you tell exboyfriend!sukuna to eat shit but he's a patient man. mdni.
there are days where no amount of porn can make you come. you go through your twitter likes, your tumblr rebloggs, even some audios you've got the title glued on your brain and after a few hours of two fingers deep in your pussy it still won't gush.
when you called him, you told yourself that was why you were doing it. 'cause the dick is good and the other guys on your radar just weren't doing it for you. that itchy, heartthrobbing, downright desperate desire to have him make you cum. that all you needed was to feel good a little, relax a little and then you'd be done and over this.
as if.
"'kuna, I can't" you can only hope your desperation sounds cute to him 'cause to yourself it's straight up pathetic. you guess it hasn't even been twenty minutes since he arrived at your place. eyes hopeful when you thought they'd be full of lust. face lovestruck and you wanted to be mad at him, over it, when you actually felt relieved.
he pushes his face deep on your neck, kissing and inhaling and just vibrating with how bare you sound. "yeah? want 'kuna to make you cum, baby?"
"wan' it s'bad." it slips out wet and so, so thrashed. it's been weeks since you've last had it and you can't take it anymore. days upon days of relying on your hand, humping your pillow to numbness and you need him to take it from you. to get in the driver's seat of your body and run you down a fuckin' cliff if he has to.
"easy, baby." his breath is hot on your ear and it makes you squirm. it's embarrassing how wet you are. so dependent on him that you consider bringing it up in therapy 'cause there's no way a person needs someone else this much.
you bring a fist to your eye, huffing a wet sound. thoughts running away easy as always. lips pouting, judging yourself to death as he fingers you deep, then goes up to your clit, then back all the way.
"can't believe you're doing this." his rough words catch you off guard. eyes widening as his head lifts from your shoulder. you're mortified from how disapproving he looks down at you. and you're faintly considering if he could read minds 'cause how else would he know. "can't believe you're bein' mean to my girl when I'm trying to make her cum."
"no, 'kuna. swear I'm nice." you're desperate to not fall on his naughty list. god, please. anything but him thinking bad of you.
"you behaving yourself in there?" the hand not up your cunt, the one which has been resting on top of your head the whole time taps your temple gently. you nod, eager. his palm goes flat on the side of your face, holding your cheek. thumb teasing your pout, running over your bottom lip.
"yeah, 'kuna. I'm being good." your cheeks go red at the way he chuckles because it's so fucking obvious you're egging him. asking in that non-asking way. stirring him to say the stuff you need to hear when it's been so long since you came really nice and even longer since he last fucked you.
smirk stapled to his face in that infuriating smug way, annoying the shit out of you with how much you love it, making your chest hurt with how much you missed him loving on you. "hope so, princess. I'd hate to make a bad girl come."
you feel it clogging your throat and the sound is out before you think to stop it, wet and hoarse and real. "but I'm good!"
he mimics the pout on your face, tone sweet and condescending and itchy just how you like it. "yeah? you're good?"
you chirp back all too eager to save your face. "I'm good!"
"you are, baby. you my good girl." his fingers are barely leaving your cunt, stuffed deep up your hole, but his voice is sweet. it drips and his words come out slow, because he loves how much you need him. loves to be your man. hates that you kept it from him for months. "this why I make you come, baby. 'cause you're a good girl. that's why I'll give ya that good dick."
and you're whining now. straight up wailing on his face. wet cheeks and a hand fisting his hair, arms around his neck, crowding him, pressing your chests together 'cause you want all of him. all of him over you and on you and in. your ryomen. your 'kuna who you said three months ago you didn't need and definitely could live without while he stood defeated at the door of his apartment, from where he watched you leave. his eyes stingy then as he told you it wasn't over and he was gonna wait. wait and see. cause what else could he do when he felt so in love with you it made his heart hurt.
the memory overwhelms you with a sense of guilt. chest tingly and you bring your hands to hold his face over yours. he needs to know. he deserves to and now must not be the right time but fuck it maybe it's the only time you'd let yourself say it. "love you."
and you cum. his fingers neverstopping as you cry yourself to the edge on it. finally falling down the cliff and letting yourself have it. have him. in all the ways he's been trying to get you to. and the way he looks in your eyes, promising, devoted, makes you scared shitless but also freakin' grateful for how you lucked the fuck out.
because he wanted you too, and no one was stealing it from him. not even yourself.
– I don't take requests, so don't bother asking for a part 2 or for anything specific. I'll talk to you about whatever though so if you bring something in I might expand it.
– this is a +18 blog. not every post will be flagged but it's media written by an adult for other adults to read. I have no interest talking to you if you're not on your big person age.
– fem!reader blog. my writing will mostly refer to reader as a female woman, so let's establish that.
