Just a girl that loves to write Batfam one shots and maybe going to start to write MHA one shots. REQUEST ARE OPEN MASTERLIST RULES THAT FAN ART IS NOT MINE
Synopsis : your beloved Boyfriend, Damian Wayne, sleeps like a corpse, literally.
Your beloved boyfriend—Damian Wayne—sleeps like a fucking corpse.
No exaggeration.
The first time you had witnessed your boyfriend’s resting form, you almost called for Alfred to ready the medical station. Fully convinced that he was either dead or on his way to be dead.
It was early on in your relationship. Yet, Damian was already fed up with you taking a guest room instead of staying in his.
So when you came over to spend the night at his home, he made sure to inform Alfred not to arrange any other accommodation for you.
You didn’t even fight him on it—much to his delight. It’s not like you weren’t always on him 24/7, sleeping in the same bed was just another opportunity for a cuddle session.
But nothing—absolute nothing—could have prepared you to the horror of waking up next to Damian at three in the morning.
He didn’t toss. He didn’t turn. He didn’t snore. No twitching or shifting either. Damian laid there on his sheets, flat on his back, hands folded over his stomach like an ancient monarch forever resting in an extravagant tomb.
His breathing was silent. Even the rise and fall of his chest was so slight, you could barely make it out in the darkened room.
To make matters even stranger, he wasn’t a deep sleeper. Quite the contrary, actually.
How did you find that out, you ask?
Simple; you made the mistake of extending your arm over, letting it hover hesitantly for a second before attempting to touch Damian’s shoulder.
Keyword being; attempted.
Your wrist was seized immediately in a blur of rapid movement. Green eyes narrowed at you in confusion, still heavy with the haze of sleep.
To say you were startled would be an understatement. You would have been a perfect addition to the carpets on the floor, if it wasn’t for the boy currently holding you in place.
He noticeably relaxed upon realizing that it was you trying to touch him. “Beloved, what are you doing awake?” He inquired, loosening his grip on you, assessing you for any injuries, signs of distress or discomfort, and anything else he should pay attention to.
“Checking for pulse.” You admitted, voice a little shaky from the heart attack his reflexes almost gave you. “You were like…dead.”
He stared down, clearly confused by your statement. “Habibti, I am very much alive.” He stated, smoothing his thumb over the erratic pulse fluttering against your wrist.
“You weren’t moving!” You hissed, dropping back onto the pillows with a dramatic groan. “You were lying there like a statue! Normal people breathe, Damian.”
He clicked his tongue—an audible ‘Tt’ that lacked any bite—as he shifted to lay on his side, facing you.
“Normal people don’t possess the ability to maintain environmental awareness while sleeping.” He spoke as if he were reading you a page from an encyclopedia—at which you side eyed him. “You should be proud, beloved. That means I can efficiently protect you, even while resting.”
You turned your head to look at him, distraught by the implications of his words—of course you knew that Damian would stop at nothing to keep you safe, even if it meant permanent harm to himself, or even flinging himself to his death.
Looking in your eyes, he anticipated the lecture you would give him; you would say he wasn’t obliged to protect you. That you don’t need that protection, and how he would be stupid to face his death just to save you from a flesh wound.
But he wasn’t protective of you because he thought you incapable of doing so yourself or because he was obligated to do so as your boyfriend. It was because he loved you, and to Damian loving someone meant giving his all.
Heart, body, and soul.
There was a reason he called you hayati—which means my life in Arabic.
Before you could start your rant, his hand was on you on your waist, hauling you flush against his chest.
“You are the worst.” You mumbled into his chest, though your hands instinctively came to wrap around him anyway, soaking in his warmth. “I was two seconds away from screaming for Alfred.”
“Pennyworth is well aware of my resting heart rate,” Damian countered, fingers slowly tracing shapes on your back. “Now, hayati. Cease your dramatic monitoring and go back to sleep.”
You let out a soft hum, closing your eyes as the steady thump... thump... thump of his heart reverberated right against your cheek.
A soft, reverent brush of his lips to your temple was all you felt, before slipping back into deep sleep.
Months had passed since that peculiar sleepover, and you had gotten somewhat used to Damian’s less than normal sleeping habits.
Yet again, what exactly was normal about your darling Damian?
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
a/n : greeting and salutations, moonbeams! (Idk just go with it) while browsing the ever so powerful Pinterest, i came across a comic panel of my beloved Dami sleeping like a literal corpse and then wrote this lol. I think it’s so funny and cute. Anyhow, I don’t think I am done with that idea tho, maybe I will write more about sleepy time intimacy because I think it’s so cute. As always, thank u for reading <3
Pairings: Fire Lord!Zuko x Fire Lady!Reader (Waterbender)
a/n: Grammar might be off, as I wrote this at work (I have too much downtime on my hands).
Masterlist | Zuko’s Masterlist
Shivers ran down Zuko’s spine as your fingers ran their course up his abdomen and chest, the tips of your nails ice cold in temperature difference.
You loved having this kind of sex with Zuko, where you’d both get off on one another’s abilities.
The iciness from your hands were a direct contrast from the warm hands of Zuko, gripping your thighs and waist.
You hovered over him, back arched as you pressed your bare breast against his check, leaving marks on his collarbones.
The robes would cover it.
“My love..” He groaned into your ears, moving his thigh up so you could grind your naked cunt on his leg. The sensation felt amazing, large hands pushing into your waist to guide you up and down. Soft whimpers left your lips, Zuko catching them with a kiss. You could get off just from this.
But you knew he wouldn’t let you.
It was as if read your thoughts, moving to flip your bodies so that he was on top. Steam began to collect in the air, a mixture of both of your temperatures.
The first time this happened, you could feel the electricity growing around you, Zuko unaware as he drove his hips into you relentlessly. It wasn’t until he felt the electric zaps on your skin when the two of you touched that he slowed his pace. Eventually the two of you learned to contain it, although for moments like this, it was bound to make an appearance.
The two of you had been separated for a little over 3 weeks, attending to your own personal duties as leaders of the nation. It wasn’t until Aang invited you over to the Air Temple to see its reconstruction that the two of you had seen each other. So when Katara showed you to your room, which happened to be on the opposite wing of where the others were staying, you were grateful. It was as if she read your mind.
That or Toph snitched.
Now it was the middle of the night, when you were sure everyone was sleeping, when the paperwork piles you brought with you had been sorted and tackled, giving you and Zuko more time for one another on this small getaway.
He began living hickies on your collarbones, matching the ones you left on him. His hair draped over your frames like a curtain, shielding you from the outside world, your only focus being him.
His thrusts became erratic, your hand tracing the scar on his face. He nuzzled his face into your palm in response, eyes fluttering shut.
“You’re so beautiful Zu.” You whispered softly, bringing his lips to yours in a soft his. He chased after your own when you pulled apart, fingers moving to your clit to rub firm circles, then moving to suck on the flesh of your breasts. Your leg had been hitched up to the higher portion of his back, a high pitched moan leaving your lips.
“I know, love. I know.” He stared directly into your eyes, that electricity that had once filled the air coming back again.
“Can’t control it.” He mumbled into your neck, the air growing thick. Your hands turned ice cold again, running up and down the expansion of his back.
“Spirits, you can’t-“ A laugh left your mouth, drawing his face to look at yours.
“I love you so much, Zu.”
“I love you more.” The room grew silent, the coil in your belly beginning to tighten.
“Zuko, I-“
“Go ahead my love, you deserve it. Let go.” A breathless moan left your lips, your body shuddering under the pleasure. Zuko followed suit, sparks flying across your skin as you came around him again, the contact overwhelming.
Slowly he pulled out of you, rolling into his back before disappearing to the washroom, grabbing a damp towel and heating it up with his hands. He cleaned you up, kissing the inside of your thighs along the way, and tossed the cloth somewhere in the room. You smiled at him, eye lids hooded, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull his body on to yours. You giggled as he flipped the two of you over, your body resting on top of his, leg swung over his waist, head resting on his chest.
“We’re going to need to draw a bath my love.”
“I know, but let’s just stay like this for a while.” Your fingers drummed softly on his chest, eyes fluttering shut.
You come home to find your husband working on a handmade gift.
Wc: 1.2k Fluff ~ Married AU ~ Post-timeskip
By the time you got home, you were exhausted. You had just finished a long patrol and wanted nothing more than to nap with your husband.
You completely forgot that it was valentine's day.
You unlocked the door and stepped inside, slipping off your shoes.
“Katsuki? I’m home!”
There was no answer.
You were pretty sure he wasn’t home yet, so you dropped your bag by the door and started walking towards the bathroom.
Then you heard it, a faint rustling sound coming from the dining room.
You stopped and slowly turned around, following the noise.
Another noise followed.
“...Fuck.”
Your eyebrows rose.
“Kats?”
You followed the sound.
Bakugo sat at the dining table with his back to you, so absorbed in whatever he was doing that he didn’t even notice you entering.
His hair was slightly messy, his sleeves were pushed up, and he was wearing the glasses he hated because they were “annoying”.
His elbows rested on the table as he stared intensely at something between his hands, his tongue poking slightly against his cheek and eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.
You smiled at the sight, thinking he looked adorable.
Then you looked at the table.
There were pipe cleaners everywhere.
Pipe cleaners of various pastel colours, scissors, beads, glue sticks, and scraps were scattered across the surface. Hix phone propped up against a mug, a tutorial playing quietly.
There were also several half-finished flowers. Or at least what you assumed were supposed to be flowers.
Then you noticed there were thin, translucent strings of it stretched across the table, and several dried blobs stuck to the surface caused by a hot glue gun you didn’t even know you owned.
You looked at Bakugo’s hands and realised his fingers were covered in it.
