F1 Racer!satoru 💭🏎️

JUST FOR YOU (6.2K)

— viking!bakugou x f!reader

synopsis: your childhood best friend also known as your tailor comes to visit! bakugou doesn’t trust him at all.

warnings: 18+ content, minors don't interact, ageless blogs don't interact, female reader, referred to: (baby, my lady), arranged marriage, lovey dovey, 69, unprotected sex, fingering (f), p to v, chief kink lol, whole load of kissing, big three: (angst, fluff, smut), jealousy, mentions of violence, viking themes are light and inspired, modern language.

notes: PART FOUR to FOR YOU MY VIKING BKG SERIES!! can be read as a standalone. if there’s typos this was a one man job! thank u kanye for that one line, i had to steal it. lets go girls.

forget everything you said before. fiancé, almost wed life, was fun. dreamlike. a fantasy come to life. your fiancé, head chief of your new village bakugou katsuki, or to you, ‘ki, drags you into the warm cocoon of his arms all while being half asleep.

“dunno what you’re dreamin’ about to somehow find your way out of my arms,” the chief grunts, deep and musky. you inhale the junction between his neck and shoulder, muffling a giggle in his skin. his newly scarred arm wraps around your waist and you can feel every bump and groove of his body against you. him sleeping naked and you in one of his old cotton tunics does that.

“i’m dreaming about you, chief.”

bakugou feels you smiling, the tilt of your voice at his title. he pinches your side, making you yelp though there’s nowhere to go in his arms.

“here we go with the chief shit. you want my dick this early?”

his words are so harsh, rough but make your insides tingle all the same. you rock your body against his and there’s no hiding how he’s feeling.

“it feels like you want me this early actually.”

when you start to wriggle in his arms, bakugou loosens his grip, letting you shift to sit on his lower stomach. you love his gaze on you. ruby eyes study your bare shoulder from where his tunic dropped, the slope of your neck, your bare hips from where the fabric sits. you don’t need him to say he adores you because you can feel it.

“aren’t i lucky to marry you.”

it’s not a question, a statement. he bites down on his bottom lip, dragging it slowly between his teeth then letting it go. you run your hands over his bare chest at the same time large rough palms sit on your thighs. you sigh at the sight of the bandage on his left forearm.

“does it still hurt?”

bakugou glances down at his arm like he forgot he was even injured.

“nothin’ hurts when you’re near me.”

you roll your eyes and he squeezes your hips in response, rocking you slightly onto his cock. he presses between your ass cheeks, your next breath shaky.

“c-can you just be honest with me? we should get it checked out again today so it doesn’t get infected.”

his cock twitches, the left corner of his mouth rising.

“i’ve never lied to you—,”

“you did last week when you said there were no cinnamon buns left in the bakery.”

“that wasn’t a lie if i brought them all back home. is it, princess?”

“but—,”

“nuh-uh. none in the bakery wasn’t a lie ‘cause there wasn’t.” two hands drag you by the hips back and forth over his cock. just the feeling of him between your legs makes you hum though when his head brushes your clit, your whole body buzzes.

“tell me i’m not a liar, princess.”

his voice is smooth, butter melting over pancakes. you feel him thickening. you’re chasing the pleasure trying to flick your hips but he’s in control. it feels like he’s in control of your lips too when you say, “you’re not a liar.”

your eyes fall shut and you can’t help but lean forward to arch your back, hands pressing into the pillow on either side of his head.

“f-fuck,” you moan, your centre warm with a desire to be filled. if he’d just let you lift your hips, you could slide him right inside, “ki, i want you.”

“i know you do, baby,” his hand caresses your cheek, lifting your head to slot your mouth against his. his tongue slides into your mouth and it’s so overwhelming. your nose nudges against his and you practically inhale each other, licking as much as you can of him.

he does it without too much movement, that if you didn’t want it so bad you wouldn’t have noticed. your hips lift an inch before you sink down onto your fiancé.

you sigh into his mouth, cradling his head with your forearms. “oh i needed this.”

“you had this yesterday,” his chuckle surrounds you, sexy and loving.

you flick your hips up and down, chasing whatever feels good. in response, it makes him feel good too with the inescapable speed his hips match yours with.

“so?”

your place your lips on his neck, licking and sucking down on a spot. his neck is the most sensitive, he didn’t need to tell you for you to find out. it’s not too soon before his pace quickens, the wooden bed frame slamming against the wall. you guys have never cared for the noise since you’re on the top floor.

“you’re fuckin’ bliss, princess,” he grumbles, pulling you from his neck back onto his mouth.

his favourite, coming while his tongue is down your throat.

your breath is shaky, your hips jolting as electricity shoots through your limbs. it’s heavenly, the sides of him pressing against your walls, the feeling of your lover coming inside you too.

bakugou’s trembling through his orgasm, still trying to kiss you through it before giving into his release.

“ugh, fuck.”

he’s too sensitive, you can tell when he starts to get twitchy so you slowly roll off him.

