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'Open When' Letters from Bakugo

Open When You're Stressed Out

Oi, what the hell are you doing, extra? Sitting there like a damn idiot, freaking out over nothing. You think that’s gonna fix anything? Tch, you’re just making it worse, dumbass. Snap the hell out of it.

You’re better than this crap, so act like it! Breathe, stand up, and stop wasting my time with your pity party. Stressing out doesn’t fix jack. You’re just sitting there letting your brain rot when you could be doing something useful.

Yeah, life’s a pain in the ass sometimes. Big deal. You’re not some weakling who lets it beat ‘em, so quit acting like a damn loser. You can handle this. You’ve handled worse, haven’t you? So get your stubborn head in the game.

And if you need to blow off steam, fine. Scream, punch something, hell, yell at me if it’ll shut you up. Just don’t sit there whining like some helpless extra. That’s not who you are.

Got it? Good. Now get your ass in gear and remind everyone why you’re a damn badass.

-Katsuki

P.S. Giving up isn’t an option. Ever. So don’t even think about it, idiot.

🌵 @amazingphil’s new merch inspired drawing 🌵 hope you like it! ✨

so good god i love this series

HIGH & DRY | PT 3

you and hamzah stop tiptoeing around your situation, but fail to be careful about it. read parts one and two here

“we’ll only be twenty minutes or so,” martin says, grabbing the grocery list that’s scrawled with numerous ingredients in hamzah’s messy handwriting - the aftermath of your brainstorming while trying to decide what to cook for dinner.

“thirty,” mandy mutters, tying her shoes by the front door. “depending on traffic.”

hamzah just lifts a hand in a lazy wave from his seat beside you on the couch. “uh-huh. have fun.”

the door shuts. there’s a second of silence, before you hear the inevitable flick of a lighter. hamzah’s already pulling a blunt from his hoodie pocket.

“dude,” you laugh, leaning your head back. “did you seriously bring that over here?”

“i bring one everywhere,” he shrugs, lighting up.

you sigh. martin and mandy’s house is too pure for this.

you glance at their cat trees, the water bowls and pet beds. the matching throw blankets draped across the couch. the floral candle that’s lit on the TV stand, soon to be overthrown by the skunky aroma of weed.

the smell hits immediately - earthy and potent, curling into the clean air like it couldn’t care less about how domestic everything looks.

he takes a drag. passes it. you inhale and exhale. it’s a routine.

silence stretches for a few seconds while the two of you get comfortably high. a buzz blankets over you both - making the room feel warmer and the space between your bodies more charged with some sort of hazy energy.

now you're both slouched on their couch, staring up at the ceiling, legs touching. the blunt's halfway done and the living room feels like you hotboxed it with intention.

hamzah exhales slow, watching the smoke swirl above you. he gets your attention with a lazy nudge of your thigh.

you turn your head. “hmm?”

his eyes are already red. his lips are pink and shiny, a stark contrast to the gray plumes of smoke pouring from them.

“we should just fuck for real.” he sighs out.

you laugh, not even phased by his bluntness. “we did, though. even when you kept saying it didn’t count.”

he makes a face. “yeah, but like, for real.” he repeats, like it’ll change anything about what he said.

you snort, choking a little on smoke. “dude, c’mon.”

he shrugs. “m’just sayin.”

you pause, holding the blunt between your fingers. “so - what, you just wanna do it without feelin’ weird? cause it’s official?”

“uh-huh.” he reaches for the blunt, snatching it from your grasp. “pretty much.”

“really?”

hamzah shrugs again, stoned and shameless. “yeah, really. what don’t you get?” he teases. “you’re my best friend. and i’m askin’ you to fuck.”

you lips tug into a small grin. “so romantic.”

“you’re fallin’ for it, so.. yeah.”

you can’t argue. not when his hand is now sliding up your thigh, and you already know where this is going.

the blunt’s nothing but a memory now - burnt out and forgotten in a dish on the coffee table.

your shirt's pushed up. his hoodie's halfway off. your shorts are on the floor. his sweats are shoved just low enough.

and he's pulling your underwear to the side while mumbling, "don’t even take ‘em off.”

his hips are already slotted between your thighs, his frame hovering over you while the two of you try to remember how to breathe.

hamzah’s cock presses against your entrance, and everything’s so warm. you’re already soaked from how long this exact moment has plagued your mind.

“wait- wait, you good?” he mumbles, voice raspy and a little too stoned.

you nod, eyes barely open. “mhm.”

“okay. cool. that’s.. yeah. cool.”

he pushes in slowly.

you both let out matching, low groans as he sinks in - inch by inch, careful but not gentle. you’re high enough to feel everything, and he’s high enough to start twitching before he’s even fully in.

