🌸a Lesson In Jealousy!

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!! (also pls help me find the artist that made the art in the divider!!)

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and you res) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from Utahime’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

“You always do that,” he says quietly. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.” “Do you not consider me your equal?”

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but what we really need is a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

(x)

(x)

we hug now k. bakugo

wrote this while crying to we hug now by sydney rose, fluffy comfort, has nothing to do with the song, i just put it as the title since it was the inspiration

you sobbed on top of your bed, trying your best to remain silent despite the choked sounds making their way out of your throat, when you heard the door open and the crinkle of a plastic bag being sat down on the floor.

you didn't even have to look up to know that it was your boyfriend, your hand still covering your mouth to muffle the sobs and vision blurred from the tears as he made his way over to the bed, silently sitting down next to you and wrapping his arms around you. he pulled you close, one arm around your shoulders and the other gently rubbing your head, wanting to provide comfort even though he wasn't the best with words.

"i'm just so tired," you sob, burying your head into his chest. he felt your tears make their way through the fabric of his shirt, and each small pool felt like it burned.

"i know you are," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there, cuddling you into his chest. the gentle action made the already struggling dam break and now you were sobbing even harder than before, hands clutching his shirt and sobs falling from your mouth.

"it's all gonna be okay. i promise. i'll make sure of it," he quietly affirmed, tracing small patterns into your scalp.

taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @n3r0-5352 @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts

ⓒ luvseraph

imagining your older brother's bestfriend! katsuki bakugo walking in on you... masturbating.

"fucking hell..." you grumbled as the steady thump of music from your brother's party downstairs interrupted your studying.

your brother's parties were usually a messy affair, with plenty of noise and chaos. but lately, he seemed to be throwing them more frequently and with more intensity.

the sound of him and his friends playing beer pong and laughing loudly, the sounds carrying up from upstairs to your ears.

despite your best efforts to ignore the noise and concentrate on studying, the sound of music and loud chatter kept pulling your attention away. you tried blocking it out, focusing on your notes, but it was hard to ignore.

you closed your laptop in frustration, abandoning your efforts to study and grabbed your phone instead. scrolling mindlessly, you eventually came across something that caught your eye.

it was a photo of katsuki bakugo, your brother's best friend, smiling and looking as handsome as ever. his muscles were clearly visible through his tight shirt, and his spiky hair was tousled just right.

seeing him always made your heart race, but this time it was different. you felt heat wash over your body, and a feeling of excitement that you couldn't quite explain.

you couldn't take your eyes off the photo, as if katsuki's beautiful vermillion eyes and his god-like physique was hypnotizing you.

then, you realized.. you were feeling horny.

"shit. whats wrong with me?" you mumbled. but you couldn't resist the urge any longer, let alone fight it. your body was aching with need, who were you to tell it what it should do?

closing your eyes, you stifle a moan as your hand snuck underneath your pants and started to rub your folds in slow, lazy circles.

you huffed, biting your bottom lip as you watch yourself rub your clit through your panties. the other hand abandons your phone, crawling beneath your shirt, moving your bra out of the way to play with your tits, rolling your forefinger and thumb over your nipple.

your thoughts slowly drift to katsuki again, imagining his muscles framing his strong body, what it would be like if it was his hand down your pussy instead of yours.

you couldn't help but let out a loud whimper at the thought of his hands running over your body, his lips on yours. you could almost feel the heat of his touch, as if he were really there in the cramped space of your room, his presence a maddening pressure against your skin.

you let out a soft sigh, your hand moving faster as your imagination ran wild. it was wrong, really wrong. but you couldn't help it. the ache in your body was overwhelming, and you needed release.

the only thing that could make it better was if it was him, not you, imagining him there, his hand, his body, his voice. all there just to take care of your poor, needy little clit.

suddenly, someone pushed open the door without knocking, someone intending to ask you something about the party.

a gasp escapes your lips as the door slammed open, eyes snapping open to see katsuki standing in the doorway. your hands scrambled its way out of your body, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment but there was no denying it.

the sight that greeted him made him freeze in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized what he had walked in on. you, on your bed, a flush on your cheeks and your hand very recently hiding beneath your clothes where it wasn't supposed to be.

but katsuki heard you. he didn't want to assume and gets his hopes up, until now. katsuki saw you, masturbating. to a photo of him, no less. and to the thoughts of him fucking you.

he stood there in the doorway, stunned, his eyes fixated on you as you tried in vain to hide what you were doing, hiding evidence he'd already seen.

"shit, 'm sorry.." you mumbled, clearly very embarassed. "i thought the.. door was locked."

katsuki processed your words for a moment before he stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"don't worry about it," he leaned against the door, his eyes never leaving yours. "should have knocked."

there was something about the way he was looking at you, a mix of surprise and... something else that made you feel self-conscious. you shifted your legs, clenching down on nothing in an attempt to relieve the aching need inside you.

"wh-what did you need?" you looked up at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

he pushed himself off the door, his movements slow as he took a few steps forward. he stopped several feet away from the bed and looked down at you with a hint of amusement.

"wanted to ask you something about the party. but i think there's something more.. important."

his eyes wander over your face and down to your body, lingering on the way your chest rises and falls with each breath. he swallows hard, his jaw tight.

"you looked like you were having a good time," he says, his tone almost teasing.

a hot flush spread across your cheeks, face burning with embarrassment. you dropped your gaze to your knees, unable to face him

"forget about it. didn't mean for you to see..."

katsuki chuckled, the sound deep and dark. his eyes roved over your body, as if taking in the sight of you in a way that made you feel naked, vulnerable.

"m pretty sure i won't be able to forget about it anytime soon."

he took another step forward, a few more inches between you. he sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he was so close now, you could almost feel the heat radiating off his body.

he reaches out, his hand brushing against your knee, feeling your body tense under his touch. his proximity made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly alive.

"don't be embarrassed. it's normal to have needs."

your breath catches in your throat as his hand touched your knee. the simple touch made your heart race, the shame and embarrassment of being caught in the act evident on your face.

"it's not normal," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "especially for you to see me taking care of my... myself like this..."

katsuki lets out a low chuckle, his hand sliding from your knee up to your thigh.

