Littlesponge-fics @littlesponge-fics - Tumblr Blog

One-Shot: Glitter & Glowsticks

Rating: R / 18+ Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader Summary: A lads holiday and a girls holiday collide; you know what that means… sex, it means sex. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drug use, smoking, smut, oral, fingering, slight somnophilia, copious amounts of use of the word ‘fuck’ and too much talk about cocks. Probably more, let me know.

Notes: Written in celebration of our favourite Boom Boy’s birthday. It hasn’t gone exactly how I originally planned; Reader and Bakugou told me to go fuck myself, then proceeded to do what they wanted to do, so I’m sorry if the smut seems janky, I’m blaming it on them. Also, I haven’t written anything spicy since Sept/Oct; in any case, I hope you have a good time with this fic.

Oh, also, if you fancy some club tunes to set the tone, here you go… SPOTIFY PLAYLIST LINK (I highly recommend listening while reading to get you in the party mood, even though there are way too many tracks to get through before reaching the end). 🤪

Happy Birthday, Katsuki 🥳 x x x

“Did you see?”

“See what?” you asked, holding out a daiquiri, paper straw and little umbrella swirling in the crushed ice.

“The new arrivals,” Mina said, dropping her magazine on the floor to roll onto her back, grabbing at the offering and licking at the straw with her tongue to give it a good suck. “How did you miss ‘em with their pale asses?” she asked after a refreshed sigh.

“I dunno,” you shrugged with a roll of your eyes - that she couldn’t see through the tint of your shades - untying your sarong and settling back in your sunlounger beside the sparkling pool. “Maybe it’s because you use me as your own personal waiter instead of going yourself.”

It was another hot one today, luckily the breeze from the sea a hundred feet away soothed your heated skin, but was prone to burn if you weren’t careful.

“I can’t go when he’s on shift,” she replied. “He’s a clingy one.”

“Let that be a lesson not to fuck the bar staff on your first day.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was too hot to pass up.”

You snorted, grabbing a bottle of sun cream from your bag and squirting a sizable amount in your hand.

“Don’t make that sound. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be getting the good stuff.”

“Mina,” you groaned, rubbing your legs. “We’re here all inclusive. But you would have remembered that if you bothered to go to the bar yourself.”

“Oh, hush. You’ve side tracked me.”

She could blame you all she wanted, but she had a knack for going off road even without your help. “Go on then, which of them’s caught your eye?”

Her dreamy sigh, and the way she fanned her face with her hand, told you that you were on the right track in thinking she had a new conquest in her sights, and he didn’t know yet that he was about to have his world rocked. And that meant you’d have to find your own if she planned on using your shared room again.

It was so embarrassing listening to your friend being fucked in the bed right next to yours.

Mina wasn’t a shy one, she was always telling you about her dalliances, and she never left anything out, and you meant anything. You knew more about her partners’ dicks than you ever cared to know, and it was a trial having to look them in the eye when you were back home.

But here, on your holidays, you heard fucking everything, saw everything - because those thin sheets didn’t hide very much - and you didn’t want to go through that awkward moment in the morning when you awoke to find them going at it again for the third or fourth time, or they were passed out with all their naughty bits on display.

What was even worse, was to find her flavour of the night had pissed all over the toilet seat when you tried to discreetly slip away into the bathroom.

No, that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Whoever she’d set her sights on, you desperately hoped he had a friend, an attractive friend, who wasn’t a complete fucking dickhead like the last guy you’d had.

Now that was a memory you didn’t want to repeat.

“There’s a few of them,” she said, sipping her drink.

Pausing in your hourly skincare routine, you glanced at her in question, “You planning an orgy?”

“Only if my best girl’s there,” she grinned, leaning over to slap lightly at your sticky thigh.

“Don’t lie,” you laughed in reply, flicking a towel at her. “You’d hoard all the cock if you could.”

“I’d save one for you,” she gasped with a hand on her heart, affronted by your accusation.

You didn’t believe her. “Yeah, whatever.” She was a greedy bitch when she wanted to be.

“No, because there’s this group, right? Four of ‘em. We could have two each,” she goaded with a wag of her shapely eyebrows. “I’ll even let you have the one with the biggest dick.”

“How very generous of you.”

She sniffed, “I am, if I do say so myself.”

“You do,” you sarcastically replied, ignoring her ego to work on your shoulders.

“Come on, there’s a couple of blonds who look absolutely delish, and we both know how much you like those.” Her eyebrows lifted again, and her tongue peeled out around her straw like she was trying to seduce you with her idea.

Now that sounded very tempting. But you cut your eyes at her - again, she couldn’t see. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

There was always a catch, and if by the way you could see her eyes turn away from you through the gap in the side of her shades, you knew exactly what it was.

One of them was a dickhead.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“Come on, Bakubro, we’re wasting daylight here.”

Fuck Kaminari, he might be able to live out his suitcase, but he’d be damned if he did; he wasn’t forking out the money for laundry services to get his shirts ironed.

Replacing the hanger back in the wardrobe with a button down draped over it, he turned to a person he unfortunately had to call his friend, to find him lounging on his bed with his fucking shoes on. Fuck Eijirou for pushing him into his path.

“Off,” he growled, clipping him round the ear. “Where’s Lurch?”

“Ow- He’s out scoring some gear.”

“Already?” asked Ei, fixing his hair through the vanity. Waste of fuckin’ time if you asked Katsuki, he was usually the first in the pool. “Did he even stay long enough to check out his room?”

“Nah, just dropped his stuff off, then dipped,” he replied, opening up the balcony door to let in the noise from down by the pool, an upbeat EDM track blasting out a repetitive rhythm, laughter and chatter trying to compete, and the sounds of splashing water tying it all together. “Man, your view is way better than ours.”

“So he’s fucked off and left you with us.” Typical Sero; more interested in hunting down the local illegal pharmaceutical dealer than the pussy that’s waiting for his stoner dick.

“You say that like he’s my deadbeat dad and left me with the neighbours.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow as if to goad him into refuting his own statement. Fuck Face didn’t rise to the challenge.

Fucking wimp.

He sighed instead. “Can you two just hurry up, I didn’t fork out nearly half a grand to watch you preen.”

Ei straightened, whipping a beach towel over his shoulder. “You came because it’s Kat’s birthday.”

Kaminari laughed at him like what he’d said was a joke, and Katsuki had to agree with his amusement with a raise of his eyebrows in shocked disbelief toward the redhead before the other blond even replied.

“Dude, I came for the pussy.”

Of course he did, Katsuki’s birthday was just the reason he needed to drag everyone else along with him to the party island so he didn’t look like some loner perving over the abundance of tits and ass on display.

“Like her,” he added, beckoning them to take a look over the balcony.

He was pointing at a pink haired beauty flicking through a magazine, teasingly licking at the tip of a finger to flick through its pages, fat ass upturned and covered by a scrap of purple, cheetah print bottoms.

“Who wants to bet I can get her hanging off my dick before the end of the night?”

Good eye, Katsuki thought, but his attention was diverted by the bombshell that was approaching, those flimsy pieces of cloth females like to wear hanging dangerously low on swaying hips, a frilly top covering breasts that even he could see from two floors up were perky, and two glasses of drinks in hand with brightly coloured umbrellas poking from the top.

