Hinata ☀️

── 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐔 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. switch dynamics for both shoyo and reader. hand job, inappropriate use of professional titles. semi public sex. — i just cannot get the thought of calling him senshu out of my mind v_v

— . ｡˚ ♡ letting him fuck your fist after the all stars game.

"'m so tired," hinata leans close and whispers in your ear, taking your wrist and squeezing gently as he leads you back into the locker room, now empty after everyone had finished up, having taken their things and left.

pushing you against the wall — the smooth surface cool against your body with the effect of the air con — he presses his forehead against yours as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his bright hair.

you kiss him, and he's quick to deepen it, opening his mouth and humming with satisfaction when he tastes your lip gloss on his tongue — his hands place themselves around your waist, pulling the lower half of your torso against his, bumping your bodies againt eachother— and when he feels your breath hitch at the contact, he smiles, breaking the kiss so he can look in your eyes. "wanna fuck in here?"

"thought you were tired." you say, voice soft as you meet his gaze with a half-lidded stare. you say it like you're denying his cute little request, but your actions show off otherwise — running a hand slowly down his chest — the fresh, white t-shirt he'd put on after his shower clings to his form beautifully, and you trace his muscles with gentle fingers as you make your way down. "don't you wanna go back to the hotel?"

"maybe i just wanted you to baby me," hinata grins, amber eyes sparkling as he leans in again, pressing hips lips back on yours. "give me kisses 'n suck my cock, make me feel better."

you try not to let it show, but a smile tugs at your mouth anyway, and you finally slip the hand that's been playing about with the waistband of his shorts through, slowly wrapping around his hardening cock—

you barely have his dick fisted before it's twitching in your grip, leaking hot precum onto the tips of your fingers. "mm, i didn't think the matchless hinata-senshu would need babying."

"huh?" hinata asks, brows creasing with pleasure when you swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting the sticky beads of cum and spreading it across his length, pumping his cock at an agonizingly slow pace — he braces himself with a palm placed flat against the wall by your head, other arm circling around your waist and pulling you into him. "say that again, baby."

you look into his eyes again, and see that familiar, sharp glint flecked into his fiery orbs — bringing your lips closer, right against the shell of his ear, you repeat what you knew he wanted to hear. "you like it? when i call you senshu?"

the squeeze you give his cock along with your words has him stumbling forward — maybe he really is tired — and he jerks his hips, cock now all flushed as he starts fucking into your fist, lips parting to let out a chain of hoarse pleas for you to say it one more time, for you to tighten your grip and move your hand up and down for him.

you hear the sound of footsteps passing by the locker room doors, the faint murmur of voices fading in and out — a thrill runs up your spine at the realization that fuck, you're gonna have to make this fast, or you'll get caught.

get caught? and have people find out you're fucking the star of the entire game, the entire monster generation, in the lockers after a game that he'd flown all the way from brazil for?

"c'mon, shoyo," you whisper, as he shuts his eyes and presses his face into your neck, exhaling heavily, his hot breath sending more shivers through you. "hurry up and cum, and then we can get back, finish things up there."

"hah — say it," he stutters, smelling of citrus and sweat as he falls into you, heavy and hot against your smaller frame, bicep flexing beside your face as he presses his forearm onto the wall, forehead resting on your shoulder, eyes fluttering open so he can see how you work your hand over his length, and meet your movements with shallow thrusts of his hips.

you wanna make him moan, wanna drive him over the edge of his high and beyond, into overstimulation, you wanna get on your knees and suck him dry right here and now — but really, you cant risk getting caught, no matter how tempting it is to fuck him in here, where any staff or cleaner could unlock the doors and walk in on you.

"you like cumming on my fingers, don't you?" you urge, free hand lazily carressing his stomach, feeling the way his abs flex and how his breathing becomes tentative and hurried as you slacken your wrist and bob your fist faster around his cock. "go on and cum for me. i know you like it, senshu."

"fuck," hinata growls, and you think he's about to cum — you know he's real damn close — but then he stops you from moving by clamping the hand that he'd kept at your hip this whole time around your wrist.

his hold is rough, and when he pulls your hand off his cock, grabs your chin and drags your face up so you see his expression, you see the fire in his eyes has picked up.

"yeah, i like cumming on your fingers." he rasps, and you experience for yourself firsthand, just how strong he's gotten, when he places his hands firmly at your side and lifts you off your feet, moving your positions around so he can rest his back against the wall and do this comfortably.

"mmh," you whine, when he puts you back down and grabs at the waistband of your skirt and pulls it down, snaps your panties to the side.

"on my cock, baby, make it fast," he breathes, pulling you onto him so his length is pressed to your ass, the precum streaked all the way down to his base slick against your fluttering cunt.

"i like cumming on your fingers," he whispers, snaking one hand up your torso and wrapping it around your throat, pulling your back to his chest — you realize that you're going to be stuck here in the lockers with him for a lot longer than you thought—

and as he slips his cock into your cunt, he says, breath hitching in your ear, "but i like cumming in here way more."

EXCUSE ME ????? @21-06-1996 LOOK AT THIS PLEASE

hi! could you do bakugo x reader and she gets pregnant while they're in UA? (college au)

Unplanned

Your hands tremble as you stare down at the tiny test in your grip. Two pink lines. It’s faint, but there. You check the instructions again, as if you haven’t already memorized them, as if the result is going to change.

“Oh, shit.” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open makes you jump. “Oi, what the hell’s takin’ you so long?” Bakugo’s gruff voice echoes in the small dorm bathroom.

You don’t respond immediately. You can’t. Your pulse is hammering in your ears, drowning out every rational thought. How are you supposed to tell him?

“Hey.” His voice is closer now. He must’ve stepped inside. “You sick or somethin’?”

You whip around, nearly knocking over the soap dispenser in your panic. “Katsuki!” You hide the test behind your back, swallowing thickly. “What are you doing in here?”

His eyes narrow. “What the hell do you mean? This is my dorm too, dumbass.”

Right. You’re in his dorm. You hadn’t even realized your feet took you here instead of your own.

His crimson eyes scan you, taking in your nervous stance, the way your shoulders are hunched, how your grip behind your back is so tight your knuckles have gone white. He scowls. “What are you hiding?”

Your heart lurches. “Nothing!”

“Bullshit.” He steps forward, faster than you can react, and before you know it, his hand is snatching the test from behind your back.

“Wait—”

But it’s too late. His gaze drops to the small stick in his grasp. A thick silence follows.

For once in his life, Katsuki Bakugo is speechless.

You watch his expression shift—confusion, realization, then something unreadable. His grip tightens around the test, and his breath comes out in a slow, controlled exhale. “The fuck is this?” His voice is eerily calm.

You swallow hard. “I… I just found out. I was going to tell you, I swear—”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s just standing there, staring at the test like it’s a grenade about to go off.

“Katsuki?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.

His gaze snaps to yours. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod.

Another silence.

Then, his shoulders sag. He rubs a rough hand down his face and exhales sharply. “Shit.”

“I know.”

His hands go to his hips, and he paces the tiny bathroom like a caged animal. “How the fuck did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened—” He stops and glares at you. “Were you not on the pill?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just askin’!”

“I was!” You throw your hands up. “I don’t know, maybe it failed! Maybe you have super sperm! I don’t know, Katsuki, I didn’t exactly plan this either!”

He groans, dragging both hands through his hair before resting them on his hips again. His jaw is clenched so tight you think he might break his teeth.

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters.

Your stomach sinks. “You think I can?” Your voice wobbles. “Do you think I wanted this? We’re still in school, Katsuki.”

His head snaps up, and the way his gaze sharpens makes your breath hitch. “What? You think I’m just gonna ditch you?”

You blink. “I—”

“The hell do you take me for?” His voice is rough, but not angry. Not exactly. “I wouldn’t fucking do that.”

You suddenly feel small, vulnerable in a way you’re not used to. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

He exhales slowly. When he steps forward, he’s cautious, deliberate. His hands land on your shoulders, firm but gentle. “Hey.” His voice is softer now. “We’ll figure it out.”

Your eyes sting. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” A deep breath. “We’re gonna be fine.”

You don’t know if that’s true. But for now, you let yourself believe him.

katsuki i need u so bad brah bae bae mmmm

the pageant (snippets!) — bakugo k.

bakugo k. x calm fem!reader│word count: 2.9k

synopsis: For their last school festival, Class B challenges Class A to join them in the pageant. With yn as their chosen representative, Bakugo was more than ready to make sure she wins.

cw/tags: fluff, established relationship

“Me?” yn asked, blinking slowly.