"well, i'm... not bothered i saw it," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual as he squeezes your thigh gently, his fingers warm against your skin. "it was... quite a show."

you look up at him, and your mind struggles to remember what he had come in for in the first place. he was glad he saw it? how long was he even watching?

"wh-what did you want to ask me about, again?" you managed to say, your eyes locked onto his. you were trying to stay focused, but it was hard with him standing so close, his presence making your mind fuzzy.

katsuki doesn't reply right away,his hand still on your thigh. his expression is unreadable, watching his hand trickle along your thighs in slow, lazy strides before looking back at you.

finally, he seems to remember what he came in to ask. "ah, right. i was wondering if you were coming downstairs," he says, his eyes flicking down to you, his gaze lingering on her form for a moment before returning back up to her face.

"but... i'm not sure i want you to leave anymore."

his eyes flick down to your phone, seeing the picture you had been looking at when he walked in. it's the picture of him, the one that had inspired your... activities.

he looks back up at you, his eyes dark as he lets out a low chuckle, the sound making you shiver. "were you looking at this before i walked in, hm?"

you cursed under your breath, fumbling for your phone to turn it off, your embarrassment painfully obvious, trying to compose yourself.

"shit. shit, that was... i'm sorry. i don't know how it... i didn't mean for you to see that."

katsuki chuckled, a deep, rough sound, his hand still resting on your thigh, squeezing it. "relax. 'm not mad."

he took the phone from your trembling fingers, the brief contact of his fingers on your skin sending goosebumps on your arms, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft thud. "in fact," he continued, his voice lowering. "i'm intrigued."

he leaned in closer, his body nearly flush with yours, his hand sliding further up your thigh until it was barely hovering above the hem of your shorts. a shudder ran through your body at his touch, sending tingles down your spine.

"you..." he asked, his hand stopping at your inner thigh. "were getting turned on by me, perv?"

your breath stuttered as he began to move his hand in lazy, repetitive circles against your crotch, the sensation making your body tingle with need. was this really happening?

for a moment, you wanted to tell him to stop. but why? you wanted this. you needed this. you needed to finish what he interrupted and he was willingly offering to help you. so, fuck it. you liked it anyway.

clinging to him, your face flushed with an intense heat, your body reacting to his touch. "fuck... y-yeah."

katsuki's eyes narrow, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. his presses a thumb against the thin fabric of your shorts, feeling your damp panties against him, your mewls sending vibrations down his hand.

"were you, really?" he leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "thinkin' of me, all alone up here in your bed, touchin' yourself to me?"

you nodded slowly, a soft whimper escaping your lips. your fingers clenched at his shirt, body trembling against him as you feel your warm, wet cunny flutter from his touch.

katsuki shifted his hand, his fingers wandering higher on the waistband of your panties, getting his hand down your shorts.

"and what, exactly, were you thinking i'd be doing to you?"

a soft moan escaped your lips when he starts tracing slow patterns on the sensitive skin of your bare folds. your head lolling back in response, your body arches into him, wanting more of him.

"your hands... how good they'd make me feel, all over me..."

"my hands, on you? touchin' you, explorin' your body, makin' this pretty pussy feel good?"

you nodded eagerly, face flushed as your panted, body shivering with pleasure of his hands on you, rubbing your poor, needy clit.

"yes... wait.." you bit your lip, your mind attempting to shift through your hazy thoughts, eyes looking up at him.

"sh-shit, you're supposed to be downstairs..." you reminded him. "won't my brother notice you're gone..?"

he scoffs, brushing your hair behind your ear, his hand gentle on your face but firm in between your legs. "don't give a fuck," he says, his voice gruff.

"right now, the only thing i care about is you."

he leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his presence almost overwhelming. he seemed to be completely focused solely on you, his hands roaming over your body, exploring the curves and soft skin beneath his touch.

"besides," he says, his hand starts to move harder on your wet cunny. "your brother can handle one shitty party without me. i have something i need to take care of right here."

his calloused fingers assault on your clit with fast rubs, teasing your wet hole. he groans, feeling his dick get hard watching you squirm.

"oh, you like that, hm?" he whispered, his voice a low, rough purr. "you like the way i play with this fuckin' cunt, huh?"

another whimper of pleasure escapes you when you feel his finger dip into your folds, your head tilting back as you cling onto him. "yes, fuck, yes... feels better than i imagined..."

he hums, his hands continuing to wander over your body. he leans in, his lips brush against your ear. "y'know, i've been imaginin' this too..."

breath hitching at his words, your eyes lock onto his, your chest heaving with each pant as katsuki rubs your throbbing clit silly.

"yeah?" you murmur, the thought of him actually thinking about this too was insane. too good to be real.

the thought of him, maybe jerking his dick off to your pretty face, imagining all the ways he'd make you feel... it was enough to make your velvet walls clench down on nothing, the sensation painful by the second.

"yeah," he nods slowly, putting a finger in between your folds, spreading them to tease the pulsating hole gushing with your slick. "been thinking about this for a while now.... you have no fuckin' idea how hard it's been to keep my hands off you."

"it's been torture, y'know. seein' you around, knowin' i can't have you the way i want you."

katsuki pressed his lips to the tender skin of your neck, his breath coming out in puffs. his lips leave a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbone, possessive and with tender care.

"but not anymore. tonight, i'm gonna do exactly what i've been dreamin' about."

"katsuki..." you whimpers his name, your voice a soft, needy sound. you clutch at his shoulders, your entire body trembling with need.

his words were like an invitation, the whispered plea to take care of you like he's wanted to do for so long making you gasp. "please... please, katsuki... make me feel good."

he grins with a predatory gleam in his eye. "with fuckin' pleasure."

he stands up to pull away from you, his body towering over yours. he stands there for a moment, just looking down at you, admiring the sight of you looking all vulnerable. he reaches behind your ass, patting it softly.

"lift your legs up f'me, sweet girl."

your heart pounds in your chest, but eagerly lifts your legs up, spreading them a little. you're completely at his mercy now. you've never felt more vulnerable yet so, so fucking horny.

katsuki kneels down, his hands sliding up your thighs again, tracing patterns on your skin. "so soft..."

he tugged gently on your shorts along with your panties, his fingers tracing along the bare skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps along his path. "these are in the fuckin' way.."

he tossed your clothes aside with a flick of his wrist, letting them fall somewhere lost in the room.

you were left there, legs bare and exposed, the cold air caressing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. you felt shy, cheeks flushing with embarassment and desire.

but even in the cold air, katsuki thought you looked absolutely gorgeous, every inch of your body on display for him and his gaze alone.

katsuki was struck speechless, his jaw slack as he drinks in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire.

