As a society, we need to go back to understanding that strangers on the internet are, you know, strangers. I feel lately that I'm seeing a rise in 'An author I love blocked me because they took my comment the wrong way' posts on the ao3 subreddit, and then the comment is them calling the author a fucking bitch or something like that.
Don't do this. Tone doesn't translate well in text, and if you don't have a rapport with that author, they are not going to interpret, 'You're a fucking bitch' as, 'Author I hate you for being so talented and making me feel so keenly.' They're going to interpret it as you being an asshole. You can shit talk with your friends because you have an established relationship with them and can distinguish between playful banter and genuine anger. You do not have this with a stranger, no matter how much you like their fics. You will have a much more pleasant time in fandom and not get cockblocked from interacting with your favorite writers if you remember this.
.✦ ݁˖ summary: you hate your boyfriend's new car, but katsuki thinks you just need to get to know each other a little more ... personally
+ hickeys, pet names, car sex, brief pussy slapping, cum eating, oral (f!receiving), pwp, katsuki refers to the porsche as his girl once... just trust me, implied kirimina (yeah boohoo)
The restaurant is loud, overlapping conversations, the sounds of cutlery clashing with stained porcelain — it's overwhelming. And so is the feeling of Katsuki fiddling with the hem of your dress.
In all honesty, you're finding it difficult to concentrate. Even as the couple in front of you poke and prod for details about your, not-so-personal lives, your mind can't help but wander to something else…
"So," the redhead starts, twirling pasta around his fork before glancing up at you, "do you like Bakugou's new car?"
Ah, yes — the Porsche.
The newest addition to the list of things Katsuki really didn't need, but bought anyway because he thought it was cool — second only to the five foot All Might figurine currently collecting dust in his office.
Your boyfriend first brought up the idea on a rainy Sunday in your shared home — limbs tangled together, skin stuck to one another as you melt into the rise and fall of his chest. It was a quiet morning — one filled with love making and breakfast in bed.
So, imagine your disdain when Katsuki ruined it with his stupid questions.
"I wanna buy a Porsche" he murmured, voice muffled against your hair, "you're cool with that, right?"
No. No, you weren't.
In fact, you expressed how "uncool" you were with it for two whole hours. Sharp words and even sharper glares thrown at the blonde in hopes it might change his mind.
An argument you were confident he'd back down from when sense was spoken into him by the person he loves most.
"Katsuki, those cars are for players. They're for guys who only think with their dick, or who only want to fuck in said car after they practically bankrupt themselves for it" you huff, shoving open the bathroom with the blonde hot on your tail. "Besides, we don't need it."
"C'mon, princess. You know I'm not like that." he mutters, arms caging you in against the counter as he watches you through the mirror, eyes locked on yours.
A low laugh escapes your lips.
"You're not gonna try to have sex with me in your car? At all?" you question.
There's a beat of silence as you wait for his answer, but the faint blush on his cheeks says enough.
"If you hate it, we'll get rid of it. Just give it two weeks."
You blink, "No sex?"
"… No sex in the car, won't even touch you when we get in there."
But that didn't happen — of course it didn't. In fact, he barely lasted three days before he was going back on his word. There was nothing Katsuki hated more than his two girls not getting along.
So, he did what had to be done.
"'Suki, fuck. Hold on a second-" you whine, nails digging into the orange leather seat as your hips stutter against his tongue. The rough hands that trail over your waist are the only thing that ground you as Katsuki laps at your slit like a starved man.
Every flick of his tongue is addictive, the soaked muscle sucking at your clit before it pokes and prods at your weeping hole. Your moans swallowed by the walls of the Porsche, leaving each sound louder than it should be.
"Feels good, huh?" he asks, as if the tears in your eyes don't say enough. He pulls away from your heat, gracing you with a sharp spank to your clit — nipping at your thighs before peering up at you with a dazed look.
Your jaw goes slack as he trails two fingers along your folds, toying with the slick before bringing it towards his lips. The tight space only makes him feel closer, his voice lower, heavier — as if Katsuki was everywhere at once.
Your hips buck helplessly as you search for the feeling of his fingers pressing inside you — but it never comes. Whining into the stifling heat of the car and fluttering your lashes to glance at the man between your thighs — windows fogging as you catch your breath.
"Kats, please" you grumble, giving light tugs to his hair as you try to guide his face back to your cunt. He only laughs at your feeble attempts, wrapping his, much larger hand around yours and bringing it to his lips.
"You still hate the car, Princess?" he questions, rushing the words out before he's pressing small kisses against your knuckles. Your skin sticks against the leather slightly, a constant reminder of where you were even when you try to ignore it. "Nothing's…changed your mind?"
