Fuckboy Series Masterpost

Here's a hug!

-dabihawksluva

Thank you @dabihawksluva 🥹🙌

PAIRING: BAKUGOU KATSUKI X F! READER

WARNINGS: food play (ice cream) | nipple play | temperature play | oral sex

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

A/N: wrote this for myself as a warm up and ended up not writing what i was warming up for so i decided that you could read it too instead :) plus canva was being cooperative with banner making for once so i got excited, pls enjoy and hope this helps you cool off a bit from this horrid heat! ♡

It was a hot summer day as the sultry sun of Musutafu kissed your skin with its warmth. Laying on the chaise lounge chairs by the pool of your home while the upbeat yet chill melody from your favorite summer playlist vibrates through the speakers as you relax deeper into the cushions. The recent rise in temperatures had you feeling suffocated to the point of almost tears so you thought that a serene day by the pool with your husband could be refreshing for the both of you. Currently waiting for his return from the kitchen, where he went to get you both something to help you cool down further. Returning shortly with two vanilla ice cream popsicles you’d purchase earlier as he hands you one before sitting by your legs on the edge of the lounge.

Making quick work of it when he does as the popsicle was already melting under the weight of the sun, your fingers beginning to feel sticky as ice cream started to dribble down the wooden stick and onto your skin while your tongue lapped at the top, all while Katsuki watched - his own fingers getting coated in stickiness, as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever could, but something about you in the summertime always sparked a new wave of emotions when he's around you.

The warmth that radiated from your body along with the aroma of your sweat when he hugs you after a hot day, the little to none clothing exposing your skin allowing him to devour you with his eyes while doing mundane activities, finding you sprawled and passed out naked on the couch on random afternoons when he arrives home after a short shift, unable to resist you as he finds himself more and more infatuated with you with every passing day. 

Just as he is right now, completely hypnotized by you as his eyes roam every part of you, the thin layer of sweat along with the added shine of the sunscreen making your skin glow against the sunrays, the newly developed tanned bringing a different sparkle to your eyes every time you meet his, the way your bikini hugged every curve so perfectly, how the unruly hair accentuates your features in newfound ways. You probably found it all a nuisance, but in his eyes, he thought you looked ethereal.

And the more he observed, the more his swim shorts began to feel tighter against his frame, an occurrence that had become more common with the hot weather as he was sure his cock had a mind of its own every time he was near you. And when his eyes fixated on the way your tongue swirled around the tip of the popsicle, he found his throat going dry at the scene regardless of the ice cream quenching his thirst, but Katsuki was thirsty for something else. 

Smirk already plastered on his face when your eyes meet his again, a confused look adorning your features when you address him. 

“What's with that look?”, you ask before taking another swipe of your tongue to the ice cream. 

“Nothin', just looking at you”, taking a taste of his ice cream as well, catching the creamy liquid melting on the side with his tongue before it could fall on his hands.

You, on the other hand, were not as quick as you found yourself distracted with your lover, and now droplets of ice cream were falling against your chest. The icy touch of the sugary liquid gives you some relief against the scorching heat, yet still reaching for your towel to clean off. But a large hand wraps in yours before you could even reach it. 

“Allow me”, the gruff voice of your husband fills your ears over the music in the background as his hot breath hits your skin when he leans forward to lick at the spilled ice cream.

“Wouldn't want it to go to waste now, would we?”, he adds with a cheeky grin on his face, one that grows wider when you match it, already knowing where his antics are going.

Allowing another drop of ice cream to fall on your chest as he watches it trail down your skin, tilting his own popsicle over you for more to spill and travel along the valley of your breasts. Licking the sweet liquid up just before it could disappear behind the middle strap of your top as his fingers began to dawdle against it, slowly caressing the fabric while he admired the way it hugged the roundness of your tits. Giving one of them a small shake in his grip before running his fingers down your side to reach your back as you lift yourself a few inches from the cushions to allow him access, his digits tangling with the straps securing your top before slowly pulling them loose. Causing the fabric to teasingly slip from your skin and reveal your pretty tits to him. 

His mouth watering at the sight as his cock now strains fully erect in his shorts, feeling it jump when you settle back against the cushions once more, tilting your head with a new lust-filled glint in your eyes as you bring the melting popsicle down to your nipple, circling it as it begins to pebble under the cold sensation. An amused cough resonating from your husband’s throat as he stares in awe at the small show you're putting for him.

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me one day, woman”, he laughs before diving into the inviting treat. Lips wrapping around you as his tongue makes quick work at licking the sugary liquid against your skin, causing a moan to rumble in your throat from the delicious contrast in temperatures. The ice cold touch of the ice cream mixed with the sultry hotness of his mouth has your stomach flooding with an array of emotions as arousal begins to pool at your core. 

Tilting the popsicle in his hands over your skin again, as the neglected dessert pours down onto you and travels past your chest and along your abdomen with Katsuki’s hungry tongue following shortly until the liquid pools at your belly button, filling it up before his tongue delves inside.

