luv men who love you weirdly. who love you so much it’s just shy of creepy. luv men who r a little not normal when it comes to you n their love for you.
youre offline because you have an irl life and miss one load bearing post on here and all of a sudden you dont understand any of the vagues on your dash for the next week
HII I usually don't do ask much but since u are finally back I was wondering if u can write reader who is obsessed with bakugo body especially his chest muscles because that man's body is so perfect I am jealous ofc in a fluffy way no $MUT ToT
Missed you alot!❤️❤️
body-ody-ody-ody !!
synopsis : your boyfriend is extremely jacked. that's it send tweet. #needthat #wantsthatcookiesoeffinbad
an. help!!! my boyfriend is too damn sexy!!! still sob!! but i thought this ask was cute and most importantly looooong overdue (if ur still around hope you enjoy it rosemarygalaxy :3), and i figured it'd be good practice, hope yall enjoy !! hey look at me using my taglist sorry for forgetting sm yall >_<
cw. pro hero! suki, uhmm katsuki shirtless katsuki muscles mmmmm, you need that BAD (who doesnt when he's in the room), i'm rusty sorry :(, reader is an actual fiend, we call katsuki a whore but like affectionate, bitersuki mentioned WIPPEEE!! and biter reader equal rights equal bites (yes i came up with that one myself pls laugh), not proofread and idc but i do but i'll fix it later its the thought that counts
"you should be put in jail."
“huh ?”
“jail. actually, under the jail..actually, death row.” you reply, squinting at the blond.
“that’s not an answer.” katsuki quips, searching around for a clean shirt to wear. he doesn’t care much to cover up around you like he used to when you first started dating. back then even just the thought of holding hands was too much for his brain, you're sure if his past self saw him now he'd have an aneurysm.
“you...are ridiculously ripped.” you state bluntly. katsuki huffs out a laugh, a snarky smirk grows on his face. his search for a shirt now halted while he waits for you to continue.
“ya don’t say.” he responds easily, you sink into his bed with a huff and crossed arms. "and how does that warrant me getting jailed for it ?"
“i dunno. i just think it’s not very fair.” you pout.
katsuki laughs, turning to face you, his mission of finding a shirt now long forgotten, he comes to lay down next to you. you try not to look too startled when the sudden weight of him makes the bed bounce lightly. he's laying on side now, looking like an actual sculpted piece of art. he rests his head against his fist and the position puts extra strain on his arm, his biceps bulging and looking so scrumptious. and no, there is no other word more fitting than scrumptious to describe the way his arms (and him as a whole) look right now.
“no ?” he teases, clearly amused, leaning his head to the side to look at you.
“not at all.” you immediately shoot back, fighting back the smile pulling at your face when you see his widen. you reach out, shamelessly running your hands up and down your boyfriend's sculpted body. he leans back slightly, giving you more space to rush through across his collar bone, his pecs, and of course--his stupid fucking arms.
“you're so stupidly ripped it's actually insane, it’s like you’re made of fuckin’ marble.” you squeeze his arm, and despite having felt it more than once your eyes still bulge at the feeling of pure muscle, had it somehow gotten firmer ?? your eyebrows pull in actual disbelief and katsuki's chest shakes with chuckles he can't hide.
“are you a greek god or something ? what do you eat ?!”
katsuki shakes his head at your antics but he’d be a liar if he said you shamelessly praising him like this wasn't a massive boost to his ego. he secretly enjoys the praise, though secret might be an overstatement, his expression does little to hide this so called secret. he’s oozing with pride, and you can tell because you nudge him. he doesn’t budge. of course he doesn't, the damn tank...
“see, that’s why i didn’t wanna tell you. you’re head’ll just get bigger than it already is,” you groan. "and if it keeps growing it'll just end up popping."
suddenly, katsuki flops onto you dramatically. the heaviness if his body against yours makes you let out a harsh "oof !". he pays you no mind, playing with the material of your shirt.
“you say that, but ya seemed pretty eager to sing my praises. not that i mind.”
you roll your eyes, your smile betrays you “yeah, i’m sure you don’t.” the blond putting his full weight on top of you laughs.
"ugh, katsuki—you're crushing me." you grunt, pushing his chest uselessly and when he again, doesn't budge, you groan loud, dramatically, and he snickers because your torment is hilarious to him.