What was meant to be a relaxed evening of festival planning between Class A and Class B quickly turned competitive. 

Kendo had started telling stories about pageant preparations when Monoma, ever the instigator, had cut in with that infuriating smirk. “Funny how Class A’s never even tried the pageant. What’s the matter? No one pretty enough?”

And just like that, the gauntlet was thrown.

Mina, never one to back down from a challenge, had been the first to rise to the bait. Now she pointed excitedly at yn, who sat next to Bakugo, nursing a cup of tea, blissfully detached from the brewing storm.

“You’d be perfect,” Mina gushed. “You’re gorgeous, super chill, and you’ve got that ‘mysterious but approachable’ energy that pageant judges would totally eat up.”

“Are you all serious?” Bakugo spoke up. He had been quiet this whole time, clearly uninterested in whatever dumb rivalry Monoma was trying to stir up. “You’re really going to let this extra provoke—”

“Sure,” yn said simply, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “Could be fun.”

Bakugo turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s our last year.”

Monoma’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?” He let out a theatrical laugh. “Well, if that’s your choice, I suppose there’s no harm.”

Bakugo stiffened.

“What’d you say?” he asked, his tone dangerously low.

But Monoma didn’t back down. “Just being realistic. You can’t expect someone like her to keep up with someone like Kendo.”

"MONOMA, YOU IDIOT—!" Kendo launched herself at her classmate, delivering a swift karate chop to his shoulder

But the damage was done. 

Something in Bakugo’s expression changed, a familiar fire igniting in his crimson eyes. He stood up slowly, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re on,” he said, voice firm. “We’re entering, babe. You’re winning that damn crown.”

Yn merely picked her tea back up, hiding a smile behind the rim of her cup. “Guess we’re doing this then.”

The next morning, Bakugo personally took charge, dragging everyone to the common room and barking orders.

“Alright, extras. Listen up! This ain’t a damn pageant. This is war, and we are not losing to those Class B losers!”

“Ooooh, Bakugo’s invested,” Mina beamed.

Bakugo ignored her comment and started pointing at everyone. “Racoon Eyes, Invisibitch—you’re on make-up! Shitty Hair, Flat Face—props! Ponytail, you’re with me on wardrobe! Dunce Face—you stay far away from anything important!”

“Rude!” Kaminari yelped, clearly offended.

Yn bumped her shoulder lightly against Bakugo’s. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Bakugo shoved her back with equal lightness. “Shut up. And get your ass moving too!”

Bakugo slammed three different fabric swatches onto the common room table, making the coffee cups rattle. “Charmeuse is the only option. Anything else is garbage.”

Momo frowned, holding up a shimmering sequin. “But this would catch the light beautifully—”

“IT LOOKS LIKE A DAMN DISCO BALL. NEXT.”

Yn yawned, resting her head on her arms. “I liked the disco ball idea.”

Bakugo flicked her forehead. “You’re not helping. And go to bed.”

Jiro strummed the final chord on her guitar, nodding as yn sang the chorus flawlessly. “Damn, you’ve got pipes.”

Yn huffed a laugh, reaching for her water bottle. “Only because you’re playing along. I’ve got nothing compared to you.”

Jiro set her guitar aside, uncrossing her legs. “Seriously, why don’t you sing for the live performances?”

A shrug. “I honestly didn’t know I could. Katsuki’s the one who mentioned it.”

Jiro’s eyes widened. “Wait. Bakugo pointed it out?” Then a slow grin spread across her face. “How’d that even come up?”

Yn blinked. “I, uh, hum sometimes. When we’re… napping.”

Jiro’s smirk turned lethal. “Oh my god. You lullaby him.”

“And… I regret telling you,” yn said with a sigh.

Jiro cackled, kicking her legs like an excited kid. “That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.” She flipped over and grabbed her phone. “Mina’s gonna lose her mind!”

Yn lunged at her. “Hey, Jiro! No!”

Bakugo watched as yn took one more wobbly step in the strappy heels Momo had made before immediately grabbing him for support.

“Yeah… I don’t think I can do this,” she declared, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“But they’re perfect!” Mina said. “Look at your legs!”

“Look at my ankles,” yn shot back, gripping Bakugo’s shoulders for dear life. “They’re about to snap.”

Bakugo slowly knelt down, his fingers gently undoing the straps. “Told you. Ditch the death traps.”

“But she looks so pretty in—” Uraraka protested.

“She’s wearing shorter heels. Just make ‘em pointed so she’d look taller,” he announced, tossing the heels aside.

“Hey!” Momo yelped as she caught them.

Monoma, disguised in a terrible wig, peeked into the stage where yn was practicing.

Kaminari spotted him instantly. “Uh, guys? We’ve got a spy.”

Bakugo didn’t even look up. “Flat Face.”

Sero grinned, happily taping Monoma up, while Shoji picked him up, ready to dump him in Class B’s dorm.

Yn waved as they passed her. “Tell Kendo I said good luck!”

Yn pushed open the common room door, blinking at the unexpected sight of Bakugo hunched over the sofa, papers in hand.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, sitting in the space beside him.

Bakugo shifted slightly to make room without looking up. “Still rehearsing for the live show.”

“And… you’re not playing the drums?” yn asked, leaning back onto the couch.

“Tch. Already nailed my part,” he muttered, finally tossing the papers onto the coffee table and slumping back. “They’re just screwing around now.”

Yn hummed, letting the silence settle between them. The easy kind that only existed when it was just the two of them.

She inched closer, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. 

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He leaned into the contact, his cheek brushing against her hair.

“Missed you,” he grumbled.

Yn laughed. “Katsuki, we share classes, a dorm, and now this pageant thing. I see you more than my own reflection.”

“With the extras,” he emphasized, nose wrinkling.

“Aww,” she cooed, playfully poking his side. “You wanted me all to yourself.”

Bakugo huffed, a flush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

Grinning, yn removed her slippers and curled up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she looped an arm around his. “Well…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, heart thudding in her chest. “You’ve got me now.”

Bakugo turned, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. “Yeah?”

Yn nodded, her smile soft. “I missed you too.”

Bakugo’s expression softened. His hand rose to cup her cheek, rough fingers gentle against her skin. When she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering close for a second, Bakugo looked at her like she was the only thing in his world.

He tilted her chin up, slowly closing the space between them. Their eyes slipped shut, breaths mingling as their lips finally—

“Hey, Bakugo! We’re back!” Kirishima’s voice rang out, the door slamming open.

Bakugo groaned, jerking away. He slumped back against the couch, scowling at the ceiling in silent, dramatic defeat.

The notification buzzed against yn's palm as she lay curled in bed, the glow of her phone painting soft light across her face. She didn't need to look at the sender to know who it was.

Stop scrolling through your damn phone and sleep.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she typed back, How do you know I'm scrolling?

The reply came instantly. Because you replied immediately.

Yn smiled, adjusting against her pillows. Maybe I'm meditating.

Bullshit. You're looking at memes.

She glanced at the image still open on her screen—a cat wearing a tiny, lopsided crown—and sent it without hesitation. Okay, but this one's good.

Her phone lit up with his response, the letters practically vibrating with indignation even through text. THAT'S LITERALLY JUST A CAT.

A royal cat, she corrected.

Go. To. Bed.

Can't. Too busy manifesting my victory.

The next message contained a single image: an alarm clock set for 5 AM with the caption ‘WAKE YN UP.’

Meanie, she sent, already dreading the early hour.

You'll thank me when you're not yawning on stage tomorrow.

Yn sighed, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit it. Fine. But only because you're cute when you're bossy.

The bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared. Finally—

You'll kill it tomorrow. If anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll blow ‘em up.

Her breath caught, thumb hovering over the screen. She smiled and sent her response.

I know I will. But thanks, Katsuki. Love you.

GO TO SLEEP.

Yn chuckled, about to turn her phone face down on the nightstand when Bakugo sent another message.

Love you too.

Yn stepped onto the stage, quiet and composed, mic in hand. Her presence alone was enough to hush the crowd. She paused at the center, took a breath, and closed her eyes.

From the back of the crowd, Bakugo stood with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on her. Her face glowed on the giant screen behind her, casting her features in a soft, angelic glow. 

Then the music began.

She began to sway to the melody, and when the moment came, she opened her eyes. Her voice followed, gentle and warm, filling the space like sunlight. 