Vermillion irises finding a newfound captivation when they fixate on the wet patch of your bikini as he lowers himself to press his nose against the fabric and take a long inhale of your soaked pussy through it. Eyes rolling to the back of his head behind closed lids while his hand reaches for the knotted straps that lay pretty against your hips whilst you reach for the other one with your free hand, feeling desperate to feel his tongue devouring your skin once more.

And when your cunt is finally revealed to him, he feels he might do just that, devour you whole. With the way your pretty pussy glistens under the sun and those lustful eyes you're shooting at him, the carnal need to have you coming undone on his tongue for the neighbors to hear rapidly builds inside him. 

But not before teasing you a bit as he settles between your legs, broad hand pressing against the back of your thigh to encourage them to spread further for him, admiring the pretty view before slowly pressing the melting popsicle against your clit. The sudden rush of cold makes you moan as he circles the growing nub with it, covering it with cream before leisurely dragging it down through your folds as droplets begin to run down your skin and pool at your rear for the cushions to absorb. 

Lifting the popsicle from your skin but letting it hover above your cunt for it to continue melting onto you as he takes a moment to admire your pussy covered in smooth white before diving in to lap at the sticky mess. His hot breath working to bring you closer to the edge as the knot in your stomach builds when he speaks against you.

“Hold still, beautiful… gotta clean you up”, he growls into your pussy as he hungrily licks and sucks at the creamy sweetness from both the ice cream and the flow of juices that rushes out of your cunt when the knot inside of you finally bursts and you gush right into his awaiting tongue as he eagerly swallows your release. 

The melody of your moans filling the space leaves a satisfied smirk on his face while he licks the remaining ice cream from your skin as he is sure that the neighbors probably heard how good he makes you feel.

The soft pads of your fingers against his blonde locks urging him forward is the only thing that stops his hypnotized licking as he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit, a habit of his as a way of saying goodbye for now to his favorite meal, before crawling over your body to capture your lips in his. Tasting your release mixed with the ice cream on his tongue as you continue kissing while slowly lifting up from the lounge to flip your bodies so that Katsuki could now lay against it while you straddled him. 

The ice cream in your hands now dripping over his chest as you feel his breath hitch against your lips with each drop, causing you to smirk into him before releasing a giggle when you feel cool and sticky fingers travel up your thigh towards your rear following a light spank to it. Breaking the kiss to trail kisses down his chin and along his neck, the subtle scratch of his incoming stubble tickling your lips as you continue to travel down his chest where the ice cream is as your eyes look for his to find them already on you before your tongue darts out to lick away at the sweet liquid.

A groan threatening to escape from deep in his chest when your hot tongue laps at the cold fluids mixing with his sweat as warmth returns to his skin from how aroused your wet touch is making him, his cock feels like it might burn through the fabric of his swim shorts the more it twitches against it, fighting for some release. 

And when your hand travels down the contour of his muscular chest, your nails gently scraping against his skin as they travel down the curves of his abs onto the waistband of his shorts to press against his clothed cock, he can't contain the moan that vibrates from his throat - his resolve always so easily weakened when it came to you and being under your curious touch - as his thighs begin to clench when you apply more pressure to the palm of your hand whilst rubbing his throbbing cock through his shorts, the heat radiating from it making you smile against him, finding it amusing how turned on he could get when you took the lead like this.   

“Fuck, baby - you're heating up”, you whisper against the juncture of his neck as you press your lips onto his warm skin, trailing kisses up towards his ears, the tips of them red under the weight of the sun.

“Let me cool you down, yeah?”, sucking his earlobe into your mouth, the skin feeling hotter than his body against your lips as you swipe your tongue on the delicate skin before leaning down to settle between his legs, not wanting your teasing to outlive the fleeting lifespan of the melting ice cream in your hand.

Your fingers hooking around the waist band of the swim shorts as you begin to pull it down from one side while he aids you on the other, his popsicle long gone under the heat of the moment. When his cock is finally released, the thick vein of the underside of his shaft is already throbbing with need, leading up to an alluring red tip adorned with a steady flow of precum that travels down his cock to pool around the base - so wet and needy you can't help the rush of drool that threatens to spill past your lips at the delicious sight.

Sneaking a small lick to his tip to get a quick taste of it before the vanilla overpowers it. Sucking the remaining ice cream into your mouth before discarding the wooden stick on the cushion next to you so your hands could grip at his warm thighs as you tilt your head back for the creamy glob of white to lay on your tongue as you press against the top of his pulsing balls and slowly drag it up his shaft. A hiss escaping him when the cold mixture hits his sensitive skin before a wanton moan erupts from him when you wrap your mouth around his hot tip. 

The difference in temperature driving him insane as he feels he might cum at any moment, Bakugou never thought the feeling of your mouth could get any better, but low and behold he was mistaken.

Making quick work of his cock before the ice cream completely melted in your mouth, you press your tongue against the throbbing vein of his cock as you take him deep in your throat, the ice cream working in your favor to take his full length while your sticky hands massage his heavy balls, something that always worked wonders when bringing your lover closer to the edge. 