– no incest, scat, r/pe stuff, cnc. huge turn offs so don't even bother sending them in, you're also not gonna see that in my writing either.
you tell exboyfriend!sukuna to eat shit but he's a patient man. mdni.
there are days where no amount of porn can make you come. you go through your twitter likes, your tumblr rebloggs, even some audios you've got the title glued on your brain and after a few hours of two fingers deep in your pussy it still won't gush.
when you called him, you told yourself that was why you were doing it. 'cause the dick is good and the other guys on your radar just weren't doing it for you. that itchy, heartthrobbing, downright desperate desire to have him make you cum. that all you needed was to feel good a little, relax a little and then you'd be done and over this.
as if.
"'kuna, I can't" you can only hope your desperation sounds cute to him 'cause to yourself it's straight up pathetic. you guess it hasn't even been twenty minutes since he arrived at your place. eyes hopeful when you thought they'd be full of lust. face lovestruck and you wanted to be mad at him, over it, when you actually felt relieved.
he pushes his face deep on your neck, kissing and inhaling and just vibrating with how bare you sound. "yeah? want 'kuna to make you cum, baby?"
"wan' it s'bad." it slips out wet and so, so thrashed. it's been weeks since you've last had it and you can't take it anymore. days upon days of relying on your hand, humping your pillow to numbness and you need him to take it from you. to get in the driver's seat of your body and run you down a fuckin' cliff if he has to.
"easy, baby." his breath is hot on your ear and it makes you squirm. it's embarrassing how wet you are. so dependent on him that you consider bringing it up in therapy 'cause there's no way a person needs someone else this much.
you bring a fist to your eye, huffing a wet sound. thoughts running away easy as always. lips pouting, judging yourself to death as he fingers you deep, then goes up to your clit, then back all the way.
"can't believe you're doing this." his rough words catch you off guard. eyes widening as his head lifts from your shoulder. you're mortified from how disapproving he looks down at you. and you're faintly considering if he could read minds 'cause how else would he know. "can't believe you're bein' mean to my girl when I'm trying to make her cum."
"no, 'kuna. swear I'm nice." you're desperate to not fall on his naughty list. god, please. anything but him thinking bad of you.
"you behaving yourself in there?" the hand not up your cunt, the one which has been resting on top of your head the whole time taps your temple gently. you nod, eager. his palm goes flat on the side of your face, holding your cheek. thumb teasing your pout, running over your bottom lip.
"yeah, 'kuna. I'm being good." your cheeks go red at the way he chuckles because it's so fucking obvious you're egging him. asking in that non-asking way. stirring him to say the stuff you need to hear when it's been so long since you came really nice and even longer since he last fucked you.
smirk stapled to his face in that infuriating smug way, annoying the shit out of you with how much you love it, making your chest hurt with how much you missed him loving on you. "hope so, princess. I'd hate to make a bad girl come."
you feel it clogging your throat and the sound is out before you think to stop it, wet and hoarse and real. "but I'm good!"
he mimics the pout on your face, tone sweet and condescending and itchy just how you like it. "yeah? you're good?"
you chirp back all too eager to save your face. "I'm good!"
"you are, baby. you my good girl." his fingers are barely leaving your cunt, stuffed deep up your hole, but his voice is sweet. it drips and his words come out slow, because he loves how much you need him. loves to be your man. hates that you kept it from him for months. "this why I make you come, baby. 'cause you're a good girl. that's why I'll give ya that good dick."
and you're whining now. straight up wailing on his face. wet cheeks and a hand fisting his hair, arms around his neck, crowding him, pressing your chests together 'cause you want all of him. all of him over you and on you and in. your ryomen. your 'kuna who you said three months ago you didn't need and definitely could live without while he stood defeated at the door of his apartment, from where he watched you leave. his eyes stingy then as he told you it wasn't over and he was gonna wait. wait and see. cause what else could he do when he felt so in love with you it made his heart hurt.
the memory overwhelms you with a sense of guilt. chest tingly and you bring your hands to hold his face over yours. he needs to know. he deserves to and now must not be the right time but fuck it maybe it's the only time you'd let yourself say it. "love you."
and you cum. his fingers neverstopping as you cry yourself to the edge on it. finally falling down the cliff and letting yourself have it. have him. in all the ways he's been trying to get you to. and the way he looks in your eyes, promising, devoted, makes you scared shitless but also freakin' grateful for how you lucked the fuck out.
because he wanted you too, and no one was stealing it from him. not even yourself.
hey girlies! just here to thank everybody for the rebloggs and likes on my stuff. I've been reading fiction from a very young age (like everybody lol) but just recently I've felt free enough to write my own. <3
thanks for the support and feel free to chat with me through the asks :))
that one time husband!sukuna can't believe what he heard
“what the fuck did you just say to me?” blaming his tired ears, sukuna incredulously asks, assuming he heard her wrong.
he had to, because honest to god, there was no way his worst nightmare turned real two damn seconds before he turned the lights off to finally go to bed.
she looks at the floor, suddenly very aware of his hand hovering over the light switch. tongue heavy on her mouth. she might as well have screamed freeze! with the way her words got sukuna’s feet glued to the carpet of their bedroom. his deep, rich ivory eyes cut straight into her timid ones. she looked up at him all deer caught in headlights, gaze slippery, ping-ponging from her toes back to his face. as if she wasn’t the one to run a truck over him.
