All Might Rising - Dubbed

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched against him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

okay i’m glad you brought back fatgum and sw!reader because i’ve been thinking about them and how they have sex for the first time. in my mind the first time they get intimate they don’t even go “all the way.”

i’ve been picturing this scenario where fatgum says something that’s so sweet or so goofy or so something that it just kind of snaps and she can’t wait anymore. she moves in gently, give him time to turn her down if he wants, but it’s what fatgum wants more than anything in the world. so she kisses him, slow and searing and intense. crawls into his lap on his beat up old couch with the cushions that sag because nothing can hold up for too long under his true form and tries to pour everything she’s been feeling into his mouth.

and when he gets hard it’s so natural. it almost feels innocent, the least sexual thing she could possibly do in the situation. she takes her time again, gives him ample room to stop her if he wants when she pulls his cock out and strokes. he doesn’t last very long, how could he under such skilled hands, the hands of someone he’s loved for so long? the hands of someone he never thought would touch him so willingly?

and in my head she’s so high on the excitement, so confident for the first time in a long time. can’t help but ask how he feels, needs to know that he’s feeling the same electric effervescence under his skin. and it all turns sour, a sickness left in the pit of her stomach when he says he feels good and it’s a lie. when he won’t let her touch him again, even innocently, for months.

he's wanted this for so long. so. so long, but he cant help the guilt that creeps up in his ears. he's no better than the other men that use you for sex now-- he can't deny that he's ever paid for sex now.

you have your mouth around his cock and he's never ever told you his name. you think his a boxer, when he's a liar-- even worse, he knows you can smell it on him.

he can't bring himself to meet your eye. he's just like the other men, the ones that hurt you.

free falling is a taste of freedom

feat: keigo takami / hawks

warnings: language, heaviness, implications of reader and keigo being groomed by the commission, violence (if u squint), bittersweet

cache notes: i crashed out during this so many times omfg. but anyways heavily inspired by circles by pierce the veil and monsters by all time low (once we figure out why spotify links aren't working i'll link the songs heh)

m.list

the first day you met hawks, he was in the training gym working on some stupid trick of his– something about flipping forward and bringing his blades out at the same time and landing some stupid comic book hero– and you had to hide a laugh when he tripped over his own feet. he challenged you to a sparring match later that day, after the weekly commission meeting where you were properly introduced to one another; where he promptly kicked your ass with his fast reflexes and sharp wit. 

the two of you became fast friends after that. 

the first day you met keigo, he had found you on the roof, crying to yourself. that mask of indifference cracked almost instantly the second he saw you turn towards him with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. he doesn’t remember why you were crying, only the fact that the sight made his heart clench in a way that foreign and uncomfortable and he needed to do something about it. 

more times than not here recently, you receive hawks more than keigo. it hurts in a way that’s more nostalgic than anything, like remembering an old childhood friend that drifted away or a home-cooked meal whose recipe you can’t remember because the originator died years ago. 

a lot of people say that young heroes are very mature for their age. you don’t know if that’s just true for the females, or if it qualifies for any of the kids raised in the commission. in yours and hawks’ case; maturity was something learned far too young and quickly. death was a subject brought up before you even got to think about how the summer would feel spent on the side of the lake with a bottle of booze and grilled food. 

the two of you take turns every thursday at each other’s agencies to visit and spend some time with each other. you usually bring paperwork to thumb through, hawks brings coffee and distractions. this thursday, hawks is at yours. he’s got his wings spread so they cover a small portion of your office floor– which scatters feathers everywhere, but you’d scold and make him clean them up later– laying upside down on the small couch to the side of the room. 

he kicks his feet lazily as they hang over the back of the couch, humming as he scrolls through his phone. when he speaks, the sentence is so casual it causes you to choke on your own tongue. “we should run away one of these days.”

when you’ve managed to compose yourself, hawks is not looking at you. his eyes are still locked on the screen, the same look of relaxed concentration that you’ve seen all through childhood on his expression. 

your eyes narrow. “don’t be stupid,” you’re careful about how tight your voice sounds. your fingers pause their actions from typing on your keyboard, your gaze split from the document on your computer to his figure draped over your office sofa. “they’d never let both of us go at the same time.”

hawks barks out a laugh, though the corners of his mouth never fully lift to his natural smile. your tongue is pressed between your lips, biting back a snarky remark. it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious, or just yanking your chain. 

“you’re always so serious, [y/n],” he’s chuckling, still looking at the screen in front of his face. “just indulge me for once?”

your back meets the arch of your office chair as a sigh racks through your body. the blinking cursor stares back at you, taunting you to just continue working instead of diving into the silly hypothetical he’s proposed. but part of you wants to dabble in it– to hear him out. see just how far he’s actually thought into it, if he’s actually planned anything out or just talking casual shit just to have something to talk about like usual when he’s over visiting you. 

“say we did run. where would we go?”

you can see him pause for a moment in his scrolling. “leave the country, obviously. south america maybe?”

a snort leaves your lips, your grin is purely sarcastic. “south america?”

“hypothetical,” he replies, his eyes finally leave his phone and meet yours, flashing that signature grin of his. in the back of your mind you’re wondering if all the blood has rushed to his head yet. he’s been sitting upside-down for a while now, his face is still a normal color. 

“so we’re flying, i suppose?” 

hawks shrugs. he pulls his phone away from his face and lets his arms fall gently to the floor beside his head. “we can,” he starts, his bottom lip juts to the side like it always does when he says something he doesn’t exactly agree with. “or take another mode of transportation.”

a single eyebrow raises to that, and you let out a chuckle. “yeah, i can see you on a public bus very vividly.”

you don’t miss how his eyes narrow, his eyebrows knitting together as he glares at you for that response. he knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, he’s painfully aware of that. at eighteen he should be worrying about going to college or something, getting his driving license or other normal things teenagers worry about. 

