hellooo this is me reminding u to write about sleepy bkg leaving ur apartment at night and begging for more kisses 🫡🫡
GO HOME! (2.5k)
— bakugou katsuki x reader
your boyfriend doesn’t want to go home.
cw: suggestive, swearing, pretty tame
“i can hear you not putting your shoes on!” you shout from your kitchen, refilling up your water bottle by your sink.
it’s nearing eleven pm on a weekday and you’re nearing the end of your bedtime routine. after finishing your final session of tussling in bed with your boyfriend, you sleepily got to showering and doing your skincare while bakugou was tasked to go back home.
you’re screwing your lid back onto your bottle, bag of popcorn under one arm as you step into your foyer. you find your boyfriend slumped in your chair for putting shoes on, doing exactly not that.
bakugou katsuki is in his thick grey socks, a random pair of black joggers he left at your flat and his oversized khaki hoodie. he looks handsome, always does, but this time he’s appearing a little disheveled. a flower wilting as the clouds begin hiding the sun.
you’re his precious sun with the energy to keep him happy and at peace, till he’s forcefully pulled from your grip.
his hoodie is unzipped, the right side awkwardly longer than the left from being dragged on in a tantrum. his white tee underneath is creased from yanking it over his head with a guttural sigh. he’s even got a water stain on it from hovering over you when you washed your face in the bathroom.
he’s got his head in his hands, legs spread with his travel duffle by his feet. he hasn’t even managed to grab his shoes off your neatly organised rack by your door.
you potter over to him, shaking your head softly with a sweet coo.
bakugou does not want to go home.
“baby. go,” you hum, dragging your slippered feet across your floor.
you tuck your body between his open legs, putting down your bottle and snacks to lightly tickle under his chin. you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever experienced from him, though it’s still miles below the ones he gives at work.
calloused hands find the bare backs of your soft thighs and lightly, he squeezes.
“you fuckin’ hate me,” he huffs, but his pout comes through. all his features softening under your attention, minus the twist in his brows. “gettin’ rid of me like this.”
you don’t miss the hickies on his neck, two maroon bruises because all you’ve done together these past few days is kiss, cuddle, eat and have sex. since bakugou became your boyfriend, he often forgets about his own apartment. his home is much larger, much more luxurious with built in speakers in the ceilings and a double headed shower. but he always lingers in yours, though he never outstays his welcome. even now.
“i don’t want you to leave but you need to pack for your mission tomorrow,” you smile, taller than him as he sits.
he feels delirious when he stuffs his face in your cotton soft stomach. you smell freshly showered, clean, cosy and like home. bakugou feels like his heart has been stabbed with a fork. he already misses you and you’re right in front of him.
it’s like he’s fighting the devil on his shoulder, to just stay over again tonight and get up early tomorrow. he can grab his shit from home and go straight there. he knows that plan will throw his whole day off tomorrow. also you hate waking up early.
he blinks at you slowly, like a cat that loves what he sees.
for you, it’s easy to get hot from his touch alone and that stare makes you nudge in closer to him. you want to sit on his lap, kiss down his neck again, despite being all over him an hour ago.
“you want me to piss off so you can watch love island,” he breathes, looking up at you with the sweetest ruby puppy dog eyes. there’s a scratchy tone to his voice, sleepiness clearly taking over though he fights it to spend a second longer with you.
you know for a fact you’re the only person in this universe that has seen katsuki like this. that thought alone makes you want to call up his job and say he can’t come in tomorrow. say he’s sick so you can cuddle his big head in your lap. who would you even call? the hero commission? his sidekicks? he is his own boss.
“i do have a load of episodes to catch up on since you’ve been here,” you say sweetly and he eyes your snacks, then your water bottle placed on the shelf beside him.
he’s a grumpy baby in a twenty seven year old, muscled man’s body. he scrunches his nose at the mention of that show. he hates all reality tv, so he says, even though he ends up asking you for details throughout every episode.
“just say you hate me,” he grunts, tilting his head up for a kiss.
you don’t give in just yet.
“i love you but you’ve gotta go. you’ll be even grumpier without sleep in the morning,” you smile.
he rolls his eyes. ever the dramatic one. “yeah, yeah. i get it. love you too.”
you stand there for a few moments. his grip on your thighs getting tighter, his chin in your stomach. he rubs his cheek against your palm, his stubble prickling against you with every move.
“you need to put your shoes on—,”
“you look so pretty like this,” he murmurs, even biting down on his bottom lip.
you narrow your eyes at him. you know exactly what he’s doing and it usually has a hundred percent success ratio.
he pulls off you, keeping his hands on your thighs to look down your body. stupidly, it causes you to look down at yourself too.
your soft pastel pink boy shorts because you get hot at night. your comfy low cut navy strappy top, that has seen better days but you have no need to replace yet. your nipples poke through the fabric and you don’t miss bakugou’s gaze wafting over them with his tongue poking his cheek.
he looks as if he’s about to moan or take a bite out of you. you can’t tell yet. you don’t mind either.
