i want yandere bully bakugou but like redemption kinda? like, after becoming a pro hero he tries asking darling out and treats her nicely and stuff, trying to make up for being a bully, but still yandere and kinda toxic???
Normally, it would be strange to ask yourself why you’re someone’s girlfriend. But in your case, given who your boyfriend is, it would be weird not to doubt why.
Part of the answer is that you wouldn’t know how to tell him no.
But… more the question is,
why would he even ask you in the first place?
Try as you might, you couldn’t remember Kachan ever being interested in you in that way. Between calling you a quirkless flat-chested snot-nosed loser extra and telling you how your freckles made you look like you’d been rolling around in shit, he’d not once made you feel as though he was attracted to you in any way.
It had been nearly five years since your high school graduation. The last time you’d seen him. Other than on the news or posters on every corner of the city. Where in that time, he’d gone and made himself a renowned pro-hero. While you…
Well… you’d made your own valid achievements. Though… not nearly amounting to anything as impressive as him.
Which was one of the big reasons why you felt so out of your depth. But not the only reason. And certainly not the main one.
You weren’t convinced it was Kachan when he’d first approached you. Something between meeting a celebrity and a ghost and some other thing you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that somewhat reminded you of the feeling of visiting someone in prison, you bet.
Granted, he, no doubt, still looked like Kachan. Though older, stronger, and taller now, he was still that ash-blonde red-eyed boy you used to know.
It was still Kachan. With his signature straightforward thoroughness and, though more refined and with some resemblance of calm now, that same old brashness of his lurking beneath the trained attitude. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, nor did how his eyes demanded your attention, despite your wish to act like you didn’t recognize him.
You had expected him to growl at you, to laugh and mock you for working at a café, no mind to you being the assistant manager, as you were sure such a feat had no sway with someone as important as him. You’d in the least, if not the former, believed him to ignore you with a sneer. But, though he smirked, it wasn’t a smirk you were any used to. In fact, you’d actually go so far as to call it a smile.
He was still Kachan, but he'd become strange. A stranger, actually. A strange stranger who asked you out. Which is what made him so very strange a stranger to begin with.
But not entirely a stranger as you were still, despite having grown up, a little afraid of what he’d do if you turned him down.
You thought he was joking at first. Playing his same old cruel schoolyard pranks despite being a full-grown man, not to mention one of the highest-ranking pro heroes in japan. But, for a mere joke, he sure seemed serious. Holding up the coffee line in wait for your answer, with fans recognizing him and looking at you as though you were insane for not answering and even more hardcore fans looking at him as though he was insane for asking you.
At least a dozen were filming. And the cardboard coffee cup ached more and more in your palm the longer you waited.
You didn’t really have a choice.
Did you?
Your first date was a lot more expensive a taste than what you were used to. In fact, you realized you weren’t really used to being pampered at all.
You felt underdressed even in the leather seats of his car and even more when the gold lighting of the restaurant dawned on you.
Your breath thinned as you found yourself stared at by what felt like absolutely everyone as the two of you were led to your table overlooking the city.
Kachan noticed your flighty gaze and how you shared fluttering looks with the other people surrounding you and the marble floor, though never with him.
“You can’t blame them.” He said. And your doe-eyes finally returned his stare with an adorably puzzled look of your own. “Your own fault for looking like that.”
You paused, first instincts telling you how it in no way was a compliment, before realizing you were being silly before further deciding how it didn’t really matter. “It’s you they’re staring at. They’re just wondering who I am to be here with you.” You dismissed shyly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And frankly, Kachan… so am I.”
He smiled, and you, without knowing how else you should respond, stilled in suspense until potentially prompted to move.
You were nervous enough around him from before without him acting so strangely, without him giving you those unfamiliar yet somewhat pleasant smiles you hadn’t even seen him use when addressing his fans on TV.
You would even go so far as to say he seemed to be admiring you. Or… you wouldn’t really know what to call it.
A blush of drunkenness rouged his cheeks and sugared his eyes after the third glass of wine, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the same had happened to you.
You were a cute drunk, he thought. While a small quirk played in the corner of his lips on account of the heavy hoods pulled on over your eyes, and how your lips struggled to keep close and instead formed a pout so kissable, he was struggling not to reach over and take the offer.
But, not wanting to scare you away, he exercised restraint. On your behalf, because fuck knows you wouldn’t have done or said anything to stop him. He can see it on you even now. You haven’t got it in you. You never have. And you probably never will.
He asked you about your things. Knowing how you’ve heard about him from the news and every other channel and platform. Acting like your answers somewhat surprised him even though he’s been keeping close tabs on you as the media has on him. Probably even more so.
You’d put on a dress for him. It was nothing special compared to what he’d seen others wear at hero galas, but the thought alone was sweeter and more intoxicating than the wine in his glass.
To think, he could just lift the frill and see you. Touch you. Feel you. He probably would have if he were still your bully, but over the expanse of his hero training, he’d realized he wasn’t any such silly thing as your enemy.
No… Pro-Hero Dynamight may have his admirers and his foes, but as for the man behind the mask.
Bakugou Katsuki,
is your number-one fan.
And he wasn’t embarrassed by it anymore. He wanted you to know it, wanted to smother you with it. He loved you. He wanted you. He needed you.
And he’d make sure no one else would dare even think about taking you from him.
And he’d make sure the thought wouldn’t dare cross your mind either.
He announced your relationship in interviews, had it written on all his platforms, and told every single one of his pining fans. It hadn’t even been a week since you met, and he’d already claimed you before the world, and you…
Well, you didn’t really know what the fuck you were doing.
You’d been ambushed and stormed into surrender before you even knew what was happening. All that was left now was to try and… well… make peace with it.
Kachan was like a new person. You were unsure whether that was a fact or just you trying to convince yourself you don’t feel his old self in how he brazenly puts his hands on you. Having you swallow your own shaky breaths as he wraps his heavy, hefty, muscled arms around your much smaller body.
Or how you fear being bitten, swallowing your heart, when he leans down to kiss you.
Even now, a week into your relationship, you’re still on edge. Awkwardly regarding yourself in his bathroom mirror. The one-week anniversary present he’d gotten for you lying open on the glass counter.
Pretty shades of chiffon were still left inside the expensive box as you’d taken its primary contents and layered your naked self with them.
Dewdrops from your shower disturbed your reflection. Though within the streaks you’d made with your hand, anyone could see how clearly uncomfortable you were. Dressed in the new set of clothes he’d gotten you.
Or…
Clothes was a generous term for it as it was nothing more than silky lingerie.
Rich red lined your skin in sexy floral patterns as the sheer lace perfectly caressed your curves in expensive designer you could never afford and transparent in a way you would never dare buy for yourself even if you could.
And along with the looming disorienting surreal understanding that your childhood bully was no doubt expecting to fuck you tonight, your chest felt tight, and your head was so horridly hot, reeling with memories, flashes in the reflection of the mirror staring back at you. Times you’d cry your eyes out for hours looking at yourself because the boy on the opposite side of the door had you convinced you were the ugliest thing in the entire world.
The dinner you’d shared together earlier must have made you sick since you could taste blood on your tongue, or perhaps it was just the hopeless situation. Nevertheless, you feared that if you left the safety of the bathroom now, you might just vomit from the fever. Or faint-
“You pass out in there?” Came a loud knock on the door, shaking you from your thoughts and reminding you to breathe again. “Come on out, I wanna see you. I don’t care if it’s a little tight.” He ordered, in a voice similar to the schoolyard punk that sometimes still haunts your dreams. Though now belonged to the man he’d grown into, the one waiting for you on his bed just behind the door.
You bit your lip, brows crinkling, a small sigh leaving you in the pitiful form of a whimper before you swallowed a mixture of pride and anxiety. Ripping your gaze from yourself, you made to unlock the door and reveal yourself.
You couldn’t look at him, but looking down at yourself was equally embarrassing, where you stood nearly naked in the nippy air of his bedroom while he, still fully dressed with suit and tie, sat patiently or impatiently waiting for you to come closer.
“Fuck-” He groaned, his tongue gracing the top row of his teeth as his eyes drank in the pretty sight of your perfect body all dressed up for him.
You were too pretty to be this shy. But then again, that was probably his fault.
“Come ‘ere.” He urged, wringing his blazer off and loosening his tie before throwing it to the single chair placed in the corner of the room, keenly watching as you took your small cautious steps until you were just within reach, where his hands hungrily pounced for you.
His hot course fingers touched your skin with greed. Grabbing into your soft flesh, he pulled you to him. Having no reservations about what and how he touched, as his entire hand squeezed your ass like you were playdough.
“Sit.” He ordered while tugging you down on his lap. His thick arm wrapped around your waist as you sat on him like Santa. Fingering the straps of lace at your hip, he stared at your cute nipples through the see-through lace of your bra.
He popped open the first few buttons to his dark burgundy shirt, finding himself getting hotter, and you had to bite your lip at how tight the smooth silk of it was around his muscles and how warm he was against your naked skin.
He hugged you closer against his chest, and your breathing thinned again into a tiny gasp, making him show teeth. “So skittish-” He chuckled, his voice softly amused while kneading your thigh in his toasty and textured palm. “You still afraid I'm gonna push you around like back in middle school?” He asked with a grin, his hot breath fanning against your neck while his lips ghosted the peachfuzz of your cheek.
You fidgeted with your hands on your lap, squeezing your thighs tighter together. Eyes bashfully staring down at the large bruise-knuckled paw petting your knee. Scars littered it like a cutting board.
“Come on…” He drawled as his hand lifted, leaving your thigh cold in its absence, where he made to handle your chin and cheek for you to look at him. “I ain't that shitty anymore, am I?”
You wiggled a bit on account of his raw ruby-red eyes connecting with your shy gaze. Ears on fire since teased by the smooth tone his voice had slipped into, surprised by how it slithered around your pounding heart and pooled in your gut and tickled your cunt where you sat on the bump on his slacks that only hardened the more you squirmed.
“No need to be scared, princess. I don’t bite like I used to. I promise~” He blew against your lips. “I've matured.”
The nickname princess sounded so similar to something else he used to call you. The memory of it taking an equal toll on your body as his touches, further making you shiver on goosebumps while his hand dipped from caressing your face to stroking the soft skin of your neck. Slipping between the valley of your breasts until he settled for cupping one of the two in his hand. Playing with the lace while teasing the visible nipple beneath, smiling once it perked beneath his fingertips.
“You've matured too, huh?” He added, his lips at your ear, ticklish and warm, making your head drum, a tiny squeak leaving you once he flicked your earlobe with his tongue. “You used to look like a little boy before.” He laughed, and you bounced and swallowed thickly as his hand dropped down to your lap again. This time close to your panty, where your thigh was fattest and most sensitive.
The other hand remained at your hip and pulled you even tighter against him while the former stroked the plush chunk of flesh, visibly getting drunk on your softness where his breath had become rugged with restraint.
“I mean, I didn't even think of you as a girl before you started wearing those cute little school skirts.” He reminisced.
Elementary school…
When new uniforms separated boys from girls and you from him.