Now that was a sight for sore eyes.

“I don’t think you should be counting your chickens so soon,” Ei warned. “That one looks feisty.”

“Perfect,” he grinned, not in the least bit put off by the implication.

Retreating back into the room, Katsuki threw on a fresh shirt and swapped his jeans for a pair of black and orange swim shorts. “Then go and get her, before the fuckin’ bean stalk gets back and has her deep-throating him instead.”

“You sayin’ Hanta’s got better game than me?” Kaminari asked, shutting the door and muting the racket outside.

This time it was Ei’s turn to find amusement in this stupid conversation. “He gets more pussy than all of us combined.”

Katsuki resented that. At least he didn’t have to entice women with fucking party drugs to get in their knickers. But he couldn’t deny that the lanky streak of piss had a way with the opposite sex. Motherfucker was so laid back and smooth, ladies were dropping to their knees with hardly any effort at all on his part.

The others did too to a degree. Kaminari’s doofus persona seemed to attract them just fine; he was like a bouncing little puppy and they would coo and fussy over him, saying how cute he was even as he tried to hump their leg like a dirty old dog.

And the same could be said for Eijirou, though he didn’t come across even half as clingy like his friend. Katsuki had an inkling that it was to do with how fucking nice he was, eager to please rather than to be pleased. Ei didn’t pick up women, they picked up him. It didn’t hurt the fact that he was so fucking big too. He’d heard females titter over the redhead and whether everything was in proportion to his large, broad frame. Most of them were horrified when they found out he was.

The guy’s cock could be used as a fucking baseball bat.

Too bad he couldn’t hold his drink long enough to use it most of the time.

“Well come on then,” Kaminari urged, already half-cocked and ready to shoot, ”before Hanta does come back and we end up with the ‘fives’ and ‘sixes’.”

Tossing a bottle of sun screen in the bag at the end of his bed, Katsuki bit out at the blond, “You’ll be lucky to even get that with how fuckin’ desperate you’re actin’.”

Ei agreed, slipping on his flip flops and snatching a bottle of water from the mini-bar, “Don’t wanna blow all your load on the first day.”

While grabbing at his crotch, Fuck Face retorted, “I got plenty stored up.”

Katsuki wrinkled his nose in disgust, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and heading for the door. “You should rub one out before you drown your unfortunate victim. Let’s go, I haven’t eaten since we got off the plane.”

“What about the lovelies by the pool?” he whined.

“Keep your dick in check otherwise I’ll twat you.”

“Yeah,” Ei seconded, wrapping a big arm around the blond’s neck and dragging him along the hallway despite his protests. “You’ve got a fortnight of fucking ahead of you; need to keep that strength up, Casanova.”

A slap to your arm startled you from your boredom of waiting for almost an hour in the unbelievably long queue, not even the muted thump of the music filtering out of the front doors or the excited chatter around you could keep your spirits up when your heels were already killing you.

“Wha-”

“They’re here,” she replied.

She didn’t need to clarify, she’d been talking about ‘them’ nonstop all day.

Swivelling around, you turned to see over the abundance of already half-drunk partygoers to see a group of four attractive males outside the dividing rope’s line.

Red spiky hair, and a red shirt that looked a little snug around the chest area were what nabbed your attention first. Then you saw the expanse of muscles peeking through the open collar, and your breath froze in your throat.

“Holy fucking shit!” you whispered, as your eyes that were already dilated in the darkness became impossibly larger, and continued to devour the slab of gorgeous meat that rolled up like a dessert cart.

“Fucking told you!”

You ignored her smugness in favour of letting your reluctant gaze slide to the guys trailing behind, thighs squeezing together when a wave of arousal flooded your fresh underwear.

Blonds.

Your kryptonite.

You licked your lips at the cheeky grin the shorter one was sporting.

He looked like fun; floppy hair that you were sure was styled like that to get people to pay attention and have them want to run their fingers through it. He was a little skinny for your tastes, yet his lean frame covered by a bright t-shirt and three quarter-length trousers that showed off pale legs with a dusting of fair hairs was just enough to get you salivating.

Yes, he was just what the doctor ordered, more so than the one who was scowling like it was Monday morning and had to be in work within the next ten minutes, rather than on his holidays and could do whatever he wanted for however long he had time off.

He was still attractive though you realised, when he pushed at his friend’s laughter and saw the glow of his crimson eyes beneath the lights of the club. A black button-down shirt pulled across washboard abs that could rival the redhead’s with how much the buttons were straining, and a waist that had no competition.

Shame you could immediately tell this was the one Mina had been alluding to being the prick of the group.

“I’m not fuckin’ waiting in that!” he was saying.

“C’mon, Kacchan, an hour tops. I’m begging you.”

“Fuck no, let’s just go to a bar.”

Their argument continued, creating an audience of intrigued onlookers, until your staring was interrupted by the tall black haired guy of the group.

He wasn’t bad on the eyes either, even though he looked less put together with rumpled clothing that looked like he’d slept in them. But somehow he made it work; the lazy slacker ensemble suited him well.

“Ladies,” he nodded. “How’s it going?”

His words bolstered Mina into action, pushing out her chest to shift you out the way and asking if everything was okay.

He took a drag of his cigarette, and after blowing a stream of sickly, sweet smelling smoke from the side of his mouth, you could immediately tell it wasn’t tobacco.

“Nothing to worry yourselves over,” he replied.

“You sure about that?” you asked, leaning over the rope. “Your friend looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.”

He shook his head, “It’s just that it's my friend's birthday, you see, and he’s not exactly the patient type.”

“Oh well, we can fix that, can’t we?” Mina simpered, and nudged you to indicate you were a part of that ‘we’.

You looked at her in confusion. What the fuck was she up to?

“What are you doing?” you said into her ear.

“Trust me,” she whispered back, before turning to the guy. “You can cut in here, if you like.”

“You don’t mind?”

You did, but Mina shook her head.

“That’s real sweet of you, doll,” he grinned. You could practically feel Mina melt next to you upon hearing the nickname, and you knew you’d been played. “Your first round’s on me,” he winked. ”Hey, you lot! Ei, Denk, Old Man! Get your asses over here!”

“Who the fuck you calling old?!”

With a bit of shuffling and furious complaints from the patrons behind, the four of them managed to squeeze in beside you.

The chipper blond looked ecstatic, the redhead was polite in his thanks as he cocked a leg over the rope, and the last of their quartet still had a face on as they each introduced themselves.

But it was when you looked up at him, his features finally relaxed, and an easy curl at the corner of his lips cleared the cloud of annoyance from his eyes.

You knew that look, you’d seen it a hundred times over the last dozen nights.

It was confidence, assurance, a cocksure shift in attitude that made whoever wore it believe that whatever that wanted, they were going to get.

And when he said, “Well my night is starting to look up,” you knew exactly what he was referring to. But you weren’t as easy to please like Mina was, who was already hanging off Hanta’s arm, plucking the roll up from his offering fingers and talking at length with the other blond. No, you were going to make him work for it. Even if it was his birthday.

The cocky prick.

You started by turning to the redhead, Eijirou. “So, you just arrived today?”