“katsuki, stop it. you were supposed to leave an hour ago,” you look to your clock beside your front door. “an hour and a half ago.”
bakugou grits his teeth then relaxes by kissing the strip of your stomach between your vest and shorts. he releases the quietest whine.
“i wanna stay here with you.”
even though he’s being dramatic, you’ll see him in less than a week, every word releases tingles down your spine.
you press a kiss to his lips, to which he eagerly pushes back. his hands sneak up to your waist holding you with purpose. it’s only a peck but everything he’s feeling is translated through.
“you’re killin’ me,” he says onto your lips.
“it’s not me, baby. you have the world to save tomorrow. you can make love to your girlfriend when you get back,” you say tenderly, brushing your thumb over his cheek.
“i’m givin’ you a good fuckin’ when i see you again.”
“you always do,” you shrug playfully and bakugou chuckles, shaking his head in resignation.
“fuck. fuck my life,” he grunts to himself, pulling his slides off your shoe rack and shoving them onto his feet.
“it feels like you’re obsessed with me, kats,” you giggle to yourself, stepping back so he has space to stand up and sling his duffle over his shoulder.
he raises one eyebrow, a huffy laugh releasing from his throat.
“hm? you think?” he takes his hand through his hair, a light pink blush on his cheeks from your attention. “‘course i fuckin’ am. i’m comin’ right back to get you when i’m done.”
you lift up on your tiptoes, hands on his pectorals, “if you say so.”
“i do say so. i am sayin’ that,” he mumbles, hands finding your ass to lift you with ease.
you wrap your legs around his waist so he doesn’t have to bend to kiss you.
“next thursday, okay?” he kisses the corner of your lips, feeling your cheeks rise. “and still text me. i’ll have my phone on me in the evenings.”
you smooth down his eyebrows with your thumbs.
“yes, dynamight sir,” you drawl, but you lean in to peck him, a noisy kiss that has him chasing after you. he moans softly.
“another.” he whispers.
with your arms wrapped around his neck, you give his bottom lip a nibble, one that causes an exasperated groan. then you slot your lips over his, pushing your tongue into his mouth to tangle against his. it’s long, wet and pulses throughout your body.
you push your chest against his as if you’re trying to merge into one, bakugou’s fingertips sinking into your ass cheeks.
it’s you that pulls away, landing two kisses on his lips for good measure.
“baby, no.” he complains.
since you’re the only one with self control here, you tap his shoulder.
“put me down now. you’ve got to go.” you say controlled and bakugou throws his head back in annoyance, “need you wide awake on the field so you don’t get hurt. i don’t wanna see a scratch on your pretty face when you come back.”
that gets him putting you down, your feet finding the floor. since getting with you, he’s much more mindful of his recklessness and getting hurt. bakugou doesn’t want to scare or upset you. you’ve become his beacon of light, his conscience and answer.
“my pretty face?” he grips the handle to his bag, a smirk rising. he’s still taking in his last few seconds.
you nod, “yes. come home safe to me.”
“i always do. don’t have to doubt me, princess.”
the pet name gets you rolling your eyes to hide how it makes your stomach do flips. he undoes both your door locks and slowly opens it with his shoulder like it weighs a tonne.
as if it’s becoming real all of a sudden, you throw yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around him in a cuddle under his hoodie. you feel complete once you stuff your cheek between his pectorals and you squeeze him tight as thick arms cradle you in. katsuki’s always warm and toasty, a tall standing mattress for you to fall asleep on.
despite you urging him to leave, it doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t ache.
“i’ll miss you,” you say, eyes squeezed shut.
you’re just as dramatic as him, you just hide it better. you’ll see him next week.
“i’ll miss you. gonna think about you when i’m on the camp site shittin’ in the woods.”
your laugh makes bakugou’s chest swell.
“you’re so annoying.”
he shrugs.
with all the power he’s ever possessed in one single time, bakugou lets you untangle from him.
“i’m gonna go now.” he looks down your empty corridor, “i could stay over tonight and leave in the mornin’—.”
“you’re not waking me up at three.”
he turns to you with a frown.
“fine. another kiss, to wish me well,” he demands.
that you can do.
a smush of your lips, you gripping his tee as his hand cups your chin.
“another. for good luck.”
you huff playfully but still you give him another kiss. one that has you opening your mouth and letting him slot his tongue in between. it goes on longer than you mean, with you dragging him closer and his hands land back on your hips.
it’s when he groans without realising, a hardening bump in his waistband pressing against your stomach.
“go now!” you say, pushing him off you and bakugou drags a palm down his face.
