[shee-im-bi]

Sweetheart!Simon finding out you never squirted before-!

cw: porn link, mdni, fingering, squirting, sweet simon

When you casually mention that you can't squirt, Simon immedietaly pulls over from the road and looks at you confused.

And when you further explain it's because non of your past partners could do it when they tried, you whine about how you're totally convinced that there's something wrong with you and he decides to prove you wrong.

He immediately rolls up his tinted windows and lay you down in the backseat, spreading your legs open slowly and lowering your pants, eventually taking them off and tossing them somewhere followed by your panties short after, making you feel bare and embarrassed.

"Nothin's wrong with you, luv. Blokes these days just don't know how to treat a woman right, hm?"

He kisses your knee and spreads your legs wider when you try to close them because you started feeling exposed, suddenly shy under his gaze, but don't worry he'll take good care of you.

"Just relax for me sweetheart, yeahh just like that" he drags the syllable, eyes hooded with need and lip bitten between his teeth.

He starts by making you relax, kissing your hand, knee, calf; wherever his lips can reach, while rubbing slow deliberate circles on your aching clit.

After getting you all needy, relaxed and soft for him he'll press a finger in your waiting cunt, the length stretching you and making you squeeze him only to get a tut and a "need you to relax for me, luv"

And when you finally relax again he'll start moving his finger, the squelching sounds of your dripping cunt filling the small space only for him to add another when you least expect it, but the pain is nowhere to be found, replaced by pleasure and lust.

Simon thrusts his fingers in and out of you and just when you start to feel the coil in your stomach, indicating your approaching orgasm, he'll press his palm over the surface of your lower abdomen- right on top of your uterus- making you squeal and squirm a bit, receiving a light tap on the soft flesh;

"need you to stay still for me, sweetheart."

His voice is gruff and his breath starts quickening along with his fingers, his palm on your abdomen applying the perfect pressure, and just when you're about to cum, he'll curl his fingers just right to hit the spongy spot you can't reach by yourself making you arch your back and press harder on his palm;

"W-wait, Simon! F-feel like peeing-"

"That's the point, sweetheart. Let go for me" he pants above you, barely holding himself together.

And just like that, your jaw goes slack and your juices squirt all over his palm, his pace not slowing one bit. Simon would finger you through your orgasm, and when you get down from your high, he'll take out his fingers and slap your pussy making you moan.

Simon brings his hands to his mouth and licks his fingers clean, maintaining eye contact while doing so. And in a moment of embarrassment you avert your gaze only for it to land on his crotch, an evident dark patch coating his bulge

"See what you do to me, luv? Without any touch." he chuckles sweetly and kisses your forehead

"If you ever want to squirt, just come to me. I'll take good care of you, o'right?"

[superhoeva]

tws: 18+/smut, fem!reader, strangers to lovers (?), drinking, tipsy sex, public sex, smoking (mentioned), blood (very quick mention, nothing serious), ruined wedding

driver!simon rescuing runaway bride!reader from the church where your wedding was supposed to take place. you’d left it all–your family, your phone, your responsibilities, your no-longer-husband-to-be–behind so you could sit in the back of simon’s cab and tell him all the reasons you ditched.

“he's just… he's boring. he likes to eat dinner the same time as our 74-year-old neighbor! he didn’t wanna go anywhere or do anything. he’d come home after all day at work, just to half-ignore me. doesn't believe in kissing for any longer than 0.7 seconds. and dear god–simon, is it? right?–the sex…”

simon lets you unleash it all as he circles in the streets, adding in his two cents here and there when you take a second to breathe.

“so a fuckin’ knob then, huh? too bad you got all pretty for’a bloke like that… y’sure he wasn’t the 74-year-old?”

that last one pulls a laugh from you that makes simon think about that pub on the other side of town.

half an hour later, there you are, in the pub. still in your gown and veil. simon’s arm wrapped tight around your side as the two of you squish against the wood of the bar.

surrounding you is a clamoring of happy drunks, who toast loudly to the assumed “marriage” between simon and yourself. for some reason, you don’t correct them. nor does simon, who instead holds you tight and shoves his tongue into your mouth after the tenth chant of kiss! from the rest of the pub.

you kiss him back, groaning at the touch that reaches to grip your chin. when you pull away, simon holds his breath at the tipsy grin on your face, a warm feeling running through his cock when you turn back to your glass and chug until the top of your lip is covered in foam from the second beer he bought you.

“alright?”

you bob a nod at simon’s question as he thumbs away the mess at your lip with dark eyes.

fourteen minutes later…

the pub bathroom is already small enough. feels even smaller with simon hanging over your shoulder and yanking you back by the hips. the fastening of your dress has been ripped well past your ass, buttons scattered under the sink you're holding onto for dear life. squeezing the sides of the porcelain every time simon pumps into you.

“f-fuck…” you whine, and simon digs himself deeper. “ah!-there-there…”

his cock is hitting deep. heavy. wet and stretching you out in a way the man you’d abandoned earlier. (what was his name again?) he even uses the veil still tucked in your hair to keep the view of your face nice and clear for him to stare at you in the mirror. the sight of you, groaning with running mascara, makes it easy for simon to imagine another world where you're his new, pretty wife.

mrs. riley. his missus.

“y’know… i’ll eat supper whenever y’want. kiss ya right. don’t quite like ignoring pretty things either,” he grunts in your ear, balls smacking loudly in between the slurred sentences. the wet peck he gives you under the side of your ear precedes a tragic pause of his thrusts. while you take the break to catch simon’s gaze in the glass before you, he pants with deep huffs.

god, you look a right mess. make up ruined. lips swollen. veil scrunched and the top of your dress tugged low enough for your nipples to show. simon looks over it all at the same time before peeling his front from your back so he can watching something else.

there’s a ring of cream at the base of his cock that’s still stuck halfway inside your pussy. your lips are spread wide, properly stuffed, and pulsate with a gentle rhythm.

“…you memorize your vows?”

you blink at the low question, trying not to squirm anymore than you already are. “uh. y-yeah? i think. why?–"

“go on, then,” simon directs, one of his arms wrapping around your front. with a tight tug, he stuffs himself the rest of the way, clenching his teeth at the way your voice cracks in the middle of a loud moan. scrunching his nose, he sniffs. then resumes fucking you.

slower.

harder.

like a proper husband should.

it takes you a while to sputter the first few words. simon is patient enough because the pay off is better than he imagined.

the recited promises are broken, but there. real-sounding enough just over the wet plaps that simon can flutter his eyes shut and pretend he’s the one you wrote them about. that you’ll always give yourself to him, to laugh everyday with him, to love him through it all.

the man proves himself easily, that much is obvious by how you end up squirting on his cock and down his dress; the way you sob his name and accidentally blubber out delirious i love you’s; how the three words you chant out like a prayer cause him to spill deep inside you as he makes sounds he’s never made for anyone else.

simon loves you back. feels like it, at least, when he comes with shaking legs and can’t think of anything worse than a future without you. he ends up sure of the fact when the first thing you utter, in a tired, hoarse voice, after finally finding your breath is–

“i meant to ask earlier… do you have a smoke?”

simon grins a bit, almost laughing. red stains on his teeth from how hard you made him bite his lip.

note: is this bad? pls don't let this be bad. anyways, runaway brides must be the new thing and i think @tojisteddy n i share the same brain :3

[str4wbrryrose]

You knew how to manage your POTS symptoms, you have since you were fourteen. Drink water, use compression socks, cane if necessary, repeat. It was a steady cycle that you used every single day—and it worked.

But today was just not your day.

You overslept, HORRIBLY. You winced when you practically tumbled out of bed. “Shit shit shit—“ You swore underneath your breath, pulling over new clothes and fighting back the overwhelming wave of dizziness. You got up way too fast. Black spots filled your vision.

You managed to somehow get on base at a decent time, maybe a few minutes after 9:00. Not bad.

You stumble towards your cubicle, sweat dripping down your forehead and huffing. A neat stack of papers met you.

This was going to be a long day.

“Hen! There y’ are!” Johnny’s boisterous voice suddenly filled the air, a large grin on his face. “Cap’ wanted meh to give these to y’,” He placed another stack of papers, more messy and less pristine than the other one.

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Soap.” Like you needed anymore work.

You’ve been overworking yourself, Simon could tell. He had been watching you from the doorway, eyes tracking your sluggish movements. God, you were so tired.

Today was not your day.

Your thoughts trailed off when the spots in your vision returned. Your head hung heavy as you made your way back to your desk, hand outstretched to your chair. “So close—“ You murmured absentmindedly. Your water was right there, and so were your snacks. Then all would be right in the world again.

You slumped forward just as calloused hands supported you from behind, eyes fluttering. “I gotcha, I gotcha,” Simon soothed, leading you down to the floor and leaning your sitting form against the desk. He straightened your legs out and tucked your jacket underneath them. “You’re alright, lovie, just breathe,”

“Ghost?” You mumbled, eyes cracking open. His hand ran through your matted hair. “Yeah, I’m here.” He answered gruffly. “Water please.” He held the bottle up to your lips and you drank slowly.