And with the way you were devouring his cock, the flood of arousal in his gut bursted as soon as it built, the wet noises of your mouth slurping on the sweet cool liquid dripping past your lips and down his balls in your warm grasp while his tip rubs against your hot throat is the last push he needs as his fingers tangle with the damp hairs at your nape to press you against him as he buries his cock deep inside of you. A river of creamy white filling your mouth between the ice cream and his cum as rope after rope of hot release stains your throat. Swallowing every drop the best that you could while savoring the tasty mixture of sweet and salty against your tongue. His hips thrusting with every drop that's spilled into you before they slowly settle back down onto the cushions.

Blunt nails gently draw circles on the back of your head as he slowly pulls you off of his cock, a creamy string of saliva connecting you as you slurp it while following it towards his tip where you press your lips in a sloppy kiss, your own way of saying a temporary farewell to your favorite treat before his hand urges you forward to lay on his chest. Bodies sweaty and sticky as the faint smell of vanilla and sunscreen fills the air, while Katsuki cradles your face in his palms.

His thumb brushing away a stray tear of your temple as he takes a moment to admire the hazy look you get after sucking his cock, your pupils almost in the shape of hearts and Katsuki swears it might just be one of his favorite views before pulling you close to press his lips against yours to taste himself on your savory tongue. Deciding to remain wrapped against each other a while longer under the warmth of the sun before heading inside to wash away the muggy feeling before dinner.

Stay

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : You are hopeful, you are exhausted, and you want Five to stay.

Warning : None.

Is this how it will always be?

This constant tug of coming and going, but never staying.

"Can't you stay for a little longer?"

Five sighs. Tired gaze settling on you. "You know I can't."

Can't or won't? You bite the retort back.

You met Five in a coffee shop a few months back. A conversation over black coffee was the start of it all, and now here you are, stretching at the seams of what you want and what he can give.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I understand," you reassure.

And you do. His father, the academy, his duty, his family, you understand it all.

You just wish there to be a small corner in his heart for you.

You hope, with time, he will stay.

•••

"We have talked about this," Five argues.

No, we haven't. You talked about it and I listened.

"Is ten minutes more, asking for too much?" Frowning, you peer at him.

"I can't," he states, voice curt.

"Can't or won't?" You retort sharply.

You both aren't who you were when you met over coffee. It's been…you don't even remember how long it's been since you've known him. But you know, it's been long enough to hurt.

"You think if I'd the choice to stay, I wouldn't?" he fumes, glare infusing into his eyes as he stalks towards you.

You've never done it before, what do I know?

"I—"

His hands grip your shoulder, firm and unyielding. "I would."

He says it with such conviction that you believe him.

Desolation wraps around your lips and curls up. A smile bitten out of your heart, you offer it up to him on a platter.

And when he leaves, you hope the next time he will stay.

•••

"I can't do this anymore."

Your whisper is a proclamation. A despairing sound crossing over the chasm of silence between you and him, carried across by the bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love.

It's been years upon years of you consciously hiding behind the carefully crafted walls of ignorance and delusion. No more can you muster the strength to hold them up.

"Don't say that," the crack of his voice mirrors the one in your heart.

"I can't keep doing this," exhaustion slips past your lips, you hope it drains him.

"Just give me—"

"No," you cut him off. "Give, give, give, that's all I have been doing, that's all I have ever done. Don't you see?"

He walks around your bed, towards where you stand— by the window.

Once he's near enough, he lifts his hand to touch you, or embrace you, or calm you, but you turn away, so he thinks better of it.

"I'm sorry."

He's always sorry.

When you used to spend all those late nights or afternoons with him, listening to him, you'd deduced that apology wasn't something he was a master of unlike all other subjects.

You'd thought that apologies were a delicacy when it came to him. How wrong you were.

"Please, I can't do this without you," he's pleading, and yet it's not enough to stir the sympathy within. You want to cry all the same.

"No, Five, I can't do this. I can't let you do this to me anymore."

You keep gazing out of your window, so you don't have to see him.

Nature is a contrast of you. The air is dry, your eyes are not, the leaves aren't rustling, but your being is, the moon is full and yet, you're waning.

The night is the only comfort, reflecting the endless abyss you've fallen into.

He shakes his head, and with it all the semblance of acceptance. "No. Look me in the eye and say that."

So, you do. And you see.

In the depth of his eyes you see an unsettled ocean, oh how deep have you been drowning in them. The more you hold his gaze, the more you realize.

You cannot breathe.

You look away, if you keep looking into those eyes you'll surely suffocate.

"You can't, can you?" It's not a question. An observation. A declaration. It's Five Hargreeves arrogance.

"Your eyes suffocate me." You hope it hurts. "Your presence suffocates me." This time, when you look at him, you hold his stare.

"You don't mean that," the pain that invades your ears snaps you back. Not entirely. No. But just enough for the string tying his heart to yours to burn in agony.

The bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love is in ruins, and ruins rot, and you can't let them destroy you alongside. Ruins must burn.

"I do."

You burn the bridge.

The hush that falls after your decision is one that consists of broken shards, sharp enough to cut, to draw blood.

And they do. There's blood in your ear, copper in your mouth. Seconds tick by and in the torturous quiet you and Five both bleed together.

This is how the moon must feel—hopeless and splintered and wholly caged—when gazing down at those who cry under moonlight.

"I should leave."

The air near him shifts closer to you for a fleeting moment and then draws back.