The crowd didn’t dare move. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like polite silence. But Bakugo knew better. They were captivated. Hooked.

He smirked, pride swelling in his chest. Atta girl.

The song swelled with sentiment, a delicate ballad that mirrored her soft delivery. But then, without warning, it began to rain.

Gasps echoed. A few umbrellas popped open in the audience. Bakugo’s entire body went tense, instinctively stepping forward, already half-ready to shield her.

But yn didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped into it, letting the droplets catch in her hair, cling to her skin, trailing down her cheek like tears.

She turned slightly, just enough to angle her body toward the light, the water shimmering like it was part of the act. Her voice never wavered, staying smooth and steady.

Bakugo blinked. Then, he saw it.

That small tilt of her head. That calculated pause in her breath. The barely-there smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

She was guiding the moment, twisting the sudden downpour to make her performance more dramatic. She pulled their hearts with gentle precision, painting herself as this fragile, ethereal heroine.

And they were eating it up.

Bakugo scoffed, grinning to himself.

He knew better though.

Underneath that calm exterior, yn was competitive as hell.

She just hid it better than most.

Like how she always walked just a little faster whenever Sato brought out fresh cookies, slipping through their rowdy classmates like it was nothing, but always managing to snag the first one.

Or how she’d lean back and smile during game nights, cool as ever, until someone beats her in Mario Kart. Then suddenly, she’d be sitting forward, knees tucked up, focus lazer-sharp.

He’d seen it in training too. She’d nod absently when given instructions, like she was barely paying attention. But the second someone started getting ahead of her, her punches got sharper, her footwork quicker.

And she never backed down.

Not even when Bakugo dared her to eat the spicy noodles he made just to mess with her. She’d just stare at him, eyes watering, and eat the whole damn bowl out of spite.

She just hated to lose.

And that was one of the first things he ever loved about her.

The crowd probably saw an angel.

But all he saw was her.

Then, mid-verse, she looked up.

Right at him.

The connection hit fast. Strong. Like she'd reached straight through the crowd and found him exactly where he stood.

The mic hovered close to her lips.

The next line was supposed to be a tender, heartfelt I love you. A perfect romantic finish, made to be sung.

But she didn’t sing it.

Instead, she spoke. Changing the words, uttering it so softly. Like a secret passed only to him.

“Thank you.”

The word whispered through the speakers, yet somehow it was louder than everything else.

The crowd melted.

But Bakugo didn’t move. He couldn’t.

His heart was pounding, loud and erratic in his ears, drowning out the cheers.

He never believed in soulmates or any of that mushy crap. That wasn’t them.

He and yn weren’t some fairytale couple. They were two stubborn, messy people who’d somehow figured out how to make it work. No sparks or fate—just time, effort, and a whole lot of understanding.

Their relationship wasn’t built on sweet words or perfect moments. It was built on them showing up. On backing each other up. On knowing when to push and when to just be there.

And right now, standing there soaked in rain, watching her express her gratitude so beautifully—Bakugo felt it. All of it.

Up there wasn’t just his girlfriend doing some cutesy stage performance.

That was his person. His partner.

The one person who called him out, kept him in check, pushed him to be better—but never once asked him to be someone he wasn’t.

And he didn’t know what the future looked like after graduation, or what kind of shit they’d face out in the world.

But he knew one thing for sure:

He wasn’t letting her go.

Yn barely had time to adjust her crooked crown before the Bakusquad descended like vultures, hungry for drama.

“OHHHH, LOOK WHO'S EATING HIS WORDS NOW—” Kaminari howled, slinging an arm around Monoma's stiff shoulders.

“Funny,” Sero mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I could've sworn someone said we ‘lacked elegance’—”

Monoma's eye twitched. “I believe I said refinement—”

“YET HERE WE ARE!” Mina spun in front of him with a dramatic flourish, gesturing toward yn’s glittering crown. “This queen just wiped the floor with you. In the rain, no less!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Yn stepped forward with a sigh, trying—and failing—to hide the amused sparkle in her eyes. “We shouldn’t rub it in…”

She paused.

Then pulled out her phone, the screen already glowing. “...without proper documentation!”

The Bakusquad erupted.

“OHHHHHH!!!”

“SHE’S ARCHIVING THE SHAME!!!”

“SEND THAT TO THE CLASS CHAT!!!”

Bakugo, trailing just behind her, let out a bark of laughter. He leaned over her shoulder, fingers zooming in on Monoma’s scowl. “Hold still, Knockoff.”

Monoma looked ready to combust. “This is harassment!”

Kirishima, barely containing his own laughter, grinned widely. “Yn use the clown filter. For accuracy.”

Kendo, watching the chaos with amused resignation, shook her head. “You're all terrible.”

“We learned from the best,” yn replied sweetly, passing her phone to Kirishima and patting Monoma on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “Thanks for the inspiration. You’ve been great for morale.”

Kendo chuckled and stepped in, offering a hand. “Seriously, though. You were incredible.”

Yn’s smirk softened. She took Kendo’s hand, squeezing it. “Thanks. You were amazing too. Had me sweating for a second. You made the competition tough.”

Kendo grinned and pulled her into a quick, warm hug. “Coming from you? That means a lot.”

They parted with a shared look of respect before Kendo dragged a sputtering Monoma off by the collar, still mid-rant.

Then, finally, yn let the tension drain from her shoulders. She turned and collapsed into Bakugo’s side, face buried in his chest.

“Carry me,” she mumbled into his shirt, her voice muffled and sleepy.

Bakugo let out a low chuckle, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah, yeah. I got you, princess.”

The stars were out. Quiet, for once.

Yn climbed the stairs slowly, her sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. She found him exactly where she expected—leaning against the railing, arms folded, gaze turned skyward.

“You avoiding the party?” she asked, voice light.

Bakugo didn’t look at her. “Tch. Too loud.”

She joined him at the railing, shoulder brushing his.

“I can’t celebrate my win without my coach, y’know,” she teased, glancing up at him.

That earned a small scoff. “You didn’t win ‘cause of me.”

“I didn’t win without you either,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared ahead, jaw tight. Then—

“You were amazing,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Stupidly amazing.”

Yn smiled. “You’re getting better at compliments.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but his ears were definitely pink.

Silence followed, settling comfortably between them, soft and familiar.

“But I was a bit scared, you know,” yn admitted after a moment.

Bakugo snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Could’ve fooled me.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious, jerk.” Then, more quietly, her expression softened. “I kept looking for you.”

Something flickered in his eyes. The distance between them diminished.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

This time, when they leaned in, there was no hesitation. Her fingers curled into his hoodie, his fingers hovered near her jaw, and the rooftop felt quieter than it had all night.

Their noses brushed, lips just about to meet—

“Yo! There you guys are!”

Bakugo’s forehead fell to yn’s shoulder with a low, agonized groan.

“Shitty Hair,” he growled, not even turning around. “I swear to god—”

“I just came to tell you there’s cake!” Kirishima grinned from the door, completely unbothered. “But hey, don’t stop on my account—”

“Kirishima.”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!”

He disappeared back down the stairs, laughing.

Yn pressed a hand to her mouth, giggling into her palm. “Next time then,” she whispered, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah… fuck that,” Bakugo muttered, before tugging her in by the waist. “C’mere.”

WHEN YIU ,, WHEN ,, WHEN YOU ,, YOU ,, YOU ,, WHEN YOU ,, WHEN—

Competitive bakugo over a nonchalant y/n😏😏😏😏

competitive katsuki trying to win over nonchalant reader

everyone knew bakugo was competitive, always trying his best and fighting the hardest, no matter who he was against or what situation he was in. he always gave it his all. however, he thought he could do nearly everything on his own, he was incredibly independent, even hating it when people tried to help him with something, not wanting others to see him as weak.

but he did what he had done since middle school; put other people down to make himself feel better. unfortunately, you and midoriya were victims of it, but the two of you had very different reactions.

midoriya was always nervous to stand up for himself until a few months ago, when he became more confident in his abilities, which you applauded him for. bakugo, on the other hand, also made fun of you for god knows what. it was never for a specific reason, just picking on you because he didn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you.

but he was always frustrated with how you’d react. normally, after he would laugh and point a finger at you, you would just shrug and walk over to your friend, talking to them with an emotionless tone. he’d follow you, yell at you, just for you to do it all over again. he hated how you didn’t react in any sort of way.

so when the two of you sparred, and he won a match, he would yell and brag about it, calling you a sore loser and smirking in your face. you responded, looking at a nearby wall for a second, “good job, i guess.”

he frowned, “you guess? what the hell do you mean ‘i guess?’ you lost fair and square, y/n!”

you hummed and shrugged, causing him to march up to you with a scowl. he asked, “why do you always act so damn calm? cry or smile or feel emotions for once! you’re acting like icy hot!”