“You fucked us up with that, y'know?” He scolded, giving you a harder squeeze. “You were one of the guys, and then, boom-” He tsked. “Suddenly, such a tease.”
Your brows furled as your lips pursed into a pout, while your stomach started to fold in all types of uneasy ways by the even darker shift in his tone.
“Too pretty to play in the mud.” He scoffed in a whisper, his nose bumping your temple as you bowed your head even lower, swallowing thickly while suppressing the familiar urge to cry and beg him to stop. Almost expecting him to bite you. “Too pretty for me.”
“Ow-” His hands pinched you just a bit too recklessly, and you popped up from your seat on his lap with a jolt and a wince.
“Sorry.” He offered lazily, keeping his hold on you.
Spreading his thighs, he pulled you between them.
“It’s hard to control myself.” He excused, his hands lowering on your waist as he leveled his head with your belly before crouching forward to cuddle you with his cheek. “You're just so fucking perfect.” He mumbled while giving the pinch mark on your thigh a kiss, his stubble scratching the delicate skin found there.
His words made your head ache, splitting you between contradicting emotions for him, tormenting you to the point that tears pooled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, dripping onto his shirt.
“Don’t cry.” He murmured while his warm worn thick fingers snaked about in between your spread legs and dragged heavily up the thin fabric protecting your cunt.
And despite everything, you still moaned out, though a somewhat feeble whine. And he voiced in another rumbling tone soaked with lust he no longer could contain.
“Let me make it up to you.”
You were a second later thrown down on your back with a bounce on the bed, where he undid the intricacies of your lace-up in a matter of split-felt moments like the single beat of your galloping heart.
“I know you don’t trust me.” He added amidst the heat of his actions. “But I love you, princess-” He urged while kneeling near the bed-end, throwing your thighs over his shoulders. “And I’m gonna prove it to you.”
No part of you was ready for him, but at the same time, all of you were too accepting. With the moan that spilled from your chest like overfilled honeycomb and how your hands stilled in surrender at the feel of his hot eager tongue meeting your cunt.
His spikey ashen hair tickled your thighs as the stubble on his chin and cheeks lightly scratched you with every word of worship his lips mouthed into your core. And your chest arched off the bed as you lost your mind to what you’d gotten yourself into.
Torn between fear of him and lust for him, wondering if you had any pride left in you whatsoever or if he’d finally tightened the chokehold and squeezed it free of any life.
His tongue focused on your clit as he raised a hand between you, filling you with one of his thick fingers. Smirking against your heat at the feel of you clenching on him.
He saw you grip the sheets in tiny fists and looked up to see you trying to hide your embarrassment in his pillows. Chuckling, he added another finger and listened to you whimper out a moan with an involuntary buck of your hips.
He began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt with his free hand, bottom to the top, wrestling it off with somewhat of a handicapped struggle. Growing impatient as he moved down to unzip himself, pulling down the restraints before tugging on his own needy arousal. With precum spilling in pearls from his head, the pent-up beast sprung with a surge against his abs as he jerked himself and continuously gorged on you.
He dropped his pants and boxers entirely as he made to crawl on top of you, sloppy kisses laid in wet trails up your body while his fingers slipped from your cunt so both hands could grab into your soft thighs and spread them to each side of his torso until you felt the weight of his throbbing cock bob against your belly.
You looked down to see it blushed red and wet with arousal, swollen into a threat and pumped to attack you. He noticed your stare and how he made you squirm, prompting him to grab your chin and have you look up at him instead.
You were the tiniest thing beneath him. And under the shade of his dark red eyes, you had your heart in your throat as well as a never-ending thrum of whimpers.
“You ready for me, princess?” He asked with a kiss to your lips, smeared wet across your cheek to nip at your neck.
And though you were anything but certain, you still made to tell him what he wanted to hear. But, with his hot mouth softly biting all the weak spots on your throat, you could only hum in return. However, managing to give a slight nod while your hands lifted from the sheets. Caressing the warm toughness topping you, your gentle fingers slid over the toned muscles of his back, tangling themselves into the short ashen locks at his neck while your legs wrapped around his torso.
All in an effort to tell him yes, as you were all but rendered speechless by the delicate way he handled you.
You were as cute and timid with humility as always, he thought, like a breath of fresh air and clear blue skies after breaching the rubble and smoke of battle.
He cupped your breast in one hand, teasing your nipple between his thumb and index, and grabbed himself with the other. Rubbing his cockhead over your pearl and dipping in between your folds.
He pushed inside, and you whined, tensing at the stretch, and he stopped as though worried.
“You okay?” He asked, and your heart leaped while he messaged your hip in encouragement until you relaxed again before continuing.
He dug his hands into your thighs, spreading you wider as he bottomed out inside you. And your toes curled with your moan as you clenched around him, his teeth gritting at the tight fit while groaning right at your ear.
“Fuck-” He sighed, his lips ghosting your cheekbones as his eyes scanned your pretty face. Hugging onto him with your hands, with your legs pulling him closer. Moaning so sweetly, small little mews just for him.
He could never get enough of those sounds.
He was going to wait at least a month. He figured that would be enough time. Enough time to make all the right moves. He was going to date you, breed you, reunite you with his parents, reintroduce himself to yours, have you move in with him, and then endgame.
But with the ring box in the drawer right next to the bed, he thought he might as well…
School bully katsuki looking to torment you in class and empty classrooms and back alleys every day... and when you go off to a vacay for like 2 weeks he gets his frustration out by angrily fucking kirishima.
Kiri coming to school limping, trying to cover up hickeys, fingerprints and marks, getting red in the face when denki asks if he's gotten action lately.
DKBK, Mean Izuku, Previous Bully Katsuki, Rom-com style drama
Izuku goes to America right out of UA, returning a few years later. People keep telling him how much has changed, but what his classmates seem to harp on the most is how nice Katsuki has gotten. Apparently he went to therapy, got some anger management, sorted himself out. But Izuku finds that hard to believe.
But it’s true, at least on the surface. Almost as soon as he’s arrived, Katsuki has pulled Izuku aside and said all the right words and apologized just the way he ought to for being a jerk. But Izuku cannot believe it. So he starts testing Katsuki, sure that with enough of a push this facade will break, and the same old bully will be under there.
Cue a series of not so accidents and Izuku getting more and more frustrated until he finally snaps, doing something so openly unkind and antagonistic that even their classmates are aghast, leading to Izuku spewing about just how horrible Katsuki really was and must still be, under this nice guy act.
or, I just really enjoy the scene in my head of Katsuki shocked and hurt, soaked through with the beer Izuku just antagonistically dumped all over his head at the bar, their classmates angrily demanding to know what on earth Izuku is doing. In response, Izuku gives this angry speech about Katsuki and everything he did and how he could never really have changed, causing all of them to turn on the blond, telling him how disappointed and betrayed they are that he could’ve treated Izuku that before walking out. It’s just Katsuki and Izuku left in their group, and at last Izuku gets what he was looking for. Katsuki looks angry. Angry and hurt and humiliated.
And for once, Izuku’s not so sure whose the bully and whose the victim.
OR, Izuku processes his own feelings about how things went with Katsuki just a little too late, and ends up hurting someone badly.
something i havent seen you do is Bakugou with an equally famous or successful reader, like she's still quirkless but maybe an idol of sorts? i think it could be interesting
BNHA ! HEADCANONS + IMAGINE
Bakugou Katsuki x darling
TW: yandere, some slight nsfw, obsession, coercion, abuse of power
PROFESSIONAL
Your face is on the poster plastered right next to his, only you look like his stark opposite.
Flowers instead of explosions frames you and your dewy skin. Glittering with the spritz of perfume you’re commercializing instead of the droplets of sweat and grease he’s smeared with.
A catlike grin plays deceptively soft in the corner of your glossy lips, whereas his bear a crazed maniacal demonstration of canines like a rabid mongrel.
And your eyes, painted with a seductive blend of smokey colors similar to the smudge of his war paint, though refined to make you look oh-so-lush and divine, like a queen, and he, only a lowly sooty footsoldier in comparison.
He buys magazines you’re featuring in and reads them before bed.
Ending up with a hand bobbing beneath the cover.
Feeling lucky like none when the poster within is a large A3 foldout of you in something rather risqué.
He reads your interviews from cover to cover or watches them on TV.
His heart pounding when the segment of your nameless childhood bully is brought up. Happy to see you haven't forgotten him.
He was a complete desperate mess when you did that extremely private lingerie commercial that had you showing off nearly all assets on a set of pillows and plushies.
Losing his mind looking through the mesh and chiffon right to where your nipples teased him with their perky strut.
Not to mention your face and your expressions…
You really know how to play to the camera. So much so it makes him jealous of the photographer.
He’d like to be the one to tell you to pose and give him a pout. Pretending he is when slowly peeling each page over to view the following image. Throat tight and dry and palms sweaty, watching you crawl and give a rather intimidatingly large teddy bear a kiss on the cheek.
You’ve definitely become something different from your shared days in middle school.
Something confident and alluring.
Something he wants to play with in a wide new variety of ways than before.
It’s good that your industry often intertwines with his.
He knows exactly which model to request when his agency wants to shoot a new campaign poster starring Dynamight saving a Damsel in Distress.
No one but you fit the role so picture-perfectly, being both a beautiful idol and a quirkless citizen.
You’ve learned to refrain from asking your handler any questions, just doing what the strict woman tells you, be it what jobs to take, how to dress, or what to eat. It’s better that way. She’s a professional, and you owe your entire career to her wisdom. But once you get to the photo shoot and start recognizing the props of a certain hero decorating the stage, you get queasy with unease upon understanding exactly which pro hero you’re going to be shooting with.
Swallowing thickly, you bar yourself in your dressing room for a minute. Your handler already shouting at your ear enough to make you wince with tears at the ready as you try to explain the sticky situation to her. Naturally, your cries fall upon deaf ears, and soon enough, you’re convinced you’re being silly. This is a huge opportunity, after all. Dynamight is on par with Deku, having shared the title of the number one hero ever since they graduated. It would be career suicide to decline a collab with him, especially now that you’re already under contract with his agency.
You splash your face with cold water to calm the swelling left by your tears and get dressed in the silky white summer dress provided to you. It’s a pretty article, you think without being overly happy about it. It’s a thin, nearly see-through, backless model with a rather deep dip reaching down between your breasts. And though it isn’t at all the first time you flaunt your body in a nearly nude state in front of the world, it certainly is the first time you do so in front of the guy who used to pick your appearance apart until you cried. You only hope he doesn’t recognize you and that the shoot will be over before he eventually can.
You’re glad your handler does what her job suggests and handles all handshakes and greetings on your behalf. But though all the formalities of the work fall upon her shoulders, the part of the actual modeling is something only you can do.
You’re able to remain professional for the most part, barely ever glancing in his direction, though picking up on his mass from the corner of your eye and through the veil of fake lashes where you keep your eyes glued to the floor as the photographer gives instructions for the new pose. But then comes the direction you were dreading, the one which has the two of you touching. And even though you knew it was inevitable, you still flinch when he puts his hands on you.