“we needa get you off those herbs, lemme put a baby in ya,” bakugou mumbles, wiping the thin layer of sweat off his forehead. you snuggle into his side, ignoring the wetness between your legs for the time being.

“okay, man who’s life isn’t going to be frozen for nine months and life will change forever after. give me a few years,” you laugh breathlessly, sitting up to pull off your tunic from the heat.

eyes float over your chest and you’re addicting. bakugou presses kisses on the tops of your breasts.

“i know, i know,” he whispers and you brush the blonde strands drooping onto his forehead back. his ruby eyes get darker in such intimate times, meeting yours in a mutual ground. “just lookin’ forward to our life together.”

you hum but a smile breaks out nevertheless. “so cute. you like me that much!”

now you’re greeted with rolled eyes but not for too long until his lips circle your nipple. your back arches instantly, your breath hitching.

“like? yeah, i like you so much,” he deadpans, not giving you a chance to reply before finding your nipple again and sucking hard.

moans ripple out your mouth, “you’re gonna make me—,”

“chief? my lady?” three knocks shake the room and bakugou’s “hah?” leaves him without control.

your house staff rarely ever get onto your and bakugou’s floor, so this must be an emergency? you sit up abruptly and bakugou lifelessly falls back on the bed beside you in a huff.

“y-yes?” your body hears for a whole other reason. did they hear everything? oh god.

“just to remind you both, my lady’s guest will be arriving in a few moments if their travels have gone to plan.”

“oh my god, i forgot all about that! yes, we will be out in a sec!” you call.

bakugou’s still groaning, “will we be?”

you shove his side but he barely moves, taking hold of your hand. “we’re still gonna visit the doctor for your arm.”

“yes, my lady.”

what you have forgotten to tell your fiancé was how your old villages dress tailor was absolutely in love with you. bakugou was expecting an old man to walk through those doors. instead he finds that imaginary man’s son, around the same age as you both, smiling like he’s been blessed with fresh meat from a raid.

your presence does make one feel like that though. especially with how you look, freshly showered, a simple white flowy dress on, smelling like this new lavender honey soap he stole from a few towns over. you practically jump in this man’s arms and there’s not a second where this man isn’t touching you.

arms around your waist, then holding your forearms, then your hands.

“benji! i didn’t think i’d be seeing you today! where’s your father?” until you take a step back in shock, “why are you taller and so… muscular?”

you’re that close with him? bakugou’s met a few of your friends and this 6 foot, well built, floppy haired guy was not included. he doesn’t even realise he’s grinding on his molars with his eyes fixated on this man, benji’s, fucking hands.

when you think back to old benji, or actually younger benji, you remember a scrawny haired kid. skinny and not yet built for his body. shy smiles when you’d see his father for a fitting or when he’d come to your home to deliver a dress. that nervous cute boy is definitely not who is before you. his clothes fit him tightly in a purposeful way, definition in his biceps and even his neck is thicker. he’s not as big as your fiance but he’s definitely on the way to it. you can’t stop looking him up and down.

“father caught a cold, nothing too serious!” he exclaims once your eyes find his again. the old benji’s blush paints his cheeks at your attention. bakugou’s sure if he left the room this loser would try and put moves on you. brown eyes gazing all over your face like he’s trying to find what’s changed since you left, “so i’m sorry to say you’re stuck with me for this fitting.”

you laugh, your cute airy one that makes bakugou feel warm, “stuck! definitely not stuck with the best tailor villages have seen for years.”

benji’s fucking eyes twinkle and bakugou thinks that’s enough, stepping forward to remind everyone he’s fucking here too.

you lean back into your fiancé, benji’s hands falling from yours, “benji, this is katsuki, my fiancé! he looks mean but trust me he’s a teddy bear.”

you seem to forget that he’s only like that with you because bakugou is only staring at this man with pure warning, playing out in his head taking this guy in a fight. he’d win with no weapons. his jaw is gritted, chains around his neck and just a normal shirt. bakugou looks a little terrifying not even in his chief clothing.

benji nods at bakugou with a little bow. he half laughs, “i don’t think i get first name privileges, right?”

“yes!” “no.”

you and bakugou say at the same time. you glance up at him with a frown and bakugou avoids your gaze still trying to work out this benji, who’s going to be touching all over your body for the sake of measurements.

“nice to meet you, chief. we’ve all missed yn back home.”

bakugou wants to snap, she’s at home here and doing perfectly fuckin’ fine without you. but benji hasn’t said anything rude or wrong. anyone would miss you. he misses you when he wakes up before you.

so he sticks to silence, just a nod in response.

he respects how this guy holds eye contact with him and keeps this polite demeanour, or whatever the fuck he’s doing. small smile and bright eyes before locking eyes with you and both get bigger. bakugou hates this guy.