A loud sigh escapes your lips, head lolling back before its met with the cool, tempered glass of the window.
Stupid fucking car.
"I'll move it to a strong dislike" you quip, shifting your gaze from his, suddenly, intimidating stare.
"You sure? Those nail marks in my seat say otherwise" he teases, trailing his fingers back along your slit before he's easing them inside you. You arch off the seat as much as the space of the car will allow, hips grinding against his tongue as he moves alongside the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. "Wanna change your answer?"
And did you want to change your answer? Absolutely not. Then Katsuki and the car would win. But was the flick of his tongue making it harder to hold your own? Maybe a little bit.
"Mmm—fuckfuckfuck—yes, please. P-please, Katsuki." you gasp, his fingers only picking up in speed as he wipes his mouth with his free hand — you don't miss the knowing smirk on his face as he watches your body's reaction, the dim interior filled with short bursts of headlights through the tinted windows.
"There we go." he coos, moving up from his spot on the ground to hover over you, thick fingers continuing their assault on your sopping hole.
He smiles against your lips, planting a chaste kiss to them. His fingers coaxing you through your climax, as he whispers against the shell of your ear, "Doesn't it feel good to be honest?"
With the speed of his fingers, the humidity in the car and the way your mind can focus on nothing but him — you swear you see stars. Grinding against the padded leather as you ride out your high on the blonde's fingers.
The soft buzz of his phone cuts through the heated air, the brightness of the screen sending a brief ache to your irises.
He reads the message before he pockets it, already searching for where he discarded your panties not too long ago.
"What's it say?" you question, though it all comes out breathless.
A smirk ghosts on his lips before he speaks, "Eij and Raccoon Eyes will be there in 20" he says, guiding the lace onto your ankles before trailing it up to snap against your thighs. "We better get going"
…
"Hey, did you hear me? I asked what you thought about Bakugou's new whip" Eijiro smiles, giving a quick nudge to his girlfriend before finishing his sentence with a roll of bread between his teeth.
You try to ignore the flurries that creep up your body as Katsuki's fingers trail up your thighs, rubbing soothing circles on the bites he left on your skin mere minutes ago.
"Yeah," you smile, clearing your throat and bringing your glass to your lips. "...I love it."
BONUS!
kirishima: dude, you GOTTA tell me what you did.
kirishima: saw this sweeeet looking red subaru impreza the other day
kirishima: mina is NOT having it...
kirishima: any tips on how you got her to switch up like that?
a/n: i really wanted to give the porsche a name, but i couldn't think of anything ... thank you @kamislop for beta reading for me, i owe you my left labia <3 and thanks @izutwos for helping me with kiri's car 🙂↕️ also this is no shade to the porsche community here // yoohoo @lonelyfooryouonly & @satiiv-a comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! MWAH 💋
the realization that the unhealthy trait you’ve given your favorite oc for funsies is actually something you unintentionally do is like watching a five year old innocently and perfectly mimic your bad habits
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.
99 problems, but a wet dream ain’t one | katsuki b.
summary: katsuki had a wet dream about you — and now he can’t get the image out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. and when you find out? you’re sure as hell not making it easy for him.
warnings: best friend!katsuki, best friend!reader, reader is shameless, reader is down BAD, teasing, flirting, cursing, dirty talk, wet dream, smut, blowjob, gagging, spit, dom!katsuki, bratty!sub!reader, degradation, “this is a bad idea” typa fic, MDNI;
wc: 2,3k
Katsuki Bakugou has a best friend problem.
And it isn’t the kind of problem that can be solved by just talking about it, like normal friends do.
No. This is pretty difficult to solve.
Why?
One, because Katsuki doesn’t even talk about feelings or problems most of the time. He just bottles them up until something new appears and then forgets about whatever bothered him before.
And two, he definitely won’t talk about how a wet dream with his best friend made him feel.
Yeah. A wet dream.
He hasn’t had one of those since he was a fucking teenager, and it makes him feel so stupid. He is a grown man, for God’s sake. An established pro-hero. A respected one. And more recently?
A fucking loser.
A loser who now struggles to even meet your eyes while you’re having a simple conversation, because every time he does, he remembers how you looked in his dream — naked and sweaty and so fucking eager to suck him off.
And of fucking course his mind wanders further—
Would your mouth feel that good in reality?
Would it turn him on that much to have you on your knees between his legs?
Would your moans really sound that divine while doing your best to bring him towards pleasure?
