Ash☆ミ

20☁️ She/her/They🦭 Certified fanfic writer 03.28.2026🕊 Requests closed!♡

[ashthesalamipiece]

(*＾3＾)/～☆Introduction(*＾3＾)/～☆

welcome to my page! for all those that have been around for so long on my page and those that have recently started i figured I should do an introduction post so here's some stuff about me!♡

Masterlist♡

Rules♡

(*ゝω･*) My name's Eun-ji but I prefer the nickname Ash but you can call be both♡

(　・`ω・´)I am half korean and half norwegian♡

(　＾∀＾) I Loveeeee the colors, purple, grey blue, black and white

(　＾▽＾) I am 20 years old, born in 7th june in Norway

( *・ω・)ノ English is not my first language so apologies if I write something wrong or incorrect

(*´∇｀)ﾉ I often take breaks now due to poor mental health but I will inform you when I do!

(*^▽^)/★*☆♪ I write all kinds of stuff like fluff, smut etc but I have a line for what smut I will write and i dont want minors reading it so please check it out ☆here☆ but minors are allowed to read my fluff on this blog(^-^)/

(*^^*) I like kpop, pop, rock, etc

(*゜д゜*) I've struggled with self harm before and still struggle with anxiety. i may post about it too but i will always add a TW especially for the self harm, please don't be shy to ask about something or request something involving those themes my loves♡

( ・ε・)Feel free to ask questions in the inbox♡

( ´;ﾟ;∀;ﾟ;)I dont know what else to add to this introduction but if I recall something I want to write then i'II update this＼(^-^)／

Credits for dividers♡ @priestboy

[ashthesalamipiece]

what hair do i cut my hair to [check down]

number 1

number 2

number 3

number 4

number 5

Voting ended onJul 12

[ashthesalamipiece]

⋆｡°✩K. Bakugo |Focus Test|

⋆｡°✩Word Count: 850

⋆｡°✩Symmary: You and Bakugo are trying to watch a movie in your apartment when you get a mischevious idea: see if the explosive hero can actually stay focused while you stroke him the entire time, What turns out as a teasing bet quickly turns heated, messy and very very distracting

⋆. ̊°✩ Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content /smut (18+ only) Handjob, Oral sex (implied/receiving) Strong language and cursing (Bakugo typical) Teasing/ Ligt power play, Established relationship, Mild humiliation kink, Writing erros,

Request from anonymous and first on the list, only 26 more to go🥲

Enjoy♡

@pro-herokatsukispubies

The living room was dim, just the glow of the TV flickering across the couch where you and Bakugo were sprawled out. Some action flick neither of you had seen before played on the screen, explosions, car chases, the usual bullshit. Bakugo had one arm slung behind his head, the other resting heavy on your thigh, thumb absently rubbing circles through your shorts. His legs were kicked out, taking up most of the space like he owned it. Which, in this apartment, he basically did.

You were tucked against his side, head on his shoulder, but your mind had wandered off the plot ten minutes ago. Bakugo’s jaw was set, eyes locked on the screen like he was analyzing a damn strategy meeting. Typical. You shifted, letting your hand drift from his chest down toward his stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of his black tank top.

“Oi,” he grunted without looking at you. “Watch the movie.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “I am watching.”

“Bullshit. Your hand’s moving.”

You let your palm slide lower, brushing over the front of his sweatpants. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. Yet.

The idea hit you right then. You tilted your head up, lips brushing his ear. “Hey. Bet you can’t stay focused if I jerk you off right now.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost laughed. His crimson eyes narrowed, cheeks already flushing under the TV light. “The fuck? No. I’m not losing to some dumb game while this asshole’s blowing up a building.”

You sat up a little, hand still resting on him, feeling him twitch under the fabric. “Come on, it’s just a movie. You’re always bragging about how you can do anything under pressure. Prove it.”

He scoffed, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I don’t need to prove shit. Hands off, dumbass.”

But you didn’t move. Instead you palmed him firmer, rubbing slow through the sweats until he hissed through his teeth. “Scared you’ll pop off too fast and miss the big twist?”

His glare could’ve melted steel. “I ain’t scared. You’re just annoying as hell.”

You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Then let me. I’ll be nice and slow. You keep your eyes on the screen the whole time, and I’ll owe you whatever you want after.”

Bakugo’s jaw worked, staring hard at the TV like it was his lifeline. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, then finally growled, “Fine. But if you make me miss anything important, I’m pinning your ass down and edging you till you cry.”

“Deal,” you whispered, already slipping your hand into his waistband.

He was half-hard already, probably from the way you’d been teasing him earlier during dinner. Your fingers wrapped around him, warm and solid, and you gave one slow stroke from base to tip. Bakugo’s breath hitched, but his eyes stayed glued forward. The movie’s soundtrack thumped loud enough to cover the soft sound of your hand moving.

You worked him steadily, thumb swiping over the head each time you reached the top, spreading the bead of precum that leaked out. His hips jerked once before he forced them still, thighs tensing under your arm.

“Focus, baby,” you teased, voice low.

“Shut up,” he snapped, but it came out rougher than usual. His free hand fisted the couch cushion.

You picked up the pace just a little, twisting your wrist on the upstroke the way he liked. The movie cut to a chase scene, tires screeching, but Bakugo’s breathing was getting louder than the engines. You felt him throb in your grip, growing fully hard, veins pulsing against your palm.

“Eyes on the screen, Katsuki.”

“Don’t tell me what to—fuck.” His head tipped back for a second when you squeezed at the base, then he snapped it forward again, scowling like the movie had personally offended him.

You grinned and kept going, pumping him with smooth, deliberate strokes. His abs clenched visibly under the tank top. Sweat started beading on his temple. Every few seconds his hips would buck up into your fist before he caught himself and growled in frustration.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured, nipping at his neck.

“Fuck you,” he panted, but his voice cracked on the last word. The hand on your thigh dug in harder, fingers bruising.

On screen, the hero was monologuing about justice or whatever. Bakugo didn’t even blink. His cock was leaking steadily now, slicking your hand, making every glide filthy and smooth. You sped up, focusing on the head, and he let out a choked groan that he tried to turn into a cough.

“Shit—slow down, you brat.”

“No way. You’re supposed to be concentrating.”

He lasted another minute, chest heaving, before his control snapped. One second he was staring at the TV, the next his hand shot down, grabbing your wrist, not stopping you, just holding on like he needed something to ground him. His hips started thrusting up to meet your strokes, short and desperate.

“Goddamn it,” he snarled, eyes squeezing shut. “Can’t—fuck, can’t focus when you’re doing that shit.”

You didn’t stop. “Told you.”

Bakugo’s head dropped back against the couch, mouth open as he panted. “Yeah, yeah, you win. Just—don’t stop, fuck.”

You laughed softly and kissed his jaw, stroking faster now, using the precum to make it messy and perfect. His thighs shook. The movie kept playing, completely forgotten. He came hard a few moments later, groaning loud enough to drown out the explosions on screen, hips jerking as he spilled over your fist and onto his stomach.

You kept pumping him through it until he hissed and grabbed your wrist for real this time. “Enough, you sadist.”

He was breathing like he’d just finished a sparring match, chest rising and falling fast. You pulled your hand out and wiped it on his tank top without thinking. He cracked one eye open and glared.

“Asshole.”

You leaned over and kissed him properly, slow and deep. He kissed back like he was pissed about losing but still hungry for more, hand sliding up into your hair.