“okay well. i was planning on taking you around for a tour of the village for a catch up and then we can get back here to start measuring? i’m sure i’m different now with all the food i’ve been eating here, i can take you to the bakery!” you turn to bakugou, finger hooking with his, “do you wanna come too?”

he wants to, to monitor this guy. make sure he’s not acting stupid around you and looking at you like he looks at you and— bakugou huffs internally. he trusts you.

“nah, you guys go. i’ve got shit to go through here. bring me back an blueberry tart, yeah?”

he ducks down for your lips to meet his cheek but he’s not taking any chances, gripping your chin to press his lips to yours. you’re a fool for your fiancé, forgetting anyone else is in the room on an average day when he touches you. your body presses against his, hands gripping his shirt as your head tilts to fit his. you taste like minty toothpaste and you find some apple on his tongue from one he devoured while walking down the stairs.

then it’s an embarrassing switch of you pulling away abruptly because you remember your audience. you look like a deer in headlights, about to apologise when benji, who’s shuffling on his feet, says, “married life, ey?”

“not yet!”

“i see.”

bakugou sees the twinkle in this stupid man’s eye again. just because there’s no wedding ring around your finger, he thinks he can just slither in. fuck no.

“c’mon, let’s go before they run out of blueberry tarts,” he grins.

bakugou bites his tongue. if it were anyone else all hell would have broke loose, the blade he keeps at his waist would be at this man’s neck. he could even take him out with a single punch at his temple. though, he doesn’t because you press a lasting kiss to bakugou’s cheek, whispering, “see you later, gorgeous.”

you don’t get to see your friends often, you moved villages for him. most of all he trusts you with his life and you can take care of yourself if anything happens.

“see you baby.”

he watches you and this new guy walk out his home in bubbling conversation and laughter.

bakugou trusts you!! he trusts you so much. he trusts you. he just doesn’t trust that guy. not at all and not even a little. though he doesn’t think he’d wanna face you if he gets caught following behind you both and you need to have a life outside of him. just not with benji.

so when the door slams shut, just knowing you’re nearby makes bakugou feel a whole lot better.

“home!”

“i didn’t think the blueberry tart would be that nice.”

that fucking guy.

“in here!” bakugou shouts and soon enough he hears your footsteps getting louder.

he’s sat at his grand round table alone, massive brown map before him with piles of books messily scattered. he’s got a pot of ink and his pen, making chicken scrawl notes for his next raid.

you slip through the door, the scent of sugared ginger filling his room made for conversations about bloodshed. there’s flowers in your hair, probably from the village kids and you’re practically dancing into the room. green streaks from grass are across the bottom of your skirt and you’re holding what looks like a pie wrapped in red gingham cloth.

“hello my lover,” you smile and bakugou hums with warmth.

you slide the pie on the table before wrapping your arms around his neck from the back. you press your cheek against his and bakugou holds your forearm.

“got you a blueberry pie, jennie said this is her new recipe and wanted her chief to taste it.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

“thanks princess,” bakugou scrunches his nose, “how was your… catch up? how long you’ve known him for?”

he’s trying, he’s trying to sound normal. level headed. completely under control.

you laugh though and he knows he’s failed, “good! known his family all my life. his father’s made all my family’s clothes.”

bakugou huffs, “don’t fuckin’ like him.”

jealousy. your first time seeing it on him so you’re eating it up. “why?”

“he’s in love with you. all touchy, makin’ jokes. probably knows a bunch of shit about you i don’t,” bakugou runs a finger along the rough edge of his map. he’s not insecure, there’s nothing for him to be insecure about. the strongest, most feared man anybody has come across. until it comes to you.

“i don’t think he’s in love with me and he knows the old me. you’re gonna know me now and every version of me to come. right?”

bakugou sighs, pulling you into his arms. you’re glowing compared to him, sinking and gloomy. shiny eyes, glossy lips and your fingers scratching at his beard.

“yeah,” is all he says staring down at you. he licks his lips, “thanks for my pie.”

“no problem, gorgeous. i’m gonna go now, get measured.”

“he’s gonna see you naked?”

“well in my underwear.” you adjust to wiggle out of his grip.

bakugou groans loudly, “you couldn’t have had a female tailor? you know, like the average woman?”

“hey, if the man’s good at his job,” you shrug.

“and in love with you. another man who’s in love with you will be seeing you naked. fuck,” bakugou throws his head back on his chair, closing his eyes. he can literally feel his blood boil in his veins.

“not naked! again, in my underwear and he won't even be touching me, just with the tape!” you laugh, “and he’s not in love with me but if it bothers you so much you can sit with us?”

bakugou groans again, “nah, i can’t. i sound fuckin’ crazy. i don’t own you.”

“i am yours though,” you grin, backing up to leave. you’re holding onto the door ready to slip out.

“you are and i’m yours too,” he looks over at you, leaning back in his chair with a defeated raise of his brow. his arms are tense resting on his arm rests, showing in his beige fabric vest.