“i do feel emotions, bakugo, i just don’t show them that well. you should learn from me and be calmer, it especially helps in fights.” you almost smirked at the end, teasing him.

he grumbled, “teach me then.”

you raised your eyebrow and hesitantly asked, “really?” you didn’t believe him, assuming it was a trick.

“yes, dumbass. and call me katsuki or whatever, i don’t care.”

“seems like you do care if you’re correcting me.” you retorted, tilting your head and looking up at him.

the tips of his ears pinkened, and his face felt warmer than usual. he grumbled, “shut the hell up,” and used a small explosion near your feet, causing the ground to rumble underneath you.

of course, katsuki didn’t realize his reactions were very readable, and how dark his cheeks became once you teased him.

hope you liked this, it was fun to write!

if i die

IF THE SUN REFUSED TO SHINE...

Izuku Midoriya x fem!reader synopsis: running to him, even after the world turned dark. warnings: angst?, hurt/comfort, childhoodfriend!reader, reader is not a student at u.a, takes place during season 6 ep 137, PRE-RELATIONSHIP, potentially ooc. that's all i think?

It was gloomy that day, the rain had hurtled towards the angry crowd of civilians formed at the front of U.A. Everyone was angry and confused, some felt betrayed and others tricked. They didn’t want him here, fearing for their safety at the thought of the boy with a target on his back. They screamed and yelled, children cried, teachers tried their best to pacify what had started to become a mob.

You thrashed in your mother's arms, a trembling in your lower lip as you tried to claw your way out of the suffocating embrace. "Let go!" You cried, turning to stare at your mother– desperation clouding all rational thoughts in your mind. 

“It’s too dangerous! Calm down!” Your mother scolded, fingers trembling against the sleeves of your sweater, trying to hold you as close as possible– out of harm’s way, just as any mother would. Just like she would when you were younger and would waddle into her room clutching your blanket, wiping at the fat tears that rolled down chubby cheeks. She wanted you safe, in her arms, where you couldn’t be harmed by scared citizens protesting for their safety. 

But you couldn’t let her. Not this time. 

You had to get to Izuku. It repeated like an alarm, loud and insistent as Uraraka’s speech lingered in your ears. You didn’t care if it was dangerous. It didn’t matter to you. As long as you could reach him, touch him, hold him. None of it mattered.

He was probably crying– you know he was. The two of you always held a small knack for knowing when the other was upset, even as children that played in the warm rays of the sun, beaming and giggling happily. “Please! I have to get to him!” You begged, jerking this way and that. “It’s Izuku, mum!”

And then a kid ran past you. He was small and had a red hat, and red sneakers that looked like Izuku’s– a lady cried out after him, “Come back!”  You nearly stopped to stare, but you had become acutely aware of the fact your mother had loosened her grip momentarily to look over her shoulder to identify the voice.

That was your opening. 

You slipped between her fingers, fleeting like a leaf in the wind, an apology in the back of your mind as you pushed your legs into a sprint. The rain splashed under your thundering feet, droplets hitting the bare skin of your legs, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t a priority right now. He was.

Izuku with his green eyes and unruly hair, with his cute little freckles that you always loved. Izuku with his heart of gold and sweet smile, always ready to lend a helping hand. Izuku, who had stopped your world the day he left that letter on your door, shrouding it in a cloud of darkness.

As you shoved your way through the crowd, your heart squeezed as the sight of him became clearer and clearer to you. He was standing now, fat tears rolling down his freckled cheeks as the kid from earlier and a lady with bunny-like features wrapped their arms around him.

“Izuku!” You had barely a second before his name ripped itself out of your throat in a raw, desperate cry. 

His gaze turned up to you, green eyes wide and confused as he registered your presence mere metres away from reaching him. A whispered call of your name fell from his lips, quiet and wavering– more tears streaming down his face. 

There was no time to prepare before your body slammed into his, sending him stumbling back a few steps as your arms curled around his shoulders in a tight embrace, squeezing him tight. “Zuku.” You sobbed, fingers curling into the dirty and tattered fabric of his suit. “Oh god, Zuku. I– I didn’t know where you went after I found that letter. I was so worried and then there were the rumours– Are you–”

Another whisper of your name fell from his lips, big hands resting at your waist and pulling you closer. “I– I’m okay. I’m sorry.” God, his voice. It was still so warm even after all he’s facing. 

You pulled back, just enough to press your forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut– savouring the feeling of him. “Don’t apologise.” You muttered, tears still roaming down both of your faces. “Just… just stay here.” Don’t go. Stay here with me, where it’s safe. You wanted to say, but you knew his departure was inevitable. He would leave you, again. And you’re not sure he’ll return this time.

So you held him closer, lips inches away from each other as you both soaked in the warmth of the other’s embrace. And for the first time in awhile, it felt like the sun was shining once again.

Teacher!izuku coming home from work upset

You were sitting at the table working on your laptop and totally not playing games. You hear shuffling and a loud sigh as soon as your front door swings open along with the rustling sound of shoes and clothes being shed.

You turn to see your husband. His coily green hair tied back apart from the few strands that fall gracefully on the sides of his head.

“ rough day?”

You hum to your partner standing and meeting him before he makes it fully through the hallway. You kiss his cheeks softly, peppering many kisses along his freckled face. He groans slightly in your hands his face scrunching as you kiss him.

He looks down at you with his brows furrowed and a small pout on his face. He was still adorable even as he ages. He huffs out before he finally finds his words.

“ it's just...the kids were only out of school for a month- a month! and it already seems like everything they've learned has slipped their minds!”

You hum and hold his shoulders tilting your head to the couch. He understands exactly what you're talking about and quickly shuffles towards your sofa. He plops down still upset and still rambling on about his day and the kids.

He shuts his eyes yammering on and on, he doesn't even see you slowly get onto your knees. You reach your hands up onto his thigh rubbing it softly as you hum along to his words letting him know you're listening. Your hands trail up to his visible tint and gently touches it. You can feel the thick meat twitch at your subtle touches.

You're unbuckling his belt as he switched the topic to how people seem to not respect him anymore. It honestly saddens you, but you won't let him tread light onto sad topics for long; unbuckling his belt while pulling his cock out of his boxers and allowing it to spring free.

He winces at the feeling of the cold air brushing against the top of his cock. It jolts and begs you to be warmed in your mouth. You place small kisses to his cock and he hums deeply. He inhales keeping himself level minded as he continues to rant.

“ and, like I was saying; it seems like they don't respect me anymore. like no one does, ’ts not fair. I used to be a great hero and I get treated like trash.”

You sink the tip of his cock into your mouth humming around it and nodding as well, its more of a bobbing motion as you glide your mouth up and down on his cock. The vibrations making him groan loudly and place his hand on top of your head. His heavy palm not applying much of any pressure; just lying there.

“ don't deserve that, zu.”

You speak momentarily before slurping his cock right back onto your mouth. You hollow your cheeks to help him feel almost a resemblance of your walls tightening around him. The feeling of velvet pillow like walls snuggling his cock I'm between.

His breaths are changing as his brows knit together and his hips buck into your mouth. You relax the back of your throat to the best of your advantage for every time he thrusts up into your mouth. You didn't want to ruin this moment for him so you did your best not to gag.

“ you... you get it honey, ngh. fuck..”

He lets his head roll back against the couch as you use your hands to stroke the base of his cock that you couldn't fit all the way in your mouth. His thick cock littered with a vein on the side, you let your tongue rub underneath his cock and swirl around the tip of his head licking the slit and sucking harshly around it.

His eyes are fluttering to the back of his head as he tries his damndest to remember whatever it was that he was talking about. Mumbling and struggling to find his words.

“ fuck... I uh.. like I was saying, shit— what...what was I saying..?”

You smile to yourself knowing he's forgotten about what's troubling him. You use your other hand to run his thighs, flexing and tensing underneath your touch and mind numbing head.

He thrusts his hips up a couple of times before a shaky groan leaves him his eyes squeezing shut as he cums down your throat. You cough around his cock trying not to gag at how thick his cum is, the spurts hitting the back of your throat all too quickly.