After a second he pulled back, smirking that sharp, dangerous smirk. “Movie’s still on. My turn to prove I can focus while I eat you out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You just came and you’re already—”

“Shut up and lose the shorts,” he growled, shoving you back onto the couch and yanking at your waistband. “I’m winning the next round.”

The movie played on in the background, completely ignored, as Bakugo slid down between your legs with that same competitive fire in his eyes. You had a feeling neither of you would remember how it ended.

©Ashthesalamipiece 2026. DO NOT TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USE MY WRITING FOR AI

[ashthesalamipiece]

Hey everyone! I won't post for a while because i have to begin to write my inbox asks, i have 27 asks and all of them are from this year all over to august 2025, its been over a year since somebody asked it and i have to begin writing them, finding and using pictures and dividers♡

[ashthesalamipiece]

⋆｡°✩ Strawberry Rescue |Bakugo Katsuki|

wc: 680

cw: Pregnancy, short, bratty !reader, hormones (crying, mood swings) Mild language/swearng, purely fluffy/domestic humour wit no explicit content, violence or heavy angst

A/n: this is inspired by a comment i saw on tiktok, also this fanfic is from the winner of this poll.

Enjoy my loves!

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket buzzed overhead like a swarm of irritated bees, casting a sterile glow over aisle after aisle of perfectly arranged produce. You waddled alongside the cart, stroller, Katsuki had grumbled when you insisted on calling it that because the baby bump made everything feel like a mobile nursery, your hands gripping the handle a little too tightly. The air smelled like overripe melons and floor cleaner, and your back ached in that deep, persistent way that no amount of prenatal yoga seemed to fix.

Katsuki walked a half-step ahead, his broad shoulders cutting through the sparse evening crowd like he was on patrol. His usual scowl was in place, but softer around the edges now, the way it got when he thought you weren’t looking. One hand hovered near your lower back without quite touching, ready to steady you if the waddle turned into a trip. He’d vetoed the baby clothes back at the entrance—“We’ve got enough tiny shit to clothe a whole damn nursery, woman. Focus on what the kid actually needs to eat”—and that had set the tone for the whole trip.

You were already simmering. The doctor’s voice echoed in your head: more fruits, more vegetables, leafy greens, balanced meals. No more late-night convenience store runs for whatever looked vaguely edible. Healthy. Boring. Your hormones were throwing a full-on rave in your system, flipping between irritation and an overwhelming wave of sentimentality that made zero sense.

“Stop glaring at the carrots,” Katsuki muttered, tossing a bag of spinach into the cart without looking. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

“They’re too green,” you shot back, aware of how ridiculous it sounded even as the words left your mouth. “Everything in here is too green. Or too orange. Or too… whatever. I just wanted the little dinosaur onesie with the spikes. It was cute, Katsuki. The baby would’ve loved it.”

He snorted, grabbing a bunch of bananas. “The baby can’t even see colors yet. And we don’t need more clothes. Kid’s gonna outgrow ‘em before it wears half the crap we already bought.

You huffed, pushing the cart a little harder than necessary. The wheels squeaked in protest. Part of you knew he was right practical, annoyingly responsible Katsuki, but the other part, the one currently riding a hormone tsunami, wanted to buy the entire baby section and name every onesie after explosion-themed puns.

The fruit aisle stretched out ahead, neat pyramids of apples and oranges glowing under the lights. You steered toward the berries, resigning yourself to the healthy mandate. Strawberries, blueberries, maybe some kiwi if it didn’t look too fuzzy and suspicious. Katsuki scanned the displays with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb, picking up a pint of blueberries and giving them a suspicious sniff before dropping them in.

Then you saw it.

Nestled among the bananas, half-hidden behind a curved yellow bunch like it had wandered off course and given up, sat a single strawberry. Bright red, perfectly shaped, completely alone. No siblings. No little green leafy family. Just… there. Abandoned.

Your throat tightened instantly. Tears welled up hot and fast, spilling over before you could even process why. A full, ugly sob ripped out of you, loud enough that a nearby shopper turned with wide eyes.

“It’s— it’s lonely,” you choked out, one hand pressed to your mouth as the other pointed accusingly at the rogue fruit. “Look at it, Katsuki. It got lost. The other strawberries are probably in their little box somewhere, wondering where it went, and it’s just… sitting there. By the bananas. That’s not its home!”

Katsuki froze mid-reach for a mango, his crimson eyes flicking from you to the strawberry and back. For a split second, you saw the exact moment his brain short-circuited part exasperation, part that fierce protectiveness that made him terrifying in fights and secretly devastating in moments like this.

“Oi, oi, don’t— shit, stop crying like that,” he growled, but there was no real heat in it. He stepped closer, one hand awkwardly patting your shoulder while the other snatched the lone strawberry from the banana display. He held it up like evidence in a trial, examining it with a critical frown.

You kept sobbing, hormones fully in the driver’s seat now. “It doesn’t have anyone. What if it’s scared? What if the bananas are mean to it?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He glanced around quickly no one was filming, thank god, then did the most Katsuki thing possible. He brought the strawberry to his lips and planted a quick, firm kiss on its stupid little top. “There. Happy now? It’s not lonely anymore. I kissed the damn thing.”

You blinked through the tears, a watery laugh bubbling up despite everything. He looked so serious, holding that single berry like it was a precious explosive charge.

Before you could say anything else, he dropped the kissed strawberry gently into the cart, right on top of the spinach and reached for the nearest full box of strawberries. A big one. He dumped it in without ceremony, then grabbed another for good measure, stacking them like he was fortifying a position.

“You don’t even like strawberries,” he said gruffly, not meeting your eyes as he adjusted the pile. “Always bitching about the seeds getting stuck in your teeth. But fine. We’re taking the whole fucking family. No more crying over produce. People are staring.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, his hoodie, actually, stretched tight over your bump and felt the ridiculousness of the moment hit you. The tears slowed, replaced by shaky giggles that made your belly jiggle. “I really don’t like them,” you admitted, sniffling. “But now I feel bad if we leave any behind.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re pregnant, you know that?” But his hand finally settled on your lower back, warm and steady, rubbing a small circle there. “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of the boring shit before you start adopting the eggplants or whatever.”

You leaned into him as you pushed the cart forward, the two full boxes of strawberries riding proudly atop the greens like a victory flag. The lone one sat nestled safely among them now, no longer lost. Your mood lifted in that weird, mercurial way it did these days, irritation fading into a warm, stupid fondness.

Later, as you waited in the checkout line, Katsuki snuck a hand over to rest on your bump. The baby kicked once, hard, and he smirked like he’d won an argument with it.

“See?” he muttered. “Even the brat agrees. No more clothes. More fruit. And if you cry over another misplaced vegetable, I’m carrying you out of here myself.”

You smiled, poking his side. “Promise?”

He clicked his tongue, but the tips of his ears were pink. “Tch. Yeah, whatever. Just… don’t tell the extras about the strawberry kiss. I got a reputation.”

You wouldn’t. But you’d remember it, the big, scary explosion hero kissing produce to stop his pregnant wife’s meltdown. Perfectly Katsuki. Perfectly yours.