Your eyes met his and his softened. “You overworked yourself again.” He hums, lips pursed.

“I know. I could push through it, I knew I could, but I just went too far this time—”

“Shit excuse. You and I both know that’s not how it works.”

You let out a soft snort. “Damn. And here I thought I could get away with it.” You snapped your fingers, a slow and tired smile gracing your face.

“Little shit.” Simon shook his head. His eyes stay on yours before looking away. “Take better care of yourself, love. We only got one of you.”

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: transactional relationship, babytrapping

Sugar Daddy!Price who takes his role with reluctance.

Does he want a transactional relationship based on his money? No. But does he have time to date someone and realistically keep them on the hook in a real relationship? Also no.

He thinks of himself as a logical, compartmentalized man. He can make hard decisions. He can do what’s best for everyone, not just himself.

So why is his relationship with you so fucking difficult for him?

Maybe it’s because you follow his stringent, quite frankly pain-in-the-ass contract to a T. You’re infuriatingly professional in a relationship that’s so intimate…

John can feel a clock ticking. He feels this constant twitter pated second hand growing closer to piercing his heart as it throbs. These relationships aren’t for keeps. Catch like you? Certain to find a fine young man… one that won’t be alright with you draping yourself over an old man like a mink coat. One that can provide for you and give you real love. The kind Price has shut himself off from by thinking “logically”, pragmatically, in his approach to relationships. Seems like every man with a gun knows how to shoot himself in the foot.

Asking you for something real… that could send you running. Birds who look for this kind of relationship aren’t looking to get tied down, and have a healthy suspicion of men with resources. There’s no more destructive thing in the world, after all. He can attest to that first hand.

Replacing a foil seal isn’t so difficult. Simon could do it in his sleep, but Price is a little out of practice and short on time. Had to order the sugar pills special— make sure the size and shape were right. The job isn’t perfect, but perfectly acceptable-looking to someone who’s never had an attempt made on their life. Or their freedom.

The part that follows is as natural as breathing. Fucking you stupid, balls smacking wetly against you from your tempting fucking cunt leaking all over him. Buries himself deep as he groans, your hips in a bruising grip while the heat of his load pulses against your cervix.

Got himself tested recently and everything. He may not be a spring chicken, but his count and motility is still high. The drinking and smoking have done their damage to him certainly, but in virility he remains blessedly pristine. At least, when he has the right motivation placed in front of him.

The image of you, a bump beneath your dress, lounging in his bed during a lazy morning. No intention of getting up, redressing, of getting back to some other life that has nothing to do with him. A generously sized rock on your finger. That’s motivation enough for him.

[indiewritesxoxo]

frat!sukuna crashing out over gojo trying to steal his baby mama!

frat!sukuna wouldn't say he baby trapped you.

because apparently, the whole trap part didn't fucking work in the first place.

if it did, you wouldn't be letting rival frat president!gojo buy you groceries and grin at you like he couldn't wait to get in your panties. freak just wanted to try your fucking breast milk.

the white-haired idiot had no interest in changing diapers or pushing around strollers or burping a four-month old only to end up with a trail of spit down his shirt.

but noooooo, it seemed like you still thought he would make a better boyfriend than the actual father of your child.

sure, okay, it wasn't like the two of you had ever officially dated. but fucking in the bathroom at frat parties was and going out for breakfast together the morning after was kinda close? besides, you were supposed to come to him all doe-eyed and distraught with a pregnancy test in hand to let him lock you down for good and become future father of the year. not just retreat and run away - right into the arms of a waiting buffoon with nothing better to do than beg for your attention.

he'd been trying to step up. but someone wouldn't stop getting in the goddamn way.

sukuna knew you used to tutor him. he just hadn't known how borderline obsessed gojo was with you.

intercepting his calls, pretending to be you over text, trying to tell him the wrong times for appointments and pick ups, everything possible in his power to put himself firmly between the two of you. you didn't even believe him when he tried to tell you either.

rolling your eyes and swearing that satoru would never.

you were naive. a little awkward. the shy sort that got all agitated at the slightest bit of attention. sukuna liked the way you flushed just from a few words, how you refused to meet his stare unless you were laid bare beneath him, biting your lip or burying your face into his collarbone when he groaned your name.

so how the hell had a guy like satoru gojo sunk his claws into you right under his nose?

"he just wants to fuck you," sukuna gritted his teeth, trying not to actually growl when you slid into the booth across from him - all while mr. moron who snuck in walked over to the barista with your baby strapped to his chest.

"i think you're projecting," you muttered under your breath, arching up an eyebrow and swirling a straw around the drink sukuna already ordered you. your favorite.

"i never said i didn't," he sharply retorted, holding his chin up high like it wasn't eating him fucking alive seeing you act like a married couple with gojo when that was supposed to be him.

"come on, it's not like you're actually interested anymore," you murmured, shaking your head as you sighed at him.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he frowned, brows furrowed tight.

"you're surrounded by sorority girls most weekends," you shrugged, as if he wasn't trying to spend every night you'd let him at your place taking night shifts with his son. "and i just had a baby."

"did he fucking say something to you?" he snapped, squinting accusingly at gojo before swiveling his head back to you.

you were all flustered, your cute face scrunching as you scoffed and motioned for him to lower his voice, "it's common sense. we're not together. of course you're sleeping with other girls. it's fine, i-"

"no, no, i'm-" he protested, but you weren't finished, awkwardly mumbling that it wasn't like the two of you were ever something serious anyway.

"satoru asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday," you added, shoulders sheepishly bobbing up. "so, you know, if you decide to date around too, it's not gonna be weird or anything."

"did you say yes?" he gawked, grinding his molars as he debated on banging his own head against the wall of the cafe.

"well, not yet," you mumbled, tilting your head to the side. "but i'm-"

"you two talkin' about me?" your not-boyfriend chuckled, grinning as he returned with a bag filled with muffins and croissants and whatever else filled with sugar he could find on the menu.

you opened your mouth to speak, but then you abruptly glanced down at your chest, mouth pressing together as you sighed and slipped out of the booth, holding your arm's out to take your baby back. his baby back. "i think i'm about to start leaking. i'm gonna go feed her out in the car."

sukuna almost said that no one would give a shit if you fed him in here. but he knew you better. knew you'd never be comfortable with that - so he bit his tongue, not exactly pleased at the prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting here with gojo waiting for you to come back.

"her tits look fuckin' great, don't they?" satoru chirped the second you slipped out the door, loudly opening the bag and popping the first thing he pulled out into his mouth.

"shut the fuck up," sukuna snapped at him, scowling as he resisted the urge to strangle him.

the asshole was just trying to ragebait him.

and it was unfortunately working a little too well.

"can i ask you something?" gojo grinned, crumbs falling to the table as he spoke with a full mouth.

"no," sukuna automatically replied.

"what would you do if i gave your son a sibling?"

[rawme-price]

Ghost who's infatuated with you meanwhile you genuinely think he's trying to kill you.

Ghost who corners you against a wall, the width of him caging you in, arm above your head. He looks a bit crazed, a bit too animal and a bit too blood hungry when he grunts "i saw a deer on the side of the road, once."

"Legs twisted up in a bloody mess, gravel red underneath. It kept on twitchin', starin' at me." He leans in close, breath hot on your ear. You can feel the body heat radiating off of him when ghosts hand hovers over your bicep, "i killed it. Didn't have a gun, had to use my knife. Quick. Merciful."

Ghost leans back far enough to stare you in the eyes.

"You remind me of that deer," ghosts hand retreats, but he stays caging you in. "Staring at me all the time. Beggin' for that knife."

Now, whenever ghost talks about you, he calls you "sweet doe" and people snicker about his sweet little crush. It makes your stomach churn.

[llliissyyy]

F1Driver!Simon never talking in interviews except for short answers like "yes" and "no".

F1Driver!Simon never talking about anything private with anyone so no one on grid knows about you.

F1Driver!Simon who won his first race he ever drove in formula 1 and has been known as the devil on track ever since.

F1Driver!Simon also has the name of ungrateful winner because he never celebrates not even drinking champagne.

F1Driver!Simon being one of the favourites for the media because he seems so mysterious and the crowd loves him for it.

F1Driver!Simon winning his first championship in his second year but he only wants to see you.

F1Driver!Simon trying to get to you, pushing through the crowds to get to you. Cameras and micros pushing into Simon while reporters try to talk to him.

F1Driver!Simon gets to you and picks you up to kiss you in front of everyone. Flashes explode around you while Simon leans his forehead against yours.

F1Driver!Simon falling to his knees and asking you to marry him.

[sweetsprice]

ghost has always been protective of you, but now that you're carrying his child, it's getting out of control.

the grocery store was too crowded, too loud for ghost's liking, with kids running around unsupervised. simon's jaw tightened as a teenager rushed past you, almost making you lose your balance. his arm shot out instinctively, pulling you flush against his side.