“could always split it up though,” he offers, his eyes rolling the slightest bit as he adjusts himself. he slides a bit further– his shoulders now meet the floor. instead of looking at you, he traces imaginary shapes on the ceiling. “i could fly us part of the way and we hitchhike some of the way.”

“not hitchhiking,” you disagree almost instantaneously. your fingers find miscellaneous paper, fiddling with the corner as you swing back and forth in your office chair. “i’ve heard too many horror stories about that kind of shit.”

there’s a noise from the other side of the room. hawks slides the rest of the way off the couch, now moving onto his knees before righting himself– stopping once his eyes meet yours. “you act like i wouldn’t be there to protect you,” there’s a flash– almost as quick as his skills in the sky, he tries to cover it; but you see it. for just a moment, hawks lets keigo out, evident in his tone and vague possessiveness in his words. 

the corner of your mouth lifts, but it’s to alleviate tension. the small smile is not genuine and hawks can’t tell if it hurts more than it pisses him off. 

the next time running away is brought up, it’s not by his mouth. it’s by yours. 

you’re agitated. pissed off, pacing back and forth and walking with purpose towards his office like your life depends on it. you know he’s not on patrol at the moment– he’s been online posting so you know he’s in his office with his feet propped on his desk like he has nothing better to do. 

it’s not a thursday. he’s surprised to see you storm into his office, but he doesn’t comment on how hard you slam his door shut or how you look like you’re practically steaming. his feet merely drop from his desk to the floor and his eyebrow raises. he knows better than to open his mouth– something stupid would come out anyways. 

“let’s run away.” 

keigo reels back like he’s been slapped. he takes a good look at you– frazzled, eyes bloodshot from either stress crying or strained from overuse, hair mussed and not in the attractive way he’s come to find extremely endearing– he can’t tell if you’re of sound mind at the moment. but your voice– your tone– how you sound so sure of yourself, so firm and demanding–

it’s been years since he brought up the idea. the two of you were eighteen and fresh into the hero scene, keigo was a popular favorite and immediately in the top ten and since then he’s been steadily climbing through the ranks. you’ve been pushing the burning feeling of being left behind and stuck in his shadow to the back of your mind for a while now. 

“are you okay?” his tone is gentle, but it’s artificially sincere. you know this subject is a sore spot. there’s a reason it hasn’t been brought up since that day. it’s clear in the way his shoulders are tense, the muscles in his jaw taut and teetering over the edge of pulling the fight or flight card. 

there’s a distraught sigh that leaves your lips. “no, i’m not okay,” your tone is tight. your hands are clenched so hard that they ache and your knuckles are white. you’re pacing in short strides– back and forth, back and forth– your eyes wild as they pick out small objects on shelves. small objects. throwable objects. 

“we could hit the gym if you want–”

“i can’t fucking do this anymore, keigo!” 

you can feel the tears trailing down the apples of your cheeks and your tear ducts burn. the last thing your tear clouded vision sees is keigo surging towards you before your hands clap over your face, shielding your actively crumbling expression. 

“i’m stressed, there’s so much pressure,” you feel the sob rack through your body. “they want me on back to back patrols and then this mission in another city and then training the new hires at the agency–”

suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again. the way his hands cradle your jaw– bare fingertips because he knows how much you hate the fabric of his gloves against your skin– you didn’t even see him remove his gloves. the touch clearly rattles you, causing you to stiffen against his palms. 

keigo doesn’t allow you to move away. even as your hands slide down and off of your face, even as your forehead meets his own in such a tender form of comfort. suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again, out on the rooftop of the HPSC, comforting each other in the only way the two of you can when you’ve been abandoned by the people who had gifted you life. 

keigo’s nose bumps against your own, an intimate gesture that you’ve seen only reserved for yourself. the two of you had never talked about dating, or love or anything romantic revolving whatever kind of relationship you shared– you never had the time, nor the privilege to– but you knew what was there. he held you as if you were priceless, a treasure that he would fight tooth and nail before handing over. 

his lips part to speak, breath warm as it ghosted over your own; but the abruptness of his office door swinging open causes both of you to flinch and separate. it’s not like the two of you were doing anything lewd– but the wide eyed intern in the doorway couldn’t tell that. all she saw was the two of pull apart, a look of embarrassment and a flush on each of your faces before keigo clears his throat and addresses her. 

and as quickly as the moment is interrupted, it is forgotten. 

in the next years that follow, keigo rises to number two, you stay locked in the upper twenties of the rankings. the threat of a war sends your agency into a frenzy, more employees being sent out, more sidekicks on missions and more patrols passed around and shared. every hero is on high alert, not just yourself. 

you still catch glimpses of him, but its scarce. thursdays are practically empty now without the once welcomed noisy distractions in your office. your thursdays are now spent on patrol well into the night, stationed just on the outskirts of town where the league was spotted before. 

they never show up, you never get any action; but you don’t complain. it’s nice to have silence to yourself. 

this particular thursday, you catch a familiar flash of red and tan slip past your peripheral. whether he wanted you to catch him or not, you’ll never know. the surprise on his expression was hard to decipher once you finally did catch up to him. 

although you were elated to see him after so long, the first words out of your mouth were not praise nor sweet. “the fuck happened to your wings, keigo?”

you watch as his form pauses, stiffening at his given name before he turns– wide eyed and guilty– like you caught him doing something shady. and you hated how immediately your walls shot up, your muscles on guard and tense. this was keigo. he was not a threat. why was your body reacting the way it was?