“that you are, gorgeous.”

bakugou can’t help it. he couldn’t concentrate on his work with the gnawing imagery of fucking benji touching you while you giggle away about something he should be hearing. and also he’s the chief, this is his village, he can do what he wants. so whilst wiping blueberry tart crumbs off his face, bakugou stomps towards the sound of melodic laughs and stupid quiet mumbles.

it’s a sight that if he wasn’t already prepared, would make bakugou switch into an immediate red rage. he’s not an animal but sometimes he’s trained to act like one however he knows this isn’t the time. especially when your eyes light up at his presence.

you’re in your simple baby blue laced trimmed underwear with this fucking man kneeling down at your feet, measuring your… ankles? what the fuck. benji has the measuring tape in his hand, paired with a pencil tucked behind his ear. bakugou notices a flash of alarm pass through benji’s eyes before trying to relax. bakugou can tell the guy can’t completely settle now he’s here. guess the chief thing has got some power.

“hey baby, have you finished the last plan?” you ask sweetly, standing up straighter by placing your hands on your hips.

you’re so beautiful. everyone knows it and bakugou knows you’d let him gaze over your body. your soft breasts and thighs. your smooth skin, highlighted against the blue and you’re standing so confidently, like you should. clearly comfortable with them both in the room.

bakugou grunts in reply, “yeah, think we’re gonna hold the chief captive. shove his staff in a room, don’t think he’s got too many. then knife to the throat, if all goes well.”

“if all goes well?”

bakugou glares down at benji, the look of alarm back through his eyes for a whole other reason. it’s like the words spilled out of him without realising though he won’t take back his surprise. he locks eyes with bakugou before jotting down some numbers in his notebook.

has he forgotten the respect which comes to talking to a chief in their village? does bakugou look like a fool? you don’t pay any mind though, breaking off a corner of a croissant and popping it in your mouth.

“it’s a fuckin’ raid. i’m not sure what you’re sayin’ here.” bakugou’s coaxing, curious for the reply.

“i know, chief. just is the violence necessary?”

bakugou laughs, loud yet lacking humour. what’s even more amusing is how you laugh too yet humour coats yours. benji looks between you both in confusion before wrapping his measuring tape around your thigh.

the sight has bakugou’s blood run hot. like his hands weren’t touching you there earlier. fuck, has he always been so possessive?

“how do you think your village gets shit? by sitting on their fuckin’ hands and waitin’?”

“we make deals.” then in a much lower tone, “i guess selling our ladies isn’t much better.”

there’s a pause in the room from you and your fiancé. frozen for a second before staring at each other. you in a ‘did he really just say that?’ and him in a ‘what the actual fuck?’

“what the fuck—,”

but bakugou’s voice means nothing to how you abruptly step back out of benji’s grasp. you’d think the switch in tension would urge you to cover up but you stand there as tall as ever with a seething glare.

“i wasn’t sold by anybody, benjamin. you didn’t think you were coming here to save me were you? is that what all the talk about how everyone misses me back home and you got a new horse was about?”

bakugou can’t help the “fuckin’ prick” that leaves his throat.

“your father gave you to a chief for a deal we won’t get raided,” benji replies, “if you weren’t a trade, what were you?”

you’re in stunned silence from all the things you can say. but benji takes that as a chance to continue, “you had dreams, yn! when we were little we wanted to travel, you wanted to study and you never wanted to marry! i know you wouldn’t want to marry a savage like that!”

benji’s pointer finger whips out to point at bakugou who raises an angry eyebrow. bakugou knows when to step in when you’re involved though he can’t help make the easy manoeuvre of yanking benji’s arm behind his back in a painful and awkward position.

benji yelps as he’s held against bakugou’s chest. “knew there was somethin’ fuckin’ weird with you.”

a few months ago, bakugou would have completely believed what benji said. felt shit about himself, believe you were forced to be by his side. but you’ve both been through that and it’s in the past. the only person who needs to know the truth is his him and you though apparently there’s a confused saviour in his hands.

you, on the other hand, squint at your childhood friend like he’s stupid. you let the man wiggle in bakugou’s grasp who holds him effortlessly despite his bruised arm.

“yn, please. we can go back together, say he was hurting you. i know he’s probably done worse,” benji spits out.

still in your underwear, you cross your arms and cock out a hip to stand comfortably.

“benji, i’m sorry but you’re sadly mistaken. did you not listen to anything i said during our walk or were you just fixated on your little plan to save me from my big bad husband?” you do a cocky pout at him, “i didn’t want to marry anybody at thirteen! though honestly, if i met katsuki then i probably would have.”

bakugou chuckles genuinely, chest bouncing as he grips benji even tighter. together, you ignore the annoying man’s yelps.

“to make this clear if i want to leave i can and i definitely wouldn’t need your help. katsuki is a dream and i am absolutely and devotedly in love with him, get that through your skull.” you sigh, another man who underestimates you. “you always loved making up stories that weren’t true.”

