There Is No War In Natlan Just White People.

There is no war in Natlan just white people.

baby, you can mow my lawn!

[summary] the local dad you recently met is single and full of interesting stories about how easy it is to break furniture! have you ever heard of that stereotype about how divorced dads fuck with unbridled rage? yeah...

cw: divorced dad!toji, parenthood, sap and fluff, silly clichés, penetration, acts like an old dad, fucks like he isn't <3, age gap, he's got a big dick, oral m receiving, they get nasty with it!, size difference kink, creampies, 18+

masterlist this is the same universe in my head

it's nice to have a friend like toji.

some things you just can't be bothered with—like figuring out why your car is stalling, or dehumidifying the basement, or mowing your lawn every couple of weeks when it starts to sprout weeds, overgrown and dandelion-filled. it's arduous, hard work.

he's so kind, offering you a helping hand the way he does, all charitable smiles and advice. he does what you need with ease, then takes you out for coffee and pays for your drink. he even planted those, cute, new aloe plants you bought on an errand run together. he opens up about his past relationship—his only real one, he claims—and lets you gush over his son and alike he looks to him. it's fun, easy company—and so convenient, having a handyman around.

the day is sweltering and humid, and your grass is longer than ever—was, because toji, helpful as ever, is outside in your yard, lawn mower ripping, grass flying beneath it as it gets trimmed. you flick through the channels on your television, air conditioner blasting at the fractured thoughts ricocheting around your head.

be honest with yourself—you don't care about what you're going to watch.

not when your friend is in your perfect line of sight through your window.

his bulky back muscles ripple, his thin, white shirt soaked and stuck like a second skin on his stomach. his dark hair is plastered to his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating his veiny forearms and bulging biceps. he looks good. good enough to eat—like he'd probably taste saline and like aftershave and black coffee.

the sound of the mower dies. your lawn is pristine—it's not like you notice, not like you care, especially when he uses the end of his shirt to wipe off his forehead, his carved-out abdomen clenching with his heavy breaths, glittering and wet like the surface of a crystal lake.

this has been routine for months, now. you scramble from your lazy sprawl on the couch and into the kitchen, pulling out a jug of your brewed tea—one you make every time he's over, just because he told you how much he liked it.

you blame your clammy hands on the cold, ice-filled drink you pour into a glass and not the warm feeling that has your gut swirling and fingers nearly shaking.

the door rattles open, then creaks shut, and he's in your peripheral, his drenched shirt in his hand. he's shirtless—his thick fingers are combing through his damp locks, his neck rolling to the side as he stretches out. he's still panting softly, and when you turn and smile up at him, handing him his glass, you can't help yourself—his happy trail trail is dark and fuzzy, beaded with moisture, and your stare probably short-circuited on it for too long, but if he noticed, you couldn't tell.

his boots squeak against your floor. there's some stray grass hugging his muggy skin. he peers down at you and returns the small smile with a familiar fondness, calloused fingers brushing yours as he accepts the glass—

and you watch his strong throat work—ogle his hands dwarfing the glass. his warm palms melt the ice; droplets slip over his wrist and kiss the veins in his arm. the tea rolls down his chin as he finishes off the glass. the way he wipes his face and licks his lips is mannish and something else—something that makes your belly pulse.

"'s good—my favorite." the glass gently meets the counter with a tink. the lucidity of his green eyes is like a forest fire. "y'need me for anything else?"

you purse your lips, then laugh when he grins at you. the amusement in his gaze—it makes your brain stutter.

you consider him and lean back and grip the counter behind you for support.

"think you could be a doll and assemble my new sofa coming next week?"

the scent of freshly cut grass wafts through the open kitchen window—or maybe it's coming from him, an addictive concoction of body heat and earth. he chuckles, scarred edge of his mouth lifting, crooked and perfect, and nods, throwing his shirt over his tan shoulder.

he looks past you into the living room and eyes the sofa, crossing his arm. they're thick with muscle and tendons, all sinewy. hard to the touch, probably, if you reached out and traced your fingers over them, but his skin must be soft and hot, like a cozy blanket, onyx hairs covering them—the same kind that hugs his chest and lower back, right under the dimples there.

"mhm. but ya've got a perfectly good one there. you break it or somethin'?" he teases.

your laughter is light and airy like butterfly wings. he's funny, too, when he wants to be—it's so easy to be you around him, to let him in on what's on your mind and how you have been doing. it's a friendship you're grateful for, and one you'd hate to ruin.

it would be hard to prove you were thinking with your head when you stepped closer—close enough to smell the cologne and salt—and reached out your hand. dragged your index finger down a chiseled line seperating his abdominals. joined it with your middle finger and rubbed the skin above his belt, the moist tuft of hair there. dipped them beneath the waistband, fingertips barely brushing the denser mass of hair there.

is this too far—are you ruining a delicate, good thing? are you being too ridiculous—too bold and too loud, like a sheep in wolf's skin? he's older than you—probably smarter than you, too. does he think of you like a yapping puppy at his heels, starved for his attention wandering aimlessly when you're not getting it?