©Ashthesalamipiece 2026. DO NOT TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USE MY WRITING FOR AI WITHOUT PERMISSION

[ashthesalamipiece]

who will the next fanfic be about🤔

aizawa

denki

bakugo

Kirishima

sero

izuku

anyone else you request

Voting ended onJun 22

[ashthesalamipiece]

⋆｡°✩ Late Night Queries |Katsuki Bakugo|

Synopsis: After a long day of hero work,Bakugo returns home to discover the tender, chaotic evidence of your new shared reality. Pregnancy research left open on the screen. In the quiet hours, he finds his own way to unwind with the woman carrying his future

cw:Pregnancy, mild language, domestic fluff

wc: 1,85k

The apartment was dim when Katsuki pushed the door open, the only light spilling from the living room where you’d left the computer on. His boots thudded heavily against the entryway floor before he kicked them off, the reinforced soles clunking against the wall. Patrol had dragged longer than expected, some minor villain skirmish that required more cleanup than actual fighting but the weight of his gauntlets and the familiar ache in his shoulders reminded him he was finally home.

He shrugged off his hero jacket, hanging it on the hook beside yours. The fabric still carried the faint scent of smoke and nitroglycerin. The place smelled like home otherwise: the faint citrus of the dish soap you preferred, the lingering warmth of dinner you must have made earlier. His stomach rumbled, but food could wait. Right now, he wanted to see you.

Instead, his gaze landed on the glowing screen.

You’d fallen asleep with half a dozen tabs open, the browser history a winding trail of curiosity that pulled a low snort from his chest. He dropped into the chair, the wheels creaking under his weight, and leaned forward. The mouse hovered for a second before he started scrolling.

“Does pregnant women’s pee become poisonous?”

He barked out a short laugh, the sound rough but genuine, echoing softly in the empty room. His scarred fingers scrolled further.

“Can pregnant women drive?”

“Is it safe to eat spicy food while pregnant?”

“What if the baby kicks too hard?”

Each new question painted a clearer picture of you earlier that evening, curled up on this same chair, eyes wide with that mix of wonder and mild panic you’d been carrying since the test turned positive two weeks ago. The doctor’s appointment had confirmed it, solid and real, but you were still in that stage where every tiny detail felt monumental. He could almost see the way your brow would furrow, the little hum you made when something worried you.

Katsuki leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Dumbass,” he muttered fondly, though there was no heat in it. He kept reading, the blue light washing over his sharp features. Another chuckle escaped when he hit “Can I still take hot baths?” followed immediately by three different medical sites debating the exact temperature thresholds.

He didn’t rush. The quiet gave him space to process it all again, the fact that there was a kid in there now. His kid. Yours. The thought still hit him square in the chest sometimes, a strange blend of pride and terror that made his palms spark faintly before he reined it in. You’d been nesting already, rearranging pillows and reading baby books like they held the secrets of the universe. He’d teased you for it, but secretly he’d started looking at cribs online during breaks.

One more tab: “When does the nausea stop?” He shook his head, the smirk softening into something gentler. You’d been tough about the morning sickness, never complaining much, but he’d caught you grimacing more than once. He made a mental note to pick up those ginger candies you liked on his next day off.

Eventually the screen dimmed from inactivity. Katsuki closed the tabs one by one, leaving the computer in sleep mode. The apartment settled back into proper quiet, broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant city sounds filtering through the windows. He stood, stretching his arms overhead until his spine popped, then padded down the short hallway toward the bedroom.

The door was ajar. Soft breathing greeted him as he stepped inside.

You were curled on your side under the covers, one hand resting loosely near your stomach even in sleep. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, catching on your hair and the peaceful line of your cheek. Katsuki paused in the doorway, just watching. The usual fire in his chest banked down to a steady warmth. This, coming home to you was the part of the day that made everything else worth it.

He moved quietly, mindful not to wake you. The hero gear came off piece by piece: the belt with its support straps, the reinforced pants, the compression shirt that clung to the hard lines of his torso. He tossed them into the laundry hamper with practiced ease, leaving him in just his boxers. The cool air of the room brushed against his skin, raising faint goosebumps along his arms. Scars from years of hero work stood out under the low light, marks he wore like badges, each one a story you’d traced with gentle fingers more than once.

Katsuki rounded the bed and eased down onto the mattress. It dipped under his weight, but you only shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before leaning in. His lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. You smelled like the herbal shampoo you’d switched to recently, something mild and soothing. The faint warmth of your skin grounded him.

“Oi,” he whispered against your temple, voice barely audible. “You’re gonna drive yourself nuts with that crap. We’ve got this.”

You didn’t stir, lost in whatever dream currently held you. He smiled faintly, rare, unguarded and settled in beside you. One arm slid carefully around your waist, palm coming to rest over the still-flat plane of your belly. Not much to feel yet, but he imagined the day when there would be. The thought made something in him twist pleasantly.

With his free hand, he reached for the lamp on the nightstand. The click of the switch plunged the room into full darkness, save for the faint city glow beyond the curtains. Katsuki exhaled slowly, body relaxing into the familiar contours of the bed and the even more familiar warmth of you beside him.

Tomorrow there would be more questions, more research, maybe another appointment. He’d grumble and tease, but he’d be there for every single one. For now, though, the night wrapped around the two of you–soon to be three and the world outside could wait.

He closed his eyes, breath syncing with yours, and let sleep pull him under.

Taglist♡: @pro-herokatsukispubies

©Ashthesalamipiece 2026. DO NOT TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USE MY WRITING FOR AI WITHOUT PERMISSION

[theartofmadeline]

happy pride to the gay people in my computer <3

[ashthesalamipiece]

Happy pride<3

[ashthesalamipiece]

I JUST TURNED 20, IM TURNING INTO AN UNC

[ashthesalamipiece]

⋆｡°✩|"Pregnant Pause" – Katsuki Bakugo drabble|

– wc– 452

–Summary: A simple misunderstanding turns into the most embarrassing argument Bakugo’s ever had, and with pregnancy hormones involved, things spiral fast.

-cw: Warnings: Pregnancy, crackfic, humor, suggestive misunderstanding, Married Bakugo Katsuki, toilet humor, Mild arguing, Embarrassment, Domestic fluff Bakugo being loud, very short fic

The house was unusually peaceful with Mina at school. You waddled down the hallway, one hand cradling your massive belly, the other clutching a glass of water. The baby was pressing on your bladder again, but you figured you’d just use the guest bathroom since the main one was probably—

You pushed the door open without knocking.

There sat Bakugo on the toilet, sweatpants around his ankles, looking every bit the domestic hero on break. In his hands was the morning paper, folded open to the front page. A big, glossy photo of him dominated the spread, him in full hero gear, mid-explosion, looking stupidly hot and heroic. He was staring at it intently, brows furrowed in concentration.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god,” you blurted, face twisting in pure disgust. “Katsuki. Are you seriously sitting there... touching yourself... while staring at your own picture?!”

Bakugo’s head snapped up so fast you thought he’d get whiplash. His crimson eyes went wide, then narrowed in offended confusion. The paper crinkled in his grip.

“THE FUCK?! Woman, what the hell is wrong with your brain?!” he barked, voice echoing off the tiles. “I’m taking a shit! Reading the damn news! They’re doing a feature on last week’s raid and I wanted to see if they got my good side!”

You didn’t move, still standing there with your hand on the doorknob, belly protruding like a judgmental shield. “You were staring. Really hard. At yourself. On the toilet. With that focused face you only make when you’re—”

“Finishing a crap, not jerking off to my own face!” he growled, cheeks flushing red. He shook the newspaper at you like evidence in court. “It’s a good article, dumbass! They called me ‘Japan’s most volatile asset', which is accurate as hell. I wasn’t doing shit except pushing out last night’s dinner!”

You blinked, the disgust slowly melting into embarrassment as the smell finally hit you and confirmed his story. “...Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes so hard they might’ve exploded. “Now get out before I blast you and your perverted assumptions into next week. Pregnant or not, I got boundaries.”