“they’re fine, they just need some time to heal,” his voice is low– sheepish. the corner of his mouth lifts to create that boy-ish grin that wins screeches and squeals from crowds of women– but to you, it’s only manufactured. 

his hair, once long and shaggy with those few stupid curls that you always found annoyingly endearing; was now trimmed short and cropped closer to his head. it’s a jarring look, compared to how you’ve always known him– but you can’t help but think it looks better on him. 

the scar is also new. and granted, you’ve seen him on the news and during his press conference; you’ve seen his appearance change. 

but it’s earth-shattering, to say the least, to see it in the flesh. you want to reach out to the small appendages hanging from his back. to touch and feel them– see if they still react how they’ve always done to your touch and presence. 

keigo steps back from you, seeing your outstretched hand. the motion causes your hand to drop slowly, a ringing can be heard in the outer part of your ears. “what are you doing out here?” 

he knows what you mean. and yet he deflects it, “patrolling. our routes overlap, y’know?”

they don’t, and he knows that. you take a step towards him once again. “keigo.”

he takes another step back, forcing you into some kind of twisted dance. “[y/n].”

you hate being held at arms length. you can clearly tell he’s lying, hiding something from you. and granted, the two of you haven’t really been around each other the past couple years, but you grew up with him. this is your best friend, your first ally– the person you trust the most with the darkest parts of yourself. in some ways, you know you love him. of course you love him. you’re just not sure in what ways. 

“why are you being so weird?” the dance continues. you don’t miss how his jaw clenches when he realizes he’s got four more steps until you have him backed against the wall. he chews on the inside of his cheek– one of his tells you’ve been able to pick up over the many years of training and being around him– before he sidesteps and turns the tables. the edge of his blade rests carefully against your jaw for mere seconds before you take a shaky step backwards. 

with your back now facing the wall, keigo advances. his fingers flex around the handle of the blade and his steps are firm as they chase your own unsettled and rattled movements. “i’m not being weird,” he sounds like he’s forcing the words out. “stop itching for a fight, [y/n].”

your brows furrow with undiluted confusion. your body feels tense and rigid, uneasy with emotions that don’t connect coherently to thoughts. the complete flip of his mood and tone have you spiraling. you aren’t face to face with keigo anymore– this is a new side of hawks, one you haven’t had the ‘joy’ of meeting yet. 

“i’m not itching for a fight!” you hate how your voice trembles. like you’re scared. 

your back hits the wall and the tip of the crimson blade in his hand knicks your chin. there’s a dull stinging, but you can barely feel it over the roar in your eardrums. 

keigo is not normally an intimidating guy. yes, he can be, but you’ve rarely seen it or experienced it. and his little hawks persona is just the same as well— you’ve been on patrol with him before. you’ve seen him take down villains, you’ve seen him in training; you’ve seen every side of him. 

except this one. this intimidating, intense— frightening aura before you, you’re at a loss for words. 

“you’re pushing for information that doesn’t concern you,” keigo growls, his head dipping to meet your eyes. he holds a palm out—either to subtly pin you against the wall or grab at you if you choose to attack— you’re not sure. he adjusts his hold on the handle and fixes the tension in his jaw with a click. 

the both of you are close enough to share breaths, but far enough apart to know that there is something different between the two of you. you are no longer fourteen, eighteen, or fresh in your twenties. when you breathe in, keigo breathes out. 

your hand lifts, reaching forward— towards him— all the tension melts. instead of leaning into your touch like he would back then, his head surges forward and seizes your lips with his own. 

keigo had told you before that the freest he’s ever felt is in the skies. you’ve been flying with him before, you know exactly the type of exhilarating, adrenaline inducing emotion he’s talking about. with the lack of ground beneath you and the limitless sky above, keigo was exactly right. it was the closest thing to freedom he had. 

with his lips on yours, you feel like you are free falling, hurling towards the earth at untamable speeds and the impact into the dirt is the sensation of his mouth pulling away from yours. 

keigo might get a taste of freedom everyday, but it was nothing compared to the taste of freedom he had just given you. 

“i’m just scared,” he mumbles, his voice is small. he sounds so young, so impossibly childlike that you have to open your eyes a blink to make sure it was still him that was brushing against your lips with each breath and syllable. “i… i almost died. i got reckless and screwed everything up and—“ 

your hand moves to the back of his head— a twinge shoots through you when you remember the curls aren’t as long so you can’t hook your fingers through them— and your hand steadies at the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to rest against yours. “why didn’t you come find me?” 

it’s selfish of you to say that. it really is. but the two of you have been each other’s support systems since you were adolescents. 

keigo winces slightly at your statement. “i couldn’t face you like that, [y/n].” 

his blade is still against your jaw, cold and a firm reminder that you were supposed to be elsewhere. your eyes meet his, a silent exchange between the two of you. 

i’ve seen you look worse. 

you always have, haven’t you? 

the silence holds more words, but neither of you put the weight down. whether it be the risk and danger of speaking on it, or the action being a spur of the moment between two childhood friends trying to fit pieces in where they don’t quite fit yet. 

that night you get home from patrol and dream of the feeling of keigo’s lips. you wake up crying. 

you haven’t seen hawks face to face in years. when you finally do run into him at the office, both of you are visibly different from those early years at the commission. you’ve grown your hair out, he’s lost the plumage of red that used to hang behind him. you’re only passing through, grabbing paperwork for your own agency when the two of you stop dead in your tracks in front of each other. 

he’s only grown a couple inches, and he’s kept his hair short. the scar from the war has healed and faded into his skin, but the outline still shows. it makes him look more rugged, more defined. he had always argued with you that the facial hair he tried so desperately to grow did most of the work— the scar did it perfectly on its own. 

hawks is the first to speak. his eyes are shining in a way that’s hard to tell if he’s seconds away from bursting into tears or just looking at something brighter than the sun. “it’s been a while.” 

the inhale you take in is shorter than the exhale you push out. your smile is shaky, and your grip around the files in your hand tightens. “it’s been a while, yeah…” 

there’s a lot to be said. the two of you can’t continue to stare at each other with so much longing, so much emotion. 

there’s a stretch of silence, hawks shifts awkwardly. the katanas against his back slap against muscle and he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. he can tell time is running out, with the way that you shift the files against your waist and the impending footsteps of employees and commission workers down the hall. 

“you ever wish that we did it?” 

your tongue feels dry. “did what?” 