There was dried glue coating his fingertips, a long string connecting his thumb to his index finger, and even a tiny burn on the side of his thumb.
You stared.
What the hell was your husband doing?
You stepped closer.
“Katsuki?”
He didn’t reply so you leaned over his shoulder and finally saw what he was making, pipe-cleaner flowers.
They were terrible pipe-cleaner flowers.
One had three petals, another had five petals that were all completely different sizes.
There was also one that had a stem so long it looked ridiculous and the other had been crushed beyond recognition.
There were failed attempts scattered around the table and the one currently in his hands was a lopsided mess of pink and purple pipe cleaners held together by an excessive amount of hot glue.
You stared in awe, letting out a chuckle.
Bakugo finally noticed you.
His head snapped up, eyes widening.
“...WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO BE HOME LATE!”
You smiled.
“It’s 12am.”
Bakugo raised his eyebrows and paused the tutorial to check the time. He was completely unaware that so much time had passed.
“Anyways...What’cha doing? Are you making flowers?”
“Well no shit.”
He said in a gruff voice, no malice behind it.
You picked up one of the finished ones.
It was genuinely awful.
You pressed your lips together.
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Pff- I haven’t even said anything!”
“Your face is saying enough.”
You turned away, desperately trying not to laugh.
“Don’t fucking laugh.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re shaking.”
“Because I’m trying not to!”
He snatched the flower from your hands.
“Give me that.”
“Katsuki, are these for me~?”
His entire body froze, the tips of his ears turning red.
“No.”
“Then who are they for then, hm?”
“They’re for someone else.”
“Awwh~ So you’re giving handmade flowers to someone else? I’m hurt!”
You teased.
Katsuki quickly realised how that sounded.
“No I’m not. Shut up!”
Suddenly, a memory came rushing back.
A few months ago, the two of you had been sitting on the couch, your legs lazily laying over his when you came across a video of someone making pipe-cleaner flowers.
You immediately showed them to him.
“These are so cute don’tcha think?”
“They look stupid.”
“WHAT? They do not!!”
You’d continued watching the video, fascinated as the pipe cleaners twisted into little flowers.
“I think I’d actually prefer these to real flowers.”
That caught his attention.
“Why?”
You shrugged.
“Mmm… Probably because they last forever. Real flowers die eventually, but these don’t. I’d rather have something I can keep. I’d put it on my desk”
He only grunted in response.
You never thought about it again but Bakugo had.
You looked at the disaster covering his table.
“Oh... You remembered that?”
His gaze immediately dropped to the flower in his hands.
“You said you liked them.”
That was it.
No grand explanation, no elaborate romantic speech.
Just the fact that you said you liked them so he remembered.
Your expression softened.
“How many did you make?”
“Tch! It’s none of your business.”
“One… two… three…”
“Don’t.”
“Four… five…”
“I swear.”
“Six… seven…”
“STOP COUNTING! .”
“Ooo~ There are seventeen.”
“I SAID IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”
You picked up another flower, it was somehow worse than the first.
“Pfft. This one looks like it’s dying.”
“PUT IT DOWN.”
You burst out laughing.
“I’m just saying!”
“I KNOW IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT!”
Bakugo looked absolutely mortified.
There were flowers he'd abandoned halfway through. Ones he'd completely crushed. Ones that had clearly been taken apart and remade.
He would make one, decide it wasn’t good enough, and start again.
He started over and over again until seventeen failed flowers had accumulated around him.
Your laughter slowly faded.
You looked at his hands. athe glue stuck to his fingers, the little burn on his thumb and his sore-looking fingertips from twisting pipe cleaners over and over.
Your expression softened.
“You really tried...”
He immediately became defensive.
“Obviously I tried?!”
“Why?”
Bakugo stared at you like you’d asked the stupidest question imaginable.
“Because you wanted them?! What do you mean WHY?!”
Your heart squeezed.
You leaned down and kissed his cheek.
He immediately grumbled.
“OI! I’M WORKING!”
“My husband is making me flowers...“
“Don’t make it weird!”
You picked up the little bouquet he’d been working on.
“I’m keeping them forever.”
“You’re not keeping that ugly shit.”
“Too late~”
You carried them across the room and placed them on your desk beside your wedding photo.
When you turned around, Bakugo was staring at them.
He didn’t say anything but you caught the tiny smile tugging at his mouth.
Later that night, you lay together in bed, the little bouquet still visible from where you’d left it.
“Are you going to make me the same flowers next Valentine’s Day?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
You laughed.
“…Maybe.”
“Pfft. I knew it.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
You cuddled closer, resting your head against his chest.
“Thank you, Katsuki.”
“Tch! Whatever.”
“Are you going to make me the same flowers next Valentine’s Day?”
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
You laughed.
“…Maybe.”
“Pfft. I knew it.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
You cuddled closer, resting your head against his chest.
“Thank you, Katsuki.”
“Tch! Whatever.”
A moment passed.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Bakugo said quietly.
You smiled.
“I love you.”
You tilted your head up.
His face was red.
“…Love you too.”
Your eyes drifted towards the flowers one last time.
ᯓ★ +18! ★ Jon accidentally on purpose overhears his two best friends doing it. I'm aware this isn't how super-hearing works. Great title I know thank you. ★ᯓ
Jon’s always been a well-mannered young man. It’s been said by his parents, teachers, professors, bosses, random people he meets on the street, and he always believed that himself, until now.
Because if that was the case, then why can’t he fly away? Far enough so he can’t hear his two best friends going at it like rabbits.
He’s just been floating a few feet above the roof of your apartment building, stock still ever since he zoomed over five minutes ago.
He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t mean to, but when he first heard your groan he thought you were hurt. Then he picked up the quiet sucking and even the faint sound of your slick.
You let out a sound that was far more lewd than the first and Jon’s hand shot up to cover his mouth, as if there was anyone around to hear the man’s sharp intake of breath.
Sheets rustle and Jon imagines you clutching the fabric between your fingers. He hears a lewd slurp and imagines Damian right between your thighs, lapping and sucking at just the right places.
Jon’s fists clench at his sides when he hears your moans grow louder and a little higher. Sheets shuffle and he pictures your back arching off the bed, grinding up into his best friend’s face.
You groan his name so unabashedly, in a way Jon never dared to consider you could. You sound like you’ve been waiting for this all day and your boyfriend’s finally giving it to you and giving it well.
Jon can almost see it, your fingers in his friend’s dark hair, your thighs squeezing around his head as you cum around his apparently deft fingers and skilled mouth.
He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of you two like this before. You were a hot couple and you were both such good friends to him.
You’d always ask him to tag along on what could’ve been dates between just the two of you; you invited him to sleep overs where you’d both squish him between you on the couch and you’d cook dinners with him at your apartment. You'd bring him along on vacations, to the park, the beach, the movies.
You've done an array of things with him that you could’ve just done as a couple but instead chose to invite him along because you’re both such good friends to him-- even if Damian can’t admit it outright most of the time.
It’s only natural then, that he’d think about what other couple things you’d want him to participate in...right?
How was he supposed to constantly see the way you look at Damian and not imagine you looking at him the same way? How was he not supposed to imagine Damian giving him gentle little touches like he did with you. Honestly, his restraint so far has been admirable.
Now all that’s out the window. He just heard Damian make you cum on his tongue and as red as his face probably is, he’s not flying an inch further away from your apartment like he should.
All he can hear are soft kissing sounds and you trying to even out your breathing, and suddenly, a new wave of guilt hits him.
He doesn’t even want to think about what he’ll do with his hard-on but he has to leave. He runs his hands through his already wild hair, trying to will himself to move. The moment is so tender and quiet, he wants nothing more than to be in that room.
Then he hears fabric shuffling and a belt buckle hit the floor.
“Look at me, Hayati.“
It’s such a simple, gentle command yet it has both you and Jon at attention. He hears the bed creak, a short silence.
“Just keep your eyes on me.”
You reply with a breathy, “'kay.“
There’s a pause before you let out a choked groan, and then a wet squelch. Jon has to squeeze his thighs together when he imagines his friend bottoming out in his other friend’s soaked heat, their eyes never straying from the other's.
“So good to me, Beloved.”
And now that his lips are free, Jon makes a new world-shattering discovery: Damian’s a talker.
“Ya Rouhi, I’d be a happy man if all I ever lived for was to pleasure you.”
His voice is thick, accompanied by your soft sounds of pleasure and the slow, slick plaps that make it to Jon’s red ears.
“I’ll always give you everything, Hayati. You deserve more than I can give.“
You both let out deep grunts in time with his steadily increasing pace. The sheets shuffle and Damian must have switched the position up because you curse and cry out.
“I’m yours in every way and I know you’re mine.”
It must be beautiful, Jon thinks, Damian’s lidded eyes matching yours, your hips matching his thrusts, bodies sticking together, shared breaths. Jon ignores the worsening wet spot in his underwear, his suit feeling tight on his growing hardness.
He holds his breath so he can better hear the exact moment you and Damian cum together. Maybe you’re still locking eyes, maybe your foreheads are pressed together, but all he can hear is your mixed moans and the stalling of your hips as Damian fills you up.
Once more, the only thing left to hear after the high is soft kissing and harsh breaths. Nothing but Damian’s husky,
“I love you, Hayati.”
Between kisses and your croaked hum in return, “Love you too, babe. S'good to me.”
You mumble the sweetest praises in-between kisses and Jon can hear Damian’s heart beat a bit faster, can hear the sheets shuffle as he imagines the man shoving his face into his girlfriend’s neck at such sweet words being uttered to him. You always did say he was a secret sap, not that it was much of a secret between you three, but Jon only realises now just how true that really is.
As the moment grows quieter, Jon’s guilt only grows again. The sound of the city comes rushing back and his head spins around the various apartment buildings around him as if someone could’ve possibly known what he was doing.
