omg im nervous i never done this before😣 but can you write bakugo drabble of him coning back to huge big penthouse later than he said he was gonna be cause patrol went long and he finds his gf touching herself and he walks in PISSED bc thats his job and he refuses to let her touch him cause she was naughty THANKS
⋮ buzzin’ .ᐟ katsuki bakugo
╰ 18+ MDNI. fem! reader, established relationship, VIBRATOR USAGE, voyeurism, kissing, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, umm… katsuki using your vibratior on himself .ᐟ (wc: 2.1k)
you were feeling increasingly irritated as the hours went on, poor puffy pussy lips growing extremely wet and neglected, you couldn’t hold out much longer, confidently making your way into katsuki's silkened bed sheets with legs spread wide, fingertips dipping into the waistband of your panties.
the sun had already set below the horizon, the pale moonlight shining its pretty iridescent hues through the floor length windows, the subtle darkness allowing yourself to fully let loose, not a care in the world passing you by.
sighing, you began to rub the softest little circles into your pulsating clit, feeling yourself hurriedly beginning to relax the rest of the way downwards on the mattress, head thumping the feathery pillow and knees hitting either side of the bed.
your already soaked cunt became uncontrollably sticky, the kind of want and desire katsuki would be lappin’ up with his pink tongue—if he was here of course. with shaky breaths you swipe into it, two delicate fingers slotting down towards your achy hole, the wetness seeping from your canal like a river of golden nectar.
but it wasn’t enough, tossing your head to side and pulling your soaked fingers out of your underwear, you reached over to the side of the bed, pulling out the tiny purple vibrator katuski hid away for you to be used during the desperate times like these; aka when you really needed to cum and he was nowhere to be found.
ridiculous.
you knew it was greedy. acting as if you were unable to wait just another hour for him to be home, but desperation decided to take over your rationale, slippery fingertips fumbling with the indented button on the side to toy with the fancy settings.
pressing it once caused it to lightly buzz, assuming it was the perfect speed to tease your clit with, pushing it two more times, the buzzing continued, only leveling up the intensity of said movements, the third setting surely too much to handle tonight.
clicking to the forth, fifth, and sixth setting, the bullet completely changed up its previous vibrations, different courses of uneven patterns stuttering and pulsating so intensely it shook your wrist. widening your gaze, you felt unsure of where to even begin with the toy.
you settled on the second setting, not too soft yet strong enough to make you squirm, it was just what you needed to relieve the ache katsuki couldn’t help with. tearing your panties down your legs, you swiftly got to work, adjusting yourself wide open for your new found friend of the evening.
a gasp released from your lips once you pressed it up against your cunt, the circular tip smushing perfectly on top of your slippery clit, giving you just enough stimuli to feel complete.
it was heaven sent. finally having something to pass the time alone, the dull ache between your legs starting to subside as it massaged your gushy folds expertly, little jolts of pleasure sending jitters down your thighs. you slammed your eyes shut, shaky gasps unraveling into roaring moans, not care about anything else other than the toy buzzin’ between your thighs.
getting lost in the feeling, you were unaware katsuki came home and was currently staring at you in the doorframe. for once, he was unable to find the right words to say, cluelessly leaning against the etched mahogany with his hands crossed over his waist, mind at a crossroads with exactly what to do with you.
you looked so pretty like this, the small cast of light shining just below your navel, fingertips gripping the vibrator as if you needed it to stay alive, squelching cunt rivaling the dull buzzes the toy sings into the night.
vibrant garnet eyes watch you play with yourself for what feels like hours, only choosing to finally speak up when he notices you getting closer to your climax, his voice cutting through the tangled sounds directly in front of him.
“gettin’ started without me?”
you practically fall off the bed when you hear his gravelly voice, stumbling over words of uncertain apologies, quickly pulling the toy away from your clit. it vibrates in your hand, sounding hallow as it sits in a flat fist pressed into the mattress. leaning up on your elbows to face the man who caught you playing with your pussy, your voice begins to shake, “k-katsuki! i—”
“—i what?” he’s questioning, legs dipping into the edge of the mattress, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth when you don’t respond, “now that you know i’ve been standin’ here for ten minutes you wanna get fuckin’ shy?”
“it was not ten minutes!” you gasp in horror at the fact was watching you for so long, the weight of him getting closer causing your heart to rapidly pound in uneven repetitions, blood pooling in your eardrums.
“it’s been long enough for me to notice you gettin’ off by yourself, thought you were going to wait up f’me.”
“i was—i am!” you feel bad now, laying in his bed, soaking his expensive sheets, you should’ve just waited. quickly recovering, you clear your throat, laying back down and sighing, “i’m sorry kats, but ‘s not my fault you took so long getting home.”
“got home as fast as i could,” he pushes back, toying with the uncomfortably tight waistband of his pants, voice continuing, “now, are you gonna let me watch you play with your pussy, or do you want me to do it?”
.
when you reluctantly handed over the purple toy, you never expected for katsuki to use it like this.
running the little bullet up and down his thick cock with legs spread wide on his side of the bed to give you the perfect view of the toy caressing his cock. the royal purple’s a stark difference to the milky shade of his veiny shaft, thick fingers tapping away at the ‘on’ button, the fluttering noises rapidly changing.
“shit, didn’t realize how many fuckin’ settings this thing had,” he’s cursing, a pearly bead of pre drippin’ out of his heated slit, the clear mixture drifting to towards the buzzing toy.
your confident boyfriend settles on the third setting, the vibrations just as loud as the growl roaring from his throat once he slides it up to his head, “fuckkkk…” he’s cursing, body tensing at the new found feeling of the vibrator caressing him with strange sensation he’s never felt until now.
you’re glad he turned on the lamp, watching in awe at his face twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows pinched, eyes slammed shut. “how’s it feel katsuki?” you’re questioning, tastebuds slick with jealousy at how sexy he looks like this, the toy looking so minuscule against his girthy cock.
“feels pretty fuckin’ weird, he grits through his teeth, starting to get used to the sensitivity, swirling the bullet around his tip, hips bucking off the bed at the harsh setting, “s-shittt! i can get why you were usin’ it without me baby.”
“jus’ missed you tsuki, you know i’m sorry, don’t you?” purring, you claw at his bare chest, nails raking down the plush flesh of his pecs, translucent chest hairs tickling your fingertips.
he opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown wide with lust, “you know i woulda fucked you all night if you just waited on me.”
“you still can katsuki!” you whine, cunt clenching around nothing when he’s gripping the bottom of his base, knuckles blanching as he squeezes it tightly.
“fuck—lay back ‘n spread yourself f’me baby, wanna see all of you.” blond hair nods in the direction of the sheets you messed up, eager to watch your slick cunt again; this time with a light on.
nervousness creeps up the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, “it’s still d-dark in here ‘tsuki—”
“—don’t care how dark-shittt!” he interrupts, fist beginning to pump at his cock. he lets the toy do the rest of the work vibrating down the head, pretty rose hued tip beginning to bloom a painful shade of maroon, “little fuckin’ piece of plastic feels so damn good baby.”
you watch with an opened mouth, shoulders dipping backwards to the sheets. you spread your legs eagerly for katsuki to gawk at your slit, your pussy lips squelching at the new position, sticky sap practically doubling in size since you started watching katsuki play with himself in front of you.
you swipe your fingers through it, spreading them wide enough to open your glistening insides, biting your lip when katsuki moans, his cock uncontrollably jerking upwards in excitement, “hmmmm? but i feel better, don’t i?”
“fuck yeah you do,” katsuki shakes his head, unable to focus on anything but the mess growing in front of him. suddenly he’s ripping his fist off his cock and grabbing your slick covered hand, pulling you in his direction the best he can, “c’mere ’n give me a kiss.”
stumbling forward, you grab his hand for balance, shakily crawling towards him. he leads you to sit on his bare thigh, cunt dripping on the tensed muscle beneath it, your body so close your knee knocks into his hard vibrating cock.
“s-shit! get closer baby,” he’s groaning, abs tensing at the pleasure overcoming him. the toy feels good, too good. way better than any time he’s ever fisted his cock alone and almost as perfect as your tight lil’ pussy.
almost.
you lean into his pursed lips, pressing a messy kiss into them. instantly katsuki sticks his tongue out, swiping it over your bottom lip to coat you in his spit, and when you gasp in pleasure, he’s biting it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make you melt.
you’re fully humping him now, squelches and vibrations soaring through the bleak bedroom, both of you fully focused on making yourselves feel good, fucking yourselves silly with hopes to fall apart together like you always do.
you’ve been attempting to cum for far too long, the teasing of your achy clit allowing the bundle of nerves to fester into intense sensitivity, each roll of your hips heating up deep inside your core.
he brings the vibrator down his shaft again, this time swapping the hand on his base to squeeze at his tip. the vibrator drifts towards his balls, tracing the thick vein that travels at the very bottom of his shaft.
katsuki wants to grab at you so damn bad it’s killing him. face flushing maroon, he listens to the little exasperated breaths you’re pressin’ past his lips. “love you baby,” katsuki mumbles into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. he can taste the leftover toothpaste from your night routine, smiling when you moan around his mouth. “you close? can fuckin’ f-feel it. you’re soakin’ me like crazy.”
“mhm—please kats!” you whine, gripping the prickly locs of hair at the nape of his neck, the vibrations of the toy rubbing your leg each time you feverishly rock against him.
he desperately wants to see you cum first. the sinful look on your face as you fall apart always sending him right over the edge, he knows you’re getting closer by the way your words quiet down and your breathing gets heavier.
“come on, you got it,” he’s grunting, clicking the button for the next option of vibrations, settling on the one where it stutters on and off, hips jerking at the uneven feeling, “shit! cum with me baby—fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”suddenly, katsuki can’t hold back anymore, the change in pace instantly forcing his cock to erupt all over the two of you.
it coats you in waves, the warm creamy liquid making a mess on his washboard abs, the droplets cascading the side of your body. you can feel it spilling all over you, leaking from your waist down to your thigh, syrupy liquid wrecking the sheets.
“katsuki! oh my god!” you’re mewling, clammy hands gripping him into place to rub your clit just right. his words are like your very own magic button themselves, body trembling as your high tears through your body, hips halting to allow your release to roll through you, core tingling, eyes prickling with stars.
not bothering to turn the toy off, katsuki lazily throws it to the side, two hands pulling you completely on top of him in a straddle, sticky palms running up the expanse of your back. “got ya real fuckin’ messy, didn’t i?”
“mhm,” breathing out, you lazily fall into his neck, placing a kiss to the soft skin between his shoulder, “that’s okay though, i love seeing you all needy like that.”
“huh? y’call that needy?” tossing you on your back, he hovers over your body, lips curling into a smirk, “the only one needy was you fuckin’ that toy instead of waiting on me to do it myself.”
your jaw drops. then closes. then opens again.
“c’mon, y’know im jus’ teasing you,” katsuki shakes his head, placing a kiss to the middle of your breasts, blond hair lowering between your thighs, “lemme clean ya up.”
a/n: divider creds @/fairytopea! mommy got carried away whoops because like… idk i think katsuki would lowkey only get off if ur getting off he’s mean but not mean to his needy baby hehe
cw: smut, fem!reader, pro hero kiri, fingering, cunnilingus, praise, biting (his teeth aint sharp for nth), lmk if i missed anything <3
a/n: short drabble bc im moving rn cant post as much babies
𖤓 You were Pro Hero Red Riot’s prettiest little secret.
He hated it—hated tucking you away like something shameful. It went against every instinct he had, every loud, proud bone in his body. But the thought of some villain catching wind of you, using you to get to him… it made his blood run cold. So he kept you hidden. Kept you safe. And in return, he ruined you in every way that mattered.
That’s how you ended up on your back, thighs spread wide while two of his thick fingers worked deep inside your dripping cunt.
“Fuck, baby…” His voice was low, rough, almost reverent. He watched the way you clenched around him, slick glistening down his knuckles. “Look at you. So goddamn pretty like this.”
He curled his fingers, dragging against that spongy spot that made your hips jerk. A broken whimper slipped out of you and he groaned, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your inner thigh—sharp, possessive, leaving another mark only he would ever see.
“Kiri—ah—too much,” you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.
He didn’t slow down. If anything, he pressed in deeper, scissoring his fingers while his tongue soothed the fresh bite. “You can take it. Been thinkin’ about this sweet little pussy all damn day.” His hips rocked against the mattress, cock straining painfully against his pants. He had ten minutes. Ten minutes before he had to meet Bakugou for a stealth op, and he was spending every last one of them between your legs.
“Missed me that bad, huh?” he murmured against your skin, breath hot. “Couldn’t even wait. Dripping all over my fingers like you need it.”
You tried to close your thighs around his wrist but he tsked, one large hand pinning your leg open. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into you filled the room, mixing with your shaky breaths.
“Eijirou— you’re gonna be late—”
“Don’t care.” His voice was hoarse, almost desperate. He dropped his head and sealed his mouth over your swollen clit, sucking hard. The filthy, wet sound of it made your back arch clean off the bed. “Bakugou can wait. You can’t.”
His tongue flicked fast and relentless while his fingers curled again and again. The coil in your stomach wound tighter, unbearable. Your thighs started to tremble.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum for me. Make a mess—fuck, just like that—”
You shattered with a cry, squirting around his fingers, thighs shaking violently as he kept working you through it. He groaned like he was the one coming, lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough.
When your body finally went limp, he pulled back just enough to press a slow, lingering kiss to your twitching clit.
“Good girl,” he rasped, voice thick with want. His lips were shiny. “My good fuckin’ girl.”
He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, breathing hard against your thigh, like he was debating whether ten minutes was enough time to flip you over and sink his cock into you after all.
╰ 18+ MDNI. getting tired while riding bf kirishima? don’t worry, he’s more than happy to do all the work!
“fuck—look at you,” kirishima sighs, throwing his arms behind his head to get a good look at you bouncing manically on his cock, pretty mewls slipping from your slacked jaw mixing with his own brutish sounds, “wish you could see what i’m seein’, doing such a good job for me.”
his praises cause you to choke back a delicious moan, long nails digging deep into his alabaster shoulders in an attempt to stabilize yourself in the euphoria your feeling, his flesh irritated and raised.
“can’t b-breathe,” you stutter, pace hesitating. it’s difficult to keep up with him, the intensity of your ass smacking into his thighs nearly knocks the wind straight from your lungs every plunge downward on his rock hard length, the skin slapping so loudly it echoes right off of the bedroom walls.
“you got it, can tell you’re close,” kirishima grins, thighs flexing beneath you, “squeezin’ my cock so fucking tight pretty girl, let yourself feel good.”
“feels like i can feel you inside my chest.” and you can. his inches pulsate snug inside your womb, ropes of iridescent precum slipping recklessly around your walls, the sappy combination of mixed fluids dripping down, down, down, to coat your sensitive inner thighs.
the room smells thick of sex and fluids, the animalistic routine ending up with you taking exactly what you wanted, hips rolling up and down his shaft to chase your nth high of the night.
“keep goin’ just like that babydoll—fuck!” he curses, voice gravely with an intensity that makes you clench, his cock stirring deep in your squishy walls.
his hand falls down to the fat of your hip, gripping and prodding the flesh like his own custom stress ball, an occasional soft slap landing on your ass cheek just so he can watch you gasp, kissing the sounds clean of your mouth.
unfortunately for you, it’s so damn laborious to keep up with the pace you unintentionally set, the pro hero’s stamina easily allowing him to go all night deep inside of you. a refractory period practically non-existent with a refusal to give up anytime soon, the strong man barely breaks a sweat as he enjoys the ride, his hand effortlesssly guiding you to rock back and forth.
your exhausted, inner thighs burning, back aching. kirishima can tell, your feverish movements halting for a gentle roll of your hips, sticky cunt gliding against the dark patch of hair against his pelvis, body lacking stimulation.