"quit whinin', you're fine."
"i'm gonna die. i'm gonna die just like this. crushed by a big hunk of pro hero muscle." you sigh, defeated. katsuki's hand move reflexively over yours, shuffling down your body and finally having mercy on you, he laces your hand with his hair. grunting as your cue to start moving. so needy, you rolll your eyes, but your hands fiddle with little braids and rubs of your thumbs into his scalp. his chest, his very warm naked chest against your stomach, rumbles happily and only when you look down at him do you realise you are being given a first class view to his broad chiseled back.
"..holy shit, you're the worst.." you throw your head back in complaint.
katsuki hums in response "what'd i do now ?"
"be stupid hot." you shoot back. your boyfriend snorts in response, his hands roam up and down your sides.
"you're so fuckin' obsessed with me." he goads boastfully. you can feel the shit eating grin against your skin. you tug a strand of his hair weakly because there was simply no way for you to deny his claim.
"not obsessed. scandalized, "you correct stubbornly i'm baffled that you'd so shamelessly show this much skin, you should be ashamed actually, truly." katsuki lifts his head up to raise a brow at you.
"why're you talkin' like i'm a whore ?"
silence. you stare at each other, a beat passes.
"...well if the shoe fits—"
"like hell it does, dipshit." he reprimands, pinching both your sides harshly. you squeal out a laugh your legs, still under his weight, jolt under him and he grunts, taking it as a counter attack he doubles in his efforts, poking and prodding at your tummy until he's looming over you and you're writhing away from him.
"it's fine, suki. you're my whore and i love you just as you are—mm !" you're interrupted by katsuki squeezing your cheeks in one of his big strong hands.
"i don't want to be—i'm not your whore, dumbass." he sputters
"i can fight." you jokingly reassure between smushed cheeks.
"are you actually fucking high on somethin'." he groans, exasperated. "swear i'm actually gonna start covering up around you, sick of you actin' out when you catch a glimpse of my skin."
"s'your fault," you clutch his wrist, tugging and pulling until he loosens "you just look so yummy, katsuki. makes me wanna eat you." katsuki's bewildered expression when he processes your sentence makes you giggle uncontrollably.
"there's no way. you're actually fucking high. let me see your eyes—stop squirming—" he grabs your eyelid and widens it while you laugh. he can complain all he wants, but the cute flush across his cheeks and delicious chest does a bad job at hiding his little secret.
"i hate you. can't ever just let me be, can you." he mutters, finally slumping back into your shared bed and crossing his arms. it accentuates his chest and you wonder if he's doing it on purpose. either way so as not to ruffle him any further, you press a kiss to his collar bone with a giggle. then to his hiked up shoulder, then his cheek, his nose and the space between his brow that makes him groan in mock annoyance but quickly lowers his guard, shoulders loosening.
"m'sorry for playing too much, my handsome adonis of a wife." you simper sweetly. katsuki's groans tears through him, he throws his head back and away from you so hard your laughter presses to the side of his jaw.
"m'not your fuckin' wife either, quit it with your weird shit."
"boyfriend. my handsome adonis boyfriend." you correct quickly. kissing from jaw to cheek you lean over him, pressing closer to his warm body. "don't be mad at me." you plead, batting your lashes at him.
katsuki squints at you and quickly resigns with an eye roll, shoving you to his chest. "yer lucky i like you for some reason."
but he seems to forget, brain fogged with how familiar the movement, that he has you pressed to his naked chest. right to it. before you can get a breath out he speaks.
"bite me and i kill you."
"so it's cool when you do it but it's a problem when i do it ?"
"i don't—!" he starts, insulted, but he quickly doesn't bother arguing with you. "i'll bite your mouth off next time." he warns. it sounds like a promise, you laugh."
"can't wait." you tease. katsuki acts on his promise halfway and leans down and bite your ear in warning, grunting like an animal. you squeal against his warm, scarred chest.
you love katsuki's muscles; his chest, his arms, his shoulders, but your favourite part about being so close to his skin is the steady beating of his heart.
taglist!! (if your names in bold i couldnt tag you :( )
Any more thots thoughts about dom best friend!mattsun? 🎤🎤🎤
"hey matsukawa?"
glancing back over your shoulder from where you're currently lying across the length of the couch on your stomach, you drop one of your legs that's bent at the knee and dangling in the air to prod your best friend's thigh with your socked foot.
looking up from his phone, he smoothly catches your ankle in his hand as you start to poke higher up his leg, brow raised. "what's up?"