His smile was kind of shy. Cute. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Sticking out your arm, you pressed it against the exposed skin of his own, feeling his warmth to display the obvious difference in tone, even if your natural colour was lighter or darker than his.

The laugh he let out was infectious, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with him, until there was a huff behind you.

Good.

Slowly, the queue began to shift as you moved up the line, filling the time in between with the obligatory getting to know you conversation that most likely would have all the details forgotten come morning.

Eijirou was a nice guy, everything that came out of his mouth was respectful, but his eyes told a different story. You could feel them burning a hole through your dress, especially when he let you go in front of him, and you were sure he only did that so he didn’t have to avert his gaze when you caught him staring surreptitiously at your ass.

Hanta was so laid back, he may as well be lying down, and with that thought you couldn’t help but conjure some very satisfying lazy sex in your mind. You imagined he was at his best on a Sunday, no work or obligations to intrude on a pleasant morning spent in bed.

Denki, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He was a live-wire, the centre of attention if he didn’t have Mina there to share it with, and most likely very fun in the bedroom - or out of it. Laughing and joking, and very blatantly flirting when he wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about him and friends.

Now the birthday boy; he was a different story. He contributed practically nothing, yet he was a constant presence at your back as you slowly shuffled forward. Unlike Eijirou, he wasn’t afraid to stare, and he didn’t have that sense of wonder-lust like his friend did when his eyes travelled to places most people would find disrespectful in polite company. No, his eyes lingered on all the naughty parts without shame, a hunger in their depth telling you that as soon as that hard to get facade slipped just a fraction he was going to pounce, and feast on the meal you were so adamant on denying him.

He was very obviously annoyed at first with your ignorance of him, eyes narrowed in irritation as he grumbled and huffed in the background, hands stuffed in the pockets of his linen shorts. However, as soon as you’d shown your hand by taking a peek at his reaction when you, not so subtly, let your breasts brush up against the redhead’s bicep, you knew you’d been rumbled.

That smirk of his made an appearance again, and his eyes darkened under the club’s lights.

The game had begun.

Once you were through the door, ID verified and your entrance fees were paid, at his suggestion that the pretty ladies always get served first, Mina went with Hanta to get the drinks, and Eijirou offered to carry them; his frame bulky enough to get through the crush of dancers without spilling too much.

That left you with the blonds, and Denki was quick to ingratiate himself with you after spending most of his time working on Mina so far. You supposed it was kind of smart on his part if, your friend ended up in one of his friend’s beds instead.

Inside there wasn’t much chance to converse with the loud, thumping bass of the music creating its own heartbeat throughout your body, so he took the opportunity to guide you along to one of the standing tables around the edge of the dancefloor and near the outdoor area where it was easier to hear.

Unexpectedly, you felt his hand on the small of your back, and a tingle shot up your spine.

“Be honest with me,” he partially shouted, something you would all have to do to be heard. You nodded; you could do that. “What’re my chances with your friend?”

Of course. It made you want to roll your eyes at playing wing-woman yet again.

You stepped away, and he hand fell to his side. “That depends,” you said seriously, resting your elbows on the table to fiddle with a coaster.

“On?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“How much are you willing to pay me to put in a good word for you.”

The birthday boy scoffed at that, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

“If your goal is to shake him down, you’re shit out of luck.”

“Okay,” you said, catching on quickly, and turned back to Denki. “Then how big is your dick?”

You very obviously let your eyes fall to his crotch, and you saw him fidget slightly, making you grin.

Birthday Boy laughed, “Compared to his wallet? Fuckin’ huge.”

“Dude! I’m trying to make a good impression here and you’re ruining it.”

“Don’t need me for that, shit for brains.”

Your eyes swung back and forth between the pair as they argued, finding amusement in the way they easily took the piss out of one another.

“At least I lost my virginity first.”

“The one thing you can hold over me, prick. But at least I didn’t lose it to the old bint who used to be our lunch lady.”

“What! She had a great pair of tits on her; nearly suffocated me with ‘em.”

“Alright, alright!” you interjected with an amused smile.

Birthday Boy huffed and Denki looked back at you as if he’d forgotten you were there to witness this little tiff.

“I was just messin’.”

“Does that mean I’m in?” he asked with a bit of scepticism.

“You're in,” you nodded.

He sighed in relief; a beaming smile lighting up his face.

“Unless…” You paused to watch his face drop, and enjoy him squirm for a second, “you do have the biggest dick. Because Mina promised me I would get it tonight, didn’t you, babe?”

“Sure did,” she said, placing your drink before you on the table, and kissing you on the cheek as you took a sip, your eyes lighting up.

Clubs were notorious for overcharging compared to the smaller bars on the marina, so you had to commend her on getting Hanta to pay for a triple.

“What’s this about dicks now?” he asked, already pulling out a little tin and a pack of rolling papers from his pockets.

“Fascinating subject,” Mina continued. “I’ve always wondered if you guys compare by getting the measuring tape out for a more accurate reading, drop trou and eyeball it, or do you just press them up against each other?”

Denki choked on his own tongue, Birthday Boy froze with his lips pursed to take a swig of his beer, and Hanta laughed.

“Well, which one is it? Because if Red’s face is anything to go by,” she said, nodding at Eijirou’s blush with a salacious smirk, ”he’s done at least one of those things.”

Denki asked one of his own questions, “I’ll answer if you tell me how you compare tit size.”

“That’s easy,” she said, and demonstrated by placing her drink on the table to grab one of her breasts, and reaching out to cup one of yours, pushing up until they were nearly spilling out of your dresses.

Four sets of eyes took in the scene and you laughed.

“So?” she prodded.

There was no answer.

“I think you’ve broken them, Mina.”

She huffed in annoyance. “Will someone at least ask me to dance then? I swear you're all useless, or do me and my friend here have to show you lads how to do that too?”

“I’m down for seeing that,” Hanta smirked, licking at the thin paper.

Denki eventually pulled himself out of his stupor, and she dragged him through the throng to leave you to look after the drinks.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Hanta informed those who were left, slotting his spliff behind his ear and striking his lighter with a tiny scratch of sparks.

Just as he was going to leave, he leant into Birthday Boy like some sort of manly hug and whispered in his ear, dropping something in his hand, then patted Eijirou on the back before he disappeared through the door.

You felt the redhead's eyes on you, saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, then he blurted out, “I think I need some air,” and followed his taller friend outside.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked the last remaining member.

Birthday Boy shook his head. “He’s trying to hide the hard-on you gave him.”

“Are you joking, or did you wanna continue the subject?”

His nose wrinkled cutely. “I do not want to talk about his cock, or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“Okay,” you smiled, taking another sip of your drink. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

His eyes swept along your body, and the inkling you had on what that meant turned out to be completely wrong. You thought he’d say something crude, like ‘pussy’, but instead he replied with, “I’d rather not talk.”

His eyes alighted on yours, and you understood perfectly, shivering at how low his voice had dipped, dripping with husk and rumbling with gravel.

Fuck messing with him, he was the only one who’d stayed by your side since they’d jumped the queue, and you felt that deserved a little reward.

But you’d paid so much money to get in the place, you couldn’t let it go to waste.

Downing your drink, and Mina’s too - she could get someone to buy her another - you latched on to the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to your level, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Then let’s not,” you said more quietly, licking your lips as you stared at his own.