“eiji! i can’t! need your help,” you beg, cute fucked-out face warbling down at him in a pitiful plea, hips fully coming to a halt.
“ahh of course you do,” clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, he grunts low, testing the waters with a big fat ‘slaaap’ of his hips, your body almost bouncing off his muscular thighs.
“eiji—oh fuck!” squeaking at the feeling of his candy-red cockhead swabbing past your g-spot and ‘round your tough cervix, you grow breathless—unable to do anything besides sit there and take it.
you gasp at the feeling each time he plops you down, his strong body easily holding you up as if you're a featherweight, throbbing inches smooching your gummy spot so perfectly you’re beginning to see a multi-colored array of pinpoint stars and patterns.
“you like that? like makin’ me do all the work?” he laughs at your cockdrunken state, blown out vermillion eyes raking up and down your soft frame, watching your tits bounce with every snap of his thighs.
“f-feels so much b-better when you do it,” your toes are beginning to curl, the metaphorical rubber band ready to snap in your core, a white-hot heat flashing through your veins.
“love it when i use you, is that it?” he’s teasing you now, a calloused thumb fumbling with the soft velvet between your sensitive folds, rubbing small circles to your sensitive clit, the motions making you hiccup. “should’a just asked me—fuckkk! could have gave ya what you wanted wayyy earlier babydoll.”
“mpfph! yes— b-but—”
“—but what baby? cock got ya dumb?”
it’s pitiful, the way he’s so easily able to turn you into a puddle of lust in his hands, your body at his disposal to fuck into, knowing each time he will give you what you want as long as you tell him exactly what it is.
“use your words ‘n tell me how you’re feelin’.”
nodding, you answer him, lips quivering as you try your best to form a coherent sentence, the words sounding almost silent from the sounds of soaked flesh smacking. “‘s too much!”
he places a sloppy kiss to your open mouth, tongue trailing down to bite the bare flesh of your neck, his ivory shark teeth piercing the skin. “said you needed my help didn’t ya? now you’re stuck takin’ whatever i’m givin’ you sweetpea.”
katsuki with a shy girl who only lets him eat her out if he has a blanket over his head...
he tried to do it a couple times before, only to be met with your thighs clenched around his head and your face stuffed in a pillow — pulling him up by the collar of his shirt as you ignore the ache between your thighs and mutter that he "doesn't have to do that"
and katsuki knows what he can do, prides himself on knowing how to eat pussy, how to make his girl feel good — and he's determined to get to the bottom of this.
so, the next time he's kissing down the valley of your cleavage and feels his hair being tugged as he reaches for your waistband, he decides enough is enough.
"why won't you let me do this"
your hands loosen their grip in his hair, "katsuki—"
"please, you're killing me here" he mutters, bringing one of your hands towards his lips as he kisses your palm, "just wanna make you feel good"
it's clear he wasn't taking your excuses this time, especially when he can see your slick soaking the thin fabric of your panties when his mouth gets just a little too close.
so, you give him an ultimatum...
and katsuki's mouth is ruthless, as if he's been depraved from something so divine all his life — because he has. his head bobbing under the sheets as he listens to your stifled moans. he comes up for air between licks, forehead dewy and hair stuck to his face as he watches you with glossy eyes.
and katsuki never complains, cause if this is the only way to have you as loud as he wants you to be — he'll choose that damn blanket every time.
a/n: do we fuck with the blurbs horndogs? i like writing them when i feel like i have an idea that doesn't need a whole fic 🤔 also then i can provide for your freakiness a little faster ykyk -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
sub!katsuki
✦ tw / cw: (18+) characters aged up ! pro hero au / established relationship (marriage mentioned), overstim, 'mommy' & 'ma' used, intercourse (p in v), part 1: here
your poor husband had been bedbound for hours, his deep crimson eyes sparkling with the tears that flooded his lash line. katsuki's usual insolent language had been replaced by pathetic whines, each mewl slowly pouring from his lips like raw honey.
you've made him cum— well you actually lost track of how many times the beefy hero has orgasmed in front of you. the first few times you worked him with your fist, a mix of spit and pre creating sweet schlick sounds that vibrated against his leaky cock.
changing positions had him now laying on his back, bulky legs spread so you can continue playing with his sensitive dick. bakugo's thighs and abs were sticky in his release, t-shirt soaked and discarded as his messy shaft was overworked with everything you put him through.
after making the toned man's face flush a bright rose to match the shade of his corpulent tip, you decided it was time you received some much needed attention.
you swiftly bend down to place a delicate kiss to the head of his thick length making the muscular hero shudder as your tongue peeked out to lick his slit— remnants of his salty climax infiltrating your taste buds.
the blond struggles to speak when you start to stroke his cock back to life again, coarse vocal cords grunting out remnants of typically assertive words.
"s'too much" he groans out, scarlet eyes snapping shut with the overstimulating contact. "too much—please"
ignoring his uncharacteristic pleas you continue to stroke his pretty, overworked shaft. when his chub builds up again you raise your hips over his, welcoming his bullied tip to your gummy entrance.
"i helped you feel so good baby, don't you want to help mommy feel good?"
the man unwittingly ruts his hips up hearing your voice— that name, his calloused hands magnetizing to the dough of your thighs.
your husband nodded his head along with your words, absentmindedly asking you to use him for your own pleasure. his abused cock was practically shooting blanks.
"c'mon dynamight, use your words"
hearing his hero name flow from your plush lips like a siren song turned the poor man's brain into mush.
"wan' you to feel good— use me ma"
katsuki slurs out, his mind too far intoxicated with all the pleasure.
without giving the brash man a second to breathe you drop down on his dick, fully encapsulating his length from tip to base.
the overstimulated pro rolls his eyes back at the sensation, his mouth falling agape with how tightly you sucked him into your warm embrace.
"fuckin—hah"
katsuki bit into his lip hard, muffling the unrestrained moans that spilled from his sore throat. the belligerent man couldn't muster up any confidence if he tried, let alone his usual impudent bravado.
his scarred palms dig into your hips for stability as you slowly start to ride him, building up a repetitive pace against his slack body. bakugo's physique rebelled him, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth as uncontrollable whines scarcely stifled from his weary vocal cords.
summary — the blond man in the club looks too old to be here. unfortunately, that only makes him hotter ᝰ.ᐟ
— cw : female reader, age gap (katsuki late 30s, reader mid 20s), flirting, drinking, pet names, suggestive .ᐟ
"Holy shit"
"I know.
"He's hot"
"I know." you whisper, shovelling the drink down your throat as you throw a glance over your shoulder.
The club reeks of sweat, booze and cheap cologne. The bass rattling so hard you're convinced your ribcage might burst. It's been three hours of this — three hours of shifting weight from one foot to the other as you pretend your feet don't ache.
In all honesty, you'd been looking for an out. Racking every inch of your brain for a reason to drag mina home and spend the rest of your night in your pjs watching sitcoms — that is, until you finally found a reason to stay.
Blonde, tatted and built — and at minimum twice your age. Tucked away in a corner booth with his arm slung over the leather seat, the other clutched around a glass of amber liquor.
He looks grumpy, angry. Like someone dragged him away from his regularly scheduled programming to be here, and he was not happy about it.
His gaze barely wavers from one spot on the dance floor, scowl permanently etched on his face as the sight forces him to sip his drink. Your eyes follow his, every inch of you praying he wasn't on guard for some woman tucked between the writhing bodies.
Instead, you catch a glimpse of three men as dangerously out of place as he is — you can only imagine that they're his friends.
They look too grown to be here. broad shoulders shoved in dark button-ups, watches glinting beneath the flashing lights while they stumble over their own feet — flirting with women who cling to them like accessories.
The redhead of the group looks towards the blonde in his drunken stupor, yelling that "he's got another one coming" — yeah, they're his friends alright.
And he does — two at that.
Two women in short dresses brushing their fingers over his inked arm. he's respectful, but certainly not fazed — barely sparing them a glance as he nods along.
The conversation doesn't last a minute longer; the two of them sent off with a scoff and flat expressions, already scanning for their next target.
Mina's eyes are already on yours when you turn toward her, reaching for your drink as she smiles in his direction.
"Looks like it's now or never," she says.
Your breath catches when you're met with crimson eyes staring back, taunting and expectant — like he's been watching you longer than you realized.
He's waiting.
The glass in his hand does nothing to hide the smile on his face, light catching on the crystalline rim as he watches you expectantly. Every step feels like a beckon, willing you with the glow of his irises and the slight spread of his legs to come just a little closer.
Like you're the one being tested.
The booth feels like the only quiet spot in the club. Music and drunken chatter dulling out from your senses — until suddenly all that's left is him.
He's bigger up close. Veins trace his forearm under the low light as he swirls his drink. your eyes catch on the brazen ink — thick, intricate lines curling over every muscle.
"I like your tattoos" you say, elbows resting on the table as you try to ignore how suddenly out of place you feel.
His mouth twitches into a toothy grin, scowl once dominating his face all but gone as it's replaced by a sharper look — he's intrigued.
"Yeah? you like them?" he leans back, eyes dragging over you before it flicks back up to your face, "Means a lot coming from a pretty girl like you."
"Hm" you hum, smile matching his even as you falter under the weight of the new pet name, "They're… hot"
He lets out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh.
"The tattoos?" he tilts his head "… Or me?"
He doesn't wait for your answer. Instead, he trails a thick finger over the skin, pushing his sleeves high enough to expose the ink disappearing beneath his shirt.
Your hand reaches out before you can think, barely grazing his arm before—
"Careful," he warns, voice husky beneath the music, a roughness that hits your ears at just the right tone to make your thighs squeeze, "Some of these are older than you, pretty"
That does it.
"Really?" you tease, fingers now fully tracing the outline of his tattoo, "Is that supposed to scare me?"
You don't miss the way his eyes widen just slightly — gaze flicking to his friends who've seemingly been paying no mind to him all night — before they land on your lips.
a/n: new layout i’m playing around with, im not 100% sold but bare with me 🙂↕️ - @lonelyfooryouonly ... lwk gonna use the taglist the next time i post
masterlist. | join the taglist? comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
꒰ 爆豪勝己 ꒱ › katsuki hates being loud in bed. mdni.
pro hero! bakugo x fem! reader. unprotected piv
for someone who’s so loud and cocky, katsuki is surprisingly quiet in bed. because he hates the sounds he makes, finds his own whimpers and groans pathetic and weak. he hates the way his control dissolves, the way his body betrays him with hitched breaths and feeble groans. every time a whimper ‘threatens’ to spill from his lips, he’s gulping it down, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow the moans building in his own chest. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, not just to taste you, but to make sure you’re so full of him that no sound can escape.
“kats breathe,” you gasp when he finally lets you up for air.
“shut up,” he snarls, but there’s no heat beneath his words.
when you finally sink down onto him, taking him in inch by excruciating inch, his whole body goes rigid. a sharp hiss falls through his gritted teeth, and he immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if in shame. you can feel the vibration of his groan against your throat, a guttural sound he tries so, so hard to kill.
“fuck,” he breathes, a mere puff of air against your glistening skin. his hips remain still, even as his cock throbs inside you
when you start to ride him, his hands fly from your hips to your ass, then to your shoulders, anywhere he can get purchase, as if he’s physically trying to hold himself together. his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. you can hear the struggle in every inhale. his crimson eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration that has everything to do with not falling apart.
you love watching him like this. you love being the one to unravel him. you pick up the pace, rolling your hips in that way you know drives him wild, and you feel the tremor that starts in his thighs, the way his calloused fingers dig bruises into your perfect skin.
a sound that’s half-gasp, half-whimper, bubbles up, and katsuki immediately clamps his mouth down on your shoulder — using your body to silence his own.
he’s drunk on the copper leaking from your broken skin. he presses soothing kisses to your shoulder and it makes you clench even harder around him. that’s what finally makes him break. a moan tears from his throat, muffled by your flesh but unmistakable. a vulnerable sound that’s completely at odds with the explosive hero he is by day. it’s the sound of him stripped of all his defenses
and he hates it. you can feel the way he freezes for a moment, horrified by his own lack of control. “don’t—”
“don’t what ? don’t stop ?” you tease, rolling your hips again.
“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that,” he’ll grumble, turning his face away even as his hands white-knuckle your hips, pulling you closer.
but you’re not having it. you reach back, tangling your fingers in his sweat-damp blond hair, and pull his gaze towards yours. “let me hear you,” you murmur “wanna hear how good i make you feel.”
“no,” he shakes his head, stubbornly, eyes squeezed shut. “can’t. it’s too damn embarrassing.”
“it’s hot” you counter, “you’re hot katsuki. now let me hear you.”
“don’t — hah — say shit like that” he groans. his hips, now freed from their self-imposed prison, thrust up to meet yours. his moans become more frequent, little whimpers and moans he can’t swallow, each one is followed by a tightening of his jaw, a rosy flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
“that’s it kats,” you encourage, “just like that.”
when you lean back, changing the angle just so, he finally, truly surrenders. his eyes fly open, wide and glazed with pleasure, and his mouth falls slack. a string of curses,spills from his lips. “fuuuck . . . you’re so—hck— damn you”
his face is completely red, and he’s so, so loud but he’s past the point of caring. his hips slam into yours, his movements losing all finesse, driven purely by need
“gonna. . fuck, baby. . i’m gonna—” he chokes out, and it’s the most warning you’ve ever gotten from him.
he cums with a strangled cry, your name a wanton mess on his lips. his whole body all but arches off the bed. the sounds he makes are muffled by your skin, but you feel them all the same—the whimpers, the groans, the exhausted panting. for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and the pounding of your own heart.
then, slowly, he relaxes, his body going limp against yours. you know he’s replaying every sound, every whimper, and cringing. you card your fingers through his hair, holding him close, and wait. eventually, he shifts, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your sternum before muttering against your skin, “that’s never gonna happen again”
you don’t have to say anything. you just smile, because you know that next time, when you’re skin against skin and joined together as one, you’ll break his silence all over again.
bakugou just wants you to let him into your world.
tags: situationship au, pro hero!bakugou katsuki, phd student!reader, class differences, yearning bkg, emotionally constipated reader, met on a dating app, suggestive, smut
everything is in a rough chronological order
questions are answered on the greyscale au tag
how far into the 'relationship' is katsuki and greyscale!reader? like how comfortable are they with each other outside the bedroom? let's say reader had a bad day, maybe something's gone wrong with her dissertation, and it's weighing on her– does she vent to katsuki on her own accord? when katsuki goes thru a hero burnout and secretly wants her comfort, does he feel like he can ask for it openly? can they both just reach each other about major upsets or minor inconveniences in the day without having to go through an aneurysm just to send a message about it?
i wanna eat u for sending me a grayscale ask. so many questions. i am willing to answer them all. i am thinking they’ve been dating (a few dates, mostly hanging out at your apartment and having sex) for about three months now. bakugou knows he wanted you to be his girlfriend from the end of the first month but he could tell you weren’t on the same level as him yet. from when greyscale itself happened i feel like that’s the end of the third month, how he definitely knows for sure he wants more from you. then that valentines drabble i did is perhaps 4-5 months in! what im about to say is between 3-5 months id say.
this is bakugou being grumpy with burnout but i'm willing to do a reader one too!! i'm making a masterlist for these. love a masterlist. greyscale masterlist
1.9k — BURNOUT — a greyscale insert.
but first, bakugou, who’s had a rough shift that’s just a massive snowball of a rough few weeks. who feels grateful that you texted him if he wants to come over. usually it’s always him asking and currently he doesn’t have it in him to beg.
so he turns up to your apartment, not even having it in himself to stand up straight. leaning against the doorway in an oversized branded black jumper that makes him look bigger than he actually is and these thick expensive grey joggers. he looks like casual luxury today, the type of luxury you only know because you look for it for less than half the price in charity shops in the wealthier areas.
he doesn’t greet you with a smile when you open the door but he does with a simple compliment.