"how do you tell someone you're hooking up with that you want to try out a dom and sub dynamic?"
matsukawa blinks, the grip of the fingers that still encircle your ankle tightening just a fraction. "what?"
your other leg drops down, as you intend to roll over to face him better, but the forearm of his free hand comes to rest over it, effectively trapping you in place.
he doesn't even look down as he does it, reflexively almost. and something bright and and warm fizzes down your spine.
"i mean, i didn't have anyone in mind. this is just hypothetical. but ever since you told me about what you're into—"
(you haven't been able to stop thinking about it.)
"—i would argue that told and hiro blurted it out in the mcdonalds drive thru are two very different things—"
(you had a wet dream about your best friend that night, about his big hands curled around your throat, about his fingers in your mouth, about the way the words "good girl" would sound in his deep voice—)
"—anyway, it got me thinking..."
(it got you thinking about your wrists and matsukawa's headboard, about the teasing way he likes to tug at the choker necklace your wear sometimes—)
your neck's starting to ache from the angle you're twisted at to keep looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze isn't helping any, either. so you turn away, eyes focusing on the checkered pattern of the throw pillow clutched in your arms.
"i've just been wondering if it's something that i might enjoy. being submissive, that is."
matsukawa's quiet for a beat, thumb sliding slowly against your ankle when he finally replies, "you shouldn't experiment with someone who doesn't know what they're doing. that's not going to help you figure out if you like it."
your throat begins to feel dry, and your toes curl slightly.
(it's normal, this kind of casual touching between the two of you.)
(casual touches and borderline flirting.)
(it's normal, but every place his skin is touching yours has never burned quite so hot.)
"well what will help me figure it out? posting a classified ad on some sketchy website and meeting up with some creepy random daddy dom?"
mattsun snorts.
and without warning, you suddenly find yourself pinned beneath him.
and you should—
you should be tense, holding your breath, choking on your own spit at the way his hips are flush with your backside as he traps you fully this time.
but instead—
matsukawa's body heat sinks into yours as he splays his palm against the nape of your neck. he lets his hand slide along the curve of your jaw, cupping your face, fingers skirting against your partially-open lips.
and all you can do is let out an unconscious little sigh as pleasant, dizzy warmth floods your veins. you think about turning your face into his palm, taking his finger into your mouth. you think about going pliant beneath him—
the sound of loud knocks at the front door is like a bucket of ice water over your head. you can hear makki and oikawa arguing out in the hallway, followed by iwaizumi barking at both of them to shut up.
matsukawa curses softly under his breath before he leans in against your ear to murmur, "i don't think the question is if you're going to like it."
he's off of you and heading toward the entryway before you can respond.
so implicitly, without question. so easily in a way that wholly betrays the fractured, jagged disdain that scars the edges of most of his interpersonal relationships.
in a way he’s not quite sure he really deserves—especially not when he’s two knuckles deep inside of you, eyes laser focused on the way your lips part as he slowly, slowly, slowly sinks in.
your fingers clutch his shirt, and he thinks you might as well be grabbing him by the throat as you moan softly while he works your open, your wet heat like a delicate flower around his scarred hands.
“he said it was my fault it was taking so long,” you mumbled, face pressed into a throw pillow in embarrassment as you recounted your date.
katsuki’s thumb sweeps over your clit, and you’re a sensitive, needy mess, arousal slipping down his fingers and pooling in his palm.
“is it even possible to be bad at getting fingered?” you groaned.
there’s no resistance when he slips a second finger inside of you, only the sound of you panting his name, thighs spreading wider of their own accord, your nails digging into his bicep.
katsuki fucking hates that you trust him enough to let him finger you on his couch just to prove a goddamn point. that you know he wouldn’t tease you if it does take a while (but you’re so wet right now, you’re both well aware you weren’t the problem).
he hates that everyone knows he’s an asshole. and yet you—you curl up on his couch and put your feet in his lap and steal his food and call him stupid, cute nicknames because he lets you. because you’re his best friend, and he really doesn’t deserve you.
but here you are, somehow now in his lap, clinging to him and gasping and moaning, face buried in the crook of his neck and fingers threaded in the back of his hair while you cum so hard all over his fingers that he hears you choke back a sob.