I want a divorce.
sukuna was no fool to the air between the both of them. or lack of. the words unsaid filled every cubbyhole found empty in the house, leaving no space for oxygen.
they had been dependent on the other before. flowing together in a way it was hard to say where one begin and the other end. bound with no loose threads and no lousy seams. now they were bumpy and chopped and scattered and so fucking lonely. he’d get up before she’d brew the coffee and arrive so late the pans were already drying in the sink. they were never really on time for each other aside from when they were with ren-
and god, ren.
their boisterous, mouthy, bright three year old son who’s tucked under a lenghty lightning mcqueen duvet, sleeping in the room across theirs, dreaming of monster trucks, motor bikes, racing cars and anything with wheels, really. anything loud and flashy and not shaky like his mother’s breathing.
“sorry, ryo. I’m-”
“don’t fucking call me ryo when you’re leaving me. don’t fucking do that.” his words too fierce to help air greet her lungs. and she tries. she presses the palms of her hands together and tilts her head up in a movement that looks pathetic. eyebrows pinched ‘cause there’s just no fucking oxygen left.
“can you cut it?! I’m talking to you nicely.” she reprimands him like only a mother could, leaving sukuna all the more desperate to make it stop. a yeah! you’re nicely telling me to fuck off! running off his tongue with the way he was unable to hold himself together.
“is this what you think it is?” her lips tremble around her words. he scoffs loud and dramatic and hurt. his eyes never really lost that look of distraught that fell over from her words and with each passing second his own words were getting sharper and sharper with the need to make her stop ‘cause it fucking hurts.
“well, usually when a wife tells her husband she wants a divorce she’s not exactly letting him stick around for long. will you be the first to do so?!”
“I’m tired, ryomen. I’m so, so tired.” and that shuts him up. her tone helpless, and he knows.
he knows, he’s not so dense as to not notice how she leaned away from his every touch. away from all that tried her. how she’d slip to their room any chance she got. how she rarely did anything other than sleep whenever she was free to do so. it was napping when ren was napping, and napping when sukuna had the boy and napping when a show grasped his wandering eyes and no dancing. no dancing and singing. no making-up songs and god- no laughing. no fun whatsoever and keeping ren glued to her chest whenever she had him. holding on to him like christ to his cross.
anything to keep her away from the world, from him.
“baby, please-”
“ryo, not now.”
“but listen-”
“mumma?”
temperature dropped and suddenly they go from dante’s inferno to the north pole. his son comes in on unsure feet, tiny shoulders hesitant, eyes big and searching as he holds onto the plush he’d never sleep without.
“too loud! tiggy can’t sleep!” ren shakes his tiger teddy, lifting the plush to his parents with an alarmed look on his tiny face, as if to prove the teddy really couldn’t sleep with all the noise.
at the sight of their baby boy, all the fight left both parents. it ran under the rug at the appearance of chubby cheeks. all the anger, the hurt. it all gave space to a dull ache that thumped her chest. she reached out for the little boy, bringing him into her arms.
“I’m sorry, bear. mama and papa got excited for a bit.” a scoff came from the slumped body by the door. defeated, sukuna thought excited was definitely a way to put it. but even sukuna wasn’t so dense as to not know now wasn’t the time. not anymore. not when their baby boy was up and curious about the noise.
“sorry, bud.” he let scape, hand reaching out to caress his son’s cheek.
she eyed his rough hand, stomach churning.
“sorry, tiggy.” came the toddler’s whisper, a reminder of his precious teddy’s interrupted slumber.
she heard sukuna’s ‘yeah, sorry tiggy’ tangled to a light huff at his son’s naivety. hand falling to his side. an apology scaped her lips too, as it was her fault as much as it was his.
no, it’s you. it’s all you.
the thought flashed through her and left as quick as it first arrived. hitching her breath as proof of its appearance.
with a heavy heart, she placed ren on her hip as he bid his daddy night night, sukuna kissing his cheek tenderly. the notion so ordinary it made her eyes sting. she glanced at sukuna just as his eyes had left ren. she turned her head then, not ready to let their gaze meet. not sure if she could.
after crossing the way to ren’s room on heavy feet, she laid with the boy, hands caressing his hair as to ease him back to sleep. his little arms pressing tiggy against his chubby chest. eyebrows furrowed, in that adorable way he used to show himself sleeping was to be taken seriously. as his body eased in her arms, hair fluffy and pink under her fingertips, she thought if the man who’s pink hair ren inherited was already asleep too, so she wouldn’t have to face him once she got to her own bed.
and here's my first attempt to bring angst to life. gimme your insights! or your rebloggs. or both! whichever works best for you xx
a night in the life of bookwriter!reader and her cute ass husband!sukuna
“so, you think I should just go to sleep, is what you’re saying?” you frown as he leans down to take a closer look at your face. you coward from his gaze. though you wish his ruby ones on you at all times, right this second is just too fucking much.