“you look pretty.”
you’ve got your leftover makeup on from the morning which you decided to keep after he replied to your text. paired with a fluffy snoodie and basketball shorts. nothing’s matching from your face to your house slippers but the comment makes you bloom all the same.
“thanks katsuki.”
bakugou closes the door behind him, drops his keys on a porcelain plate painted with blue horses that you and your roommate use to remember your keys.
you can tell he’s not his usual self. making a comment about something. be it the parking in your area or that he sees you’re using the non stick pans he bought you.
“you okay?” you ask as he cards his fingers through his hair.
he’s got this deadpan look on his face. like he’s got botox inserted everywhere and can barely move besides the crinkle between his eyebrows every fifteen minutes. he’s all pent up and he knows this isn’t the place to share how he feels. instead, he can live in this in-between state with you.
“‘m alright,” is all he manages before he slams his face into yours for a kiss.
you know your bodies so well, that it’s pretty easy to get riled up. he just has to sneak under your snoodie to pinch your waist, you just have to tug a tuft of his hair by the crown of his head.
it’s all enough for moans to tumble out and the air to thicken.
“your roommate home?” he mumbles in your ear, sucking your earlobe as he’s about to tug off your clothes. way too many layers for whatever he’s about to do to you.
“n-no. she’s on a date.”
“hm. good for her.”
instead of dragging you to your room, the room that only makes bakugou yearn for more, he settles for less. lifting you to plop you on your living room sofa.
you’ve got a small flatscreen tv that you have to connect to a dongle at the back to make it smart with all those apps. there’s board games and card games under the wooden coffee table and piles of blankets of different themes slung over the sofa. a halloween one, a christmas one, a fluffy beach one. who needs a fluffy blanket during the summer? beach balls and sun loungers pictured all over it. it just pisses bakugou off more.
he’s got his teeth nibbling your neck, before he yanks off your snoodie to leave you in a white vest. you’re laying across the sofa, legs wide enough for him to slot himself between.
you can tell something’s up. if not his few words, it’s how impatient every action he makes is. it’s a harsh movement to separate your thighs. he’s leaning more of his body over you than usual and it’s suffocating. the bites on your neck, they feel like they might draw blood.
“wait, wait,” you say, grabbing his face between both hands to hold him above you.
you’re surprised to find him panting, scarlet pupils shades dimmer than usual.
“what?” he presses his crotch over yours, the thin layer of your shorts doing nothing to protect you. it almost makes you want to ignore the clear problem in the room because you know how good he can make you feel. though it doesn’t feel right.
“are you sure you’re alright? you’re not acting your usual self.”
bakugou doesn’t have enough fingers to list everything that’s bothering him recently and you cover at least three fingers. he just wants a release of it all, in any way he can.
he sighs, grinds against you again. “i always come over with my dick hard. what’s the issue now?”
that makes you blink, push him off you and there’s a space between you both on your three seater sofa. you’ve never dealt with bakugou katsuki anything but his usual grumpy self who loves to be here and wait on you. he’d follow you around your little apartment listening to what you say, buy ingredients to just cook in your kitchen while you watch. you’ve snuggled in your bed to watch a movie on your laptop more times than you remember. although, all those times ended in sex, it just sounds awful putting it like that.
bakugou understands your reaction immediately. you’re cringing away from him, tilting your head confused like he’s an essay question you don’t want to start.
“sorry, i just…”
you both have never climbed this fence. this isn’t who you are for him, as much as he wants it to be. if he opens this door to his life, who says you’d even walk through?
but you’re pawing at his chest as he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
“just tell me what’s up. then we can go back to normal.”
bakugou wants to. he wants to confide in you, hear your resolutions on his week, he wants you to wrap him up in a cuddle even though he knows once he feels it from you, he’ll crave it every time.
“work’s been shit.” he grunts, staring straight forward at your old fireplace that’s surrounded by candles you and your friends have collected. there’s also a pile of books beside it that he’s going to move later. fire hazard.
you respond in all the way he wants. a small purr in sympathy, rubbing his chest like he’s a baby that needs to be burped. you even rest a leg over his lap to be as close to him as possible.
“wanna talk about it?”
he flings his arm around your shoulder, looking down at you to find you looking up at him. he rubs his eyes so hard he sees stars after.
“katsuki… or i can put something on for us?”
it’s not in your job description to be caring for him like this. he’s not sure if you’re pretending to care so you can continue having sex without him acting like a rabid animal in heat.
“no, just the commission is on my ass for a bunch of shit. i’ve got a goddamn mission coming up next week, a new publicist and we haven’t got any new info on the target since last month. on top of that, i’m just exhausted. don’t have it in me to give a fuck about anythin’.”
you nod through it all, your arm draped over his chest in half a hug. you surprise him when you peck his cheek softly.
“sounds like you need a day off. it’s like you’re in writer's block at the moment.”
bakugou half laughs, “heroes don’t really get days off, baby. constantly on call.”
you sigh petulantly, “then you need to find a way to let this all drain out of you day to day so you can come back to it with a fresh head. when i have writers block i just consume whatever i need to write in another way and then go back to it.”
for him that’s practicing his special attacks, doing research before giving it to his team. it’s called talking to someone about it so it can leave his system.
“is that what they’re teaching you in university?” he’s trying to mock but it just comes out a tired breath.
you kiss his neck, “yes they are. who else has pissed you off, dynamight? i know there’s a few people on that list.”
your eyes are expectant, your thumb massaging his bicep. he wants to list you first. that he wants you to be his girlfriend, for you to trust him but you’re still not up for it. another roundabout reason for him to wait while you get your cards in order. whatever that means.
so bakugou sinks further in your sofa that’s way too soft from wear and hugs you into his chest.
“if you let me start, i’m not gonna stop until you kick me.”
“let me hear it.”
the blonde goes on a rant that would probably scare any normal person off. how he damaged a building beyond repair and commission is angry at him. how there’s an issue that they want to drop him on hero ranks but the public still keep voting him high. how his publicist he recently hired pisses him off and wants him to be kinder? what part of his job role requires him to be kind?
that makes you laugh, “you’re kind to me.”
“well yeah, that’s because you’re my…”
the air gets colder in the room and bakugou cannot find a word for it. you refuse to have a label.
“what’s he like?” you fill the silence.
“she. she follows me around in events. wants me to wear my hero colours more. i’m not wearing an orange shirt to a fuckin’ charity event. sayin’ i need to stop swearin’ in press interviews but if you’re talkin’ to me, you know what you’re gonna get.”
you shrivel up, biting your tongue for whatever stupidness that’s about to leave your mouth. the sound of another woman around your katsuki. it sounds like one of those forced proximity, enemies to lovers, romance books you love to read. you want to push her into moving traffic. he’s not even your boyfriend.
“just fire her. you’re literally four on the charts through public opinion. why do you need a publicist?”
he takes what you say, completely missing the jealousy that seethes through you. “kaminari’s got one. said she helped him.”
“yeah because he needed it,” your hand is on his cheek, “you don’t. the people like you how you are. can’t change on them now.”
“yeah. you’re probably right.”
it’s a few seconds of silence but it’s not awkward. it’s a comfortable cuddle on the sofa. bakugou feels lighter, closer to you too.
“have you eaten? i can whip somethin’ up for us.”
you shrug, “i’m not hungry yet. do you feel better now? you’re not gonna claw my clothes off and bite my ear?”
bakugou flushes, a deep red diluting his cheeks to match his eyes. “i was just pent up. i shoulda went gym and punched shit before i came here.”
you adjust to straddle his lap, “it’s okay, just tell me next time so i can prepare for the pain.”
his hands sit on your thighs and slide under your shorts to your ass. “you liked it?”
“under the confusion, somewhat.”
bakugou grins, his first one for tonight as you begin kissing down his neck, your hands tugging the hem of his jumper.
“off.”
he listens, because the only thing he’s sure about is that doing what you tell him keeps you happy and around. keeps him happy too once he shoves away his wants, that will only rise to the surface soon.
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
GREYSCALE MASTERLIST , everything is on the greyscale au tag.
⋮ 🪽₊˚⊹ ┆ dog!hybrid katsuki bakugou x f!afab!reader
༝ Bakugo Katsuki was your new pet, seemingly obedient, loyal and a perfect companion. however, something has gotten into him recently. He’s been a lot more ruff with you... — wc 3.5k!
ʚ !! ɞ ›› MDNI! porn w/ little plot, oral (f!receiving), kissing, guided masturbation (m!receiving), talks of heats, knotting, biting, unpotected sex, riding, very very brief implication of pregnancy, voyeurism, stealing clothes, pet names, praise, marathon sex, uh lying (?), finger sucking, rough sex, pls lmk if i missed anything!
𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆submission for @allformoan's event! ty for trusting me with this and i hope i did the prompt some justice, and congrats on 500!! check out the other entries here :)
›› my masterlist!
Katsuki Bakugou was the perfect pet.
Though his first few days at the house were rough, no doubt — constant scowls and eyes like daggers as he adjusted to the new environment. That, and his temper, made him seem untamable.
But soon enough, those sharp looks softened not all at once, but enough for you to notice. There was no more bite to his words, the daggers in his eyes long gone, replaced by something tender, something soft. Now, you're not sure you'd find anyone more loyal if you tried.
Katsuki kept a comfortable distance — always close enough to keep an eye on you, and far enough to pretend he wasn't. When you'd pull him closer after a long day at work, he'd huff begrudgingly before settling beside you and bringing your head to his chest. Or when you'd start move around in the kitchen, he'd give you a sharp 'smack' with his tail before taking over, grumbling that 'you're not doing it properly'.
He was a creature of routine, and god forbid you strayed away from the schedule — when you left for work, when you returned; even the way he'd nudge you towards the bedroom, claiming he's been drowning in your pheromones since you first walked in. But you both know that's a lie.
Until now.
This morning, unlike the many startled awakenings you were used to, you're not dragged from sleep by the blaring sounds of your alarm. This time, you're met with something different. Something much quieter.
Crimson eyes watch you from his spot on the bed, the blonde propped on one arm, gaze fixed as he studies your tired form.
The sound of Katsuki's tail thumping on the mattress may as well be your alarm clock —its pace quickening as he watches you shuffle beneath the sheets.
"…Katsuki, why're you staring at me?" you blink, throwing the blanket back over your head as the weight of sleep pulls you back in. The sheets leave you just as quick as they'd covered you, yanked off your body and thrown aside before it's replaced with his, much heavier frame.
"Don't go to work," he mumbles, so quietly you almost miss it. He doesn't let you question it, too embarrassed to admit why, his lips pressing into the nape of your neck as a distraction. Firm hands trail the sides of your body as he plants lingering kisses between your shoulder blades.
And for a moment, you let yourself slip. Leaning into his touches and gracing him with some of your own, lips turning from passion to fervour in a matter of seconds. You can feel where this is heading before it even begins.
The small shift of his hips against your thigh is enough to snap you out of it, your body pulling back from where it pressed against him as you glance down at your phone.
Your heart drops at the sight — the time on the screen showing a good thirty minutes past your scheduled alarm.
You shoot up from the bed, Katsuki's weight still draped over your back before you escape his hold. Your legs moving too fast for your brain as you rush toward the bathroom, the blonde grunting and following your every step.
"Why didn't the stupid thing go off?" you huff, stripping yourself from the confines of your pyjamas as you move around the bathroom.
Katsuki's practically frozen where he leans against the door, arms crossed, eyes dark and sharp as he watches you under the ambient lighting.
He doesn’t answer right away, because he's honestly not sure why either. He'd really meant for it to go off an hour later, not turn it off completely. Whoops.
Though it was difficult to feel guilty when he's in so much pain.
His tail slows its twitching only to start again, a constant battle between urge and restraint. All he can do is watch the way your body responds to the coldness of the air — nipples perked, skin prickling, goosebumps overtaking you like wildfire. The aching heat pressing at his bottoms serves as a reminder of why he wants you here.
Why he needs you here.
And why you're sure as hell not going to work today.
"Katsuki, are you listening?" you huff, though it all comes out muffled around the bristles of the toothbrush. Movements frantic as you rush around in only a thin pair of panties, work clothes suddenly nowhere to be found.
"… I called them. Told them you were sick," he grunts, tensing as you brush past him. The brief contact is enough to make his head spin, his eyes pinned on your every move as you search for the outfit. The one he had hidden under a blanket in the closet ... he gets a little lonely when you're gone. "So don't leave."
You blink at him from over your shoulder. He called them? Katsuki could barely tolerate people as is — and he'd willingly called your boss? And on top of that, there was the mysterious illness that you didn't even remember having.
Your mouth opens to argue, but a hand closes around your wrist before the words come out.
You have no time to question him as you're pulled to the bed, the familiar feeling of the mattress under your back, and Katsuki's body hovering over yours. He pauses for half a second, breath hot and unsteady against your skin before dipping his head down, tongue flicking at your swollen buds. His body stuck to yours as he sucks on the mound before switching to the other.
"K-kats, what do you - fuck - mean you called them?" Though you know he won't answer. Mouth preoccupied with planting kisses down to the waistband of your underwear. He only grunts in response thumbing at the elastic hugging your waist. He guides the fabric down your legs, watching as your clit twitches from the breeze of the cool air. Tail wagging behind him as if it had a mind of its own.
"Don't worry about it" he grins, giving a teasing kiss to your clit. Your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he pulls your body towards his mouth, testing blows pressed against your heat as he watches you squirm.
Katsuki looks hungry, starved. Eyes bloodshot as he stares up at you from between your legs. He gives a teasing flick to your clit, pressing a sharp pinch to it when you move too much. He mutters a quiet, 'stay still' before pressing his face into you, pink muscle wriggling its way inside you with skilled movements. His head bobs as he buries himself deeper between your thighs, nose nudging your clit every time he presses back in.
Your heels dig into his back, breathy whispers of his name slipping with every thrust of his tongue. The thought of work is long forgotten, replaced only with the man between your legs. Every movement of his is deliberate, calculated — sending a chill down your spine as he watches you with hooded eyes.
Katsuki was insatiable.
"When did you - fuck - even call?" you whine, thoughts trailing as your hips buck against his tongue. Your hole clenches as he moves the muscle inside you, thighs squeezing around his head as if you're trying to suffocate him. But you know he doesn't mind.
Katsuki only groans, seperating his lips from your cunt with breathess gasps, "Still thinking about that shit when my tongues inside you?"
The vibrations are sent straight to your core. His mouth continuing its relentless assault, against your clit before he trails back down to your hole. Alternating between the two as his hips grind into the mattress.
Through wet lashes, you catch the subtle rock of his hips as they rock into the mattress. Eyes squeezing shut from the taste of you on his tongue and the friction of his cock against the bed.
"'Suki, fuck. Pleasepleaseplease-" you beg, hips moving along his tongue as you lose your own rhythm.
You can only whine as he laps at your release, tongue continuing its movements until his own hips stutter from where they dig into the sheets. Deep groans only pushing you further over the edge as he slurps your juices. If it wasn't for the way you tugged at his hair, you're not sure he'd ever leave the space between your thighs.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his tongue slipping out to lap at the juices on his fingers.