"watch it!" he growled, his voice dangerously low, and the kid scurried off without glancing back.

you sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "si', i'm fine. they're just kids, you can't get mad at them."

"you're six months pregnant," he said, as a matter of fact. his hand found the small of your back, warm and steady, guiding you down the aisle at an extremely slow pace. "and this place is a madhouse. unbelievable."

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

"simon." you called him sweetly. "it's tuesday. 10 am. there are four other people in this store."

"too many," he mumbled, leading you toward the fruits section with a hand firm on your lower back. he was scanning aisles, cataloging exits, evaluating threats.

an elderly woman reached for a box of apples near you and simon physically shifted to place himself between her and your belly.

the woman was puzzled.

his eyes softened as they dropped to your stomach.

"you're doing it again," you mumbled, fighting a smile.

"doing what, sweetheart?" he planted a kiss on top of your head.

"being overprotective." you exclaimed, intertwining your fingers with his.

simon grunted, moving you toward the checkout. "that's my job."

at the register, a woman cooed at your bump, reaching out without asking. simon caught her wrist mid-air, his eyes glinting with warning.

"for fuck sake. these people are mad." he cursed at the poor woman.

the woman took a step back, embarrassed, and you shot simon a reassuring look.

outside, he insisted on carrying every single bag, all six of them, plus the heavy watermelon you'd asked him to buy. you attempted to carry the small bag of cupcakes but simon gave you a firm no.

your mouth salivated at the sight of the chocolate flavored cupcake that simon handed to you.

his car was immaculate, not a crumb of cookie on his leather seats, no coffee stains. he'd once made soap walk ten miles for dirtying the passenger seat with orange juice.

but you? oh you could do whatever you pleased.

"unbelievable." he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

you took another bite, moaning dramatically. you closed your eyes, savoring it, completely oblivious to the way simon was watching you.

"you've got..." he gestured vaguely at his own face.

"hm?" you blinked, frosting on your nose and your left cheek.

he simply reached over, his thumb catching the smear on your chin. his eyes darkened, thumb hovering near your lips, then slowly, brought it to his own mouth, tasting the buttercream.

"si," you warned, recognizing that look.

"i'm not doing anything, love" he said, voice dropping low. "just cleaning you up."

little did you know, the ever cold menacing lieutenant simon riley got a boner just by looking at his sweet wife lick some frosting off a cupcake.

[kumori-suwan]

The Hunt (Preview) (NSFW)

Pairing: Alpha! Sukuna Ryomen x Omega! Fem! Reader

Sukuna doesn’t remember every broken heart he’s caused, he was a selfish man who only cared about status and power. An Alpha amongst the common humans, but if there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was being played by someone he left in the ash of his wake. He’s the president of Jujutsu University’s Top Sorority, he’s supposed to be drinking and partying to his heart’s content not standing there like a fool. He should’ve ignored his stupid senses, he shouldn’t turned his nose away and just buried himself into the closest person he could find, not be here! The beautiful moans and the intoxicating scent of an Omega he’d hurt ages ago drew him here, ruby eyes blown wide with shock watching the raunchy scene before. Your trembling hips pushing back desperately against the knot of one of his fraternity brothers. Toji growls against your ear using his huge body to pin you to the mattress as he filled your warm cunt with ropes of sticky white cum. Toji seems to take notice of Sukuna and offers him a disgusting smirk, “Close the door, I’m busy here.”, he chuckled darkly.

Sukuna’s not sure why he listened, his body moved on autopilot to close the door, he stared at the door as if it wronged him and felt the veins bulging over his neck and forehead. “No way…there’s no way she would’ve taken on anyone else. I’m her mate, her fated Alpha. I’m gonna make her pay for this.”, he growled to himself.

Despite the music blaring downstairs Sukuna’s ears caught the sound of something he’d almost forgotten, your purr. Just on the other side of the door you were purring to Toji and it made Sukuna sick to his core. You wouldn’t get away with this, no way he’d let you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Not dead y’all, just severely unmotivated and struggling with mental health but hopefully you all like this story line I thought up.

[devil-in-hiding]

it’s 1:30 but my son just fucked up his tv, I have .67 cents on my account and I’m struggling in a fucking ranch house. I’ve been trying to be good while I’m on my own in a place where no one gives a fuck about me And my son combined but he his is his only tv allowed and I’m fucking stuck. It wouldn’t be till morning that it arrives nor groceries but I’m fucking desperate.if anyone could help it would mean the world to me bc I’m down to one area in the room that I’m allowed and now that’s threatened to be taken away from me.

I need help and I’m fucking desperate.

Go to paypal.me/taylorh0617 and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.

[bfbkg]

FOUND IN TRANSLATION (2.6K)

— bakugou katsuki x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: you ask your boyfriend what language he thinks in. NOTES: suggestive, 18+, you speak english, established relationship, cosy n sleepy. probably needs another proofread aha

your bedroom is toasty, with remnants of your citrus honey perfume you sprayed on before you rushed to work in the morning and lingers of your boyfriend’s infamous smoky sweet smell from where he undressed moments ago to lay beside you.

under the covers beside bakugou katsuki, you couldn’t imagine anywhere safer. you both purposely decided to go to bed early (early for you, not for him) just so you had enough time to make out like teenagers.

you’re in your pyjamas, a lilac soft camisole and old granny striped panties from years ago. they’ve slightly lost their elasticity, a little out of shape but that’s the reason you love them so. also they always manage to get a hearty laugh from katsuki despite their lack of sex appeal. they don’t bother him, he’ll still tug them off with his teeth.

you’ve got your pale pink silk bonnet on, tied to a bow around your head. you’ve tried getting bakugou to wear one, protecting his blonde locks but you’re lost on getting it to stay during the night. it ends up by his feet on the bed, the floor, his face, one time your face. you’ve given up, buying him a silk pillowcase for when he stays over.

the silk is cold on your cheek as you share a pillow on your double bed. nose to nose, body to body.

katsuki is way too big for your bed, the width of his shoulder covers half of your side and it’s something you should complain about… though you can’t when all that toned raw muscle cuddles you to his chest.

it’s quiet in your room, aside from the smacking of your lips, katsuki’s low grumbles that rumble from the pit of his stomach. then when he bites on your bottom lip, it’s a little whine that accidentally flutters out.

it’s a few seconds of staring at your sleepy lover in the dark while your lips are apart, breathless. your hand cups his cheeks and bakugou tugs you closer to him by your hip. you know he’s aroused, he struggles to hide it on a good day but in your bed with his guard down, he finds no reason to.

he squeezes your waist harshly, pushing out a shaky exhale from you like a squeaky toy.

“you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, guttural like the truth is pulled out from him without his permission. being alone with you does this to him. has him struggling to lie and not say what’s on his mind. katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.

his skin is shiny from the expensive moisturiser you recommended, making him appear like a baby that just got doused in vaseline. luscious. healthy and stunning with his plucked eyebrows and scar right under his cheekbone.

“no, you are,” you reply, shutting him up by giving him another kiss.

it’s a leisurely kiss. you feel his jaw widen as he tilts his head over yours. your tongues tangle for fun, as if you’re playing a pointless game where you’re both going to win. bakugou manages to suck on yours and without meaning to another whine slips from you.

the only thing on your mind is bakugou katsuki.

you pull away from him, a quick peck on his lip before blinking at him.

“what?” katsuki breathes, tapping your ass cheek twice before resting back on your waist. then he decides to sneak his hand under your cami, his hand cosy under the fabric.

“what language do you think in?” you ask, running the pad of your thumb over his cheek scar. 

“why’re you thinkin’ about that?” he rubs his top lip on his septum then he grabs your hand off his face to kiss your thumb. he’s always transferring your love back to you.

you hum inconspicuously, “i’m thinking about you.”

“japanese, baby. then i translate in my head to talk to you.”

katsuki wants to go back to feeling his lips over yours, tasting every inch of you. but now he’s studying the sleepy sadness in your eyes, how you jut out your bottom lip like you’ve just been wronged.

you’re not wearing anything under your camisole so he’s able to run his thumb on the underside of your breasts. 

“what’s wrong with that?” he asks, trying to figure you out.

bakugou katsuki finds that having a girlfriend often means having to learn another new language. that when you tuck yourself away from him after an argument in the car, it means you want him to talk and not that you need space. that when you want to get dessert, he has to also say yes. you can’t get dessert alone, even if he doesn’t want any. 

you huff softly, running your hand down his bare stone carved chest to the rim of his cotton shorts.

“it sounds like a lot of work you have to do mentally to be with me. i want it to be easy.”

bakugou frowns. you’re disappointed, fucking heartbroken by the looks of it. he wants to laugh, how silly you can get when your unfiltered thoughts come out. you wouldn’t admit something like this during the day, you’d probably make a joke that he should be working his brain to keep up with you.

but you’re softened and closer to the dreamworld than you are on the bed with him.

“it’s not like that, princess. i don’t gotta think twice,” he half shrugs, “it’s not a conscious thing anymore. i just think and out my mouth is english. nothin’ deep.” 

you’re not having it, sighing to yourself, “i’m gonna get really good at japanese for you. i’m not bad at it.”