"Five?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't come back unless you plan to stay."

He doesn't reply. Makes no promises. Just leaves.

And you?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

•••

When you come home, the first thing you notice is the air.

The air feels more welcoming, more mellow. As though the stagnant rust that had dried over the molecules has finally been stripped ; renewing everything.

Your eyes linger on the open door of your bedroom.

Breath in. Breath out.

Giving yourself a moment or two, to let the overwrought heart still, and the agitation in nerves to abate.

Silent are your steps as you tread across the living room towards the open door.

And there he is.

Five Hargreeves does everything in the proper way, cannot fathom doing anything in a way he considers less than perfect.

His presence isn't a surprise.

How could it be? When he'd announced it in bold calligraphy over rose-scented parchment saying, "I'm coming home."

Your gaze sweeps over to him.

Leaning against the open window, with his head tilted up and eyes closed. The afternoon sun shines down on him in sublimity, golden rays weaving through the lining of his skin.

He looks like home.

"It's been eight months."

The silvery thread of your voice tugs at him, unfurling the ocean of his eyes that you used to drown in.

"I know."

You fold your arms. "Bit arrogant of you to presume we could just pick up right where we left off."

"I don't presume." He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know."

"Oh?" You raise a mocking brow. "Is that so?"

"I have lived your love." His words are laced in nostalgia, it splashes on your face. "I have known your love. I know your love. And maybe, maybe I'm being arrogant here, but this arrogance comes from confidence, from belief in your love."

"I am tired, Five." So is my love.

There are more words you wish to say, however they are a jumbled mess. It doesn't matter because the softness of his eyes says that he understands.

"I have always fallen back on you, known that no matter what you will always be there. I'm here so that, you know, you can fall back on me now."

You sway on your feet. Warm tears eclipse your eyes. You step closer to him.

"And you won't leave?"

"I'm here. I'm here to stay." He extends his hand, the curl of his lips, the shine of his eyes, everything left open and raw for you to see.

And what you see is the promise of comfort and rest. Of peace and love. Of him and you.

So, you take his hand. And he pulls you in an embrace.

You meet him like the first rain after a dry spell. Like the cold droplets falling over the burning earth, soothing and mending the cracks. Except you both are the drought and the rain— you're his drought as he's yours, and he's your rain, as you're his.

I'm home, you think, as his hands envelop you entirely, while your come to rest upon his chest.

Heart sagging as it lets go of exhaustion. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds shelter in the nook of your shoulder.

Together, you succumb into each other.

Melding and merging with every breath, the essence spilling over. A game of hide and seek without the need to seek because you've already found each other. But you are hiding, somewhere near the core of your respective beings, finding solace by the soul.

There's much to talk about. But not now. For now, you're tranquil beneath the mirage that there's no one but you and Five in the world.

Sighing, you nestle into him.

Is this how it will always be?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

..................................................................................

A/N :

This one was inspired by the exhaustion I felt. Some abstract exhaustion that made me want to just succumb into someone.

And then I remembered this quote by Kafka— "I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore."

And I thought, well there's no one to hide face in other than the pillow, but let's create something out of it! So yeah channelled all that into this.

It's a bit heavy on the prose...yeah I think the Sandman fic I'm working on has something to do with that.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

pairing: suna x f!reader

warnings: angst, toxic!suna, suggestive themes(?), destruction of property, glass breaking, manipulation

summary: suna knew that he was doing something wrong, but he refused to acknowledge it. therefore, you slowly dropped five major hints for him, hoping that he would notice them and take action to fix your broken relationship.

status: complete

taglist status: closed! fcygh is over!

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

chapters

part one: the ghost of your laughter

part two: lingering touches

part three: limited interactions

part four: sleeping alone

part five: rin became rintarou; then it became suna

|| m.list || part I || part II ||

⇢ pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

⇢ chapter: part III of III

⇢ rating: e, 18+

⇢ word count: 19,678 [ao3]

⇢ warnings: hybrids, mildly dubious consent, biting, blood, knotting, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (fem receiving)

⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, aged up characters, slow burn, bed sharing

⇢ notes: please note the new warnings and tags before reading 

⇢ summary:

After the attack, the relationship between you and your hybrid Bakugo continues to grow closer and stronger. As it does, you can’t help but feel like the two of you are heading down an inevitable, slippery path towards something you can’t take back, until finally, you can’t bring yourself to fight it any longer. 

Keep reading

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: implied and/or present elements of dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, quirkless reader, mentioned death of important character, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, mentions of hypochondriasis, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ gn reader

Sharp crimson eyes assess the fresh scrapes and swelling ruining your soft skin. A deep scowl on his face.

“Tch—look at all this…” he grumbles disapprovingly to no one but himself—too upset with you to acknowledge you, yet treating you no different than if you were glass. “These are gonna last weeks.”

You’d tried running away again—tripped and slipped up all on your own, stumbling through hallways and tumbling down stairs in your panic, only to stop short at the locked door—bolted and padlocked beyond all sane reason.

He was disappointed with you, sure. But that’s not the reason for his current anger.

“Sit there while I get bandages,” he orders, getting up from his crouch, pointing a strict finger at you in threat. “Dare move, and it’ll be bed rest for a whole ‘nother week.”