“run away,” hawks whispers. he chews on the inside of his cheek and it forces you to pause. “we should’ve done it.” 

your vision feels sluggish, dragging up from his lips, to his cheek where his tongue pokes at the inside; up to his eyes. 

you don’t know if you’ll get that taste of freedom only he could give you ever again. 

“we’re still here,” you murmur. your tongue presses in between your lips and you watch hawks physically hold himself back. i’m still here. you’re still here.

by now, the group from down the hall has caught up. your words are rushed as you force them off of your tongue; “do you want to—“ 

he’s swept up by the commission workers before he can hear the latter part of your statement. he reaches for you as he brushes past, bare fingertips against your wrist that send static throughout your skin. you squeeze him back in the half of a second he gives you and you can see the corner of his mouth lift as he’s ushered down the hall. 

freedom was always so close to you, you realize. in your case, it wasn’t a feeling or an action— but a person. 

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

As a window cleaner I just wanna say, in universe, all high rise window cleaners' favorite hero is Hawks hands down. Homie is just. Up there. Like you know he smiles and waves every time he flies by so now he's like a coworker. Yeah that's my buddy Hawks. Sometimes when we have pizza up here he'll grab a slice. He's cool.

Bakugo is perfect for cuddling. Why? Cause he’s big and he’s warm.

I don’t mean just big cause he’s tall, I mean muscle, he’s a pro-hero after all, he’s gotta stay fit. So it wasn’t unusual for you to see his biceps practically ripping every atom of his compression shirt when he’d go out to the gym.

Despite coming back all sweaty the first thing he likes to do is lay on you and now convince you his germs have passed onto you so he has an excuse to shower with you. From there you guys find your way to your shared bed and cuddle. His muscles caging you in, his large calloused hands wrapped around your figure, and he couldn’t be happier. He keeps you warm too, thanks to his quirk his body is always warm/hot. (Thanks to this he also usually walks around shirtless.)

So it’s not uncommon for him to place his hands under your shirt, resting them gently along your sides as he uses just the right amount of heat to warm up his hands a bit. Usually he does it when you have cramps, he’ll have you lay your back to his chest and keep his hands on your lower abdomen while you rest. Such a good boyfriend.

“Cmere”

There’s no point in him saying that when he’s already got you thrown over his shoulder, taking you off the couch as if you weren’t peacefully reading.

“Kats-“ you can’t help but giggle, seeing he’s in one of his lovesick moods.

He gently places you on the bed before climbing on top of you, his head resting on your chest gently as you find your hand in his.

You smile seeing him find relaxation in your touch.

“I love you katsuki.”

His hand warms up a bit and you can see his ears turn a little pink.

—

“I love you too.”

Was re watching beastars and had a vision...

Horikoshi had to kill Sir Nighteye bc he knew Leiko was going to start a polycule if they ever interacted

They make me feel so single.

it's not what it seems! // smau

when your roommate has a guest over

izuku midoriya, shinsou hitoshi, sero hanta

Luci interacting with the other sins.

‘Haven’t posted art in a while so have this old thing from my files

More Than A Favor

Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, Breeding, Awkward Sexual Situations, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Humor

WC: 5.6K

a/n: This is a reupload too. But I wanted to get it out because i started thinking about the moment these two are waiting for the positive pregnancy test. Also my b, this reader is so heavily marq coded all the way down to the way she speaks im so sorry bahahah. BUT this started off as a comfort fic so.... that's why it's like this. sorry.

“I just need you to spurt in my pussy so I can have a baby! Easy peasy!” 

You’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment building with Katsuki and he can’t believe his ears right now. Of all the years of being your best friend and listening to the wild shit that comes out of your mouth, you’d think he’d be immune to the surprise. But like always you’re always keeping him on his toes.

Still though, this “favor” might prove to be a little too much even for him. You know he’d do anything for you, the same way you’d do anything for him. You’ve been the one constant over the last few years too. Stuck by him when he was an asshole, when he wasn’t an asshole, when he ghosted that girl he was dating, even bailed him out when he got arrested for breaking the stupid paparazzi's camera.

He grimaces and wrinkles his nose in disgust, “Ugh, dont fucking say it like that!” 

You laugh boisterously, your dimples sinking into your cheeks as you beam at him, “How else do you want me to say it? Is that not what would be happening?” 

“Yeah but do you gotta use the word spurt? It’s…” he hesitates. 

“Fine. Would you rather me say ‘Katsuki will you please ejaculate all the sperm saved up in your testicles into my vagina so that you can fertilize the egg in my uterus?’” 

“You’re a fucking nightmare ya know that?” 

How long has Katsuki been in love with you? He actually can’t pinpoint it. In fact, he may only be realizing it now as the thought of you wobbling around pregnant with his kid fills his mind and makes him look like one of those sappy in love guys in the romance manga he reads. 

“So is that a yes?” 

He shoots you his signature “I’m bein’ serious” face and you laugh again, filling the room with your joy.

“Oh come on Katsuki. Look I promise, you won't have to do a thing after I get pregnant. I won't ask you for any help or child support or whatever. The kid doesn't even have to know you’re their real dad,” you say now looking serious as you explain.

That gives him pause. Are you saying this because you don’t want to be with him? He wouldn’t force himself in the kids life if he agreed to do this, not if you didn't want him around. That desperation in your eyes though. Why don’t you get it? If you asked him to catapult himself to the moon, he’d fucking do it. 

“I know you’re focused on getting to number one and you're super close and…Katsu I hope you know I would never do anything to get in the way of that but…my window is closing real soon. And I have the opportunity now and obviously I am painfully single right now so…”

Oh. You think he doesn’t want this. You think you’re burdening him. Damn…all this time he’s known you were clueless but for the love of shit you can’t be this clueless. Katsuki hasn’t had a date in…two years? Yeah that’s it. And in those two years he's spent almost every day with you, hangin’ out, goin’ on trips, watching movies, doing mundane life shit. Hell in his mind, the two of you are practically married already. 