"you're so damn beautiful.. so eager, too" he murmured, his thumb trailing down to your wet slit. "but we gotta be quiet, okay? party's still going on down stairs."

a huff escaped your lips as you tried to pout, but it only served to highlight your lips in a subtle way. you knew katsuki had a point, but you still couldn't help but feel a little annoyed.

"meanie," you muttered under your breath. "how am i supposed to be quiet when you're doing thi—"

"shhh," he shushes you, his finger brushing against your lips as his thumb slowly goes in and out of your hole. "you know we have to keep it down, or your brother will hear. don't want him comin' up here, do you?"

"fine.." you pouted at him, clearly annoyed as you looked up at him.

your tongue darted out, licking and then lightly biting his finger on your lips, drawing it into your mouth with hungry motions. your eyes never left his, your gaze full of defiance and unabashed want.

a smirk tugged at the corners of katsuki's lips as he watched your lips wrap around his finger, the sight and feeling enough to send a bolt of heat through his body. he could see the hunger in your gaze, and it only intensified the need building up within him.

he pulls his finger out of your mouth with a pop, leaving you with a small gasp. "is that supposed to be an apology for callin' me a meanie?"

raising an eyebrow, a soft smile plays at the corners of your lips. "maybe. did you like it?"

he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "i'd be lyin' if i said i didn't. but you know what i'd like more?"

katsuki moved his hand, his fingers trailing down your warm cunnt, slowly putting a digit inside of you, rubbing your throbbimg clit with his thumb.

"this pretty little thing right here," he murmured, his fingers slowly curling inside of your walls, exploring your sweet spots. "all wrapped around my dick."

a soft gasp escaped you as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, the sensations coursing through your body, making you writhe beneath him. it just felt so good, your body was responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control.

"but i gotta get you ready, okay?" he loved how responsive you were, how your body reacted to him. he continued to tease you, his fingers still softly running through your wet walls, the gummy skin beneath it growing warmer with every pass. it only fueled his own need. "need you all nice and wet f'me first.."

you bit your bottom lip, trying to muffle the soft moans that kept slipping out as your hips squirmed against him, seeking friction and more of the wonderful sensations he was making you feel.

"it... it feels so good," you mumbled, biting your bottom lip to stifle a moan. "don't stop, katsuki.."

he loved how you sounded, breathless and needy under his touch. his fingers continued its pace inside you, moving slowly, as if trying to edge you closer and closer to the release you so desperately longed for.

he could tell how much you were enjoying this, could tell how desperately you wanted more. and he was more than happy to give it to you.

"i won't. i could do this all night."

your gaze flicks down to the spot where he was most vulnerable: his aching boner. it looked so big. so hard. so painful. you just had to help him, right? you looked back up at him, your bottom lip caught in between your pearly whites.

"can i.. can i touch you? can i make you feel good, too?"

katsuki took a sharp breath at your request, his body tensing slightly in anticipation. he was torn between wanting to give in to your touch, to know what it feels like and wanting to be in control, to see you crumbling apart all for him.

eventually, though, his desire for you won out. "yeah. you can touch me."

you hesitated for a moment, unsure what to expect. he looked big, sure. but what if you squeezed it too hard or something? what if he hated it?

katsuki continued to watch you, his own desire growing as he thought about what you might do next. but it was obvious you were nervous. "go ahead, pretty. don't be shy."

you nodded, taking a deep breath as your hand trembled slightly, reaching out towards him. you gently placed your hand down his boxers, feeling his hard cock trapped in his clothes, aching with warmth only you could fix.

katsuki groaned softly at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt the warmth and softness of your hands envelop his cock.

he feels his breathing growing shallower as you explored him. he wasn't used to being touched like this, but the way your hands felt on him was making him want more. of this. of you.

he reached out to take your other hand, his large fingers intertwining with yours as if to reassure you. "just relax. you're doin' great. keep goin'."

your eyes met his gaze, a hot flush spreading across your cheeks as you continued to move your hands down his pants. while he has his hands down yours.

"this is so..." you swallowed, your voice catching whimpers in your throat. "...so lewd."

"yeah," his murmured, watching you react to him. "fuckin' lewd."

"but you like it, don't you?"

you couldn't even deny it. he was right. making each other feel good... and the thought that he'd rather be with you instead of a stupid party downstairs.. you were enjoying this.

"mhm.. y-yeah."

katsuki's smile widened as he heard your admission. it pleased him, very much, to know that you were enjoying this as much as he was.

"good," he pants, his breath hitching when you start to stroke his cock faster. "because i plan on doing.. a lot more than this."

his hand holding yours lets you go, moving to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. he was enjoying this far more than he’d expected, every second pulling him deeper into the moment.

the sight of you like this— it was intoxicating. and what made it even better? knowing he was the only one who got to see you like this, raw and vulnerable, just for him.

"fuck.. fuck, you're so beautiful.." his words were filled with such awe and sincerity, he almost sounded like he was yearning. yearning for the taste of you. what you'd feel like around him, clenching down on his cock instead of his fingers.

your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. instead, you let out a soft, breathless laugh, trying to play it off.

“don’t... say things you don’t mean,”

"hey," he panted, his voice low and steady, laced with a softness you couldn't ignore. "look at me."

you couldn't ignore the gentle command in his voice, and slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. "what..?"

his thumb brushed across your cheekbone, the touch gentle but firm as his fingers continued to play with your warm insides.

"i meant what i said. you're... the most beautiful thing i've ever seen."

you let out a soft whimper, his words and touches starting to stir something inside you. the only thing that was keeping you grounded was keeping your hands occupied, stroking him, thumbing at his tip leaking with white pre.

"stop that," you protested, your voice a soft, breathless plea.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat, drinking in every reaction and twitch of your body you couldn’t conceal, beating his fingers deeper into you. "why should i stop, hm?"

you gasped aloud at the feel of his digits pressing into your cervix, feeling the heat and strength of him. "b-because.."