“i love you too,” bakugou chips in.

benji blinks rapidly, giving up on fighting out of bakugou’s grip. “i-i read about this in a book! they call it stockholm syndrome, when—,”

you hold out a hand, “i know what stockholm syndrome is and this isn’t the same circumstance. my life is beautiful here, if you listened at all to me on our walk you’d know. i love the people, my home, my husband. helping out, going on raids, a future family and yes benji, going to study too.”

weirdly, benji roars. it’s so out of character it makes you jump and bakugou snaps into action by shoving benji’s front into a wall so he can’t move.

“i was really looking forward to my new dresses.”

“i’ll find you a better tailor. i know one a good one few villages across.”

benji fights bakugou’s grip but he’s practically stuck between two walls now.

“yn, please. i can love you better than him.”

bakugou lifts him from the wall before pushing him against it again. “you can’t.”

you’re devastated, your childhood long friendship crumbling before you. benji’s wild eyes are trying to find yours, relate to something only you both know but you’re finding it hard to locate. he doesn’t know you anymore. you yank a tunic off the table to cover yourself up.

“go home, benji. don’t come back here and don’t visit me when i see my family.”

you sound as dejected as benji looks, eyes drooping and shoulders dropping. he looks nothing like how he did when you saw him last or even this morning. bakugou mumbles something in his ear before letting him go and suddenly, benji is shorter. smaller. creases in his clothes and his hair a sweaty mess.

“fine but if you ever need me, you know where i am.”

“i won’t.”

“leave now before i kill you.” bakugou states bored and everyone in the room is sure he’ll follow through.

two of bakugou’s men appear in the doorway, ready to escort benji out though bakugou thinks for a moment before following behind them.

bakugou finds you less than ten minutes later, sitting on the floor with your legs bent. you’re clearly in deep thought, lifting your head to your lover, “did you break his legs?”

bakugou nods, scrambling to sit on the floor beside you too. he’s uncharacteristically crossed legged to match how you’re feeling and your heart sings.

“nothing permanent just enough to not walk for a month.”

you smile but your voice is a sigh, “guess everyone is going to be talking about that then. yn’s brutal chief fiancé just broke poor benji’s legs.”

bakugou takes your hand in both of his, lifting to kiss your wrist. “i like the sound of that.”

bakugou’s smile makes you smile. you shake your head, “you know what i mean. i hate how everyone thinks i can’t handle you and i don’t care usually but how does everyone back home see me as so weak? especially, benji! i literally was in raids that got them food and fabric on his back!”

bakugou’s heart leaps in his chest. before he was the same, underestimating you. not believing you could handle his life, the violence and pain. but he knows better now. you’re shaking, chest heaving and bakugou is yet to see you cry. he’s never around people crying not because of him. he opens up his arms and you harshly throw your hand up. “no, i’m not about to cry.”

your voice cracks on the last syllable so bakugou shoves you in his arms anyway. your head rests on his shoulders as his arms circle you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he mumbles.

“i know. i love it here and i love you. of course, it’s okay,” your voice is a watery mess and bakugou laughs. “just wanted new dresses.”

“i’ll get you some. tell me more about him.”

“benji? i could tell you hated him when i introduced him.” you wipe your nose on bakugou’s tunic. he doesn’t care.

“wanted to kill him, still do. okay, tell me about you when you were thirteen.”

you shuffle so you’re sat comfortably in his lap, legs over his thighs, your hand running up his arm.

“you first.”

bakugou huffs but it’s always give and take with you. “i was stupid and smart at the same time. smarter than everyone else but not as smart as i thought i was. got into trouble sneaking into other villages but mostly to just observe how other people lived. got into fights loads, couldn’t handle my own temper. my father was a soft chief, everyone wondered how i was his offspring but only because they never met my mother. she was everything.”

bakugou pauses. “i wish i could have met them,” you whisper.

“i wish you could’ve too,” then he grunts, “your turn.”

“i got into my fair share of fights too,”

“adorable.” you frown at your lover who still grins at you, “everythin’ you do is gonna be adorable to me. face it or leave.”

you put your hand in his face in defiance though he just kisses your palm.

“i loved studying and reading. sitting in with my father and his men. cooking with our servants but mostly eating. i was close to benji, he’d come with his father to alter and deliver new clothes. our parents would let us play together because they respected his father.” you shrug, “he didn’t know all of me even then. i never told him what i knew about raids because he always seemed too kind for that type of violence. he wouldn’t have understood.”

you look up and bakugou who’s hanging onto every word. “that’s why we do what we do. so our people don’t have to.”

you bite down on your lip and nod. he’s all warm and cosy, your new definition of home. you hold eye contact for as long as possible before his caramel scent drags you in for a kiss. at first it’s just a press of lips. connecting to one before you start shifting around on his lap. bringing one leg to the other side of his waist. chest to chest, legs around his waist. your centre pressed directly against his hardness.

you cock a brow and your handsome chief fiancé shrugs, “you’re beautiful and sittin’ on me.” and that’s enough of a reason.

you tighten your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist without a sliver of air inbetween. then lastly, your lips lock with open mouths. pants and moans and flicks of your hips. calloused hands rub your sides then over your ass, squeezing each cheek with just the right amount of pain that you sigh against his tongue. you’re sucking on him, tilting your head for the best angle as your hands grip at his shirt then his hair. your nipples harden and the friction against your underwear and his rough slacks has you feeling equal parts hopeless and hopeful yet completely needy.