“is it what you want, baby?” he asks, right thumb coming up to caress your cheek.
“is it what you meant?” you’re ready to beat him at whatever this might become. body tired, brain tired, soul just too fucking tired for this.
“I mean it’s okay to finish your day at ten like everybody else, darlin’. got nothin’ to prove.” except in this race sukuna doesn’t plan to beat you to the podium “or I can sit my ass here and wait until you decide the day’s done.” he’s coming in first place with you by his side.
you lower your gaze to the glaring white of the opened office’s document page. loosened sentences, bullets between paragraphs that can’t make sense no matter how many times you rewrite the piece. you’re no where near the goal you set for yourself when you woke up this morning, but between how drained you’ve felt with your agent silently pushing you for new updates on the last project and said project not being more than half a page of straight up garbage, every second feels like a waste as you can’t stop yourself from wasting more time.
and then there are red eyes. red eyes, pinkish hair and tattoos that make him look like a delinquent. your tough guy, who’d rather spend noon trying to convince your stubborn self to bed than to simply go by himself. you know things haven’t been the easiest to him either, between maintaining the shop and supporting his teens nephews he still had to maintain you. the thought of him not getting the rest he needs because you’re letting your pride be loud sets a brick in your chest and you just get up.
“yep. you need to rest.” you say. hands reaching up to stretch your limbs. words weren’t written but your back hurt all the same. sukuna’s snort is discreet like he can be.
“you need to rest too, y’know.” he says, as you move to the door. his hands on your waist as if the wrong movement could set you back on the chair. you shy away from his gaze.
“I could stay for a little longer...” you say almost as a challenge. as if you’d never loose to yourself.
“I know. glad you didn’t. hate when my wife doesn’t let me sleep early for the wrong reasons.” you hear from behind.
“shut up!” you reach back to slap his shoulder as laugh bubbles in his stomach.
you’re glued to each other as if you couldn’t move otherwise. you’re just devoted like that. he puts his hands all over you and you let him work you as if you’re one more convertible in his garage. if not even in the face of others he’d keep to himself, inside the walls of your home, he might as well try to merge his torso to yours.
“you could always go to sleep when you feel like it. it’s not like I don’t know the way to the bedroom.” the ac’s already on and you go for the pajamas.
“and sleep without my wife? yeah, right.” you grin despite yourself. bodies moving through nightly routine in a delicious flow of having done this a thousand times.
tomorrow too far to be thought of.
“cutie ‘kuna.”
“don’t start.”
“cutie! ‘kuna!”
“yeah, f’ my wife.”
alrightie! rebblogs are much appreciated as likes don't really do much around here. feel free to comment on this light piece. scoobie out x
synopsis: your ex boyfriend hates when you go to his friend’s hangouts. he still loves you though.
tags: minors dni, 18+, angsty, fluffy, smutty, making out, fingering (f). mentions of: jealousy, cheating (nobody does this) and insecurity.
notes: i rarely write insecure yns!!!!! usually i make bkg the insecure one LOL but branching out this new year. my true yn is neverrrrrr insecure though just so we are clear lol
when people say don’t date within your friendship group, don’t. when you break up, annoyances over too much pda and escaping the group to make out now become awkward encounters in group gatherings, having a conversation pretending the other isn’t there and parties trying to sneak a look at the other. every time you look at bakugou, he notices. every single time.
it didn’t mean to end badly with bakugou katsuki. you promise, a cross over your heart, that you didn’t want it to be an explosive ending because you knew you still had to see him regularly. you didn't only have the same friends but you lived in the same area, you had the same job. there’s equal chances that you’d see him on your weekly food run or in a meeting in your agency. though with this inevitability of seeing the pro hero again, it luckily means your friends work together so you don’t have to.
including tonight, when you were told bakugou wasn’t coming to midoriya’s monthly friend gathering because he’d be coming back late from his mission abroad. finally, it would be your turn to hang with your friends without the elephant shaped explosion hero in the room.
you let yourself through the open door, smile plastered on and pulling off your jacket, “sorry i’m late! there was traffic on the road coming over—,”
the room falls silent. so quiet you could hear a pin drop. three pairs of eyes bounce like a ping pong match between you and your ex boyfriend, the one who wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. you feel like a divorced parent, screaming that it’s your turn with the kids tonight.
looking at bakugou now, it always stings. it’s so vivid, the memory of how he’d look at you when you dated, that now it just feels like a hallucination that never happened. he looks disgusted, lip curled, eyebrows scrunched down and his eyes hooded as if he hates the fact you’re here. you think he just might. it doesn’t help when he pushes out of his seat with a loud scrape that makes your skin flare up with goosebumps. he storms out of the living room with his jaw clenched, off down midoriya's hallway.
your shoulders drop, exhausted. you just wanted an evening with your friends.
before you can apologise and sneak out, uraraka pipes up, donning a sweet pink sweater, hands intertwined under the table with midoriya's. her hazel eyes are so big and sympathetic that you’re embarrassed you caused this much commotion, “so sorry yn! we were texting you but i think because you were driving all the messages were going to silent.”
you pull out your phone. multiple texts from uraraka that bakugou’s flight was pushed back and he’s coming tonight. midoriya tried to call and then texted, Just a heads up, Kacchan will be here tonight. even todoroki, who only ever replies to you with one word, gave you two, Bakugou’s coming.
irritation blooms inside of you, prickling all over and you feel as if you’re about to bite. ochako is mumbling something to midoriya, who gives you another painfully sympathetic look and todoroki who is used to awkward dinners, focuses down on his phone, pretending he’s not there.