“oh, shit,” he murmurs, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. he’s not sure which ones he should vocalize. “oh my god, uh, you feel - fuck, you’re so..”

“shut up.” your voice is already shaky, your cheeks are deeply flushed and burning hot.

he bottoms out and stays there for a second - just looking at you. the way you stretch around him. the way your lips part like you’re trying to find words that don’t exist.

he drags his palm up your side, watching his hand spread across your ribs, his thumb swiping the edge of your bra.

“you’re pretty.”

you laugh, turning your head into the couch cushion. “oh, my god. you’re really high.”

he just grins. “you’re still pretty.”

his hips pull back slightly before he pushes in again - slow, lazy, way too deep. you choke on a moan, legs falling wider open around him without meaning to.

“fuck,” you breathe out, completely exasperated.

he groans lowly, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. “this position’s so unfair,” he mumbles. “i can see everything.”

you slap his arm. “stop narrating. you’re so weird.”

“can’t help it,” he pants, pulling out and rocking back in. “you just look so- i don’t know. fuck.”

you wrap your arms around his neck without any hesitancy, your hands buried in his hoodie as he starts fucking you. it’s slow and heavy and so warm that it makes your vision blur.

it’s gross. it’s sticky. it’s so high.

you both keep giggling under your breath every time you moan. like it's funny how good it feels. like it's silly that you're doing this in martin and mandy’s living room, of all places.

“shit, hamzah-” you pant. “you’re so deep.”

"yeah?" he pulls back to smirk at you. “told you m’good at this.”

his hips pick up this slow, sloppy rhythm. he’s not even trying to fuck you hard, he just wants to feel you all the way. his cock hits the deepest part of you over and over until your back arches off the couch and you’re gasping into his hoodie.

"shit," he mutters. "feels really good."

the couch squeaks beneath you. the armrest digs into your back. one of the throw pillows hits the floor.

it’s slow, drugged-up sex that burns in your belly and lingers under your skin. his hips flex under you with just enough rhythm to keep you gasping. sweat beads at your temple. your body is burning hot.

"we’re actually the worst," you choke out. "we’re on mandy’s fuckin’ fancy-ass couch."

“yeah, and you’re making a mess on it,” he mumbles, voice so low you feel it in your chest. “you’re fucking dripping.”

you slap him again, weakly. “don’t say shit like that.”

he laughs into your neck, breath hot and shaky. “you love it.”

you do.

hamzah groans and buries his face in your neck, his hands gripping under your thighs and pulling them up higher until your knees are damn near to your chest.

you’re folded. split open. wrapped around him in a mess of limbs and heat.

your whole body is buzzing, mouth open, barely breathing - just taking it. letting him fuck you deep and slow and so intimately it makes your stomach twist.

his hand slips between your legs without warning. two fingers rub over your clit, and your head jerks back against the armrest with a choked whine.

you cover your mouth with your palm. he hates it.

he grabs your wrist and pins it to the cushion beside your head. “don’t,” he murmurs, thrusting again. “wanna hear you.”

you moan involuntarily - not loud, but broken. he laughs a little, totally breathless. you laugh too.

he holds your gaze while he fucks you - cock disappearing inside you with every thrust, your thighs trembling, his hoodie damp with sweat where your hands are still grabbing at him.

“stay still,” he pleads, sensing through his drug-hazed mind that you’re both close to losing all sense of composure. “just let me - fuck - let me watch you cum.”

you nod, shaking, jaw slack as he rocks into you again. your limbs feel loose, your thoughts melting into heat and haze. you’re both moaning now, messy and uncoordinated.

the sound of your bodies pounding into the couch is obscene. you think you could cum just from the weight of him on top of you, the way he keeps whispering “just like that, good girl, fuck - that’s it-”

you’re right there. so fucking close - and the door opens.

you hear it.

hamzah doesn’t.

not until the grocery bags hit the floor.

“what the- what the fuck?!” martin yells. hamzah freezes, still fully inside you.

you’re under him, arms gripping his back, legs around his waist. the whole couch is creaking and the house reeks of weed and sex.

your eyes snap to the door. mandy’s standing there, staring, mouth open, one hand still clutching her car keys.

martin’s just pointing. “you.. in my house? on my couch?!”

“my couch.” mandy corrects him, sounding much less shocked than martin.

you slap your hands over your face with a groan. “oh, my god-”

“are you-” martin’s voice cracks mid-sentence. “hamzah! you’re literally still- why are you still moving?”