“and people think you can’t fuckin’ handle me. wanna prove them wrong for me, princess?” his hand only leaves your ass to scrape his hair off his forehead and you’re mush for him.

you feel like the human version of unscrewing a tight jar of jam. before you get to dip your finger in the sweetness, you have the sweet release of simply opening the jar. the offer he gives to do anything to him. the pop has you straightening your spine and nodding.

“yes,” you sniff and you’re sure you must look like a kitten begging for a treat with blown out pupils. “lay back for me.”

bakugou does what he’s told, but not before yanking off his shirt and grabbing a pillow off the nearest chair to stuff it behind his head.

“is this my life now? wantin’ to murder anybody who looks at you?” his voice is a grumble laced with arousal as you shuffle to pull off the shirt you threw on earlier. back in your baby blue underwear. you decide to keep it on.

“only when they want to take me away from you,” you whisper, touching his jaw with the tips of your fingers and laying two pecks on his lips.

he’s greedy though, going in again for more.

“i can promise you that. nobody’s gonna be takin’ you away from me.” the words float between both your lips and the next kiss confirms it in a promise.

“good,” is all you remember to say. then, “don’t hate me, i want to try a new position.”

bakugou raises an eyebrow though lets you do as you please.

you rotate around so your back is to him and his length is right before you. you’re quick to shuffle down his trousers and he lifts his hips to help you.

“prefer seein’ your face,” he only mumbles because as much as that’s true he does enjoy your ass bouncing in his face.

you only laugh, your mouth is about to start watering any second. your husb— fiancé, is stunning. fucking everywhere. he’s leaking already, thick, hard and intimidating. you run your finger along a particularly hard vein. he twitches.

“babe, no.”

he’s stern like he’s reprimanding you but the way his hips lean into your touch tell a different story.

“shush katsuki,” is all you mumble as you slide your ass back so you’re sitting on his collarbones and you lean forward to take him all in your mouth.

it makes you sigh in relief. he’s only got his hands on your calves but him in your mouth makes you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. you never thought you’d become a woman who wants to please a man but you guess that was before you met bakugou.

“f—fuck,” he stutters and you can imagine his face right now. eyes clenched shut, biting down on his bottom lip and looking completely beautiful. “you’re so good to me baby.”

the praise has you rolling, literally. you bob your head up and down, just how he likes. it’s noisy and a little messy. sucking when you get to the top and hollowing out your cheeks. if he asks you won’t admit you’re doing this completely for yourself, maybe to prove you can handle him. the jolts of his hips down your throat. even the fact your gag reflex seems to disappear around him. a couple chokes here and there but nothing you can’t handle.

until two hands find your ass and your privates are against a wet warm tongue.

you pull him out your mouth immediately, your forehead landing on his hip. your hips aren’t yours anymore, grinding on your fiancé’s face for any bit of the golden pleasure that warms you.

“oh, oh,” is all you manage.

“keep my cock in your mouth or you’re not comin’,”

“mean,” a slap lands on your ass, “hey! i didn’t say no!”

then there’s a grunt before lips circle your clit, bakugou’s way of ending the conversation and you welcome it.

it’s loud and wet. loud mostly from you moaning on his dick and then him jolting every time you do. he doesn’t need to add any fingers since you’re doing more than perfectly fine every time his tongue traces your hole and prods inside.

you’re in heaven, everything that happened earlier completely forgotten. it’s nothing in this moment of time.

especially when bakugou, pulls your pussy off his face to breathe and warn you, “i’m gonna come, baby.” like you couldn’t tell already. you just push your hips back onto his face to silence him.

he huffs a laugh, “okay, okay.”

you keep your hand circled at his base, another lightly squeezing at his balls. you keep breathing out your nose as you do a particularly long suck just at the same time he does to your clit. you don’t need to announce you’re close too, he knows.

as soon as you release your jaw, he lets go. shooting down your throat which you completely lap up. bakugou grips each ass cheek harshly as he does, his mouth losing all meaning as he comes, hanging open stupidly.

that’s fine as him coming only makes you come. your body shaking as heat ripples through you.

“fuck,” he spits and when his mind starts to clear, he pushes two fingers inside of you.

you yelp in surprise, pulling him out your mouth, “oh my—,”

he jabs them in and out with a skill you don’t even possess on yourself. his fingers curl to rub against your walls and it all makes your orgasm grow. it attacks your body, making you unsure whether to push back onto him or run away.

you’re not in the right state to wipe your mouth as you make a sound you never knew you could.

it’s a mix between a squeak and scream before you roll out of his grip to lay beside him on the ground. chest heaving, sweaty with dried substances on your face. no better way to be.

bakugou sits up first to look down at you. he licks the corner of his thumb to clean up your face.