“sorry but it’s enough. i cant be doing this with him anymore, it’s unfair on you guys.”
you pull your shoes off, leaving them by the matching bigger ones at midoriya’s front door and plopping your bag down on his sofa.
“i’m going to talk to him and we’ll sort this out.”
todoroki looks up at you, a small smile on his face, “good luck.”
you already know where bakugou would be. everything you know about the man within three years of dating didn’t go down the drain. you pass the gym, midoriya’s bedroom, his bathroom, to his guest bedroom. yours and bakugou’s unofficial bedroom that you’d use every time you stayed over.
you only knock once before pushing the door open, finding the pro hero laying back on the bed, on top of the covers, facing the ceiling.
he’s always been the most beautiful man to you. you don’t think anyone else will ever be able to top him for the rest of your life. everybody always sees him mid fight, mid arguing, mid shouting. but bakugou katsuki, completely calm, is stunning.
gorgeous fluttering eyelashes that are long and straight. a jaw so sharp and a neck so thick, you remember kissing there first whenever you sat on his lap. his eyes… they span all shades of red depending on his emotions. your favourite was when they were a glowing ruby, full of love and appreciation for you.
but now he sits up, facing away and caught off guard by your presence. he was definitely expecting deku to walk in here, begging him to act right and to be nice to you. though once bakugou lays his eyes on you, a quick glance, his eyes become stone cold. washed over like a ship on stormy seas. he’s in a cream woollen zip up and you feel a burn right where your heart sits when you don’t recognise it.
bakugou leans forward, dropping his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. his sigh is dramatic and obnoxious and as much as you hate to see the disgust in his eyes when he looks at you now, you need to talk to him for the sake of your friends.
“we’ve got to talk.” you whisper. it’s like you’ve been demoted to a stranger, unsure how he’ll react.
“i don’t think we do, yn. i don’t have anythin’ to say to you.”
you’ve not spoken to him in weeks, perhaps when you asked him to pass the potatoes at kaminari’s dinner and before that was when you officially broke up. you’ve seen him a few times in agency offices, when you’ve had to drop things off. those times always ended with a melancholy look from him, before he stalks off out of your sight. since then you’ve successfully avoided each other.
bakugou still faces away from you. you can only see his side profile, his back. it reminds you of when you’d lie in this very bed, lightly scratching his back to tempt him to lay with you again. he’d always end up giving in.
“for our friends. we’ve made it so… awkward for them.” you’re looking at your hands because everything in this room is a memory.
“they’re my friends. they were my fuckin’ friends first.” he spits and that causes you to snap, rolling your eyes and turning your fingers into fists.
“how old are you?”
that causes bakugou to look at you. your body heats under his gaze. his eyes start at your socked feet, not bothering to put on slippers in your rush to talk to the man. your sheer black tights and mini skirt. then your winter jumper on top, red with a large white star in the centre. he’s silent as he stares at your face, your pouted lips, pretty eyes. your cheeks and forehead that he’d always kiss first.
“the fuck?”
“you’re acting like a child. you met them first at school and i met them when i started the programmes with ochako! they’re our friends. i didn’t even meet them through you!” you blurt, throwing your hands up in the air.
bakugou bolts up and the motion surprises you but you stand your ground refusing to move.
“i’m acting like a child? it’s you and them with all these fuckin’ texts. nobody tells me when you’re going to be here, nobody texts me in advance that yn is on her way. you’re always just here and everyone’s always so fuckin’ happy to see you.”
he’s massive, he’s always been large, able to loom over you and intimidate. at least he’s trying to intimidate you, make you leave and back down. you see his gold canine when he grinds down on his jaw, the scars on his hands tightening as he crosses his arms across his chest. it doesn’t work on you. you’re seen this man in every position possible. crying in your arms when he couldn’t save a little girl in a fire and begging you not to leave him. in hospital, weak with fresh stitches across his chest and in your bedroom, overstimulated for a release.
so you step in closer to him, head up so he can’t break eye contact with you, “because you act like this. running off to have a tantrum whenever i appear. we can be civil, i always wanted us to be civil, katsuki.”
he laughs, lacking all humour with a grin that looks villainous. “you think we can be civil? to go from loving you, to fuckin’ civil?”
you sharply inhale. there should have been a contract he signed that you can’t talk about how much he loved you and you to him.