You watch his movements in awe, jaw slack as he smears the blank on his lips before pressing them to yours. You moan at the sensation, the tangy taste of your release seeping into every inch of your mouth.
"Katsuki" you mumble between kisses, breath uneven. "What did you tell my boss?"
And throughout his time in the house, Katsuki's picked up a few things. He may not know how to follow orders or sit still, but he sure as hell knows how to distract.
Your mind feels cloudy as he pulls your body to his, arms wrapped in a firm grip around your waist, as you slump against his chest.
"Stop worrying about it. Just sleep," he sighs.
Though you're not really sure who it's addressed to.
Although Katsuki wants to be comfortable, he's not. His boxers soaked from the remnants of his release.
Obviously, these urges weren't something he could push down — not even after the way he ravaged you. His cock still aching against the thin fabric of his boxers as he watches you sleep through hooded eyes.
He needed you to stay.
And calling your work? Yeah, that could wait.
The apartment takes on a comfortable silence after. Limbs tangled, silence only broken by your slow breaths against his chest. His tail twitching where it curls around your leg as you stir.
"... Suki, I can't feel my arm," you mumble, voice thick with sleep as you try to sit up from his chest. He grunts in response, loosening his grip around your body as you trail into the kitchen.
"Where're you goin'?"
"Just getting water" you mutter, still half asleep.
But Katsuki's hot on your tail.
Your movements around the kitchen are sluggish. Legs trembling and a little unsteady as you fill a glass with the liquid from the fridge. That comfortable silence returning once again as you lean against the counter, staring at the blonde with each sip.
"Will you tell me what's wrong now?" He blinks. Tail suddenly drooping between his legs, losing its usual confidence.
"Nothings wrong."
"Katsuki"
"I'm fine."
"You're insatiable."
He grimaces at that. Snatching the glass from your hand and downing it in one smooth motion. His throat bobs as he swallows, then he huffs and turns away like he regrets even stopping to answer at all.
"It's stupid. Some weird hybrid instinct thing. I don't know." he mutters, as he makes his way towards the couch. And even though he doesn't put a name to it, you know there's more he's not telling you. Ears drooped and a soft pout present on his face.
A good owner does their research.
"... So, you're in heat?" you ask, walking over to him and pressing your body against his broad frame. Phone in hand as you scroll through hybrid heat articles.
He's embarrassed, you can feel it in the way he tenses behind you, annoyance practically radiating off him as you skim some random website's advice. His tail flicks lazily against the couch as you shift in his lap. So you don't press. Only search for solutions for the hybrid behind you.
"This one says there's pills for it," you mumble, pointing at the words on the screen as he lets out a rough sigh.
"That shit's not gonna work."
That grants him an eyeroll as you stand up from your spot between his legs, slipping out of his hold even as his hands twitch like they want to pull you back.
"I'll just grab them to be safe," you smile, brushing a hand over his cheek and pressing a small kiss to his face. "If they don't work, we'll go to Plan B."
He doesn't answer — only watches you move across the room, eyes narrowing, and tail going still across the couch. The silence says enough. So does the fact that he doesn't follow you.
"I'll only be 15 minutes, Kats. I promise," you add, glancing over your shoulder at where he pouts against the leather.
Katsuki wasn't going to tell you. Some things were better left unsaid. It was his pride, mostly. The idea of admitting that he couldn't handle this on his own — admitting how even the smallest touch sends heat straight to his groin.
He'd rather grit his teeth, ignore the way his ears twitched every time you move and clench his fists than give in to the instincts he so desperately fought against.
He just needed to wait it out. It'd pass, it always did.
Right?
The apartment is noisy when you return.
The sound of Katsuki's tail against the couch is missing — its rhythmic pattern is absent as he'd pretend he wasn't happy to see you.
But tonight, there's nothing familiar about these sounds.
"Katsuki?" you call, though it falls on deaf ears. You follow them without thinking, your steps cautions despite the way your heart picks up. Your eyes peek through the slim crack of the door, muffled noises now recognizable as you watch his movements.
Oh.
Oh.
You blink. Like your brain can't quite process the sight in front of you. The websites didn't cover this. Nothing about what to do when your hybrid is masturbating with your favourite pair of underwear and your pillow between his legs.
Your heart thumps against your chest as you press an ear to the door, your body reacting to the guttural sounds that slip from his throat.
You know Katsuki partakes in the occasional… stress reliever. You've seen it all before, even when he tries to hide it. Fabric shoved away into desolate corners, doors closing just a little too quickly when he claims he just "needs some space", always denying it when you question him, even when it's obvious.
The soft creak of the door on its hinges pulls you out of your thoughts, catching Katsuki's attention as if you were his prey. He smiles as he watches your thighs shift through the slit of the door, a finger unconsciously teasing the waistband of your pants before you pull them away.
Fuck.
Mentally, you prepare yourself for the door slam, or the snide comments at the way your legs squeeze together from behind the door.
But it never comes.
"Y-you're late," he huffs, eyes glossed over as he stares at you standing in the doorway of the living room. His hands don't stop. Scarred fingers laced with the thin material of your underwear between them, pumping them along his shaft.
And unlike the other times, he doesn't even try to hide it. Doesn't look away. If anything, you're convinced that your eyes on him only make his hand move faster. And that alone fuels a tightness in your chest in a way you can't quite place.
"... I'm only late by two minutes…" you say, but it comes out as a quiet mumble as you desperately try to keep your gaze on the floor. Katsuki glances at the bottle in your hand, then back at you — eyes sharp and bloodshot, lip caught between his teeth.
"Mmm, baby fuck - don't be shy," he groans, and from the way his legs squeeze together, and his head lolls back, you know he's close. "Y-You gonna help me? I ain't gonna beg," his words cut off by the moan that breaks through his throat.
And you want to. You do.
The teasing heir draining from your body as you fully move into the room. But your feet feel like they won't move. Stuck in place from where they're planted on the mahogany floor. Knees weak, and an intense heat simmering through every inch of your body as you watch the mess of red lace now glint from its slick coating under the lamp.
"S-seriously, baby. Got to- t'help me out here."
So much for not begging.
You move this time. Closing the distance before you can even process. Warm hands circle yours as he guides your movement along his length, faces pressed together as he pants into your mouth. You lift a finger to his mouth, thumb swiping at the drool that seeps out of the corners.
"Don't stop. Don't fuckin' stop"
And you don't plan to. Hips grinding against where they straddle his thighs, dazed face matching his as you both stare at his leaking cock. You try not to be selfish, shove down the way you so desperately want to mount him.
But Katsuki can feel your eagerness. He can practically smell it.
His mouth claims yours in a messy kiss — lips clashing and tongues fighting for dominance through your parted mouths. It turns sloppy, fast, uncoordinated movements from both your lips and your hands as he cums under your touch.
He only pulls away long enough to pant against your lips, abs tensing, hands gripping the globes of your ass to ground him. You thread your hand through his hair as it spills over, messy strands sticking to your fingers.
Hot breath mixes with yours as you pant into each other's mouths. Your body is sticky where it sits on top of him, hands loosening their grip around his cock. Even after his release, it doesn't seem like enough. His red eyes still searching for more, searching for something else to ruin rather than a flimsy piece of fabric.
"Um, I- I have the pills…" you mumble, trying to ignore the way you feel so exposed under his gaze. Like his eyes are stripping bare before his hands get the chance to. You distract yourself by moving off his thigh, pretending to search for the pills lost in the valley of sheets.
But you don't make it far.
"It's too fuckin' late for that," he laughs, clawed hand dragging you back until you're fully straddling his lap. His fingers dip into the band of your pants as he presses against your soaked underwear. "Gonna have to do this the natural way."
You have no time to question as his fingers ghost over your heat. You cling to him tighter as he thumbs your clit. Circling the swollen nub before trailing his middle finger to your slit. A feeling you knew all too well. His finger slips inside you skilfully, holding your body taught to his as you adjust to the stretch. Before he slips in a second.
"Feel good?"
You can only gasp in response. Two of his thick digits stretch you open as he curls them inside you. Your hips move to match his pace, his hands suddenly not moving fast enough, where they thrust against your g-spot. The hybrid is awestruck, watching your every movement, bringing one of your nipples into his mouth as you move against his fingers.
"'M gonna cum" you mutter, through breathless gasps, voice breaking between every word.
"Yeah? Gonna have to save it f'me." That's all the warning you get before his fingers are gone. A sudden emptiness now in place of where his fingers once were.
"Katsuki," you whine. A defeated huff escaping your lips.
"Yeah, yeah. Gotta go to Plan B, pretty girl. Or I won't last."
Plan B. The second tip on all the infamous hybrid websites. Mating ties. Of course.
Katsuki's hands slip to cup your ass, moving them along his length before he rubs his tip along your slit. You can sense his urge to push inside you from the way his cock twitches, the way he wants to bottom out in one quick thrust and bounce you on his lap. But the primal urges are no match for his control when it comes to you.
At your own pace, you sink onto him. Thick cock dragging inside you as you squeeze his shoulders. Your lips burn from the bite of your teeth. Small beads of tears clumping on your lashes before trailing their way down your cheeks.
"Kats-"
"Please. P-please don't speak. I'll…," he grunts, cutting himself off before he says too much. Your breath is caught in your throat, mouth falling into a wide 'O' at the stretch of his cock inside you as he guides your hips up and down. Every ridge of him is palpable against your gummy walls, tail flitting between his legs as he squeezes his eyes shut. "D-don't think you know how - fuck, don't squeeze - how much this hurts."
Katsuki can barely look at you. His eyes either squeezed shut or staring at something in the distance as he tries to control himself. His hands balled into tight fists as he tries not to cum just from the warmth of you wrapped so tightly around him.
Like he's trying not to lose himself.
Keyword: tries.
Every drop of your body against his cock is electric. Sharp jolts sent straight through his body and yours each time his tip kisses your cervix. Your legs are shaky as you bounce on his cock, your tears dropping down his chest before rippling over his abs.
"Mmm, so good. Gonna fuck you so full, baby." His eyes are heavy as he watches you move. The sight of slick connecting your hips before you sink back down onto him is enough to make his toes curl.
And suddenly his urges are no longer so patient.
"Hold on, babe. Promise I'll be gentle, okay?" he huffs, shifting his body underneath you and holding your hips in place. You still for a moment, mind cloudy as you lay against his chest. But the confusion is quickly wiped away by the feeling of him pounding inside you at an unforgivable pace.
"S-Suki - fuck - so good," you whine, nails clawing at his back as his pace quickens, hips snapping against yours repeatedly. Your thoughts scatter, mouth agape as he abuses the sweet spot. Katsuki murmurs small praises, occasionally tripping over his words as he feels his climax approach just as quickly as it left him.
Every slap of his hips against yours feels like a mantra, a solemn melody that hypnotizes his every move.
Knot. Knot. Knot.
His hips are rabid as he fucks you through your high, his not too far behind. Your hole practically milking him as he fucks you through every moment. The rhythm falters, then stills. Sharp canines digging into the hollow space between your neck.
"Fuck, Katsuki." You stare at him, completely dazed, the feeling of him nuzzled inside you at the forefront of your mind. Your body pushes itself closer to him, as if every inch wasn’t enough.
"You did good, pretty" he nods, hips glued to yours as he feels the sensation of his knot swelling. "Just.. Just don't move."
But you do. Ever so slightly. If Katsuki wasn't such a good pet, he might've missed it. Your hole fluttering around his cock, as if its milking him for all it has left.
And even though your body is spent, your mind still wants more. The whispers of his name against the shell of his ear are the only tell — what you need from him.
And he didn't hesitate to indulge.
Though he might need to ask your boss to give you more time off.
a/n: i hope u guys liked this dog in heat lol and tytyty on the love on the last hybrid hcs! i did small font cause idk what people like yet so we're trying it! Likes, comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! MWAH 💋
when he froze at your question, you’d taken it upon yourself to buck upwards, slipping his tip into your wet cunt. immediately, he collapses on top of you, heavy pants huffed into your sweaty neck as he breathes a soft groan.
“yeah,” he says, “i am.”
bakugou looks at you with his brows furrowed. eyes dark, he hones in on the way your teeth gnaw at your swollen, saliva-covered lips.
he rubs small circles on your clit, before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you.
“you were.” you clarify.
when he had bottomed out, he could barely look at you. instead, he focused on where you two connect. with each slide of his hip, strings of your wetness followed his pelvis. and when he finally established an almost mechanical rhythm, he looked up, and you found yourself staring into the pussy drunk eyes of katsuki bakugou.
“you sure don’t fuck like a virgin.” you mumble.
now, you’re the one who’s whimpering and twitching while pinned underneath his gaze. he’s got you in a nasty mating press, thighs pressed against the hard planes on his body, while he kisses along your neck, your face. when he pulls out entirely, his tip leaves trails of translucent pre-cum all over your thighs, before he pushes back in.
“feel me there?” he asks, kissing up against your cervix as he pounds away at your womb, with his large, warm palm laid over your belly.
you’re being jostled back and forth on his linen sheets as you pull at his hair, breaking apart your moans to heave a hearty chuckle.
you feel yourself approaching your high, the spasms of your cunt leave his own pace erratic. his grunts get louder, his fucking more violent.
when you look at him, he has the same cheshire grin—the one you had.
whatever distance that’s barring bakugou from hearing the redhead is deemed irrelevant by the line that’s connecting them, although for a moment the ash-blonde wonders if his stupid fuck of a best friend just rudely hung up on him—with nothing but a few bouts of static reaching his flaming ears.
but then his phone’s speakers once again come to life, and bakugou suddenly finds himself wishing for the contrary.
because had he known what kirishima was about to say—
“i’m sorry, bro,” the hardening hero musters apologetically, remorse evident despite his wobbly and crackly tone. “it all happened way too fast.”
“and you all just fucking let him speak?”
“we had no choice!” kirishima exclaims on the other end of the line, voice rising to a hushed whisper. “one minute, sero and i were just asking her about her new job at your agency, the next, denki was already mouthing off about your crush on her. we didn’t really—”
“i do not have a crush on her.”
“oh, come on, bro. now’s not the time to be in denial,” the redhead huffs, creating a plosive sound through the microphone. “not when she’s on the way back there.”
at that, bakugou can’t help but scowl.
the guy has a point.
jesus.
he can’t fucking believe this.
“what do i do, then?” bakugou finds himself rasping uncharacteristically quietly a beat later, eyeing the glass door to his office.
fuck. you could arrive any minute now.
“just—relax,” kirishima instructs in his ear, obviously the calmer one between him and his best friend. “denki told her you like her, but she didn’t believe him. actually, she just…laughed.”
bakugou pauses—mid-turn towards his chair. “she laughed?”
“yeah. she went kind of…bug-eyed for a second before bursting into laughter.”
that makes bakugou frown. “yeah? w-well, what kind of laugh was it, huh? was she fucking—i don’t know—disgusted or some shit?”
“no, no. definitely not disgusted. it’s actually kind of the opposite, really. she went all self-deprecating on us.”
wait.
“hah?”
through his phone, he can hear kirishima shuffling, as if taking a seat. “yeah, i know. just said, and i quote, ‘there’s no way’ and snorted, as if she found the entire idea ridiculous.”
“ridiculous,” bakugou parrots lamely, the crack in his voice betraying his hurt.
“like i said,” kirishima quickly continues before the ash-blonde can get ahead of himself, “not in the insulting you kind of way. when sero asked her what she meant, she said something about you being a top pro-hero and her being…well, her.”
“the fuck did she mean by that?”
“i had the same reaction, so i asked her just that. minus the expletives, of course. she just shrugged and gestured to herself with a wince.”