But it’s clear you don’t think the same. Maybe you don’t see him that way? Which means… this entire thing could get real real messy. 

Katsuki squints, “You’re serious? Like you're sure you want this?” 

“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.” 

He knows that’s the truth. It’s all you ever talk about when you both talk about your goals and dreams. He wants to be number one and you wanna be a mom. But still the question remains, would you wanna be a mom to his kid? 

“And you’re sure you wanna do this…with me?” he asks again.

You shrug nonchalantly, “Why not? You’re my best friend. I trust you with my life. This is just as precious.” 

Goddamn you saying sentimental shit like that so nonchalantly. It’s like your fucking superpower. 

“Yeah but what if…shit gets weird after,” he stammers, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why would it get weird?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Cuz…yannow how weird it gets when two friends start fucking. Look at Sparky and Hanta. It’s been off since they hooked up last month at Mina’s party,” he explains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Well I don’t know how you do it, but I wouldn’t consider you jacking it into my pussy would qualify as us ‘fucking’”, you say curling your nose up in judgement.

“I'm bein’ serious,” he retorts, bumping your forehead lightly with his palm.

“So am I! Look we’ve been through…so much shit together. My mom’s death, All Might’s death, the hero charts, breakdowns during the middle of the night while I try to get my degree, the very very bad break up with the one we do not speak about…none of that got the better of us so I don't see why this would either.”

Katsuki looks away from you now, Eyes dropping to the floor. He almost chokes when your tiny hand curls around his chin lightly and makes him look back at you. You’re wearing that expression again, the “you’re the only one in my universe” expression he’s seen you use as a weapon to bartenders to get you both free booze. 

But this time, there’s no tricks.  

This time, you mean it. 

“Hey, I mean it. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna lose anyone else so if you’re completely against it, tell me and I’ll drop it right now,” you assert.

Katsuki sighs and plops a hand on top of your head, rubbing gently to make sure he doesn’t mess up your hair. 

“Gimme some time to think about it alright? It doesn't mean No. It means I gotta…prepare…I guess.”

Your smile returns, along with your irresistible ass dimples. “That’s totally fine! I won't start ovulating until next month anyway so take all the time you need!” you chirp. 

You both continue down the hallway, your apartments located toward the end of the hall. When you reach his door, you pause before heading a bit farther down the way to your place.

“Hey Katsu?” 

“What now?” Katsuki asks exasperated as he pulls out his key. 

When he turns to look at you, you’re staring at him with the big wide serious eye again. You look a little nervous, anxious as you twiddle your fingers in front of you. Geez, he’ll never get over how fucking pretty you are. 

“Thank you. Even if you refuse, thank you, for at least considering it,” you say bowing graciously to him.

His heart thumps in his chest but he shakes it off quickly and bumps your forehead again playfully. “Tsk, dumb ass. You act like I don’t always consider the crazy shit you come up with.” 

The playful jab soothes you again, and just like before the anxiety melts away into glee. 

“Crazy shit?!? Admit it, I make your life fun and exciting. If it weren't for me you’d be at home watching “How It’s Made” videos on Youtube,” you say sticking your tongue out at him as you brush past onward to your apartment.

“Fuck you! That shit is interesting I don't care what you say,” he calls after you as you laugh and skip away. 

 Katsuki watches your swaying hips as you go. He’s definitely got a lot of shit to think about tonight. 

Never have you ever found a ceiling more interesting than right now. 

Ok, it’s not all that interesting but you are surely going to act like it is. Refusing to look Katsuki in the eyes as you lie on your back in his dark ass bedroom, legs spread with the string of your underwear cutting into your plush soft waist is by far the only way to keep this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it already is. 

You suppose the best part of looking at the ceiling is that it’s not your own. You're at Katsuki’s apartment and of all the times you’ve been here, all the nights you’ve spent here you’ve never looked at his ceiling. Your mind wanders as the sound of fabric shifting idly becomes the background noise in your mind. 

“The ceiling that interestin’?” A gruff voice says from the end of the bed. 

God it’s like he’s in your head, which again shouldn’t be a surprise. There’s literally no other person in existence who knows the way your mind works better than Katsuki. He is your best friend after all. 

Your eyes shift to him and immediately you find it to be a mistake. He’s shirtless, the black sweatpants he wears are low on his hips and goddamn…have you really never noticed how tiny his waist is compared to his broad ass shoulders? And… has he always been like… that fit? 

No. Bad. Stop that. That is not where this is supposed to be going. This is a business deal between friends. Nothing more. 

In a desperate attempt to keep the mood humorous, you scoff. 

“Actually ceilings are really sexy so I’m trying to concentrate and get in the mood and you’re ruining it,” you reply, letting your eyes reluctantly fall away from him and return to the ceiling. 

You can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes, “Let’s just hurry and get this shit over with. Sooner we do it, sooner this stops being weird,” he huffs, moving closer to the edge of the bed. 

His anxious tone should make you feel bad but strangely, it’s comforting. It’s good to know you’re both feeling the same way. 

This is a big thing you’re asking of him, and you know he’s been on the fence about it since you asked. Honestly, you expected him to say no. But when he’d accepted a few days ago, you’d tried to ignore the way his reply of “When have I ever been able to say no to you,” made your stomach do flips. 

“Thanks again Katsu. For agreeing to this. I’ll probably spend the rest of my life paying you back for it,” you say gently, still avoiding looking at him. 

He huffs again, but you hear the hesitation, the hitch in his breath at your soft confession. He taps your knee and waits for you to give him your attention again. 

Again it’s a mistake, looking at him, because his expression is soft and tender it makes your lips part in a gasp. 

“Pay it back by bein’ a good mom to the kid,” he mutters quietly. 

The searing touch of his hand on your knee makes you swallow a lump in your throat. Something about Katsuki referring to you as a mom makes a bubble of emotion rush its way to your tear ducts but you bite back the sob with a smile. 

“I promise.”