“do you not think about how painful it is to be around you? listenin’ to how good your life is going without me in it? up on the charts, another sponsor. i get it if i have to see you in agencies, but at deku’s? in this f-fuckin’ room?”
bakugou’s trying not to shout, he knows how you shut down when anyone raises their voice at you. but not shouting means now his voice is trembling, a scratched whisper like his voice box is infected with sickness.
you’re speechless for a moment and he takes a chance to stand up straighter, a deep breath to reorder his organs. “so fuckin’ forgive me if i have to take a moment before dealing with you, unexpectedly, for a whole evening.”
“i didn’t want us to be like this.” you shake your head, chewing down on your cheek. it’s you who looks away because bakugou looking like he’s about to cry will set you off. you can see his waterline brewing with tears, even when he turns to wipe them away.
“you did a fucked job at makin’ us any different.”
you’re like an untrained puppy, jumping from emotion to emotion with every word he says. you clutch the end of your skirt so you don’t press your fingernails into your palms.
“don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same in my position! our jobs always come first if we like it or not!” you blurt, “i couldn’t handle comparing myself to you all the time, about how the media would say i’m weak and an embarrassment for you. you would have done the exact same to me!”
he’s going to pull his hair out by the root, you never see his point of view. he wishes he could just insert his brain into yours for a moment, see yourself how he sees you and nothing else matters. “i never gave a fuck about the media. you shouldn’t have given a fuck either.”
you scoff, “it’s easy for you to say when you weren’t being bombarded with it.”
you walk over to look out the window, anything away from the man who makes you crumble. it’s feels as if all your senses are going off, serotonin being released in the air just from being in his presence.
“and my life hasn’t been better without you. i’ve just been working so much and i wanted my one break with my friends. not to be arguing with you.” you watch the snow fall outside, a tree branch snapping from holding too much.
“i can make a statement. tell them all to back off, that there’s no need to compare us. to even talk about us.”
you didn’t expect him to be so close to you, the heat of his breath trickling down your neck. his voice is deep and gravelly, every word scraping his throat.
you smile, defeated, “we both know they’d ignore it. i saw a comment that i was just a waiting room until you leave me and become number one. i was overthinking every time i’d see you talk to another woman.”
you yelp when his calloused fingers land on your bicep, spinning you around so your back is pressed against the window.
the need is tangible in his eyes, molten lava pupils forcing you into his atmosphere. his hand stays on your bicep and his other twitches to land on your cheek, your waist, though it lays limply by his side.
“was i not good to you? did you think i would have actually gone through with cheatin’ on you? did i not show you how much i love you?”
you can’t handle all the emotion, the crack in his voice, how he gives in and tangles his fingers with yours. you turn away from him, clamping your eyes shut so you don’t cry.
“it wasn’t about that—,”
he doesn’t give you time, fingertips on your chin to face him again, “answer me. did i show you how much i love you? i treated you right, always looked after you. i took you on dates, bought you gifts. i always made you breakfast and picked you up when i was half asleep and i listened to everything you’d ever say.”
you’re nodding before he can finish his sentence, wiping away the tear trickling down your cheek. “you did. you were so good to me.”
bakugou feels desperate, shaking the bars to his enclosure to get you to understand. “so why the fuck would i cheat on you? you’ve all i’ve ever wanted, all i need—,”
“i know, katsuki, i know but i couldn’t control it! i was always reading that i’m incomparable to you, an article on how another hero would match you perfectly, seeing your new sidekicks and i couldn’t do it.” you sniff and both paw-like palms rest on your cheeks to wipe away your tears.
it’s a reflex, it’s the only way he can excuse why he kisses you. whenever you’d cry around him, be it over stress or a bad day at work, bakugou would always lay his lips over yours in a little peck. it was the only way to snap you out of your carousel of revolving thoughts.
his lips are sweet on your salty ones and he’s about to apologise for even touching you like that, how inappropriate but you sneak your arms around his neck and lock his head to yours. it’s a peck that becomes open mouthed, his head tilting as he pushes you up against the window. he swallows your gasp, his hand sneaking up your jumper to feel your warm waist at the same time you bite down on his lower lip.
“i’ve missed you so much.” he mumbles against your lips and you’re yet to say the same, you’re yet to even say you still love him. bakugou doesn’t know how to get it out of you without begging.
you pull him back in, hands clutching at his hair. everything is grabby and needy, soft fabric of his jumper in your palms and your pulsing tongue swiping against his. it all makes you wetter, wetter than you’ve been in months.
bakugou presses his crotch in your stomach and your shaky exhale becomes a whimper. “tell me you missed me, baby.”
you don’t even need to think, the words tumble past you, your inner dialogue escaping, “i’ve missed you so much, so much katsuki.”
that’s enough for bakugou to pick you up and throw you onto the bed. your bed. his bed. forearms by your head and he’s kissing trails across your jawline, down your neck. your legs magnetise around his waist, biting back groans every time he grinds between your open legs.