(he hates that he’d do this again and again and again.)
on my break rn and i literally cannot stop thinking abt dry humping w bsf!bakugou like. normal roughhousing play fighting that is integral to your relationship goes slightly too far and you make a Noise when his knee slots between your legs and he's red in the face asking you what the fuck was that? then suddenly you're kissing all tongue and teeth and spit and he's grinding his hips into yours and his hands are grabbing your chest and yours are grabbing his hair and dragging him closer. he comes in his pants and you both stop dead staring at each other panting while you try to come up with something to say.
you end up sitting on opposite ends of the couch for the entire rest of your movie night and when you're leaving you shake fucking hands like business men cause the normal shove and hug is too intimate now.
texting him later that night to say "hi u gave me a hickey" and he just responds "ok". (he is fucking his fist thinking about the noise you made and how soft you were under him and how he wants to kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss you again).
hanging out with all your friends maybe a week after this and the normal clingy shit you both do is nowhere to be seen. you don't sit together, don't lean into his chest to show him something on your phone, he doesn't have his arm hooked around your neck in a halfhearted headlock. you two don't even look at each other.
everyone thinks you're fighting— it's happened before, you're both stubborn and annoying and don't communicate well at the best of times— and when mina asks "what's your problem? are you arguing again?" you both say yes way too fast and way too in sync. clearly you had the same idea to cover up whatever the fuck happened even if no one knows.
not even ten minutes later you're holed up in kirishimas bathroom kissing like your life depends on it. but still not talking about it.
Kenma leans across the kotatsu, stretching his switch as far out in front of him as he can, clearly intruding on your personal space. Under the table, his legs slide against yours, one foot nestling between your thighs. It’s a silent vie for your attention, one he can do without losing the beat of whatever he’s playing.
It’s a rhythm game. You can tell by the way his nose twitches along with the click of his stylus against the screen. His eyes, with a delicate down turn and heavy lids, watch the screen with an intent sharpness, but the rest of his face is calm. Smooth, unbothered, porcelain skin, soft lips with just the faintest hint of a smile: he’s really gorgeous to just look at.
“Kenma,” you coo. It’s your turn to stretch across, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. It’s still damp from the bath, lightly scented with your green tea shampoo. “You’re really pretty.”
He doesn’t even look up from his console, even as he nuzzles against your hand before you pull away. “You know, guys don't really like being called pretty.” he says casually.
“Oh yeah?” you rest on your elbows, watching him from just over the DS, admiring. “What should I tell you then? That you’re handsome?”
There’s a beat before triumphant music erupts from the handheld. Finally, Kenma looks up through his eyelashes, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. When he talks, there’s the edge of a toothy smile, like the cat that’s caught the canary.
“Tell me I make your pussy wet." He enunciates every word clearly, making sure to deliver his point.
“Kenma!” you snap his Nintendo DS closed, nearly catching his thumbs in the machine.
“What?” he pushes his foot forward until it rests against your pelvis, heel pressing against your clothed cunt. Those delicate eyes narrow into something more feline, something more hungry. “Pretty boys can’t get horny?”
cw: noncon everythingggg, manhandling, leather gloves, yan overhaul that wants to do freaky things to you
he never liked that you take jobs outside of the mansion every since you joined the family, but he finally snaps the day you come back covered in grime and dirt, leftovers of a scuffle from a negotiation gone wrong.
he demands to see you in his office. his tone, unfortunately, was one with no room for defience- in that mood where he kills people for even breathing wrong- so you go despite how your bruised, tired body begged for your bed.
when you get there, he’s a slender line of tension standing by a door. his usual coat is gone and his gloves are smooth leather, but you think nothing of it.
“step in here.” overhaul drones, a sharp nod to the door, and you walk over with a weary sigh.
“sir, if this is about the case, the client turned on us,” you justify as you turn the door handle. “chrono-aniki has all the details, i’m not much help-“
the room you step into is a cube of sterile white tiles from ceiling to floor, so pristinely clean that the shine of the tile momentarily blinds you. in fact, its blinding enough that you almost miss the filled up bathtub. the door behind you is slammed shut and dread cold as ice shoots up your spine when you hear the lock click.
you whirl around, coming face to face with overhaul’s burning glare locked on you. the shape of his plague mask makes him look like a vulture about to tear you to pieces.