Regardless, he can’t stay here, listening to your extremely private moment. There's no pretense of shock keeping him here anymore, he's just being a creep! No better than a criminal!
Unbeknownst to Jon, both you and Damian heard his distinct sonic boom when he flew off and you’re now staring at each other with matching wide eyes.
You’re the first to break the silence with a laugh, shoving your face in your hands. “You don’t think he...?”
Damian runs a hand through his hair with a groan that doesn't hide his embarrassment.
“I told him he should come over today.”
“And you forgot?!”
“I was distracted.”
---Then poor Jon jerks off to his bffs and then cries because he feels bad about it. 😭💔
꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ katsuki always wondered what the hell his father saw in his old hag of a mother. it takes twenty years, a nasty fight with you, a near-death experience, and a trip to the hospital before he finally gets it
── ✶ word count: 5.8k words ; my drabbles always do this bro
── ✶ before you read: female reader ; pro hero bakugou ; established relationship ; arguing ; (temporary) relationship troubles ; injuries + villain attacks + hospitals (bakugou) ; tame angst with a happy ending! ; communication + resolving arguments ; bakugou’s father makes an appearance ; fluff and banter at the end ; masterlist.
꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ at the end of the day i will never not be a sucker for the trope where u argue just before a major life threatening incident occurs
It’s 9:32 PM when Katsuki begrudgingly leaves his patrol area and finally calls it quits for the night.
Patrol was supposed to end an hour and thirty-two minutes ago, but he’s been dragging his feet ever since. Taking the long route. Responding to calls that technically aren’t under his jurisdiction. Circling blocks he’s already cleared twice. Anything to kill time. It’s only when Kirishima actively tells him to get the fuck out and stop interfering with his villain count for the night that Katsuki finally accepts defeat and ends his workday.
Ending his workday means going home. And if he goes home, you’ll be there. And if you’re there, he’ll be reminded of your nasty argument from the other night. And if he thinks about that argument, he’ll have to face the fact that the two of you are still stubbornly refusing to speak to one another until the other apologizes first. It’s a ridiculous standoff—an unnecessary one, and he knows it. But neither of you seems particularly interested in ending it, and now his own apartment has somehow become the last place he wants to be. Every room feels charged with an uncomfortable tension. The living room is awkward. The kitchen is unbearable. Even lying down beside you at night feels weird, so Katsuki would rather avoid the whole thing if he can help it.
If he gets home late enough, you’ll already be asleep. Then he can shower, crawl into bed, and pretend the situation doesn’t exist for a few more hours. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind, but unfortunately, thanks to fucking Shitty-Hair, he has no choice but to head home and hang up his costume.
And judging by the lights still glowing through the windows of his apartment, his luck has officially run out. You’re still awake. Of course.
He trudges in, and there you are—sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, staring directly at him with your arms crossed and an infuriated glare on your face as you fix him with narrowed eyes. Great.
“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” you hiss without missing a beat.
Katsuki should’ve known you’d start nagging the second he walked through the door. Hell, he should’ve turned around and just left the moment he saw the lights on instead of coming in.
“S’not even ten,” he grumbles, kicking his boots off. “Would you fuckin’ drop it—”
“You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago!” Your voice rings through the apartment, sharp and incredulous, and Katsuki is so tired. So exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this nonsense right now, of all times.
“Yeah, well. Now I’m home. There you go.”
The dismissal only seems to make you angrier. Katsuki practically watches the steam start pouring from your ears as you shoot to your feet, hands planting firmly on your hips. And he just knows your voice is about to get louder.
“That’s it?” you practically screech. He fucking knew it. “You’re out on patrol for an extra two hours, and I hear nothing from you—not even a text saying, I’ll be home late. I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, wondering what the fuck happened, or if you’re okay, and all you can say is now you’re home? Do you just get off on being an asshole or something, Katsuki?”
His shoulders tense immediately as he fixes you with an equally hard glare. There goes his wish for a peaceful, conflict-avoidant night. Of course, as always, you have to drag the conflict right to him and drop it at his feet, spike his temper, and make it ruin his evening. A simple shower and a good night’s sleep was all he wanted. But things are never quite that easy—not with you.
Katsuki feels a dull throb start behind his eyes as he shoots back, “What, was your phone broken or some shit? What exactly held you at gunpoint and stopped you from sendin’ me a text and asking, huh?”
Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not laughin’, am I? Definitely no jokes here.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, and he snorts. There’s no humor behind the sound, however.
“Yeah, that’s real mature.”
“Oh no—you don’t get to tell me about what’s mature and what isn’t. Cause if you wanna talk about what’s mature, it’s not disappearing for two hours and acting like I’m insane for being worried!”
“I wasn’t disappearing, I was fuckin’ doing my job.”
“You were supposed to be done with that job hours ago!”
“Well, I wasn’t!”
“You have a smart little answer for everything, don’t you, Katsuki?” you smile sarcastically, “just think you’re so smart and above it all, huh?”
Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the headache that’s been creeping on him, or the rage, or the pure adrenaline in his system, but he does know that for a short, fleeting second, all he saw was red.
“Holy fuck, do you ever listen to yourself?”
Your expression hardens instantly. “No, I think you should listen to yourself. You might hear an idiot if you do.”
The apartment goes quiet. Dangerously quiet.
“You know what?” he says coldly, “forget this. I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep—I’ve dealt with enough bullshit tonight—”
You throw your hands in the air, exasperated. There is a flash of hurt on your face that makes his chest ache, but the sharp stab of pain doesn’t last for long because as quickly as his heart bleeds, his mind makes him forget. It only lets him focus on the anger and the irritation and the way you’ve ruined his night, just like you ruined the one before.
“Every single time I tell you something bothers me, you act like it’s a personal attack, and then you just dismiss me like I don’t matter—”
“Maybe I wouldn’t dismiss shit if every conversation with you didn’t turn into a fuckin’ laundry list of grievances you got with me!”
“You only take everything I say as a complaint because you refuse to communicate!”
“Because not everything needs to be a damn discussion like we’re in therapy!”
“Right,” you laugh bitterly. “Silly me. God forbid I expect basic consideration from you.”
Something ugly flashes across his face. He knows it. Katsuki knows that when he’s mad, he turns ugly—he’s always been that way. It’s the only way he knows how to be. For the longest time, he thought you were the only person he could hide it from. That you were the only person he could fight the urge to get ugly from because you are just that special.
But Katsuki is who he is, and he’s learned that he’s a special kind of ugly just for you.
“Basic consideration?” he barks. “You’re sayin’ I’m not considerate?”
“No, sometimes you fucking aren’t and—”
“Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich! I break my back every day keeping this city safe—”
“Well, if the city is the only thing you can be considerate for, why the fuck are you even here?”
It’s silent as soon as the words leave your mouth. Katsuki goes completely still. He can feel it the second it happens—the way his expression shuts down. The way the anger drains out of his face and leaves behind something colder. Something worse. Something so ugly, he has to get out of here before you see it and realize he isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth you.
“Yeah,” His voice is flat. “Why am I here, right? You know, you can just tell me to leave next time, it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier for you.”
“Katsuki—”
“No.” He grabs the strap of his duffel bag that carries his guantlets from where he’d dropped it by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he bends down to lace his boots up again.
“Katsuki, that’s not what I meant.”
“Sure.”
“I was angry—”
“Clearly, you’re always fuckin’ angry at me. I’m always doin’ something the fuck wrong, aren’t I? Nothin’ I do is enough?”
Stop, stop, stop. His mind is screaming, begging him not to do this. To get out. To leave and fight that hideous part of him down until he’s far enough that you never, ever have to see it.
“Katsuki, don’t do this right now—”
“Do what?” His voice rises more than it should. Stop—stop now. But he can’t. The ugliest of him is already taking surface and showing his truest of colors. “What exactly am I supposed to say here, huh?” You flinch. He needs to fucking stop, but he doesn’t. “Because apparently, when I stay late to save people, I’m an asshole. When I’m home, I’m an asshole. I breathe, I’m an asshole. I exist, I’m an asshole.”
“That’s not—”
“So what’s the answer?” His laugh is bitter and so, so cold that he doesn’t recognize this version of himself. Not with you. He wants to stop desperately, but he can’t. Because Katsuki is an ugly, hideous, despicable person deep down. No amount of heroism on the surface can hide that part of him that’s on the inside, not from you. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, you tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”
“Katsuki, let’s just sit down and—”
He shakes his head. For a second, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt for you. Stop, stop, stop— “Y’know what? I’m done.”
His hand closes around the doorknob, and your voice comes out shaky and panicked as you whisper, “Katsuki, please just sit down and—”
“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit anymore.”
Then he yanks the door open and walks right back out, slamming it hard enough behind him to rattle the picture frames on the wall.
────────────────────────
Katsuki is six when he first asks his father what the fuck the old man even sees in the hag that is his mother. He remembers the conversation vividly.
“Dad, why did you marry Mom? She’s grumpy and old, and she yells all the time,” little Katsuki asks, crossing his tiny arms over his chest. “Why d’you even like her?”
Masaru nearly chokes on his tea. “Katsuki,” he coughs. “Your mother isn’t old. You shouldn’t say that—it’s rude.”
“But she is,” he huffs. “She smells like an old lady, too.”
“Well, if she’s old, then I’m even older,” Masaru points out, taking another sip. “So that can’t be a very good reason not to like her.”
“Well, she’s mean.”
“She’s not mean,” his father chuckles, thoroughly amused.
No matter how many times he sees it, Katsuki doesn’t understand it—the way his father gets that dumb, starry-eyed look whenever Mitsuki comes up. She’s always in a bad mood, and if she isn’t, she’s probably due for one within the next thirty minutes. Why his father would choose to marry such a sour lady is completely beyond his six-year-old comprehension.