"because what?" katsuki pants, his breathing shallow from the way you stroke his cock. how could he have it all? how could he sweet talk to you like this and finger you like pro? "sh-shit, you feel so good, god.."

you let out a strangled sob, your body arching instinctively into his as you felt the evidence of his desire on your folds, his pre all over your clit. the friction between them was exquisite, sending shudders through your entire being.

"b-because..." you tried again, struggling to articulate your thoughts. "because... it's embarrassing.."

his lips curled into a smirk at the sound of your breathless whispers and gasps. it was like music to his ears. he loved how you couldn't seem to keep yourself under control.

his mouth hovers a mere millimeter from the skin of your neck, before taking a nibble out of the supple skin. "s-so what? i like it when you’re.. embarrassed."

"shut uppp," you whine, tears of pleasure spilling from your eyes as his fingers fuck you harder. "katsukiii.. im.. close.."

the sound of his name slipping from your lips, breathless and almost desperate, caused his heart to leap in his chest and desire to flare hotly within him.

katsuki couldn't take his eyes off of you, your head thrown back, eyes glossy of how good he makes you feel, your words a plea. he wanted to tease you, to make things last, but he was just as close as you were.

“me too,” he growled, groaning as he bucks his hips into your fist. "fuck, i want you.. so bad, it fuckin' hurts.."

"katsukiii," you whimper, voice shaky and broken by sobs. his name is the only word you can form, the only plea you can make. "i'm... i'm..."

he can see it in your eyes, the way your body quivers beneath his touch, begging for release. your voice, shaky and broken, is the sweetest sound he's ever heard, and he knows he's close too.

katsuki's hand continues to move, slowly sliding across your folds before settling on the smooth skin of your clit, rubbing it feverishly.

he knew exactly what you needed, what you both needed.

"i know," he whispers, his voice a breathless growl. "i know. just cum for me, sweet girl, c'mon."

your body tenses at his words, your breath hitching in your throat at the feel of his fingers reaching your sweetest spot.

you let out a soft, guttural moan, your body arching against his as you lose yourself in the waves of pleasure that crash through you, painting his fingers white.

he feels your body tense, face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him, shuddering and writhing against him as you ride out your high, and it's almost too much for him to take.

"f-fuck," katsuki groans, bucking his hips into your hand one last time before spurting ropes of cum on your pussy, thick and sticky all over you.

his hand pulls away from the tight hold of your cunt, gently putting your hand away from his now soft cock. he held you close, the both of you trembling in the aftermath.

feeling you shiver in his arms, your breath slowly beginning to even out, your face buried in his neck, is the most satisfying feeling he's ever experienced.

he gently runs his hand along your back, soothing you and trying to bring you back down to earth. he slowly pulls back, his body still close to yours with his arms still wrapped around you.

he can't help but smile at the sight of you, flushed and panting, your hair mussed up and your eyes half-lidded. he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "you okay, pretty?"

you slowly opened your eyes, nodding shakily, your breaths starting to even out as you slowly come back to earth. you can still feel the aftershocks of the orgasm rippling through your body, making your limbs feel deliciously heavy and boneless.

"y-yeah. i'm okay. just... i just need a second. that was..." you trail off, not quite sure how to put into words the intensity of what just happened.

he chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. he loves the way you look right now, all flushed and breathless, and he can't help but feel a sense of pride that he's the cause of it.

"yeah, that was.." he trails off, his words escaping him as well. he glances at the top of your head before giving it a soft, lingering kiss. "you were amazing, by the way."

your face flushes hot again as you lift your head from the crook of his neck, your eyes meeting his, a playful grin spreading across your face. "you were pretty amazing too. even if you made a mess all over me."

you glance back down at the gooey mess katsuki made at your folds, feeling his creamy slick ooze down there to your thighs.

katsuki barks out a laugh, the sound rough and amused as his eyes roam over your face. "and who's fault is that, huh?"

his gaze drops down to examine the mess he made, before reaching for his hand that was down your cunny, licking his fingers clean, tasting your sweet slick on his tongue. "don't act like you didn't make a fuckin' mess too..."

you watch him lick his fingers with an almost unbearably seductive ease, feeling embarassed just watching him. "shut up. don't pretend that you didn't like it."

"oh, i definitely liked it," he purrs, enjoying your bashful response. "and i'll have you know that i liked a lot of things we just did."

he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle. "shit... you really are a sight when you're like this, y'know that?"

you glance up at him and scoff, your embarrassment evident as you avoid his gaze. but before you can say another word, the music from the party begins to fade. your brother's party was coming to an end.

the realization hits you— your older brother would soon be looking for katsuki.

he realized that the night was winding down as well. he knew that he'd have to face your brother soon, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought.

katsuki reaches out, gently tilting your chin up so that you're looking at him. "i guess that means i'm gonna have to let you go now, huh?"

you look up at him, biting your bottom lip, and give a small, subtle nod, too bashful to voice how disappointed you were at the thought of him leaving.

he notices the tiny bite on your lip, and he can't help but feel a flicker of something warm in his chest at the sight. his hand moves to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, freeing it from between your teeth. "trust me, i don't want to leave too."

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you try to play it cool, acting like it didn’t matter whether he stayed or not. still, your nerves get the better of you as you gently bite down on his thumb. "then don’t go. text my brother that you already left or something..."

he laughs at your attempt to appear nonchalant, your actions betraying what you reallt wanted. he can feel how much you wanted him to stay as you gently bite down on his thumb, and it only fuels his own desire to stay. "you're askin' me to lie to your brother, huh?"

you roll your eyes, your teeth sinking into his thumb with a little harder. "oh, please. it wouldn’t be the first time you lied to him."

he winces slightly as you bite down on his thumb, his smirk giving way to a wry chuckle. "fair enough.'

his thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand resting against the side of your neck instead. "you're a bad influence, y'know that?"

"and all this time i thought you were just my best friend's sweet, cute little sister."

"all i heard was sweet and cute, thanks."