“fuck,” he breathes, shaking the horny off his body. not the time. “i’ll see you next week. lock the door behind me. all of them.”
“i always do!”
he flickers down your body, one step into the corridor.
bakugou bites down on his bottom lip, “i love you. can’t wait to see you again.”
you awe, gripping the door and peeking out, “i love you too. i’ll keep you updated. even send you some selfies.”
bakugou nods rapidly, “please. i won’t be able to reply quickly but i will.”
“okay, i’ll see you later.”
he’s about to step away, he swears he is though he looks back at you peeping at him.
“one last kiss then i’m outta your sight,” he promises.
you eagerly pull out from behind the door, “last one! then you have to go!”
“yeah, yeah, yeah—,” he’s rough in the way you love, placing a palm flat on your back to pull you into him. you practically fall into his arms but quickly you’re up on your tiptoes.
it’s a kiss with the energy that it could be the last one you ever have. a hero going off on a mission and leaving his beautiful girl back home. though this isn’t one of his high risk ones, heck he’s going on his own because he’s so capable. yet still the day he returns feels like forever away.
you practically eat each other's faces, unable to stay appropriate down to your last moments together. you twist to the left as he goes right, holding the back of his head so he stays close. he’s not shy to push his cock into you, letting you know all the ways he will miss you.
it’s loud and messy. it’s trying to remember every inch of him so you can recall it in your nights alone. it’s bakugou groping every part of you he can get his hands on so he can mark you as his.
your blonde sucks on your tongue and you don’t mean to palm him but he ruts into you at the contact. you moan as pleasure sparks beneath your skin, the length of him growing cupped in your palm. you’re wondering if there’s time for another session even though he was meant to leave two hours ago.
the kiss only ends because you’re both breathless, using your last breaths to connect with the other. there’s giggles from you and three extra pecks before you force yourself to step away, using your front door as a shield from your riled up boyfriend.
you watch as he adjusts himself, rolls back his shoulders in a stretch and tries to screw his head on straight.
“goodbye now. for real, kats.”
he nods sharply, stretching his jaw side to side. “bye baby. i’m hard now.”
“that’s your own fault for begging for more kisses,” you grin.
he pouts, “how couldn’t i when you look like—,”
“bye katsuki. my tv is calling me!”
“fuck,” he groans, holding onto his bag strap and throwing his head back, “bye princess.”
comments n reblogs are appreciated. part 2 comments are deleted.
Sunnyyyy I need you to elaborate on best friend Nanami being a dom
Teehee :3
CW: chubby fem reader x Nanami Kento, dom/sub, smut
Nanami is your friend. You've been friends for some time, nothing too close but you also know how the other is feeling with just a look.
And today you seem to have a look on your face that just tells Nanami everything. So he asks what's wrong, of course, and you explain that you're tired of making decisions all the time. You just want a break from all the responsibilities and the worry of having to make a choice. Maybe you just wish for the times when you were a kid again, as he often does too, but you still want your independence when it's convenient for you. You ramble, trying to fogure out your emotions as you talk.
Nanami is an attentive listener, something you've always appreciated about him, and he always gives such insightful advice. He suggests, with a pink in his cheeks, that you search out for someone who could make choices for you. He's vaguely aware of dom and sub relationships and he's read that it goes past the bedroom and into every day life, so maybe that would be beneficial to you.
Ah, but you don't want to ask a stranger to make such important decisions for you. What if they're a creep or have bad intentions? What if they try to take advantage of or hurt you? No, it would be too dangerous for you, you've had your fair share of experience with bad men and you'd rather suffer than put yourself in a scary position like that, trusting your life with someone you don't really know.
He's quiet. He twiddles his thumbs as he stares at his coffee.
He offers first, hesitantly. He doesn't mind taking responsibility for you. You're his friend, after all. He can easily make decisions for you if it would make your life simpler and less stressful.
Oh, you could never ask him to do that! He's so kind to offer, but you know how stressful his life can get, and you don't want to add to that stress—
He insists that you wouldn't be. He wouldn't do anything he wasn't comfortable doing, and although he doesn't have experience in this kind of thing, he's willing to try it out if it will help you.
You ponder. You think.
You agree.
It starts simply enough: he'll decide what you wear to work, if you wish. You usually cycle through the same few oufits without thinking, and he mixes up your choices a bit. He digs through your dresser and the back of your closet. He chooses your outfits for the week. He helps you set everything up so you can just get dressed and go in the morning. It truly helps. Such a small decision seems so big for you sometimes, so it's nice to not have to think about it.
He also helps you decide what to eat. At the beginning, it's deciding on takeout, what to get at the restaurant he helps you pick. You're so relieved that he knows what you like and don't. It makes it easier to have someone else choose for you.