You backed up, trying (and failing) to hide your grin. “Sorry, babe. The pregnancy hormones make me think weird stuff. Like... toilet vanity sessions.”

“Out!” he roared, but there was a twitch of a smirk on his face as he flipped the page. “And bring me more toilet paper when you’re done being grossed out by your own husband.”

You closed the door, laughing under your breath while rubbing your belly. “Your dad’s a hero even on the throne, kid.”

From inside, you heard him mutter, “ Fucking weird pregnancy brain...“

©Ashthesalamipiece 2026. DO NOT TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USE MY WRITING FOR AI WITHOUT PERMISSION

[ashthesalamipiece]

Uhmm, hi?🥹

Im so sorry for disappearing for almost a month but im finally back, it feels weird to log back into my account but i just want to share some news with you all since i've been pretty busy these past weeks.

My younger sister finally had her confirmation, if you don't know what that is it's a tradition in Norway, i don't know how to explain it but you can choose to it in a church or you can choose to be teached, i have no idea how to word it. After that you normally celebrate it afterwords in a house that you've rented, you eat food and dessert there and the one that got confirmated gets present, often alot of money, like ALOT

But yea other than that I've been incredibly busy with work, I work at a Cafe and on top of that is studying to become a nurse so I've had almost no free time. I'm also trying to get myself a own place to live so yea🥲

Now about my last post, I think I've finally made my right decision, I've been creative ever since I was young. I loved drawning, reading, doing activities and especially reading. I wanted to write myself, publish books and become famous so I began teaching myself. Writing has been a part of myself for so long so I'm not ready to let go of it yet

I have decided that I will continue writing, but not as frequent as before, it may go days, even weeks between when i post so please be aware of that, but i will still try to find time to post a little something something once in a while

Remember to drink water, eat well and have a good day

-Ashthesalamipiece<3

[ashthesalamipiece]

Hey guys, I'm sorry for not being active but I have something I want to say

As much as it hurts to say it, I might quit writing fanfiction.

I'm very sorry if this is very sudden but I feel like I just have to tell you guys why I haven't been active and posting.

These past days, I've been unwell, tired and constantly stressed. I really really love writing fanfiction, it's a part of my heart that I will forever cherish. I love decorating my fics, especially writing them but I just have lost the motivation to post and write. I don't have the best reason for my quitting but atleast I have something.

I started posting my first fanfics around April 2025 and ever since then my profile grew and grew and grew. I got thousands of likes and so many of you guys. To be exact 1,596. I'm forever grateful that I got to share this experience with you and have fun. I'm still very unsure about the future, if I will continue with the fanfics or just completly stop. If I do go with my choice, which is to stop then I hope we can meet in the future:) I really really love you guys and thank yu for bringing me so much joy and happiness. You are of course free to read my previous work♡

-Ashthesalamipiece<3

[ashthesalamipiece]

Dad!Bakugo cursing, kids walking in on parents kissing, mild kissing, not proofread, established relationship, parents au, fluff, humour, flirting, a few crude words, implied smut

Atleast 18+

The living room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV, some mindless late-night action movie droning on with explosions that ironically reminded you of your husband. The kids, three of them, all mini versions of Katsuki with varying degrees of explosive tempers were finally, blissfully asleep upstairs. After a day of chasing them around, cleaning up quirk accidents (thank god for reinforced walls), and refereeing who got the last All Might fruit snack, you and Bakugo had collapsed onto the massive couch like survivors of a war.

You were tucked into his side, legs draped over his lap, wearing one of his old tank tops that hung loose on you and a pair of comfy shorts. Bakugo had one arm slung around your shoulders, the other lazily holding the remote. His blond hair was messy from running his hands through it all day, and he smelled like that stupidly expensive cologne he pretended he didn’t care about mixed with the faint scent of nitroglycerin sweat from training earlier. Domestic bliss, hero edition.

“Oi, this movie’s shit,” he grumbled, but didn’t change the channel. His fingers traced idle circles on your shoulder, rough calluses scraping lightly against your skin in a way that always sent little sparks through you.

“Yeah, but the explosions are kinda hot,” you teased, poking his side. “Reminds me of someone.”

“Damn right it does. I’m way better than that extra on screen.” He smirked, that signature cocky grin flashing in the flickering light.

The movie continued, but your attention was fading. Bakugo’s hand started drifting. Slowly at first, from your shoulder down to your arm, then to your waist. You didn’t think much of it, until it kept going lower. And lower. His palm slid over your hip, fingers brushing the hem of your shorts, inching toward the inside of your thigh.

You shifted a little, raising an eyebrow. “Katsuki…”

He didn’t stop. His hand crept even further, fingertips teasing the edge of your shorts, dangerously close to slipping underneath. The man had the audacity to look completely innocent while doing it, eyes glued to the TV like he wasn’t about to start something right there on the couch.

Another inch. His fingers brushed against the fabric between your legs, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

You grabbed his wrist, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Stop trying to finger fuck me during the car chase scene, you horny gremlin.”

Bakugo froze for a split second, then burst out laughing, that deep, raspy bark of a laugh that always made your stomach flip. He turned his head to look at you, crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “The fuck? I was just... adjusting. Yeah. Adjusting my hand.”

“Adjusting my ass,” you shot back, still holding his wrist but not really pulling it away. “We’ve got three kids asleep upstairs and you’re trying to turn the living room into a battlefield.”

He grinned wider, unrepentant. “Battlefield? Tch. I’d win that one too.”

Before you could retort, he shifted, pulling you closer so you were practically straddling his lap. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles. Then he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly turned hungry. You melted into it, hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his black tank top.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your mouth, voice low and rough. “Been thinkin’ about this all damn day. Those brats finally out cold... somethin’ special tonight, baby.”

Another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue tracing your lower lip before slipping inside. You sighed into it, fingers threading through his spiky hair.

“Gonna take my time with you,” he continued between kisses, grinning so wide you could feel it. “Make you scream my name so loud the neighbors think it’s a villain attack.”

Kiss. “But quieter. Can’t wake the fuckass kids.”

Kiss. “Though... part of me wants to see if I can make you louder than my explosions.”

You laughed breathlessly, nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot.” He rolled his hips up slightly, letting you feel exactly how into this he was. His hands slid under your tank top, palms hot against your bare skin. “Missed this. Just you and me, no tiny terrorists interrupting—”

As if the universe itself was a troll with perfect timing, the sound of small footsteps padded down the stairs.

You both froze mid-kiss, lips still touching.

“...Mama?”

The voice was tiny, sleepy, and belonging to your youngest, four-year-old Kouta, the one who looked like a carbon copy of Bakugo but with your eyes and an unfortunate habit of sleepwalking into awkward situations.

Bakugo’s eyes widened comically, his grin vanishing into a look of pure “oh shit” horror. You scrambled off his lap so fast you nearly face-planted, yanking your tank top down and smoothing your shorts like you’d just been caught robbing a bank.

Kouta stood at the bottom of the stairs in his All Might pajamas, rubbing his eyes with one fist while clutching a stuffed Dynamight plushie in the other. “I had a bad dream about... about the bad guy from the movie... Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”

Bakugo’s face went through about five stages of grief in two seconds. First denial (mouth opening and closing like a fish), then anger (at the universe, probably), then bargaining (silently cursing every deity), acceptance (slumping back against the couch with a defeated groan), and finally, explosive irritation.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he muttered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear. Then, louder, forcing his voice into something almost gentle (which for Bakugo meant only mildly terrifying): “Oi, brat. Go back to bed. It’s late as hell.