And though the assistants, handlers, managers, and photographers are all oblivious to your discomfort, he notices, smiling at your tiny shivers and how well you hide them.
He’s so much bigger than you remember, you think while you try steadying your breath and convincing yourself that it isn’t any different from all those other times you’ve gone out of your comfort zone for the sake of a good deal. The shoot you did for Playboy Magazine had practically been a porno, and that time you’d been surrounded by a great deal of big beefy men, much similar to the one touching you now.
Still tough... you had a laugh that time around. You had fun.
This wasn’t fun.
“Funny this.” He spoke, and you feared he was speaking to none other than you.
Holding you in a scoop of a bridal carry, you felt the harsh metal of his costume dig into your skin, not more than the grip of his hands clawing at your flesh like a predator sinking its teeth into caught prey. The grime on his fingers dirtying the white of your dress.
“Or… ironic is a better word for it.” He adds, and you finally look up into that face that still sometimes haunts you in your dreams despite having been out of your life for years. “Oh- don’t say you don’t remember me, Quirkless?”
After the shoot, the photographer praises you on your ability to portray true distress, unbeknownst that the sentiments in your expressions were genuine, and you almost trip over the stage props while thanking him, wanting to leave the set as quickly as possible in favor of going home.
But obviously, shooting a campaign poster isn’t why you’re there.
“Have dinner with me.” He says, with his hand, seemingly made to break bones, wrapped tight around your twiggy wrist. Stopping you from running away.
And just as expected, your handler accepts before you can make the costly mistake of refusing.
My everyday thirst: yandere bakugo or kirishima desperate and crying because they realize that their darling would never love them. I get off on this even if it's not sexual. Help.
BNHA ! POLY ! THRIST
Bakugou Katsuki x darling x Kirishima Eijirou
TW: yandere, noncon, bondage, abuse, kidnapping
TEARS
You don't know who's crying more.
It should be you. With every limb in a state of uncomfort and pain. Stringy stiff rope rubbing your wrists with burns in a knot above your head, tied tight to the bedpost, making you stretch on the mattress you've been forced onto. Left no room for kicking where each boy has a leg straddled, resting warm balls and wet weeping cocks atop the softness of your thighs, desperately and pathetically riding you, gliding their heavy stiffies in the slick smeared on your smooth and doughy silky skin.
A shaky hand rubs your clit with a fat fissured thumb while two thick fingers swim inside the velvet of your insides. Spreading and scissoring without tact, though still in a way that has your stomach warm and coil in all types of panic, disgust, and shame. Sobbing in humiliation, begging them to quit, while your hips jerk forward, begging for more.
You can't tell which of them it is. Not with the heavy blond hunched over you. His imposing frame, burly and suffocating, block your vision as he coaxes you to meet his pathetic kisses while he wettens your entire face with drool and salt.
His lips mostly suck on your cheeks, licking up your tears and grazing you with teeth and broken apologies he hiccups between sobs while you try your best to string together any complete sentence stating your plead. But every word you attempt is left in a choke by a tongue entering your mouth or a whine escaping it as the redhead makes a playfield of your chest, leaving marks with sharp shark teeth. Biting you red, then licking the wound, nuzzling into the soft plush of your exposed tits.
He's crying as well but offers no apologies. Rather busy moaning about what an adorable thing you are instead, as well as something along how you're too good for the world and that he wants you so bad it hurts.
Large hands squeeze you in all your soft places, carding rough fingers into the chub of your cheeks, where the blonde proceeds to suck and lick your neck while you continue sobbing for them to stop. Another hand pinches and plays with your breast, rubbing the nipple between a worn thumb and index finger. The other poor mound has the redhead's mouth on it, his tongue swirling the pretty perky nub while his lips suck as though something would come out.
And you struggle to fight the overwhelming weight of barely being able to breathe, but in between those whimpers of pain and fear lies a sensation that clouds them both.
Your stomach feels sticky, and along with all the noise pounding in your heart, your toes curl into the bedsheets while your thighs quake around the arm that's pumping your poor cunt into a slutty mess.
You want to close your legs but can't, so instead, you simply lie there panting on your moans while feeling the hand retract, leaving your pussy lips glossy and fluttering.
Looking up into the sets of teary red eyes above you, you try once more, kindly asking them to let you go. And think for a hopeful moment that they'll listen when they maneuver into different positions.
But just when you're about to say thank you, you choke on it with the sticky bittersweet and salty shaft sheathed inside the pocket of your cheek. Whining as the upset boy jerks into your mouth, you swallow all words before they even leave, only to let out a loud cry instead with the feel of the fat monster that forcibly fucked past all taunt tightness to reach your core in one fell swoop.
Everything burns. Your poor wrists are rubbed raw in your bonds where you've tried wringing them free, and every single place their hands touch stings with welts and bruises. Your throat screams for air only to feel more cock shoved down it while your cunt clenches on the intruder within, pathetically trying to push him out, only to be breached and fucked even harsher than before. Brutally pounded in a series of desperate thrusts, hitting you so deep you fear he might punch through your walls and rearrange something.
You stop crying when the shocking taste of cum coats your tongue, quickly overrun with the charge of disgust as you feel sick bile in your throat, desperately wanting to throw it all up. But you're promptly distracted when feeling the same warmth spill inside your womb as well. Suddenly stricken with such an overwhelming ironclad sense of shellshock, you remain quiet and still as the two boys slink out of you.
Their hands detach and leave you cold in sweaty bedsheets, feeling the ticklish trickle of cum dripping from your tingly hole. And this time, when you look up into the red, you're so traumatized you're actually happy to see they've stopped crying.
i love the idea of bakugo corrupting kirishima so much like just encourage him about his yandere tendencies and surely with the two being so close of course some of Bakugo's traits rub off on him.
Bakugo telling Kirishima how it's ok that they're fucking kidnapping you while you're crying so much, begging them to stop like "She'll get use to it" or "We'll just fucking knock her up n she'll be good"
Kirishima Eijirou & Bakugou Katsuki
♡ AN: It's strange, but I always picture it the other way around? Hope you enjoy my take on the dynamic.
♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, stalking, misogyny
♡ FEM reader
Bad Influence
It's not much of a secret that Bakugou doesn't quite enjoy being robbed of his self-restraint each time his focus is pulled from what's important and his eyes forced to look at little ditzy you.
But somehow that busy-bee swing you have in your hip when you bob down the corridor, and the way you clutch your textbooks so tight to your chest and squish your tits, has his eyes zeroing in on you no matter how hard he tries resisting it.
He knows well he's by no means any saint, but he wants to be able to say that he at least tries meeting the standards of being a somewhat decent guy.
But for fuck's sake-
That dorky wave you pull where you wiggle your small fingers all delicately in the air like a complete flirty tease doesn't help. Nor does the way you cheer all your words in that terribly nerdy sweetly girly tone of yours.
And though it should, that entirely innocent smile you give him makes it no easier to think straight either.
He hates the dirty thoughts that bubble up.
He hates wanting to sniff you each time you pass by him.
He hates thinking of how much he wants to squish your adorable baby-face in his hand.
He hates how much he wants to make you cry.
He hates thinking about taking your little plush body against the nearest wall. Of lifting your short school skirt over the dome of your little round ass and pinch the fat there until you whine. Of tearing your pink panties down to your knees. Of ripping them off and sticking them inside his pocket.
He hates how fucking aroused the thought of making you walk around the school panty-less makes him. Imagining how cute you'd bat your lashes at him all bashful and doe-eyed, pushing your knees together and biting down on your plump bottom lip as you desperately try pulling your skirt further down as far as you can.
Or...
Perhaps he just doesn't like getting snagged on Kirishima's pointy smirk each time the boy catches him redhanded in his daily perverted daydreams...
Still, he tries his best at abstaining from looking at you when you're in compromising positions.
But, it's hard with Kirishima acting like the devil perched on his shoulder.
Always alerting him of how cute your butt is each time you bend over to pick up that pencil you clumsily dropped on the ground. Jabbing his side with his elbow when you stand on your tippy-toes reaching for that book on the top shelves. Stretching so that your shirt slips from out your skirt and rides up to give a tempting show of your no-doubt soft skin.
He'll fight so hard to keep his depraved perverted thoughts to himself, to push them down, suppress them in the deepest darkest pits of his desires, flush them from his mind to focus on something less criminal, something that won't have him choke on his spit and blush bright red when you turn your ditzy little clueless head to look at him in the exact moment he's imagining something filthy starring you.
He doesn't even dare talk to you. Even when you do your little wave and give your bright greeting.
He just scowls at you.
Still, clueless you, oblivious to how the ash-blonde dreams of spitting in your mouth while you moan and take his cock, think him and his redheaded counterpart make for the cutest couple on campus.
The bright one always roaring with laughter and poking fun at the other one's tight frown, pulling him along instead of leaving him to grumpily brood in solitude.
Silly you thinks they're adorable.
You think it's romantic how such stark opposites attract.
Like something straight out of a movie.
And it's true.
Kirishima isn't anything like Bakugou at all.
Goofy and kind with just the right amount of playfully charming to make your cheeks heat up.
He always gives you a great big toothy grin in return and a dumb boyish wave that has his entire body swaying to follow the exaggerated movement of his arm as he hollers at you.
He walks up behind you and grabs that book you were trying to reach for you. Handing it you with a lop-sided grin that's perfectly disarming as well as handsome. Sparkling white, making your stomach do little flips as you take the book out of his much larger hands.
Bakugou just hates how you splutter out your words when you thank the redhead all so nervously. He hates how you bow your head and grind the tip-off your shoe into the floor when Kirishima gives you his deceptively good-natured words of welcome in return.
He hates how the whole show turns him on like nothing else.
But more than anything, he hates the shitty look on Kirishima's face once he turns his head quite subtly to the side to look to him with an expression so smug he's unsure whether he wants to knock his stupid croc-teeth right out or kiss him until breathing becomes hard.
But that would be giving him what he wants.
The innocent act doesn't fool him.
He knows full-well what the scheming two-faced little shit is up to.
He can see it plain as day in that alarmingly dangerous twinkle in his matching red eyes as he flirts with little flustered you.
He makes the blonde even rowdier than before, nearly uncontainable were he sits and stares at the two of you giggling with each other.
"Would you fuck-off with that shit already?" He barks once the red-head finally makes it back to their study-date, done taking a break to play with little adorable clueless you.
"What?" He simply smirked, laughing mockingly at the visibly angry blonde sitting with folded arms in front of spread textbooks and busy notes. "You're the one who's dirty sock has her pretty name on it, creep."
Bakugou's jaw clenched as he suppressed what curse words he urged to fling at the infuriating imp sitting apposed from him.
He sighed and threw his head back to let it hang off the chair's back. Looking to the stale grey ceiling of the library. Counting the tiles before closing his eyes and sighing out again.
"You've made your point." He stated, now calmly.
Bakugou, in all his narcissistic rights, believing he knew why the sturdy male was acting the way he was.
"I've been distracted, I'm sorry." The blond apologised.