“needed to hear that. i’ve been dying, being apart from you,” and he wants to whip off your jumper to kiss down your shoulder and chest. everything feels insufficient, if he doesn’t touch you now, when will you ever let him again? his chest is heavy and heaving and it’s your hands grabbing at his jumper for him to take it off.
he does so without much thought and bakugou feels alight, a raging ball of fire as your eyes gaze down his body. your lips are bitten sore, eyes swollen red and he doesn’t think you could be any prettier than you are at this moment. your hands brush down his chest, thumbs over his nipples, each finger tip across his abdomen. bakugou’s breathing is unpredictable, shaky. his cock is sitting painfully in his jeans and all he’s done is kiss you.
“you’re so beautiful. i always told you that, didn’t i?” you mumble in a trance and bakugou slowly nods.
“yeah, you did. nothin’ compared to you though, prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. i will ever see.”
he shuffles your thick jumper off, leaving you in a delicate lilac lace bra and your mini skirt. “fuck,” it feels like forever since he’s last had you like this, needy and panting in his arms, “and you took all this away from me?” then he laughs, “i didn’t even do shit.”
his gaze is so soft, so loving, it makes you weightless. you hold his cheek, unable to contain it all without feeling like you made a grave mistake.
“katsuki,” you whisper, dragging him down by his nape for another kiss. you’re biting away your moans, tugging tufts of his hair without realising. he starts to grind down on you again and your tights are so thin against his jeans that everything feels delectable. “we can’t have sex.”
“why?” bakugou pulls off you, eyes wide and alert. he’s preparing for his heart to break again, you’ve been with someone else since you’ve been apart, you’re dating someone new, you’re—
instead, you give him a smile that renders his brain useless, pure mush and fog. “because all our friends are a few rooms over wondering why we aren’t screaming our heads off at each other.”
bakugou blinks, then blinks some more to clear his vision from his one track mind to make you come or to kill a man that doesn’t exist.
there’s still so much to say between you both, he needs you to be his again, he needs to fix this problem in with your relationship, he needs you back in his fucking arms.
“i swear i don’t fuckin’ care.” and you can tell from the way he holds you closer against his chest, rocking his hips into yours, “there’s not one part of me that cares right now.”
you take it upon yourself to tighten your legs around bakugou’s hips and roll him onto his back so you’re on top, sitting on his chest.
it’s arousing how he grins, slow and seductive like this sneaking around is just foreplay, a little bit of fun.
“and i’m sorry baby, but we still need to talk about everything,” you breathe.
“baby? i still gotta chance?”
“i didn’t—,” you sigh, palms pressed flat against his chest. you adore bakugou with his cheeks flushed, eyes hooded sleepily and his hands locked on your hips, “i need to work through things.”
he intertwines his fingers with yours, “together, we can work through them together.” he doesn’t let you look away from him, “can’t let you get away again. i can’t.”
“don’t make me cry again,” you lightly scratch his chest and bakugou thinks he’s discreet when he shifts you onto his cock.
but you inhale immediately, gnawing down on your bottom lip to fight a moan, “katsuki,” you warn.
“not gonna make you cry. fuckin’ hate when you do.” he thrusts his hips upwards, grinding your hips over him like you’re clay to be moulded.
“no, i mean it about us not having sex,” you whine, flicking your hips in rhythm with him. bakugou’s dying to kick his jeans off, feel you wet and warm around him. “we need to go back in there and act like we hate each other.”
“don’t hate you. it’s the fuckin’ opposite.” all the blood in bakugou’s races to his crotch, head light with nothing inside. moans are tumbling from him, eyes on your breasts spilling out of your pretty bra.
he nods his head to it, “when’d you buy that? when we broke up?”
his hand sneaks under your skirt, the pads of his pointer and middle finger rubbing circles into your clit.
you’re overwhelmed, hard to focus on what you shouldn’t do, what you want to do and what you shouldn't say. you don’t stop roaming his chest, rutting your hips against his hand.
you shake your head, breathless, “no. when we were together.”
“hah?” he grunts, studying you like you’re an equation to work out. he keeps rubbing you over your thin layers, electric that you want him just as much, “why’d i never get to see it?”
you’re pressing your hips down, pleasure spreading through you like melting butter. you’re all hot, flushed, hair a mess. “i don’t want to tell you.”
that makes bakugou perk up, resting up on a forearm, “nah, tell me. tell me or you’re not comin’.”
“no, it’s so embarrassing,” you slur, kissing the corner of his lips then his bottom one. it’s like you’ve never been apart, everything about him is so familiar.
sitting up fully now with you straddling his lap, bakugou sneaks his hand past your tights and underwear. his rough fingers swipe down to your centre, collecting your wetness to rub over your sensitive bud. you can barely keep your head up.
“oh fuck,” you mewl, lips against his ear, “it always feels so much better when you do it.”