His pupils blew open, the red of his irises bright rings in the flashing darkness.

He was so close you could feel the heat he radiated like a furnace, and the rumble in his chest, more so than the continuous music that was playing in the foreground. It was a sound of aggravation, you were sure, when you didn’t close the gap fast enough.

Yet when you did, it wasn’t to kiss him, it was to brush your lips against his cheek as you made a light trail towards the shell of his ear.

“I love this song. Dance with me.”

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction with a cock of your head, smoothing your hands down his chest and admiring the defining ripples you could make out beneath your fingertips, you found him eyeing you with the same tilt.

“Why don’t we make this a little more interesting.”

“What d’you have in mind?”

He held up a hand, a little see through bag dangling from between two fingers.

Ohhh, okay…

Your eyes sparkled beneath the lights.

And Katsuki was having a hard time trying to reign in the raging erection that had been threatening to burst since he saw you, and he was ready to say ‘fuck it’, and just drag you to an empty corner and rail you where anyone could see.

For hours, you danced, and drank, and danced some more. You even partook in some recreational drug use when you stepped outside to take a breather, and Soy Face was more than happy to share.

The bastard.

After that first initial meeting outside the club he was sure you were going to make this hard for him, looking stunning in your tiny dress, with breasts that should be resting in the palms of his hands and legs that should be wrapped around this hips; especially when you were so blatantly flirting with Shitty Hair while you were waiting in that God-fucked line. And he was positive your friend was in on it too with all that talk about cocks and that show of grabbing at your tits.

He could have not taken the bait and found someone else easily enough with all the scantily clad people about, but Katsuki was a winner when a challenge was put to him.

When he’d offered you one of the little white pills Sero had gifted him with, he had expected you to finally put this little pretence aside and shove your tongue down his throat to take it from him. Instead you’d plucked it from the tip of his own tongue with manicured nails and popped it in your mouth with a cheeky grin.

So imagine his surprise when you finally dropped - rather quickly if he was being honest, he was sure you’d hold out for at least another hour - your little game of pushing all his buttons and get him to make a move.

Instead you made it rather clear that you’d chosen him, letting the drugs and the music take hold and finally - finally - pulling him into a heated kiss once you were on the dance floor.

He fucking hated clubs, would rather had gone to a bar, but here he was, and so was you.

So he fucking stayed.

You’d danced with the others too, and he’d taken that time to retreat back to the table or get more drinks from the bar, but he didn’t let his eyes stray for more than a couple of seconds when you ended up in the arms of one of his friends. He watched them like a hawk at the same time as admiring the sway of your hips as you raised your arms in the air and threw back your head to laugh exuberantly, or belt out the words to the song the DJ was currently playing as the hair around your face, and at the nape of your neck, began to stick to sweaty skin.

Dumb Fuck was too busy wrapped up with trying to sneak his hand up your pink-haired friend’s dress for Katsuki to be worried about him.

But Sero, the wanker, was the worst, playing your game of making him jealous - even though you had obviously given up on it - by giving him smug smirks as he just stood there, letting you do all the work as you ground your ass against his stationary form.

The bastard of a cunt knew of his interest in you when he’d mentioned the pretty girl he’d seen, describing you perfectly, lounging by the pool when they’d met up for food earlier, and Sero enjoyed nothing more than pissing him off when he wasn’t making a hotbox out of a room.

And Eijirou wasn’t too far behind in hitting Katsuki’s patience quota for the day either. Once’s Sero had fucked off back outside, the redhead was quick to pull you into yet another dance as a air horn blew and the room filled with smoke, glitter bursting from the ceiling like fireworks and raining down like magic sparkles from a wand.

That shit would be in his fucking hair for days. Just another reason for him to hate places like this.

He hadn’t been lying when he told you you’d given Ei a stiffy. He wasn’t the picky type, and, given half the chance, you could be finding yourself under him instead.

This getaway was for his fucking birthday, and he had first fucking pick, damn it! If Ei was lucky, he would be willing to share, but Katsuki was getting between your legs first.

When he’d finally had enough at watching you enjoy yourself without him, he was at your back again, and he didn’t even mind that you were rubbing more glitter over him when you brazenly slid your hand behind you to grope at his junk, or that Pinky was rubbing up against your front; or that there were half a dozen other people crushing you tighter against him, and Ei, the bastard, was blowing a fucking whistle down his ear, deafening him. He just wrapped a palm around your throat to tilt your head back to see those, dilated eyes and cheekbones dusted with a rainbow of colours.

Your arms came up to tug at his damp hair, and he groaned at the inevitability that things would only get better when you mouth landed on his. He didn’t know if it was the drugs, or just you, but everything felt like it was brought into sharp focus. The lights were pulsing, the glowsticks around your wrists were brighter, the music louder, and that rush of adrenaline cascading through his bloodstream set his nerves on fire. He wondered if this was how people felt when they saw colour television for the first time, or experienced surround sound.

Kissing you was like its own type of illegal substance, soft, puffy lips pulling at his own, tongue sliding against the ridges on the roof of his mouth, the residual taste of weed intermingling with the taste of beer and your drink of choice as you sucked. It was a heady feeling, and he needed to get you out.

Right fucking now.

“Tell her you're leaving,” he shouted over the noise.

You blinked up at him in confusion and he growled.

He had no time for coyness.

Getting her attention away from Kaminari, Katsuki removed Pinky’s arm from around his neck.

She was a quicker study than you, and immediately got the hint when his head nodded somewhere towards the door and saw your hand in his.

She leaned back into you and he could hear her shout for you to enjoy yourself, before turning back to Kaminari to drape herself over him as he gave Katsuki a lewd gesture by waving a fist next to his face, and poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek.

It was a shock to the system, when he finally managed to get you out of the oppressive club, and guided you past the line of people still waiting to get in; holding you up on wobble heels and blinking away the taint of smoke from his eyes.

And it was even harder for him to find someplace suitable to push you up against without getting arrested and thrown into a foreign jail, not when you eventually clicked on to his intentions and attempted to climb to him so you could mouth and licking at his neck.

In the end he pulled you into a dark alley, not the most ideal location, but it would do to take the edge off before he could get you back to the hotel.

His mouth was back on yours, frantic, all lips and tongue and teeth, and your hands were already working on the button of his shorts without him even having to prompt you.

You both knew where this was heading.

But he had a different starting point in mind.

Stopping your fumbling fingers, he trailed kisses down your neck as his hands bunched up your dress around your waist, while yours threaded through his hair, fingertips gliding over lace panties and fingering at the tied bows at the sides, when you scratched at his scalp to make him groan.

He didn’t know how long you had left in the country, but he was going to make the most of whatever time he had with you.

Dropping to his knees, he didn’t waste a second to hitch a thigh over his shoulder, a stubby heel poking into his back, and enjoyed the breathy gasp you let out when he pushed your panties to the side and let your pretty pussy breath for a moment in the balmy night air.

Looking up he saw you blinking rapidly, trying to find focus under the film of drugs, alcohol and lust.

Then he dove in, and your moans were instantaneous - better than the music he could still hear from a few blocks away - when his wet tongue met an already dripping hole.