But the sincere apology was only met with Eijirou's laughs.
"You're so cute-" He smiled, earning him the look of a frustrated and confused boyfriend. "But not everything is about you, King Explosion Murder God Dynamight."
Kirishima stopped laughing, though his smile still present and looking every bit as ready to tear through skin like a chainsaw.
"I think she's cute too." He said, voice having shed its friendly tone.
And Katsuki's skin spiked with a million goosebumps at the haunting of what impure ulterior motives he was hinting at.
"But you know what?" The shark-toothed male simpered.
Turning to face you again. The blonde followed the redhead's gaze to where you sat undisturbed knowing and wishing no ill-will at the other library study table some meters away from the pair. The tip of your pencil caught between your lips as you tilted your head at the fat book plopped down in front of you.
"She'd look even cuter sandwiched between us." He mused darkly.
Two pairs of stark red-eyes never once leaving you, as though you were a peaceful rabbit in a flower field and they were foxes on the hunt hiding in the grass.
"Don't you think?"
Bakugou looked away from you with a snap of his head, slight hint of rose dusting his cheeks with bright pink, sensing his battle for morality was already forfeit.
Where, as much as Bakugou would like to boast and say that he was immune to the redhead's persuasion...
In spite of spotting how Kiri's smile curves sinisterly in those moments when no-one but him is looking...
He, quite like everyone else, falls right into the honey-trap time and time again.
Where despite all his practice of self-restraint and in waste of all those times he'd talked himself out of fucking his fist when thinking of you. Those enticingly tempting words dripping from Kirishima’s tongue so brazenly acted like a sanction to the fire-type, who simply couldn’t resist the image of your tiny plush body and terribly adorable face squeaking out precious moans and whimpers while the two of them breed you full like what a sweet cute ditz like you deserves.
And it doesn't help that you're too sweet to even consider saying no when Kirishima approaches you.
Gullible people-pleasing you nearly jump with enthusiasm when the redhead asks you for tutoring help. Nodding your head like such a well-manored goody-two-shoes when he invites you to his dorm-room. Gushing with gratitude when he offers to carry your bag for you. Snorting on your laughs when he cracks joke after joke as though he's got an endless supply to charm you with.
Ditzy dork completely distracted from seeing him secretly text Bakugou.
Phone held at his side real smooth and out of sight, while the two of you walk side by side as he guides unsuspecting sweet you right into his trap where another tall strong male is waiting with sweaty palms and and an almost violent urge to play with you outweighing his burdening morals.
Kirishima isn't struggling whatsoever though.
Like a true sociopath, he's playing the perfect gentleman with the perfect smile and the perfect amount of pressure in his hand laid on the small of your back as he guides you forward. Opening the door for you. Welcoming you inside. Taking your jacket and feigning nervousness as he scratches the back of his neck and tells you that he's sorry that his room's such a mess.
And sweet little unknowing you obviously just giggle. Completely unaware that it was the signal Bakugou was waiting for to come out of hiding.
No... Kirishima doesn't struggle at all...
He has no problems holding you down. No guilt burdening him when bending your helplessly weak arms behind your back and pulling you against his chest in his lap as he lays down with you on the bed.
He shushes you smoothly, with that same suave voice he's been buttering you up with the entire week, giving you chills as to how completely calm he can be when doing something as disturbing as violating his peer.
And poor little you is so terribly confused at first.
You almost don't believe it because you don't want to believe it.
You're almost convinced it must be some cruel prank he's pulling, like the ones you see in movies, where the handsome popular hero student picks on the nerdy nobody from general studies.
But this is so much worse than a movie.
Because the bud of the joke doesn't come and soon he's got his hands on places that's barely been touched by anyone but yourself.
And that's when the fear finally comes. Settling like snow on your skin, until it goes seeping into your bones like the cold in late autumn.
Biting like winter once you recognise the spike-y ash-blonde hair of Bakugou round the corner.
The white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to just above his elbows, buttons undone halfway down, flexing scarred brawn you cannot ever hope to fight against.
He crawls over you with heavy hands and knees sinking into the mattress. Trapping you even further where you lie tight against Kirishima's chest.
The two of them manuevering as though it was only natural, as though it'd been carefully thought through a million times before.
And you can tell the blond has been waiting once you feel the hard tent kept constrained rubbing against your thigh, making your stomach fold in every haunting way.
You're on your back like a flipped ladybug struggling to get up. Hands trapped beneath you with your tits face-up and jutting forward for the face that ducks to rub between them. Beard-stubble harsh on you sensitive skin.
His hands move impatiently. Tampering with the buttons as though it's his first time and Kirishima chuckles at him like it's all some cute gesture even though he's clumsily struggling at stripping you off your clothes in order to violate you.
You try screaming rather than begging once Kirishima's large paw grabs a handful of your tit, but his other hand had already taken repercussions. Forming a tight lock over your mouth, making any and every noise you try squeaking out sound like lewd whines and moans instead of pitiful pleas of mercy.
You choke on your heart once your eyes meet Bakugou's bleeding red gaze, where he looks at you like a dog drooling for steak.
Your arms savagely bent behind your back, tucked away from intervening while making you chest strut forward where he'd buttoned up your shirt for the sake of seeing your sweet tits squeezed together within your pretty bra.
Your waist still gripped by your short black school skirt, doing little to protect you from him where the pleated edges ride up your thighs, giving for a show of your chaste cotton underwear beneath it.
Your thigh-highs squeezing into the soft cake of your flesh. Teasing him. Making him want to squeeze you even tighter. Grab and hug and bite you.
The tears spring free once Bakugou's clammy hands start groping at your ass. His fingers curling around the band of your panites and pulling down your thighs and knees and legs before ripping it off at your thrashing feet, leaving you shaking in just your cute bra, skirt and socks.
Your knees quaking as they huddle together, pointlessly trying to protect what tenderness found between your thighs from the beast on top.
But Bakugou pays your meagre efforts no mind.
He just reaches forward and grabs your legs, prying them apart. Having falling much too deep into his desperate need of fuck you dumb than to care of the resistance you might put up beforehand.
Especially when most of your struggle was kept contained by redhead beneath, where all your other pathetic thrashing only resulted in the blond's raging temper, where with much unneeded brute strength he roughly grabbed you by the calf before you managed breaking his nose with your clumsy panicked kicking.
You cry out under the assault. Bawling into Kirishima's hand and try pulling your bruised legs back to yourself. Whimpering all cutely for the strong men you're caught between.
But the redhead only tuts at you, his other hand keeping a tight grip around your waist, keeping you close. His cheek squished against your cheek, rubbing against your hot tears while his lips kiss at the space right next to the hand kept like a muzzle over your mouth.
"Don't struggle, baby girl." He whispers, his breath warm and ticklish against the peach-fuzz on your cheek. "You wouldn't guess it, but Pop-rocks here's extremely sensitive you see." He chuckled. "Fight too much and he'll start feeling insecure. And trust me, you don't wanna be hurting his flimsy feelings-"
"Shut up, Shitty-hair." Bakugou interrupted in a growl and you felt the sharp teeth of Kirishima's smirk graze your cheek, making you still. "And make her stop squirming."
“You hear that, sweetheart? Already on his last straw..." The redhead threatened playfully.
And all you could do was whimper pitifully in return.
"You'll be a good girl for us, won't you?" He asked, kissing your cheek tenderly, making you whine whilst Bakugou's coarse fingers greedily carded into the plush fat of your thighs. "We don't wanna hurt yah, toots, but one way or the other, today and tomorrow, we're gonna figure out how many times we can make you cum before you pass out."
His words had you shudder while bleating. Big pleading eyes looking to the blonde on top of you, silently begging him to stop.
But Bakugou paid little attention to what transpired from Kirishima's pointed teeth and your reaction to his cruel words.
He was much too busy doing what he'd imagined so many times before when stalking you to have the focus to amuse his boyfriend's petty intimidation games.
There were more important things waiting for him after all.
His strength barely needed as he grabbed you beneath the knees and pushed your thighs to each their side.
Already salivating at the mouth. His dick drummed at the thought of fucking you into a wet little cross-eyes mess.
Thoughts drifting to what a good little bookworm you were. Always chewing your pencil with your eyes flitting over textbook pages. Your knees tapping against one another, giving him a slight peek at your panties each time your thighs softly clap together beneath the table.
And Kirishima got hard with you twisting against his chest as he watched the blond's eyes go opium-black with soaking dark desire. His spiky ash-blond locks ducking down as he pulled you forward with his meaty arms looped and locked around your thighs.
Hot eager tongue meeting your exposed cunt hungrily. Making you squeak and Kirishima chuckle wickedly whilst holding you still.
Bakugou's red eyes couldn't leave you. Looking up between the the valley of your tits squished in your white floral-lace bra, at your pretty teary eyes and that sweet crinkle between your brows, and your tiny face caught inside Kirishima's large scarred paw.
He grabbed you harder with a rowdy growl, spiked by the cute lewd sight of you, sucking harder at your clit. Some part of him getting immensely off on how fucked up what he was doing was, and how he was doing it to sweetest kindest you.
Angelic you, who reacted with a whine as he curved his tongue inside you. Kicking the balls of your feet into his back, digging them into his muscles, gripping his shirt with curled toes, trying any desperate attempt to pull him off.
But Bakugou didn't mind your pathetic aims.
In fact, it all just made him seem all the more keen.
Further abusing how lapping at your poor little bundle of nerves had your back arching from Kiri's chest and your doughy thighs quaking in his arms.
"You should feel lucky." Kirishima broke your struggle, licking your cheek with words. "He doesn't eat me like that."
Bakugou grunted. "'Cause you drink too much soda-" He mumbled, his angry eyes dragging from intently watching your face twist along the sharp movements he made with his lips and tongue, to glaring at the redhead by your side. "Tastes like acid- not sweet like this."
"Ouch, Bakuboo." Kirishima feigned hurt. "I thought you'd be sweeter once I gave you this little gift." He teased as his rough hand spidered up your back while still keeping you down with the other. Tampering with the clasp to your bra. Pinching the mechanism and releasing your breasts.
"Tch-" Bakugou scoffed, scooching further up the bed again. "Don't think I owe you anything. We both know this's as much for me as it is for you."
His thighs touched yours as he circled your clit with the rough base of his thumb. Rubbing patterns on top of it. Making you whimper and writhe as his lips once again came to kiss your chest, now with your nipples free for him to suck on.
"Yeah, but if it'd been up to you we'd be stuck daydreaming about this cutie forever. Wouldn't we, Scaredy-Kat?" Kirishima further poked whilst Bakugou tried comforting himself from the snide comments in the pillow of your chest. Rather fixating on how wet with you his hand was, how silken and velvety and soft your cunt now was after he'd sucked and tasted you.
Your breathing stilled as you felt him tease your opening for a second. Crying more as he pushed his crooked fingers inside your drooling cunt. Starting to pump and work your tightness. Briefly preparing you whilst his cock strained close to painfully inside his pants.
"Shut up, Shitty-hair..." He grumbled, rising from your chest.