“your pronunciation is amazin’,” he smiles at you, ducking forward to kiss your lips.

“thanks,” you mumble, opting to feel him up instead.

your hand smooths up his chunky bicep, then down the deep chisels of his back. bakugou thinks you’ve moved on, that he can go back to smushing his face against your pretty one when you speak again.

“there’s a whole world in your head i don’t know about.”

you look at his necklace when you speak, an old gold chain of yours that you gave to him. it was too thick on you and it suits him perfectly. you tug on it, feeling each ridge between your fingers.

“hm?” he pushes you to explain.

“words that can’t translate. the dreams you must have. you know how you can read translated poetry and the notes about the poem are longer than the poem itself? that’s your head and i’m outside of it.” you whisper, holding onto his chain while you kiss him like you feel lonely. though he’s right there.

but bakugou doesn’t pout back. you’ve got him thinking.

“you should be an outsider when i’m with you and your friends or you and your family. i think i know english and then you’re saying words and phrases that i can’t understand. all sounds like gibberish to me.”

“that’s like made up words and slang. you’re still fluent. it’s not the same,” you poke back.

bakugou chuckles, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. he pulls your hand to rest on the centre of his chest and he places his hand over yours. you feel the gentle patter of his heartbeat, it soothes you.

“‘m not fuckin’ fluent.”

you nudge closer to him, unable to not be all over him for a second. you sling your leg over his waist, hugging him to you and running your nose along his ear.

“yes you are. you know everything.” 

“you don’t know what it’s like to argue with you.”

that makes you pause which makes bakugou turn back on his side to look at you.

you purse your lips then relax, “what do you mean?”

“when you’re mad at me, you speak fast as hell, usually cussing me with words i’ve never thought to put together and you’re so quick with it. so fuckin’ quick.” 

you’re unsure how being quick is different to speaking fast.

bakugou can tell you’re still confused. “my brain just can’t keep up. like i’m still translatin’ the last sentence and now you’re tellin’ me to go fuck myself ‘cause i’m a shit piece.”

you giggle at that. piece of shit, he knows.

“i think you’re making excuses because i’m always right,” you play.

bakugou shrugs, “maybe baby. but it’s so fuckin’ hard. i know what i wanna say when we argue but then you’re already on to the next point and i haven’t answered the first and then ‘cause i’m not talkin’ ‘cause im tryin’ to think, you think i don’t care.”

it’s easier to talk about arguing when you’re not arguing. 

“oh kats. that makes me sad. i’ll be more patient—,”

“no, no. i wanna be able to handle it.” he squeezes your hand.

“it’s not something to handle. i see when you argue with kiri and deku. you’re quick then, even though i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

bakugou grins, “i do like when you call me a fuckin’ dickhead.” he mimics your accent, his own chesty chuckle falling out when you put your hand on his face and grimace loudly.

he kisses the centre of your palm and the tickle causes you to pull away.

“i’ll be better for you,” you whisper and bakugou shakes his head.

“no, i will.” you finalise. 

bakugou sighs softly, knowing your mind won’t change.

you chew the inside of your cheek, a sign you’re dying to speak.

“go on then, baby.” he smiles.

“english isn’t even a romantic language. nothing sounds pretty, if anything it’s a pretty evil language—,”

bakugou stuffs his head into your neck, pushing you back into the bed softly. he begins nibbling on a soft spot before resting his lips on top in a wet kiss. he rubs over your lower back in slow circles.

“too much thinkin’, baby,” he works on your neck, loving how you mould your body into his, “it’s romantic ‘cause i’m talkin’ to you. your birthday cards, even your texts to me sound like poetry.”

you grunt to yourself. you are a good writer.

“you speak english at work. it’s not always romantic for you.”

bakugou rests on his forearm, hovering over you. “i can speak any language i want at work and people will find a way to listen.” 

there’s the humility you love in your boyfriend. 

“but i love talkin’ and understandin’ you. your big ass world in there,” he taps your temple with the tip of your finger, “the only benefit to knowin’ this language is i get to know you.”

you awe before you can help it and bakugou hangs his head in a blush. he manhandles your body with a single hand, pulling you closer under his arm.

“maybe english is romantic.” you hum, “and don’t lie to me. you need english for me and to watch those american superhero movies without subtitles.”

bakugou looks up at you grinning, nudging his nose into your cheek, “not true. the japanese dub is sick. rather listen to it in japanese.”

you can’t push your smile off, “so just me?”

he nods like a lovesick fool, droopy sleepy eyes and a wandering hand. “just you, princess.”

with your mind settled and tonight’s questions answered, you and bakugou go back to learning each other's language.

this time bakugou lets you sink your tongue into his mouth. wet kiss after wet kiss, your nails satisfyingly scratching through his hair and scalp.

bakugou moans into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your body. “i love you.”

“i love you and thank you for letting me win all the arguments. you need to level up before you can fight me,” you giggle against his lips.

bakugou rolls his eyes, he’s got you back, bubbly and tender in his arms.

“yeah, yeah, princess,” he grins at you, looking over your body. he brushes his hand over your clothed groin, your fluffy pubic hair all tucked under your high waisted panties. “d’you wanna take these off for me? wanna hear you moan for me.”

you look like he just offered to eat you out. shiny eyes, pawing down his chest, finger already hooking in your underwear. 

“head, please,” you say politely, the sweet back and forth that gets you internally giggling at yourself and bakugou always rolling his eyes.

“that’s a word i learnt from you. head. through context clues and all. didn’t learn that at school in japan.” he shakes his head, helping you yank off your underwear. he tucks the fabric under his pillow to find it easily later.

“what would you call it? cunnilingus?” you look at your boyfriend, shirtless and sexy, hike your legs over his shoulders as he ducks down to lay on his stomach between your legs.

“the fuck is that?” he blurts, forcing his eyes from your glistening pussy to your pretty face, hitched up from your pillow.

“the proper word for eating pussy.” you say.

bakugou blinks at you, “repeat it f’me.”

“cunnilingus.”

bakugou repeats it after you as if he’s tasting every syllable on his tongue. though since he’s so close to you, your hips inch up in his face without meaning to.

he ignores you for the time being, “i don’t like that word.”

“w-what would you say?” you ask, licking your bottom lip. despite the rising heat over your body, you’re still curious.

“eating pussy.” he smirks like an idiotic boy that just said a bad word. he spreads your thighs apart, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh.

“oh. duh,” you laugh flustered, thoughts all on a one track road. he’s so gorgeous. sexy. you wanna drag him up to kiss him, you also wanna be touched. “can you? eat my pussy?”

bakugou says something to you, full japanese with beaming cheeks. his lips curl around every syllable, fluent and unfamiliar to you yet home on katsuki’s tongue. his smile doesn’t let up, he punctuates his comment by kissing your thigh.

“what?” you whimper, breathless just from his mouth close to your centre.

“said you’re a brat.” he translates, spreading you open with his thumbs. damn. he might have to fuck you after.

“yours, though.”

he agrees, looking straight at your wet folds just from a little kissing. he ensures that he says his next words directly to you so there’s no mistranslation, “mine. and i’m yours.”

comments n tags appreciated! part two comments will be deleted.

[rawme-price]

Thing about ghost is he's the biggest gossip, but no one knows.

He has no interest in bonding with anyone on base, so he mostly keeps to himself. That, paired with the fact he's naturally stealthy, means people don't pay attention to him before spilling their secrets all over the floor.

Ghost has been witness to many phonecalls, arguments, shared rumors. He keeps every bit og information tucked into his front pocket.

Until he meets you, price's kid. In some bar you doesn't frequent, dragged out for your father's bi-yearly socialization so he can still convince himself he's a good dad.

A good dad who is currently on the other side of the bar from you, chatting up some woman who could be your older sister. You sneer at the display, lean closer to ghost to whisper "you know he's been divorced five times?"

To your shock, ghost happily adds "you know two of those were secretaries he met on base? One of them 'cause he got her pregnant."

"No!" You gasp, turn fully to ghost almost too gleefully. No one ever wants to shit-talk your dad. "Seriously? Is that the one who tried to kill him?"

"Mhmmm," ghost nods along. He takes one of the greasy chips from your plate but you don't mind because he points to garrick whom you've met twice before "last one caught him an' garrick snoggin in her own bed."

"Seriously!?" You whisper-shout, too damn happy.

You, the kid who stubbornly says no more than a single word when talking to any of prices friends, can't seem to shut up that night. You and ghost bond for hours exchanging gossip and bitching about others. He learns all about your professors and you learn about government secrets only to gossip about the people involved.

Your dad ends up taking that pretty lady home and forgetting about you, so you and ghost go back to his place to watch movies and pass out.

He's the closest thing you've had to a friend in years, which would be pathetic if it weren't for how nice it feels.