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still unable to hide a smile. "tch, smartass."

you lock eyes with him, the connection electric, as the both of you lean in slowly, the world around you seeming to fade. just as your lips are about to meet his, the sound of footsteps reaches your ears—your brother's voice calling out to katsuki, drawing you both back to reality in an instant.

panic flashes across your face, and in a rush, you both scramble to get dressed, fumbling with your clothes as you try to hide any trace of what just happened.

katsuki hastily throws his shoes on, and your eyes dart nervously toward the window. without a word, you push it open, offering him a quick escape.

he glances back at you, his expression unreadable, and just before he climbs out, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

its affectionate, its sudden, but it sends a spark through your chest, leaving your heart racing and a warmth spreading across your face amidst the cold air from the window.

after that, katsuki leans in once more, his lips grazing yours before he whispers. “i’ll text you, okay? don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily."

but before you could respond, his lips found yours again, this time more insistently, a rush of warmth flooding through you. he pulled away just enough to glance at you, his gaze full of mischief.

"i'm serious, pretty," he murmured, placing another quick kiss on your lips, his hands lingering on your waist.

you laugh softly, the sound light despite the tension between them, pushing him gently towards the window.

“you’re ridiculous,” you laugh as he attacks you with kisses, unable to hide the smile on your lips. “gooo, before my brother comes in here looking for you."

katsuki smirks, catching your lips in another kiss, this one more lingering, more desperate. "promise me you'll text back."

you chuckle, shaking your head but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "yes, yes, i promise. now go, before i change my mind."

reluctantly, he pulls away, planting one last lingering kiss on your forehead, looking at you longingly and brushing your hair behind your ear. "i’ll text you, i promise."

and with that, he slipped out of the window and disappeared into the night. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. the sound of your brother’s knock on the door snaps you back to reality.

you brother opens the door, peeking out of your room for a bit. "hey, did you see bakugo anywhere?"

you force a calm smile, hoping your heart isn't pounding too loudly.

"no, i haven’t seen him."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ ohmygosh!! finally!! im done!! this was so stressful to write but so fun, i hope you enjoyed it!! lemme know if youre interested for a part two^^ anyway, here are the tags: @thatone16216 @spltbtch @katsuisbaby @natsukicookies @dragonscribble @katsucookies @r11k4

How it should have ended

inspired by

big jumper boye (◠ω◠✿)

₊✩‧₊◜ thinking about reader and bakugo’s intense “I’m home!” sex after he gets back from a month long mission. (follow up to this!!)

『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 ꒰ tags & content ꒱ 18+ MDNI! masturbation, mentions of phone sex, toy usage (vibrator), praise, light dom/sub dynamic, pet names (baby, peach, sweets, good girl, princess - one mention of slut and whore but affectionately!), fingering, minor roleplay (bakugo in his hero gear & reader wears his mask), oral (blowjob), facial, cum eating, lots of dirty talk, nipple play, marking - biting/scratching, a sprinkle of choking, hair pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, aaand fluff! aged up characters to 22. ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — i didn’t expect this to be as long as it is, buuuut i had a lot of ideas of what they did when he came home...so there's a lot. what can i say? y'all missed each other! the smut immediately starts under the cut and does not stop until the end! 😵‍💫 ｡‧˚ʚ cross-posted to ao3 | word count; ~3.7k ɞ˚‧｡ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

It's been a long month without Katuski being home. You've done everything you can think of to keep yourself busy while he's been away - played games, read books, hung out with friends and worked overtime to make the days fly by. You called each other day and night, talking for as long as his assignments for the day allowed. Thankfully, they gave him his own room as an accommodation and didn't have to worry about sharing with anyone else.

Boy, did that come in handy.

You two are not shy and foreign to phone sex of all kinds, it was something you actually talked him into doing when you're apart longer than a week for work. FaceTime, voice notes, sexting; the full gambit. You had a private collection on your phone with all his voice notes that he'd sent to you over the years. You used it as "material" for when you're alone.

One folder was all for praise - "that’s my good girl," "go slow sweets, I wanna watch ya take every inch of me," "you’re so cute when you’re begging on your knees, baby," "love watching your soft lips wrap around my cock," "your moans are so fuckin’ pretty, peach," “god, y’have no fuckin’ idea how goddamn wild you drive me,” and more snippets of him coaxing you along to get you off.

The second folder? That was your sacred treasure trove. There were only three files, but they were some of the hottest things Katuski's ever graced you with. They were 10 minute audio clips of him jerking off to the thought of you, vocalizing every detail. Thank god for advanced technology because it allowed you to hear every mumbled ‘fuck’ under his breath, hushed grunts and audible shudders.

You didn’t have any other plans for the day - listening to your boyfriend’s sexy voice while you test out a new vibrator sounded like the perfect solution!

Stripping out of your clothes, you grab a t-shirt from his dresser and throw it over your naked body. It loosely drapes over the top of your thighs, barely hiding the fact you’re not wearing any panties. You grab the vibrator from your nightstand and lay in bed, phone nestled into the pillow next to your head. You decide to choose one of the three files at random. Before you even hit play, your face is flushed and heart is threatening to burst through your ribcage. It doesn’t take long for you to succumb to the gratification, getting lost in his husky moans and the hum of the vibrator.

You’re too busy to notice that the apartment’s front door has opened, along with the commotion of Katsuki dropping his bags in the doorway. He doesn’t say anything as he’s taking off his boots, assuming you could be taking a nap or had headphones on if you didn’t come skipping down the hallway. He didn't tell you he was coming home two days early and wanted to surprise you!

What a surprise it was for him to hear subtle mewls coming from your joint bedroom, immediately catching his attention. He was still in his hero gear, minus his gloves and gauntlets, with his mask settled into his hairline like a headband. As quiet as possible, he tip toes down the hall and peeks around the doorframe. He could hear faint audio playing and a buzzing noise, but couldn’t make out what it was until he got to the doorway.

When he peeked through the crack in the door, his dick throbbed violently as it tented his cargo pants. The sight of you sprawled out on the bed, viciously fucking your new vibrator in nothing but his t-shirt was hot as hell. And you were listening to...his voice notes? He was entranced by your delicious moans and how your legs twitched when the vibrator hit your swollen clit. Part of him jokingly thought you didn’t even need him right now, since you technically did have a version of him, but his selfishness took over instead.

Willpower be damned, he needed you. Now. It took everything in him not to pounce on you right then and there.