“i know, baby,” he coos, other hand on your ass, “tell me why i’ve never seen this bra.”
you’re close to tears for a whole other reason now, clutching onto him like a lifeline.
“i-i was so insecure by the end. thinking about you and other women. thought you wouldn’t like me like this,” you whimper.
it’s anger that strikes bakugou first, anger at himself, for you feeling like this and him not having a clue until you couldn’t handle it all. no matter what he thinks, he wasn’t a good boyfriend, he should have known this, noticed the changes.
“so stupid. have never looked at anyone else since i met you. whenever i touch myself i think of you. it’s a fuckin’ privilege seein’ you like this, yn,” no pet name because he needs you to know he means you. “you’re the first thing i’ve ever wanted and couldn’t have. ripped from my fuckin’ hands.”
“i’m sorry,” you whisper, so close to falling apart over his fingers. you just need one thing to set you off. your body moves hypnotically over him and bakugou’s in a trance. your breasts heave in his face and he litters kisses over them.
“don’t apologise to me. i’m gonna fix this all,” he breathes, lips wet with his own spit, “gonna come for me, sweetness? wanna see you.”
you take his jaw in your palm, bringing him to your face in an open mouthed kiss. as soon as his tongue touches yours, you’re falling apart, hips jutting faster, face going limp. there’s white behind your eyelids, squeezing them shut because the pleasure is more than you can handle.
“all for me. let me have it. my pretty girl, aren’t you?” he grunts, laying kiss upon kiss on your lips. “you’re not leavin’ me after this are you?”
“fuck,” you try to whisper so your friends don’t hear, but it’s spilling out of you, “no, never. i love you so much, katsuki. so much.”
finally, finally he gets to hear it from you. “i love you too. you drive me insane.”
once you’re wiped out, bakugou pulls his fingers from your quivering hole and quickly inserts them into his mouth.
you laugh sleepily, hitting his shoulder, “you’re so crazy.”
he shrugs, locking you in his arm against his chest. once he's sure he's sucked every bit of your essence, he smirks, “i would eat you out but they’re gonna hear you screamin’. you wouldn’t want that.”
he’s missed you desperately. especially like this, tender in his arms looking at him like he’s your world. he’s sure he’s got the same look in his eyes.
another giggle flows from you.
“can i be yours again? you takin’ me back?” he asks softly, preparing to flinch from your rejection. he could barely take it the first time, but now?
“i’m not saying no—,”
bakugou rests his head on your shoulder in failure, hands gripping your waist. “fuck.”
“no, listen to me,” he lifts his head slowly, the pout unmissable, “i love you, i want to be with you forever. i just need to work on ignoring the comments and getting so jealous. or else this will just happen again.”
“can’t have this happenin’ again,” he mumbles, completely lovedrunk, trying to read everything unsaid in your eyes.
you shake your head, holding him in your hands, “just give me some time, please. i know i sorta sprung it on you before.”
he understands what you’re saying, he gets it. doesn’t mean it still doesn’t sting. he kisses both your palms, holding your wrists. you feel soppy like a ball of emotions and bakugou doesn’t look any different.
“okay. tell me what i needa do too. you and i against the world, baby.”
that makes you smile, pressing a kiss to his lips, “you and i, baby.”
after spending another fifteen minutes looking like you didn’t just come on his fingers, you and bakugou walk back into midoriya’s living room a metre apart.
uraraka has a shaky smile on, looking like prey in an ocean of sharks. izuku has a single eyebrow raised in suspicion and todoroki, well he’s completely neutral.
“you guys back together now?” the bi-haired pro hero asks.
“you were gone for a while,” your best friend offers, tilting her head for an answer.
a slow smile creeps on midoriya’s face, particularly focusing on his best friend beside you. how bakugou twitches, the permanent blush on his face and how his cream woollen jumper is zipped not quite all the way up, showing a little too much chest.
though he doesn’t say a word, he knows exactly what’s gone down.
you're first to shake your head, sitting next to midoriya whilst bakugou sits across from you on the sofa next to todoroki. you stare at your ex-boyfriend when you reply to your friends, pulling the sleeve of your jumper.
“no, we were just talking. had lots to say.”
bakugou bites his smirk, pulling on his best poker face as he spreads his legs apart and slouches on the sofa.
“mind your business,” is all he says, looking at your thighs so you cross them over in a panic.
todoroki laughs, “sure, like the tension in this room hasn’t changed.”
bakugou shoves his friend, “shut the fuck up.”
uraraka locks eyes with you on her arm chair, mouthing, “you okay?”
you nod, eyes practically twinkling. mouthing back, “i’m good.”
after the snappy back and forth between bakugou and todoroki, ruby eyes are back on yours with sappy adoration, knee bouncing and scratching the back of his head.
“see, you could barely talk about yn before and now you can’t take your eyes off her.”
“leave him, shouto!” midoriya blurts at the same time bakugou grunts, “get off my fuckin’ ass.”
todoroki deems his suspicions confirmed when bakugou climbs into your car at the end of the night.
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