“Fuck!” he groaned against your cunt. “You been thinking about this as much as me?”

You didn’t need to answer, your mewl and the flood of arousal that met his tongue told him what he already knew.

He licked and licked, and licked, drinking up your taste, until those nails of yours found his hair again and tugged harshly, forcing him to peer up at your flushed face.

“Stop fucking teasing me and suck, dickhead,” you admonished.

“Dickhead?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed, and he knew you were trying to keep your composure in check despite the circumstance. It made him want to ruin you. “It’s what I’m gonna call you when your not doing what you’re suppos’ta.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s my name when I am?”

“Birthday Boy; now eat your cake before I offer it up to someone else.”

The grip he had on your hips tightened at the threat, cutting his eyes at you. “That ain’t fuckin’ happening, you prissy little bitch.”

Your laugh had your tits pushing out far enough he couldn’t see your face for a moment.

Oh, he was liking this.

Most people would melt into a puddle once they knew what was going down, but you were something else. Even drunk as a fucking skunk and high off your tits.

“That your name for me?” you asked with that lilt of your head you were always sending his way; assessing, goading.

“Be a good girl, and maybe the Birthday Boy will call you something pretty,” he replied with a soft blow of cool air against your cunt and a teasing stroke with a fingertip along the seam.

“Tell me later,” you moaned. “Now dig in, Dickhead.”

His growl was muffled when you pushed him back to you, nose bumping against your clit and filling with your musk.

So you were a feisty one.

Okay, he could work with that.

He liked that.

And his dick did too, with the way it twitched within the confines of his shorts.

Ordinarily he would have gone slow to start, but hey, it was obvious that you weren’t going to have any of that, not with the threat of you giving it away to someone else hanging over his head.

An image of String Bean flickered in his drug-addled mind, and that was all the motivation he needed to be more aggressive, pulling at your inner lips with nips of his teeth to make you hiss and curl your fingers more tightly in his spikes.

He still teased you though, purposely avoiding the place where he knew you wanted his mouth the most, and instead slipped a finger between your slick folds and pulled back slightly to watch your reaction.

Your eyes rolled back and your hips jerked forward, and yet you still managed to bite out, “Dickhead,” when he pressed against the bumpy spot he was on the lookout for.

He grinned in satisfaction. “Bitch.”

You huffed, still able to laugh through your moans when his finger began to move, and a second was added, stretching and curling against fluttering walls, his hand very quickly becoming coated in your juices.

And when he felt like he’d toyed with enough, your breathing becoming more irregular and harder to manage with each pant, he finally let you have what you wanted.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked.

He sucked hard.

And you came.

A flood that dribbled down past his chin, to his palm to his wrist; rivulets of clear liquid seeping down his forearm to nearly meet the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

An accompanying scream you tried to muffle around a bite to your hand, the heel in his back digging in hard enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if it broke skin, and the way the leg you stood upon shook, had him smiling smugly against your still twitching clit and quaking insides.

Fuck, it was going to be fucking amazing when he could get his cock in there next.

Speaking of which, it was still hard when he righted your underwear and dress, and was back on his feet to hold you up when you looked like you could no longer stand yourself.

“Name?”

“Good job…” you breathed through slowing breaths, clutching at his shoulders for support. “Birthday Boy.”

He knew he was good, never had a complaint, however, he couldn’t stop the swell of pride that burst in his chest to hear you say that.

“Not so bad yourself…” He took your lips in a slow, deep kiss, sharing in the taste, mimicking his earlier ministrations, tipping your face up with a finger under your chin, and watching your eyes become searching as he held back for a fraction before finally finishing with, “Gorgeous.”

Katsuki knew immediately that you didn’t like it by the way your features scrunched in displeasure and his finger slipped.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s hideous,” you said, detangling yourself from his arms, and pushing him away. “Think of something else.”

Were you fucking messing with him right now? “That is the exact opposite of what it means,” he snapped, wiping his mouth in frustration and following your retreating figure as you fixed your hair and dress, and him trying to adjust the erection that was still hanging heavy under his shorts.

“You said it’d be something pretty,” you replied.

“How is that not?”

Fucking girls, with their vague, cryptic fucking bullshit. He wished your lot would just spit it all the fuck out, or swallow the fucking consequences.

He never had these sorts of problems with guys.

“It’s the type of name you give to any Mary, Sue, or Fanny. I want something special.”

You were a real piece of fucking work, weren’t you? Even after he’d just had his face buried in your cunt, and made you climax a torrent of cum not two fucking minutes ago. Not to mention he’d spent most of his day travelling; from a cramped, tin can of an aeroplane to a stuffy coach without any air conditioning.

He was fucking tired, even with the added pick me up, and he’d still found the energy to get you off.

He’d been right. You were a fucking bitch.

And he wasn’t drunk or high enough to deal with this shit, so he didn’t know why he continued to put in the effort.

He hadn’t even got a blowie in return.

“Fine,” he bit out, stepping in line with you and walking through a busy street lined with packed bars. “What the fuck do you want me to call you then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hooked an arm through his for stability, while simultaneously wagging a finger at him, your eyes crossing at the motion with a distinct lack of sobriety that made Katsuki think that you were not only a hot bitch, but a cute one too. “I’m not doing your job for you.”

He snorted in amusement as he tried to steer you away from bumping into equally intoxicated passers-by.

His mom would fucking love you, that was for sure.

Just as the noise of the parties he’d left behind became nothing more than a distant hum and his buzz was beginning to wear off, the sounds and the salty scent of the sea had you sighing in contentment beside him, leaning into his side.

“You know, I’ve never had sex on the beach before.”

“Are you asking for a drink, or hinting at me to fuck you?”

“Both,” you confessed, looking at him all sultry like, thick black eyelashes, littered with flecks of shimmering glitter, framing large, wide eyes.

“I can only do one of those things right now, Princess.”

Your serene smile twitched as you attempted to bend down to untie the straps of your shoes, looking at him through hair that had escaped its style. “Close, but not quite right, Birthday Boy. Keep working on it.”

“What-the fuck-ever. Com’ere, you’re gonna break your fuckin’ face doing that.”

You squealed when he lifted you up and dropped you on the low seawall separating the sand from the desolate road.

“You have a dirty mouth, but you can be nice when you wanna,” you observed, as he squatted down and began fiddling with the tiny, thin straps.

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier, and I don’t think you're in any position to judge,” he retorted, finally getting one foot free and grasping the ankle of the second.

“Want me to call you the D word again? Because I will,” you said, squirming from atop your perch.

Again with the threats. He’d planned on getting his dick wet tonight, not speak to you more than he had when you were inside the club. It was supposed to be easier to get laid on holiday, but he found that he was working twice as fucking hard as he would back home.

Princess fucking suited you; a demanding, stuck up bitch of a Princess.

“If you don’t keep fuckin’ still, I’ll bring out the G word.”

The other shoe landed on the floor when you kicked out at him, and he had to be quick to stop you from toppling backwards.

“Fucks sake. You hate it that much it’s worth a kick in the bollocks?”

“Uhh, hmmm, Dick-”

“Oi, all this dick talk makes me think you haven’t gotten any since you came here, or do you want me to shove mine down your throat to get you to shut up about it. How ‘bout that?”