“i still don’t get it.”
“that’s what denki said!” kirishima blurts loudly, and bakugou has to instinctively pull away from his phone with a curse.
“sorry—sorry, i got excited there,” the redhead lets out a stilted laugh at his outburst. “anyway, so he asked her to expound, and she got—get this—flustered. she refused to say anything more, but after denki’s third admittedly grating plea, she finally gave in and said something along the lines of her not being exactly gorgeous.”
“bullshit.”
“right? she’s so wrong for dunking on herself while praising you like that.”
at that, bakugou stills.
“…what did you just say?”
he can practically hear kirishima tense all the way from the red riot agency.
“uh—” kirishima sputters for a beat, suddenly unsure, “i didn’t mean to imply that you’re not gorgeous, but—”
“no, not that,” bakugou is quick to correct him.
he doesn’t give a flying fuck about that somewhat backhanded comment. knowing his best friend, he probably didn’t mean it like that, anyway.
but what you said—
“what do you mean ‘praising me’?” bakugou asks despite himself, his heart thrumming loudly against his ribcage and his will.
“well, what else could it be?” kirishima enjoins confidently, “she was clearly comparing the two of you, and was giving herself the short end of the stick. which leaves you with the long end, a.k.a. she thinks you’re amazing and well—gorgeous—while she’s not.”
and when bakugou doesn’t say anything, kirishima decides to keep going.
“this is the reason why i called you, actually. not because she found out, but because all three of us genuinely think she likes you back.”
then, a good-natured laugh emanates from bakugou’s speakers. “i think it’s time, bakubro. for you to tell her how you feel.”
to that, bakugou doesn’t get to protest, because as if on cue, an array of knocks resounds from his doorway, prompting the ash-blonde to look at the source, still shellshocked from the revelation.
only that shellshock immediately morphs into terror when he finds that the person knocking is no other than you.
a/n. credits to nonie for sending me this idea back in my previous blog! i think this is one of the most hilarious drabbles i've ever written, and i still think of it really fondly up to this day lol (0.8k)
˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗
synopsis: your boyfriend looks so good whenever you’re on top that it makes you shy. when are you ever shy?! you wanna sort this out asap or you ride bakugou trying to figure out which position feels best
what’s coming up: 18+, a whole load of smut this is lowkey pwp. p in v, riding, multiple positions, making out, head (f receiving), established relationship, overstimulation (m)
notes: antm title. listen i can’t explain what happened to me. needs another proofread i think.
you mention this one night wrapped in katsuki’s arms about to go to sleep. you’re doing the compulsory three minute spoon until you both pull away and get comfortable at your respective sides of his bed.
this time it’s you spooning him, your leg over his hip, your arm around his waist. you rub your lips over his shoulder and sniff his hair.
“i really want to get better at being on top.” you mumble into his skin, eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness around you.
katsuki shifts his head on the silk pillowcase. you told him to change fabrics to protect his hair (you really meant yours) and he listened, new ivory cases the next time you saw him.
“hah?” it’s a quiet one, not like his usual booming loud ones that hit the back of your eardrum.
“i never feel like i know what i’m doing when i’m on top and i get so shy. i am literally never shy! ever. then you just end up doing the work.” you whine, “i want to be able to be on top and do it well. make us both feel good.”
katsuki breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. you’re having a conversation with him. about sex yes, but this isn’t you offering to have sex now. despite this, the blood rushes to his cock by simply imagining you riding him to oblivion. your head thrown back as your hips grind down on him.
it is true. he’s never seen you shy in any other part of your life or relationship. usually during sex, you’re confident and excited. hell, you’re okay with walking around his apartment naked. but for some reason, you sitting on his cock, legs straddling his waist makes you shy in a way bakugou doesn’t understand.
after making out you’d mumble to him that you want to be on top but as soon as he slides inside of you, katsuki will just look at you and your whole body flushes with heat. it has you mumbling under your breath, trying to look away from him but then his hands are on your thighs and he’s softly cooing at you. compliments about how you feel around him and how pretty you look on top.
which leads to you either leaning forward to cover his eyes with your hand, covering his whole face with your hand so he can’t talk either or just whining that you can’t do it and he needs to take over.
he shuffles around so he’s facing you, your minty breath on his face. he gives you three soft pecks, catching your lips with every brush.
“hm no, don’t give a fuck about me in this. if you feel good, i feel good.” he whispers and it makes you tighten your leg around his waist, your crotch against his lower stomach.
he’s noticed how shy you get on top. the frustration. if he’s honest he thinks it’s adorable. at the beginning of your relationship it was him stuttering like an idiot, overthinking everything he did and assuming every text from you was going to be ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ which would mostly mean it was him all along.
bakugou is also an idiot for how you beg for him to take over, crawling into his mouth for a kiss. covering his eyes so he can’t see how your breasts bounce and how insanely sweet you look slotted over him. you, all of you, shaking and trembling as he thrusts up. but although he’s into this rare shy version of you, if you want to work on not being so like that, he’ll be there.
his ruby eyes are so caring, a little frown on his face like he’s urging you to understand.
“i do want to make you feel good though,” you rub your palm against his bare chest, feeling every breath he takes. “be in control over the pace.”
“y’can look at me and i feel good. tomorrow we’ll try. see what position has you comin’ over my cock.”
you smile, “i’ll put it in my diary.”
he gives you a kiss, rubbing his nose against yours after, “why d’you feel shy for? ‘s just me.”
that has you slamming your own eyes shut in refusal. laying on your back to sigh into the ceiling.
“because of you. you’re all…,” you wave your hands in the darkness for a terrible explanation. “and the pressure. you’re usually in control.”
that’s true, he is unless you’re giving him head. “i’m what?”
you open your eyes and stare at him. “you make me all shy. staring at me like that while you’re literally inside me and you’re all… big and sexy and i’m so exposed and now i need to make you come while you look like that.”
bakugou grins like you just proposed. the sight of him below you, usually with an aroused dopey smirk, always saying what’s on his mind. the sweat across his forehead or the worst, when he lays on his forearm behind his head without a care in the world. like it’s an everyday occurrence that women sit on his dick and you’re next. it turns you on more than you can admit, it makes you feel like a shy virgin being naked in front of a boy for the first time.
along with the thick cock pressing against your warmest points, it’s too overwhelming for you.
“big and sexy?”
you roll your eyes, “that’s all you heard?”
“y’know i love when you’re on top. happy to do whatever you want,” he chuckles boyishly and the big arm that haunts you, wraps around your waist to drag you into his body. “like i wasn’t shittin’ myself when we fucked for the first time. lookin’ up at me like your life depended on a hard fuck.”
you guys dated for two months before you got intimate. to say you were going crazy for a single touch from this man, would be an understatement.
“no i wasn’t! but you look cocky and mean in a sexy way,” you gasp looking at him, “you look like dynamight. tv dynamight.”
tv dynamight is an alternate version of dynamight and your usual boyfriend bakugou katsuki. tv dynamight is the one you see snappily answering after fight interviews or smirking when the crowd cheers for him or rolling his eyes when he’s on a talk show and he gets a stupid question. you never get this version of him, he’s so much softer and love struck with you. doesn’t mean you don’t love watching it.
bakugou frowns, “i just look at you and say you look good. that sounds like a bad thing.”
“did you miss me saying you look sexy? so sexy it gets me feeling like an idiot.” you cross your arms under the covers. “i just want to be good at it. able to make you come like that.”
as much as he loves you still feeling nervous around him, he wants to get to the bottom of this.
“we’re sortin’ this tomorrow.”
having planned sex is a whole different game than simply assuming you’ll have sex tonight or having it spontaneously. it includes you turning up at bakugou’s apartment, more excited than usual, flinging your overnight bag on the ground and your arms around his neck.
“i watched a few videos and read articles on how to be comfortable and i did a few stretches at home,” you say, kissing him hello and katsuki has to blink into realisation.
your conversation before bed. he’s been thinking about having you tonight all day that part of him believed it was all his imagination. he kisses you back, then your cheek.
“y’look pretty,” you’re in a matching comfy pink gym set. he doesn’t know the last time you went to the gym but you always ask him to buy you these expensive ass sets. “and wait, you stretched to prepare?”
he chuckles bubbly, grabbing your bag off the floor. you pout immediately, “don’t laugh at me. i’m trying here! all you have to do is lay back.”
“i’m not laughin’ at you, baby. i love you,” he grins, “i’d never laugh.”
but you’re clenching your teeth, looking away at the dinner he’s started preparing for you both. ah, this evening he’s got his sensitive girlfriend. perhaps this was a bigger deal than you originally made it out to be.
“maybe i shouldn’t—,”
“no, we are. it was just fuckin’ adorable, i should have had a wank before you came so i don’t bust as soon as you’re naked.”
he walks into his bedroom to plop your bag on the floor and you follow behind.
“you do that?”
“i used to when we started datin’. meant i’d last longer. the fact we planned this i should have done my prep.”
his last syllable is cut off when you lay your lips over his, tugging the end of his white tee so he pulls it off.
“don’t expect this to be good, i’m just trying and testing tonight, okay?” you mumble and just as quick as usual, katsuki hardens in his basketball shorts.
the idea of being your test dummy, your experiment while you ride him, sounds like a fantasy to him. it’s true that you’d ask to be on top usually and then upon not being able to find your groove, you give up. then katsuki will grab your ass cheeks and slide you up and down like you weigh a feather.
“sounds sexy, baby,” he groans, nibbling down your neck and in turn, being rewarded with sweet gasps from you. “get naked for me.”
bakugou lays back in the centre of his bed butt naked and hard as a rock while you sit on your knees beside him, also butt naked.
“sit on my face,” he orders.
“no! treat this seriously.”
“i’m so fuckin’ serious, c’mon. you say you need to get comfortable, you’re always comfortable on my face. maybe i needa make you come first.”
he doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying, he just knows you're wet right now and he wants a taste.
it does sway you a little. thinking about the videos you’ve seen and articles you’ve read. educational ones! some being porn also. stretching your hips is necessary and it’s not that you’re uncomfortable around your boyfriend, just being on top, shyness takes over.
his hand drifts up your thighs, then your soft stomach before squeezing your breast. you see katsuki twitch out the corner of your eye. your mouth waters at the sight of him. always so pretty, thick and long, dead weight on his stomach. only from some kissing and being naked together.
“we could sixty nine?”
he grabs your hips, dragging you closer and manoeuvring you so you’re sitting on his upper chest. he can smell you from here, he’s sure pre is leaking from him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“we’re focusin’ on you.”
“says the one begging to eat me out.”
katsuki’s smiles always drive you crazy, mostly because they’re always dedicated to you. the world gets his smirks and as sexy as they are, it’s never a genuinely excited smile. especially over the prospect of having you on his face.
his gold tooth catches the warm lamp light and he reaches to kiss your thigh, “you’re so close now. can smell ya.”
before you can let the intimacy overwhelm you, you sit up on your knees and carefully slot your pussy over your lover's face.
katsuki only needed one session with you to be good at eating you out. an annoying thing about him is how he’s simply good at everything, whilst you, after months of dating, still need to work on things. you think about the sex positive podcasts you’ve listened to recently and it’s true, not everything is going to work out of the box. you’re two completely different people coming together. in both ways.
but katsuki, he always knew exactly what to do to get you trembling. it’s firstly his enthusiasm. probably the biggest turn on. how he clutches your thighs like someone’s about to take you away. the meat of your legs will definitely have an imprint after this. how he closes his eyes and moans into you. rocks your hips into his face as his tongue laps up everything you are.
like a man starved, his death row meal and he’s asked for you on a platter. he sucks on your clit and opens his eyes to see you lean over to grab the headboard. watching your tits and how they shake at every movement he makes. katsuki loves to talk but because his mouth is preoccupied, you just get vibrations through you along with the accompanying moans and groans he can’t help.
“fuck, y’taste… so fuckin’—,” is all he can manage, sticking his tongue down your centre and licking as much as he can.
“‘tsuki, so good,” you cry, you meet his eyes and your whole body heats up to boiling temperature. his ruby pupils are narrowed, as if he’s testing you to come now, on his face.
you grind your hips on him, following wherever feels good. he slaps your ass and you mewl. “i’m gonna, baby, i need to come.”
since he can’t speak even if he wanted to, you do as you please, coming all over katsuki’s face. your body trembles as he swipes up every drop that comes out of you, keeping you still so you don’t fall off. you clench your eyes shut, wailing loud enough that in any other part of the city, you’d have angry neighbours.
you flop onto the bed beside katsuki, as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. you’re quick to give him a cuddle, basking in the come down of your orgasm.
“good, baby?” he asks, rubbing your back slowly.
you nod against him, stuffing your face in his armpit as you catch your breath.
“how are you so good at that?”
bakugou laughs, chest swelling with pride, “‘m just passionate.”
after counting to three in your head you get up slowly, biting down on your lip.
“you wanna take another second?”
“no! and i think you were right. the orgasm helped.”
you swing your leg over bakugou’s thighs to straddle him. carefully you take hold of his cock, flicking your wrist up and down him.
katsuki reaches his arm behind his head to lay on his forearm. everything about the man is sex. the massive biceps, his flushed face. how he kneads your thigh to check you’re still there with his eyes shut.
“just like that, babygirl,” he grunts, “been thinking about this since you mentioned it. horny all goddamn day.”
you smile at him, “thinking of me in your meetings?”
you squeeze the base of his cock, your other hand coming in to rub his balls in your palm. his hips jolt into your hands, chasing every movement.
“i always fuckin’ am. b-but you on top, ridin’ the shit outta me.”
you moan without meaning to, “i want to do that for you.”
bakugou’s eyes slid open, “today is about you. findin’ out how you like it.” he pulls your hands off him and you pout. “sit on me and start movin’.”
“yes, sir,” you say playfully but it only makes bakugou exhale shakily, blinking away any newfound arousal.
he holds your hips, as you angle his cock into you. you’re already soaked from what he did to you, so he slides in like a dream, bottoming out completely.
“oh fuck,” you curse, planting your hands flat on his chest. staying still feels good, you feel him everywhere, prodding your softest parts, your walls sucking him in like he belongs there. but you know it could feel better, you just need to work out how.
“i wanna fuck into you. didn’t realise how hard this shit would be for me,” he groans, adjusting the pillow behind his head.
you blink away the horny fog the best you can. he’s still got your shine on his chin and he’s staring at you like he’s a second away from taking over. swinging you so you lay flat so he can take control. you feel his gaze on every part of your body, the focus on your soft stomach then where you meet between your legs. what gets you most is how he focuses on your face as if he’s recording every expression and exhale. the clear proof of him being so into you, the smirk rising onto his cheeks at the position you’ve got him in.
the fact he’s so into you, whilst looking like an adonis statue in an art gallery, makes you so shy.
“s-so last time i just grinded on you but i didn't feel anything? i watched a few videos on how to bounce on you without aching.” you try to look away from him, but it just has you staring at his chest. littered with these gorgeous scars. his golden body that can protect you and the country. you have to close your eyes.
“you’re watchin’ porn without me?”
you and bakugou have never watched porn together with the aim to come. sometimes you’d send him a video of something you wanna try but that’s all.
“for research! and some girls on tiktok helped.”
“okay, babygirl. do your thing, pretend i’m not here lookin’ big and sexy.”
“shut up,” you mumble, firstly planting your feet into the mattress by his hips and keeping your hands flat on bakugou’s chest to begin bouncing on his cock.
it’s a position you’ve never tried, one that always embarrassed you to imagine getting into and moving like so. you’re grateful for your stretch beforehand because bakugou glides in and out like butter. it’s more intense than just sitting on him, your body is squashed and he knows he’s gonna be using this image to get himself off till the end of time.