Katsuki retreats to the living room and sits on the couch, desperately fighting the urge to start playing with himself to the sound of you doing the same. Instead, he pulls out his phone and clicks on your name to call you. He could hear your phone’s audio shift from his own voice to your ringtone, a startled yelp escaping you.

“H-hey babe,” You answer, panting quietly. “What’s up?”

He almost bursts out into laughter, but keeps it together enough for his little charade.

“Everythin' alright? Ya sound outta breath,” Katsuki teases, but decides to get to the point. “Eh, fuck it. Come into the living room.”

He hangs up and hears your feet padding against the wooden floor instantaneously. Within seconds, you slide into view, overjoyed that he’s home.

“Kats!” You squeal, scrambling over to the couch and jumping into his lap. You’re peppering his lips, neck, cheeks and forehead with rapid fire kisses, giggling as he tries to still your movements to pull you into a warm hug. He nuzzles his face into your neck lovingly, returning your kisses tenfold.

Your excitement briefly makes you forget that you were just in the middle of pleasuring yourself before rushing to greet him. The realization catches up to you when you fully sit on his lap, his erection teasing your exposed slit. A heat pools in your gut at the thought of him catching you in the act - he heard you.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Katsuki says, hands gliding up your bare thighs and grabbing a handful of your ass, grinding your center against his own. The secondary contact causes a gasp to fall from your lips. You don’t respond verbally but lift yourself away from his lap, creating enough space between you two.

“What're ya-,” he’s cut off by you taking his right hand off of your ass and tucking his fingers against your soaked entrance. You take two digits and lower yourself onto them, coating his fingers in all your built up slick.

“I missed you,” you whine as he flexes inside you instinctually, petting your walls with his coarse finger pads. You start to move on your own, gripping his shoulders and riding his fingers to finish the job you started in the bedroom.

Katsuki is speechless, not even a witty remark coming to mind to tease you. His face burns hot when the sounds of your juices sloshing around his fingers fill the room, a heat creeping up the back of his neck. Since you previously wound yourself up, it doesn’t take long until you’re ready to explode. Your eyes are threatening to roll back into your head as you swirl your hips on his fingers. His entire being is pulsing with need as he begins to drills his fingers into you, knuckle deep, and drinks in all your breathy moans. The string in your belly is pulled taut - tighter than its been in the last month, snapping with an intensity that leaves your thighs quivering within seconds.

You come all over his fingers, down his hand and stain the crotch of his cargo pants.

“Hah, good thing they’re getting washed,” you joke breathlessly as you go to kiss Katsuki but stops you - he shocks you with something he’s never done before.

He retracts his fingers from your drenched cunt and swiftly smears it all over your lips before capturing them with his own, sharing your tangy release in ecstasy. He licks your bottom lip before sitting back, breaking the kiss and settling the two fingers back to your mouth. Your lips part ever so slightly at the pressure.

“Don’t ya think you taste divine?” He smirks as he watches you open your mouth invitingly, lazily sucking his fingers covered with your spend. You don't break eye contact with him the entire time, heavily panting like a dog in heat as your tongue leisurely trails the length of each finger. A thin string of saliva sticks to the corner of your mouth as you pull away from his fingers with a soft pop of your lips.

You reach for his mask in his hairline, pushing it back to fall into your grasp. Untying the small knot, you bring it to your own face and secure it around your eyes - just like he wears on patrol. Katsuki's giving you a curious look as you slide off his lap and kneel to the floor.

Oh fuck-

Putting your hands to his hips, you drag your fingers to the hem of his pants - he's scrambling to undo his belt while you yank everything to his ankles. His cock springs forward, bouncing off his clothed abs as it’s freed from the confines of his boxers. You can tell he’s aching for you to touch him, tip leaking pre-spend and blazing hot to the touch. With no hesitation, you edge his entire length into your mouth, tongue sliding delicately along the underside of his shaft and consuming every drop of him.

“F-fuck peach, should'a let you wear my mask ages ago,” Katsuki stutters, thighs trembling at the sight your lips enclosed around him. “’m not gonna…last long watchin’ ya like this.”

You start to slither your tongue around his length, subtly hollowing your cheeks and barely moving an inch. His tip hits the back of your throat as he grabs your hair, shoving you all the way to the base and meeting his soft blonde wisps with your nose. He's unable to control himself - your mouth just feels too good around his cock right now. Katsuki’s only known his own fist for the last month, you’re making him feel like a blushing virgin all over again with how fast he’s accelerating toward his orgasm. You’ve hardly touched - well, blown - him and he's ready to combust.

His grunts have morphed into higher pitched moans as he’s bucking his hips off the couch into your mouth in tandem with your own movements, ferociously chasing the building heat in his gut.

“S-shit, fuck fuck fuck!” he yells while ripping your lips off of him by your hair, endless hot ropes of cum painting your pretty face. His mask, your cheeks, lips, and chin are dripping with white, each droplet slowly making it's way to your jawline. The sight is enough to almost make him come a second time, needing to throw his head back on the couch to avoid eye contact momentarily and pull himself together.

You hum with satisfaction and rise from your knees, straddling him on the couch once more. In the heat of the moment, you grab him by the jaw and plant a messy kiss on his lips, smearing his paintjob in the process. In the lusty haze, he doesn't give a shit that you mimicked his actions. Honestly? He kinda liked his own flavor - it complimented your own, dancing together on his tongue.

“Don’t you think you taste divine?” you purr, repeating his sentiment and licking some of the smeared cum off his cheek. You untie the mask and let it drop from your face, realizing that you may have just ruined his professional hero gear. “This…is washable, right?”

Katsuki laughs. “Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it. 's gotta be with how dirty hero work gets.”

The two of you get up from the couch and walk to the bathroom to clean up. Once he’s done soaking a wash cloth with warm water, you’re taking his place and bending over the counter to rinse the remnants of his facial from your skin.

Lucky for him, you’re still not wearing any panties. And bent over like that? Your ass and pussy are on full display, still glistening from your previous orgasm.

Katsuki crouches to the ground, kneeling behind you and bites your bare ass with a huff. The sensation makes you jump, water splashing all over the counter and collar of your shirt.