“I haven’t,” you admitted with a shrug, kicking your legs, and he turned away from you slightly in case a stray foot assaulted his jewels again. “Not any that were worth a postcard home anyway. You gonna change that for me?”

He raised a brow at your teasing smile and searching eyes. That’s what he’d been trying to do all night.

You slid down onto your feet, brushing against his… well, dick, and he had to bite back a groan at the friction when it brought it back to life.

“Oh wow, you’re tall!” you goggled, swaying backwards, and he had to grab your arm to stop you from cracking your head on the wall.

You were only just noticing that? Even in those crippling heels, you barely reached his chin.

“Are you finally gonna stop talkin’ and let me get the fuck on with it?”

Comically, you swiped a line along your lips to zip them sealed and nodded.

He looked over your shoulder to the reflection of the moon twinkling in the sea, waves crashing along the shoreline. There weren’t many people around; he could make this work.

“Right then,” he said, snatching up your heels before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

You screamed. “What are you doing?”

“You wanna get fucked on the beach, so I’m gonna fuck you on the beach.”

When his hand landed on your backside, you laughed in delight.

He was going to have sand stuck in his ass crack for the next two days along with all the fucking glitter, but it would be worth it to hear that again.

Walking on sand was fucking hard when carrying another person, so Katsuki stumbled some as he bought you closer to the tide, making you giggle and shriek some more when you slipped in his hold and he bought you down so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and you distracted him by kissing at his neck again.

This time he did fall, landing in the soft, dry, sand, bracing himself over you before he could crush you and end the night in the local A&E.

“Fuckin’ menace.”

“I like that one,” you smiled, hair fanning around your head like a halo, or a beached mermaid. “But still not pretty like you promised.”

You didn’t need a pretty name, you fucking looked it.

He shut you up by covering your mouth with his, and plugged the hole with a deep lick of his tongue.

You moaned, and rubbed against him, ankles locked behind his back and hips thrust up to create some friction.

Now he was getting somewhere.

With one hand skimming down your exposed thigh, the other took purchase under your neck, tilting it back even more so he could watch your eyes flicker beneath their trembling lids.

Fingertips curled around his shoulders, and smoothed down his back when he left a trail of opened mouthed kisses over your jaw line and down to your neck; sucking gently until he felt you relax, bones going lax, and a sigh escaping your lips.

Good, that should stop you from biting back at him.

Hooking a finger in the top of your dress, he tugged it down, and was happy to see no bra, breasts flattening and nipples already pebbled in the cool breeze.

Even better, less work.

“You have amazing tits,” he whispered, closing his hand around one and squeezing firmly until the flesh dimpled, thumb flicking over a flushed bud.

You shivered.

“Oh, you like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Saw you by the pool, knew straight away I wanted to get my hands and mouth on ‘em.”

“Yes please, like your mouth.”

He smiled, then widening his tongue, he licked up, right between the two, tasting your sweat and enjoying the way it made you breath hitch.

Katsuki kept kissing and licking, and kneading until he reached the centre, then he sucked harshly until your fingers were buried in his hair and your chest was expanding, back curving, and pussy rolling against his clothed cock.

Perfect.

Pliant.

Ready.

No one could ever say Birthday Boy wasn’t a multitasker; while you were busy enjoying the attention given to your chest, he’d slipped his hand down your thigh and had begun to tug on the bow at your hip.

The way the fabric loosened had you moaning with anticipation, and you were eager to get him in the same state of undress, wiggling your arms between you to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

He had to release you for a second to help, but that only gave you the opportunity to admire his luminous skin under the moonlight as he sat up to pull it over his head, showering glitter over his shoulders and your breasts as he shook his head.

Fuck you side ways - you hoped he did - he was delicious. You wanted to lick every inch of him.

Greedy hands explored a bare expanse of well-defined muscles, and it was then that you realised, you had contributed nothing to this dalliance so far.

You leaned up awkwardly - shit, you were so fucking drunk - and tried to crawl into his lap, your bare chest brushing against his, skin tingling at the contact as you palmed him to undo the zip of his fly, when his mouth attached itself to yours again.

“What’cha doin’?”

“Participating,” you mumbled, nipping at his swollen lips.

“Bit late for that. I was about to-”

You smiled, shaking your head, and finally settled yourself against him when you pushed him back on his haunches. “It’s your birthday, I think you deserve a present.”

“Oh no you don’t.”

You found yourself laying in the sand once more, him hovering over you, wrists pinned above your head, and a smirk so devilish splitting his face you wanted to see it while you sucked his cock.

You whined at the injustice.

“You don’t get to change the rules. I don’t know what those fuckers did, or didn’t do, to leave you so unsatisfied, but I have a fuckin’ flawless track record. You wanted to get dicked down good and proper on the beach so that’s what we’re doin’. One night with me is worth more than what those bellends could ever give you, and I’ll make this whole holiday worth whatever you paid for it.”

“Fuck, Birthday Boy. I think that little speech just did it.”

He chuckled, all throaty and gravelly, nose prodding at your cheek. “Not even close,” he whispered below the noise of the waves, “I promise. Now just lay back while I take my birthday present.”

Holy fucking shit.

He must not have been lying about your tits, because he was back on them in an instant, holding more gently and sucking more sensual, setting the little bundle of nerves to tingle sharply when he blew a cold stream of air across the wetness, causing your sweat to cool and prickle your skin, and your clit to throb uncontrollably.

Your breathing stuttered at the change of pace, and even when you felt his knuckles dig into his front pocket and heard the crinkle of foil, you were having a hard time thinking this could get even better.

Birthday boy was a dickhead like you’d known all along; with that dickbag, bad boy attitude you could smell from a mile away. Even if his snarky mouth hadn’t given him away, you were glad he knew how to use it. He’d probably be able to make you cum just like this, he’d already shown his talent back in the alley.

And even if he didn’t end up having the biggest cock out of his friends - you’d put money on it being the redhead - you were getting the impression that he knew how to use what he’d been given.

You could feel it, poking at your inner thigh, and he wasn’t small by any means of the word.

So maybe things could get better, as you watched his eyes, blown wide with lust, glowing from the luminescence from the glowsticks around your wrists, and burning a fire within them, yet he still managed to smirk around your nipple when he caught you staring and raising the condom packet into your line of sight.

Smug bastard.

He raised up once more, mouth glistening with smudged spit, and you followed suit to lean on your elbows to watch.

Deftly he ripped the wrapper open with his teeth and popped his shorts open at the same time, not even bothering to pull them down the whole way. He didn’t have a tan line, yet, but that didn’t matter anyway, his cock was so red and swollen you could spot it from the other side of the beach when he grasped it from between the linen flaps.

You bit your lip and your hips wriggled, thighs reflexively trying to clamp closed to relieve some of the ache and anticipation at the thought of where that cock would be in a few seconds, only to be prevented by his slim waist that sat snuggly between your splayed legs. You reached down to touch yourself instead, your panties falling away from the loosened bow, to feel the wetness from your previous orgasm and leaking more.

He slapped you with the head of his cock and precum smeared the back of your hand.

“Wait!” he admonished.