[bfbkg]

PROS AND CONS : BKG (2.3k)

bakugou finds a list you made before you dated him

“one. big cock and knows how to use it. two and it’s in all caps. EATER.”

you rest on your forearms on your sofa, looking across the living room to your boyfriend who has appeared from your bedroom. he’s reading a crumpled sheet of paper from god knows where with a massive grin on his face.

“did you get the fan from my room? katsuki, it’s hot!” you whine petulantly. you've got your thin shorts and bralette on, trying to fight the heatwave that has taken over your city.

the heat has beat you down, left you stranded in your living room with three ice lolly packets in your path and skin sticky. you can feel the sweat trickle down your spine, you can see it gathered on katsuki’s exposed forehead, yet he still stands there reading.

“hold on, i’m lovin’ this,” he says, gold tooth shining as his mouth stretches wider, “three. rich and generous with it. is that right? you with me for my cock and money?”

you blink at him a few times, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless bare chest or the black headband he’s got on to push his unruly blonde locks back. he’s handsome, deliciously so. still, you think back to why everything he’s saying is so familiar.

“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”

you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“what is that? what are you reading?”

still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”

then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”

you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.

“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.

nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.

“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”

he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”

“you’re not now! give it back!”

“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”

“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.

bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it. 

“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”

if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—

he stops pouting at you.

“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”

“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.” 

you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.

he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.

“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.

“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”

“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”

“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”

“it’s so much better now!”

bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”

“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”

“three. his job is terrifying.”

bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.

“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”

“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”

“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”

“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”

bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”

“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend. 

“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”

“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”

“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.

“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”

“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t. 

you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”

he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”

“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”

“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”

bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.

then he looks down at you, looking up at him.

“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”

bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.

“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms. 

bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”

you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”

“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.

“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.

he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.

“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”

you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”

he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”

you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”

bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”

“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.

“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck. 

“look at me.”

shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you. 

“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”

you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.

“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”

he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.

“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.

you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”

“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.

“promise. now you promise me.”

“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”

“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”

bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”

you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”

he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”

“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”

bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”

“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”

with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.

he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”

you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”

he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”

“i love you too… and no snooping!”

[bfbkg]

luna…

need cuddlefucking with bakugou por favor :(

-mars(aplanet)

SOFA SURFING (4.1k)

— bakugou katsuki x f!reader

synopsis: you and your boyfriend have to sleep on his family sofa because his mother turned his childhood bedroom into an arts and crafts room.

what's coming up: fluff, smut (p in v, fingering (f) unprotected), having to be quiet, loads of pet names, established relationship, bkg's parents here!, set in japan, italics for japanese luna says: this was written when i was taking requests. i am not now. thank u @marsaplanet !!! probs needs another proofread. thank u aali for title hehe

“i fucking hate this,” you boyfriend says squished beside you, forced to be a big spoon on his parent’s tiny very public living room sofa. it’s only tiny because you’re sharing it with him.

it takes you longer than necessary to twist around with the small space you’re allowed. in order to accommodate bakugou’s big body that can barely manage a single bed, you’re left to only be able to lay on your sides. though once you manage, you give katsuki a pout in the dark and his chin a peck.

“i’m sorry your mum changed your bedroom into an arts and crafts room,” then you look away from him, which is quite hard considering you’re face to face, nose to nose, “it is such a nice room though. i’d love one of those.”

since bakugou became pro, he moved out of his parent’s home at the humble age of eighteen years old and never returned permanently. for the first few years, his parents kept his bedroom how it is, ready for him to visit when he wanted a traditional home cooked dinner instead of the unhealthy western food or just a break from the intense world of heroics. 

but this visit, without warning, his mother has changed his sweet all-might and manga filled bedroom into a well prepared arts and crafts room. fashion drawings up on the walls, sewing machines that cost more than your computer, rolls and rolls of fabrics and so much more. 

if bakugou didn’t plan to help his father out early tomorrow morning with his fishing gear, he would have booked a nearby hotel instead of attempting to stay over on the living room sofa with you.

he does love being this close to you though. having you tangled in his arms, your leg slung over his waist and your breasts pressed to his chest. you’re in a permanent cuddle unless you want to fall off the sofa or be crushed by your boyfriend during the night.

“no, i don’t care about my bedroom. i’d rather sleep in a goddamn bed,” he complains until you shush him.

“too loud, kats. your parents are sleeping.”

bakugou rolls his eyes but he does get noticeably quieter. he tightens his grip on you and his words tickle your ear, “shoulda got a hotel nearby. we haven’t… damn.”

he trails off, blinking slowly at you.

you know exactly what he means. you curl a wheat blonde lock around your finger and pull slightly. bakugou releases a low whine that vibrates into your body.

“i know, but we’ll be home tomorrow,” you sympathise. you get it. you really do. “you can have me all to yourself then.”

you shift your lower body to get comfortable, you swear it’s only because your leg is going dead laying on your side for so long. you twist into bakugou, your crotch bumping right over his. just at the feeling of him, hard and thick against your soft thigh, you eat your words. you don’t want tomorrow, you want him now.

bakugou had been on a two week long mission across the world, solving crime and fighting villains. he’s barely been able to call you during the weeks. a few texts littered in and definitely no photos due to the top secret nature of the mission. only to then arrive in your home country to meet you at the airport to fly to japan to meet his parents. it was the only time he could fit them in on his busy schedule and in an attempt to spend as much time with you as possible, you came along also.

which leads you about to hump your boyfriend like a teenager in his family living room. you were surrounded by family photos and cute baby photos. even a drawing he made of all-might when he was seven next to a photo of him with all-might at seventeen. you even see the baby photos his mother has already text to you, she knows to send every one she finds for your collection. 

but face to face with the grown katsuki, large hand spread over your lower back to press your hips into his. you can practically taste his breath, minty toothpaste that freshens your nose also. even in the dark you can see the lovesick way he stares at you, a sad pitiful gaze on your lips then your eyes. it even makes you laugh because despite how hot you are, trapped in his sleepy cuddle, you refuse to wear your usual pyjamas in his living room. your usual little boy shorts and a tank top for bed time. big tshirt and underwear. you’re in a long sleeve plaid set, just in case anyone wakes up for a glass of water in the night. 

bakugou can work around all the fabric. placing his hand on your bare back. pinging your elastic waistband against your hip. he doesn’t give a fuck, still counting this as his home despite the lack of bedroom. he’s shirtless, just a pair of shorts on.

“i haven’t seen you in weeks, doesn’t even feel like i had you today and the only alone time we get is on my fuckin’ sofa,” he huffs, stuffing his big head in the crook of your neck. bakugou inhales harshly, nose brushing against your silk bonnet, chest pressed right into yours.

you’re already whining, gripping on a semblance of control. “tomorrow, kats. tomorrow.”

you feel his stubble against your cheek, prickly but makes him look so fine. a few years older, a little rougher. bakugou pulls out your neck at your tone. he can predict you from a mile away.

“y’need me, baby? i haven’t been takin’ care of you, have i?”

always the first to read the room, always the first to read you. sugar sweet words from him have you falling apart like a dandelion, using your hooked leg around his waist to hump your hips against his cock.

it has been weeks. you’re used to being dicked down at least four times a week by him with multiple rounds but now, nothing. you could drool at the memory of being filled to the brim, your knees by your ears as he thrusts as an alternate way to show his love. honestly, you’d love to be pounded by him right now, pressed into a mattress with your beautiful man above you.

“b-but we can’t. your parents are across the hall. i’m not waking them. a-nd all your baby photos are out, this is your living room,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip. you can feel your clit pulse, a hot tightness that gets you moving without meaning to, “we don’t have space either a-and you’re loud.”

bakugou narrows his eyes, pursing his lips, “you’re louder than me.”

“kats,” you warn, “remember in april, for your birthday?”

“that’s ‘cause you fuckin’ touched my—,”

you peck his lips to shut him up but it only draws out the palpable need between you both. your hand flies to his cheek as he pulls you back in. he rests on his forearm slightly to get the best angle on your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

your kisses are louder than the words you just spoke. 

everything happens all at once with a rush you didn’t know you both felt. on the same equilibrium, you clutch a tuft of bakugou’s blonde locks to keep his open mouth, his tongue licking after yours. but every time he tries, you smile or grin or touch his tongue for a second before pulling back.

“stop playin’ with me, baby,” he whines against your lips, “gimme a taste.”

it’s always done something to you, your boyfriend just yesterday was shouting at his sidekicks and team in a foreign country, strategising a plan and being the voice everybody listens to. to now, him listening to you, begging you to give him more.

you don’t need to speak, you just slot your mouth over his in a wet kiss that is all tongue. you lick yours over his, circle it with the tip before letting him suck completely.

your moans bubble up, your thigh tenses around his waist and bakugou’s hand under your shirt is hot. 