“missed your face,” he breathes and you genuinely believe him. three words said in a relieved exhale. “beautiful.”

you’re unsure why it makes you shy, especially after just having his dick down your throat. he ducks down to kiss you and you accept it immediately. you taste yourself on his tongue and you’re sure he tastes himself too.

“missed you too.” the only right thing to say at this moment.

“fuck, we’re so soppy,” he chuckles, refusing to look away from your eyes. it’s so intimate, his naked body beside you, his fingers finding yours and linking softly.

you hold his cheek in your palm, “don’t think i’ve forgotten about your arm. i’m going to tell sophie to get your doctor to come over tonight.”

your chief pouts. it’s a sight worth painting.

“fine. happy wife, happy life.”

“don’t you forget it.”

thinking about the groan that comes out of mattsun’s mouth when you climb into his lap, bury your fingers in the soft strands of hair at the back of his head and pull until his lips part and his eyes go dark.

240701 / @ PANG!

GUYS. what if fuck buddy sukuna catches you out one night, but instead of being with your friends you're on a date 👀 I think he would play it off, would definitely interrupt and make your date feel like he's about this big 🤏 in comparison. but his jealousy doesn't even show in that moment, it's only when you come over to his place next time around does he mention with the slightest pout: "why don't you ever get dolled up to see me?"

hot chocolate

kofi support food project interest form

you pretty, he ugly. you swan, he frog.

there’s post nut clarity and then there’s post nut wtf. did that really just fucking happen?

the latter is how you feel as you stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom and feel the tear streaks drying on your face as you replay in your mind how your best friend just got done fucking you within an inch of your life after you made a cheeky remark earlier in evening.

teasing him about how over dramatic his past lovers must have been. you’ve seen this guy fumble a casual interaction checking out at the store. he’s always too oblivious when people flirt with him at bars. you’ve seen your best friend slam the door in a random cute girl’s face bc he didn’t realize there was someone else entering the building behind him.

there’s no way he has any game in bed. the few exes he briefly managed to date that always come crawling back for another chance have to be faking it to make him feel better. he’s just so…awkward.

you tell him as much one night, hanging out at your place, with a laugh and the gall to say “i bet you don’t even know how to make me feel good, and i’ve known you for years”

the next few details are a blur, but you don’t think you’ll ever get the image of your best friend’s eyes looking up at you between your thighs while he uses his mouth and tongue on you like a man starved. you were on your third orgasm when your eyes started to water from overstimulation and he just.kept.going.

you two have never minded being in each other’s space but you’ve certainly never been this close, with his forehead pressed against your own and legs thrown over his shoulders while he pounds into you at a steady pace. your breaths intermingling and it being hard to tell where one person ends and the other person begins because he’s just so damn close.

but the most shocking part that you’ll definitely be hearing again when you sleep tonight is the way he spoke to you. he touched your body so confidently and yet his words were full of praise and worship for you. thanking you for making him feel oh, so good. “so good, so so good” was his mantra. how your body is perfect and he loves making you feel good. so much in fact that you come on his cock two more times before he finished himself.

your best friend who you were so sure had no game in bed just ruined you for anyone else. and your post nut wtf moment has you realizing there’s no way you can let him do this with anyone else again.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

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w/c - 1.2k content - fem!reader, hurt/comfort??, ain't nobody really gonna divorce this man i mean, please

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

For the past two months, once every two weeks on Thursday afternoons, Higuruma Hiromi finds himself on a leather chair in the stifling offices of Hayashi Divorce Law. Hayashi himself is a walrus-looking man with nicotine-stained fingers and an expensive wristwatch, who leans back in his chair across the desk from Hiromi, unbuttons the top button of his Italian blazer, and eyes him with a grin that says “I’ll clean you out before you can finish saying divorce.”

The worst of it comes when you enter the room. You sit down by Hayashi, getting trapped by the scent of the walrus’s sour cologne and stacks of papers on the desk, without so much as a glance in Hiromi’s direction.

Hiromi’s throat dries up the more he sits and nods along to Hayashi’s words. He doesn’t remember much about equitable distribution from law school and he doesn’t care to - the only thing he does is tug on the wrinkled fabric of his suit and mutter variations of “Alright” and “You can have it”.

After the first meeting was over, and you left the room leaving nothing but a whiff of perfume that soon dissipated into nothing, Hayashi turned to him and furrowed his bushy brows “Didn’t your ex-wife say you’re a lawyer, Mr. Higuruma?”

To which Hiromi replied “My wife,” while clinging to the last unsigned papers that would make this statement false.

By the fourth meeting, he’s a wreck. While he sits and nods along, Hiromi notices you’re looking at him with a hint of concern in your eyes. As you open your mouth his mind fills with hope. He’d drop to his knees without a second thought for a “It’s a mistake” or just a simple “let's go home” - even though it’s your home now since he’d forfeited it a month ago.

But when you finally open your mouth, after two months of silence, the only words he hears are “What about the car?”