“She yelled at me this morning,” he sulks.
“You tried to use your explosions inside the house,” Masaru reminds him, leveling him with a pointed look. “We talked about that. Rules are rules for a reason, young man.”
Katsuki pouts harder. His father is supposed to take his side.
“But she still yelled. And it was mean,” he argues back stubbornly. Masaru only smiles into his tea, shaking his head with fond amusement. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Katsuki presses again, “So what do you even like about her?”
The question seems to catch Masaru off guard. He pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s funny.”
Katsuki blinks. His father cannot possibly be serious. “Mom?”
“Yes.”
“She’s funny?”
“Very.”
“No, she isn’t,” Katsuki says immediately, deeply offended by the blatant lie.
Masaru laughs, “She is.” Katsuki stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind. Masaru only smiles wider. “She’s honest, too. You always know what she’s thinking.”
“That’s because she says whatever she thinks.”
“Exactly.”
“And she says it loud.”
“That’s true.”
“She says it really loud, Dad.”
Masaru nods solemnly, sighing. “Also very true, son.”
“She should shut up,” Katsuki huffs. His father fixes him with a stern look at that, and he shrinks back just a little.
“We do not say that about our mother, Katsuki.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes but slumps deeper into his chair all the same. “Fine.”
“Your mother is wonderful,” his father says. “She works hard. She cares about people. She loves our family—she loves us. One day, you’ll see that. And when you do, I think you’ll appreciate her a lot more.”
Katsuki picks at the food on his plate, turning the words over in his head.
His mother does love him—he knows that much, even if she is annoying. She remembers all the snacks he likes and somehow always comes home with them without him ever having to ask. Whenever he asks for money, she gives him more than he requested—even if it usually costs him an irritatingly painful pinch to the cheek. She wakes up early to bathe him despite complaining about losing sleep because he prefers morning baths to evening ones.
His mother loves him; he knows that to be true. But it’s only true because she is his mother, and he is her son. Mothers love their sons—it’s the rules. Why his father would willingly choose to love that woman remains completely incomprehensible, however, in his mind.
“Mom is super annoying,” he says bluntly.
Masaru’s smile softens. “I suppose sometimes she can be, yes.”
“See?” Katsuki perks up immediately, his entire face screaming, gotcha!
“But,” Masaru continues, “I’m sure I annoy her, too.”
Katsuki deflates on the spot.
More than that, he simply cannot imagine such a thing being possible. His father is calm and nice and makes good food. Katsuki thinks lots of women would like his father—women who also would not find Masaru annoying. The only person allowed to find Masaru annoying is Katsuki himself, and that’s because his father makes rules that Katsuki has to follow. He thinks he’s earned that right.
His mother, however, has no such excuse.
“She gets annoyed with you?” he asks incredulously.
“Of course. Every day, I’m sure there’s something I do that annoys her at least a little.”
“Then why does she like you?”
Masaru thinks for a moment, carefully choosing his words, trying to explain this odd phenomenon that is love. “Because loving someone isn’t about finding a person who never annoys you,” he says finally. “It’s about finding someone who still sees your value even when you’re annoying. Someone who chooses you anyway. Does that make sense?”
His nose wrinkles immediately. “No.” His father stifles a chuckle when Katsuki adds, “That sounds dumb.”
“Maybe,” Masaru hums, eyeing him with bright, endeared eyes.
“I’m not gonna marry someone annoying when I’m all big. Because I’m smart!”
That earns him a full laugh from his father. It’s the kind of laugh that makes Masaru lean forward and wipe at the corner of his eye. In fact, he laughs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “You say that now,” his father says, setting his mug down, “but that’ll change. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“No, I won’t,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t appreciate that he’s not being taken seriously.
“I think you will, son.”
“I definitely won’t.”
Masaru only smiles. He looks at Katsuki the way adults always do when they think he’s young and silly and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Katsuki hates that look. He’s smart—excellent, even. Just the other day, he caught his teacher’s mistake during subtraction when nobody else in his class noticed. At this rate, he’s well on his way to being smarter than most adults.
He absolutely knows what he’s talking about.
“Well, we’ll just have to see, Katsuki. If I’m right, you’ll take me out for ramen someday. Deal?”
“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, puffing out his chest confidently. “But you’ll never see that ramen.”
────────────────────────
Twenty years later, Katsuki sometimes wonders if he’s going to have to admit he was wrong and take the old man out for ramen after all.
You are, without question, the most annoying, irritating, vein-popping individual he has ever met. It’s like every decision you make is carefully calculated to inconvenience him specifically.
He has to keep an extra jacket in his car because you never check the weather before leaving the house. He has to double-check your grocery lists before you go shopping because if he doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget the one thing you actually need. He has to make sure you take your vitamins. Every night, he has to remind you to take your makeup off before bed because, apparently, that responsibility has become his problem—and if you wake up the next morning with mascara smeared under your eyes because you didn’t listen to him, then somehow you still find a way to blame him for not wiping it for you.
You are annoying. Every single fucking day, you annoy him. You annoyed him yesterday. You’ve annoyed him today. You’ll annoy him tomorrow. And he’ll tell you exactly that—he’ll call you a dumbass, and tell you to get your life together. Complain about the ridiculous thing you did this time, and accuse you of going out of your way to make his life harder on purpose. But after that, despite it all, he will still love you.
Twenty years later, now that he’s older, Katsuki realizes he understands what his father meant. That loving someone doesn’t happen because they never annoyed him—loving someone happens because they annoyed him, and he still, despite that, sees nothing but the good.
He loves you. You are annoying and drive him up a wall, but Katsuki knows that you are good. The greatest good that there might ever be, and he might have just ruined it. He probably fucked it all up and lost all the good he had. All the good he’s ever wanted. All the good that he’s wanted to keep for the rest of his life and cherish.
The second the apartment door slams shut behind him, Katsuki regrets it. He regrets being the reason behind that look on your face. That brief flash of panic in your eyes right before he left. That way that your voice sounded when you said his name.
He can’t get it out of his head as he walks out of your building. “Fuck,” He runs a hand through his hair and keeps walking.
The only friends he’d willingly see right now are working, his parents are definitely sleeping (and would ask too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, even if they weren’t), and he is nowhere near calm enough to go back upstairs and just go home.
But his patrol route is still active. So instead of going home and into bed like a normal person who has morning patrol, Katsuki leaves his apartment building behind and heads toward work.
By the time he gets suited up again, it’s almost eleven. By the time it’s midnight, he’s still out. By the time it’s 1 AM, he should call it a night.
Instead, however, he keeps moving. One more block turns into one more street. Anything to keep himself from going home or thinking about the argument. About the way you looked at him. About the things he said. About the shit he ruined for sure.
His thoughts are loud enough in his head, turning him deaf to everything else. He misses things he normally wouldn’t—things like suspicious shadows and warning shouts from another hero.
By the time Katsuki realizes what’s happening for what it is, the villain goes down easily enough—too easily. He curses himself for being so naive, so rash. He’s been fighting as a pro for years. He was a war veteran before he was even a legal adult, for crying out loud. Still, despite all that, the second Katsuki realizes something is wrong, it’s already too late.
The construction site groans around him—metal screeches against metal, and his head snaps upward. All he sees is the upper half of the structure collapsing before he loses his balance and collapses with it.
“Shit—”
The explosion leaves his palms a fraction of a second too late, and he doesn’t go propelling forward the way he’s supposed to. The half-built building comes down, and Katsuki goes down with it.
Then everything goes dark.
────────────────────────
It’s 2 AM when you see it on the news. Kirishima sends you a text asking if you’d heard what happened, and by the time you’ve spammed him with messages asking what the hell he was even talking about, he’s gone silent. Something in your gut knows that he’s not answering because he’s too busy rescuing. Too busy being a hero.
Your heart tells you that the person he has to be a hero to tonight just so happens to be Katsuki.
The first report you see hits the news at 2:13 AM. The anchor’s voice is as smooth and polished as ever as she delivers the words that send your whole world crumbling around you.
“We are receiving breaking reports of a major incident involving Pro Hero Dynamight.”
The footage that floods the screen makes you fall to your knees and muffle your sobs behind a shaky palm—collapsed concrete and emergency responders and heroes rushing in and out of the wreckage. The camera zooms toward the ruined construction site, and Katsuki’s body is nowhere to be seen on the screen. You don’t quite know if that’s a good thing or bad.
“Dynamight was reportedly responding to a villain incident when a structural collapse occurred. We are told he is trapped beneath the rubble. Emergency responders are currently on the scene, conducting rescue operations.”
At 2:37 AM, the hospital gives you a call as his emergency contact. You’re sick to your stomach, not sure how you’ll make the drive there when Kirishima finally texts you again.
Kiri <3: I already told his parents. They’re on their way so don’t worry about it
Kiri <3: One of my sidekicks is outside your apartment. They’ll drive you down there
Kiri <3: I still have to handle the aftermath and finish patrol so I won’t be there I’m sorry
Kiri <3: Keep me updated?
You: Don’t apologize Kiri idk what I’d do without u
You: Thank you and pls be safe
You: I’ll lyk things as soon as I find out
Kiri <3: Take it easy okay?
Kiri <3: He’s come back from worse. It’ll be alright
——
Kirishima’s sidekick gets you to the hospital efficiently, but you are still at your wits’ end by the time you can rush out of the passenger seat and bolt through the sliding doors.
Some part of you is grateful you didn’t have to drive here yourself because you know you would’ve sped dangerously over the limit, missed half the red lights, and probably would’ve gotten yourself pulled over. At the same time, you wish you could’ve been the one behind the wheel, just to get here faster.
“I’m here to see Kats—um, Dynamight,” you say in a rush. “Dynamight…I meant Dynamight.”