Fingers wet as they fiddled with the belt to his pants. Ripping it loose from it's loops and throwing it to clatter on the floors.
"Heh, I'm just teasing yah..." Kirishima crooned, large red eyes glued to watch the man in front buttoning up his slacks.
Watching intently as he reached a large hand within his trousers. Freeing the thick meat kept bulging within the confines of his boxers.
Standing proudly, purple veins strumming up the shaft on both sides, pumping blood to the head that seemed angry by the long wait it had endured.
The redhead felt your whimpers vibrate against his palm, where you as well were no doubt watching the same intimidating sight as him.
"You know I like watching you have fun." He whispered, though it wasn't meant for you.
Tone playful and wanton and sadistically gleeful as he continued watching the blond play with your cute dripping cunt with one hand and himself with the other.
Strong fingers rubbing up and down his own size. Thick where they spread you open and rubbed cruel friction upon your buzzing clit.
And you could only watch as he shuffled forward some more. Pushing his plush bulged and weeping cock-head against your slit, where leaking from his slit dribbled hot pre-cum he painted your folds with, mixing it up and down your own wetness, as you desperately sobbed to let them free you.
But Kirishima held you tightly. One arm locked over your waist, keeping your arms to your sides, whilst the other still kept your pleas muffled.
And your scream once Bakugo pushed forward and filled your tightness up snug with one swift roll of his hips.
Barreling forward with a deep groan. He squeezed your thighs tight in a bruising grip and hissed at the tightness. Sure to leave spotted marks on your skin where his fingers dup inches into your flesh.
His head dipped down to your shoulder, continuing to push deeper inside even though he was already at your cervix. His scruff brushing against your cheek as he placed sluggish kisses alongside your jaw.
Your body tense between them. Tense with pain and fear of tearing in two once the blond started moving. Dragging his thick length out where your taunt walls clung to him. Slowly at first, but soon with such a force you were rocked like a boat in a storm. Your tits doing jumps and your legs springing where they where held in the air. Feeling someway weightless and lightheaded being stuffed full in one second and robbed in the other.
Kirishima removed his hand and you were just a second to late to beg them to stop before Bakugou had your mouth stuffed with the frill of your pink lace panties.
You sobbed again, but sucked on the cloth for comfort as you thighs ached from the constant pain of having the strong hero-student's fingers bury themselves greedily into the flesh there. Having you spread wide as he rolled his thickness inside your weeping wet cunt, milking him uncontrollably as the other brute's hand clasped atop you belly, with abusive fingers as coarse as rock flicking mercilessly on your poor budding clit, making you clench so tightly on the member taking up space inside he couldn't last longer even if he'd wanted to.
You were sure his nails tore your flesh. His mouth leaving your neck wet with drool as he groaned into you on last time.
You could feel it filling you with warmth. Dripping from you hole where he was still pumping it into you in slow and deep bumps against your womb.
Disgust drained your veins of their blood, making you feel sick.
Overwhelmed with dejection, where still a mixture of disbelief of what had just happened still lingered in those places you still felt warm and safe deep within.
Your flesh crawled, where in the cold sweat layered like dew on your skin you felt used. And in the harsh pressure beneath the four handprints that pawed at you, you felt fear.
But somehow, in the way warm cum seemed to cool as it dripped from your cunt where the male was done pumping it into you, you felt relieved that it was all finally over.
You closed your eyes and cringed as Bakugou's softening dick slinked out of you.
Breathing better once Kirishima did you the justice of pulling your panties out of your mouth.
He happily watched you pant before looking to Bakugou who'd collapsed on top of you. Ruffling his ash-blonde head.
"Mmh..." He hummed, shifting beneath you. "My turn, buttercup."
♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist
♡ KIRISHIMA EIJIROU masterlist
♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist
Revised version available here:
Read before bedtime! College Years is a collection of twenty short erotic thrillers, each with a loose theme revolving around college—and co
Reaaaally feeling the bully!Bakugou being sweet and redeeming himself to victim!darling!!! But could you make one where darling doesn’t accept him after all 😈 😈 😈 and he’s suddenly not so inclined to be sweet anymore???
Changed it up a bit from the last one cuz i didn’t wanna write the same-ish thing, but anyway check that one out too here
BNHA ! FIC
Bakugou Katsuki x darling
TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon, mentions of minors/teens having sex (but no actual depictions of it), toxic relationship, possessiveness, angst
WC: 3.5k
No One Else
She’s not sure why she'd ever let it drag out for so long.
In the beginning, it could be blamed on things outside their control. Where, between the tension that had always simmered within their strained dynamic as pretty girl and vile boy -plus the oncoming of puberty and its whirl of hormones- they were both left in a turmoil of strange pheromones making them panicked, embarrassed, confused, and most of all in dire need of an outlet for it all.
One of which they surprisingly found in each other.
They’d been but foolish teenagers at a silly house party at the time, their first-ever shots of alcohol buzzing through their system as they shared a kiss like none other.
They’d stumbled up the stairs and gotten frisky in the bedroom while family pictures of their shared friend and his family witnessed them tearing at each other until the skin of childhood had shed and left them both as grown-ups.
Waking up with a new special understanding of themselves and each other, one with a strange respect and newfound curiosity for the other’s body.
But why he hadn't grown bored of it since and why she'd never put her foot down and ended things was beyond her.
Katsuki had explained it once, one of those times he'd come stumbling into her apartment, drunk and in the midst of buckling up his pants while pawing at her. Kissing her sloppy, he’d mumbled out something along the lines of how no one else knows him like she does.
And she supposed that had mainly been the reason; that they just knew each other too well and had known each other too long, to which point everyone else just seemed alien; that there was a sort of comfort -if one could call it that- in the familiarity of each other that just couldn't be replicated or replaced by anyone else.
She’d been raised and groomed to sustain Katsuki and all his ugly tempers all her life. And -blinded by a sense of distorted credit she used to don herself- she couldn't quite imagine anyone being able to handle him but her. And -though she still can’t really put her finger on why- the thought had used to make her proud.
It had made her feel somewhat special...
And needed.
She thought it would go on forever then…
Not that she’d ever bothered to give it much thought.
That is… until she had that very flirty encounter at the café where she worked. Where, in between being sweet-talked into a stuttering blushed mess and being asked out for coffee someplace where she wouldn't have to serve it herself, she’d come to question her current relationship and started doubting her true obligations toward Katsuki as a partner.
They didn’t go on dates. They didn’t live together. They didn’t text or call one another. They didn’t eat dinner or plan things or visit each other’s parents.
She didn’t have anything in his apartment, nor him in hers. She’d never washed any of his clothes. She’d never worn any of his clothes. She’d never even driven his car.
They’d never given each other presents. They didn’t tell people about their relationship. They didn’t talk about work, their day, or their feelings. Actually -having given it a long thought- they didn’t really talk at all.
In fact, when it came down to it, the only thing she'd been able to think of that they'd ever done together… was sex.
Sex and nothing more…
She doesn’t know if things would have ever changed if he hadn’t asked her what the number scrawled in blue pen on her arm was...
But nevertheless, that’s when Katsuki started acting strange.
She'd never expected he’d get so upset by it, but she ended up apologizing that night while promising him that next time she wouldn’t be so silly, that next time she’d make it clear she already had a boyfriend.
She remembers thinking how the way he fucked her that night had been nothing short of desperate. Having given her nearly no room to breathe with how tightly he’d held her, his face nuzzling into her neck with lovebites, thrusting into her in such a way he was barely even pulling out, pounding her cervix more than her cunt to the point she’d feared it bruised, having had to pat his shoulder to tell him to calm down.
He’d held her face then, and she’d realized that they hadn’t really had too much eye contact before. She remembers that even then, she couldn’t really decide if she liked it or not. Or rather... she’s sure she’d found it unpleasant, though just hadn’t had the guts to give the feeling any influence.
She regrets it now that it’s too late. Maybe if she’d done or said something back then, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was trapped in now.
For lack of a better -more suitable- word, she’d have to say he’d become clingy if only it didn’t sound too sweet and childish for someone so much larger than her. But maybe she’d just feared calling it what it had been.
And what it had really been…
Was threatening.
Overbearing and possessive, and needlessly protective. He’d quickly become paranoid with jealousy. Portraying strange obsessive emotions she hadn't known he harbored for her at all until then.
She hadn’t really been able to put her finger on it at the time.
It started out small. Or, small in comparison to now. Small pleasantries he’d never bothered with before. Small niceties she’d never imagined the two of them would do together.
Thinking back, the first deviation -aside from the triggering night he’d initially seen the phone number and felt the threat of her slipping from his grasp- was the time he’d come and visited her at work when out on patrol. And though he hadn’t really asked, she’d come to realize -rather hesitantly- that he’d come there to eat lunch together with her.
Maybe she’d been too swept up in the embarrassing buzz to notice, caught in the paparazzi of hushed whispers and judgy stares -all of them asking whom the Plain Jane thought she was, eating lunch with the up-and-coming pro-hero Dynamight- she hadn’t really the time nor mind to pay attention to him and all his newly awoken instincts regarding her.
It seemed fucking silly now… How she’d foolishly thought the bizarre lunch was an isolated incident of which wouldn’t ever happen again, only to find herself quickly schooled the next day and the day after that, coming to understand she was to expect it as a regular thing. And soon, it wasn’t even the strangest thing anymore.
Soon he was driving her home every day, coming inside, eating dinner, watching the news until late, and staying the night. Soon she found herself waking up in his apartment alone, coming downstairs to find he’d made her breakfast before leaving, combined with a little note telling her when he’d be back. Soon she wasn’t spending a single week or weekend without him. Soon she couldn’t find anything to wear that didn’t either remind her of him or smell like him or that downright didn’t belong to him completely.
And he’d started taking her places too -on dates- broadcasting their relationship to anyone with a cameraphone who could snap a picture and send it to every gossip magazine in Japan. He’d introduced her to his colleagues -whom she knew to be “friends” from some rather upsetting stories he’d told her when he was in a less and less rare mood for talking- and they’d seemed to know whom she was just as intimately, giving her the sneaking suspicion that Katsuki’d been running his mouth and saying private things he ought not to.
But that had all been child’s play.
It got out of control when he’d ordered a delivery truck to pack down all her things and move them all to his apartment before she got home from work. Sure, he’d introduced the idea of living together in passing, but she couldn’t remember ever committing to it or being at all close to an understanding of where and when.
Thinking about it now, that was probably her last chance of escaping before things got ugly.
But then, it was already too late. She was living with him suddenly. Sharing all his space while unable to shake that awfully crippling feeling of just being another medal or trophy up on the mantle. Just a decorative doll he’d locked behind glass.
She’d felt as though her head was in a cloud. And not in a nice way, but in the utmost hollow way. As though she’d put herself on auto-pilot and just gone with the stream like jellyfish.
And now…
Now he was down on one knee.
Asking -no demanding- that she give him everything.
For life until due death.
Just the two of them.
Together.
Forever.
She swallowed thickly, feeling her head prickle as though it had fallen asleep without taking her with it.
Her lips dry, her eyes dry, feeling more sober than ever.