“Katsuki!” You yelp, shutting off the water and blindly reaching for a towel nearby. “You’re insatiable.”

“Like you’re complaining.”

His tongue then traces from the inside of your thigh and stops just shy of your center, a shudder of anticipation wracking your body.

“You’re playing with fire, Kat,” you warn, spinning around and lifting your leg, placing a foot on his shoulder to teasingly show off your messy core. His eyes dart up to meet yours, a salacious grin settling on across his lips.

“Then fuckin’ light me up, princess.”

Something in you snaps - an unexplainable strong hunger captivating your mind. You wanted him to absolutely obliterate you in any and every way possible.

Everything happens in a flash - remaining clothes are strewn across the floor, bodies pressed against the plush of the sheets when you fall against the bed, tangled and relishing in the bare skin contact. The sensation kindles the fire in your veins, begging for more of him - all of him.

"K-Katsuki," you whimper onto his lips, breathless between frenzied kisses. "I want - no, need - you to fuck me like you hate my guts."

Your lascivious request has Katsuki's head swimming in a lewd sea of thoughts, gritting his teeth to hold back the ravenous desire. He can’t help but fist himself in response before leering over you.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play this game, baby?” He growls into the shell of your ear, squishing you further into the mattress. "Want me to use you like a fuckin' toy, eh? Poundin' away at your tight-ass cunt 'til ya can't take it?"

You're too enraptured by the promise swirling in your head to form any logical thoughts as his hands travel to your breast between your bodies, palms blistering hot to the touch as he tweaks your nipple. "When ya can't walk tomorrow, jus' remember y'asked me for this."

The incoherent whine that escapes you is involuntary, a raw reaction to his words. You hear a pleased hum rise from Katsuki's throat as he towers over you once more. He places a few tender kisses to your neck before he fiendishly groans, "I'm gonna fuckin' wreck you."

Not a second passes before his canines are puncturing your delicate skin, threatening to draw blood with how deep he's sinking into the bite on your jugular. Katsuki releases only to keep biting anywhere he could latch on to as he roamed your body - your neck, breasts, collarbone, shoulder, nipples, hips, thighs - eager to mark every inch of you, claim you as his. It makes you squirm and your pussy ache with need, lightning bolts of pleasure coursing through you with each snap of his teeth. Usually when he bit you, he’d soothe the area with a few kisses - but now? He was a rabid fucking animal, carnality overwhelming his ability to think straight.

You're able to get a quick look at his ruddy cock when Katsuki leans back, repositioning himself while gripping your hips. You’re salivating at the sight - thick, swollen and pulsing, spend dripping down his length and coating the skin with a sheen of arousal. He’s heavily tracing circles into your hip bones, his firm clutch on your waist keeping you in place. He’s tugging your center toward his own, teasingly slipping the head of his cock between your creamy folds. You’re about to plunge down onto him when he pulls back, a wicked grimace crossing his lips. A dissatisfied squeak spills from your lips, pouting up at him with metaphorical hearts in your eyes.

“Y’want this?” Katsuki snarls, bouncing his dick against your mound, the contact causing you to inhale sharply. “Beg like the needy slut you are.”

Words are failing you as you attempt to fulfill his demand, the only sounds falling from your puffed lips a succession of jumbled moans.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?” He snorts at his own pun under his breath as he trails his palm up your body, resting under your jaw and fixating on the seductive gleam in you pupils.

“I know how to find those pretty words ‘a yours.”

Katsuki applies firm pressure to your throat under his finger tips, tilting your head upward to face him. Your hips buck up in response, begging for him to spread you open.

He clicks his tongue at your shameless plea. "C'mon baby, tell me what ya want."

His fingers flex over your throat, playfully interchanging how much pressure he's using over the pulse in your jugular. His gaze travels down your newly bitten and bruised body, pleased with how they adorn your features.

With every ounce of concentration, you blurt out everything lingering in your heat-riddled mind. "Break the fucking bed, rip my soul from my body, leave me choking on every word, ravage me until there's nothing left...please, Katsuki!"

You barely finished screaming his name before Katsuki releases the hold on your throat, roughly returning his grips to your hips and ramming his cock straight into your sweltering sex, the burning sensation rolling your eyes back into your head.

"Good fuckin' girl, baby."

He's hypnotized by the way your tits bounce as he fucks in and out of you at a feral pace, sweat glistening over both your bodies. The room's temperature heightens, the humidity only adding to the wild desire you're sharing.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, leaving you confused and yearning. You don't have time to ask questions as he's rolling - shoving - you onto your stomach, arching your hips into place before resuming his unmerciful thrusts, growling and grunting from behind you. The new position has you crying out, intoxicated by the way his cock is hitting every hotspot along your walls and g-spot repetitively. You're unable to contain the sounds spilling from your parted lips as they harmonize with Katsuki's moans. He bends down to snatch your hair by the roots, forcing your head off the pillow as his other hand reaches around your waist, finger pressing harshly against your puffy clit. The wail that bubbles from your throat is sinful, overwhelmed as the coil in your core is wound tighter, tighter, and tighter.

"I fuckin' love when you moan like a whore, baby," Katsuki barks out between baited breath. "Ya keep screamin' like that, 'm gonna end up stuffin' your pretty pussy full 'a cum."

You flutter around his dick in response, stroking his length with every snap of his hips. "Hah, seems like that's what your beggin' for, isn't it?"

He screws his eyes shut, jaw clenched as he's inching closer to the edge. Your clenched walls coax his release to come rocketing out of nowhere, a guttural moan spilling out of him as he pumps you full of spend. The warmth is inviting - comforting, leaving you floating on cloud nine. Katsuki lets your locks drop from his grasp and removes his hand from your clit, folding over your back with exhaustion.

Imagine his shock when you push back against him, causing him to slide out of you with a schlep and fall back against the bed. You reverse your position to face him, taking hold of his shoulders to pull him into a sitting position and shove his back against the wall.

"Wha-"

You straddle his lap, springing his still-hard cock back inside of you and begin riding him mercilessly.

"One more," you whisper, voice low and demanding. "I know you can do it, my good fucking boy can give me one more."

Your nails are digging into his chest, red scratches left in their wake as you grind your soaked center against his shaft. Katsuki's stuttering, unable to find words as the overstimulation mixed with praise short circuits his brain.