“Alright, I’m comin’ to ya. Ya ready?” he asks and slowly you nod. 

With a low groan, Katsuki crawls on the bed between your legs, nudging them more apart so he can fit comfortably between them. With his body hovering over yours it makes this feel more real. 

You are about to do this. You are about to be impregnated by your best friend. 

Katsuki was nice enough to let you change into a shirt of his that’s way bigger on you than a regular shirt. It drapes down over your ass and covers your panties. But while lying on your back  with your legs spread and him between them you can’t help but feel more vulnerable than if you were wearing your own clothes. He’d said it would help you feel “less exposed” but in the back of your mind you wonder if he gets off on seeing girls in his shirt before he fucks them. 

That is another forbidden thought you shouldn’t have. You’re not like the other girls he fucks because he is not “fucking” you. He’s going to jack himself until he gets right to the cusp of orgasm and then insert himself to finish inside you. 

It’s hardly sex. More like… helpful masturbation at this point but still…him being inside you… that’s…something different. 

“Alright uhh… if you’re ready I’m gonna… take it out now,” he stammers nervously,as he stares into your eyes. 

Your eyes flick down to his groin and then back up to his eyes. Another desperate attempt to lighten the mood falls from your lips. 

“With your pants still on? Like this is a quickie?” you say in mock shock. 

Katsuki growls in frustration. His brows pull together and he pouts his lips.  

“I’m doin’ it for you! Plus I thought it’d be weird if I was butt ass naked jacking my dick over your fully clothed body so shut it!” 

You shake your head in defiance, “Hold on now! First of all, I’m not fully clothed. Second, I told you to do whatever you need to be the most comfortable. That’s why we’re at your place, Katsu. So if ya need to take our pants off, just take ‘em off for christ sake!” you glare back at him trying  not to smile. 

It’s your typical banter with him. He tries to make you comfortable. You yell at him and tell him to worry about himself. Nice to see you two can still fall back into the groove of friendship. Which is why you know after this, the two of you will be ok. 

“Fine! I’ll take em off then! But you gotta take your stupid panties off too. If it’s about my comfort, pullin’ em to the side is annoying as shit,” he yells, moving off the bed to slip his pants down his legs. 

You notice, he’s not wearing underwear and as you lift up to slip your own underwear down your thighs and ball them up to place next to your head, you avert your eyes from Katsuki’s –admittedly impressive–cock. 

When you both are back into position–you on your back with the shirt pulled over your but pussy out and Katsuki leaning back on his thighs with a pillow over his junk–you’re both breathing heavily. His skin is hot against yours as his thighs brush against your inner thigh. You stop the tremble that starts up your spine and try to focus on the ceiling again as Katsuki’s hand moves between his own legs.  

You hear him clear his throat, and say “I’m startin’ now,” and then inhale as his hand wraps around his cock. He closes his eyes, which you appreciate. It means you can look around if you want to and in a second of courage you take the chance to observe his technique. 

Ok so yeah… Katsuki is fucking hung. Not a fact you thought you’d ever know about him. It’s not like the two of you don’t swap sex stories but he’s never gone into detail. He’s hot, you know that and so does he, but you never thought his dick could be another reason why it’s so easy for him to get laid when he wants. 

His waist is enviable and his abs ripple down his torso. He’s got a happy trail of brown hair that gradually grows into a bush of blond coily hair. With his eyes closed you’re also able to get a good look at his dick. Katsuki’s got massive hands and it still looks like he’s having trouble getting his entire palm around the girth of it. It makes your mouth water–although it shouldn’t. 

And naughtily you believe his may be the thickest cock you’ve ever taken.  

“Uhh…” he pauses, his eyes are open and yours quickly flit away from his cock and up to his eyes. He looks worried which is good because it means he didn’t catch you looking at him. 

“What?” you ask breathlessly. 

He raises an eyebrow and then both brows furrow again and the hand that’s not on his cock drums against his thigh nervously. “You’re breathing is all weird and shit, you—“ 

“Just hurry up and jack it Katsuki,” you interrupt, wanting to divert the attention away from your dumb ass horny inappropriate thoughts about your best friend. 

He smirks as if he knows what you’re doing but only jokes and says “Heh, never thought I'd hear that said to me before.”

“Oh my god, would you just–” You don’t finish because he tips a bit off balance while he’s sitting back on his knees and balancing on his thighs and feet. When he rocks off balance, he grabs your thigh to steady himself and the action makes you gasp in delight. 

The moan that would come after is thankfully trapped in your throat by a wall of disintegrating control. As if he didn’t hear it at all, Katsuki steadies himself, mutters an apology and gets back to it. 

As his hand moves slowly up and down his shaft, you notice it stays a bit boneless in his palm. His eyes are closed again, his face is craned up to the ceiling and his body is shaking as he furiously keeps stroking to get himself there. After about three minutes you cover your eyes and grab his wrist to stop him. 

“Are you…like…okay?” you ask, shielding your eyes to respect his privacy. 

Katsuki groans, “It's harder than it looks!” he spits in annoyance. 

In an attempt to quickly soothe him you put both hands up in surrender and forget the reason you were shielding your eyes in the first place . 

“Hey I’m not saying it’s not! I get it alright I just…” your words trickle off as you stare at him again, propped up on your elbows. 

This time he doesn’t cover himself which is odd. And what’s even odder is you don’t shield your eyes again. He’s got that “I’ve got an idea” look but it’s paired with a guilt only you’re able to recognize. 

“Do you want me to help?” you ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki’s eyes widen, his cheeks blush red and you can tell for a split second he contemplates saying yes before he sputters out  “…No! I don't need any damn help.” 

You smirk, “You hesitated.” 

He shakes his head roughly, the spiky hair on top of his head shaking like leaves on a tree caught in a storm. “No no just shut the fuck up and let me focus. And cover your eyes back up.” 

“I could…take the shirt off or something if that will help?” you suggest. 