Will—
“Earth to Katsukiii,” you suddenly speak, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him jolt slightly, his body shifting backwards on the couch.
“What!?” His head snaps towards you instantly, his hand coming up to slap yours away, ignoring the warmth that lingers from the brief contact.
“I have been talking to you,” you frown, scooching closer to him, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’,” he shrugs, but his body tenses the moment your chest brushes against his arm.
“You’re even pissier than usual,” you remark with a raised brow, studying him carefully. He scoffs.
“You’re imagining things,” he replies way too fast.
You frown deeper, squinting your eyes as you shift even closer, intentionally closing the space between you. You don’t miss the way he immediately leans away.
“Why do you run from me?” you ask, tilting your head.
“I like my space, weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.
“I like your space too,” you tease, nudging your knee against his.
He instantly moves his knee away.
“Shut up and watch this damn movie,” he rolls his eyes, trying to focus anywhere but you.
“Kats.”
No answer.
“Katsuki,” you insist again, leaning in and poking his cheek with your finger.
You feel it — the tension.
You notice the way his hands curl, palms balling into fists as he takes a slow, deep breath, clearly trying to keep himself together.
“What’s up with you?” you push again, your voice softer this time, but more insistent. You move even closer, until he’s practically cornered at the end of the couch, your body fully pressing into his.
“Tell meee,” you drag out, nudging him lightly. “What’s bothering you?”
“You’re bothering me,” he finally snaps, his tone sharp and annoyed, making you blink in surprise. “Even in my fuckin’ dreams,” he adds with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.
“What?” you ask, caught off guard. “You dreamt about me?”
“Are you deaf?” he rolls his eyes, letting out a short, dry chuckle.
Then—
Something shifts.
A slow, almost mischievous grin spreads across your lips.
“What kind of dream did you have?” you ask, lowering your voice slightly as you lean closer, your gaze locking onto his.
Before he can react, you move.
In one smooth motion, you swing your leg over him, then the other, settling yourself directly in his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his muscular legs.
His mouth parts slightly, frozen halfway open, one eye twitching as he stares up at you, completely caught off guard.
“Come on,” you push again, shifting slightly on his lap, your clothed core brushing against his crotch through his jeans.
“Did you have a wet dream?” you ask playfully, clearly teasing, not thinking anything of it — but the moment he flinches, looking away instead of snapping back at you, your smile falters just a bit.
“Did you really have a wet dream of me?” you ask again, this time more serious, your eyes searching his face.
“Piss off,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.
“Oh my god… I want to know right now,” you nudge him again, more insistent this time.
“I ain’t telling you shit, now get off of me,” he says, though his hands find your hips, gripping them instinctively.
You place your hands over his, pressing them down, smirking slightly.
“You know… if you tell me what it was about… maybe I can help,” you shrug casually, as if you didn’t just drop that.
He stares at you, completely dumbfounded, like you just said the most insane thing he’s ever heard.
“You gotta be joking,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Why would I be? It’s not like I don’t find you hot or anything,” you add, shifting slightly again in his lap.
That stirrs something in him.
He hisses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening without him even realizing it.
“I’m still not telling you,” he mumbles, jaw clenching.
“Okay…” you hum. “I’ll guess.”
You take a moment to think, then—
“Was I on all fours? Were you fucking me from the back? I know you like doggy style… or maybe something else? Like missionary? Or cowgirl?” you ramble, mostly to yourself, watching his reactions closely. “How about—“
“It was a goddamn blowjob, now shut up,” he groans, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud.
“Oh,” you pause, blinking. “A blowjob,” you repeat thoughtfully, tilting your head slightly.
“How was I able to fit all of that in my mouth?” you add, genuinely thinking about it.
He groans louder this time, hands leaving your hops and dragging them down his face.
“You are killing me, woman,” he mutters, voice strained, making you giggle softly.
“So you want it?” you ask, watching him closely.
He makes a pause, completely baffled.
Then—
“The hell? Who asks their best friend to suck them off?” he snaps, glaring at you.
“Who dreams of their best friend sucking them off?” you shoot back instantly, raising a brow.
“Smartass,” he scoffs.
“Pervert.”
“Oh, I’m the pervert? Not you, who’s been grinding on me for the past minutes?” he shoots back.
“I only suggested it because you seem stressed lately,” you say, your tone softer now, but still teasing. “And you clearly don’t wanna talk about feelings. Maybe I can help some… other way… you know?”
He goes quiet.
Really quiet.
His brows pull together as he stares at you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more conflicted — something you can’t quite read.
You’ve never seen that look on him before.
Not like this.
There’s hesitation.
Something heavy sits behind his eyes.