The woman at the front desk looks at you with a raised eyebrow, already typing away at her screen as she blandly says, “Valid ID, please.”
You curse under your breath, fumbling through your purse for your wallet, and then fumbling through your wallet for your ID like your hands suddenly don’t belong to your body anymore.
When you practically shove it toward her in your haste, she takes it too calmly for your racing heart and inspects it for a moment. Then looks at her screen. Then back to your ID. Then she types for what feels like an agonizing eternity before she finally hands the card back and says, “Fourth floor, room twelve. He’s stable, but he has some serious injuries that they’ll have to monitor and heal slowly due to his stamina—”
You’re already moving before she finishes. You’re bolting toward the elevators, heart slamming so hard it hurts. The ride up to the fourth floor is torturously slow. When you finally get out of the elevator, you’re halfway down the hallway before you even register the security guard stepping in front of you.
“ID.” Again. Of course. You suppose it is a good thing security is tight for the pro hero unit—even if it does add to your piling weight of anxiety. When you clumsily pull it yet again, he checks it for another cruelly long stretch of time, glancing between the card and the device in his hands before finally saying, “Go ahead.”
You’re already moving.
By the time you reach room twelve, your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself still. For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. Would Katsuki even want to see you? Is he fed up with you? Would you just make his already terrible night even worse?
You aren’t sure.
You don’t know why you’re in the predicament you’re in right now. You don’t know how you got here or why things escalated the way that they did. You don’t know what you do wrong to push his buttons the way you seem to, to upset him the way that he gets. You think you’re doing the right thing—that you’re doing what’s right for both of you—but somehow, you always seem to mess it up. Always seem to say the wrong thing. Always seem to ruin whatever good the two of you have managed to build between you.
But you love Katsuki, and if nothing else, you know that he loves you too, and you need to see him. So you force down the bile in your throat and push the door open. The first thing you notice when you see him is the bandages wrapped tightly around him. One arm heavily secured in a cast. Gauze lining his shoulder and collarbone that makes your stomach drop in a sick, immediate lurch. Machines hum quietly beside him, keeping track of his vitals.
You never see Katsuki hurt like this—he’s always been practically invincible when he’s on the field, always taking things down before they have a chance at even touching him. And then your brain, cruelly, supplies the thought: but he is not invincible. Not always.
“Katsuki,” you whisper, eyes already welling with tears.
He’s looking at you the second the door opens—but his tired eyes soften with relief, just a little, when they land on you. “You came,” he says, voice rough.
“Of course I came,” you say, sharper than you mean to. How could he think you wouldn’t? How far have you let things go that he could genuinely believe you wouldn’t show up for him? “What the hell happened?”
He sighs, almost embarrassed. “Just…work ‘n shit.”
You sniffle, and he lifts his good arm toward you. That’s all it takes.
You’re at his side in an instant, squeezing into the small space beside him on the hospital bed and curling yourself against his chest. You’re careful not to disturb any of the machines surrounding him, but you can’t stop thinking about how wrong this feels. How you shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. How he’s the one lying in a hospital bed, yet somehow he’s still the one rubbing your back and soothing your tears.
“I thought you were gonna die,” you sob. “I—I saw the rubble, and Kiri stopped texting back and...and I thought you got crushed.”
“M’not fuckin’ dying, babe,” he huffs, sounding mildly offended. “A stupid building isn’t killin’ me. That’s a dumbass way to go.”
“You don’t know that,” you shake your head. “You can’t promise that.”
“Listen—”
“And I was sitting there watching the news and thinking the last conversation I ever had with you was that stupid fight,” you continue, looking up at him with trembling lips.
His eyes soften. “I know, but—”
“And I don’t care about the argument anymore,” you say, your voice shaking harder now. “I don’t care about being right or winning or being apologized to first—I should’ve texted you, you’re right. You...you probably felt like I didn’t care, but I do. I care so much, and I love you more than anything.”
You take a breath that does absolutely nothing to steady you. Katsuki is trying to wipe your tears away with one weak arm.
“I love you too—”
“I just want you to talk to me,” you sob. “I know I’m annoying, and I nag and scold and get onto you all the time, and I’m trying not to do that as much—really, I am! But I just...I wish you’d tell me things, too. Y’know? I am the one person you’re supposed to do that with, Katsuki,” you add, your voice cracking all over again. “But sometimes, it feels like I’m the last person you want to do that with.”
His expression tightens. “That’s not—”
“And I want us to work because I’ve never liked someone so much—it stresses me out. Because I love you and I want this to work, and the thought of it not working makes me so anxious I wanna throw up, and...and you act like talking to me is harder than getting crushed under a fucking building—”
“Baby.” He squeezes your cheeks together and silences you as he pulls your face closer, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. “You talk a lot, y’know that?”
You huff at him immediately, tears spilling down your cheeks even faster. “That is so rude, given the—”
“I’m sorry about the fight,” he interrupts. You pause, and he takes the opportunity to keep going, despite looking painfully uncomfortable the entire time. “And for...walkin’ out ‘n shit. That was fucked up. I don’t talk to you like I should. You’re right. S’weird for me, and I hate it sometimes. I don’t know how to just...say shit like you do. Okay?” He sighs. “But m’gonna try more because you’re right—I need to talk to you. But you gotta get outta your head so much—” He gives your forehead a small jab with his finger. You sniffle and swat his hand away with a watery scowl. It earns the faintest grin from him. “We’re gonna work,” he says. “’Cause we do. That’s all there is to it, okay?”
“But—”
“No buts,” he grumbles. “My ribs hurt. Jus’ let me be right.”
A watery laugh escapes you as you shake your head, cupping his bandaged face between your hands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, Katsuki.”
“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “So are you. Still love you, though.”
“Me too,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Love you so much.”
He pulls you back down against his chest again, rubbing your back as you listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You trace small patterns into his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. And things are okay—they are not beyond repairing. You’ll inevitably annoy him tomorrow, and he’ll annoy you the day after that, but you’ll still work. You will still find a way to keep things good the way they always are.
After a few quiet moments, he mumbles, “Hey.” When you look up, he says, “When m’all healed and shit, you gotta force me to go grab ramen with my old man. On me.”
────────────────────────
Katsuki waits almost a month after being discharged from the hospital before he finally makes the call. He’s been trying to stall it for as long as possible, but Katsuki, even at the tender age of six, has always been a man (or boy) of his word. He’s standing alone on the balcony outside his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear, wondering if it’s too late to hang up before the call goes through.
It rings twice. Then his father’s voice is as gentle and cheery as ever. “Katsuki!” Masaru answers immediately. “Hi, son!”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey.”
His father laughs. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I got discharged, didn’t I? S’been a whole month.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sounding just like your usual self,” his father says. Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’.”
“Katsuki, you never call for just nothing.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh—it’s now or never. He can’t keep stalling, and Katsuki is, and always has been, a man of his word. If he promised his father ramen over a stupid bet he made twenty years ago, then he’s going to get his father that ramen. Even if it kills his pride. Demolishes it, even.
“Listen, I was thinkin’...maybe we could grab food sometime.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Masaru hums. “Let me ask your mother when she’s free and—”
“Not the hag. S’just you,” he cuts in, rubbing at his temple.
“Oh?” Masaru sounds amused. “Well, okay. I suppose it’d be nice to spend some time as just father and son. What kind of food?”
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Just say it. Just fuckin’ say it, his mind urges. Just rip the bandage off and say it. Say it. Say the damn word—he grits his teeth and forces out, “Ramen.”
There’s a pause on the other end. The silence stretches on long enough that Katsuki’s eye twitches.
“Ramen, huh?” Masaru finally says, and the way he says it makes a vein all but pop in Katsuki's forehead.
“Old man,” he says warningly, “don’t push it—”
He’s cut off when Masaru starts laughing. “I was wondering when this day would come.”
“Hah? You really kept that shit in your head for twenty years?”
“Of course I did. It was one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with you.”
“Why? ‘Cause you love bein’ fuckin’ right all the time?” Katsuki grumbles.
His father’s voice softens as he says fondly, “No. I just wanted you to find someone who made you as happy as your mother makes me. That’s all I wanted, son—for you to understand what being happy is like.”
The conversation is getting oddly sentimental, taking a turn that makes his chest feel strange, and his heart feel far too fragile. He hasn’t felt like this since after the war, and he doesn’t intend to sit with it any longer. So he mutters, “I still think Mom’s annoying. She yelled at me last week, so she never fuckin’ changes.”
Masaru laughs again. “No, she doesn’t.” Then, after a moment, “So, how does Saturday sound for some ramen?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“Will my son be paying?”
Katsuki regrets this call more than anything when he says, “Yes. I’m fuckin’ paying.”
“You know, son,” Masaru murmurs, making Katsuki pause, “I’m glad you get it now. You’ve grown into a fine man.”