Your fingers stilled as he rolled down the condom and you whimpered at how agonisingly slow his movements were, until he grabbed at the back of your knees and wrenched them up to your shoulders, practically rolling you into a ball as you gasped in shock.

“Keep your ass up unless you want sand in your cunt,” he ordered, pushing his thighs more firmly beneath yours, keeping you anchored in place. “Now spread those pretty pussy lips for me, yeah?”

Getting over the sudden change in position, your index and ring fingers slid between your inner and outer lips, pulling them apart, and you shivered at the tingle of the salty air when you felt your arousal web, then split with an embarrassing squelch.

You weren’t usually such a bitch - like he’d pointed out - during sexual situations, but he’d been right to boil it down to you being so sexually frustrated with the lack of good dick that you’d lashed out. And now that inner shy girl was rearing her head as you held yourself open for him to gaze down at.

And he’d done this before, you could tell from his words of advice, and you had to resist the urge to ask him about it and cover yourself, which was surprisingly easy with the way he was looking down at you, full of greed and covetousness, like you were his first.

His answering groan at the sight of you spread out like a buffet, pussy open to the elements and waiting for him was enough to push that shyness down. Especially his accompanying words.

“Gonna fuck you good, yeah? Gonna make you remember me; have you picturing this every time you even think of going to the beach again.”

You shuddered at his growl, feeling the cool, wet latex of the condom, and the heat of his cock seeping through, rubbing against your folds and the sides of your fingers, gliding effortlessly through your slick, catching on the opening with each pass.

“Birthday B-”

“It’s Katsuki when I’m inside, got it?”

With that, he pushed in, and you quivered at the stretch, his spikey locks obscuring your view a little as he watched himself enter you.

“Fuck… so fuckin’ tight!”

He was so fucking big.

“Kats…”

His head whipped up and he grinned at you. “That’s it,” he encouraged, sinking in another inch. “You know how to be a good girl really, don’tcha?”

Withdrawing your hand from your burning sex to dig your nails in a toned bicep, you blinked, catching the starlight behind his glittering, fair hair. Was it the ecstasy that made them seem brighter, or had they always been like that?

Or was it him?

Fuck, you didn’t know. All you did know, was you’d never been split like this before; it stung like a slow stab, and it made you wetter, easing the slide as he shallowly sunk in and out, feeding you more until hips met ass and you couldn’t see the stars anymore, only two eclipses of black and red lighting up in the glow of your bracelets.

“You ready?”

What the fuck was he talking about? He’d already started.

“Come on, Sweetheart. Don’t blank out on me now, not after you made me work for it.”

The air was punched out of you and your cunt clenched.

He groaned at your reaction, but still managed to keep that smirk in place, adjusting his hold, the muscles of his back shifting beneath your palms so he could lean down closer and plant a hand beside your head, “Oh, you like that one, do you? Want me to say it again…?”

Oh shit!

Warm, moist breath hit the curve of your neck, sweat collecting in the hollows of your clavicles, and a slow lick traced the dip.

He was driving you crazy; cock buried deep, pussy unable to breathe with how much he filled you. But worst of all was that you couldn’t move, couldn’t get him to move, not with the way he had you tied up like a pretzel. All you could manage was to claw at his back and cling desperately.

“I asked if you’re ready. This shit ain’t difficult,” he mocked. “Maybe I should be talking to your pretty cunt, Sweetheart, because I sure as shit ain’t getting anything from your mouth anymore.”

Your cunt whined for him, squeezing again.

“I‘ll take that as a yes.”

Then he moved, pulling out all the way to the tip, then slammed back in, knocking the breath out of you once more, releasing it in a shocked squeal as your vision blacked out.

Now that he’d started, he didn’t stop. Though he did change up the pace with each alternate thrust; slow and agonizing so you could feel each bump of your insides, to hard and fast where you could hardly think, to swivels of his hips to explore more thoroughly and nudge at that sensitive spot so few had ever managed to find; usually resorting to them furiously rubbing at your clit to keep you wet or get you off - some not even bothering to give you that common courtesy, leaving you to do it yourself.

Birthday Boy didn’t need to do that. He just held onto the ankle that he’d hooked over his shoulder and cradled your head with the other so he could kiss you between breaths, and moans, and mewls and hisses.

It was the equivalent to standing in the eye of a tornado one second, then being pulled into its winds the next. It was like he was assessing you, finding a rhythm that pleased you the most. It was so unlike any other one night stand you’d had; the other’s had been quick, so caught up in wanting to reach that peak to really feel or experience anything else.

Here there was indulgence in the frenzy, appreciating the sounds and smells, and revelling in the touches. And he did touch you, everywhere he could, while you held on for the ride, toed curling in the sand as you clawed at his back, sucking at his neck when he needed to breathe and adjust his hold.

Fucking hell, he filled you so good you actually forgot his name for a moment, slurring your words between moans until he reminded you.

“Katsuki. Wanna hear you say it. Come on, you can do it.”

“Ka- Kat- Katssshuu…”

“Hah…? Close enough.”

Distantly, you registered the smirk in his voice, and you’d be damned if it didn’t turn you on more.

Cocky fucking bastard.

Here you lay, your world being rocked, literally; feeling the sand beneath you shifting every time he pushed in and dragged back out, getting lodged in your dress and sticking to your back.

Waves crashed, the salt on your tongue tasted bitter from the sea air, panting breaths kept pushing your breasts against his chest, guttural moans, excited gasps and cries fell from trembling lips, sharp smacks of skin on skin competing with your wanton keening and his word of encouragement. It was all too much; your senses assaulted until you didn’t know up from down, left from right.

Only him. Inside you.

Making this the best holiday fuck of your life.

Your world finally righted itself when he pulled you up into his lap, his grip on your ass helping you to roll and bounce on his cock. “Stay with me,” he grit out. “We’re nearly there.”

The moonlight blinded you as you looked up at its fullness, relishing in what you were doing and where you were doing it.

His movements seemed more frantic, less methodical, yet he was still able to keep the momentum going. Then his thumb pressed against your clit and you cursed.

“Shit! Katsu, ‘m gonna…”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” he asked innocently, and you knew he knew what it would do to you. His pelvis arching up at the exact moment it left his mouth, and you bit into his shoulder with a silent scream at his movement and chosen name for you.

Vivid colours burst behind your eyelids as you came, joints locking and muscles seizing, lungs punched of all their air.

Birthday Boy used you like a fleshlight in your orgasmic state, fingers biting into flesh as he helped you draw it out before he went rigid, slamming you down one more time and you felt his cock twitch around your tight walls, trying to suck him down further and expecting a flood of warmth in your belly which never came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…Katsuki, what the fuck!” you gasped, falling boneless against him, the film of perspiration covering your skin cooling quickly making it prickle, and you shivered, trembling in his arms as they came around you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he panted through a chuckle. “Now how ‘bout that drink?”

You were expecting to wake up to the mother of all hangovers, but instead you just felt like you hadn’t slept all night, muscles and bones throbbing with a delicious ache, and you supposed that was true. And thankful he’d made you drink that litre of bottled water before letting you fall asleep.

After him making your fantasy come to life, Birthday Boy had walked you along the beach back your hotel, and had taken you to a bar along the way to buy you a sex on the beach cocktail to… celebrate?