“You better not make me regret this,” he mutters finally, his voice lower now.
Your brows lift slightly, tilting your head. You didn’t know what to make of this words.
“Wha— what?”
His hands tighten on your hips, making you shift against his crotch for the nth time.
“Get on your knees.”
“Now?” You ask baffled.
“Yes, now. I’m in the mood and it’s your fault,” he reminds you.
You bite your lip to repress a smile.
Instead of a snarky comment, you just nod quietly and get off his lap. He spreads his legs wider the moment you move, watching you closely as you lower yourself onto your knees, settling between his muscular thighs.
Your palms come up to touch them, fingers gripping the material of his jeans as you slowly move them up and down, feeling the tension in his body, trying to ease it just a little.
You take your time.
Slowly moving upward, dragging it out, making it feel like it takes forever to reach his crotch… then his belt.
You start unbuckling it, your movements slow, all while looking up at him — watching the way he stares down at you, jaw tight, lips pressed together, hands resting stiffly at his sides.
You slide the belt out of the way, then undo his zipper, finally revealing his black boxers. Something hard brushes against your hand and he hisses above you, his breath catching.
Your fingers dip under the material and drag it down, exposing his happy trail that leads down to his cock. His own hands come down to help, pushing his jeans and boxers lower, lifting his hips just enough. The fabric bunches at his thighs, out of the way.
And then—
His cock springs free.
Long. Thick. Prominent veins running along the length of it. The tip flushed a reddish color, already leaking with pre-cum.
“C’mon, dig in,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing you slightly forward.
You don’t rush.
You lean in slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the way he reacts instantly — his breath hitching, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as you glance up at him through your lashes.
Your tongue slides out, dragging along his length, long, intentional strokes, collecting the pre-cum as you go. His fingers tighten in your hair.
“Don’t— be such a tease, damn it,” he grits out, voice rougher now, the veins in his neck more visible as he looks down at you.
You let out a quiet chuckle, but you give in.
Enough teasing.
You part your lips and guide him in, taking him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you go, until the tip presses against the back of your throat.
You pause there for a second, breathing steadily through your nose, adjusting — letting your body relax around him.
Then you start moving.
Slow at first.
Pulling back just enough before taking him in again, setting a rhythm, your tongue flattening along the underside, tracing the veins, working with each movement.
Spit and pre-cum mix together, making everything smoother, your lips sealing tightly around him.
All the while, your eyes stay on him.
Watching everything.
The way his teeth catch his lower lip. The flare of his nostrils. The crease forming between his brows as he tries to hold himself together. Low grunts slip past his lips, restrained, controlled — but you can tell he’s holding back.
That only makes you pick up the pace.
Your head starts bobbing more steadily, your movements more confident, more precise. Tears sting lightly at your eyes from the burn of your throat, but you don’t stop — you just adjust your breathing, keeping the rhythm consistent.
You want to hear him.
Really hear him.
“You happy now?” he asks, breath uneven, voice rough. “Having a mouth full of me?”
You let out a muffled moan around him in response, the vibration traveling through him as your tongue moves again, your pace never faltering.
“You greedy brat,” he chuckles, though his voice strains. He knows you — you like this, like putting on a show, like pulling reactions out of him.
His hips twitch upward when you increase your speed, your nails digging slightly into his thighs to steady yourself as his fingers tighten in your hair.
Sweat starts to bead at his forehead, sliding down as strands of blond hair stick to his skin.
“Mhm— keep— keep going,” he finally groans, his control slipping just a bit more.
You keep the same pace, consistent, precise, working him up without losing rhythm, your tongue and lips working together, spit and pre-cum already dripping down your chin. But is all worth it when you feel it—
The twitch.
The tension building.
A few more precise movements, a slight change in pressure, and then—
He breaks.
“Fuck, fuck, gonn a—“
His words are cut off as a low, deep moan escapes him. He releases, his body tensing as he spills hot loads of cum into your mouth. He closes his eyes at the feeling, barely able to keep his lips sealed.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his orgasm washing over him, then — he finally looks at you. You were still on your knees, still sucking and slurping like your life depended on it.
“Fuckin’ hell— you’re takin’ everything,” he lets out a weak, breathy laugh. And it was true, you make sure to not let anything go to waste.
You suck him dry.
And he lets you — for a short while.
Only when the sensitivity kicks in does he tug at your hair, trying to catch his breath and helping you catch yours.
“Shit— too much—” he groans, needing another second to breathe, to recover as you pull away, licking your lips slowly, cleaning the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you look up at him.
Taking him in.