Bakugou’s obsession with your quirkless nature started a couple of months ago…

It was okay at first—he was hardly the first person you’d met who addressed you with patronizing resolve—but he got weird about it quickly.

You worked at another hero agency he was going to be collaborating with for a big upcoming mission. You weren’t a sidekick or anything grand like that, but a simple pencil-pusher—because they need those too, you know? And you liked your job. You got to work along with some of the greatest heroes in the world, see them up close, and help them out with those things they didn’t have time for—paperwork like budget justifications and incidence reports. Yeah, you might have been somewhat of a pushover, but hey, the salary was good, the environment was lively, and even though you don’t have one yourself, you got to see some really amazing quirks in action. It was, out of what you could hope for, your dream job.

The place was in a real buzz when they heard the number one hero would be joining them for a couple of months. You were excited, too—it wasn’t often your smaller agency would undertake big missions—especially not ones that required such big hero names.

DynaMight wasn’t one to share much of anyone’s enthusiasm. He was strict and down to business and otherwise had a major pet peeve for unnecessary rabble loitering around. He’d stopped mid-meeting at the sight of you, seeing as you were obviously no fieldworker, and had gone as far as to demand you tell him your value as if your presence had been some big distracting nuisance.

Luckily, your Pro-Hero coworkers had stepped in on your behalf and told him you were a transcriber keeping track for later reference. It was probably only a slip-up that they’d added the fact that you were quirkless.

You don’t hold it against them, or well… you did a little, but you couldn’t really blame them either. Evoking the explosion hero’s rage must have made them flustered and desperate to play any sympathy card available to them in the spur of the moment.

Of course, it wasn’t their card to play, nor would you ever have played it yourself, but if the humility was worth anything, it successfully managed to calm the top hero down. Actually, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. And if you hadn’t been so busy taking notes, you would have noticed his lingering stare.

A couple more incidents had occurred in the office after that. Among others, he’d caught an incoming paper airplane your coworker had thrown your way—stepped right in out of nowhere and cremated it with a controlled explosion before it could hit you.

You’d been speechless for a moment—the entire desk area along with you—confused by his strangeness and, at least in your case, even somewhat appalled by his utter lack of consideration—in your office space, no less. Seriously, top hero or not, you can’t just barge in and incinerate stuff?

“That was an important document,” you'd informed—brow quirked—no regard to how offending him could probably make grounds to have you fired. You'd only slightly regretted it after having said it. But geez, you thought—shouldn’t the top hero have some semblance worth of self-control?

“You shouldn’t be playing around,” he'd stated—tone just as sour as the stink of burned paper tainting the air. “Someone might get hurt.”

You’d almost scoffed at him but had held your tongue until he walked away.

Back then, you’d thought it was an offhand insult directed at you and your respected coworker—that the explosion hero had just called you both unprofessional to your faces, like the biggest scumbag to ever walk in through your humble doors. But looking back at it now, you realize he probably might have meant it in its most sincere regard.

His over-protectiveness knows no limit, you’ve learned—calling it patronizing would be a joke in comparison. He treats you as if anything in proximity might make you shatter by association—like a bubble made from the most thinned-out solution of water and soap.

You’d woken up in your well-prepared pillow room shortly after your agency’s collaboration with DynaMight had ended. It didn’t take long for you to piece together his sickness after that.

At first, you’d thought it was a more severe case of benevolent discrimination. After all, most people treat you with some amount of pity after being privy to your being quirkless—treating it no less than a disability of sorts.

But Bakugou’s view of you was increasingly more unsettling than that—suffering from some type of delusion that has him fully convinced you’re utterly inept without him.

In some odd ways, it would have been better if he was just faking—if he was doing it all, treating you as an inferior for some sick sense of deriving his own sadistic pleasure. But no, you think he actually fully and whole-heartedly believes you’re a danger to yourself and that anything, if not monitored in the perfect conditions of the controlled environment he’s established for you, will result in your fatal illness or harm.

He’s a full-sworn hypochondriac concerning you—even as he himself dregs home some of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen as if it were nothing but a splinter in the rough of his worn soles. Meanwhile, he’s scared that if you leave the bed without socks on, it will give you pneumonia.

You were sure you had a couple of control freaks at the agency, but nothing measures up to Bakugou’s mania. How he dresses you is one thing—how he feeds you is another. An assortment of pills first, all vitamins and supplements, a spoon of cod liver oil, then a balanced meal reminding you of those tragic trays you’re served at the hospital—four times a day without fail—breakfast, lunch, dinner, then supper—he also keeps track of all the water he’s decided you need to drink—all things perfectly regulated according to your size and age.

Then there’s the sleep schedule with a set number of eight hours—no more and no less. Exercise is also necessary—workout plans designed and dictated by him. Nothing too severe, though—he’s afraid your quirkless constitution won’t be able to handle anything beyond thirty minutes max.

And then, of course, there’s hygiene.

You sobbed and fought hysterically the first time he’d washed you—in the tub with him after he’d stripped you naked. In fact, you’d made such a fuss he’d had to fetch a sedative.