"Ba-mmph-baby, wa-ahh-wait, fuck!"

Numerous beads of sweat roll from his hairline and drip down his cheeks, slack jawed from delirium. A second wave of release is rapidly rising in his abdomen, high pitched whimpers falling from his open mouth.

"Ah-almost!" you shout, fingers tracing his hardened nipples and pinching them roughly. He jolts, a final whine escaping him as the aforementioned wave crashes down, a second round of seed spurting out inside of you. Your own slick rushes to meet his spend, mixing together as it leaks from between your legs and into his lap.

"Holy fuck," Katsuki wheezes, barely able to speak. "Wh-where the fuck did you learn that?!"

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably as you lift yourself off of his dick, falling sideways onto the bed.

"I...just thought to try it," you sigh, "Never thought I'd get you to whine like that. Fuck, Kat. That was ungodly hot."

His face is burning red and heat traveling down his neck, somewhat embarrassed at his reaction of losing himself in the moment.

"Oh no, you don't get to be embarrassed! With half the shit you do to me?!" you tease, kicking his thigh jokingly with your foot. He grumbles, scrunching his brows together and crossing his arms.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you."

"Good, ya better. Now move your ass over and make room for me."

Katsuki flops next to you, too exhausted to get up from the bed. He wraps an arm around your waist and one under your head, cradling you close as your cheek meets his chest. You can hear his heartbeat thumping away as you close your eyes to the rhythm. He kisses your forehead before laying his head back against the mountain of pillows.

"Guess I should go away on missions more often if that's what I get 'ta come home to, shit. Feels like I just ran a fuckin' marathon."

You can't help but giggle, fighting off the itch to drift into slumber a little longer.

"I'm sneaking into your hotel room next time. No way am I waiting that long again!"

The two of you snuggle close, despite the ungodly amount of sweat coating your bodies and mugginess in the air, too enamored with one another to care.

"I love you so much, sweets. Don't forget that." Katsuki's voice is quiet, the words tightening in his throat as he speaks them aloud.

"I love you too, Katsuki. Forever and always."

He's satisfied with your answer as he closes his eyes, letting the wave of fatigue settle in his bones and lull him to sleep.

tagging @pastelbakugou as a thank you for the idea of a follow up 👀✨ no pressure tags!: @maddietries @slayfics @bkgrl @bub-ss hoping this was explosive enough! 🧡💥

PLAYER ﹗ TWO ›› kenna kozume x reader.

・ since middle school, you’ve had the same two friends—well, two plus the online friend you play games with. despite knowing him for so many years, you’ve never seen his face. which is okay with you—you’re not too social, anyway.

✉︎ can we play stardew val ⨾ you, kaori suzumeda, keiji akaashi. ✉︎ get ken out of the house challenge go ⨾ kenma kozume, tetsuro kuroo, bokuto koutarou, keiji akaashi.

taglist is open. smau/traditional. specific cw added at the beginning of each chapter. no update schedule. also, for the sake of the plot; fukurodani is not located in tokyo, but rather closer to karasuno! also kaori is a year younger than she is in canon.

★★★ ❪ INVENTORY ❫

⛶ Medkit : prologue.

⛶ Small Key : chapter one.

⛶ Map : chapter two.

mdni. explicit sexual content. streetracer!caleb x rival!female reader

streetracer!caleb who saw red the moment you cut him off at the end of the race and stole the win like it was nothing. didn’t matter that you rode for whatever gang would pay you. didn’t matter that you disappeared right after. all he remembered was the flash of your taillights and that cocky smirk you threw over your shoulder. he’s been chasing you ever since.

streetracer!caleb who finally sees you again, leaning against a busted bumper from your previous race like you owned the ground he walked on. you were talking slick with grease on your hands and heat in your smile. he should be furious. instead, his mouth is dry and his pants are tight.

streetracer!caleb who can’t stop eyeing you. and your bumper. mostly you. he knows he should walk away, but instead, he ends up circling your busted ride, jaw clenched, voice low as he mutters, “you’re gonna kill yourself on a run if you don’t fix this.” and when you ask if he’s offering to help, his silence says everything.

streetracer!caleb who watches you win again—this time against one of his own—and it pisses him off. not because you’re better, but because it turns him on. you drive like a devil and smile like a sinner. every time you touch your car, he’s thinking about what else you could handle like that.

streetracer!caleb who caught one of your sponsors hanging around the pit before a race and nearly lost it. “that your new money maker, sweetheart? or do you just let anyone under your hood?” his voice is calm, deadly, but his hand flexes like it’s aching to shove the guy off the map. you just smile and tell him to focus on not losing again.

streetracer!caleb who races better angry, and nothing pisses him off more than seeing you smile at someone who isn’t him.

streetracer!caleb who jerks off in the shower after every run in with you, forehead pressed to the tile, teeth grit, muttering your name like he hates it. and he does. he hates how much he wants you. how every moan in his head sounds like yours. how sometimes, when he’s close, he imagines you calling his name just to wreck himself even more.

streetracer!caleb who tells himself it’s just tension. just heat. just rivalry. but the way his hands shake after he sees you race in other crew’s colors, the way he grips the wheel imagining your thighs wrapped around his waist—he knows better.

streetracer!caleb who kisses you like he’s starving once you finally break. after weeks of bickering, eye fucking, half threats and breathless moments. when you finally grab his jaw and yank him in he groans into your mouth like he’s waited his whole goddamn life for this.

streetracer!caleb who fucks you in his backseat with the windows fogged up and your panties shoved into his pocket like a trophy. who says “you wanted a rematch? here’s your fucking prize.” as he presses your knees to your chest and makes you cum around his fingers before he even gives you his cock.

streetracer!caleb who talks you through every orgasm like he’s worshipping you. “that’s it, baby. just like that. you’re takin’ me so well. never seen someone so perfect fall apart this hard.” his voice is velvet over gravel, low and hungry, like he’s falling apart right with you but refuses to stop until you’re ruined.

streetracer!caleb who doesn’t look you in the eyes right after, because if he does, he’ll lose. not the race. not the war. he’ll lose himself in you.

a/n: yall im wet as fuck rn... im writing sylus' full streetracer fic but best believe caleb's is next