She took a breath and, on the next exhale, spoke.
“No.”
They both just stared at each other for a while as though neither could decide who was more shell-shocked and had the right reserved to remain still the longest. She left -deciding it was the person on the floor with the expensive ring weighing down his hand- and walked towards the mudroom.
“What are you doing?” He asked then, hesitantly at first. Shaken from his spot, he’d resumed his full height again, loudly stomping across the floor to reach her.
“I’m sorry- I- I can’t stay here- I need to go.” She rushed, head spinning, only able to understand how she wanted to put shoes on and leave. Maybe get a drink at a bar by herself and figure her shit out without being suffocated by him.
“Don’t do this.” He said then, sounding desperate and somewhat feeble if it weren’t for how he had her pushed against the wall in the same second.
She nearly decided against herself when seeing the look on his face. Warped into something truly fragile. Plead had his brows pinched together while his sharp red eyes -now doe-like- had glossed over and looked nothing short of hopeless and scared.
She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her heart twist and ache and feel a little guilty.
But nevertheless.
“I can’t marry you, Katsuki….”
She couldn’t keep doing this.
“I’m sorry- I don’t love-”
She didn’t get to finish. The word taken, stifled, strangled in a fist closing around her throat.
“You do love me.” He refuted quickly, as though terrified to have let her finish. “You’ve always loved me.” Trembling while he said it, as though trying to force himself into believing it too.
Shaking her collar in unstable hands. Bearing down on her until she couldn’t be pushed flatter against the stone behind her, until his forehead rested against the wall and his lips brushed the shell of her ear in hot, heavy strained breaths.
“You’re just confused.” He rasped, voice light and breathy and nearly amounting to a giggle -or a sob- she wasn’t sure which.
But she couldn’t care much when she couldn’t breathe. Head burning into a numb wet cotton that was no longer able to tell her to push him off and instead let her hands go limp against his chest, knees going weak beneath her.
“Katsuki… Kat… su-”
She was convinced he’d kill her before the tiniest slither of air was allowed back in through her windpipe, gasping for it like a glutton until coughing it all up again when choking on her own desperate gulps.
Her hands held her throat in an act of soothing it from the forming bruises and shielding it from further attack. But Katsuki was ahead of her and had his sights on attacking something else.
He took her by the hair and started pulling, dragging her from the door and further into the apartment.
“Stop- stop it- Katsuki-” She begged between hiccups and coughs, her hands clawing at his in an effort to free his grasp from her scalp. Her shins dragged to burns against the cold marble as her legs kicked in the struggle, hitting the floor in a series of sporadic thuds until he stopped. “Katsuki-”
He’d crossed the threshold of their bedroom and was now throwing her down on the mattress, pinning her in the same second with a hand gripping her jaw and eyes a searing cold that seemed to lash out at her like unstable fire, glaring at her with a look so blank and empty she felt it like the chill of death creep throughout her bones.
“If you want me to be nice, you should shut up.”
She knew she ought to listen, but still, one last prayer slipped off her tongue against her better judgment before she could think twice about it. “Katsuki, please don’t do this-”
“Don’t do what!?” He barked -spit flying and teeth bared just like a rabid rottweiler- louder than she’d ever witnessed, loud enough to make her wince. “Break your heart!?” His voice cracked on the cry, and he paused, giving another gruesome and gut-wrenching chuckle. Head ducking between her breasts with spikey hair nipping at her throat like a million needles.
His hand tightened even more, clawing into her cheeks.
“I’m just making things even.”
She’d never realized just how hopeless she was if she’d ever needed to fend him off. But she’d never needed to before, never wanted to until now.
Now that he had her so helplessly beneath him, where the reality was slowly dawning on her and making her ever more hysteric, slowly settling upon her like dust after an explosion. The ensuing violation and her utter defeat in fighting it, her failure in doing much more than make it worse, where every time she landed anything that weakly resembled a slap or kick, he retaliated tenfold by crushing her in his strength.
Spreading her legs by positioning himself between them, he cared little for all her bleating where the former fight she’d tried to make match his diminished into desperate attempts to protect herself instead. She was sobbing now, gasping for breath with her chest rising and falling on beat with the deafening drums of her racing heart.
He tugged his tie loose and threw it off his head, wrapping her wrists in the loop and tightening it into restraints. Only now noticing just how brittle she was. So much smaller than him. So much so, he nearly abandoned his task of tying her hands to the bedpost in all. But -finding he might lose his cool and break her arm if she dared continue shoving at him- he pulled them over her head and fastened them anyway, if not for his than for her sake to avoid it.
And then she really was less than nothing beneath him. Just a defenseless pile of warm plush flesh soft against him and all his scarred muscles and callouses and years upon years of dedicated training.
She’d pulled her thighs shut, but it hardly mattered. His hands -buried in the fine plume of her cakey fat- had them both spread again with nearly no strength put into it at all.
It was all right there -taken with no effort- only a cute pink cotton panty stopping him.
His heart clenched at that, flickered and tugged with misery at the look of her crying into her own arm, trying to comfort herself while her chest heaved, already tired of screaming and bawling. Having resorted to soft sniffles and weak snivels while tiny quakes shook through her still, goosebumps adorning all her exposed flesh, which was every part of her sept for what her pretty silk dress kept hidden.
She was so beautiful…
Adorable.
Precious and just…
Too good.
He knew that. He knew that she was too good for him and had always been too good for him -part of the reason why he used to act as though he hated her- when, in reality… he actually…
“I love you.” He cried. “I’ve always loved you….”
Hot tears splashed in big droplets, staining the silk with splotches that seeped into large flecks on her stomach.
“I can’t live without you-” He continued, his hands shaking where he held her apart while his body sagged forward, bowing down, donning soft kisses to her neck and jaw, upon the tears staining her cheeks with streaks, whispering in a voice close to breaking. “I can’t- I won’t-” Choked and pitiful, raw from shouting only a moment earlier.
One of his hands detached from its bruising grip, whilst the other loosened and slid higher -pulling her dress up on its way- and started rubbing loving circles into her midriff. She heard his buckle go undone a second later and offered another whimpering sob, her own hands jostling in their bonds on beat with her shaky breaths while trying to angle her face further away with the aim of avoiding the attack of his wet teary kisses.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t let you go.”
She felt him press against her clothed cunt with the weight of his swollen thickness and let out another whimper. Nose stuffed full with the smell of his breath and the scent of his sweet nitro-like sweat and eyes full of unyielding tears.
His hand reached for her panty, hooking the trail and pulling it to the side, making her sink her teeth into the plump of her lip to suppress yet another whimper while she cringed with uncomfort and the unanswered wishes for him to stop as he nibbled on the corner of her mouth with more teary proposals.
His fingers soon prodded her slit like they’d done nearly every day for years since they were but teens. Touching her with a perfected skill he’d learned would have her shiver with arousal.
She yielded quickly, her sex turning puffy and wet sooner than she had the time to be embarrassed about it.
“No one knows you as well as I do. No one loves you as much as I do.” He chanted against her skin, entering her with both his longest digits, pumping them deep and scraping them in a cruel curl into that spot he knew had her toes doing the same. Smiling, once her hips made an involuntary jolt in response. “No one else but me.”
He pulled his hands to himself once she’d left three of his digits warm and soaking with slick, lathering his own arousal with it before nudging his cockhead against her opening in a sticky kiss and breaching it.
She stiffened, and he groaned into her neck at the feel of her clamping down even tighter as he bottomed out into her already taunt choke.
“No one else would know how to love you.” He hissed, setting a sweet tempo, lips still close, grazing on the peachfuzz of her cheek, ghosting her skin with hot breaths and even hotter words. “No one else would know the first thing to do with you once they had you.”
She shook her head, more so in askance of space than anything else. Needing air free of him. Needing to clear her head off the building warmth she felt spread from her core. Needing to shake the coil loose before it could knot itself further. But it seemed the more she tried fending it off, the faster it neared its end, like a spark aided by the wind in chasing the tail of a wic until exploding what dynamite found at its end.
She always shook so prettily when cumming -so preciously- when spilling over and moaning all flushed and cute for him with her hips riding it out against his until it left her panting, blushed, and adorned with a shiny sheen of dew, making her look golden in the glory of the after high.
He used to regard it as something sweet she’d give him, like a reward or devotion.
Only now did he realize how utterly at his mercy she was -unable to keep even this from him- just completely laid bare to accept what he gave and give what he decided to take.
She was his, and not even she herself could deny it.
ik you get this one a lot, but bully!bakugo is my fav, plez feed me, im nothing but a lil humble bitch who wants to wear his skull hoodie while he fucks me deep
A curt chirp of her phone and the following reminding message from one explosive boy had her locked down on plans for the evening.
Her friends were going to the movies and though the movie they had decided on wasn't really something of interest to her, it was far from the reason as to why she blew them off.
More the reason wasn't because she at all liked the person she’d chosen before them, because she didn't really like him at all. Then again, it was less her choice and more his demand, and though she’d spent more time on him than anyone else the past couple of weeks she wouldn't at all call them close friends.
So, the reason why she let him command her about like she was his personal slave was also the reason why she let herself fall into this trap in the first place... it was Bakugo Katsuki... and if the boy wasn't either mean or patronizing, he was well beyond fucking terrifying.
.
Study-sessions were never study-sessions anymore.
Though, they never really were to begin with.
Ever since the time she was unfortunate enough to be partnered up with him in biology.
It seemed at first that Bakugo Katsuki was a lot more academically inclined than what she’d judged and given him credit for. Where it had gone from sharing one class that with her luck had her in a joined school-project she was sure she’d have to do on her own with little to no help from the ego-inflated hero-course angry ash-blonde brute, to then, with much overwhelming surprise and anxiety, being invited to come work on the assignment in his dorm.
Or... granted, it was less an invitation and more a command.
Bakugo wrote:
Bakugo Katsuki, class 3-A, Hero-course.
We are collaborating on an assignment in the Biology class we share on Mondays.
I don't appreciate falling behind.
My dorm-room is in 3-A Heights Alliance on campus, 4th floor, left wing, room 3.
If you can't manage, send me a text and I’ll come to you.
sent at 14.24 today
Even his texts were bitingly passive aggressive. It was like a formal letter, casually hinting that she was some idiot who couldn't find the dorms, the same dorms practically everyone on campus fussed and talked up storms about.
And what was with stating his entire name and status? As though she wouldn't know it was him by simply writing Bakugo.
She shook her head softly as she read it again, eyebrow raised in slight disbelief at his audacity, imaging his berating tone in her head, so loud and aggressive and patronising like she couldn't understand the most basic of instructions, like he was talking down to a mere child before she’d even gone and gotten herself lost.
However, she’d known better than to ignore him even back then, and though she didn't want to trap herself in his room, she most certainly didn't want him in hers.
Texting back she’d be there soon, to which he replied when, where she took a gamble and guessed roughly ten minutes, praying that she hadn't spoken too soon, anxious when thinking about how embarrassing it would be if things proved she actually wasn't capable of following his precise directions.
And so the quest to find his room took fifteen.