"have you ever broken one before?"

your heart is thumping in your ears, picking up speed when he drops his gaze to the way your hand is moving, how it's teasing his skin. that might have been a bad line, and it could be the case that he doesn't really want you, either.

his eyes are dark and hooded when he looks back up at you. imperceptible. impenetrable.

for a moment, you picture the look of disappointment from the neighbor's kids when you tell them he won't be around anymore to pick them up and play pretend with them.

your other older neighbor fawns over him, about how nice he is—how he helps her take her groceries in and trims her hedges if he's not too busy. your maillady calls him your boyfriend when she speaks to you.

you'd bet that people at his work probably call him a standup guy—his colleagues probably know him as a good friend.

so why does he fuck you like he hates you?

your mouth hangs agape in a silent whimper, eyes nearly rolled back into your head as a wet, squelching smack reverberates through your living room. your hair is fisted back in a firm grip, jaw cradled almost reverently, but the heavy weight on your back is cruel with force, nearly suffocating you into the cushion of your couch as it wrecks your insides and stretches you 'till you feel a sob wracking through your chest.

it's unbearably overwhelming—his throaty, low grunts in your ear, the balmy, musky, smell of him, his thighs keeping you caged and pliant beneath him as he ruts into you, ravaging your clenching, desperate walls. if you had the mind to be embarassed, you would be at the sound of his balls kissing your throbbing clit, the smooch of it getting stickier the more he rolls into you.

"should've known," he murmurs, nuzzling your hair, lips at your ear. "should've known what you wanted. feel so fuckin' stupid, not knowin' you just wanted to get fucked. that why you're so twitchy 'round me, baby? so antsy? hmm?"

your hands seek purchase in the couch and his arm around your neck, the nails of one sinking into soft material, the other in taut skin. you nod mindlessly, squeaky moans bordering on pathetic.

"fuuuck, toji, please—so good, s-so good," you babble, your head too heavy, face too warm. your cunt reflexively tightens, over and over, like it recognizes the thick shaft taunting your walls as an intruder, like it's trying to force him out. "s-so big, and... and—"

"y'should've just told me, sweetheart," he tuts, like he's talking about fixing a leak and not bare and seated in your guts. "listen to her—how happy she is to meet me, baby. y'didn't have to deny yourself like that."

he hums at your warbling tone, at the soft, plaintive way you're stumbling over your own words. his hand covers yours, thumb rubbing your flesh—a tender gesture if he wasn't so deep in your fluttering hole that the swollen head was nearly bumping where it couldn't go. his lips brush the shell of your ear before his chin tucks into the junction of your shoulder.

the constant sawing of his cock, the way it completely congests you without any wiggle room—how his pelvis is slippery and deft as it propels his girth deeper. it's too much—and it's not enough. you need to conjoin, to melt together as one.

the sounds that escape you are debasing, and you're helplessly close to the brink—so close that your pussy is starting to spasm and convulse and he can tell just how far gone you are; just how fucked-out he has you. he's making you his—owning you.

"gonna come—'m gonna come, toji," you slur, dignity replaced with your eagerness to get off, hips failing to buck under his oppressive weight as his own grind into your ass. "'s so good, need you to come inside me, pleaaaase—"

"shit, she's all wet and swollen. 'course 'm gonna come in this pretty pussy, baby." he groans, the smack of your bodies becoming white noise as you pulse around him. "such a good girl, beggin' t'get filled up."

it hadn't occured to you before that pleasant, family-oriented men can fuck the air out of your lungs until he'd gotten you reeling and messy under him.

the hair at the base of his dick is coated in your slick, and before that, your drool, from when you'd knelt between his thighs and let your tongue follow the divots on his leaking, hard shaft, over the slit at the tip.

you'd made quick work of pulling his pants and boxers down and nosing into his balls—and he'd wasted no time pulling your viscid panties from your folds and eating you out like he'd been dreaming of doing it. it was simple—straightforward, just like him.

his hand slides down your body, fondling your skin until he's circling your sopping clit, and it's enough—you tremble around his thickness, barely even able to whine as release crashes through you.

it's enough for him, too.

he locks his big arms around your neck and burrows his face into your hair. he rails into you, hips losing their composure as he seeks his own pleasure, the offensive sound of your conjoined bodies meeting a feverpitch.