Even in your drowsed state of complete numb delirium, you’d still heard how he’d fretted over it—the tiny needle hole he’d torn in your arm—as if that was the real violation, even as he’d thoroughly molested the entirety of your body with different cloths and sponges for no shorter than a full hour.

You’d been terrified, of course—horrified by his meticulous routines and odd nature. Yet strangely, despite his rigid rules, he won't ever get violent to enforce them.

You had expected it of him—being known for his brutality—the hero without mercy—the symbol of retribution. You know he's no stranger to leaving the battlefield bloody. But with you, he won't so much as harm a single strand of hair from your head.

He will instead bargain with you, sometimes for hours. Eat what he tells you, and you’ll watch a movie afterward. Go to sleep, and he'll escort you out to see the sun for a few hours in the morning. Let him ensure you wash correctly, and he’ll allow you to dry and dress yourself.  

And in those moments when you leave him no other option, he subdues you through the help of a needle again and never ever by manhandling you—it was as if that weren’t even a viable option. It was obvious he regarded the sedative as the uttermost last resort, always muttering on about chemicals and whatnot under his breath. It seemed he would rather avoid it at all costs—but also, that if it stood between allowing the disturbance of the schedule he felt was needed to keep you healthy and forcibly putting you to sleep, he knew without a doubt which option he considered the lesser evil.

He was certain of it all. And at some point or another… you had even begun sharing his fear of attracting some sort of illness yourself—even something so small as a common cold. But no, it wasn’t the same. Yours was not a fear of the actual disease itself but of what he might do if he caught you sneezing and coughing. You could only imagine the upgraded pill table he’d have in store for you then and what other measures he’d instill due to his excessive ideas of necessity.

And that’s why you’d tried running again even after what must have been a couple of months since the last time. The thought of his inane insanity having affected you so badly you’d started playing along was all too much a painful realization—you’d felt compelled to reject it—run away even when you knew you’d never be able to make the door open if you could even reach it.

You knew it would be in vain, and even though running headfirst into something you know isn’t going to work might be the first signs of madness—you’re still relieved to have found some remaining worth of fight still in you, even if it couldn’t amount to anything.

He comes back as quickly as he’d left, still muttering to himself, cross about the damage you’ve sustained—like you’re one of the collector’s items he keeps up on the mantle in his office—green costume and a big bright smile. You remember the exposés—they’d been rather gruesome, about the hero who’d died in battle not so long ago—a couple of years back now, give or take. He had the number-one spot before DynaMight.

The current top hero retakes his spot at your feet, sighing deeply once he starts dabbing your minor bruises with disinfectant, followed by unnecessary bandages. You’re silent as you watch him work—all so diligently as he does everything, cutting no corners and running zero lights.

His efforts, done with the very epitome of care, all disgust you.

Your lip curls. “I’m not what you think I am…”

His keen glare stops obsessing over your wounds to look up at your face—he’d already tended to the ones he could see, but he’s sure more would blossom and swell in a couple of hours. It’s beyond worrisome—but it’s his fault in any case. He should move you to a place without stairs—it’s way too dangerous for someone as accident-prone as you.

You make eye contact, and his anger fades at the sight of tears welling in your corners—softening as if he’s convinced even a harsh look will have you shatter in his hands.

“I’m quirkless. But ’m not weak.” You’re sure you preached much of the same back at the beginning of your stay, though then you’d hurdled it at him—screamed it from the top of your lungs until you’d lost your voice, unknowing that it’s a statement he’s heard a hundred times over spoken by different lips from yours.

It’s a funny thing almost… how your eyes remind him of his—so soft and yet brimming with determination—a determination that will only get you killed.

He’d put faith in those words before, believed them beyond himself, and it had cost him everything.

But even so, he can’t fault you for believing in them yourself… they’re what makes him love you, after all.

He smiles gently—a most gut-churning sight from the all-scowling man.

“I’m sure you think so.”

He doesn’t relay it with any type of harshness but pity—gross concern and better judgment—overwhelming oodles of it in his garnet eyes, weighing them down with something so awful as compassion and… you don’t exactly know… but it looks like grief.

♡ part two ♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

A Mutual Hatred

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

finally kicking out the fic that’s been a draft for three years:) ahaha…aha…ha if its obvious this was written for another character…no it wasn’t

(Warnings: implied non-con, implied drugging, college!AU, dark content)

Gojo Satoru did not like you. 

He didn’t make it obvious. But, you could see the way he slowly inched away from you. And the fake fake smile he stretched on his lips anytime he was forced to talk to you. 

It was a little offensive. You never obsessed about people liking you, but the fact that someone super popular would rather not exist when you were around…well, it stung. 

It could’ve been worse. At least he didn’t openly admit his hatred of you. It was just the tiny, little things he did that made you know there were boundaries. 

But you weren’t Gojo’s friend, you were Geto’s friend. Which meant, as much as you’d rather not to go the party celebrating their latest win, you were still dragged anyway. 

Keep reading

soft boyfriend headcanons with Gojo plez🥺

Gojo Satoru ! Boyfriend Headcanons

TW: tons of fluff ig, Set in a real-life au

fem reader

EARLY STAGES OF THE RELATIONSHIP

He’s not joking when he says it was love at first sight.