You finally lift off of him and swallow as much of his cum as you could before being sprayed in the face with more. These were the consequences of not giving him head and failing to swallow it all. You continue to stroke all of his cum out of his cock, milking it all out of him.

His breaths were shaky and he was trying not to whine from the overstimulation, but he didn't dare stop you. You brought a couple of kisses to his cock before letting it lie against his thigh, almost looking like a third leg with the length and intense girth of it.

His eyes were shut and his breaths were heavy, you use this time to quickly grab a towel to wipe your face and his thighs. Izuku needed this moment to relax and catch his breath. You decide to make him a snack before heading to bed, maybe he'd need more from you once he'd gained more of his strength and composure.

the core of dabis character is that he's a front line soldier in the idgaf war, but he's constantly losing

╰┈➤ “𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲” ◦•≫

pairing: quarterback!kirishima x nerd!fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: slowburn smut, face sitting, eating out, penetration, safe sex, overall pretty vanilla, possessive eijirou

Summary: Having a crush on the nerdy girl in your year certainly isn't easy, especially when a game of spin the bottle results in her kissing your best friend.

A valuable lesson you've learned is that hard work is always rewarded. You've consistently achieved success throughout your life, maintaining a stellar reputation, outstanding grades, and strong relationships. Who could deny you whatever you wanted with such principles?

Someone from high up above, it seems. Because no matter how much you yearned for love and companionship, nothing stuck.

Your partners would always say you're too hard to please, too much of an overachiever, just too much. Too stressed, too stressful, too extreme. Sometimes, in the dimness of your room, you wondered if they were right. If you were truly that ambitious you couldn't understand common sense. You dared fantasize that, by some miracle, someone would accept you the way you are someday; a very driven person with clear-set goals for their passions. It sounded appealing in your head, who wouldn't want to be that way, to be that great? But then again, your past relationships begged to differ.

On the other hand, you had beautiful, long-lasting friendships with your high school friends that you were immensely grateful for. They were there for you every step of the way, lifting you from your lowest lows and making sure you were enjoying yourself amidst the efforts of remaining ‘picture perfect’. However, during this particular moment, you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into them, a very unusual occurrence in your group. Given the topic at hand... You wonder why they even brought it up. They already knew your answer.

Mina, Ochako, Kyoka, and Momo are gathered in your dorm room, occupying seats from the desk chair to your bed, blocking off the only exit, aka the door. It's almost strategic so you wouldn't run off, already used to your antics and hatred for serious conversations. Mina speaks first, breaking the ice after you huff disapprovingly.

“Tsuyu can babysit Victor, and you can come with us to this bomb-ass party. You haven't been to one since what, like, freshman year?” the pink-haired girl scoffed and walked over to your hunched figure on the bed as you crossed your arms, avoiding her gaze with palpable pettiness. They used the excuse of making a cute study group to get you to attend some weird frat party. No wonder you were sulky.

“I can't. I told you, I have rehearsal later today,” you countered, finding any excuse not to go. It's not that you didn't enjoy parties, you just preferred private hangouts instead. Like D&D sessions, for example. Those were fun, unlike the sweaty, grimy fraternity parties.

Kyoka jumped in, “Which you can comfortably skip. Half of the marching band is coming to this either way.”

Your nose scrunches up impossibly more before Ochako adds, “Everyone's going to be there! It'd be a waste not to come with. Just this one time? Please?”

Their eyes are pleading with you to accept their invitation and you can't lie and say that your resolve hasn't diminished ever so slightly. You had a soft spot for them whether you liked it or not, often getting roped up in less-than-ideal situations... This wasn't going to be one of them, though. You had to stand your ground.

“If it helps, I'll keep everyone in check this time so you can have your fun. I'm not too keen on drinking and dancing as is. How does that sound?” Momo's proper tone has your pettiness very clearly melting away and you curse yourself for being so weak-willed. No, they had to respect your decision already and you had to look away from their infectious stares as quickly as you could.

“I have class first thing in the morning, I can't—”

“We're not gonna be staying long. Just dance, mingle for a bit, and then go back to our rooms.”

Well, shit. You ran out of excuses.

“C'mon, Y/N, please? Just this once.”

And that's how you found yourself here, spacing out in the middle of a far-too-hectic, far-too-crowded living room, practically melting into the only cushioned couch available. To your friend's surprise, you actually danced your heart out for a bit before plopping down and even downing a beer. You needed the liquid courage to get through this night in one piece and you most definitely needed to rest a bit after... that.

“Didn't know you could move like that, Y/N!” Kyoka praises between giggles, approaching the couch with a beer in hand.

You'd be lying if you said your head wasn't absolutely spinning already, shades of purple, blue, and grey mixing when the room spun. Her words didn't even register at first.

“You can't be fucked up already, can you?” A worried Mina joined the conversation, leaning against the armrest casually. God, you have such pretty friends.

“No, no, I'm okay, I think,” you groan and rub the bridge of your nose, colors then turning into shapes, “It's not the alcohol.”

“Oh, right, your stamina is non-existent. This is why we should party more often!”

“I'd rather not,” you snort, blurry shapes turning into colors as the ground stilled beneath you, eyes finally focusing on what you wanted to see most. “I can think of much better ways to increase my stamina.”

The girls follow your gaze, stopping on a familiar redheaded hunk that has your pupils nearly combusting into hearts. They were very much aware of your crush on the popular quarterback, someone you thought was completely out of your league and never tried befriending yet still admired from a distance, akin to your other likings out of reach. You didn't want to admit it, but he was one of the reasons why you accepted to come in the first place. You had it bad for him and his stupidly handsome face and his ridiculously muscular body that had you practically drooling when he was in your vicinity. And to top it off, he was the nicest man on campus — and honestly, the nicest man you've ever met, or well, knew of — it was beyond nuts how perfect he was. That explained the hoard of girls suffocating him wherever he went, but it didn't make it any less obnoxious, driving you away from interacting with him entirely. You've always had a thing for things outside of your reach, after all. Maybe that's also why you put him on such a pedestal because, surely, he had some flaws himself. You couldn't seem to find them, though.

Kyoka's gag interrupted your train of thought, “I have no idea how you go from needing a babysitter for your clarinet to thirsting over some himbo. C'mon, he's not even all that.”

“You're talking. The blond ‘himbo’ you have a crush on isn't that much different. Y/N has great taste,” the pink-haired girl countered, leaning closer to you in hopes of seeing him better, but the dense crowd obscured her vision, “It's just that he's in very high demand. He's not out of your league by any means, just... Yeah.”

You groan, crossing your arms, “I'm aware. That doesn't make me like him any less, though. Tell me something disgusting men do, quick.”

“They don't shower?”

“He literally smells like orange-scented body wash. Bet he tastes like it, too.”

“You're not helping, Mina!”

“Girls!” Momo's voice echoes from somewhere in the crowd, catching your attention. To your utmost surprise, you see the dark-haired girl linking arms with Ochako right next to your crush, jaw dropping when he turns to look at no one other than you. The man has the audacity to send your heart into a frenzy just by grinning, his sharpened teeth on full display for you to imagine how they'd feel against your skin. You realize then and there that simply saying you 'had it bad for him' would be an understatement.

Jesus, has he ever looked that good? You swear that the shirt he has on is new and much tighter, showcasing the mounds of his well-defined abs and pecs. The sweatpants aren't helping either, hanging so low on his hips that his boxers are popping out, text barely concealed by the shirt. You wonder what brand they're from... before noticing the absolute monster in his pants.

A slap on the back of your head brings you back down to earth, suddenly acutely aware of how you were ogling him. And how his gaze was fixed on you the whole time.

The arch of his brow, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards both have your skin igniting with gooseflesh, shoulders tensing as the tips of your ears darkened their color. He caught you staring at him. He caught you staring at his dick. It couldn't be that bad, right? Girls stare at him all the time.

“Come on, babe. And for the love of God, stop being so obvious. I'm getting secondhand embarrassment here,” Mina whispered, pulling you up from the comfort of your new favorite cushion.