She remembers the first time knocking on his door, how it felt so very odd, and she guessed it still felt odd, how her stomach seems to fold in on itself in ever which way, knowing that he is on the other side. All-time champion of the Sports Festivals, two years and running. It would be impressive, or... it was obviously impressive, but she would savour it more if he hadn't such an unsavoury disposition.
She hadn't really any problem with him before she was forced to be in company with him, but now with the guy pestering her to continue their daily meet-ups she just couldn't help but pout and frown at the mere thought of him.
“You’re late.” He’d grumbled when she for the very first time knocked a timid tune on his door.
“What? But I-I just texted you a minute ago-” She’d defended softly, simply standing there under his harsh gaze, awkwardly, in his doorway, in the hallway, where other rooms to other Hero’s in progress were listed up and down the row, making her feel so immensely unimportant in the world.
“That was a quarter of an hour ago.” He’d commented, arms crossed over his puffed out chest, and she remembers thinking how it was odd for someone who seemed like a such a badass to be so strict, almost like a squeaky clean goody-toe-shoes, not allowing her five minutes of wiggle-room.
“And?” She’d asked, instantly regretting her tone of voice, seeing how despite apparently being somewhat of a rule-respecter, he was still very much... well... deadly.
“You said ten minutes.”
He’d made to lean in the doorway, as though waiting for an apology before letting her inside. Strangely wasting even more of the precious time he was so adamant on making sure she understood the importance of.
With a shiver up her spine, she came to the scary conclusion that he just liked stepping on ants.
“Yeah...” She’d said sheepishly, distracting herself by playing with a scrunchy in her hands, pulling on it instead of looking up into his searing red eyes. “Give or take five.”
“Give, evidently.” Was the last thing he’d said before yanking her, quite literally by the collar with a hand grabbing her tie, inside the enclosure of his room, which was again surprisingly neat and not at all like how she knew other teenage-boy-rooms to look like.
He was odd.
Even on the very first study-session he’d insisted they sit close, get inside each other’s head, on the bed, because he didn't have two chairs they could use if they were to sit by his desk. And although she wanted to suggest he take the desk and she the bed, or vice versa, it seemed stupid to even mentioned it, knowing he probably already knew of the possibility.
He’d touched her thigh the first time she was there, brushed a loose strand of hair from falling in front of her eyes as she buried her face in the biology book when trying to the best of her efforts at ignoring his pestering questions and how he would resort to calling her mean names when she couldn't answer textbook biology questions, even when those questions were entirely unrelated to their assignment.
He’d mentioned something about quirks being related to how your personality manifests and not the other way around like so many believe, while looking at her shy curled up state, brazen fingers reaching for her before she’d tucked herself even closer away into a ball, cowering though defensively keeping the pose as he proceeded to mention how small and weak and frail she looked, like little cornered prey, seemingly obsessivly curious as to what quirk she had, where by the end they hadn't really made any progress due their assignment at all, despite him having kept her there for a full six hours.
She could never forget the blitz in his eyes when she told him she was quirkless.
A few times later he’d tested the waters even further, teasing her and coaxing and taunting, seeing how it was so mouthwateringly apparent how she was obviously terrified of him, never telling him to stop even once as he decided to demonstrate just how defenceless she was to stop anyone from doing what they wanted with her.
He'd pulled her tiny frame beneath his mass of muscles, whispering in her ear about all the vile things he could do and all the reasons why quirkless little her couldn't do shit to stop him.
His thirst only quenched when he’d drawn a full waterfall of tears from her pretty eyes, throwing his head back with a scoffed out laugh, grinning when saying she’d better count her blessings that there were stronger more capable people out there protecting weaklings like her.
Around the thirteenth time she was there she was so tired she managed to fall asleep in the heap of notes and books strewn about the bed, just a little ball of soft snores on the ash-blonde's pillow.
She was at least blaming it on being tired when she’d started bobbing her head as her eyes began gliding close every second, struggling to stay awake, but one look to her side would have her seeing white powder beginning to pool in the bottom of the glass of water Bakugo had so chivalrously handed to her with a grunt.
Waking up to her alarm ringing in the morning, eyes busy refocusing while heavy with sleep, trying to blink off the blurriness as she fought to find her phone to switch her incessant alarm off, body freezing over in split-second hair-rising distress as someone else beat her to the punch.
“Shouldn't y’get ready for class? Or are yah gonna drool on my pillow forever?” A voice quipped, and she whipped around at the feel of her heart jumping into her throat. “Mornin’.”
“What the- why-” She gaped, clutching the comforter to her chest, sheets none other than Bakugo could have pulled over her, eyes blown wide like dinner-plates as she gawked at him sitting at his desk typing away ever so casually on his computer, bare-chested, dressed only in dark grey sweats.
He spun on his chair, looking at her, head slightly tipped to the side.
“What?”
He quirked a brow, slight smirk playing at the edge of his lips, though barely present.
She squirmed on the bed, scrambling to her feet.
“What the...”
Although relieved at the sight of her clothes still framing her body, she still had trouble wrapping her head around the situation, adorable frustrated confusion warping her face into a disoriented drowsy mess.
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep.” He stated calmly with a shrug, like it was no big deal, still working at a moderate pace typing on the keyboard as though the scene was the most normal thing in the world.
“Ok... why... didn't you wake me?”
She dared stare at him, even as those great all-knowing ruby-eyes that always seemed to follow her around turned to address her where she clenched her little fist at her side and sucked in a breath when he narrowed them at her, chewing on the inside of her cheek and digging her nails into her palm at the intimidating glare, leaving pretty crescent-mooned-dentures to fade in their wake.
“Not my fault you don't take care of yourself.” He stated with an almost accusatory bite, getting out of his chair with a push to his desk. “Overworking and passing out on my bed.”
He neared her trembling little hopeless frame, one heavy step at a time. Eyes still slitted with scrutiny as he continued his rant.
“Are you drinking enough? Are you even eating? Are you making sure you're gettin' enough slee-”
She avoided him, slipping passed him as he nearly raged with un-called concern for her and her lack of self-care, leaping towards his door to escape.
“Ah- I- I need to get home- school. I need to get to class.” She blurted out, tripping over her tongue, stuttering and stammering as she dived for her sneakers.
He huffed, watching her clumsily manoeuvre around. Such a klutz it almost wasn't even funny.
“Forget somethin’?”
She looked up from her position of quickly and gracelessly tying her shoes, seeing he was holding her phone in his hand, smiling down at her, eyes gleaming with something she knew she didn't want to get familiar with.
Getting up, she made to retrieve it, only for her arm to get caught in his much too large and rough hand.
“I’mma text you later. Answer me.”
He pulled her forward, or rather... pulled her inn, towards him, into his broad bare chest, his bulging pecs, into his warmth, oozing heat like from an oven, and then his mouth was on hers.
Soft as they were bold, his lips pushed for more, pushing for her to kiss back even as she stood still and stiff like a statue in his arms, face flat, muscles tense, hairs on strict end with the creepy crawling feeling that this was by far not the last thing he’d demand of her.
“You’re cute when you sleep.” He commented. “I have proof of it.” He whispered and she thought she just might begin crying out of fear, quivering in his hold, mind spinning while pondering whether he meant proof as in memories or pictures. “Come back after school.”
“I... I d- don't think-” She tried, but he would have none of it.
“Don't piss me off now.” He warned, slightly twisting her arm in his grip, not in any painful way but definitely so she knew he wasn't just asking. “Have a good day.”
He picked up her bag and handed it to her with a smile, seemingly completely ignorent to the brimming tears in her eyes and the shell-shocked look on her face, looking almost as though he was admiring it as he leaned over her and opened the door.
“Don't forget our date.”
When did study-sessions turn into something as dangerous as dates?
.
The day went by awfully quickly as she was once again stood placed loyally outside his dorm-room-door yet again, wondering if whether turning back and leaving would do her any good or if it would just land her in a world of other trouble, where the more she thought about it, clutching the strap to the schoolbag on her shoulder, wringing it in her sweaty palms, knees creaking under her weight, she began forgetting how to breathe.
Minutes passed and she stood there, shaking like a leaf caught in the wind, unable to move, whether it be knocking on the door or running to safety, but she wasn't left much of an option when what had her in such a state ripped the door open with a great growl evident in his throat and a look dead-set on hunting slapped on his face.
Until he noticed her standing there, just like she was supposed to, cute tiny frame just begging to be used.
“There you are. I was sure I’d killed off the nasty habit you have of being late.”
The statement brought nostalgia, even a sense of deja vu.
“Doesn’t matter, come’ere.”
He pulled her by the arm this time, yanking her inside and shutting the door behind her before pushing her up against it, large hand placed on her throat, pinning her between him and the hard wood behind her, not allowing her to look away or duck or avoid his lips closing in on hers.
Her muffled whine was easily overcome by Bakugo’s heavy grunt as he forced his face onto hers, his other hand having gripped ahold of her tiny breakable wrist once she made the slightest effort in pushing him off.
She relented immediately, put in place by the hand being kept firmly around her neck, his thumb pressing her chin up to meet him and his hungry mouth, his other fingers pinching her earlobe. His face scrunched in aching desire, ferocious brows intertwining with trembling ones, foreheads pressed neatly together, noses hugging, sharing hot air and spit.
He pushed her head into the wall and continued his ravishing by the hand constricting her air, mouth leaving a wet trail down her neck, biting harshly into her collar, hand pulling her shirt, buttons popping off, fabric singing into black ash biting her skin with harmless burns.
“Katsuki!” She squeaked as though he’d pay her meek little outcry any mind, besides finding the way she just whined his name fucking delicious.
He only laughed, snickering lightheartedly, unbothered.
“Shit, my bad.” He huffed, discarding of her shirt like a rag, letting it fall hot to the touch to the floor, leaving her in her cute lacy bra, flirty short black school-issued skirt and those precious white knee-high socks.
His hips were already moving on instinct, humping into nothing.
He repositioned his hands, dropping them to her hips, pulling at her weak footing, making her fit against him like a mold, hands traveling further, up under her skirt, grabbing at the cake of her ass to lift her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his torso as he pushed her yet again against the door, loud enough to have anyone walking by on the other side concerned, mouth never leaving her neck, deep in pursuit of marking his territory.
“Hang on.” He demanded, pinching the fat of her butt in warning, staring at her flush blushed face, wide-eyes terrified of disobeying him, slowly but surely latching onto him, fingers carefully running over his shoulders, braiding them together at the nape of his neck like her life was in the balance, like he was her saviour.
He lived for it.
The rest went over in a blur. Hurried and crazed, a fever dream of a sorts.
Frenzied and rushed as he carried her to the desk, not the bed, he dropped her back onto her feet and spun her around, pushing her hips-first into the desk.
Making some brutish movements with his hands as he did not bother taking her skirt off, favouring simply ripping her panties down to her knees in his haste and roughly playing with the sensitivity found between her thighs.
At least he placed somewhat appreciated kisses on the back of her neck and down her spine, yet nice gesture was short-lived and killed off with a harsh slap to her ass-cheek, and following it came the boyishly impatient movement of him bathing his leaking cock-head between the soft tender lips of her pussy, ramming into her without as much as a second thought.