Katsuki swallows hard. He turns, eyeing you as you sleep soundly in your shared bed, hugging his pillow to make up for his absence. He can only hope that his father’s words are true—that he is a fine man to you, the way his father always has been to his mother. His eyes never leave your figure as he mutters, “Yeah, well…s’not like I had a bad example or somethin’.”
so anyway i had an argument with my bf the other day but he did not get into an accident and he did not get injured so dont worry. the argument was technically my fault, but im cute and he loves me so its okay <3
the one where bruce wayne manipulates you into being his domme
everyone has kinks, thats not the problem - the issue is that a man like bruce wayne, a hero like the batman, that comes with its expectations- with stereotypes
everyone believes that a man who so anally wants everything under control, a man who has backups for backups would be hard, dominating in control everywhere in his life
except... that's just not the case
he wants he needs to lose control, let go, desperately wants someone to tell him what to do, how to be, give him praise for everything he does
but no one ever thinks he is that man- so he does what he'd never admit to. would probably take it to his grave. he manipulates you, trains you on a subconscious level to become his domme.
it starts small enough. he purposefully doesn't rest, runs himself ragged until you ask him to rest. he disagrees but as a teammate, you insist, so he sighs and nods, resting for just a bit
it spurs you on, that he listened! how wonderful!
these small things keep going, "when did you last eat" followed by "nnhhh not hungry" which leads to "please eat something, B." and he sighs, his lips pressed into a thin line but he does it. he goes and he eats something and you smile brightly.
it continues to "did you go to the medbay" after the missions which he says to "don't need to" but you tug at his wrist and look up at him with big eyes.
he feels himself shattering every time but he has to stay strong- you're not there yet- you're not controlling him enough yet. your concern and kindness is still full of boundaries and not forceful enough for him.
he wants you to break him. tell him what he's supposed to do, when he's supposed to eat and sleep, and hopefully, when he's supposed to cum.
the days turn into months and he knows he knows he knows he's supposed to be patient and careful. he can't rush this. he has to play it carefully. pull you into the role naturally. make you feel like you were made for this. for him.
however, all that goes to hell when he gets hurt on a mission. and now, he's laying in the medbay with the medical droids holding him down. everyone nudges you to the medbay, citing that "he only listens to you-"
so you go- you go and sit next to him until he gets better and much to your surprise, he does listen and he grunts and groans and sighs but he listens. and it makes something... tighten inside you.
the realization of how he only listens to you. he does what you say, he agrees regardless of how much he groans and sighs but he listens and it makes you wonder.
makes you wonder how far you could push it.
honestly, it was just a curiosity thing. nothing else at all. completely unaware of bruce's plans.
so you do. you push. you ask him small favours and you smile when he does them. you push and you ask him for things that you can do yourself and he does them.
these things pile up and you dont even realize how much you enjoy it. asking him softly, in the hush of JL meetings, during missions, on the way back- you just ask and he does it
then he starts to act out again, he knows he needs to push you more. he starts to give you a look when you ask him something, almost bordering on a make me challenge. so you start to ask him with "wont you be good for me, please?"
and that's when he knows he's got you- you're ripe for the taking. just a little more and he could finally be putty in your hands, under you, over you, anyway you want him to be
so he slowly starts to add a "yes ma'am" with his usual smirk every time he said it
finally- finally, everything came to fruition during an event
where he wasn't batman, he was brucie wayne and he was surrounded by models and socialites. he'd invited you just to watch him- see if you got jealous and god, he knew you were so jealous
so after it, the mask slipping. no longer brucie either. just him. just bruce. he comes to you-
"you seem upset." is met with, "no why would i be?" and he knows he's got you.
he talks softly, his voice low, guiding you to a secluded corner, invading your personal space. "please tell me what i did."
he watches the way you swallow dry. the soft plea is clearly everything to you. you look at him and it's just barely noticeable but he is who he is and notices it. the way your pupils dilate.
"i seem to have upset you. i didn't mean to. if there is anything ... would you tell me?"
the air feels charged suddenly. there's something twisting in your gut to say something but you still hold back so he pushes on.
"if i've made you upset... won't you want to... put me in my place?" he whispers, his hands press against the wall, caging you in.
you always knew he was tall but at the moment, he looks even taller. you look up at him and his eyes shine in a way that's so new. so unseen. you swallow again, whispering his name but before you can say more, he's on his knees, his hands at your hips.
"bruce... this is-"
"tell me to stop-" he looks up at you, his eyes so damn blue, it stutters your breath. "tell me anything and you know i will do it." he knows you won't tell him to stop, his chin leans closer, resting on your thigh. "I'll always do anything you ask-" he whispers, his mouth pressing kissing over your clothes, his eyes never leaving yours
this is it. he thinks. you're right at the edge-
"be good for me." you whisper, your fingers running through his hair.
the words are the fire he's been trying to burn for ages now. and finally, it's paying off.
someone sent an ask about wanting to learn how i color. This is a very simplified and quick version.I hope it makes sense and is at least the slightest bit useful!!
synopsis: your boyfriend looks so good whenever you’re on top that it makes you shy. when are you ever shy?! you wanna sort this out asap or you ride bakugou trying to figure out which position feels best
what’s coming up: 18+, a whole load of smut this is lowkey pwp. p in v, riding, multiple positions, making out, head (f receiving), established relationship, overstimulation (m)
notes: antm title. listen i can’t explain what happened to me. needs another proofread i think.
you mention this one night wrapped in katsuki’s arms about to go to sleep. you’re doing the compulsory three minute spoon until you both pull away and get comfortable at your respective sides of his bed.
this time it’s you spooning him, your leg over his hip, your arm around his waist. you rub your lips over his shoulder and sniff his hair.
“i really want to get better at being on top.” you mumble into his skin, eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness around you.
katsuki shifts his head on the silk pillowcase. you told him to change fabrics to protect his hair (you really meant yours) and he listened, new ivory cases the next time you saw him.
“hah?” it’s a quiet one, not like his usual booming loud ones that hit the back of your eardrum.
“i never feel like i know what i’m doing when i’m on top and i get so shy. i am literally never shy! ever. then you just end up doing the work.” you whine, “i want to be able to be on top and do it well. make us both feel good.”
katsuki breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. you’re having a conversation with him. about sex yes, but this isn’t you offering to have sex now. despite this, the blood rushes to his cock by simply imagining you riding him to oblivion. your head thrown back as your hips grind down on him.
it is true. he’s never seen you shy in any other part of your life or relationship. usually during sex, you’re confident and excited. hell, you’re okay with walking around his apartment naked. but for some reason, you sitting on his cock, legs straddling his waist makes you shy in a way bakugou doesn’t understand.
after making out you’d mumble to him that you want to be on top but as soon as he slides inside of you, katsuki will just look at you and your whole body flushes with heat. it has you mumbling under your breath, trying to look away from him but then his hands are on your thighs and he’s softly cooing at you. compliments about how you feel around him and how pretty you look on top.
which leads to you either leaning forward to cover his eyes with your hand, covering his whole face with your hand so he can’t talk either or just whining that you can’t do it and he needs to take over.
he shuffles around so he’s facing you, your minty breath on his face. he gives you three soft pecks, catching your lips with every brush.
“hm no, don’t give a fuck about me in this. if you feel good, i feel good.” he whispers and it makes you tighten your leg around his waist, your crotch against his lower stomach.
he’s noticed how shy you get on top. the frustration. if he’s honest he thinks it’s adorable. at the beginning of your relationship it was him stuttering like an idiot, overthinking everything he did and assuming every text from you was going to be ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ which would mostly mean it was him all along.
bakugou is also an idiot for how you beg for him to take over, crawling into his mouth for a kiss. covering his eyes so he can’t see how your breasts bounce and how insanely sweet you look slotted over him. you, all of you, shaking and trembling as he thrusts up. but although he’s into this rare shy version of you, if you want to work on not being so like that, he’ll be there.
his ruby eyes are so caring, a little frown on his face like he’s urging you to understand.
“i do want to make you feel good though,” you rub your palm against his bare chest, feeling every breath he takes. “be in control over the pace.”
“y’can look at me and i feel good. tomorrow we’ll try. see what position has you comin’ over my cock.”
you smile, “i’ll put it in my diary.”
he gives you a kiss, rubbing his nose against yours after, “why d’you feel shy for? ‘s just me.”
that has you slamming your own eyes shut in refusal. laying on your back to sigh into the ceiling.
“because of you. you’re all…,” you wave your hands in the darkness for a terrible explanation. “and the pressure. you’re usually in control.”
that’s true, he is unless you’re giving him head. “i’m what?”
you open your eyes and stare at him. “you make me all shy. staring at me like that while you’re literally inside me and you’re all… big and sexy and i’m so exposed and now i need to make you come while you look like that.”
bakugou grins like you just proposed. the sight of him below you, usually with an aroused dopey smirk, always saying what’s on his mind. the sweat across his forehead or the worst, when he lays on his forearm behind his head without a care in the world. like it’s an everyday occurrence that women sit on his dick and you’re next. it turns you on more than you can admit, it makes you feel like a shy virgin being naked in front of a boy for the first time.
along with the thick cock pressing against your warmest points, it’s too overwhelming for you.
“big and sexy?”
you roll your eyes, “that’s all you heard?”
“y’know i love when you’re on top. happy to do whatever you want,” he chuckles boyishly and the big arm that haunts you, wraps around your waist to drag you into his body. “like i wasn’t shittin’ myself when we fucked for the first time. lookin’ up at me like your life depended on a hard fuck.”
you guys dated for two months before you got intimate. to say you were going crazy for a single touch from this man, would be an understatement.
“no i wasn’t! but you look cocky and mean in a sexy way,” you gasp looking at him, “you look like dynamight. tv dynamight.”
tv dynamight is an alternate version of dynamight and your usual boyfriend bakugou katsuki. tv dynamight is the one you see snappily answering after fight interviews or smirking when the crowd cheers for him or rolling his eyes when he’s on a talk show and he gets a stupid question. you never get this version of him, he’s so much softer and love struck with you. doesn’t mean you don’t love watching it.
bakugou frowns, “i just look at you and say you look good. that sounds like a bad thing.”
“did you miss me saying you look sexy? so sexy it gets me feeling like an idiot.” you cross your arms under the covers. “i just want to be good at it. able to make you come like that.”
as much as he loves you still feeling nervous around him, he wants to get to the bottom of this.
“we’re sortin’ this tomorrow.”
having planned sex is a whole different game than simply assuming you’ll have sex tonight or having it spontaneously. it includes you turning up at bakugou’s apartment, more excited than usual, flinging your overnight bag on the ground and your arms around his neck.