You follow without a word due to sheer embarrassment, heels clanking along with the rhythm of the music blasting, its bass thumping within your heart. Oh, shit. It takes you a second to focus, to realize Mina and Kyoka are approaching your other friends who are — less than favorably — conversing with him and his friends. As if on cue, the circling group of girls that weirdly remind you of yourself parts, letting you guys pass and stand in the middle next to Momo. You can barely breathe, avoiding his questioning gaze like the plague, those carmine eyes of his twisting your insides. You pray to any god there is to spare you from this awkward encounter or at least erase his memories of your stare clearly outlining the bump in his sweats. Even better, you pray that the earth swallows you whole, because how are you supposed to talk to him after that? First things first, you need to find an exit. You don't think your heart can handle being in such proximity to him right now.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” you mutter to no one in particular, blending into the crowd without hearing the protests from your girls, before seeing a flight of stairs and quickly ascending to the second floor. There should be an empty bathroom you can lock yourself into for the remainder of this party. You couldn't believe you actually did that, needing to dig the underside of your hands into your skull to get rid of that memory. You enjoyed the sight and you couldn't tell if that made you a pervert or just... really infatuated with him? Oh, you were for sure a pervert.

“Dumbass,” you let the word slip out quieter than a whisper once you deem the desolate hallway a safe place to scold yourself.

Maybe you were exaggerating, maybe you weren't, but you couldn't help it. You liked the guy and you wanted to talk to him at some point, see if your personalities match, and maybe become friends — something you're not so sure you'll be able to do now. But you're adults, right? He'll probably understand. Right?

“That's not very nice,” a deep, rumbly voice startles you, making you turn on your heels so fast that you almost run into its owner, “Woah, there. You okay?”

The universe has got to be fucking with you right now. Because Kirishima Eijirou, the man you have a crush on and shamelessly checked out, was towering over you with the same grin on his face he bore just a few moments ago when he caught you peeping. Saying you were a little starstruck wouldn't be quite accurate; you were completely, utterly speechless.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you or anything, it's just...” he licks his bottom lip and you gape at the sight, “You're really pretty. What's your name and could I give you my number?”

What. The. Fuck. I'm dreaming for sure.

It takes you suspiciously long to answer. “Uh... Y-Yeah, sure. My name's Y/N.”

He beams at you with the most brilliant smile you've seen him make and reaches out, albeit hesitantly, to grasp your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. It's as if you're made of porcelain, the way he holds it. Or he's made of something so rough that he doesn't dare apply more pressure to his ghosting touch, the calloused pad memorizing the dips of your knuckles while you stare at it incredulously, eyes wide enough to make you question if he's noticed your predicament. He must've, but why isn't he saying anything? Why isn't he saying anything about... that?

“I'm Eijirou Kiri—”

“I know who you are.”

He pauses, and you mentally slap yourself at how eager you sounded. But he just laughs, “That's great, then. I've seen you around a few times. You're in the marching band, right?”

“Mhm. I, uh, play the clarinet.”

“Awesome! Good to know, maybe I'll pop by rehearsals whenever I have the time to see you play.” Eijirou tilts his head to the side and you're still completely out of it, believing your five senses have betrayed you. Only in your dreams has his cologne been so intoxicatingly sweet. “God, you're really pretty. May I...” he trails off, cautiously glancing into your eyes while tapping the phone in your other hand. You scramble to give it to him, almost dropping it in the process.

“Careful there,” he chuckles, making your skin all tingly when his hand departs to type in his number. “We have a match the day after tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming? I can save you a spot in the front.”

He talks as if he's known you for years. Conversing with him feels so oddly natural that your body relaxes and decides to enjoy this chat, to enjoy his compliments and bold flirting attempts. You stop questioning the authenticity in favor of living in the moment and taking in his features up close. Who knows when you'll get the chance to talk to him like this again? A nerd like you can only dream.

“I think I can come, yeah. Why? You wanna show off?”

“Something like that,” he smiles coyly, handing your phone back, gauging your reaction to the new contact.

‘Eiji <3’

You chew on your bottom lip, holding in a laugh at the contrast between his rough, intimidating exterior and cute manner of speaking. It was all you could do to not say something embarrassing, having a relatively big problem with speaking your mind.

“Thank you,” you say instead, tilting your head to look up at him, finding his gaze already studying you.

“No, thank you,” Eijirou scratches the back of his head, seemingly a bit nervous as well. You could tell that by the reddened tips of his ears, matching his faded, dyed hair. “We're gonna be playing Spin the Bottle soon. I... I want you to be there. To play with us, I mean.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, a telltale sign of your flustered state given his proposal, you reply, “Oh. Yeah, sure, I'll be there in a bit.”

“Mhm. Alright, little lady. See you downstairs,” he bends down slightly, taking your hand in his once more to press a feathery kiss to your knuckles. He had to know what he was doing to your poor heart, right?

Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats and departs, but not before glancing back over his shoulder to say:

“Oh, and my eyes are up here, by the way.”

Fuuuck.

Spin the Bottle is so incredibly boring when almost the entire student body is playing, because your turn never comes. You wait, you watch people make out while your mood turns all the more sour, and you sip your juice disinterestedly.

But the redhead in front of you doesn't fail to capture your attention, like always. When he notices your gaze, he leans back on his large hands which were planted on the ground, tucking his legs beneath himself as he lifts his hips to adjust. Now, you're sure he knows exactly what he's doing, given the way he pushes up just enough to have you imagining the unholy things those hips could do. You subconsciously press your thighs together, eyes trailing the length of his body before settling on his dimly lit, annoyingly handsome face. The grin he bears is nothing short of devilish, but a sweetness lingers behind those half-lidded eyes, presenting his slightly intoxicated state. This man is going to be the death of you and you couldn't find it in yourself to care. He tilts his head to the side and you're done for. He mouths “Pretty” and you're on cloud fucking nine. Dangerous thoughts of just taking his hand and leading him to a secluded place have your mind reeling, the buzzing of the alcohol amplifying your aching need. Neither of you are drunk enough to make those kinds of mistakes, though. Not yet, at least.

But Mina hands you the empty bottle, breaking the little moment you guys had created so suddenly that you can't hide the small pout of your lips. You can't say you're not disappointed, but knowing what will come if you spin the bottle just right makes you giddy with excitement. Angling the glass bottle, you give it a rather weak spin, hoping, praying it lands on the man before you. The bore points toward everyone in the room for a few, agonizing moments in which you feel as though your heart would grow legs and jump out of its place anytime now, before it slows down. It's like time stops when you hear the clinking of it settling on the side, following its trajectory to see who you're supposed to kiss.

Your heart drops.

It's not Eijirou. No, you would've given everything for it to be him. It's his best friend, Katsuki Bakugo.

What unsettles you more than the frown on the blond's lips is the redhead's quirked brow paired with his unwavering grin. Like he's almost challenging you to make out with his best friend right in front of him. He might just be even more of a pervert than you are.

“Get over here already,” Katsuki huffs, patting his lap impatiently. Knowing the center of the offensive linemen and his reputation, you could tell he wanted to get out of here fast, but maybe someone wasn't letting him leave just yet. His friends, you assumed.

Standing up, you slowly make your way over to him, and in an instant, he grabs your wrist to pull you down into straddling his lap. You gasp, eyeing Eijirou from the corner of your eye only to see him stare intently, leaning closer to Katsuki's shoulder.

“Show him what you're capable of, yeah?” Katsuki whispers in your ear, hands coming to smooth the fabric of your dress over your thighs. “The guy is crazy about you.”

His words barely register when he presses his lips to yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He's not your type and that only solidifies from how roughly he kisses you; messily pushing his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing while he squeezes your skin. He swallows all your little noises as you grip his shoulders, trying to tell him to slow down, but he doesn't; he does bite your lip, though, so hard you're sure it's going to bruise. The other students watch you two go at it for a while as they whoop and drink, clapping when Katsuki finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. A frown twists your features as you wipe your swollen lips, a deep chuckle vibrating from the blond at your actions. He licks his lips and smacks your thigh which you take as a sign to get off. You gratefully do, sparing Eijirou another flustered glance as you sit back down next to your friends.

Kirishima was fuming beneath his calm facade. He'd shared girls with Katsuki before, that didn't usually affect him, but for some reason, he felt weirdly possessive over you. Maybe it was more than a silly crush like he'd theorized months ago when he saw you on your way home, big case in hand, oversized clothes, and round glasses on the tip of your nose, and yet still thought you were the most gorgeous girl to ever cross his path. He had a feeling it wasn't only a theory when he saw you asleep at the library, drool pooling on the table and hair sticking out in odd places which pulled a chuckle from his throat and beckoned him over to close the book you were writing notes from. He wanted to test that out as soon as possible, so he gathered the courage to walk up to you during the party. He wanted to see if your gloss tasted as sweet as the fruity scent of your perfume, if your skin was as soft as he'd imagined it'd be.