“you’re gonna have to fuck me, kats. i can’t sleep like this,” you whisper, laying kisses across his jaw as he catches his heaving breaths. 

you lick over his earlobe, complete with a nibble to make him fall apart. “fuck. i know, i know. turn around f’me.”

you pout, “why? i wanna see your face.”

he grins, he’s exactly the same, “just for now. it’ll be easier for me. i’ll still be here.”

you huff dramatically, awkwardly shifting around so your back is to his chest. you lock eyes with three year old katsuki in the cutest red dungarees you’ve ever seen. though the actual katsuki behind you already has his massive hand under your shirt and on your stomach, fingers passing your elasticated waistband.

your hand flies to his, “not in front of your baby photos. look how cute you were.”

bakugou scoffs behind you, instead opting to unbutton your pyjama shirt, “the fuck? were? i still am.”

you look back, letting him reveal your breasts. you shove down the blanket to your knees. “you hate me calling you cute?”

bakugou kisses your neck then presses his cock into your ass without meaning to, “i’m still the cutest man you know.”

“you’re so stupid,” you giggle softly, eyes fluttering shut as his hands finally sneak past your waistband, over your tuft of hair and onto your soft clit. “oh shit.”

bakugou knows you better than he knows himself. he knew you wouldn’t be wearing underwear, he knew you’d already be wet and he knew you’d give in.

with two flat pads of his fingers, katsuki rubs firm clockwise circles into you, letting you shove and kick your pyjama bottoms to the ground. he lets you adjust to him, opening your legs wider and resting your leg on his hip behind you. 

you moan open mouthed, head falling back onto his bicep as he lifts himself upon his elbow.

“quiet, baby. feels good, though?” he asks, completely captivated by you.

it looks like you’re from a sexy christmas calendar despite it being mid july. your red and green plaid pyjama shirt is completely unbuttoned, naked body stretched around his and rolling your hips into his hand. 

“so good. so good, gorgeous,” you mumble, running your hand over his thick arm between your legs. you kiss his bicep by your cheek, “missed this with you. being—,” you inhale sharply, then soften into a whine, “being this close to you.”

“i know, baby. i get it. didn’t see your pretty face for two weeks. was going insane, staring at photos of you. fisted my cock over them one night,” he grunts into your ear and he feels your breathing hitch, your head roll back to look at him already looking down at you.

“kats, oh god,” you mewl as the sounds between your legs get louder, squelching and wet. “w-which picture, baby?”

katsuki stops the circles on your clit, instead choosing to sink his two fingers inside of you. you reach your hand behind you, fingers crawling into his hair and gripping. it only riles him up, a deep growl into your neck.

“those mirror selfies you sent before i left. on your bed, ass up in those tiny ass yellow panties you’ve got. and that one i took of you in my bed half naked in my old tee, so fuckin’ sexy baby.”

he curls his fingers inside, rubbing at your wet ribbed walls over and over again, pressing against your softest spots.

“oh fuck. oh fuck, kats,” you chant, your hips jolting without thought, your lower half burning up with the influx of pleasure, “right there. please.”

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” your boyfriend coos. he feels your stomach tense on his arm and he knows exactly what that means, “come for me, all over my hand. c’mon, darlin’.”

sliding your hand between your thighs, you only rub your clit a few times as bakugou keeps up pistoning inside you. despite your brewing orgasm, you’re only excited about being completely and utterly full by him afterwards.

you let your orgasm wash over you with ease. clenching your eyes shut as you’re mindful to keep quiet. honey and delight ripples over your body, a warming heat spreading under your skin starting right at your core.

“kats… kats… fuck,” you mumble and when you’re about to do one of your typical high pitched screams, bakugou smushes his face over yours to swallow them. he’s feels your vocal chords vibrate in the kiss and only when he’s sure you’re going to be quiet, he pulls off you.

you stop touching at your clit and bakugou slowly pulls his fingers out of you to stuff in his mouth.

you’re panting heavy, eyes closed and laying back on him with all your weight. still, you manage to laugh “you’re so… you really missed me?”

with your heaving chest, you look back at katsuki, shirtless in the dark with his tongue between his two fingers. “a fuckin’ stupid amount.”

you eye his tattoo of your name on his collarbone, then your eyes on his inner bicep amongst his tattoo sleeve. katsuki hasn’t seen his parents in months, you only a few weeks ago yet he still flew you across the world to spend time with him. it all hits you differently now, his love spreading through you at a rate you can’t measure.

“i love you. thanks for bringing me here.”

bakugou smirks, pecking your forehead, “one orgasm and you’re getting sappy on me?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, “katsuki. say it back now.”

“‘course i goddamn love you.” he hums, watching as you twist around to face him again.

you’re back to being nose to nose with your lover, bare chest against bare chest. “your koibito.”

this is your second visit to japan with katsuki meeting his parents. you’ve heard him speak japanese over the phone and chatting with his friends. he’s taught you a few words and sentences, often helpful when he’s watching his japanese dramas with the english subtitles on for you.

but one word his father taught you was koibito. it was the first thing he said when you stepped out of the taxi with the same smile as your boyfriend and his arms out to embrace you.

“you brought your koibito!” katsuki’s father says to him, in a mix of both languages so you understand also. his arms wrap around you in greeting.

you don’t miss bakugou’s blush but you do miss when he says something very fast to his father in japanese.

“what’s koibito?” you ask, as his father brings your suitcase inside and you watch katsuki take his out the car boot.

he’s still flushed, cute red cheeks as he glances up at you. “lover. like my partner. my person.”

“oh!” you say, “why didn’t he just say girlfriend?”

you know the word for girlfriend.

bakugou sighs under his breath, placing his suitcase on the floor, “i think ‘cause it’s my second time bringing you ‘round. koibito is more serious, a committed relationship.”

you grin, hugging his arm, “i’m your koibito!”

bakugou says the same thing he said then but more solemnly. with a soft nod, “you are and i’m yours.”

you can’t help but pout at him, lifting your face to press your lips into his. it’s starts off slow, controlled but all too soon, bakugou is shoving his shorts below his ass and you’re wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“gonna love you properly when we—,”

“shh, it’s okay. just want you now,” you speak into his mouth, obsessed with how quickly he begins panting. you flick your wrist over him a few times. he’s already as big as he can get, stiff and curved, slapped against his lower stomach.

“put me in, baby,” katsuki drawls, his lips over your cheek.

again, you cock your leg over his hip. you just need to lift up a little, press his cockhead between your legs and let him do the rest but—

“we need to use a condom. can’t make a mess on the sofa, kats,” you whine.

half lidded eyes look back at you. you can tell he’s strategising, adding up ratios to likelihoods and where the hell his wallet is and if he even stocked it with condoms.

you feel him pulse, hot and heavy in your hand.

“no clue where they are, baby. we can put the blanket under us and i’ll wash it in the mornin’. yeah?” he brushes his nose over yours.

honestly, bakugou could have said anything and you would have said sure.

after a rushed shuffle of stuffing the blanket underneath your hips, you fist bakugou’s tip and press him against your opening.

“move kats,” you whisper and in one push, bakugou slides into you utterly and completely.

in unison, a moan ripples out of you both, one of pure relief. even though you’re across the world from yours, slotted like a final puzzle piece with your lover feels like home. 

you slide a hand under bakugou’s cheek between the pillow and wrap your other arm around his back in a cuddle. bakugou’s the same, with a hand spread over your lower back and his other arm under your side to keep you close.

“you are so perfect,” bakugou whispers to you, pressing a kiss to your lips. you’re warm and slippery, an easy glide from your orgasm before. he almost doesn’t want to move, wanting you to cockwarm him until the morning.

“so are you,” you smile, breathing a little shaky because despite not moving, he still manages to press against your sensitive spots. you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a groan. “f-fuck.”

“i used to sit here as a kid, wonderin’ when i’d get a girl. what she’d look like, if i’d even like her,” he chuckles to himself. he taps your ass softly.

“w-why wouldn’t you like your girlfriend?” you reply, blinking slowly.

“i was a dick. girls would ask me out at school and i never liked ‘em back. thought my first relationship would be completely one sided.” he breathes a half hearted laugh. “how wrong was i?”

you giggle softly, brushing his locks off his forehead. “so wrong. i’d love to tell teen katsuki how many times you begged to take me out.” 

he kisses your cheek, “he’d say you’re a fuckin’ liar.”

“flying me here to meet your parents twice. you love me so much. it actually might be one sided.” you cheese and bakugou playfully rolls his eyes.

“won’t even be fuckin’ surprised with how much i think about you.”

bakugou punctuates his comment with a thrust, an easy bounce of his hips as you lay tangled side by side.

he sees your eyes roll back in real time, a swear falling past your lips.

“oh shit. oh shit, i missed this,” you warble as bakugou keeps up his thrusts, every one keeping him deep and full inside of you. 

“shh, baby,” he says over your lips, “fuck, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

every slap of bakugou’s hips causes your chest to bounce, has you inching up the sofa but he keeps you in place. he feels incredible, everywhere. his lips on your neck, nibbling your shoulder. you don’t mean to scratch down his back but when the sweet gets sweeter you need a release somewhere. 

it’s only when bakugou speeds up his thrusts, thighs slapping against thighs, heavy breaths transferred from mouth to mouth that the sofa starts to creak. loudly.