Kouta’s lower lip wobbled. “But Daddy... the explosions... they were scary...”

You shot Bakugo a look that said “be nice or I’ll kill you myself” and opened your arms. “Come here, baby. Bad dreams suck, huh?”

Kouta toddled over immediately, climbing onto the couch and wedging himself right between the two of you like a tiny, explosive cockblock. He snuggled into your side, then looked up at Bakugo with those big innocent eyes. “Daddy, can you make the bad guys go boom in real life if they come?”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose, "i was gonna come too" His other hand twitching like he wanted to set off a small explosion but couldn’t because, you know, child. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll blow up anything that tries to mess with you. Now shut your eyes and sleep, or I’ll... I’ll make you eat broccoli for breakfast.”

Kouta giggled sleepily, clearly not threatened. “You always say that but you never do... Mommy makes pancakes.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Bakugo’s eye twitched. He draped an arm over the back of the couch, his hand subtly brushing your shoulder in a “this isn’t over” promise, while Kouta started drifting off again, mumbling something about “Daddy’s special moves.”

The movie was still playing in the background, now at some ridiculous slow-motion explosion scene that felt way too on-the-nose.

You leaned your head against Bakugo’s shoulder, whispering, “Something special tonight, huh? Looks like the special is a family cuddle session with a side of blue balls.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. His lips twitched into a reluctant smirk. “Little shit has timing worse than Deku’s speeches. Tomorrow night... I’m setting up a damn barrier quirk around the bedroom. Or tying bells to their doors. Something.”

You snorted softly. “You’d blow the house up trying to baby-proof the sex life.”

“Worth it.”

Kouta stirred a little, sighing contentedly. “Love you, Mommy... Love you, Daddy... Even if you were wrestling on the couch...”

Bakugo’s face went beet red. “We weren’t–! Oi, you were supposed to be asleep, you damn spy!”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Laughter bubbled up, shaking your shoulders as you tried to muffle it against Bakugo’s arm. He glared at you, but soon enough his own low chuckles joined in, careful not to wake the kid fully.

“Next time,” he whispered fiercely against your ear, his breath hot and promising, “we’re locking the damn door, blasting music, and I’m making good on that ‘something special.’ Even if I have to explode the hinges off later.”

“Romantic,” you whispered back, still giggling. “My hero.”

The three of you eventually settled in, Kouta snoring softly between you, the TV forgotten. Bakugo’s hand found yours over the back of the couch, squeezing once, twice. A silent “to be continued.”

And as the movie credits rolled, you couldn’t help but think: married life with Bakugo Katsuki was chaotic, loud, and frequently interrupted by tiny villains in footie pajamas... but you wouldn’t trade the hilarious cockblocks for anything.

Especially not when he leaned over later, once Kouta was fully out, and muttered, “Love you, dumbass. Even when the brats blue-ball us.”

“Love you too, you horny gremlin.”

The end... or at least until the next kid inevitably woke up.

©Ashthesalamipiece 2026. DO NOT TRANSLATE, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USE MY WRITING FOR AI WITHOUT PERMISSION

Divider @pixopix I'm im not wrong

[ashthesalamipiece]

Jjk characters reacting to you sending an ugly picture of them

Characters// Gojo Satoru, Nanami kento,Suguru Geto

Genre: Smau

Uhm okay so first smau ever?🥹 i sincerely apologize for the lack of characters, tumblr wont let me add more than 10 photos at once and + i only did a few characters because im still new at this, very very new.

I have No idea how to do smaus, i looked up inspo and stuff and just went with the flow i guess😅 im really sorry if the text are dry as fuck im still learning, Im only testing this out and theres no clue or proof i will continue trying smaus, let me know what you think and if i should keep on trying. Also idk why the pictures turned out like this but i cant fix it.

@pro-herokatsukispubies

Without further ado, enjoy♡

[ashthesalamipiece]

"Cum home and ruin me"| Bakugo Katsuki x Female Reader

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Female reader

Summary: During a long agency meeting, Bakugo receives an explicit nude video from his girlfriend. He rushes home and claims her body relentlessly through the night. The next morning, he smirks watching her wobble in his oversized t-shirt, her neck covered in dark bite marks and hickeys.

Word count: 5,6k

Content: 18+, explicit content, adult sexual content, Bakugo x female reader, rough intimacy, teasing video, nude video, multiple rounds, creampie, biting, marking, hickeys, nipple play, nipple sucking, possessive behavior, morning after, wobbly legs, size difference, dirty talk, power dynamics, established relationship, smut, lemon, there will be shown a warning when the smut happens

a/n: This is my first ever time writing something this long, especially a smut fic. Im really proud of this but i feel like I kept using repetitive words so if you read and see the same words used over and over again, im sorry🥹 im still a newbie at writing smut so i hope you can let it pass this once😅

Also a quick warning, this one is kinda gross so please scroll if any disturbs you, and this proofread really badly so im sorry of any mistakes!

Also im tagging a certain mutual who i know is a freak for this ahem ahem [@pro-herokatsukispubies]

But Without further ado,

Enjoy my loves♡

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Katsuki Bakugo sat at the head of the long conference table in the top-floor war room of his agency, Dynamight Hero Agency, arms crossed tight over his broad chest, scarlet eyes narrowed at the holographic map floating above the center of the table. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the sharp lines of his hero costume, still half-zipped because he’d stormed straight from patrol into this bullshit meeting. His sidekicks and a couple of visiting agency reps droned on about patrol routes, villain sighting patterns in the eastern district, and some new support gear prototype that was apparently “revolutionary.”

He wasn’t listening. Not really. His jaw was clenched so hard it ached, one boot tapping an impatient rhythm under the table. All he could think about was you, his fiery little girlfriend who’d texted him right before he walked in: "Miss you already, baby. Hurry home." With that little heart-eyes emoji you knew pissed him off and turned him on at the same time.

The meeting had dragged for two fucking hours already. Two hours of “yes, sir” and “we should consider” and idiots who couldn’t read a goddamn map. His phone sat face-down on the table beside his water bottle, silent. For now.

“and that’s the projected impact on response times if we reroute Unit Three through the industrial zone,” one of the reps finished, clicking to the next slide.

Bakugo grunted, the sound low and dangerous. “Fine. Whatever. Next.”

He didn’t even look at the slide. His mind was already halfway home, imagining you spread out on his bed in nothing but one of his oversized tank tops, waiting for him like you always did after a long shift. The thought made his cock twitch lazily in his pants. He shifted in his chair, thighs flexing under the reinforced fabric.

Then the clock hit 3:45 PM.

“Ten-minute break,” his head of operations announced, standing up and stretching. “Bathroom, coffee, whatever. Back at four sharp, boss wants the full tactical review done before patrol shift change.”

Chairs scraped. People filed out, chatting, laughing, grabbing snacks from the side table. Bakugo stayed seated for a second, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. The room emptied fast. He reached for his phone, thumbing it open with one hand while the other dragged through his spiky blond hair.

A new notification. From you.

His lips curled into a smirk. Finally. He expected a voice note, maybe a teasing photo of your tits in that lacy bra he liked. He tapped it open without thinking.

It wasn’t a photo.

It was a video. Thirty-two seconds long. The thumbnail was dark, but he caught the glint of your skin, the curve of your shoulder, the way your hair spilled over bare collarbones.

His pulse kicked hard.

He glanced once at the open door, no one in the hallway visible then propped the phone against his water bottle, angled so only he could see the screen. Volume all the way down. He hit play.