"god, gonna fill up this pussy, give her what she's been needing. gonna fuckin' breed you—"

he bottoms himself fully inside you. you gasp, it hurts, almost, but he's just groaning and then it gets hot and creamy, and your arousal is mixing with his own, and he's fucking it into you until you're mewling and your heels are nudging his ass, lids falling shut. he loses his rhythm, puffing hot breaths behind your ear.

when he stops pumping, his cock softening within you, he takes his hand from your clit—tilts your jaw with it and starts kissing your face all over, wet and cozy over your cheeks and eyelids. tastes the tears staining under your eyes, brushes the fair from your face. when he pulls out, you sniffle, voice broken.

the neighborhood is still—sleepy, especially for the early afternoon. the sunlight swaddles the living room in a hazy blanket, illuminating the wood of your windows.

the yard does look really clean.

you're disembodied, in a sense—on another plane, and here, under deep, even breathing and soft touches. fingers push your hair back from your face when you rest your cheek on the couch cushion.

you peek up at your friend—can you use that word to describe him, now? do friends fuck each other stupid into couches (still standing and perfectly unbroken, by the way)?

"thanks," you mumble, a half-whisper, "for coming over and mowing my lawn."

favorite straw hats 🫶🏾

⍣ ೋ freek-a-leek

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ anal, degradation, humiliation, unprotected sex, car sex, groping, bakugou is so mean, reader is a lil perv, established relationship, choking, hair pulling, ass slapping, use of the word "daddy", anal virginity (?), no prepping

"eek!" you squeal, your hands rushing down to cover your ass. your head tilts to look behind, your face flushing at the tight of the evil blonde behind you, a wide smirk adorned on his face.

"what are you so shy for? with that tiny ass skirt you might as well be begging to be touched," he whispers into your ear, his hand traveling up the side of your thigh. your ears burn at his words, but you try to ignore his accusation, speeding up your pace to the car.

"oh~, ignoring me now are you?" he sings tauntingly, his hand suddenly wrapping around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. you breathe a sigh of relief when you see your car no less than 20 feet away, hoping he won't do anything more extreme than practically grope you in public.

"'i hope he doesn't do anything extreme in public,'" he mocks in a heightened voice, practically laughing at his own half-assed joke.

he pulls you flush to him, his mouth close to your ear. "if you don't get to the car in 10 seconds, i'm fucking you right in the middle of the side walk." your stomach drops at his words, a mix of excitement and scare building up within you. bakugou laughs like a menace when you practically jog to the car, your hands fumbling to unlock it.

he curses at you when you dumbly open the passenger door, his hand practically pushing you and throwing you into the back of the car. your heart skips a beat when he joins you, closing the door before his hands are grabbing onto your hips, forcing you to straddle him.

your lips collide with his roughly, a moan escaping your throat as his hands knead the doughy flesh of your ass. bakugou wastes no time to shove your skirt further up your waist, your body shivering when your ass meets the cold air. his fingers play with the hem of your panties, feeling the thin lacey material.

"you're such a slut," he laughs, seeing that you were wearing none other than a red thong. he rips it off you with ease, discarding the ripped material away in the car like nothing. "no 'm not.." you whine, hiding your face into his neck, drinking up his intoxicating musky scent.

you yelp when one of his hands entangle itself within your delicate locks, pulling back your head so you sit up straight on his back. "oh? so you're telling me that you wore that flimsy ass skirt just because? that you're wearing a red thong for no reason what so ever?"

you stay silent at his questions, body jolting when his other hand slaps down at your ass cheek. "tell me i'm wrong—tell me you weren't being a slut."

you jolt once more when you refuse to say anything, moaning loudly at the harsh sting. you're once again manhandled when he pulls you back in for a rough kiss, his tongue shoving it's way down your throat. your hazy eyes roll back to the back of your head at the feel of his fingers roughly exploring your ass and cunt, no note of gentleness within his touches.

"damn whore." bakugou spits out at you, treating your body like a ragdog and forcing you to sit facing away from him. your upper body is pushed against the passenger seat while your ass remains seated over his hard-on, any escaping sounds from your lips muffling into the head rest.

your cunt twitches around nothing when you feel the unmistaken sounds of bakugou undoing his belt, his hips lifting up slightly to shove his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock from it's confines.

it lays heavily on the swell of your ass, your face heats up against the headrest, mouth salivating at the mere thought of your small pussy being fucked up by his fat cock.

only, tears begin brimming at your waterline when you hear bakugou scoff and groan. "don't have a condom, babe." he says, his hand rubbing softly on the ass cheek he spanked earlier. your heart swoons at the minute gentleness, but your core clenches and cries for release.

before bakugou could put his cock away, he's quickly interrupted by your desperate cries. "u-use my ass," you murmur out, voice so low he could barely hear you. barely, he can hear you, but the asshole within him has him smirking at your rarely seen perverse-side.