You briefly complain about deciding what to make for dinner at home, so he offers help there as well. He will call in the morning to see if you need help, and the times you do, he arrives at your apartment after work to cook for you. He's a fantastic cook, the meals he makes are nutritious and delicious. You're grateful. He often makes enough for both of you and eats dinner with you, at your request.
You're spending a lot more time together, which you like. You've always enjoyed his company, he's such a pleasant person to be around.
You offer to pay him for helping you, but he quickly declines. He says that he enjoys helping you take care of yourself and doesn't need payment in order to do so. Your heart flutters with joy.
He helps you for quite some time. He only helps when you ask. He doesn't intrude on things you really want to do. He makes sure you do tasks that help you rather than hurt you. He wishes you good morning and good night, he checks on you throughout the day. He makes sure you take a shower and brush your teeth. He helps you with chores that seem too daunting.
It's honestly extraordinary. You've never felt so relaxed in your life. You're worry free most of the time. It's delightful.
But... you have needs, needs that you try to meet yourself and sometimes fail to.
It shouldn't come as a surprise that you masturbate to relieve stress. You have a plethora of toys to choose from, but sometimes it's just too much to deal with. God, you wish you had a partner again to take care of you in bed, to give you release and help you clear your head after a long day. Masturbating is fine, but it's so much work sometimes, and you're frustrated.
Of course Nanami notices.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he asks over dinner one night.
"Hm? Oh! Oh, it's nothing, really."
He gives you that look, the one that tells you that he knows you're lying.
"Really! It's nothing. Besides, it wouldn't be fair for me to bother you with anything else after you've done so much for me already."
Again, he gives that look, and you know that you can't fight him on this.
So you sigh and shyly admit: you admit that you're tired of having to please yourself sexually, that you're exhausted from having to give yourself pleasure. You know it's selfish to want others to take care of you in every way, but you're so tired from work and you wish you could just get a break when you come home, someone who sees how overworked you are and helps you destress from it all, who kisses you and loves you and makes you feel amazing after being so stressed.
You grow quiet, embarrassed by your admission. There's a pause in the conversation, and you're worried you've exposed too much of yourself.
"I could help you, if you'd like."
Your eyes shoot to him. His face is a bit pink, but he seems completely serious.
"I... I couldn't ask you to do such a thing. You've done so much for me already, and I don't want to ruin what we have, I—"
"Y/N." Your name makes you go silent. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't comfortable doing it. It's up to you. I am willing to help, but I won't force you. You always have the final choice at the end of the day."
It's no wonder that you end up in your bedroom after the dishes are washed and set to dry.
You're between his legs, back to his chest, clothes discarded while he stays dressed. It's embarrassing at first, when he starts touching you, but soon enough you're relaxing in his hold and keening at his touch.
It starts with your arms and shoulders, then your breasts, kneeding and squeezing and pinching and pulling. He kisses your neck all the while.
"You're doing good. Just relax, okay? I'll take care of you."
By the time he grazes your mound, you're absolutely soaked, your cunt begging for attention. And he gives it to you, oh does he give it to you, with the way he circles and rubs your clit until you tremble and cum, and the way he sinks a finger in soon after, a second and third finger following in time. It's unfair how easily he learns what you like, where to touch, fingers curling while his opposite hand plays with your breast.
"Good," he whispers as you cum again, "very good, Y/N. Would you like more?"
"Mm-hm!" you whine, curling your hips into his hand, leaning against him.
God, it's positively delightful the way he plays with you. You don't think any of your previous partners have put such effort into making you feel good. Jesus, at this rate you'll fall in love with him if you're not careful.
You're shaking with delight in his hold, soon turning your head to kiss at his neck and jaw. He turns his head and allows his lips to meet with yours, making you moan into him, yet another orgasm creeping up on you.
You've lost count of how many times you've cum, but you eventually ask for a break, your clit overstimulated. He pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean as you slump against him.
"Are you alright?" he asks, running a hand over your stomach. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine," you breathe, turning your face into his neck.
"Are you tired? Would you like to stop?"
"What about you?" you ask, looking up at him. "Don't you want to feel good too?"
He huffs.
"Making you feel good makes me feel good. I'm fine, really."
You grind yourself back into his lap, making him gasp.
"Doesn't feel like you're fine to me."
"You already came so much. It would be selfish for me to ask for such a thing."
"After everything you've done for me, it's the least I could do."
He kisses your cheek softly.
"I'm fine, truly. Don't worry about me. Let's get you ready for bed."
He gets you up, guiding you to the bathroom where he wipes you down and gets you to brush your teeth. You're pouting when he helps you into pajamas and tucks you into bed.
arguing with your knight and deciding to be petty and say “shouldn’t you be addressing me from your knees only” except watching him drop down to do exactly that makes you feel like you just immediately lost ….
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