The video started with a soft giggle, your voice, low and breathy, the one that always made his dick jump. The camera was propped up on the nightstand in your shared bedroom, the big floor-length mirror behind the bed catching every angle. You were already naked. Completely. Standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but the thin gold chain he’d bought you for your anniversary, the one that dangled right between your tits.

“Hi, baby,” you purred straight into the camera, voice dripping honey and sin. “I know you’re stuck in that boring meeting… but I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

You ran your hands up your sides, slow, deliberate, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your thumbs flicked over your nipples, already hard and pebbled. A soft moan slipped out of you, and Bakugo’s cock thickened instantly, pressing against the front of his pants like it had a mind of its own.

“Miss your hands on me,” you whispered, pinching harder, rolling your nipples until your back arched. “Miss your mouth… the way you bite right here—” You tilted your head, dragging your nails down your throat, leaving faint red lines. “and the way you growl when I’m wet for you.”

You turned around, giving the camera a full view of your ass. Plump, perfect, the kind he loved to grab and spank until it glowed red. You bent forward slightly, reaching back to spread yourself open with two fingers. The camera caught everything, your slick, glistening pussy lips, the tight little hole he’d fucked raw more times than he could count, already dripping down your thighs.

“See what you do to me, Katsuki?” Your voice cracked with need. “I’m so fucking wet. Been touching myself for an hour thinking about your cock stretching me open.”

You sank two fingers into yourself right there, moaning loud enough that even with the volume low he could hear the wet, obscene sound. Your hips rolled, fucking your own hand slow and deep, ass jiggling with every thrust. The mirror showed your face, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed dark.

Bakugo’s breathing went ragged. His cock was fully hard now, thick and aching, trapped painfully against his thigh. He palmed it once through his pants, squeezing hard, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

You pulled your fingers out, shiny and coated, and brought them to your mouth. You sucked them clean, eyes locked on the camera like you were staring straight into his soul.

“Want you to come home and ruin me,” you gasped, climbing onto the bed on all fours. The camera angle was perfect, your pussy and ass on full display, tits hanging heavy, nipples brushing the sheets. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow. Want your cum dripping out of me while you go back to work like nothing happened.”

You reached between your legs again, rubbing tight circles over your swollen clit, moaning his name like a prayer. “Katsuki… fuck—Katsuki, please—”

The video ended right as your thighs started to shake, right on the edge.

Bakugo stared at the black screen, chest heaving. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. Pre-cum had soaked through his boxers, leaving a wet spot he could feel cooling against his skin. He was rock-hard, balls tight, every muscle coiled like he was about to explode, literally. His palms itched with the urge to spark, tiny explosions popping between his fingers before he forced them down.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growled under his breath, voice wrecked. He locked the phone and shoved it into his pocket, but the image of you, spread open, dripping, begging for his cock—was burned behind his eyelids.

The break was almost over. He could hear voices coming back down the hall. He adjusted himself as best he could, crossing one leg over the other, but the bulge was obvious if anyone bothered to look. He didn’t give a shit. Let them stare. His mind was already racing ahead, picturing exactly how he was going to destroy you the second he got home.

He was going to shove you against the wall the moment he walked through the door. Rip those soaked panties off with his teeth. Bury his face between your legs and eat you until you screamed his name loud enough for the whole building to hear. Then he’d flip you over, ass up, and fuck you raw, deep, brutal strokes that would have the headboard slamming against the wall. He’d make you cum on his cock twice before he even let himself finish, filling you so full his cum would leak out around him while he kept pounding.

And when you were a sobbing, shaking mess, he’d pull out, flip you onto your back, and do it all over again. Slower this time. Meaner. Until you were crying and clawing at his back and promising you’d never tease him during a meeting again.

The door opened. People filed back in, chatting, settling into chairs. His head of operations gave him a nod. “Ready to continue, sir?”

Bakugo’s smirk was sharp, dangerous, feral.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and rough, already tasting you on his tongue. “Let’s make this quick. I got somewhere I need to be.”

He shifted again, cock still painfully hard, the memory of your video looping in his head like a goddamn highlight reel. The meeting dragged on for another hour, but he powered through every slide, every question, every decision with terrifying efficiency. Because the sooner this shit ended, the sooner he could get home.

And when he did?

You were going to get exactly what you’d asked for.

He was going to fuck the absolute shit out of you.

The meeting wrapped exactly the way Bakugo wanted it to, fast, brutal, and with zero room for questions. He slammed his palm on the table the second the last slide clicked off, sparks popping between his fingers like warning shots. “We’re done. Anyone who’s still talking when I walk out that door is on overtime for the next month. Move.”

Chairs scraped. Sidekicks scattered. He was already halfway down the hall before the door even shut behind him, boots pounding the polished floor like he was charging into a villain fight instead of racing home to wreck you. The drive back to your shared apartment was a blur of snarled traffic and his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his cock still half-hard and throbbing against his thigh from that goddamn video looping in his head on repeat. Every red light felt like torture. Every second without you under him was too fucking long.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t even bother with the elevator, took the stairs three at a time, explosions crackling at his heels for that extra burst of speed. The front door slammed open so hard the hinges groaned, and there you were.

Exactly how he’d left you in his mind, only better. Still naked, sprawled across the living room couch like you’d been touching yourself again while waiting, one leg hooked over the armrest, fingers lazily circling your swollen clit. Your eyes flew wide when you saw him, lips parting on a breathless little “Katsuki-” but that was all you got out.

He was on you in two strides.

Bakugo didn’t speak. He grabbed you by the thighs, yanked you up, and crushed his mouth to yours so hard your teeth clicked. His tongue shoved past your lips, devouring, claiming, tasting the faint sweetness of your own fingers from earlier. One big hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back so he could bite down the column of your throat, sucking a dark mark right over the spot you’d teased in the video.

“Fucking tease,” he growled against your skin, voice wrecked and low. “Sending me that shit in the middle of a meeting? You wanted my cock that bad, huh? Couldn’t wait five goddamn minutes?”

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders through the thick fabric of his hero suit. He didn’t give you time to answer. He spun you around, bent you over the back of the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you like a man starved. His palms, rough, calloused, still faintly warm from the explosions he’d used to get here—spread your ass wide open. The cool air hit your dripping pussy and you shivered, but then his mouth was on you and everything went white-hot.

He ate you like he was pissed at you. No gentle licks, no teasing. Just his tongue dragging flat and filthy from your clit all the way up to your tight little hole, sucking your folds into his mouth with wet, obscene sounds that echoed through the apartment. Two thick fingers shoved inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your knees buckle.

“Shit—Katsuki—!” Your voice cracked as he sucked your clit between his teeth, flicking it mercilessly while his fingers pumped deep and fast. Your juices coated his chin, dripped down his wrist, and he groaned into your pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he snarled, pulling back just enough to spit on your cunt before diving back in. “Drip for me, baby. Gonna fuck you so full you’ll be leaking my cum for days.”

You were shaking already, thighs trembling, but he didn’t let you cum. The second your walls started fluttering around his fingers he pulled out, stood up, and shoved you down onto the couch on your back. His hero suit jacket hit the floor. Then the belt. Then his pants, kicked off with his boots still half-laced. His cock sprang free, thick, heavy, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking pre-cum in a shiny bead that made your mouth water.

He didn’t give you a second to breathe.

Bakugo grabbed your ankles, pushed your knees to your chest, and lined himself up. The fat head of his cock nudged your entrance once, teasing, threatening before he snapped his hips forward and buried every inch inside you in one brutal thrust.