“oh, oh…,” you whine, tits smushed, stomach clenched to focus on what feels best. “i like this. feels good, baby.”
bakugou clenches his teeth. he can see you suck him up with every bounce, your thighs wet, so is his length. he could come like this alone if you moan any louder.
“you comfortable?” he asks, “you look insane, babygirl. can’t believe this… i could come.”
“don’t!” you squeal, whines flowing out of you without meaning to, “my knees are hurting.”
“i can help,” bakugou thrusts his hips up into you and he’s about to thrust you down into him, like what he usually does once you give up.
“no, no, let me try something else.”
without pulling off him completely, you press your knees into the bed and lean all your weight onto your left side. you begin to bounce again, up and down, up and down.
you fling your head back, mostly from the burn switching from your knees to your thighs.
bakugou’s obsessed with whatever position you get yourself in, “doin’ so good, princess.”
that has you looking at him, leaning forward for a kiss. he meets it without thought, biting down on your bottom lip when you pull away.
“i am?”
he nods rapidly, swearing under his breath. he’s got a layer of sweat on his forehead even though he’s barely done anything. forcing himself to not move is more exerting than just moving.
“yeah, baby. feels like torture though, not gonna lie to you.” he squeezes the fat of your hips, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.
you switch your weight onto your right knee, sighing in delight, wetness leaking from you. your bodies are getting louder now, the slap of your skin against his. graphic with the white ring forming around bakugou’s cock.
“now you know how i feel when you won’t let me come,” you whisper and he’s about to lean in to bite your lip as a punishment but you rotate around so your back is facing him.
you’ve never tried reverse cowgirl before but you can already predict how katsuki will feel about it. bakugou’s least favourite position. you know this because he always goes on about how he loves to see your face. your sweet loverboy. but equally one of his favourites because it’s a front row view of your rippling ass every time you slap down on him. it’s enough to make him come, a few bounces and he’s done. it’s also a good break to not have to think about him staring at you. the number one tip for other shy girls on that blog site you read.
you forward, grabbing his knees and for a second you can barely move.
“princess?” bakugou asks, caressing your ass slowly. “you okay?”
“i can feel you in my stomach,” his cockhead nudges against your insides, somehow further than you’ve ever felt before. why the hell haven’t you tried this before?
bakugou sits up on his forearm, sneaking his hand to your stomach, “does it hurt? you wanna pull off?”
you shake your head, then you remember he can’t see you well. you moan, grinding back into him. you can’t be quiet, can barely make out a coherent word either. you’re between crying and moaning, soft breaths of “‘tsuki,” and another wail.
“so good, fuck, i’m gonna die,” you gasp and the warmth in your stomach bundles together and tightens. you ignore the burn in your knees, focusing on the obscene amount of pleasure that bursts under your skin. you reach between your legs to play with your clit, slow circular rubs to make everything last as long as possible.
katsuki gets where you are now. the idea of you using him like a toy is what had him boiling all day. you’re moving on your own accord, focusing on yourself and what feels good. he begins to help, meeting your thrusts just so you scream louder.
“cmon, baby,” he says behind gritted teeth, “let me hear ya, louder for me.”
bakugou’s strict with his thrusts, obsessed with how your body shakes when it comes into contact with his. how his thighs are equally soaked and the fact that you’re both leaking onto his bedsheets. he keeps moving and before he knows it, only hearing your whines, he comes inside you.
jolting harshly, a hand on your hip bone to keep you close while he comes. it has you looking back at him with a frown.
“s-sorry, i couldn’t fuckin’—,” he’s gasping for air, back arched off the bed. he holds you down and you’re grinning like you’ve won a prize. “fuck, holy shit.”
“you came.”
delight blossoms inside of you, your body burning for your own release. katsuki looks exhausted. red cheeks, sweat coating his forehead. he genuinely looks pissed that he came. you look at the mess between your legs, so much come.
he grunts in annoyance, “i didn’t mean to i—,”
but he’s cut off as you face him again, ignoring all the liquids spilling out. you plant your feet by his head and lean back, your hands on his knees.
“touch my clit for me,” you ask politely and bakugou does what he’s told, mentally preparing himself for the overstimulation about to come.
you begin bouncing again, using your hands to guide your body up and down, rolling your hips to grind to hit a specific spot. all the shyness you ever felt before has evaporated, simply following your body to catch whatever feels good.
bakugou on the other hand, feels as if he’s about to pass out. if it’s the squelch in the air, the sight of your pussy drenched and his cock soaked. your pubic hair has strings of his come and his lower stomach has a shine to it. his cock is still hard, aching, twitching in painful flicks of pleasure. but there’s no way he could say no, not with you looking practically angelic.
you’re in your own world with your little mumbles, your whines that sound troubled but are anything but. he’s not sure how he can have you in any other position but on top after this. you ride him like you own him, like he’s yours to play with and use to relax. your breasts are soft, nipples perked to the ceiling and as he rolls his thumb against your clit, he knows you’re ready to come any second now.
“oh my god, katsuki.” you make those odd grunting sounds that make bakugou leak, “faster, w-why haven’t we done this before?”
you say in a rush and bakugou obeys, speeding up his rubs on your clit.
“this is all we’re gonna do now, huh?”
you hum, pace slowing as the burn of your knees radiates.
“lettin’ you ride my cock while i come early like a fuckin’ teenager,” he moans, frowning harshly because he’s too sensitive now, way too sensitive.
bakugou takes matters into his own hands, especially once you whine for him, “help me, ‘tsuki.”
you lift your head up to lock eyes with him. you’re fucking crying. tears down your cheeks, “i love you so much.”
he thrusts into you, meaning you no longer need to strain your body anymore. he moves you for your own pleasure, sliding you up and down, mimicking how you were moving and he’s ready to come again.
“nah, you love my cock. tell me you do.”
it takes only a second for you to reply, stretching your arms straight, your back arched so bakugou can see all the beautiful curves of your breasts and waist. he bites back his bearish groans, this is way too much for him right now. he thinks hes about to come again.
“l-love your cock so much. feels like heaven, like i’m gonna split open,” you babble, “love it so much, ‘tsuki.”
“my good fuckin’ girl, usin’ me like this. love you so much, princess,” he hums and before you can even catch yourself, after all the noise tonight, your orgasm is a silent one.
these strained gasps come from your throat as you lean forward, your whole body tensing. you don’t mean to dig your nails into his chest, but bakugou welcomes the pain especially when he orgasms again, loud enough for you both.
he growls into the air as you hold yourself up over him, open mouthed, tears falling from your eyes.
you can barely contain yourself, your body still bouncing as he continues thrusting his hips. everything is lewd, the stained bedsheets and the trail of sweat down your breasts. the sound of your ass hitting his balls only draws out your orgasm, your bodies soaked with each other.
“oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper. you stare at your boyfriend in shock as he slows down and wraps his arms around your body to drag you to his chest. “we’ve never… it’s never felt like that before.”
you can feel him pulsating inside of you and your walls are hot around him.
you both breathe, catching your breaths, plastered to each other.
“you’ve got me fucked,” his chuckle is dry, but you shuffle to get comfortable and bakugou yelps. “don’t fuckin’ move. please.”
you smile, pressing kisses into his chest until you realise what you’ve done. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to…”
you trail off, lightly brushing your thumb over the red scratches over katsuki’s chest. bakugou’s half lidded eyes catch yours, grabs your hand to kiss the centre of your palm.
“it felt good, princess. needed any distraction to ignore your warm pussy.” he pouts his lips and you happily meet his, “you confident bein’ on top now?”
bakugou twitches inside of you, “yeah. i know what to do now.”
“you looked…,” and he doesn’t know how to describe you. but you’re patiently waiting for an answer. if anyone likes to be complimented more than him, it’s you, “like a goddamn angel. thought you were gonna kill me.”
“i’d never,” your eyes droop, ready for an evening nap. “you need to pull out now.”
bakugou sighs, “this is gonna be a mess to clean up and my dick aches.”
“i’m sore too!”
bakugou rolls his eyes but he knows he’s going to be kissing your knees and thighs any minute now.
“still want me to cook dinner or order in?” he asks, pushing you on your back to slowly slide out of you.
you whine softly as he does, not used to the feeling of not being full. you almost want to sit back on him, clamp your legs around him and never let him go.
“fuck,” bakugou grunts, then he sees your pout. “after dinner.”
your eyes light up, “really?”
“you’re goddamn insatiable.”
“it’s just there’s one more position, well two, i want to try with you sitting up and me laying down.”
he climbs off the bed to grab a clean flannel from his en-suite. “you wanna break me, huh?” he calls.
you giggle, “no, i just wanna know how it’ll feel and the website i found has loads of positions we haven’t tried.”
you have the audacity to look innocent while he wipes your legs with the damp flannel. then your lower stomach and very lightly between your legs.
“you should have told me earlier i would have booked tomorrow off work.” he kisses your knee, “we can do whatever you want. until you get all achy.”
there’s no doubt he’d be able to get hard again for you, especially looking this eager about trying a new way to have sex with him.
you nod softly, running your hand down his face, “can you still cook? i want your udon noodles.”
if it was up to bakugou he’d order in. he’s way too tired to cook for you right now and still have energy to have sex again after. he had a whole patrol and training earlier today too.
but one thing bakugou has always struggled with since he met you, is the ability to say no. especially not when you sit up and grab the flannel from him to slowly swipe across his stomach and then his softened cock.
new couple. reader has daddy kink & doesn’t know how to tell katsuki
BY ANY MEANS POSSIBLE (1.2k)
warnings: minors dni, super suggestive
notes: this ask was sent during a time i was taking requests. i am not currently. based off this picture! a quick little drabble.
it was the only thing you could think about when bakugou katsuki was inside you. the word was on the tip of your tongue. almost dribbled, almost moaned, almost whispered in his ear. but you didn’t because you could imagine the embarrassment flushing through you like a fever. saying odd things, well expect odd answers.
you sit up slowly in your bed, finding the space beside you empty but it’s okay because the man who’s supposed to be beside you, sits at your little bedroom desk across from your bed. it’s only little for him because the pro hero dwarfs every piece of furniture you own. that’s your spot when you work from home, your computer screen and your laptop. your favourite bits of stationary, mostly bought by him when he goes back home to visit his mum.
but now katsuki’s bare back practically takes over your whole vision. it’s large, scars littered all over it as he hunches over your desk. he’s writing something in his black leather bound notebook with your pink pen and then types on his laptop he brought with him. you can see the tips of his black glasses behind his ears and the red scratches at his shoulders from last night. the combination makes you chew your bottom lip.
you open your mouth to call him. nothing comes out. then again, “k—,” nope.
you rub your arm, only in your camisole and undies. he’s got his grey sweats on, rubbing the top of his blonde head before sighing deeply.
a tiny, “fuck” passing his lips to whatever data he’s looking at.
katsuki’s back muscles are deep, thick, years of training and saving lives all compressed into a toned body. this is why you wanted to mumble the word in the first place. because he looks like that. treats you so good. because the thought of uttering it and him doing his slow smirk lights you up.
then he stretches, large biceps in the air and a groan. it starts loud, then stops abruptly, his whole body freezing. his arms drop and then he slowly turns around to check on you.
“did i wake you? didn’t mean to be loud there.”
everything about your boyfriend is a weakness for you. stupidly gorgeous. you still get nervous when he looks at you for too long, levelling you with his maroon eyes with flecks of burnt orange. his rectangle framed glasses are adorable, always giving you the urge to squeeze his cheeks and kiss all over them right after.
you shake your head softly, “there’s actually something i wanted to ask you. about last night.”
that makes katsuki turn, spinning around on the chair to face your bed. your eyes immediately go to his crotch, half soft in his grey joggers, sitting against his thigh. they’re so low on his waist you can tell he’s got no underwear on, his usual white band gone, instead a light tuft of dark blonde in replacement.
you’re too busy sexualising him, remembering how he looked above you last night. sweat across his brow, calling you perfect as he pressed your knees against the side of your head. every thrust sending you to a euphoria where it’s only you and him, unable to stop repeating how much you love him in a broken loop. you’re about to moan aloud, ignore what you want to tell him to climb into his lap and feel him up.
“did i do somethin’ you didn’t like?”
worry coats katsuki’s face. he sits up slightly, frowning over at you warily and clutching the fabric of his joggers before letting go.
“i’ll stop being so rough, i just get caught up—,”
you shake your head, “no, nothing like that! i wanted to ask you something and it’s okay if you don’t like it.”
it’s the perfect position for you to watch him pull out his cock and stroke himself. his abs tensing, that vein he gets on his right bicep pulsating, the scar in the centre of his chest going a shade darker as his body blushes.
“tell me, babygirl. what’s up?”
he presses his tongue in his cheek, then licks along his bottom lip. if he doesn’t like it, he wouldn’t embarrass you would he? he wouldn’t. he’s done embarrassing things before, like when he farted on the sofa for the first time in front of you and tried to blame it on the leather or when he tripped over a dodgy pavement step when he went to open the car door for you last week.
“last night… i think… okay so—,” you pause to groan, no clue how to just say it.
bakugou tilts his head with a smirk, “if you wanna start usin’ toys, that purple dildo you’ve got would be so sexy but not in me. don’t think i’m a fan of dick in my ass.”
“katsuki! i wasn’t gonna say that!”
“no? then spit it out. whatever it is i won’t give a fuck.”
you huff, looking at the ceiling then to your sweet boyfriend who lives to make you happy by any means possible.
“i want to call you daddy… during sex. i always wanna say it but don’t want it to get awkward if you’re not into it.”
you smooth out the quilt with a pout.
“yeah, you can call me that.”
he pounces out of his seat like a lion, crawling over to you on your bed to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. your hands gravitate to his neck, keeping him against you.
“what? really?” you ask as he attacks you with affection. another kiss on your forehead, then your cheeks. one on your lips.
he’s breathless, “there’s little you can do that wouldn’t turn me on, baby.”
everything goes straight to your core, preheating you for what’s about to come. if he lets you.
“thank you, daddy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss into his jaw and the smile you release when he moans feels like a breath of fresh air.
“fuck, say it again f’me,” he grunts, dragging your lips back to his, edging your mouth open for you to brush your tongue against his.
“let me touch you, daddy,” when you reach down for his cock, his forehead drops to your shoulder.
“you’re so goddamn—,” he breathes, voice shaky, “lemme finish my work first. i’ve got a deadline in thirty minutes, i can get it done in twenty.”
katsuki believes he’s the strongest man in the world when he pulls out of your arms but not without leaving you three long kisses.
“‘tsuki!” you whine, sinking down into your bed to rest your head on your pillow. “you’ve got twenty minutes before i start playing with myself.”
he drops in your office chair, taking his hands through his hair in visible distress. the sight makes you want to laugh, sit on his cock while he grinds up into you.
“baby, please,” he tries to reprimand but you can see him adjust himself in his sweats. “have some fuckin’ sympathy for me readin’ these boring ass documents with a hard on.”