Hiromi looks up at you. The car. A navy blue Ford Sedan with it’s best years behind it much like himself. A Ford Sedan which only four years prior got its old wheels stuck in the wet sand of a Kanazawa beach, causing the both of you to stay the night in a nearby motel.

He remembered the motel room's crumbling ceiling and the scale models of ships that lined the shelves - below them a bed with azure sheets - which you collapsed on with a grumble, cursing out both the damn Sedan and its fucking wheels. All he could think of was how beautiful you looked with that shade of azure surrounding your skin - and by morning you’d called out his name so many times he forgot it had a meaning outside of your lips.

He’s silent for a long time. So long your confidence wavers a bit, “We can sell it,” you say, “take half of the money each.”

Hiromi awakes from his mind trip to Kanazawa and reality knocks the wind out of his lungs. “You can have it.”

“I mean it,” you shoot a look at Hayashi who looks displeased with the sudden display of kindness, “we can sell it and split the money.”

“You can have it.” Higuruma says, and Hayashi grins.

It’s already dark by the time Hiromi steps out in the hall. It takes him a few steps towards the elevator and a squint of his tired eyes to see you standing by it. It’s alright - he’ll just take the stairs.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him when he passes behind you. You press on the elevator button again. It’s been stuck on the 17th floor for a while now.

“It’s alright.” He assures, continuing his path to the stairwell.

“No. It’s not alright. Nothing’s been alright for a year now. Now wait here for the goddamn elevator.”

By the tone of your voice he knows he hasn’t got a choice. He takes his place next to you, shifting his gaze between the silver elevator doors, and the little screen that keeps showing “17” without any sign of movement.

A few minutes go by and there’s still no sign of the elevator. Your leg bounces on the marble floor and your lips purse before you let out a silent “What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh?” Hiromi blinks. The elevator doors ding open. The man and a woman inside move to make room for you, but you motion to them to go down, mouthing ‘we’ll take the next one’. The elevator closes.

“I said ‘what’s wrong with you.’” You turn to him. “I’m robbing you blind and you don’t say anything. So what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You can have anything you want.” He says, noticing you haven’t pressed the button to call the elevator again.

“That’s not what I asked -”

“You can have anything you want,” He repeats. “Just don’t make me come and listen to which bits of our life you’d like to sell and which to split. Take what you like, really - Whatever’s left will remind me of you anyway and I don’t think I’ll be able to stand looking at it without -” Going insane, he wants to say, but when he sneaks a look at your face he swallows the words. The crease he got used to seeing between your eyebrows vanishes.

“I’m not making you come, you know.” You say, “If you signed it all away after the first meeting we wouldn’t have to go through this.”

He can’t make himself tear his gaze off of your face, “I know.” His fingers press down on the fabric of his suit, “But if I did that I wouldn’t have a reason to see you again.”

“Don’t say things like that.” You press the elevator button again. This time, it arrives in a flash. You step inside, and Hiromi follows. The doors slip shut.

“Then don’t divorce me.”

The floor numbers change, a rapid countdown - 12 - 11 - 10. Hiromi’s mind races. He really pushed it this time - and even though he doesn’t have anything left to lose - his heart plummets together with the elevator.

“Fine.”

“Huh?” Hiromi’s eyes stick to the numbers still, 10 - 9 - 8. He’s not sure if it’s an auditory hallucination that’s speaking.

“I said ‘fine.’”

His hand finds the emergency stop button and smashes it in. The elevator rattles before it halts.

“Did you say -”

“I won’t repeat it again.”

And you really don’t need to. A moment later you’re pressed between his warm body and the cool metal lining the elevator car. His kiss is a desperate one - open-mouthed, all teeth and tongue - with his hands running under your blouse to relish in the warmth of your skin. You tangle one hand in his hair while the other’s clinging to a fistful of his suit jacket.

Hiromi detaches from your mouth, only for a second - which is enough for you to catch a glimpse of his flushed face - before leaving a trail of gentle kisses down your neck. Unlike his lips, his hands aren’t gentle in the slightest, they hold a tight grip on your waist under your blouse - as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear the moment he releases it.

Hayashi stands by the elevator, looking at the screen that shows “7” without any sign of movement. His face grows tomato red. Two interns stand at the edge of the hall, looking at him.

“What’s he so pissed about it?” One asks.

“It’s the elevator.” The other motions to the number on the tiny screen, “If it’s stuck too long on one floor it means a couple’s doing it inside. If they’re doing it inside they’re not divorcing - and if they’re not divorcing Hayashi’s not getting paid.”

idea from this tweet

this is canon.

Sukuna Dyes His Hair

You were just teasing him.

"Pink like a petite little rose."

"Shut it."

They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.

"Pink like a sweet strawberry."

"Strawberries are red."

Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.

"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.

"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes. 

Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.

Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.

He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.

It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.

After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression. 

You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.

"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.

"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.

You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?

“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks. 

It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then. 

You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.

"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.

"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?"