He’s leaned back against the couch now, hair messy, chest rising and falling steadily, his cock flushed and glistening, resting against his stomach now. His pants and boxers are still pushed down around his thighs as he spreads his legs, taking a lot of space like usual.
But he wasn’t the only one looking messy… he noticed your state too.
And fuck if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
Your hair was deshiveled from his grabbing, your cheeks were flushed, lips plump and glistening with fluids… you looked so fucking pretty like this — on your knees for him, having his cum down your throat and looking at him with teary eyes — a sign of how hard you tried to take him.
You remain on the floor even if it wasn’t the most comfortable place, still close to him.
“So…” you finally break the silence softly.
His eyes snap back to yours, still catching his breath.
“Was this better than your dream?” you ask with a raised brow and a teasing grin.
But he won’t give you want to want. He already gave you enough.
He just scoffs at your question, rolling his head slightly to the side, trying to hide his smile.
Bakugo’s incredibly sweet girlfriend screws him senseless.
She is just the cutest , charming, and kind little thing he’s ever met. But…Bakugo soon found out she has an internal switch.
“Ooohhooo my—-ffffff—-Y/N wait wait baby—!”
“‘M sorry I—please you feel so good!”
She has a tendency to overstimulate them both when she is on top.
Did I also mention she on top a lot?
She’s smaller than him, happier than him, nicer than him, and apparently more….tenacious to say the least than him when it comes to sex.
The springs of the bed were at its wits end, the slaps of her wet skin against his echoed the hallway as she bounced up and down. Bakugo throw his head back onto the damp pillow, his nape latching onto his hickied neck , and his mouth a gape he feels another orgasm being drawn out of him. So much so his palms began to spark a little.
He apologizes—half way only because he’s mostly a babbling mess, but he looked so sexy. His chest was sweaty and red, though he was begging her to slow down he nips at his bottom lip with a smirk when she just grinds her hips harder against him. He’s definitely ganna get her back for this.
“S’good! Katsuki you’re—you’re so big! You’re so—mmm!”
She’s a mess too, but she can’t stop even if she’s sore between her thighs, even if her clit is swollen, even if her breast are tender. She needs one more.
Bakugo’s sweet girlfriend gets dick drunk so easily and he doesn’t complain, he just prepares himself.
“C’mere—“ The last bit of energy he uses to hold himself up he grabs her by the back of her hair and grips it to kiss her , “C’mon cum with me then, you can do it common—just like that.”
He swallows every moan, her body finally relaxing into his grip to let him take over from below and finish the rest of the job . His warm, slippery hands grab the bottom of her butt to grip and hold her still to thrust up into her. With every worn cry of his name he felt his dick twitch inside her.
Nobody would ever believe a girl as prim, proper, and quiet as her would ever be as loud and raunchy as she is right now.
The orgams crashes over them both, this one being a mess with him squirting inside her and her wanting to do the same so she begins to rub her clit between them both.
“Damn it…. you’re so hot.” Bakugo leans back to watch her quick little fingers rub fast curled to cum on him.
The wet mess drenched the small gap between them, finally slowing down he holds her close, She bites gently at his neck to leave another bruise, to then lick all the way up to his mouth. Moaning softly as the shivers his twitching tip is still leaving inside her.
Bakugo’s sweet girlfriend was insatiable. Her eyes were on him with a transition to lust to now full love once she regained her mind back, though they both were still a little sexed out she peppered him in sweet kisses. Just like she do before he leaves for work everyday.
“Thank you…I’m sorry..” She repeats on his lips between pecks, all he could do was chuckle weakly, it’s routine that she always do after cumming. Bakugo’s girlfriend can be so clingy.
When he lays her on her back her arms reach out to him, asking with her body to hold him, Bakugo kisses her tummy, eyes locked and dark gliding down between her hot sticky thighs,
“Lemme clean you up…” He takes a long stripe to her slit, his cum falling in his tongue, she bites her lip and hums happily while arching her back, “You can fall asleep I got you.”
Bakugo wouldn’t have it any other way though. He loves it there.
Idk I have so little patience for willfully ignorant people. You know the entire plot of Fruit Love Island or whatever the fuck but can't take an hour outta your day to look up why everything is falling apart around you? Embarrassing
Listen, nobody who's ever opened a history book says we didn't do that shit first. Pick an atrocity and chances are there was a time europeans did it on mass to someone for the sake of profit. The difference, is that we have for the most part put that behind us, while the US is just sinking deeper and deeper into it. We're not perfect, and we were a lot worse in the past. But it has been a while since we were the problem
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
titsay
ellievsbear