“i’m imagining you between my legs, two fingers inside me, sucking on my—,”
“baby, stop talkin’ or you’re not callin’ me daddy.”
synopsis: there is no doubt that mr. geto is an exceptional dancer, and a kind instructor. you have no doubt, either, that the perverse, voracious need you have for him is unrequited. of course, he calls you little dove and watches you dance low-lidded and teases you with innuendo, but surely he doesn't mean it...right?
pairing: ballet instructor!geto x ballerina!reader
a/n: it's been so long since i've posted a full length fic! i'm sorry and i love you all and please open your holes to me so i may place this fic there
18+! mdni <3
masterlist
~~~~~~~
mr. geto is nothing like the instructors you despised as a teen.
you can remember walking to your car after your first lesson with him and pressing your forefinger to the tender crest of your ear, marvelling at the lack of ringing there. you were used to shrill yelling, to the echo of it against the mirror and back again, to higher and stretch and reach bellowed into your bones.
but mr. geto, it seems, is exceptionally thoughtful about how his sound carries, speaking only as loud as necessary to be heard by the furthest dancer from him. the register of his voice makes the floor thrum and your knees twitch and he seems to notice these things, take stock of them, adjust.
he does not use his hands, either.
all other ballet instructors at your company use their fingers to adjust the body, to create the proper lines. you are completely familiar with fingertips in the crease of your knee, along the slope of your navicular, down your spine: it is not uncomfortable, not anymore, and it is in service of this art you have devoted your life to. you don’t mind. and in the dead of night when your duvet feels heavy over your waist and thighs you think that you wouldn’t mind, in particular, if he used his fingers to adjust your body.
but he simply…doesn’t. he uses the shapes of himself, his own arms and torso, the extension of his own legs, to compose his requests of his dancers. higher, stretch, reach, he murmurs to the group of you, extending himself into position and showing you.
and a part of you likes that a great deal; there is no sense of injustice with him, no upset that he is asking something of you that he cannot himself achieve. you and the rest of the dancers watch as his twists and bows, displaying himself to guide through the moves, and it’s such a striking thing to behold that you can’t bring yourself to mind.
still, his beauty is the hardest part of being his student. the cording of his muscles, the sleek ink of his hair, the lithe curvature of his movements, it’s torturous. all at once you want to dance as he does, want to make your audience feel as he makes you feel, want him to shed himself of all professionalism and touch you somewhere irrevocable. you feel terrible and silly wanting it, wanting him, but there’s no helping it, you think.
and anyway, you insist that this wanting you indulge in in the dark isn’t dangerous. there is no oxygen for it in the studio, nothing to nurture your fantasies, and so you have to believe that they will wither and die with time.
of course, while you tie the ribbons of your pointe shoes around your ankles in the empty studio, you pray this fantasy death will happen sooner rather than later. it’s completely exhausting to be so constantly wondering what his cock feels like, and mr. geto likes to remind you that exhausted is no state to dance in.
you love arriving to the studio early like this. before the room is overtaken with the smell of sweat and resin, you can breathe in the marley flooring and stretch your legs wide, grateful. you seek out lonely moments to appreciate how rare it is that you’ve succeeded in ballet enough to make a living from it; you close your eyes and get overdramatically philosophical, and it’s a privilege. you love it.
and yes, fine, it secures mr. geto’s first five minutes in the studio for yourself. this cannot be helping your attempt to suffocate your wanting, you know, but then he’s walking through the door draped in fine linen and hair pulled messy to the crown of his head, and you go boneless.
“good morning, dove,” he calls over his shoulder, turned away from you as he sets his things down.
you don’t remember when he started calling you that, and you don’t know if he uses it with other dancers, but god how can you blame yourself for getting sticky for him when he addresses you that way?
“good morning, mr. geto,” you call back, trying to sound lazy with the dawn as you continue stretching. you watch your fingers splayed on the floor, the borders of each vinyl panel, anything other than his strides towards his seat at the front of the room.
he plops rather unceremoniously down, legs spread slightly and head tipped back as he groans something truly criminal. you can feel something hot and biting between your legs but you try to ignore it, looking up at him.
“exhausted is no state to dance in,” you say with a smile.
he does not lift his head—you wonder if he wants to cause you pain by forcing you to watch the curved tilt of his throat and jaw—but you can see from the movement of his cheeks that he is smiling a little.
“i’m not dancing, dove, you are.”
you roll onto your back and starfish out, sufficiently limber. “what sort of terror will rain down on us today?”
he does look down at you then, lip still curved enough to look like a smirk, and when his head tilts just slightly you die a little death. “terror? i’m never terrible, i know i’m not.” his fingers make a soft sound against his thigh as he taps on it mindlessly. “you’ll like the combos today.”
you can’t help but bark a little laugh. “you don’t mean that. that’s something you only say when they’re hard.”
a chuckle pushes out through his nose. “yes, i know.” and then, matter-of-factly, he adds, “you like it hard.”
and god you try not to draw attention to the innuendo in that comment. just as he says it the doors are pushed open with a low thunk and the rest of the dancers come filtering in, and so you have every possible opportunity to be normal and professional and not silly and terrible, but you are a silly and terrible woman, so your chest stutters on your next breath. and he watches.
you choose to believe, for your health and happiness, that he still couldn’t quite discern what your reaction was, or why it would have happened. but you cannot deny the fleeting scent of smugness on him, or the way his jaw twitches when his eyes flit to you between greeting your colleagues.
he must be, you decide as you come to take your place at the barre, a cruel and unusual man who has recognized your unrequited lust and wants to punish you for it.
yes, that must be it, you assure yourself.
the rest of class is excruciating. all the typical torment of watching the man whose bones you are so desperate to jump contort himself into beautiful shapes is mounted further by the way he watched you this morning, the way his head dropped to the side just so to see you fluster for a moment.
you try to channel it into the combos. as you travel across the room, you work to carve the feeling from your chest and toss it outwards, anywhere else. your legs burn with your leaping and turning but you push harder, hoping you’ll reach some critical point at which the physical soreness of your muscles eclipses the fluttering behind your navel, but you can’t quite catch it. and every time you hope you might be close, you feel your fingertips just grazing a moment of forgetting, you catch his eye again, and something hungry pulses in your stomach.
you probably need to get fucked. you definitely need to get fucked, actually, because you’ll ruin all your leotards if this continues.
sweat shines down your body by the time class is finally, mercifully over, and the plan has already solidified then. you’ll go out tonight, you’ll get well and sufficiently railed, and at long last you will be able to address your fucking ballet instructor properly.
even collecting your bag from the floor makes your muscles scream. your steps drag as you shuffle about, removing your pointe shoes and slinging your purse over your shoulder in the waning light of the day.
“was that your attempt at proving me wrong?”
you straighten, inhaling sharply. when you look over your shoulder, it’s only you and mr. geto in the studio again. he’s standing in the threshold now, body leaned against the door as he watches you finish packing.
fuck.
normally you might relish this sort of attention from him, but at this point you feel overfilled with the smoke of your desperation and you need to breathe. you need to go to the club and release some of this pent up sexual energy. you need to get out before you spread your legs for him in front of the fucking mirror.
you try to laugh lightly, but it sounds tired and reedy. “yeah, i guess not.” shrugging a little, you add, “couldn’t help it.” and you tried to use that tone of voice one uses when a conversation is over, for the first time since meeting him hoping he simply turns and leaves, but he stays static there, watching you.
you flounder, looking for anything else to say. you want to lighten the tension that’s pulling your hips towards him, so you put on a wry smile. “i’ll try less tomorrow.”
that makes him chuckle as he brings a hand up to massage one shoulder. inevitably you think of how it might feel under your fingers, how it might tense if you were riding him and he was using that arm to lift and drop you on his—
“i do have one note for you, actually,” he murmurs, and you try to mask the horror on your face as he begins walking towards you. “show me your grand adage from the last combo.”
you hesitate a moment, clutching your purse tightly with one arm and opening your diaphragm so he doesn’t see your lungs constrict. this is normal, you remind yourself, he is being a normal instructor.
and it’s true, this is normal, but he has abnormal sex appeal and you are abnormally tightly wound and and he has never adjusted you with his hands before. this is a terrible, horrible, grotesque idea, but what are you supposed to say? no?
you drop your things slowly at your feet, tracking the sweeping of his eyes along your movements. with your hands empty again you stand still a moment, surely looking as bewildered as you feel, but he nods slightly: go ahead.
you steady the soft tremble of your fingers as you extend your arms outwards, aligning your spine as your leg extends behind you. your core engages to keep your hips from tilting upwards, chin high to create a sloping line from your neck and down your torso. even though you do not—cannot—look mr. geto in the eyes you can feel him watching, your muscles twitch when he assesses them, fluttering like little birds under your skin.
“yes, that’s it,” he says, low, behind his teeth. he begins to walk around you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was trying to make you feel predated.
two things happen at once. you realize—and the weight of it nearly buckles your knees and takes you through the floor of the studio—that he is not going to show you want he wants by doing it at precisely the moment one long finger brushes the under side of your thigh. there isn’t even anything promiscuous about where he grazes the fingerpad, but nevertheless you feel like an open wound, a nerve, only barely restraining a full body shudder at the feeling. what the fuck is he doing?
“you can lift this higher.”
you’re almost thankful that you scoff on instinct; it makes you sound less affected by this than you are. “i’m—i’m trying, but–”
and then you really do shudder, hot and tacky from the nexus of your legs as his hand grips your thigh in full, pulling it a centimeter higher and watching your body absorb the movement to balance. your breaths puff sharp and you can’t even attempt to stop them now.
his voice is no louder than a whisper but there’s no breath in it, all timbre and sound. “there, dove. hold that.” his hand pulls away torturously slow, and at such an angle that you feel the point of each fingertip as his palm falls away. you hope he’s spontaneously blinded so he can’t see the goosebumps erupting down your arms, but instead he leans an inch closer to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, watching you strain to keep the position from just behind your shoulder.
“it makes it harder if you hold your breath.” you can hear the twitch of his lips in that and it makes it no easier for you to take in air, but you pull a trembling gulp of air in anyways. to please him, you suppose, because apparently that’s all you’re capable of doing.
he hums in approval, “that’s good enough, dove, thank you.”
and no sooner do the words leave his lips are you dropping your leg and fleeing out the door, only barely remembering your bag.
~~~~~~~
you’re learning that your desperation for your ballet instructor is an exceptionally powerful tool.
earlier today, you pushed your body beyond its limit in the name of exorcising yourself of the curse of him. you were an outward force then, expanding and swelling and trying to expel the dark sweetness between your thighs.
now, haunting the neon shadows of this club in your highest, most painful heels, you think your desperation has a scent. you can’t remember ever being looked at in this way; from across the dance floor and behind the bar and in a far away corner, you catch men’s glances, all of them wolfish and interested. they can tell you need to be fucked, immediately.
you select the largest specimen you can find; a hulking mountain of a creature with a scar down one side of his mouth. he’s not quite handsome in the way suguru is handsome, it’s a louder, more insistent sort of attractiveness, but nonetheless you eye fuck him until he approaches you, knowing his weight will feel nice enough from behind.
he grabs at your side when he arrives in front of you, sliding a paw down your lower back. “come dance with me,” he rasps into your ear, and while normally you’d ask for the decency of exchanging names, tonight you’re sold.
you laugh as he tugs you into the fray, a throng of bodies pressed close and tacky with sweat. there’s a strange relief as he settles behind you, strobes flaring in your vision and his thick fingers around your waist. you can already feel how this ends, something sloppy and vaguely grotesque but you don’t even mind, you’re so coiled and greedy for this man you cannot have.
the music pulls you together and he grinds with you in time with it, pulling your ass against his jeans and twisting your hips back and forth.
he runs his nose down the slope of your neck, feeling how pliant your limbs move for him. “you’re flexible, huh?”
with your head tilted back against his shoulder he brings one hand slowly up the front of your body, grasping loosely at your neck. you grin and nod into it, letting your eyes go hazy as you look up at the rigged lights and the rising fog.
you’re fucking soaked. you really would just like it if he’d bully his cock into you here in the middle of the dance floor so you can finally think straight, and you’re considering pulling him into the bathroom to do something truly indefensible against the dirty basin of a sink, but you feel his tendons tense around your throat and it makes you tilt your chin back down on instinct.
into your ear he asks, almost amused by what he’s seeing, “d’you know him?”
your heart sinks.
whatever buoy you had wrestled between your arms was dissolving back into salt water, you’re slipping, you’re frantic, you’re looking across the dance floor and fucking suguru geto is there.
his hair is down and silky over his shoulders, which pull a white t shirt taut across the planes of his chest. you can see, even from here, the shadows of lean muscle, his body’s capacity for dance. the sleeves of his shirt are short enough that you can see, for the first time, the head of a snake tattoo peeking just below the hem.
fuck.
and no wonder your enormous dance partner figured you knew each other; the way he’s looking at you is lethal, a sharp slice of a stare from across the room, a pointed watching. his lips twitch when he sees you notice him, something conspiratorial and entirely his own there. it looks as though he’s holding a live animal in his mouth, sly and coy and biting down on a moving thing behind his tongue. a single, sinewy hand lifts from his side and he waves.
fuck fuck fuck.
in a fleeting out-of-body event, you can appreciate the hilarity of this moment. it pulls a sound from your throat, almost a laugh, almost a scoff, too, and you stumble slightly out of the hold of the man behind you. “i—well, yeah, actually.” you have no idea what look you’re wearing, but when you turn to face your dance partner, it makes him chuckle under his breath.
“you uh,” he scratches at his scar with his thumb, “you wanna go over there?”
he’s teasing you—this much is obvious to you—and so much of you is desperate to tell him no, i’d like to stay right here, and grip to the veins of his forearms and let him take you home. but then you think of mr. geto’s hands along your thigh as he adjusted it and it’s almost like he has you between his fingers again, towing you towards him.
“i–i’m sorry, i just think i should go and–” you gesticulate behind you, vaguely, reaching for something dignified to say, “and say hi.” a failure of the highest order.
the man in front of you laughs again, deep and from his stomach this time. he’s already tilting his body away from you, already letting you go, already sensing that the smell of your pussy was meant for the long-haired figure a few feet away. “you go right ahead, ma,” you think if he wasn’t so huge a person, his laughing would sound like giggling, “i’ll be fine.”
the sight of him slipping away from you makes you nauseous. you’re watching your own failure, all six feet and four inches of him, dissipating again into the sea of people, already under the manicured fingers of other women who aren’t waiting to arch for someone who essentially equates to their boss.
but there’s something secret and sweet to watching him go, too. standing resigned on the dance floor, accepting whatever honeyed trap fate has set for you, you can unburden yourself from this taxing process of trying so hard not to embarrass yourself. yes, you think, i will simply embarrass myself, and maybe whatever follows won’t feel so excruciatingly painful.
geto watches you carefully as you slink to his table. he keeps the muscles in his face slack, neutral enough to obscure the meaning from his expression, but the faint pull of his jaw reminds you of this morning, of after class. despite yourself, you align your body properly as you take the six odd steps to stand at his feet, extending your legs the way you know he’d want in the light of day.
he smells like musk and something botanical when you get close enough. you hope you don’t smell like your own slick.
“it was sort of deja vu, watching that,” he begins. even under the beating of the music he refuses to shout, voice unfurling from behind his lips and just barely reaching your ears.
you wrinkle your nose a little. “how do you mean?”
the ice in his drink chimes with a flick of his wrist. “watching you dance.”
you tilt your head back and forth, feigning some sort of consideration. “no, i think this might be different.”
he’s smiling enough now that you can almost see his teeth. the part of you that is desperate to be cautious screeches that he’s playing with you, he doesn’t want you, but with each tip of your skull you can feel that voice liquifying. you hope it slips out your ear.
“how so?” he asks.
you do your best to keep a straight face. “well, for one, i don’t want your notes.”
he looks almost joyful to spit this back at you: “oh i have a few, actually.”
your laugh is too breathy and real to truly hear it against the ambient noise of the room, but he tracks it anyway, swishes his ice again. “you’re unqualified, unfortunately. this type of dancing isn’t your expertise, mr. geto—”
“suguru,” he interjects. “suguru here.”
your thighs twitch, almost stinging with need now, but you steady yourself with a breath, humming, “okay, suguru, this type of dancing isn’t your expertise. i only accept edits from experts.”