“we’re… we’re too loud,” you moan in pleasure, practically hugging bakugou’s big head to your shoulder.

“old ass fuckin’—,” bakugou bites on your shoulder to stop his moan waking up the whole house, he can’t stop now. if it’s not the squelching of you and him, the sofa is groaning too.

there’s nothing you can do about it but stop though you both refuse to. he’s hitting all your best spots at this pace. it’s as if fireworks are being lit all over your skin, your next orgasm rumbling.

“p-please don’t stop,” you cry into him, “i’m so close.”

“not stoppin’ for shit, baby,” 

having not seen each other in two weeks, means you’re both closer quicker than usual. bakugou notes your cute little gasp, you’re about to come.

“all for me,” he coos, “lemme have it all.”

amongst the slaps, the creaks and bakugou’s accidental loud grunts, you come all over his cock.

again, he envelops you in a kiss, swallowing everything you release. you tremble and shake in his arms, tensing tight around him which only sets him off.

he tries to keep up his pace for your orgasm but his own makes him jolty and stuttered. instead he goes for slow and deep, keeping you still with his arm locked around you.

“my beautiful baby,” he’s completely fucked out as he spills inside of you, the added friction of his come making him slide even deeper. 

your hand flies to his hip, “t-too much.”

bakugou gets you, mumbling an apology in your temple and opting to pull out. but once he does, dribbles of his come does too. 

“oh fuck.”

with the original plan completely forgotten, bakugou grabs your pyjama bottoms and wipes you up.

“katsuki!” you whisper-whine.

“didn’t wanna make a mess. don’t want my mum on my case,” he speaks to between your legs, lightly dabbing you down. 

“i hope we weren’t loud” you say, blinking up at him. then embarrassment washes over you, “acting like horny teenagers. we should have waited katsuki. we were so loud.”

bakugou kisses you quiet, “they’re both old as fuck, nothin’ is wakin’ them up. you’re good, baby. we’re good.”

“still don’t even know if your mother likes me—,”

“fuck off with that shit. you both text all the time.”

it’s true, that’s how you grow your folder of bakugou fun facts and baby stories.

“okay,” you mumble and you feel cosy when he kisses you on the tip of the nose. “i really liked this.”

bakugou grins cutely, stuffing your dirty pyjama bottoms on the floor. he’ll remember to wash them tomorrow. “yeah? next time i’ll eat you and—,”

“shh, i said i enjoyed this now with you,” you emphasise and bakugou understands.

“me too. missed you.”

breakfast with the bakugou’s is a mixture of japanese and english. you forced katsuki into a t-shirt because your scratches down his back look like hes been attacked by a cat in his sleep. he’s also in a new pair of shorts since he gave the ones he wore last night to you. your pyjama bottoms stained with him are currently what you’re staring at, swirling around the washing machine.

you refuse to talk, completely convinced your boyfriend’s parents heard you fucking their son in their living room the night before. you stuff your scrambled egg in your mouth and katsuki can feel the anxiety dripping from you.

he sighs to himself, “did you guys hear anythin’ last night?”

you gasp, kicking katsuki’s foot under the table. what the fuck?

“what do you mean? was it the matsumo’s sprinklers again? they’re always fucking going off at night.” his mother replies in japanese and you blink at her, “our stupid neighbours sprinklers are broken. sorry if they woke you up, honey.”

you sit up straight, shocked at how you weren’t caught, “oh uh, no! it was only for five minutes and it stopped.”

you look over at katsuki who grins sadistically.

“i heard dad snoring. still haven’t got that checked out, huh?”

“snoring?” his dad frowns, with accented english.

“snoring, dad.” katsuki translates.

“i’ve been tellin’ him!” his mother chips in, “he still refuses to go!”

“there is nothing wrong with a little snoring,” his father defends, “sorry if you heard it though, yn.”

you shake your head, “not a thing! i must have been asleep.”

for the rest of breakfast, you watch as the bakugous laugh, eat and bicker amongst themselves. every booming laugh from katsuki has him looking at you, checking if you’re okay, feeling safe and included. 

as katsuki’s mum shows his dad something on her phone, katsuki squeezes your thigh.

“told ya they didn’t hear shit.”

but katsuki’s mum has ears of an eagle, her head robotically turning to look at you both.

“hear what?”

you almost choke on your spit.

katsuki rolls his eyes, “nothin’ mum. mind your business.”

“don’t smart me. i will still slap your head.”

comments n reblogs are appreciated. no part 2 comments thanks

[rawme-price]

Ghost doesn't like to be bossed around, everyone knows this.

Sure, he can duck his head and go along with superiors during missions, show the required amount of respect so he isn't shot. But off the field? Ghost has sent people to medical for telling him to move out of the way in a crowded hall.

Which is why everyone is shocked by how you treat him.

"Ghost, over here." You snap your fingers in his direction without looking up from your clipboard. A scowl firm on your face while ghost just...obeys. walks right over to dutifully peer over your shoulder "the hell is this, lieutenant? I shouldn't see discrepancies in inventory like this."

Ghost, to the rooms shock, simply nods peacefully. He seems almost shy when he offers "i can go recount, won't take me long."

Ghost, the guy who has genuinely pulled a knife over being told to make copies of something, just volunteered to recount the entire inventory.

That's just one example of the way you boss him around.

Soap won't shut up about the time you grabbed a still-bloody ghost fresh off the heli by the strap of his vest just to hiss "get your ass to medical, lieutenant. You look pathetic." Or the time gaz saw you chew ghost out for "standing in the fucking way. Either sit down or come help, Riley."

Ghost takes every rude comment and scold with a smile under that mask. Practically basking in your ire, almost blissful in gazs opinion.

Of course, no one dares to speculate on why. Most importantly no one mentions it to you.

They don't need to, either. You know damn well ghost gets off on you pushing him around. He likes to think he's subtle but even with compression shorts you know when he's sporting a stiffy. You don't mind, he looks hot when his brow pinches at dissapointing you.

Really, you want to know how much it takes before he begs for a chance to fuck you.

[pink-disco-bears]

simon finding out a new recruit broke out hand on purpose knowing it was our only way of communicating since were deaf..

mhmhm yummy pls make this

You weren’t unfamiliar to judgement. From the moment you were born, a girl who became deaf before her second birthday, you knew judgement like the back of your hand. Every time sounds you couldn’t even hear bubbled out of your throat—a sloppy jumble of words you remember hearing before loosing said ability—your teachers judged, your father called it “unladylike”, and you found out years later that your classmates copied and made fun of you for it.

You were used to being judged, but that didn’t stop you. You fought your way through high school, even though they didn’t have enough funds to provide you a interrupter and showed apathy when you were consistently in trouble for lagging behind in classes your teachers didn’t provide notes for (math was always your worst).

You never felt right in any spaces, even at college. But you made it through and eventually got a job at a federal agency. Flash forward over a decade later, when you served as the assistant of Taskforce 141, handling paperwork and such while Laswell dealt with other ops and teams. The team was good to you, and even though there was still a language barrier, they closed their space off to you. They watched shoes with closed captions on, messaged you even when sitting beside you to update you on whatever they needed to, slowly picked up on signs and tried every once in a while to converse with you—mostly ending with you laughing at them.

But Ghost was different—a league ahead of his teammates. He had no family, no obligations outside of work, and as such had nothing but training new recruits to fill his time. But even then, hours of his mission-less days were left terrifyingly free. Once you came along, helping lighten the load of paperwork more and more, he decided he could use the opportunity to benefit the two of you.

To say you were shocked when he came in one day and managed a relatively sensible conversation with you over sign language would be the understatement of the century. And to say you weren’t touch would be the farthest thing from correct. It was the first time anyone made any space for you in their mind, going so far as to carve out time from their day to learn how to talk to you. Ghost was good at that, even more so than his teammates, at making sure there was a space for you regardless of the circumstances. Every time you and the team hung out at a bar after work, he made sure not to let you fall to the wayside and was actively involved in the conversation. If plans changed on the fly, he was the first one to text you detailed updates (even if you already knew) just so you had a record to look back on in the event of forgetting and not being able to ask anyone around you in the moment. He even made sure (unbeknownst to you) that any jokes about you were put down swiftly.

But you had navigated the world without Ghost, so while you were touched, you didn’t get comfortable in a space of similar(-ish) footing.

New recruits frequently cycled through base, and many came by your desk to fill out files about everything ranging from days-off to insurance policies. Most were cocky and obnoxious, never stopping their mouths even as you tried to signal that you couldn’t hear whatever they were yapping about. As such, you butted heads with a few. You were petty, and would purposefully take longer on the paperwork for those who were rude to you. It wasn’t like they could go to another assistant either; it was you or nothing and you abused that fact. You had toyed with the idea of your pettiness catching up with you, but you never knew it would come so painfully.

One recruit who was trying to put in a transfer request was particularly unpleasant. He mocked you behind your back (something that you were told about by Gaz), treated you like an dumb child, and (your personal pet peeve) made a grand show of dramatically enunciating his words incase that suddenly made you able to get anything from his crusty lips. So, you had taken three days on his transfer request. Every time he came over, you pretended you hadn’t seen him in the corners of your vision.