"use what?" he asks nonchalantly, eyeing your untouched hole. you squirm and whine at his teases, face reddening up with shame. you babble out incoherent sentences, much louder than the previous, but still he insists. "i don't hear you," he excuses, his fingers lightly rimming your hole.

"u-use my ass!" you cry out loudly, tears finally running down the soft swell of your cheeks. before you could beg once more, your mouth drops into a silent 'O' when bakugou presses the blunt head of your tip into your virgin asshole, the sheer heaviness and tight burn leaving you speechless.

"my girlfriend is such a perv," he groans out, his eyebrow twitching at the vice grip your ass has around his cock. incoherent babbles leave your mouth as he pushes his cock further and further past your tight ring of muscle, the two of you sighing in sync when his cock is fully sheathed within your virgin ass.

"oh. oh." you mindlessly say, your pedicured nails ripping trails onto the expensive leather of the passenger seat. "yeah? you like being fucked in the ass?" he hisses, his hips grinding against your ass.

your head nods up and down frantically, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock fills you up so deliciously. your ass walls stretch to the max around his cock, the only lube being his precum. it's painful, it's tight, it's burning—but that's all the more the reason why your vision goes white as your pussy clenches around nothing, cumming to your ass getting filled by his fat cock.

"fuck—you're so tight," bakugou groans, his eyes clenching shut as your walls tighten up around him. his hips struggle to move, behind practically held in place by the vice grip that is your ass.

you're given a mere second of break before bakugou is plunging his hips into yours, his hands move from your ass to your neck and he suddenly holds you up, suffocating you into the passenger seat. his cock drills inside your tight ass, walls tightening as he fucks you full his hands tighten around your neck with each clench of your ass, the lack of oxygen adding onto your cloud of euphoria.

"can't believe my cute little girlfriend likes being fucked in the ass—w-wonder what everyone would think when they learn that my slut of a girlfriend likes to be fucked in the ass in public," he moans out, his balls slapping against your untouched pussy.

"love b-being fucked by y-your cock—" you pathetically drool out, so high on his cock that you could barely manage a coherent sentence. bakugou's hand reaches over to your clit, watching as your eyes roll back, body twitching sporadically as you cum for the second time. your cunt practically leaks, all over his cock like expected, ass being pulled almost inside and out with the way it clenches up once more.

"katshuki! katshuki—katshuki! lovelovelovelove you—" you scream out into the seat, his fingers still rubbing soft circles onto your clit. "what a good bitch, you love being fucked in the ass in public?"

"yesyesyes—love being fucked by daddy in public," you moan out dumbly, babbling nonsense love confessions as bakugou jackhammeted into you at a quicker pace as he fucked you into the seat. your body became riddled with overstimulation, tears pouring down your face like a unending river, your mouth agape, screaming repeated words of "yesyes daddy fuck me!"

"fuckfuck you—hah—bitch–i'm gonna cum—," bakugou gritted out through his teeth, his hands gripping tightly onto your waist witg sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes his cock into you with all his weight, his cum filling you full.

"cum..cum daddy.." you mumble lowly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your last orgasm washes over you at the feel of his hot cum filling you.

following your orgasms, the two of you sit still, panting heavily to regain your breaths. bakugou's cock remained in your ass, serving as a special plug to your dripping ass. still, his cum seeped out, leaking down to his balls and onto the leather seat below.

with a satisfied sigh, bakugou pulled out his phone, taking a memorable photo of your fucked out ass from behind.

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MINORS DNI 18+

“This is sum’ wifey shit, you know that?” KATSUKI BAKUGOU remarks, a husky grate to his winded voice as he fucks your guts through your pretty asshole. Big hands split you open, fingernails digging into the flesh of your backside. You can’t keep it together, eyes drowsily fluttering as you clutch onto the sheets and whimper. It’s as if you can’t tell if it hurts or feels good, however satisfying the fill is. “Fuckin’ yer ass and you’re backin’ up on the dick like you want it. The fuck’you playin’ at, huh? Wanna ring or som’thin’?” You cry into the mattress, curling your toes so hard they ache while he’s pumping those hips into you. Fat cock making a mess of your asshole, pre-cum and spit lubing up the tight hole enough to let him fuck you like he wants you in pain. “Damn, you think you’re gunna cum? Feel like you’re close. Haven’t even touched that cunt yet.”

my heart absolutely breaks for gaza. imagine screaming for help. for someone to save you and the world ignores you for the most part. shame on anyone and everyone who supports this. where is your empathy.