But, obviously, you brush him off as a total player.

Not convinced by his confession in the slightest, you reject him multiple times.

Like, come on… that’s the school’s number one pretty boy, known for having a new girl on his arm every other week or so. You have absolutely zero ambition of being one of them.

You laugh at all his silly gestures—dumb pick-up lines at parties, flowers, chocolates, and letters in your locker, flirty passerby compliments to and from in between classes. 

Oh, but then, cue the grandest of all gestures…

The public massive confession with banners, confetti, a lovesong in the background, and him with a megaphone in the middle of campus—professing his undying crush on you—down on both knees while begging you, “Please go out with me!”

You’ve never been more embarrassed in all your life. You feel like running away, but how could you say no in front of so many people?

And that’s how you end up on the first date with him.

He takes you to an amusement park.

You haven’t been in ages. It feels strange to be there on a date, older than any of the other kids you see running around with stressed parents on their heels.

It feels like a prank is being pulled. You’re waiting for the pig’s blood to fall. But halfway through, you somehow end up forgetting all about it.

To your surprise, Gojo actually seems like quite a genuine guy.

Sure, he’s more charm and flirt than deep conversation, but… you don’t know… there’s something really amazing about him too…

He doesn’t do anything inappropriate. 

The farthest he goes is holding your hand when pulling you along to the next rollercoaster. And asks to have a taste of your ice cream. He tells you that you have to name the plushie he won for you, Satoru—then pokes fun at how he tricked you into finally calling him by his first name.

It's funny, but you’d always thought Satoru was a pigheaded jerk, but it turns out he’s actually just a silly boy.

And there’s something really endearing about it.

It scares you at first—how fast and easily you fell in love with him.

You hadn’t wanted to—scared he’d drop you like he’d done all those other girls who came before you.

But then you find out—he hasn’t really dated anyone at all—all rumors made by those obsessed with him.

Sure, he’s been confessed to plenty of times, but he’s not about to jump into a relationship with girls he’s never even seen before.

That would be crazy.

“In all honesty, girls like that kinda scare me…”

You realize your perception of Gojo Satoru couldn’t have been any more wrong.

And you only stand to be corrected again and again the more you get to know him better.

He’s the boy version of “I’m not like other girls”

He doesn’t like meat, he likes sweets—for every meal. It’s concerning. 2 am convenience store runs are a constant occurrence with him. It’s a wonder he’s got the body he has—it’s that boy metabolism.

At parties, he doesn’t drink beer, he’ll drink little syrupy things instead. Oh, and jello shots. If they’re all gone, bet that most of than are in Gojo’s stomach.

But he doesn’t need to be drunk to be clingy and cuddly and needy and not afraid to show it. However, he does get sloppier after drinking—all but draping you with his entire weight, kissing any part of you he can get his lips on.

He confesses his love for you every day, hugs you every time he sees you, then whines about how he’s missed you—even when it’s just been a handful of hours since the last time you saw each other.

When Geto tells the two of you to get a room, Satoru only looks at him sourly and sticks his tongue out—blowing raspberries like a child.

And probably the most surprising…

He loves anime and manga.

Which isn’t really too much of a surprise in and of itself, only… you didn’t realize the extent of his love. In fact, it’s better called an obsession.

He isn't a cool guy at all...

He's a total nerd!

The first time you see his dorm room—it’s a total mess!

Manga literally litters the floor and bed, even the tall bookshelf he has is prop full.

What’s even more surprising is that Shonen Jump isn’t in the majority. No, it’s Shōjo.

He tells you his favorite anime is Ouran High School Host Club and insists you watch it with him. 

He sings the entire intro almost every single time—sometimes even the outro.

He says he identifies with the main character—which he obviously feels is Tamaki.

“You’d make a cute Haruhi, though—we should cosplay for Halloween~”

And he’s not even joking. He’s bought the costumes before you even agree.

Of course, no one understands who the two of you are supposed to be—dressed in the same school uniforms like two twins.

You also discover his harbored hatred for horror manga. Junji Ito gives him nightmares.

Though you managed to get him to read Death Note after pushing it on him for months.

He’s so cute—his only takeaway isn’t about the juxtaposing philosophies or any of the moral dilemmas but how “Suguru is so Light, and I’m definitely L.”

You find he’ll always do that—dib characters, almost always the main one.

It's a habit that reminds you of childhood, but it seems more than instinctual for Satoru. You don’t think he’ll ever grow out of it.

When he tells you he wants to be a teacher, you look at him with moon-big eyes.

He’s never seemed any interested in school—his grades are subpar, if not worse.

He never studies. There are no textbooks or the like on his desk, just more figurines and comics, as well as a dusty gaming station.

But when you take a second to think about it, the more it actually makes sense.

He's strangely great with kids. The girls all squeal over his charm, while the boys all cheer over his coolness.

You tell him he’ll be a great teacher, and he proposes to you on the spot.

SOME TIME INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

Obviously, you didn’t marry him back then. But you did finally accept being his girlfriend.

You live together now. Which is nice—not so different from living with your best friend.

Movie nights with candy and drinks—you’ve managed to sway him over to enjoy whine.