“m’not,” hamzah lies pathetically, his mind too stoned and his body too needy for his own good.

you grab the throw blanket and yank it over your face and chest, your legs still tangled under him, entire body humming with leftover pleasure and absolute shame.

mandy, still frozen, mutters, “i knew it.”

martin stares at her. “you knew?”

“it was obvious. i told you, martin. phone call? the way she was out of breath and hung up out of nowhere?”

martin groans, annoyed by how right she is.

“this is so much worse than what i saw last time.” he huffs.

“can’t believe you fully caught them first and still didn’t figure it out,” mandy says, exasperated, still eyeing you two like a car crash in her living room that she can’t look away from. “i told you they’re hooking up.”

“we aren’t!” you yell from under the blanket.

“you are right now!” martin nearly screams, completely overwhelmed.

another stretch of silence.

then hamzah - who’s still flushed, still high, still inside you - sheepishly asks, “..we still get dinner though, right?”

a/n: happy 4/20 guys ayyy

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @a1exaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @nickmillersn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme

special mention for @isathefantastic who convinced me to take a break from my break .. ౨ৎ

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✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.” 

it’s all the permission he needs. 

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven. 

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over. 

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips. 

Smack. Huff. A caress. 

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly. 

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine. 

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .” 

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it. 

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. 

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away. 

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other. 

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard. 

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back. 

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you. 

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface. 

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe. 

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. 

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control. 

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth. 

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago. 

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth. 

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ” 

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel. 

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him. 

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him. 

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation: 

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me? 

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. 

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second. 

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur: 

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ” 

It’s all the permission he needs. 

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break. 

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again. 

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time. 

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch. 

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted. 

“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ” 

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him. 

“Yeah, princess?” 

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists. 

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?” 

There’s no choice for you, but to nod. 

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

 Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit. 

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you. 

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them. 

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book. 

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin. 

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest. 

“R-really?” 

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck. 

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen. 

“Huh. I seeee .” 

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers. 

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you. 

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ” 

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy. 

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow… 

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body. 

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you. 

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want. 

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session. 

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.” 

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud. 

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones. 

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast. 

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw. 

Caleb… Caleb… 

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room. 

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers. 

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?” 

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you. 

“ Caleb—! ” 

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?” 

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .” 

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat. 

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory. 

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs. 

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal. 

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control. 

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick. 

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily. 

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.” 

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn. 

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw. 

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show. 

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide. 

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes. 

“Is that…?” 

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.” 

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?” 

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more. 

“Y-yeah.” 

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…” 

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view. 

Girthy, thick. Veiny. 

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing. 

“You… don’t want this?” 

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air. 

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth. 

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants. 

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath. 

There he is, in all his glory. 

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny… 

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry. 

Would Caleb notice? 

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock? 

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…? 

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…” 

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity. 

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body. 

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels. 

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch. 

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good? 

You feel… good? 

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal. 

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock. 

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him. 

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass. 

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy. 

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night. 

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins. 

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out. 

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.” 

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot. 

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss. 

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him. 

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me. 

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator. 

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension. 

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool. 

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current. 

Fuck… Caleb… 

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours. 

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world. 

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable. 

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts. 

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress. 

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

So good.

Oh, Caleb. 

More. More. 

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back. 

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts. 

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him. 

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him. 

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!” 

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice. 

Almost a growl. 

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos. 

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts. 

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises. 

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman. 

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit. 

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand. 

He’s a goner right there and then. 

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you. 

.

.

.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath. 

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan. 

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in. 

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him. 

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly. 

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” 

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh. 

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—” 

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck. 

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly. 

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully. 

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’” 

“Hey—!” 

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy. 

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?” 

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond: 

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark. 

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

finger guns 🌻

YOU'RE SO VAIN!

"are you trying to flirting with me?"

"... did i make it too obvious?"

despite being a hopeless romantic, y/n has never truly experienced love in her life. stuffing her face in romance book, or sobbing to rom-com movies were her way of experiencing something she never had. but what happens when she comes across a fiery, blunt boy, whose flirty comments fly straight over her head?

bakugou x fem! reader

uploads every wednesday and friday!

released: march 19, 2025

status: ongoing

content: modern high school au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, first person pov in reader's perspective, third person pov in bakugou's perspective, ooc bakugou sometimes

playlist | regular pinned

i. who i am

ii. take my hand and drive me head-first

iii. so pretty, it hurts

iv. do i like her? no definitely

v. you're so vain

vi. the way you smile

vii. crazy over you

viii. find yourself

ix. sitting alone

x. you'll never change

xi. alone again

xii. one more night

xiii. won't run away this time

THE END.

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