This time he does visibly hesitate and think about your suggestion. He probably thinks since you brought it up, it’s more acceptable to agree. 

Plus…you know your strengths and your rack is definitely one of them.  

Finally he relents, “…fine.” 

The shirt is off and over your head in seconds, leaving you Winnie the Pooh-ing it in a black bra.. He looks away, trying not to look at your pussy but you notice the quick glances and the way his dick twitches at the sight even more. This time, you cover your eyes, electing to give Katsuki a chance to look at you and get himself going.

As it turns out, not being able to see him but being able to hear him proves to be even more sexually stimulating. Katsuki’s hand sounds wetter now, making lewd noises as his hand rubs up and down his dick. His breathing is different too, it’s heavier, littered with more sharp inhales and hissing. You even think you hear him mutter to himself. 

You lick your lips, is the difference just because he can see your tits now? Or maybe he’s not even looking at your tits. You are pussy out right now. Maybe he’s looking at your cunt. Maybe he’s fantasizing about when he will get to put it i–

“Look I uhh… I hate ta ask but can I uhh…” his voice pulls you out of the spiral of thoughts plaguing you. 

You peek at him through a sliver between your fingers, “Can you what?” you inquire.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly, the blush spreading over his cheeks again. 

You’re a little confused. Why wouldn’t he touch you? How does he expect to like… do the whole “impregnate” thing without touching you. You’re sure you already gave him the consent. But as you watch him nibble on the dead skin of his bottom lip and his eyes flit to the sheets and sneak glances at your tits, you understand what he means. 

“Oh! Ohhh. Umm yeah…yeah whatever helps,” you say brightly, trying to encourage him you’re ok with it. 

“I'll stop as soon as you say,” he relents. 

“Ok.” 

His hand hovers nervously over your tit, he flexes his fingers as he readies himself. You become hyper aware of your budding nipples in the chilly air of the apartment. They poke through the fabric of your bra and you’ll admit you want him to just get it over with and grab it already. 

When he does, his hand is so warm it shocks you and you intake a sharp inhale. Immediately, he tears his hand away

“What?! What did I hurt ya or—“ His eyes are wide and he almost leaps off the bed in worry. 

You shake your head, “No no! I just…nothing, it's fine. Just keep going,”you assure him. 

How the hell do you tell him it felt way too good for your best friend to grab your tits? You won’t. That’s a dirty little secret you’ll keep to yourself. But when he goes to grab them both and massages them deeply you realize your body might be more of a tell than you thought. 

There’s a moan yo-yoing in your throat. A fierce visceral moan that begs to be released, especially when Katsuki hums and starts to stroke himself again. Setting a nice pace of grinding his fingers into the plump flesh of your tits, flicking your nipple to elicit light gasps from you, and stroking his now noticeably pre-glistened cock, you try your best not to let a peep come from you. 

The last thing he needs is to feel even more awkward after having to ask to touch your boobs for help in getting it up. It worked though. He’s definitely up. And damn… was it always that mouth watering to look at when you first saw it? 

No…mouth-watering is not the best word to describe your best friend’s cock if you’re trying to avoid catching any complicated feelings. Which you are so you whisper a silent scold to your brain to get it together. 

Katsuki’s hands on you make it so very difficult to keep up this ruse of not being completely and totally turned on. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth and your fingers are digging into the mattress at your sides. 

You think he’s caught on to your act when he stops again.  

“Alright what’s the deal? What's with the face and the noises?” he growls. 

You shake your head, “Just keep going! It's fine!” 

To your dismay he doesn’t budge, “It don't look fine ta me!”

God, why can’t he just take the hint and keep going! 

“I'm just trying not to make this all awkward ok?!?

“It’s already awkward!” he insists.

“Yeah well I'm trying not to make it even more awkward! Like you're doing now! Maybe that should be your quirk, the ability to make something awkward even more awkward.” 

“Shut up! Look you can't not tell me what's going on with ya. You need ta talk to me if we’re doin’ this. I can't tell if you’re uncomfortable or whatever if you don't say someth—

You can’t believe this is happening right now.  Katsuki is literally sitting with his dick out arguing with you. God do you really have to say it to him? 

“I'm not uncomfortable! I'm just trying not to moan Katsuki!” you shout at him, blowing an exasperated and embarrassed sigh that makes your lips push out in defeat.

He blinks and jolts back as if surprised. “What?” 

Defeated and now basking in the pure shame and guilt of the moment you groan, “You’re standing over me jacking your dick and fondling my tits! It’s…erotic. And this is not supposed to be an erotic encounter so for the love of pete just keep going so we can get this ov–” 

“Don’t…don’t be silent…” he says now with an expression that is dangerous. Very very dangerous because that is not the way you’d look at your best friend you’re only trying to impregnate as a favor. He’s looking at you like… like he wants you. 

Now it’s your turn to blink in confusion. “What?” 

Katsuki huffs, this entire ordeal finally getting to him, “Look you want me to fucking jack it, right? Listening to moans helps so…ya don't gotta be quiet.” 

He reaches out and lets a finger trace your nipple and you arch up into his touch and let out a breathless sigh that sounds like…heaven. He nods, muttering a sexy “mm hmm that’s it” to himself as your back straightens again. 

Oh fuck this is so much easier when you have the ok to let loose. When he touches you now all the hesitation is gone, between your legs slick dribbles from your cunt and as Katsuki’s pace on his cock quickens, your moans get louder.  

You don’t even have to tell him he can touch your bare chest, he just shuffles one of your straps down to expose your tit and palms it as he moans.  

“My hand cold?” He asks when you jolt at his touch.

“N…no…it’s…so warm…” you pant. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him not to stop. Not only are his hands warm, they’re surprisingly soft. A bit calloused from the hero work but soft as he handles your tits with care. 

He smirks, “Good.” 

Your sounds of pleasure fill the room now, mixed with the lewd wet noises of Katsuki’s hand on his cock, you’re sure it probably sound like you two actually are fucking. Especially when he leans over to gently blow on your nipple. The tip of his tongue flicks it for just a second, only giving himself a tiny sample of you without taking it too far. 