You were finally going to get around to it on the fourth day of putting it off, but first you had wanted a cup of coffee to keep you grounded after a night out.

He cornered you by the coffee machine without you even noticing. When you first realized his presence, he was already grabbing your wrist and shoving you against the table, the wooden corner digging into your back. A pained noise weaseled its way out of your throat before he slapped a hand over your mouth to silence you. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t decipher what he was saying. You were a poor lip reader under the best of conditions, an even poorer one when being corner by a man who loomed over you in strength and stature.

He slammed your hands down on the end of the table. Once, twice, he was slamming them down like gavels, like they were unbreakable. But you both knew they weren’t. You were crying, probably screaming, against his hands by the time you felt your bones cracking and snapping in a position that God had never intended.

You barely had a moment to process the pain before the recruit was gone, on the floor, bruised head lulled against the concrete as Ghost stood over him.

From the silver of his eyes that you could see, you could tell Ghost was disgusted by the man at his feet. He kicked past him, taking your hands in his own, eyeing them closely as your eyes coated in thick tears that you couldn’t will away, no matter the embarrassment as you realized more and more people had gathered around.

Ghost tugged you away from the break room and whisked you off to the nurses.

A few weeks later, both your hands were in casts, and you felt virtually useless. Texting was a hassle, you couldn’t sign, you couldn’t write, you could barely even type without having to stop every few words cause of the pain. For all intents and purposes, you were forced into silence to the world.

The world...except for Ghost that is.

He was the one who guided you by the shoulders to the medical unit, he was the one who now helped you take on and off your coat by the door every day, he was the one who read your expressions like new language, he was the one who signed to you conversations that you obviously wanted to ease drop on while sitting at your desk. He was one that covered your paperwork until your hands healed. (And you had a theory that he was the cause why the recruit who had broken your hand had been transferred to a particularly grueling base overseas.)

It was a miracle that Laswell didn't fire you, but it sure did help that Ghost moved around you like you were the sun incarnate.

not too sure how I feel about this one but i tired

[twolegsandbleeds]

cw: afab+f!reader, potentially overlooked beach sex. two freaks in love and on holiday in ibiza. 1.5k words.

"love, where th' fuck did you get that bikini?" simon's voice cuts across your silence just as his frame cuts across your sun, casting a shadow over where you're sprawled out on a beach lounger.

you glare up at him from behind your sunglasses.

"you're in my sun." you pout back. "and uh, from one of the little shops in town here. why?"

"because i want to buy you ten more. yer tits look crackin'." he deadpans back, before dropping into a plastic beach chair tucked under the shade of the umbrella next to your sun lounger. "they're the best thing about this fuckin' holiday. can't believe i let you talk me into this."

you roll your eyes, "didn't see you complaining last night when you bent me over the balcony post pina colada consumption."

"never gonna complain when i'm inside you now love, am i?" he shoots back. "but… ibiza. we're in ibiza. the 'ome of fucking twenty year olds doin' too much molly at club nights."

you reach over and swat him, actually swat him, palm connecting with the skin of his calf. "simon!" you admonish. "we're going to a vine yard on thursday. and a fucking UNESCO heritage site. don't shit talk ibiza. there's… culture as well as parties. you sound like a grumpy old man."

his nostrils flare, but he doesn't argue.

he does sound like a grumpy old man.

there's a pause as you adjust your sunglasses in your nose, relaxing back against your lounger. "but we are going to a party tonight. starts at 11pm. no molly required. but i'll buy you more cocktails."

simon groans. "fuckin' 'ell, pet."

the club is everything simon hates.

dark except for the glow of neon, ever changing lights; packed with sweat slicked bodies moving against each other. no clear exit routes. limited cover.

but the cocktail complete with little umbrella in his hand almost makes up for it.

and the way you're moving your hips to the sound of the slow baseline that's currently shaking his bones definitely makes up for it.

you're just over an arms reach away from where he's leaning against a wall, right at the edge of the crowd; body wrapped in an outfit that he's going to make sure to find an occasion for you to wear again.

and he's mesmerised.

by you.

with the way you have your arms thrown in the air and your head tilted back; heartbeat thudding in time with the music just under the skin of your throat. he could watch you do this forever. watch the way your lips curve in the corners and your eyes go glassy under flickering lights; the way you lose yourself, let yourself just feel.

it occurs to him that the only other time he sees you this free and relaxed is when he's fucking you. a thought that makes his cock twitch in his jeans and his ears go red at the tips; before he promptly shoves it to the back of his head - for now, anyway.

then suddenly you're turning to face him fully, looking up at him through lowered lashes, holding your hands out in an invitation as your hips sway.

he blinks once. shakes his head.

you pout. eyelashes fluttering. fingers waggling.

he sighs, downs the rest of his drink, and closes the distance between you.

even he can't argue with that.

he spins you, presses your back against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you pressed close; his free hand finding your hip, body slowly swaying with yours.

"i fuckin' hate dancin'." he mutters, breath hot over the shell of your ear.

you tilt your head, eyes finding his in the neon flashing lights - and for a moment his breath catches in his throat almost painfully at how alive you look. he ducks his head enough to catch your words over the music, uttered with the smugness of a woman that knows she's right: "yeah, but you love me."

he doesn't answer right away, just tightens his arm around your waist and allows his body to follow the slow movement of yours; trying to find his feet literally and figuratively. then finally he sighs, "yeah. i do love you."

you smile, triumphant, and push back against him; grinding in a lazy circle that has his fingers digging into your hip. every time you arch or sway he follows, face tucked into your neck; breathing in the scent of the perfume you picked up at the airport and the sweat accumulating on your skin from the heat of the lights and the crowd. you grind back against him again and he groans softly, ducking his head lower to nip at the exposed skin of your shoulder. "keep doin' that and we're not makin' it back to the hotel petal."

your lips curve upwards, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, tilting your head to give him better access, "promise?"

a low, almost pained, sound rumbles from his chest as he presses an open mouthed kiss against the pulse hammering under the skin of your throat. he straightens, eases his grip slightly - but doesn’t let go completely. “c’mon. before i do somethin’ that gets us thrown out.”

you let him pull you through the crowd of bodies towards the exit; out into the cooler air that's carrying a tinge of salt from the ocean. simon keeps you close as you start the walk back to the hotel along a quieter stretch of beach, sand soft under your shoes.

halfway there he stops.

you turn, a question already half formed on your lips; but when you see the expression on his face your jaw slams shut.

want.

that's the only way to describe it.

before you can blink your back is pressed against sand tucked away behind a low wall, his mouth on yours - hungry, tasting of the last cocktail he drank. his hands are everywhere; cupping your tits through your dress, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they pebble under fabric, then lower - pushing your dress up over your hips and dragging your underwear across so he can drag two fingers over your slit. he hisses through his teeth when he finds you warm and soft and wet. he doesn't push inside, just gathers wetness with the pads of his fingers before dragging them higher to glide over your clit until your hips buck.

"i love seein' you dance." he mutters. "you always look like… like yer free." there's a brief pause as his lips quirk, "an' it makes me 'ard."

you grin, capture his mouth with your in a kiss that's all heat and fire and love, reaching between you to pop the button of his jeans, shove them down around his hips. he frees himself; drags the swollen head of his cock through your folds once before pushing into the tight heat of your cunt in one long stroke that knocks the air from both your lungs.

"simon-"

"i know, love." his voice is wrecked, one hand bracing in the sand next to your head. "i fuckin' know." he starts to move; deep, steady strokes that fill you completely with every thrust. the sound of the ocean is loud enough to cover the sound of skin on skin and the broken sounds you're both making. he fucks you like he’s been wanting to all night - like the club and the dancing and the way you looked under the lights snapped something inside him.

you roll your hips up to meet every stroke, his fingers find your clit again, press hard enough that you whine; a broken sounding noise that's lost to the sound of waves crashing.

"c'mon petal. reckon you can come for me? even though someone might 'ear?" he murmurs, lips twitching into a smile that's almost a taunt. the thought, the words, the relentless drag of him inside you - it all crashes together. you clench down around him, pleasure rolling through you in waves, muffling the sound you make by biting into your own forearm. simon follows a handful of thrusts later, burying himself inside you as his whole body shudders.

for a long moment neither of you move. there's just your breathing. the sea. the distant thump of bass. simon's forehead resting on on your shoulder.

eventually he pulls put, puts your knickers back into place - tugged tight against where he's leaking out of you like he's trying to trap the evidence of your little tryst on the beach. he tucks himself away, pulls you to your feet, presses a kiss against your forehead, face softer around the edges when he looks down at you. "hotel." he mutters, "before i decide that the sand is comfortable enough for round two.

you laugh, tangle your fingers with his, tug him in the direction of the hotel. "round two's in the shower. pretty sure there's sand in my fanny."

his shoulder shake with silent laughter, "aye. shower then. unless you want t' give the sea a go?"