“kai-“
“get in the tub.” his demand is harsh, one step forward to your step back.
“no, wait!” you plea, hands up in the space that slowly narrows the closer he stalks, the slow and measured pace of a predator. his eyes dart to your hands and you pray the dirt keeps him away. “this wasn’t my fault, i tried to keep things neat-“
he cuts you off. “i don’t want to hear your excuses. get. in. the. tub.”
“l-look- i promise i’ll go straight to my room and wash off! scrub until my skin bleeds! just- please. anything but this!”
that horrible look in his eyes doesn’t change and you know you have no other choice. you make a run for it but he catches before you can barrel past him. muffled grunt from under his mask, he shoves you back on track to your death row. his face is scrunched in pure disgust, so clearly repulsed to be doing this that it’s surprising how his skin hasn’t prickled up in hives- but his grip on you doesn’t falter no matter how much you struggle, fingers painfully digging into your arms to keep on track to your doom.
“kai, stop!”
“shut up” is all the warning he gives you before he shoves down.
it’s a miracle that you don’t hit your head on the tub’s edge and die. you splash right through the clouds of foamy white bubbles, into water just a few degrees away from scalding, and when you gasp in shock the strong scent of soap burns down your throat. overhaul holds you down still, your feet kicked uselessly out the edge of the tub while the rest of your body is submerged to your neck, clothes and all. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to drown you. you wish he was, because the threat he promised you weeks ago is about to be far worse.
“what joy do you get out of dealing with filth, hm?” overhaul is seething, venom in every word as his hands drag to your torso. they ride your shirt up, make your skin crawl from the warm and slippery and invasive leather touching you, searching for your insides.
“rolling around with those disgusting mutts, reducing yourself to their level of depravity- nothing i say gets through your thick skull, so I’m done talking some sense into you.”
“what sense!”
he ignores you. there’s a glint in his eyes of total concentration despite how mad he is. you even feel it in his hands, squeezing you until flesh mounds out between his fingers. it’s resolution to fully see this through. whatever you say is meaningless now. he planned this a long time ago.
“i’ll scrub you myself.” overhaul says with so much clarity and a slight softness in his voice that scares you ten times more than the harshness from before. “every single smudge. i’ll make you whole.”
“No-!” you thrash in the water, turning over to cling to the tub, try to drag yourself out, but those soaped up hands drag you right back in by the hips.
then your clothes start disintegrating off your body.
you squeal, sinking into the water to hide some of your dying modesty, but overhaul worms his hands between your body pressed into itself- one up your sternum, the other on your thigh, forcing you to un-pretzel yourself for his intrusion.
“stay still.” it’s the annoyed tone of someone bathing an unruly cat when you yowl and cry from every touch of his, going as far as to pinch under your boob to stun you into behaving. your body betrays you when he rubs and kneads into your muscles, so deep that you feel him in your bones. unwinds all of the knots and tension of the day, of the struggle to run out of this entire situation. shame sickeningly swirls in your gut when he presses down on a bruise just above your hip that robs a moan out of you, working the pain there into a dull throb. you hang your head in humiliation and fight to stay conscious when smooth fingers rub into your scalp and drag. you claw at porcelain to hold onto your sanity.
even that slips away from you once overhaul’s hands snake in between your legs. one firm rub of leather on your mound knocks you right out, until you’re putty in the hands of a man who won’t leave even an inch of your skin untouched.
thirty minutes later, you step into his office wrapped up in a fluffy towel- damp and fresh, in a far off daze. your body is buzzing all over and is so utterly clean, you almost feel brand new. you think you’ll never look at soap the same way anymore.
overhaul walks out behind you with a new set of clean white gloves after his freshly done cleaning.
“no more tracking dirt into the house. are we clear?”
you nod absentmindedly. your brain is jelly.
he sighs, something mixed between exhaustion and relief, and his hands are much gentler when they hold your shoulders, thumbs rubbing up your spine to the nape of your neck. your head lulls at that, into his plague mask- and the way he presses back is akin to a mother bird codling her nestling.
“good. i’ve organized a new room for you. you’ll have a better stay there.”
you nod again, letting yourself be dragged out of his office and in the suspicious direction of where his off limits living quarters are.
he’d put you in a fortified glass display if he could.
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