“i might surprise you, dove.”
you run your tongue along the front of your teeth. he’s asking you to play, you think, and so you raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin the way he does when he wants you to begin.
“well,” he takes a fraction of a step towards you and you match it backwards, pushed by the heat of him and the smell of his cologne, “i think you moved a little too quickly.”
you’re moving entirely in tandem now, him forward and you back, all the way until your head bumps a wall. cornered like this, he eclipses almost your entire line of sight, a vignette of dark hair.
“the part when you tilt your head back here,” and he gestures to his shoulder, “that’s the best part. you fell straight into it.”
something shudders up your legs and you squeeze them together, desperate for a moment of anything against the swelling button between them.
“they need to wait longer for it. makes it better.”
his smirk is slowly fading, something more intimate making space for itself across his mouth. if he recognizes the irony of this, he doesn’t show it, demanding simply: “show me.”
you have half a mind to gape at him, at what he’s offering, but instead you turn—stupid, whorish thing—as he asked, pressing yourself slowly to him. when your ass bumps against his pelvis he groans low. he’s rock hard against you, and a gasp moves up your windpipe but he has his free hand on your chin first, forcing your head back to his shoulder.
contorted like this, his nose grazes your cheek, his breath filtered into your ear. you whine, feline and soft, and he hums in return.
“yeah, it’s good, huh?” and he ruts his hips slightly into yours to emphasize his point, nosing your cheekbone. “so you have to start somewhere else.”
the hand on your chin falls away, moving to the small of your back where it bends back for him. he pushes his thumb to your spine, and then the rest of his palm, bending you forward at the waist. your hands come up to brace on the wall and you let your forehead fall there, too, letting the cool concrete tether you to whatever sanity you have left.
he exhales like veneered restraint watching you tilt, feeling the extra push of your thighs against his cock twitching in his pants. “yes, dove, like that.” he grinds against you in earnest then, dragging the clothed shaft of him over the globes of your ass. “he should work for it a little.”
he pushes again and you moan fully. it leaps from the wall to his ears and it earns you another drag, his fingers bruising against your waist.
“and then,” his composure is dwindling, you can hear it, and he ruts again, “once he’s worked up,” he drags the hand at your hip up your side, around your front, between your breasts to arch you back to him again. your back bows taut and impossible to meet him, head falling immediately to his shoulder this time, eyes squeezed shut. you wonder if your slick is running down your legs now, or if it’s still pooled in your panties. he finishes into your ear, “then you come up here.”
you wiggle your hips against him, needy, and he grunts. “what did he say to you?” he grits out.
your capacity to think is low, practically panting like he’s already inside you. “huh?”
“when he had you here, he said something that made you laugh, i wanna know what it was.” with his hand fanned across your stomach he can pull you tight against his thrusts.
“h-he, he said i—fuck suguru, i-”
“come on, little dove,” he coos.
your eyes flutter open to find him watching you, purple eyes skidding across your skin. “he said i was flexible,” you huff.
he smiles like he’s going to eat you. “oh yeah? and did you tell him it’s because your mr. geto stretches you?”
your fists bunch and pull against the wall. you’re certain he can feel you clenching through your dress. your mr. geto, jesus. “n-no,” you breathe.
“oh, that cuts deep, dove,” he tuts, but he fucks against your ass again anyway, “i work so hard to stretch you open and you’re not giving me credit?”
you find yourself with the fleeting and miraculous wherewithal to laugh, light and towards the ceiling. “i’ll tell him next time, then.”
that makes suguru laugh, too, the both of you almost manic with the truly absurd suggestion that you would ever be touched by anyone else.
you feel very suddenly like a stray dog at his doorstep, scrap-fed by his hand, bony and waiting for something warm to be tossed out again. the fear that he doesn’t mean this the way you’re taking it, that he wants you only briefly, chokes you still.
“are you drunk?” you ask him.
he lets you feel the frenetic pattern of his breathing against your neck. “no.”
and then even smaller, you can’t help it: “are you messing with me?”
slowly, he brings the hand with his drink up, extending his forefinger out around your front. it’s cold from the glass as it taps on your chin once, twice, and then drags down the line of your throat. “no.”
and you aren’t quite sure how you would describe what you feel move through him then, a trembling sort of shake, maybe, but as it buzzes through his hips he thrusts the momentum up into you. later, you would come to realize this was the sensation of him, at last, deciding something he could not take back.
“i think you left something with me at the studio today,” he murmurs. the electricity of knowing you did not leave something at the studio takes hold of your ribs and tugs. “you left in such a rush.”
“i think you know that’s you’re fault, suguru.”
he smiles small into the side of your face. “yes, i know.” a finger brushes under the swell of your breast. “i can drive you there to come get it.”
you’re beginning to squirm in his hold now, the beastly thing between your thighs drooling in full, usurping control of your limbs. “haven’t you been drinking?”
and suguru is all too pleased to bring his glass to your lips, tipping it slowly onto your tongue.
he’s drinking fucking sparkling water.
he isn’t even tipsy.
you’re nodding before you can even gulp enough air to say yes.
~~~~~~~
you barely make it out of his car before he’s on you. pressed against the passenger door, he kisses you like he wants to reach inside and pull out a rib. it’s teeth and tongue and your mewls in his mouth, and it makes him pull one leg up around his hip to grind slow against your clothed pussy.
he strokes his tongue along yours as he guides you to the front door, bucking into you when you bite down soft on his bottom lip.
“fuck,” he pants. “get inside.”
seeing the studio at night is strange. the moonlight glints off the mirror, bathing the room in silver streaks. stranger still is hearing geto come in behind you, locking the door with a low snick.
he passes behind you like a memory, stepping just to graze your back and shoulder before pulling away and towards his usual seat at the mirror. “stand center floor for me, dove,” he instructs.
your body moves without much thought. it’s so easy to do as he says here, to pervert the habit of following his directions as you stand at the center of the vinyl.
suguru runs a hand across his jaw, over his lips, watching you stand static as asked. you know how lust blown your eyes are already because you can see the black depth of them in the mirror behind his head. “stretch for me,” he sighs.
a strange confidence feeds and swells in your belly, something alight and excited as you bend at the waist. your movements are no more salacious than they normally are, simple contortions to warm your hips and thighs, but you slow them enough to match the moment. your dress, too, heightens it; the hem teases the curve of your ass, your swollen mound, tight against you in ways your dance clothes aren’t. geto has sharpened the air to a fine point, and you teeter on it.
your head flips over, legs softly bent and then straight again, swishing open and closed. between each movement you glance up at him, swallowing thick at the shadow behind the tent in his jeans, the clench of his fist as it approaches his length. when you open your legs past second position and bend to stretch between them, he moans, unashamed, and you can tell from the lilt of pain in it that he’s stroking himself over his pants now. your pussy nearly opens in this position, faced away from him, and you feel the fever say his name.
“your middle split now, dove,” he grips himself like he means to strangle, tipping his head back against the mirror to watch you over the bridge of his nose, adding, “please.”
with your hands splayed on the floor, you drop simply into it. when your clit bumps the cool flooring you whine in your throat, settling your weight. suguru is stroking himself in earnest over the denim when you peer up at him. “uh huh,” he pants, “and bend the knees now, just a little.”
your knees cant up and you tuck your tailbone, forcing your dress to ruck up around your hips and display, fully, the wet mess of your panties. the suffocated whine suguru sounds punches the air from your lungs, and you lean back onto your elbows behind you, looking to breathe, looking to survive for another moment.
you wish you could have a picture of the two of you this way; you entirely on display for him—and for yourself, too, as you cannot avoid your own reflection beside him—and your unflappably composed instructor, squeezing down the veins of his cock through the rough pull of his jeans, watching. and because you spend hours every day being directed by him, you know what he will ask you next before he even voices it, but you wait to hear it anyway.
“touch yourself for me.”
your fingers fly to your clit, drawing slow circles around, crossing over to feel yourself jolt. your hole pulses and spits, and suguru growls like he can see it from halfway across the room. the utter relief of friction, fucking finally, makes you tip your head back, moaning wild into the still air.
but then you hear his lips part to say something and you’re pulling your head back straight, still circling over your clit and then your entrance, meaningless patterns over your thong that make your toes curl in your heels.
“you know i never once—ngh, fuck—had the urge to adjust a student with my hands? i always hated that when i was in class,” he grits. with trembling hands, he begins to unbutton himself, pulling his cock out and tugging on it immediately.
god, he’s pretty. long and soft and leaning the way the rest of him leans, gliding between his fingers with the pearls of pre beading at his tip.
“but i thought that if i,” he pauses to groan with you, “if i touched you once i could fucking forget about it.”
you speed your fingers with each word he says, each stroke of his hand over all eight inches of his cock. a far away voice registers that you’re whining, too, but your mind filters it away, tuned completely to suguru’s confession in the dark.
your smile is wry, and reveals as much as anything. “did it work?”
he laughs then, almost at you. “no, you know what dove, it didn’t really—hah—didn’t really work for me.”
your hips buck into your fingers, a buzzing coil now. “suguru,” you begin, but he doesn’t need to hear any more.
“i know,” he moans.
you have transcended his direction, you think, merged into him enough to comply without listening. he’s tearing his shirt and pants off as frantically as you tug your dress up and over your shoulders, and you’ve only barely shimmied your panties down your legs when he arrives in front of you, completely bare. you think suguru geto, tacky with sweat and need and cock nearly swollen purple, has achieved his own pinnacle, descending to his knees to meet you.
and there’s an ephemeral, fleeting moment, when you both simply watch each other in all the places you’ve kept obscured for so long. his eyes circle over your tits, the pert peaks of your nipples, the gleaming of your slit. you track the snake tattoo from the bulge of his shoulder and around his back, pupils flitting between him and his reflection.
suguru takes hold of both your ankles on each side of his narrows hips, squeezing once, and then gliding them up, up, around your knee, along the inside of your thighs. it dawns on you that he knows exactly where to press, where each muscle begins and ends, because of how much he watches you flex and extend. your breathing comes labored and round, small yips and whines when goosebumps push into his fingers.
he can’t help but tug your hips towards his bobbing cock when his hands arrive there. you squirm and twist to try and sink him inside but he holds you to the floor, jaw tight.
“not yet, dove, i need to stretch you,” he grunts.
and you’re giggling before you can stop it. “you use a lot of double entendre, is that on purpose?”
he’s smiling now, too, but more than anything you think its a wicked joy with how your mouth drops open as he circles two fingers around your entrance. your arousal is so hot and so everywhere that you think you can hear it dripping onto the marley.
“keep your legs open.” he uses the tone of voice he employs during class and it only makes you gush more, but you do as he asks, tightening your outer thighs to hold yourself spread as he pushes two fingers inside.
“oh fuck,” you pant.
it seems to affect him in equal measure, cock twitching with each pull of his digits, lips parted ever so slightly. he scissors his fingers apart and back again, feeling along the inside of your walls, looking.
“ah—yeah, yes, there,” you mewl, and he moans something sincere in turn. the pads of his fingers brush and swish along that spot and something behind your ribs is turning over, growing teeth. you whine out a small fuck and that’s it: suguru is gone.
in a single motion, he pulls his fingers from you, breathes in your protest of a whine, and lowers his hips to run the ruddy tip of his cock over your clit, down, down. you run your nose along his forearm as he braces them on each side of your head, feeling the brush of his hair along your shoulder.
his mouth parts directly over your ear like this, and you feel his hand squeeze your left thigh. “lift this for me.”
and as you extend it up to hook over his shoulder, legs spread in almost a full split below his hold, he notches his head inside, a lewd pop that echos up your spine and between your ears.
suguru’s head drops to your shoulder as he bares his teeth. “fuuuuuuck jesus christ.”
you’re no better, winding your right leg around his left and bucking your hips to slide him home. he indulges you this time—perhaps for the first time since meeting him—and cants his hips again. you’re so fucking wet and ready and open for him that he slides to the hilt that way, and both of you are reduced to animals then. the sounds between you are completely inhuman, and you can’t tell where yours end and his begin.
and suguru fucks you like he teaches: not slow, but intentional, precise, every movement with an insurmountable sense of purpose.
and fucking bossy.
“ngh yeah, squeeze me like that again, dove.”
“oh f-fuck, baby, align your hips.”
“c-can you—haah—arch into me a little more? yeah, that’s right.”
with each driving thrust of his hips you rub your clit along his pelvis, warmth spreading behind your belly button and down each leg. suguru never quite recovered from that first thrust, forehead damp and still at your shoulder as he groans directions into the soft skin there. and your hands grab anywhere they can reach: into the roots of his hair, down the planes of his back, along the slope of his ass to feel the muscles grind.
the friction his happy trail makes with your clit is driving you wild, you’re fucking close, and he can feel it in the way you pulse around him.
with the sudden capacity to mock you he coos gently, “oh, little dove, are you close?”
and you can only nod and pant and whine like a bitch in heat, the crest of your pleasure tapping leisurely on the wing of your shoulder, ready to round the corner.
“hah—yeah, i can fucking feel it.” he adjusts his weight to one arm so he can band the other around your back, pulling your tits flush to his chest. the leverage only grinds him harder into you and you’re nearly screeching with the pressure. he wants to kiss you and you want to return it, but your lips meet open, exchanging air to be puffed back and forth.
“make a mess for me,” he encourages, each thrust more erratic than the last—he’s close, too—and every moan pitched higher. “c’mon, i—shit, unh—i wanna feel your pussy choke me.”
you come so hard you feel like you’re spinning, like you’re on stage, like there’s some great applause awaiting you. it detaches from deep in your groin and pulses outwards, gushing arousal and cream over suguru’s cock and entirely fragmenting you, boneless as he fucks you through it.
“fuckfuckfuck,” he bites the juncture of your shoulder with your neck, “i made this body, dove. you’re mine, huh?”
and hearing it, even from his own lips, takes him over, too, hips stuttering to a stop as he growls wild, seed spurting inside you, warm. your name, your real name, unspools from his mouth, and it sounds like thank you.
part of you expects, sweaty and still and plugged with suguru’s softening cock, that a great shame will dawn upon you now. you think maybe you should feel ashamed for letting him fuck you here, raw, his student.
but as you’re whining into each other’s mouths when he pulls out, as he smooths his hands over your stomach and thighs, as he kisses you again without the sort of demands he had before, the guilt doesn’t arrive.
suguru watches you closely—he’s good at that, you’ve determined—as he sits back on his haunches. you realize he’s waiting for that guilt to come, too.
“okay?” he asks softly.
you could laugh at him for that question, but you grin instead. “mhm.”
his chest unburdens a weight seeing that look on your face. you can see something gathering on his palate, too, something he likes the taste of.
and then he spits it: “there’s a shower in my office bathroom.”
you really do laugh this time, full-bodied and sore and wet again.
~~~~~~~
you don’t think you’ve ever seen mr. geto with eye bags before. you don’t think anyone has. though, you suppose he seems the type to prioritize his beauty sleep.
or, most of the time, anyway. you couldn’t help that he wanted you again in the shower, and then at his desk chair, and then from behind with your knee propped against the barre, and then—
nobara bows into a pigeon stretch next to you, snickering as she assesses him in his seat. she heckles him: “exhausted is no state to dance in.”
your body seizes with embarrassment and delight all at once, and even though your chin drops to your chest as you stretch your hips, you can feel him watching you all the same.
nobara is watching you now, too, but you notice it too late. she stifles a giggle next to you. “is that a fucking hickey?”
~~~~~~~
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