What he didn't want was to see you make out with his best friend. Even so, he couldn't prevent the growing problem in his pants, having to adjust them slightly to hide it, but it honestly didn't help; the tent was very much visible. You seemed like a great kisser and the pretty shade of your lipstick had him dizzy with want. Want, want, want. He wanted so much of you — everything, if you'd allow him — but most of all, he wanted you to want him back.

And he stared at your retreating figure, wondering how to sweep you off your feet, his thoughts clouded with... less-than-appropriate scenarios. Could you blame him? The tight material of your dress hugged your curves perfectly and he wished he could just bury his face between those plush thighs of yours.

The vibration of his phone caught his attention, pulling it out to see a text had come in from an unknown number.

“It's Y/N. Wanna get out of here?”

In your defense, Mina had given you the idea after you told her about your guys' interaction upstairs, but it still didn't help soothe your anxiety. When you pressed 'send', your hands became clammy and shaky. Would he think you're only after his body? Or worse?

“Thought you'd never ask, pretty. Let's go, my apartment isn't far from here.”

That's how you ditched one of the most awaited parties to bang the most popular guy in your college. He wastes no time; pushing you back against the closed door of his apartment by your hips to press his body against yours, his minty breath fanning over your lips.

“You sure you want this?” he nudges your nose with his, thumbs kneading your waist, his hold firm and electrifying. “I wanted to take you out to dinner first, but...”

You wrap your arms around his neck, cutting him off with a breathy whisper, the clothes doing nothing to obstruct the hard planes of his body touching you in all the right places, “I'm sure. You can take me out tomorrow.”

He grins, hand coming up with newfound eagerness to cup your cheek as he parts your colored lips with his thumb, smearing some of your lipstick onto it, “Deal.”

And then his lips are on yours and you're sure you've never felt more alive. They meld with your plump ones, holding a distinctive warmth that elicits a sigh out of you, fingers instinctively tangling in his hair. It falls loose from the half-up ponytail he had it pulled into, hair tie falling somewhere on the floor but neither of you cares to pick it up. Neither of you dare to interrupt the kiss, not when you've been waiting so long to find out how he tastes like.

His tongue slides into your mouth, expertly brushing yours before pulling out and repeating the excruciatingly slow cycle for a few minutes, savoring your taste. Yep, he was right; fruity flavor. A chill runs down his spine when you subconsciously roll your hips, needing to pin you to the door in order to control his aching need. He wanted to take his time, to explore your body the way it was meant to be explored, to worship it.

Then he feels a small hand rest on his bicep, squeezing and pushing him back slightly. It takes everything in him to pull away, panting heavily with furrowed brows and a deep blush adorning the apple of his cheeks while staring down at you. His throat bobs expectantly.

“I've never, um... I think there's something wrong with my body,” you admit embarrassedly, needing to get it out of the way before things get serious.

“What?”

“I'm just saying that you won't have to focus on me,” you quickly explain, resting your delicate hands on his broad shoulders, “I've never orgasmed with a partner before.”

Eijirou looks absolutely appalled. His sharp jaw slacks open in disbelief, brows furrowing even further to the point where it looks almost comical. He looks offended, you realize.

“No one has made you come before?” his voice is just a tad bit louder than before, his hands trailing down your sides absentmindedly.

“No.” His bewildered stare turns you into a blushing mess which makes you avoid eye contact.

“But you orgasm perfectly fine by yourself?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls you impossibly closer to press a light kiss to the top of your head in a reassuring manner, “We absolutely cannot have that. Jesus, Y/N, that's got to be, like, a crime.”

In the blink of an eye, he hauls you up like you weigh nothing, cradling your knees and back with strong, determined hands. Squeaking in surprise, you cling to him as if your life depended on it, burying your heated face into the side of his neck. Feeling movement, you guess that he's leading you to his bedroom. You haven't had the chance to look at his apartment yet, though. Bummer.

“Having such a gorgeous girl all to themselves and not making her come once? Did they even try?”

You reminisce for a moment, wincing at the memories. You've had terrible partners up until now. “Well...”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Something in your gut shifts at the curse spilling from his mouth, wondering if you've ever heard him do that before. He probably cursed during his matches. It was incredibly hot nonetheless. “Don't worry, pretty girl. I'll take care of you. Even better than Katsuki would.”

Katsuki?

“You don't have to—”

“I want to. More than anything, so please, let me,” his murmur is laced with desperation and you have no choice but to give in. He'd probably get tired of it once he'll see you're not coming.

The path to his bed is a short one and you feel the soft, satin sheets against your back before you know it. He's lowering you onto the mattress of his bed, rough hands smoothing the skin of your thighs as he stands between them, his large frame shadowing you. He places a knee on the edge, propping them up onto his shoulders to keep you there while he kisses your knee. All the while, he's staring down at you, chest heaving and ruby eyes searching yours. You gasp when he bites your calf, applying mild pressure to leave a mark as his hands begin working on taking off your heels. He slides them off with ease, gently massaging your feet to calm your bubbling nerves.

He discards them next to his bed and kisses your bare ankles, before suddenly letting go of your legs and going to sit down with his back to the headboard. You prop yourself up by the elbows, sending him the most confused look you could muster amidst the fogginess of your arousal. He just sinks further, his head resting on a pillow, a smirk tugging the corners of his swollen lips.

“Sit,” he commands, the rumble of his voice making your body move by itself to straddle his waist. His hands find your hips again, squeezing the skin through your dress with a click of his tongue. “Not there.”

He practically manhandles you to sit on his face, your clothed core hovering inches above it as a shocked gasp escapes your throat, hands gripping the headboard to keep elevated.

“Wait, I'm too heavy!” But he's already pushing you down with a force you can't fight, your dress riding up as he does so, revealing your matching underwear in the process. He buries his nose into your cunt, groaning deeply when he inhales your scent for the first time. It's as if he's in heaven and he hasn't begun yet. He can't resist placing a kiss on your clit before using one hand to push the material to the side, his other one keeping you nice and snug on top of him. You feel so embarrassed your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, the position unlocking a new part of yourself. Seeing him laid out under you, admiring your pussy with wide eyes, has you already clenching around nothing. This had to be a dream.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he praises, unable to take his eyes off you, “I'll make you feel so good, baby. Sit down, please? I need to taste you. C'mon.”

Apprehensively, you lower yourself until his mouth makes contact with your folds. He easily spreads them with his warm tongue, lapping to drink the slick pouring like a man starved. The noise you let out is downright sinful; a long, almost relieved moan that makes your head loll back. You've gotten eaten out before, sure, but the guy mistook your clit for the left fold... So, it's safe to say it's never felt so good before and he barely even started.

He licks a stripe up, flattening his tongue against the throbbing bud before flicking it, assessing that might be enough to hear the cute noise you let out once more. And he's right, you immediately mewl and arch your back, trying your damnedest not to grind onto his face. But he's not having it, he sucks on your bud long and hard before releasing it with a pop, locking his lips with your folds instead. This ought to get a good reaction out of you.

It does. Your hips stutter from the intrusion of his tongue diving deep inside you, warm and eager to please. His name spills past your lips, or well, a version of it, one that makes him immediately start bullying your insides.

“Ah— Eiji, god! Ah, fuck,” hearing this, he delivers a good smack to your ass, sending your hips forward from sheer force. You whimper and he rubs the spot as an apology, squeezing it slightly.

When you close your eyes and grind particularly hard against his face, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you cry out. It felt impossibly good; was this what you had been missing out on all this time? Now you felt a little sorry for yourself, too.

But you can't even think with him in between your legs, eating you out like a five-star course meal. Slick and saliva run down your inner thighs, probably making a mess of his chin, the image being almost enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck, Eiji, you're so good... Don't stop, oh my god...”

“Hmm?” he hums and you shiver, sitting straighter now to throw the skimpy dress over your head before leaning back, bracing yourself by placing your palms onto his clothed chest so you could move faster.

“God, fuck, fuck, fuck...” you chant over and over, the length of his tongue making your body turn to mush.

Not only do you melt from his skillfulness, but you also feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach the longer he thrusts his tongue into you, reducing you to nothing but a moaning mess. You rock your hips and squeeze your thighs, essentially suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll to the back of his head while a deep groan vibrates through your folds. Having you clench down on his tongue while you chase your high and cut off his oxygen makes him see stars right alongside you, needing to bury himself deeper, to smother himself with your taste, with your addictive scent. He can't believe he's doing this, but he knows he never wants to stop.

“Eiji, I'm, fuck, I'm gonna—” and just like that, with another thrust of his tongue, you shake as your release washes over you, coating the lower half of his face.