He fucked her hard against the table, her hands placed flat against the wood to brace herself from his savage rutting, her hipbones bruising against the edge, bones creaking beneath the thin scathing skin.
And if Bakugo noticed her discomfort, he sure didn't act like it, biting into her shoulder and neck as he squished and pawed at her breasts, burying his fingers into the ample flesh of her midriff to keep her steady and well-positioned to meet his sharply aimed thrusts as he snapped his hips into her from behind at a pace nothing short of desperate, skin slapping loudly against skin.
It was all over in a flash. One moment she felt the pain of being stretched to accommodate for Bakugo and his third leg taking up space inside her, and in the next second the itch of his hair alongside his dripping forehead resting on her shoulder, panting hot and heavy down her spine.
She barely even remembers what happened afterwards. If he’d said anything. If he’d kissed her. If he at all guided her to his bed where she sure as anything, bright as the sunshine coming through his dorm-room window, clear as the crisp chirp and twitter of birds singing outside, heavy as the thick arm slung around her waist, and warm as the chest she was hugged tight against, woke up the next day.
Yet, although it could have easily been excused for a dream, the tight swelling pain felt below was not something she could simply ignore. Nor was the markings blossoming on her neck and the sore pressuring pains on her hips.
Not to mention the smell.
Though it wasn't a bad smell so to say, it was a smell nonetheless. A distinct aroma of sweat and sweetness, something so very personal, yet mingled, intimate, laid thickly and overwhelmingly around her, on her, smeared and coated on her like a second layer of skin, sticky in texture.
She made sure not to move too much while lifting Bakugo’s bear-paw off her and sliding out of the bed, standing in his room, feeling the chill rush over, kissing her skin with goosebumps, realizing she couldn't go anywhere without washing the stench of raw arousal off.
She needed to shower, there was no way around it, though it would have to be quiet and it had to be quick, or else she might risk waking Bakugo and she dearly wished to slip out discreetly, make her way to someplace where people couldn't understand that she was taking the walk of shame.
His bathroom was always so neat it bothered her.
Not a smudge on the mirror. Not a single hair on the floor. Fresh towels, clean tiles, everything smelling of lush expense, that sharp cologne Bakugo tried masking the sweet scent of honeycombs and caramel with, the scent she was reeking with now.
She hopped into the shower without further thought, low-pressure so not to wake the sleeping boy, quickly scrubbing herself clean of him.
Yet, as she walked out of the bathroom again, towel wrapped around her, she arrived at another problem.
Her underwear and bra was nowhere in sight, stains of something creamy white flecked her skirt, where her shirt laid unwearable by the door, singed to tethers and ripped to rags.
She sighed anxiously, gnawing on her lip, standing alone in the silence of the room, Bakugo’s gruff snores heard from where he laid heavily asleep hugging the pillow he was mistaking for her.
She had no other choice.
Seeing that wearing her clothes was off the table, and so was rushing back to her dorm in nothing but a silly towel, especially one that had Bakugo’s initials narcissistically customary sewn into them with loud red letters.
She walked to his closet, knowing where he would pull out his hoodies from all the countless hours she’d already spent in his presence in the intimate space of the dorm-room. Finding a pair of black sweatpants as well, seeing how the hoodie was just short of being deemed long enough in her standards.
And though it would have seemed she was seconds away from making it, the voice breaching the silence relieved her of all hope.
“Going somewhere?”
She looked like a South Park character, cute in his crude graffiti hoodie, large white cracked skull placed like death on the strictly black fabric, bulky and swelled in size, fitting her like it would a toddler. His large pants pooling around her feet, dragged beneath her heels, making her trip just a bit in them as she turned to find him spying.
He had an impressive build. Muscles still ever so clearly and intimidatingly present even beneath the coverage of his black T-shirt.
In any other circumstance she would have even called him pretty, and hot.
She could imagine her eyes going to him all the time if he was just another face at the beach or in some sweaty hot-shop club, sand-colored skin and magnificent toned abs and big bulging muscles flecked with droplets of water and sweat, sexy scars painting a story of a reckless boy as he flips and shakes his ash-blonde hair free of saltwater like a lions mane, pretty red-eyes looking like rubies and not at all any dark like sickening blood.
“Get out of my pants, thief.”
She wanted to bargain, tell him she couldn't very well leave his dorm with fuck-stains on her skirt, but the look on his face told her that he wasn't making her strip for the sake of getting his clothes back, but rather for the sake of... well... making her strip.
She gripped the bottom hem of the hoodie, fingering the thick material for a second with a sigh before she started lifting.
“I said pants, you moron. Leave the hood.” He barked, placing a heavy step forward towards her, thinking he’d do the honors of taking her pants off himself.
Large arms snatching her up before she could see what was happening, getting carried off to the bed.
“I can’t believe you, always such a fucking tease.” He shook his head, snickering before plopping her down on her back, grabbing the band to his sweatpants and pulling them down her thighs, ripping them off at her ankles and tossing them to one corner of the room.
“You ripped my top, I-” She defended, but Bakugo only scoffed, placing his weight onto her and taunting brazen touches between her thighs, up the soft pillowy flesh to comfort her unprotected tender little spot.
“Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t your intention to rile me up.” He drawled, licking at her neck as he spread her thighs further apart by shimming between them. “But that’s what you did, and there are consequences for being a little cock-tease.” He chuckled again, abusing her neck, his hot breath tickling the bruised sensitive skin. “This is your mess, you take responsibility for it.”
His thumb touched down on the sore little budding button of her clit, rubbing roughly into it, making her whine into his mouth as he kissed her.
“Or at the very least, don’t get in the way of me helping myself.”
He dived into her lips, moving passionately while his coarse hands explored brazenly beneath the hoodie, grabbing at her soft skin, raw after her hot shower of trying to wash him off her.
All in vain as it were.
It seemed he had more ambitions this time, not just one strict goal in mind, as he maneuvered downwards, his face soon positioned in front of what she was so eager to protect, mouth closing in with lips locking and a tongue ready to burrow itself.
Her eyes shot wide-open, face flushed and burning bright red as she scurried up higher on the bed, away from his wet attack.
“What are you doing?!”
Her features looked mortifyingly embarrassed, erratic and bewildered as she stared at him like a bunny eyeing the dripping teeth of a fox.
“Having a taste.” He answered, mischievous quirk playing at his lips with a haughty naughty gleam in his eyes as he yet again stalked forward with a specific target in mind. “Lie down, on your back.”
She didn't get much of a choice in the matter, what with his arms hooking beneath her knees and pulling her forth again, making her slide down onto her back.
She still looked dazed, small whimpers leaving her lips as he bowed down, hot puffs of air hitting her bare flesh.
“Don’t be shy, I won’t bite…” He soothed, eyeing her before arching a telltale brow “Much.”
Even with the warning she couldn't suppress the catlike whine that escaped her lips as he pressed his tongue between her folds, licking at the tenderness he’d fucked raw only hours ago.
“Aw, cute...” He moaned, peeking up at her, still with that crazed look swirling in his eyes, a look that had her cowering back into place. “Sore?” He snickered with a playful tone of voice. “Let me kiss it all better.”
There was a growl as he pulled her closer, sliding her once again down on her back, making her thump her head against the mattress with a squeal, tensing as he put his lips back on her, her hand instinctively finding its way to his hair, fingers burying themselves in the thick locks, not daring to yank but opting to grasp for just one measly strand of control, or at the very least the illusion of it.
He hugged her thighs close, nose rubbing into her clit, up and down as his tongue stretched deep inside her, swirling around while his lips sucked on the mound.
She gasped each time her clit buzzed, tensing up in split-seconds before unwinding, subconsciously trying to pull back just a little, back away from his antagonising mouth, but Bakugo strength didn't seem to mind where he held her firmly, locked in place in front of him, where her squirming only egged him on, fed his need to make her melt in his arms.
But once he felt her hips move in sync with the way he maneuvered his mouth, once she began rolling and lolling back into him, he pulled away, rubbing his chin into the hoodie she was wearing like a napkin.
He climbed back on top of her, looking down into her cotton-flavored features, pretty heavy-lidded eyes looking dopey and adorable with a dust of blush adorning her cheeks, lips wet and parted as she panted.
He regretted not looking at her face the first time, but he’d been too preoccupied to have enjoyed it then.
Now though, that he was calm and rational, collected and restrained and not just focused on dumping his load inside the poor girl like he was acting on some long grudge, he actually had the mind to bask in it for a moment.
“You’re so fucking cute.” He whispered, looking at her like how she’d imagine a pirate would eye treasure, completely drunk, obsessed, even possessed to some degree, where she couldn't shake the feeling of how absolutely terrifying it was to have someone like him, someone dangerous, call her something so adoring, especially with his dangerous hands rubbing small tentative circles into her aroused vulnerable clit.
It all made her chest burn and heart throb, being under his watchful vibrant eyes, knowing she couldn't hide a single thing from him, knowing he had her completely pinned beneath his thumb, where she found herself foolish for admitting it, though having to say it nonetheless... how threateningly thrilling, consuming and annihilating, how bloody addictive it was to feel like a dainty little flower beneath the rubber of a giant military boot. It was scary to find herself actually... loving it.
She willingly wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling him further in, against her, awaiting something to fill the longing drooling cavity within.
He moaned as he slipped inside, closing his eyes, ears twitching in bliss at the sound of the little thing beneath him, making small endearing noises of her own, sounds completely contrasting his, sweet like a daydream, tender, like nothing he’d ever heard before, strung out with the soft rise and fall of her chest, like bliss and peace and gratitude all mingled together to preform one sound devoted entirely for him, because of him.
He rocked once, going deeper and her hands shot forward, quite like they usually do when he doesn't take the liberty of pinning them to her sides, but this time, this time they caressed his abs instead of pushing, fingers curling into the cotton of his T-shirt, balling it up in her tiny fists and hanging onto him.
He repeated the motion, cock-head nudging against something that had her falling completely apart, knowing how he’d found some spot, some sweet weak spot he hadn’t reached when taking her from behind.
She was mewing beneath him, eyes wide and diving into his own, hands pulling him closer, her legs tangling around his torso like she never wanted to let go.
“That’s right.” He breathed onto her lips, staring with half-lidded drunken eyes into her own drowsed out gaze. “Girls like you need guys like me.”
She couldn't really find it in her to disagree with how she clung to him, hanging off of each and every one of his moves, moaning out in small girlish breaths of air as he rocked into her slowly and deeply.
“Any other guy wouldn't know the first thing of what to do with you once they had you...”
She wasn't sure what he meant, all she knew was how good everything felt when he was in control.
“You need someone who can make decisions for you.”
She didn't find it at all any bad to simply follow his lead, knowing full well that she would never have the guts to initiate anything remotely similar to what sticky fuckery they found themselves lost in at the moment.
“And I need someone who can take directions without any silly little protests.”
She would never have the guts to disobey him. Even thinking about it gave her chills.