He knows you like it because your moans become gentle coaxes of his name, “Mmm…ah…I…umm Katsu…I Uhh…” 

His name tumbling from your lips seems to be the catalyst for release because his breath hitches again and he finally announces, “I’m getting close…I’m getting close I—I should put it in now.” 

He’s leaking from the tip of his cock and he has the goddamn nerve to rub the head through your folds and tap your clit before he lines himself up. He’s gotten too comfortable or maybe...he’s a little lost in the sauce right now. When you glance up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. 

In fact his stare is hot, piercing as he locks eyes with you. Your lips part again and he bites his own. Is it insane to think about kissing him right now? 

Slowly he enters you, pushing past that first ring of muscle in your pussy and fucking hell you were right about him being the thickest you’ve ever had. You feel yourself open up and part around him as he slides in. You’re so full you swear you can feel him in your stomach and it’s absolutely slutty of you to arch your back and dip your hips forward so he’s embedded even deeper. 

The best part though is watching him as he presses his hips forward. He throws his head back and groans loudly. And the sigh of pure contentment and pleasure that bubbles in his chest is to die for. It’s like…he’s been waiting years to feel this, instead of the frenzied horny dazed minutes of him fucking his own fist.

“Holy shit you’re tight. How come you feel so…oh fuck…” he moans wantonly, his question caught in his throat. His gravelly tone is littered with soft desperate little whimpers you're sure have never breached his lips before. 

Your legs are shaking. 

Unbelievable. 

He’s only just bottomed out, hasn’t moved an inch and your legs are fucking shaking. Every sensitive little nerve in your pussy is firing off messages of pleasure and ecstasy and completely tuned into the cock stuffed inside you right now. 

How can he feel this good? Is it just because of the meds that trigger your ovulation making you more sensitive? Somehow you don’t think that’s the case. There’s electricity shooting up all your limbs as Katsuki’s hands settle on the sides of your waist. Your lips tingle and you truly believe the only way to stop it is to have his lips on yours. He shifts a bit, leaning over you and trying to angle himself in a way that has your head spinning and your eyes fluttering like a slot machine. 

The tip of his cock brushes lightly against your cervix as if giving it a tiny gentle kiss as a warning for the load he will give you. The thought makes all your limbs tighten, makes a knot in your belly constrict and then snap loose as you clench around him and tumble off a cliff and into pure ecstasy. 

Your fingers dig into the sheets at your side, and like lightning he grabs your wrist and pulls them up above your head, intertwining his finger with yours. His body completely covers yours now as his breath washes over your face. He’s staring at you, watching your eyes flutter with a goofy grin and then…

“Oh…oh fuck Katsu—“ 

His lips crash into yours as you speak, his tongue invades, licking and twirling around yours as you hungrily taste him. The tingling in your lips only subsides when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles. You find your legs wrapping around his waist, his tiny enviable waist you’d admired only a few minutes ago, and nudge him forward with the heel of your foot. 

“Squeezin’ that tight I’m gonna fucking cu–” again he stops himself midsentence as his hips grind into you. He can’t bear to pull out to pound into you, obsessed with the way you’re wrapped around him. So he grinds against the soft warm walls of your cunt, letting you massage his cock before he cums with a roar followed by whispered sweet words in your ear. 

The only thing keeping you from passing out right now, is the occasional twitching of his cock as he fills you. It almost feels unstoppable, he’s growling, whimpering, moaning and mumbling like a drunk man as he kisses your shoulder and as you come down now from your orgasm you wrap your arms around his back and card your fingers through the undercut at the base of his neck. 

The two of you stay that way, wrapped up in each other for what seems like forever before he pulls back to look at you with an expression that makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. 

He’s smirking, giddy like a boy who’s just seen a titty for the first time. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know what he’s thinking. 

“Stop it,” you pout with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. 

Katsuki chuckles, the mischievous proud grin only growing wider. “Stop what?” he tries to ask innocently. 

You try to push him away a bit, putting your palms on his chest but of course he doesn’t budge. 

“Stop giving me the ‘I just made you cum’ face,” you retort. 

The grin widens even further, if you can believe it. 

He chuckles, “But I did, didn't I? And based on the way you're still shakin’ I’d bet I was a pretty good one.” Unbelievably he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. 

“Yeah well I made you cum too and you don't see me smirking.” 

“Maybe ya should.” 

“We should not be having this conversation while your dick is still in me twitching so just shut up and wait a few minutes before you pull out,” you grumble. 

In a slightly uncomfortable but tender moment, Katsuki lies his head on your chest and listens to your heart. He traces a series of moles down the valley of your cleavage absently. 

Your face heats and he laughs again. “So much for it not being weird,” you sigh. 

“Knew it would be,” he mutters.

“And you still agreed?” 

“Puffs, if you thought I was gonna pump a baby in ya and then leave ya to raise it without me, then maybe I should think about gettin’ a new best friend cuz my best friend woulda known I could never do some shit like that. Eijiro is in the running for your spot. He knew,” he explains.

That shouldn't make you emotional, deep down you knew he wouldn’t just abandon you. Especially if the kid is his but–

“But what about Number One and–” 

“Can’t I do both? You’re the one who made it an either or thing,” he says shrugging. 

“But do you even…like me…like that?” you ask, blushing again. Ridiculous, you sound like a middle schooler or something. 

“My dick is literally still in you right now and I just told you I’d raise a kid with you. How many other ways do I need to say it, idiot?” He replies incredulously. 

“I mean… An ‘I like you and wanna date you’ wouldn’t hurt,” you say sheepishly. 

Katsuki groans, “For the love of…” and then he takes your face between his fingers and makes you look into his eyes and replies,

 “I like you and I wanna start a damn family with you. There. That good enough?”

---

dividers: @/cafekitsune, @/strangergraphics