Rearranging things at home on a whim—often ending with a stupid layout—couch in the kitchen, where it will stay for a couple of days before you both find the energy to move it back.

You go shopping together and often end up buying things that don’t at all fit with the rest of the stuff at home—artwork, pillows, silly little decorations you just couldn’t leave the store without.

You share a lot of clothes too—hoodies, shirts, sweaters. Which he just loves.

He’s always gushing over you when you wear something he wore the day before.

He’s an ok cook. He can make the basics—wok, curry, ramen. His onigiri is never anything to post about, but hey, at least he actually cooks!

The clean-up is well… never small.

It doesn’t help that he’s always so sleepy after a proper meal, he just tugs you along to bed without putting the washer on.

Sleeping with you in his arms—all limbs tangled around you.

It’s funny, but you’d think with such a clingy lover-boy like Satoru, he’d come with a side of jealousy, but truly, you’ve never ever once seen that shade on him.

He’s excellent with all your friends and colleagues, even old friends and boyfriends you run into.

Instead of jealousy, he has this air of total ease—a certain smugness in a sense—as if there is nothing to worry about.

It's a trust that he puts in you—a quality that makes him seem so mature even when he often acts anything but.

Being with Satoru is strange. You often forget how old the two of you are. Somehow, he still acts the same way he did when he was in high school.

Taking you on amusement park dates, or to the movies to watch a children's film, or for ice cream in the park like you’re still teenagers.

He did end up becoming a teacher, though. Gojo Sensei.

Sometimes, he makes you call him that in the bedroom.

He teaches at the same high school you went to. He even brought home a girl’s uniform for you to wear.

You told him he was crazy if he thought you’d agree to that, but then… it was his only birthday wish. 

“You’re just as cute as you were back then—I can’t believe you’ve stuck with me all this time—I love you so much—”

Ten years older, and he really hasn’t aged much at all... 

Sometimes, he still cums in his pants after dry-humping.

Surprisingly, he really pulled his act together to teach both physics and gymnastics while sometimes subbing for philosophy.

It’s crazy, but he actually manages to make physics fun for the students. Several of them, even after graduation, still keep in touch.

It almost feels like the two of you already have kids.

But, of course, it’s nothing compared to when you actually see those two blue lines signaling your pregnancy.

You’re alone in the bathroom, rereading the instructions over and over. 

You hadn’t wanted to tell Satoru—he’d only insist on watching you pee and being there for the entirety of it. But now that you know for certain it wasn’t just a hunch, you really wished he was in there with you.

“TORU!” you yell.

You hear the struggle of slippery steps as he rushes, coming bursting inside in seconds. “What!?! What is it?! Are you okay?!?”

You only hold up the pregnancy test you’d kept secret you’d bought.

His eyes are as wide as they’d been when you’d agreed to move in with him.

“We’re pregnant?” he all but cheers.

The smile that erupts on his face is nothing short of ecstatic as he kneels before the toilet you’re sitting on, hands holding your thighs as he buries his face between them, chanting “Oh my god, ohmygod, omigod—” between kisses. “You’re serious? We’re really pregnant?”

When he looks up, he’s crying. “That’s so great—”

You have to cup his face in your hands for him not to fall apart.

And the sight is all so reassuring, you have to laugh through the tears on your own face.

You spent the entire day in bed. Satoru with his cheek against your belly and arms wrapped around you, and you with your hands running through his hair as you both discuss baby names.

Surprisingly, it had come as a complete surprise. Not just being pregnant, but the entire gist of it—having kids. 

Both of you have been so wrapped up in each other for the longest time—the thought of any other party had been completely lost.

On the other hand, you haven’t even gotten married yet.

Satoru doesn’t even have a ring, but he proposes to you then anyway.

And even though it’s so impromptu you have to laugh, you still say yes.

After all, you haven’t been able to imagine your life without Satoru for a long time.

Actually, you can’t even remember ever living a life without him.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

As You Command Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Dragon king! Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Since you were children, Prince Bakugou has taken a special interest in making your life as hellish as possible. As his future advisor, it's your job to grin and bear it, no matter how much you wish you could teach him a lesson. When the chance for you to leave the kingdom presents itself and the Prince stops it, you're sure it's just another one of his poorly planned pranks that will end badly for the both of you. But could there be more to his actions than you realize?

Genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, romance

Series Warnings: (I will add specific warnings to each chapter) this series will contain smut, cursing, violence, kidnapping, character death, drinking, and may mention dark themes (non-con/dub-con)

Based off this blurb

Schedule:

Chapter 1: February 1st

Chapter 2: February 7th

A Palace Romance: Gojo x Reader Royalty AU

masterlist

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. when you finally come of age and move into his palace, the two of you are forced to spend time together. read along to watch the love unfold <3

a.n: welcome to my super fluffy gojo series! something sweet meant for you to read while you giggle and kick your feet <3

part I: a fated meeting

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741187890203197440/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-summary-you-are-a?source=share

part II: a midnight sweet

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741369546371366912/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part III: a cold warm evening

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/745410714328563712/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part IV: a heartfelt hug

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/746992704466092032/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part V: a confession

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/752028381986586624/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-part-v?source=share

and more to come!