You didn’t know. He was fucking weird.

Then he’d walked you to his room without even consulting you about it - which was fine, you knew Mina and his friend, or friends, were probably already messing up the sheets - and he proceed to make good on his promise to fuck your face and then bent you over the balcony and fucked you all over again.

You smushed your face into the armpit beneath your head in remembrance of seeing a couple down by the pool as the sun came up over the horizon, their moans bouncing off the walls and converging with your own. You swear they changed positions on the sunlounger just so they could watch and be watched at the same time. Birthday Boy didn’t seem to mind, probably liked it, because he’d taken you harder, getting you to scream louder.

And it seemed he hadn’t gotten his fill after last night and early this morning, his cock poking at your thigh draped over his waist while his finger grazed against your sticky folds, sliding through the slick that was beginning to build again.

“What time is it?” you grumbled, vocal cords hoarse, stray smatterings of crusted sand and glitter itching your back when you arched out a faint stretch, the light filtering through the thin curtains highlighting the room as you blinked away any residual sleep.

“Late enough to miss breakfast,” he replied, voice deep and scratchy, “and we’re halfway to missing lunch.”

You rested your chin on his chest to see his eyes were closed, his head resting in the palm of his hand.

“Gonna have to be quick then.”

He cracked an eye open, a slit of red peeking through. “Wha’s that?”

“Coach is picking me up in a couple of hours,” you replied, hitching your leg higher so the tip of his finger could slip inside, and you hummed at the intrusion.

“Where you goin’?”

“Home.”

The other eye popped opened at that, prodding stopping, then withdrawing, and you were quickly flipped onto your back, your squeak turning into a giggle at the bounce of the mattress.

Oh, did he want to perform a recreation?

You were up for it.

“You’re leaving?”

With a bite of your lip, you nodded an affirmative. “‘s my last day.”

His brow drew down and you laughed at his expression, poking the wrinkles in his forehead.

“What? Were you hoping for a holiday romance, Birthday Boy?”

He looked like a pouting, petulant child when he answered, “No,” and it made you laugh harder, because he was still covered in glitter, even though you felt a twinge of jealousy in your gut at the thought that he'd find someone else, or many other someone’s, to spend his nights with.

“Then what you doing wasting me?”

He growled and made out like he was going to kiss you, and you would have let him, even with morning breath, when there was the sound of the balcony doors opening and a voice saying, “Oh good, you’re awake.”

You squealed at the unexpected disturbance, trying to pull the covers over your chest, but Birthday Boy didn’t move, keeping you pinned beneath him.

“Get lost, Bean Stalk.”

“You saying you don’t want an audience?” he asked with a cocked brow, smoke leaving his lips as he blew it out the sliding door and shutting it after.

“I’m telling you to fuck off,” he snapped over his shoulder. “I ain’t got time for your shit. How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“I think you should be giving me a little something after you and Denks left me to look after Ei while you were both getting your dicks wet. Nice tan line by the way,” he added at you, eyeing up your exposed hip and making you squeak.

Birthday Boy shifted, looking over his other shoulder at the empty bed beside his.

“Wherever the big bastard is, take him with you.”

As if on cue, a God-awful wretching started in the next room, the type that bubbles in your throat and leaves it feeling raw. It made you want to gag, imagining the smell. The hard splashes of rancid alcohol-injected bile hitting the toilet water only made it worse, remembering how much you drank just hours ago.

“Get him out of here.”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him here?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Birthday Boy spat, entangling himself from you and you were quick to snatch up the blanket while he slipped on a pair of form-fitting boxers. “Why didn’t you take him to your room?”

“People always feel more comfortable in their own bed when they’re ill,” he reasoned, sitting at the end of Eijirou’s.

Birthday Boy glared at his friend as he passed him, “He’s never fuckin’ slept in it.”

Hanta shrugged, but you saw the sly grin he wasn't even trying to hide.

“Fuckin’ useless, all of you,” he growled, grumbling about lightweights and interfering wankers as he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with his friend.

He was looking at you, and you felt entirely out of place, fiddling with one of the glowsticks still wrapped around your wrist, its phosphorescence long dulled, and its twin missing.

“I should probably go.”

You picked up your dress, debated on whether to change in front of him and decided not to when you couldn’t find your shoes or underwear. You don’t ever remember putting them back on, Birthday Boy having given you a piggyback back to the hotel.

Aww, you really liked those heels too.

“He’ll be angry if you leave without saying goodbye.”

You laughed, opening the door, and hearing Birthday Boy cursing at his friend who was groaning in agony. “He's probably already forgotten about me,” you said, before commencing your walk of shame.

Ordinarily, you hated airports; too many people, baggage knocking into your shins and rolling over toes, stinky, disgruntled passengers moaning and complaining from a lack of sleep or because of scheduling problems, but this time it wasn’t so bad.

You felt rather chipper; a small spark of anticipation lighting in your stomach with each step.

“Everything go okay? Flight on time?”

“Yeah,” you said. “So far so good.”

“Nervous?”

“Now that you’ve said it, yeah.”

A little dark space in the back of your mind had been growing with each hour, posing a dreadful question over and over again you didn’t want to even consider answering if it were true.

“You’ll be fine. And before I forget, hap-”

Looking around, you saw a young, pretty woman being picked up by a handsome man, twirling her around, their smiles wide.

A little girl holding a teddy bear and a look of expectant eagerness in her eyes as she searched for someone, her mother standing behind her with her hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Two guys were kissing like it was the end of the world, another couple were crying and hugging, sobs of joy and relief of being reunited after so long apart.

“Sorry Mina, I gotta go.”

“Oh, is-”

You cut the line and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

That black niche was now bathed in sunshine and smelt like the sea.

He looked just as you remembered, spikey, blond locks pointing this way and that, tight shirt clinging to delectable shoulders and biceps, hands stuffed in denim pockets, a scowl on his face as he was jostled; he was shuffling from foot to foot though, and you don’t remember him ever showing nervousness disguised as impatience as he tried to see over the ocean of heads in his way. He’d been confident and confrontational, cocky and antagonistic; it was weird seeing him this way.

To realise he was just as anxious, put your own fears at ease.

And when he finally caught sight of you, that trepidation marring his features smoothed out, his eyes widening and that smirk was back a second later.

There he was.

It was weeks after you landed back home, but one day, while you were waiting for the bus, your phone dinged with a notification.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first, nodding along to the music playing through your headphones, lost in a memory. It was when you’d taken it out to show the driver your pass, you saw a name you didn’t think you'd ever see or hear again.

Your heart had stopped.

Mina had been looking high and low for just a whiff of him after realising your despondency was because of a certain blond, and her encouragement for you to go to the local clubs and pubs had failed, but had ultimately given up when she’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t be found, and neither could his friends, not with only first names to go on. And you doubted she’d find them under the nicknames they used for each other.

You’d almost forgotten about him and that night.

After you’d shaken yourself from your stupor and taken your seat, the bus had pulled away from the stop, an advertisement flashing on the side of the shelter; the coming season's holiday deals with a picture of a couple sitting on a sunset lit beach.

Bakugou Katsuki has sent you a friend request.

Now, wheeling your case behind you, you approached, your own smile coming through.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Birthday Girl.”

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