The stretch burned so good. You cried out, back arching clean off the cushions, nails raking down his arms as he bottomed out with a guttural groan. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes locked on where your pussy stretched obscenely around his girth. “Still so fucking wet from that video? Greedy little slut. My greedy little slut.”

He didn’t ease in. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for hours, hard, deep, punishing strokes that made the couch creak and your tits bounce with every slam. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his low, filthy growls. One of his hands pinned your thigh open wider, the other braced beside your head so he could watch your face twist in pleasure.

“Look at you,” he taunted, grinding his hips in slow, filthy circles just to feel you clench around him. “Taking my cock so pretty. Bet you were fingering this tight cunt the whole time I was gone, thinking about me splitting you open.”

You could only nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks shooting up your spine. His balls slapped heavy against your ass, and the faint scent of smoke and caramel, his nitroglycerin sweat, clung to his skin, making you dizzy.

Bakugo leaned down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting before he licked into your mouth again. “Gonna ruin this pussy,” he promised against your tongue, picking up speed until the couch was rocking. “Gonna fuck you till you can’t even remember your own name. Then I’m flipping you over and doing it again. And again. Till you’re sobbing for my cum.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could drive even deeper. The new angle made you scream, loud, shameless, the kind of sound that would’ve had the neighbors banging on the walls if you cared. His free hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, mean circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his cock.

Your walls fluttered hard around him. You were so close, right there on the razor’s edge, but he felt it. Of course he did. He slowed just enough to keep you dangling, hips rolling deep and lazy now, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch inside you.

“Not yet,” he growled, voice dark and commanding. “You don’t get to cum till I say. I’m not done with you, baby. Not even close.”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined at the loss, but he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, yanking your hips up so your ass was high and your chest pressed into the cushions. He slapped your ass once, sharp, stinging and then twice more on the other cheek just to watch the skin bloom pink under his palm.

Then he was back inside you, sinking in to the hilt in one smooth glide. This angle was even deeper. Meaner. His hand fisted in your hair, arching your back as he started pounding into you again, slow and hard and relentless.

“Gonna keep this pussy stuffed full all night,” he panted, voice rough with effort. Sweat glistened on his chest, dripped onto your back as he leaned over you. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you exactly where he wanted you while his cock dragged in and out, thick and veiny and perfect. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am? This is what you asked for when you sent that fucking video.”

Your moans were muffled into the couch, body shaking with every thrust. He was everywhere, inside you, around you, owning every inch. His free hand reached around to pinch and roll your nipple, then slid down to rub your clit again, keeping you right on that agonizing edge.

Bakugo’s hips snapped harder, faster, the wet squelch of your pussy taking him echoing louder now. His balls drew up tight, cock twitching inside you, but he held back with sheer stubborn will, growling low in his throat.

“Yeah… just like that,” he rasped, grinding deep and staying there for a second, letting you feel every thick inch pulse against your walls. “Keep squeezing my cock like that. We’re not stopping. Not till I’ve fucked every last bit of that tease out of you.”

He started moving again, long, punishing strokes that had you gasping his name like a prayer, the couch creaking dangerously beneath you both, his body heat scorching against your back as he fucked you harder, deeper, meaner, with no end in sight.

Bakugo’s hips snapped forward again, burying his cock to the hilt in one savage thrust that punched the air out of your lungs. The couch creaked violently under the force, the fabric scraping against your tits as your chest stayed pinned down, ass arched high for him like an offering. His thick shaft stretched you open so perfectly, every vein and ridge dragging along your fluttering walls, and the wet, filthy squelch of your pussy swallowing him echoed louder than your broken moans.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” he snarled, voice gravel-rough and dripping with that smug, feral edge. His fingers tightened in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make your spine curve deeper, forcing you to take every brutal inch. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, baby. This cunt’s mine. You hear me? Mine to wreck whenever I want.”

He didn’t let up. His pace stayed punishing, long, deep strokes that pulled almost all the way out, the fat head of his cock catching at your entrance for a split second, before slamming back in hard enough to make your ass ripple. Sweat slicked down his chest, dripping onto your back in hot little splashes that made your skin prickle. The arm wrapped around your waist held you exactly where he wanted you, fingers digging into your soft belly so he could feel the way his cock bulged inside you with every thrust.

You were a mess, thighs trembling, juices dripping down to soak the couch cushions, your clit throbbing under the relentless circles of his thumb. Every time you clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper, he growled and rewarded you with a sharp snap of his hips that made stars burst behind your eyes. But he never let you tip over. The second your walls started fluttering harder, the second your moans pitched up into that desperate whine he knew so well, he slowed just enough, grinding deep and filthy, rolling his hips in slow circles that dragged his cockhead right against that spongy spot inside you without giving you the friction you needed to cum.

“Not yet,” he panted hot against the shell of your ear, biting down on the lobe hard enough to sting. “You don’t get to cum on my cock till I’ve had my fill. You teased me all fucking day with that video, now you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you clenching around nothing, a pathetic whimper ripping from your throat. But before you could even beg, he flipped you onto your back on the couch like you weighed nothing, shoving your knees up to your shoulders in one smooth motion. The new angle folded you in half, your soaked pussy on full display, glistening and puffy from how hard he’d already fucked you. His cock—shiny with your cream, veins pulsing, slapped heavy against your clit once, twice, before he lined up and drove back inside with a single, punishing thrust.

“Shit—Katsuki—!” Your cry cracked as he bottomed out again, even deeper now, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every roll of his hips. He braced one hand on the back of the couch, the other pinning your thigh open wider, and started fucking you in earnest, hard, steady, relentless strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch on every impact.

“Look at you,” he growled, scarlet eyes locked on where your bodies joined, watching his thick cock disappear into your tight heat over and over. “All spread open for me, dripping everywhere. Such a pretty little slut when you’re stuffed full.” His thumb found your clit again, rubbing faster now, mean little circles that had your back arching clean off the cushions. “Bet you’d let me fuck you right here in the living room every night if I wanted. Let the whole damn city hear you screaming my name.”

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines across the hard muscle, and he hissed in pleasure, hips stuttering for a second before he doubled down. The couch was soaked beneath you, the air thick with the scent of sex and his nitroglycerin sweat, caramel and smoke and pure Bakugo. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth, sucking hard while his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. The dual sensation, his cock pounding deep and his mouth claiming your tit, had you sobbing his name, legs shaking around his shoulders.

He switched to the other nipple, biting down just enough to make you jolt, then soothed it with a slow, filthy lick. “Gonna mark you up so everyone at the agency knows exactly who you belong to,” he muttered against your skin, voice muffled. “Gonna leave bruises on these pretty tits and this perfect ass so you remember who fucked you stupid every time you move tomorrow.”

His thrusts grew even deeper, slower for a moment so he could grind against your clit with every roll of his hips, keeping you right there, teetering on the edge, body burning, pussy clenching desperately around his girth. Pre-cum leaked steadily from his tip inside you, mixing with your wetness and making every slide even wetter, even louder. His balls slapped heavy against your ass with every drive, tight and full, but he held himself back with that iron control, jaw clenched, sweat dripping from his blond spikes onto your chest.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, low and wrecked, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face twist in pleasure. “So hot and wet and tight, gonna keep this pussy full all night. Gonna fuck you till you’re crying, till you’re begging me to let you cum, and then I’m gonna flip you over and start all over again.”

He pulled your legs off his shoulders just long enough to hook them around his waist, then scooped you up off the couch entirely, cock still buried deep inside you. Your arms flew around his neck as he carried you across the room like it was nothing, every step jolting his cock deeper into you. He pressed your back against the living room wall, the cool surface a shock against your overheated skin, and started fucking you upright, hard, upward thrusts that had you bouncing on his cock, gravity driving him impossibly deeper.