You learn one more thing about Eijirou. He doesn't like to waste any of your precious time.

The redhead dives right back in, not letting you recover even for a second. He's more aggressive with it the second time he makes you come and becomes completely pussy drunk the third time, so much so you have to literally push his head away and slide down to his chest with trembling thighs to get him to stop.

A growl ripples through the room, shocking your pretty fucked out self back to life. God, you really need to work on your stamina.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he pants, propping himself up onto his elbows and grabbing the back of your head, “C'mere, pretty.”

He smashes his lips with yours and you taste yourself on his tongue, core flaring with need once again. As your tongues dance a longing waltz, you find the hem of his shirt and tug at it, earning his attention. He instantly sheds the piece of fabric, reconnecting your lips mere moments later.

The tips of his fingers sneak underneath the cups of your bra, taunting you with a grin. You bite his lower lip in an attempt to speed things up, letting him know just how much you yearn for him. And who is he to deny such a nice, pretty lady like yourself? A hand circles your figure, reaching to undo the clasp of your bra.

“If you'll let me, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world,” he whispers on your lips, leaning his forehead against yours as he removes your bra, drinking in the sight with blown, lovesick pupils. “Just ask and I'll do anything.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, “Well... First off, I want you to fuck me silly. If you can.”

His face lights up, a boyish chuckle rippling through the air, “Your wish is my command. I gotta stretch you out first, so lay back.”

You do as you're told, lying down on the bed as he finally takes off your soaked panties, folding them neatly to place them on top of his nightstand. He crawls over to you, spreading your legs and finding purchase between them while softly squeezing your inner thighs. You take this opportunity to trace the bulging muscles on his body, realizing exactly just how big he was. No wonder he could tackle his adversaries so easily, the man was definitely a gym rat. But something catches your eye; the multiple scars decorating his tanned skin in odd shapes. You follow one on his bicep with the pad of your middle finger, sending a shiver down his spine from the clear tenderness in your touch.

“Where'd you get these from?” you whisper through the darkness and stillness of his room, adding to the intimate factor.

Eijirou glances down, placing a large palm on top of yours, “American football is very... intense, let's say. Don't worry, though. They don't hurt anymore.”

You stare as he kisses the back of your hand, trailing kisses up from your wrist to your elbow, “I see. When you come over, remind me to give you the ointment I have. It's really good for scars.”

Nothing escapes him, a smirk twisting his face at your wording, “‘When’? Damn, sweetheart, you want me that bad, huh?”

You giggle, smacking his beefy arm, “Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

Then his lips find yours again while his middle finger teases your folds, sinking into your twitching hole with ease. You were so wet already from coming three times that just a few thrusts and another finger later, you were more than ready to take him. Finally.

He hooks a finger under his pants and drags them down along with his boxers as he watches your reaction intently. Just before his manhood could spring out, you stiffen a giggle, earning a quirked brow from him.

“‘Mr. Big'?” you quote the brand written on the elastic band of his boxers, pulling a laugh out of him as well.

But then he eases them down, his cock springing free and smacking his stomach in the process, and all you can do is stare wide-eyed. He was insanely girthy, a pang of fear rushing through you at having that inside you. He must've noticed, because he leans over you to press a soothing kiss to your temple, thumb kneading your hip, other hand reaching into his pocket.

“I'll go slow, okay?” he murmurs, placing a pillow under your rear to keep you in a more comfortable position, one that he knew shouldn't hurt, all while ripping open a condom and rolling it on his shaft. “Relax for me, baby.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him pressed against you as he palms his cock, lining it up with your entrance. He runs the tip through your folds once, twice, spreading your slick with breathy groans he can't bother muffling, not when the heat emanating from you has him leaking so much. And when his tip catches your hole, bending the length of his dick slightly as he pushes it in with slow, calculated strength, he nearly comes on the spot. You mewl, clawing at his back while he continues, pushing inch after inch into your tight hole.

“C'mon, angel, just a bit more,” he mutters through clenched teeth at how your pussy clenches like a vice, thumb finding its way to your clit to rub it lazily. “That's it. Good girl.”

“Ah, Eiji, s'too big— Holy fuck!” the words come out muffled because you bite into his shoulder to keep yourself grounded when he slips in so deep he's basically kissing your cervix. You feel elated, you see colorful shapes, and taste iron in your mouth, but god if it doesn't feel good. He's so deep, so warm, the rubber of the condom not doing much to contain the indents of his veins that tickle your walls enough to have you moaning every time he twitches. It's insane, you're connected and the pleasure is insane.

“Feel how good that is, baby? How my cock reaches so deep?” he whispers into your ear, nibbling on it slightly. His hands are on either side of you, making sure you're okay before gently pulling out and thrusting into you again. “Those exes of yours have no idea what they're missing. Seeing your face twist with pleasure and screaming my name is... Fuck, it's the best thing I've ever seen.”

“Ah, ah, Eiji! Faster!”

His hips snap against yours, the unholy noise bouncing off the walls and amplified when he picks up the pace. “Princess, there's nothing wrong with you. Your body is perfect,” to prove his point, he kneads your breast with one hand while the other works on your clit, “And it's only for me. This beautiful, gorgeous body, all mine. You're mine, angel, aren't you?”

The tip of his cock bullies your g-spot relentlessly, effortlessly making you arch your back and your vision blur. Pleasure like this should be illegal, you think through the haze of being fucked so good you know you won't be able to walk for a week.

“Ah, ah, yes! All yours!”

He grins, giving your breast a rest to cup your cheek instead, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. “Good. I'm all yours, too, princess.”

He doesn't even have to tell you to use him as you please, because you're already moving your hips to meet his unforgiving thrusts, searching for your fourth high of the night. Something tells you that you won't be leaving his bed anytime soon and you honestly wouldn't have it any other way. You want him to make you indisputably his, to wipe the taste of Katsuki from your lips — even though he already did, a long time ago.

“You're so tight, fuuuck,” his curse doesn't go unnoticed and you muster up the strength to smirk, knowing you were the one who made Eijirou Kirishima, the nicest man on campus, curse out of pleasure. An achievement ticked off your list.

Glancing up to see your flushed face, the smirk on your lips catching him off guard. His heart races wildly in his chest with a sudden rush of possessiveness and he digs his sharp teeth into the side of your smoot neck, deciding a few marks would look delicious on you. Sucking and licking while he pounds into you like a dog in heat, scratching his back is all you can do to stop yourself from immediately releasing, wanting to do it at the same time as him.

“Such a pretty girl,” he chants praises against your sweaty skin, marking you up without a care in the world, “My pretty girl.”

You squeeze his cock and he gets lost in your gummy walls, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his grunts become louder.

“Angel, I'm not gonna last if you do that,” he nearly whimpers and you know you're done for if he plows into you a few more times, especially with the way his cock twitches when it bounces off that sweet spot he loves to abuse.

“You're so, ah... So handsome... Ah, hng,” you return the praises, shaky hands tangling in his hair to keep his weight on your body like a protective blanket, your back arching off the bed.

His eyes drift down to where one ends and the other begins, noticing a frothy ring of your mixed juices circling his base. That, combined with your words, have the man blushing, hips stuttering as he goes above and beyond to make you feel even better.

“Baby, I can't... Fuck, I'm gonna...”

“Y-Yeah, me too...”

Soon enough, his hand rubs your clit and you soak his lower part in your juices while he spills inside the condom, both screaming for each other while doing so. And it's the most beautiful thing you've ever experienced; so blissed out you can only catch your breath quietly as he pulls out to take off the used rubber, tying it up at the top with shaky hands.

You close your eyes for a moment, basking in the aftermath of making love. This truly felt real, not just plain sex for the man's enjoyment. You don't even realize when he comes back to wipe you down with a damp cloth, lost in your imagination.

“You did so well for me, darling. I'll treat you so well from now on.”

However, you seemed to have forgotten how much stamina athletes possessed. Because you feel his breath fanning your core again, making your eyes shoot open and butterflies swim in your stomach.

“Think you can handle one more for me?”

Imagine how shocked your friends were when you showed up to his match, not only wearing his jersey, but also matching bracelets you guys made on your first date. You finally got the man of your dreams.

© chocogoldie 2024.

a/n: sorry this took longer than it should've!!! was so busy i could barely get any sleep these past few days ajjdkdkd so i'm sorry if it's rushed or just kinda bad in general 🫠🫠 as always, not proofread nor edited!

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