“i watched a few videos and read articles on how to be comfortable and i did a few stretches at home,” you say, kissing him hello and katsuki has to blink into realisation.
your conversation before bed. he’s been thinking about having you tonight all day that part of him believed it was all his imagination. he kisses you back, then your cheek.
“y’look pretty,” you’re in a matching comfy pink gym set. he doesn’t know the last time you went to the gym but you always ask him to buy you these expensive ass sets. “and wait, you stretched to prepare?”
he chuckles bubbly, grabbing your bag off the floor. you pout immediately, “don’t laugh at me. i’m trying here! all you have to do is lay back.”
“i’m not laughin’ at you, baby. i love you,” he grins, “i’d never laugh.”
but you’re clenching your teeth, looking away at the dinner he’s started preparing for you both. ah, this evening he’s got his sensitive girlfriend. perhaps this was a bigger deal than you originally made it out to be.
“maybe i shouldn’t—,”
“no, we are. it was just fuckin’ adorable, i should have had a wank before you came so i don’t bust as soon as you’re naked.”
he walks into his bedroom to plop your bag on the floor and you follow behind.
“you do that?”
“i used to when we started datin’. meant i’d last longer. the fact we planned this i should have done my prep.”
his last syllable is cut off when you lay your lips over his, tugging the end of his white tee so he pulls it off.
“don’t expect this to be good, i’m just trying and testing tonight, okay?” you mumble and just as quick as usual, katsuki hardens in his basketball shorts.
the idea of being your test dummy, your experiment while you ride him, sounds like a fantasy to him. it’s true that you’d ask to be on top usually and then upon not being able to find your groove, you give up. then katsuki will grab your ass cheeks and slide you up and down like you weigh a feather.
“sounds sexy, baby,” he groans, nibbling down your neck and in turn, being rewarded with sweet gasps from you. “get naked for me.”
bakugou lays back in the centre of his bed butt naked and hard as a rock while you sit on your knees beside him, also butt naked.
“sit on my face,” he orders.
“no! treat this seriously.”
“i’m so fuckin’ serious, c’mon. you say you need to get comfortable, you’re always comfortable on my face. maybe i needa make you come first.”
he doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying, he just knows you're wet right now and he wants a taste.
it does sway you a little. thinking about the videos you’ve seen and articles you’ve read. educational ones! some being porn also. stretching your hips is necessary and it’s not that you’re uncomfortable around your boyfriend, just being on top, shyness takes over.
his hand drifts up your thighs, then your soft stomach before squeezing your breast. you see katsuki twitch out the corner of your eye. your mouth waters at the sight of him. always so pretty, thick and long, dead weight on his stomach. only from some kissing and being naked together.
“we could sixty nine?”
he grabs your hips, dragging you closer and manoeuvring you so you’re sitting on his upper chest. he can smell you from here, he’s sure pre is leaking from him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“we’re focusin’ on you.”
“says the one begging to eat me out.”
katsuki’s smiles always drive you crazy, mostly because they’re always dedicated to you. the world gets his smirks and as sexy as they are, it’s never a genuinely excited smile. especially over the prospect of having you on his face.
his gold tooth catches the warm lamp light and he reaches to kiss your thigh, “you’re so close now. can smell ya.”
before you can let the intimacy overwhelm you, you sit up on your knees and carefully slot your pussy over your lover's face.
katsuki only needed one session with you to be good at eating you out. an annoying thing about him is how he’s simply good at everything, whilst you, after months of dating, still need to work on things. you think about the sex positive podcasts you’ve listened to recently and it’s true, not everything is going to work out of the box. you’re two completely different people coming together. in both ways.
but katsuki, he always knew exactly what to do to get you trembling. it’s firstly his enthusiasm. probably the biggest turn on. how he clutches your thighs like someone’s about to take you away. the meat of your legs will definitely have an imprint after this. how he closes his eyes and moans into you. rocks your hips into his face as his tongue laps up everything you are.
like a man starved, his death row meal and he’s asked for you on a platter. he sucks on your clit and opens his eyes to see you lean over to grab the headboard. watching your tits and how they shake at every movement he makes. katsuki loves to talk but because his mouth is preoccupied, you just get vibrations through you along with the accompanying moans and groans he can’t help.
“fuck, y’taste… so fuckin’—,” is all he can manage, sticking his tongue down your centre and licking as much as he can.
“‘tsuki, so good,” you cry, you meet his eyes and your whole body heats up to boiling temperature. his ruby pupils are narrowed, as if he’s testing you to come now, on his face.
you grind your hips on him, following wherever feels good. he slaps your ass and you mewl. “i’m gonna, baby, i need to come.”
since he can’t speak even if he wanted to, you do as you please, coming all over katsuki’s face. your body trembles as he swipes up every drop that comes out of you, keeping you still so you don’t fall off. you clench your eyes shut, wailing loud enough that in any other part of the city, you’d have angry neighbours.
you flop onto the bed beside katsuki, as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. you’re quick to give him a cuddle, basking in the come down of your orgasm.
“good, baby?” he asks, rubbing your back slowly.
you nod against him, stuffing your face in his armpit as you catch your breath.
“how are you so good at that?”
bakugou laughs, chest swelling with pride, “‘m just passionate.”
after counting to three in your head you get up slowly, biting down on your lip.
“you wanna take another second?”
“no! and i think you were right. the orgasm helped.”
you swing your leg over bakugou’s thighs to straddle him. carefully you take hold of his cock, flicking your wrist up and down him.
katsuki reaches his arm behind his head to lay on his forearm. everything about the man is sex. the massive biceps, his flushed face. how he kneads your thigh to check you’re still there with his eyes shut.
“just like that, babygirl,” he grunts, “been thinking about this since you mentioned it. horny all goddamn day.”
you smile at him, “thinking of me in your meetings?”
you squeeze the base of his cock, your other hand coming in to rub his balls in your palm. his hips jolt into your hands, chasing every movement.
“i always fuckin’ am. b-but you on top, ridin’ the shit outta me.”
you moan without meaning to, “i want to do that for you.”
bakugou’s eyes slid open, “today is about you. findin’ out how you like it.” he pulls your hands off him and you pout. “sit on me and start movin’.”
“yes, sir,” you say playfully but it only makes bakugou exhale shakily, blinking away any newfound arousal.
he holds your hips, as you angle his cock into you. you’re already soaked from what he did to you, so he slides in like a dream, bottoming out completely.
“oh fuck,” you curse, planting your hands flat on his chest. staying still feels good, you feel him everywhere, prodding your softest parts, your walls sucking him in like he belongs there. but you know it could feel better, you just need to work out how.
“i wanna fuck into you. didn’t realise how hard this shit would be for me,” he groans, adjusting the pillow behind his head.
you blink away the horny fog the best you can. he’s still got your shine on his chin and he’s staring at you like he’s a second away from taking over. swinging you so you lay flat so he can take control. you feel his gaze on every part of your body, the focus on your soft stomach then where you meet between your legs. what gets you most is how he focuses on your face as if he’s recording every expression and exhale. the clear proof of him being so into you, the smirk rising onto his cheeks at the position you’ve got him in.
the fact he’s so into you, whilst looking like an adonis statue in an art gallery, makes you so shy.
“s-so last time i just grinded on you but i didn't feel anything? i watched a few videos on how to bounce on you without aching.” you try to look away from him, but it just has you staring at his chest. littered with these gorgeous scars. his golden body that can protect you and the country. you have to close your eyes.
“you’re watchin’ porn without me?”
you and bakugou have never watched porn together with the aim to come. sometimes you’d send him a video of something you wanna try but that’s all.
“for research! and some girls on tiktok helped.”
“okay, babygirl. do your thing, pretend i’m not here lookin’ big and sexy.”
“shut up,” you mumble, firstly planting your feet into the mattress by his hips and keeping your hands flat on bakugou’s chest to begin bouncing on his cock.
it’s a position you’ve never tried, one that always embarrassed you to imagine getting into and moving like so. you’re grateful for your stretch beforehand because bakugou glides in and out like butter. it’s more intense than just sitting on him, your body is squashed and he knows he’s gonna be using this image to get himself off till the end of time.
“oh, oh…,” you whine, tits smushed, stomach clenched to focus on what feels best. “i like this. feels good, baby.”
bakugou clenches his teeth. he can see you suck him up with every bounce, your thighs wet, so is his length. he could come like this alone if you moan any louder.
“you comfortable?” he asks, “you look insane, babygirl. can’t believe this… i could come.”
“don’t!” you squeal, whines flowing out of you without meaning to, “my knees are hurting.”
“i can help,” bakugou thrusts his hips up into you and he’s about to thrust you down into him, like what he usually does once you give up.
“no, no, let me try something else.”
without pulling off him completely, you press your knees into the bed and lean all your weight onto your left side. you begin to bounce again, up and down, up and down.
you fling your head back, mostly from the burn switching from your knees to your thighs.
bakugou’s obsessed with whatever position you get yourself in, “doin’ so good, princess.”
that has you looking at him, leaning forward for a kiss. he meets it without thought, biting down on your bottom lip when you pull away.
“i am?”
he nods rapidly, swearing under his breath. he’s got a layer of sweat on his forehead even though he’s barely done anything. forcing himself to not move is more exerting than just moving.
“yeah, baby. feels like torture though, not gonna lie to you.” he squeezes the fat of your hips, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.
you switch your weight onto your right knee, sighing in delight, wetness leaking from you. your bodies are getting louder now, the slap of your skin against his. graphic with the white ring forming around bakugou’s cock.