“Hold on tight, baby,” he growled against your throat, teeth scraping over the fresh hickey he’d sucked there earlier. One hand gripped your ass, spreading you open so he could watch himself disappear inside you with every brutal snap of his hips. The other braced against the wall beside your head, muscles flexing as he used the leverage to pound into you even harder. “That’s it, take it. Take every fucking inch like the greedy girl you are.”

Your head thunked back against the wall, moans spilling out nonstop now, broken and needy. His cock dragged perfectly along every sensitive spot inside you, the angle hitting that spot over and over until your vision blurred. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles, pushing you right back to the brink again, closer, hotter, more desperate than before. But he felt it. He always felt it. He slowed his thrusts to deep, grinding rolls, keeping you stuffed full and throbbing but refusing to let you tip over.

“Not done yet,” he rasped, voice dark and commanding, lips brushing yours in a messy, possessive kiss. “We’re just getting started. I’m gonna fuck you against this wall till your legs give out, then I’m carrying you to the bedroom and bending you over the bed. Gonna keep this cunt dripping and full until you can’t even think straight.”

He started moving again, long, powerful strokes that had the wall rattling behind you, his cock slamming home with wet, obscene sounds while his thumb never stopped teasing your swollen clit. Your bodies were slick with sweat, pressed so tight together you could feel his heart hammering against yours, his breath hot and ragged in your ear as he kept fucking you deeper, harder, meaner, with no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Bakugo’s hips slammed into you with a wet, punishing slap, driving his cock so deep against the living room wall that your back arched hard enough to lift you off your feet for a split second. Your legs were locked tight around his waist, ankles digging into the small of his back, but it wasn’t enough—he needed more. Always more. One massive hand gripped your ass cheek hard enough to bruise, spreading you wider as he fucked up into you with short, brutal thrusts that had the wall rattling behind your shoulders.

“Fuck—Katsuki—please—” Your voice was shredded, raw from how long he’d kept you dangling on that edge. Your pussy was a sloppy, fluttering mess around his thick cock, cream coating his shaft and dripping down to soak his balls with every savage plunge.

He snarled against your throat, teeth sinking into the soft skin right below your ear as he ground his pelvis against your swollen clit. “Beg louder, baby. I wanna hear how bad you need it after teasing me all goddamn day.”

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, leaving fresh red lines down the hard muscle. “I need it—need you to cum inside me—please, I’m so close—”

That did it.

Bakugo’s control finally snapped. He shifted his grip, both hands locking under your thighs to hold you open like a toy, and started fucking you in earnest, deep, relentless strokes that punched the breath out of you. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with your broken cries and his low, animalistic growls. His cock dragged perfectly along that spongy spot inside you with every thrust, the fat head kissing your cervix over and over while his thumb found your clit again and rubbed tight, merciless circles.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut?” he panted, voice wrecked and filthy. Sweat dripped from his spiked hair onto your tits, rolling down your stomach as he pounded you harder. “Squeeze me—fuck—milk it out of me. I’m gonna fill this pussy so full you’ll be leaking for hours.”

Your walls clamped down hard around him, fluttering wildly as the pressure finally crested. The orgasm hit you like an explosion, white-hot, shattering, ripping through your body so violently your vision whited out. You screamed his name, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his waist, pussy gushing around his cock as you came harder than you ever had.

Bakugo cursed loud and raw, hips stuttering once, twice, then he buried himself to the hilt and let go. His cock throbbed violently inside you, thick ropes of hot cum pulsing deep against your cervix as he came with a guttural groan that vibrated against your neck. He kept thrusting through it, slow and deep, grinding every last drop into you while your walls milked him dry, drawing out both your orgasms until you were trembling and gasping in his arms.

“Shit… that’s it… take every fucking drop,” he growled, voice hoarse, forehead pressed to yours as the last weak spurts of his cum filled you. Your combined mess dripped down your thighs, slick and warm, but he didn’t pull out. Not yet. He stayed buried deep, rocking gently, letting you feel him soften just a little inside your fluttering heat while he kissed you slow and messy, tongues sliding lazy and spent.

You stayed like that for long minutes, pressed to the wall, his cock still nestled inside you, both of you breathing hard and slick with sweat. Eventually he carried you to the bedroom without pulling out, every step making his softening dick shift inside your sensitive pussy and draw little whimpers from your lips. He laid you down on the bed, finally sliding free with a wet pop, and collapsed beside you, one heavy arm dragging you against his chest.

But even then, he wasn’t done. His fingers slipped between your legs, pushing his cum back inside you with lazy strokes while he kissed the fresh bite marks blooming across your neck.

“Round two in five minutes,” he muttered against your skin, voice already darkening again. “Then three. Then four. You’re not sleeping tonight, baby.”

You woke up the next morning to sunlight spilling across the sheets and the heavy, familiar weight of Bakugo’s arm draped over your waist.

He was already awake, propped up on one elbow, scarlet eyes half-lidded and watching you with that lazy, satisfied smirk that always made your stomach flip. His blond hair was even more of a disaster than usual, sticking up in every direction, and the sheet had slipped low on his hips, showing off the deep scratches you’d left down his chest and abs last night.

You tried to sit up, big mistake.

Your legs felt like jelly. Actually, worse than jelly. Every muscle from your thighs to your core ached in the best, most filthy way possible, and when you swung your feet to the floor and stood, your knees buckled for a second. You caught yourself on the nightstand, wobbling like a newborn deer as you reached for the glass of water you’d meant to bring him.

Bakugo’s low, rumbling laugh filled the room, deep, smug, and way too pleased with himself.

“The fuck are you laughing at?” you grumbled, shooting him a glare over your shoulder. But even that came out breathy and weak.

He didn’t even try to hide it. His smirk widened into a full grin, sharp and feral, as he watched you shuffle across the bedroom in nothing but his oversized black tank top. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, and every shaky step made it ride up, flashing the dark purple bruises he’d sucked into your hips. Your neck was a complete wreck, covered in overlapping bite marks and hickeys that ranged from deep red to angry purple, trailing all the way down to your collarbones like a goddamn map of where his mouth had been.

You looked thoroughly, gloriously ruined.

And he was loving every second of it.

“Careful, princess,” he drawled, voice still rough from sleep and everything you’d done last night. He folded one arm behind his head, the other resting on his abs as he openly stared. “Those legs look like they’re about to give out. Maybe I went too easy on you.”

You stopped halfway to the bed, glass of water trembling slightly in your hand, and turned to give him the most unimpressed stare you could muster. “Easy? You fucked me against the wall, on the couch, bent over the bed, and then made me ride you till I cried. I can still feel you leaking out of me, Katsuki.”

His eyes darkened instantly at the words, that smug grin turning hungry again as he let his gaze drag slow and deliberate down your body, lingering on the way his tank top clung to your tits, the fresh marks on your neck, the way your thighs pressed together like you were trying to keep his cum right where it belonged.

He laughed again, softer this time, but no less arrogant.

“Yeah? Good. Means you’ll remember exactly who owns that pussy every time you try to walk today.” He patted the bed beside him, eyes gleaming. “Now bring me that water before you fall on your ass. And when you get back here… lose the shirt. We’re not done yet.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the heat already curling low in your belly told you exactly how this morning was going to go.

Still, you wobbled back to the bed, handed him the glass, and gave him one last defiant little stare, just to make him laugh again.

Because you both knew you’d be losing the shirt in about ten seconds flat.

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