“now you know how i feel when you won’t let me come,” you whisper and he’s about to lean in to bite your lip as a punishment but you rotate around so your back is facing him.
you’ve never tried reverse cowgirl before but you can already predict how katsuki will feel about it. bakugou’s least favourite position. you know this because he always goes on about how he loves to see your face. your sweet loverboy. but equally one of his favourites because it’s a front row view of your rippling ass every time you slap down on him. it’s enough to make him come, a few bounces and he’s done. it’s also a good break to not have to think about him staring at you. the number one tip for other shy girls on that blog site you read.
you forward, grabbing his knees and for a second you can barely move.
“princess?” bakugou asks, caressing your ass slowly. “you okay?”
“i can feel you in my stomach,” his cockhead nudges against your insides, somehow further than you’ve ever felt before. why the hell haven’t you tried this before?
bakugou sits up on his forearm, sneaking his hand to your stomach, “does it hurt? you wanna pull off?”
you shake your head, then you remember he can’t see you well. you moan, grinding back into him. you can’t be quiet, can barely make out a coherent word either. you’re between crying and moaning, soft breaths of “‘tsuki,” and another wail.
“so good, fuck, i’m gonna die,” you gasp and the warmth in your stomach bundles together and tightens. you ignore the burn in your knees, focusing on the obscene amount of pleasure that bursts under your skin. you reach between your legs to play with your clit, slow circular rubs to make everything last as long as possible.
katsuki gets where you are now. the idea of you using him like a toy is what had him boiling all day. you’re moving on your own accord, focusing on yourself and what feels good. he begins to help, meeting your thrusts just so you scream louder.
“cmon, baby,” he says behind gritted teeth, “let me hear ya, louder for me.”
bakugou’s strict with his thrusts, obsessed with how your body shakes when it comes into contact with his. how his thighs are equally soaked and the fact that you’re both leaking onto his bedsheets. he keeps moving and before he knows it, only hearing your whines, he comes inside you.
jolting harshly, a hand on your hip bone to keep you close while he comes. it has you looking back at him with a frown.
“s-sorry, i couldn’t fuckin’—,” he’s gasping for air, back arched off the bed. he holds you down and you’re grinning like you’ve won a prize. “fuck, holy shit.”
“you came.”
delight blossoms inside of you, your body burning for your own release. katsuki looks exhausted. red cheeks, sweat coating his forehead. he genuinely looks pissed that he came. you look at the mess between your legs, so much come.
he grunts in annoyance, “i didn’t mean to i—,”
but he’s cut off as you face him again, ignoring all the liquids spilling out. you plant your feet by his head and lean back, your hands on his knees.
“touch my clit for me,” you ask politely and bakugou does what he’s told, mentally preparing himself for the overstimulation about to come.
you begin bouncing again, using your hands to guide your body up and down, rolling your hips to grind to hit a specific spot. all the shyness you ever felt before has evaporated, simply following your body to catch whatever feels good.
bakugou on the other hand, feels as if he’s about to pass out. if it’s the squelch in the air, the sight of your pussy drenched and his cock soaked. your pubic hair has strings of his come and his lower stomach has a shine to it. his cock is still hard, aching, twitching in painful flicks of pleasure. but there’s no way he could say no, not with you looking practically angelic.
you’re in your own world with your little mumbles, your whines that sound troubled but are anything but. he’s not sure how he can have you in any other position but on top after this. you ride him like you own him, like he’s yours to play with and use to relax. your breasts are soft, nipples perked to the ceiling and as he rolls his thumb against your clit, he knows you’re ready to come any second now.
“oh my god, katsuki.” you make those odd grunting sounds that make bakugou leak, “faster, w-why haven’t we done this before?”
you say in a rush and bakugou obeys, speeding up his rubs on your clit.
“this is all we’re gonna do now, huh?”
you hum, pace slowing as the burn of your knees radiates.
“lettin’ you ride my cock while i come early like a fuckin’ teenager,” he moans, frowning harshly because he’s too sensitive now, way too sensitive.
bakugou takes matters into his own hands, especially once you whine for him, “help me, ‘tsuki.”
you lift your head up to lock eyes with him. you’re fucking crying. tears down your cheeks, “i love you so much.”
he thrusts into you, meaning you no longer need to strain your body anymore. he moves you for your own pleasure, sliding you up and down, mimicking how you were moving and he’s ready to come again.
“nah, you love my cock. tell me you do.”
it takes only a second for you to reply, stretching your arms straight, your back arched so bakugou can see all the beautiful curves of your breasts and waist. he bites back his bearish groans, this is way too much for him right now. he thinks hes about to come again.
“l-love your cock so much. feels like heaven, like i’m gonna split open,” you babble, “love it so much, ‘tsuki.”
“my good fuckin’ girl, usin’ me like this. love you so much, princess,” he hums and before you can even catch yourself, after all the noise tonight, your orgasm is a silent one.
these strained gasps come from your throat as you lean forward, your whole body tensing. you don’t mean to dig your nails into his chest, but bakugou welcomes the pain especially when he orgasms again, loud enough for you both.
he growls into the air as you hold yourself up over him, open mouthed, tears falling from your eyes.
you can barely contain yourself, your body still bouncing as he continues thrusting his hips. everything is lewd, the stained bedsheets and the trail of sweat down your breasts. the sound of your ass hitting his balls only draws out your orgasm, your bodies soaked with each other.
“oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper. you stare at your boyfriend in shock as he slows down and wraps his arms around your body to drag you to his chest. “we’ve never… it’s never felt like that before.”
you can feel him pulsating inside of you and your walls are hot around him.
you both breathe, catching your breaths, plastered to each other.
“you’ve got me fucked,” his chuckle is dry, but you shuffle to get comfortable and bakugou yelps. “don’t fuckin’ move. please.”
you smile, pressing kisses into his chest until you realise what you’ve done. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to…”
you trail off, lightly brushing your thumb over the red scratches over katsuki’s chest. bakugou’s half lidded eyes catch yours, grabs your hand to kiss the centre of your palm.
“it felt good, princess. needed any distraction to ignore your warm pussy.” he pouts his lips and you happily meet his, “you confident bein’ on top now?”
bakugou twitches inside of you, “yeah. i know what to do now.”
“you looked…,” and he doesn’t know how to describe you. but you’re patiently waiting for an answer. if anyone likes to be complimented more than him, it’s you, “like a goddamn angel. thought you were gonna kill me.”
“i’d never,” your eyes droop, ready for an evening nap. “you need to pull out now.”
bakugou sighs, “this is gonna be a mess to clean up and my dick aches.”
“i’m sore too!”
bakugou rolls his eyes but he knows he’s going to be kissing your knees and thighs any minute now.
“still want me to cook dinner or order in?” he asks, pushing you on your back to slowly slide out of you.
you whine softly as he does, not used to the feeling of not being full. you almost want to sit back on him, clamp your legs around him and never let him go.
“fuck,” bakugou grunts, then he sees your pout. “after dinner.”
your eyes light up, “really?”
“you’re goddamn insatiable.”
“it’s just there’s one more position, well two, i want to try with you sitting up and me laying down.”
he climbs off the bed to grab a clean flannel from his en-suite. “you wanna break me, huh?” he calls.
you giggle, “no, i just wanna know how it’ll feel and the website i found has loads of positions we haven’t tried.”
you have the audacity to look innocent while he wipes your legs with the damp flannel. then your lower stomach and very lightly between your legs.
“you should have told me earlier i would have booked tomorrow off work.” he kisses your knee, “we can do whatever you want. until you get all achy.”
there’s no doubt he’d be able to get hard again for you, especially looking this eager about trying a new way to have sex with him.
you nod softly, running your hand down his face, “can you still cook? i want your udon noodles.”
if it was up to bakugou he’d order in. he’s way too tired to cook for you right now and still have energy to have sex again after. he had a whole patrol and training earlier today too.
but one thing bakugou has always struggled with since he met you, is the ability to say no. especially not when you sit up and grab the flannel from him to slowly swipe across his stomach and then his softened cock.
Katsuki’s voice is a low rasp against the shell of your ear, and he chuckles quietly as you squirm in his lap. He squeezes your thigh, the tips of his fingers tucked beneath your skirt.
Shinsou Hitoshi stands nearby, an unlit joint tucked behind his ear. He laughs at something Kaminari says, dragging a hand through his tousled hair before briefly letting his gaze trail across the room.
And you think Katsuki’s hand slides just a little higher up your skirt on purpose the moment Shinsou makes eye contact with you.
It’s been a little game between you and Bakugou as of late—the fact that he got you to admit you’d be into a threesome. That you’d want it to be with someone in your friend circle.
You just haven’t told him who.
He’s been slowly eliminating candidates, though he was convinced for days straight that it had to be Mina.
But it’s your heartbeat now that gives it away, and you want to kick yourself for not realizing that’s why Katsuki’s had his hand casually resting on your chest all night.
He kisses the corner of your jaw now, teeth brushing against your skin. “Heard he’s got a big dick.”
You swallow. Because yeah, you’ve heard, too.
“Think you can take us both at once?” Katsuki’s nose brushes behind your earlobe.
“Kats—“
“Why am I even askin’ that,” he mutters, and you can practically hear his smirk. “‘Course you wanna be stuffed with two dicks.”
You squeeze your thighs together as you start to feel a little breathless.
“But the real question is…”
It feels purposeful, the way Bakugou trails off when Shinsou approaches the two of you.
“…same hole, right?”
You swallow hard, chest hammering with a rabbit’s heartbeat.
Shinsou holds out the joint, offering you and Bakugou a hit. Bakugou shakes his head, but he looks a little too goddamn pleased with himself when he inclines his head toward you and adds, “She likes to shotgun it, though.”
(And if anyone thinks it’s a little odd that Shinsou’s tongue ends up in your mouth while you’re sitting in Bakugou’s lap—)
(—well. It makes sense later, when the three of you leave together.)
