Karma (pro!Bakugo Katsuki X You)

Karma (pro!Bakugo Katsuki x You)

summary: a creep follows you at night, but your boyfriend is a pro hero on patrol.

word count: ~700

cw: villain following reader home, swearing

tags: angst/comfort, happy ending, established relationship

note: hi hi hi, i've been working on the todoroki x seamstress!reader series so i haven't had time to write big one-shots for other characters, but this is something that popped into my head. short and sweet, yk? i couldn't get the lyric "karma is my boyfriend, karma is a god" out of my mind, so thank you dr. taylor swift. hope you enjoy :)

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated <3

“I have a boyfriend,” you said shortly over your shoulder, slightly increasing your pace as the man behind you attempted to keep up. As soon as you noticed the stranger tailing you from afar, you tapped the band around your wrist that you were gifted for your first anniversary. Short-short-short, long, long, long, short-short-short. SOS. 

The man had been following you for several blocks, now; you were sure of it. At first, he’d walked parallel to you on the other side of the street after you’d nabbed some last-minute groceries for hosting your boyfriend’s parents the next day. You could have asked him to pick up your order on his way home, but you had no clue when his shift ended. When you approached the neighborhood with your shared apartment, you cut a sharp turn to lead the man away from your home. He crossed the road, then, and blood pounded in your ears as you sensed him coming up behind you.

Spinning to face him, you glared at him with as much confidence as you could muster, your pointer finger poised on the trigger of your pepper spray. “Get away from me.” He stopped, putting several paces between you two. A quick glance at your surroundings indicated that there were no other civilians around, the darkness of the street shrouding the dangerous situation the man had forced you into. He must have realized that too, as after a moment he aggressively closed the distance between you two, arms extended and forcing you to stumble backward. But just as you pressed down on the trigger, the canister turned to mush in your fingers, and a malicious laugh escaped the man now within arm's distance of you. His eyes glowed an ominous shade of red that matched the energy radiating from his hands. His quirk had turned your pepper spray into liquid, and you were defenseless.

“No one’s coming to save you,” he sneered, and time slowed as a large hand reached for your throat. You were alone, but that didn’t matter. 

You knew his patrol routes. 

The instant before the villain made contact with your skin, a thundering rumble came from above you and a bright flash catapulted the man away from you. You knew Katsuki was only a few blocks away from you, but that didn’t stop you from panicking when there were no reassuring explosions coming your way. You let out a deep exhale, letting your shoulders relax as you leaned against the wall and tried to slow your racing heartbeat. Your eyes vaguely make out the formidable figure of your boyfriend, slamming your assailant into the concrete in one deafening blast. He pulls a set of handcuffs from his belt, clicking them onto the villain’s wrist before giving one more kick to his gut for good measure. When he was confident the man wouldn’t be conscious enough to run, Katsuki finally made his way to you. 

“Kats?”

“Hey, babe,” was all he said before he pulled you in, burying his head into your shoulder. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out against his chest. “I’m good.” 

His eyes narrowed on the bag of groceries you’d dropped on the ground. “I could have picked that shit up in the morning.” 

“I was doing prep and we needed Brussels sprouts.” 

“Then I could have bought the damn Brussels sprouts in the morning.” You tried to look away from his piercing gaze, but two fingers under your chin were enough to turn you to face him. “As much as I know that you can handle yourself, you scared the shit out of me with your Morse Code thing. Thought you were gonna die or something.” A gloved hand gently caressed your face, and you leaned into his touch. “You know I’m not fucking good with words, I just–”

“I know,” you say, lightly resting your fingers against his lips to stop him. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be any more stressed tomorrow.” He’s silent for a moment, your fingertips against his mouth, then– 

“What if I bit your fingers right now.” 

“Bakugo Katsuki.” He flashes a sharp grin at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead as you hear approaching sirens. He must have alerted law enforcement prior to saving you. “Thank you for coming to get me.” 

“Of course. I love you, fuckin’ Brussels sprouts determination and all.” 

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the smile from spreading on your face. “Walk me home?”

His hand slides into yours, lacing together with your fingers like a puzzle piece. “You know it.”

MEMORIES OF YOU

in a timeline where your presence is lacking, they do everything to keep you beside them.

a/n; i really want to know what the brothers in our current timeline are doing. how are they holding up? sorry for another long post, i felt insane (m;_ _)m. a few of them got a bit out of hand compared to others.

Lucifer plays your voicemails on repeat.

there are times when the workload gets a little bit too much now. lucifer hadn't ever noticed how much he had relied on your presence to soothe him after a stressful day; the shoulder massages and brief kisses, the comforting words, the mere company of you beside him had begun to feel like second nature.

unfortunately, you're no longer here to provide that for him, and neither is he there with you to offer a guiding hand in whatever it is you might be going through right now. the thought that you could be in danger sends a dull ache to his head, and the thought that it could be him being the one harming you is enough for him to put down his pen. no more work will be getting done today.

in moments like these—and he hates to admit they've been frequent—lucifer reaches for his d.d.d. the device feels heavy in his hand, and he has to stop himself from trying to once again call you. instead, he goes for the next closest thing.

"lucifer!" your voice is bright and cheery, it rings out clearly enough that he almost believes you've teleported right next to him. the tension of his shoulders ease as you continue, "i'm really sorry for leaving early today, but i did make breakfast before i left!"

lucifer leans his back against his chair, chuckling at the flustered sound of your delivery. it sounds as if you were running while recording this.

"there should be enough for everyone plus seconds and uh..." he can hear the quiet mumbling of your counting. "tenths for beel! again, i'm really sorry for leaving without all of us getting to eat together. i accidentally left an unfinished project back in the classroom and—oh! there's RAD! i'll see you in a bit, lucifer. tell everyone i said good morning!"

the voice message ends with a click, and he feels like the weight of the entire world is once again stacked upon his shoulders. as it always does.

with anchored fingers, he goes to tap the next voicemail when a knock on his door stops that.

"i'm comin' in," the voice from the other side warns before opening the door. mammon steps inside with a single cup balanced on his hand and places it on lucifer's desk, sparing a glance at the papers strewn across its surface. "still working?"

"it's never really done," lucifer responds, taking a sip from the cup. his eyebrow raises at the flavor. "is this barbatos' tea?"

"not really." mammon reaches out to sort the files into a neater pile. "i asked him to teach me in exchange for helpin' with castle cleanup."

it's the second time today lucifer's shoulders relax. "thank you, mammon."

Mammon fills his room with trinkets.

it's hard to keep mammon from spending all his grimm without you there to stop him anymore. for a while, the habit had dampened with your absence, and his brothers had wondered if he would drop it all together until you were back. that thought lasted all but two weeks.

when he had started back up again it was his usual treks—gambling at the casino, buying luxury items he had no real need for, spending it on bets he was sure to lose—and then they shifted.

there's a pile of boxes and paper bags settled carefully inside the seats of his car—the safest area of his room. they range from big to small, all designed and painted with different colors and patterns. a few of the logos and brands repeat, and asmo is the first to take notice that they're all from the stores that you like to visit.

it's somewhere near high noon when mammon leaves the house of lamentation and late evening when he comes back home.

he lets out a silent thanks that his brothers aren't around right now. or maybe they've gotten used to his schedule for the past couple of days and have decided to give him the privacy he needs. whatever the case may be, he's grateful there's no one at the entrance to chide him again.

kicking the door closed with his foot, mammon does his best to not let the multiple shopping bags hanging on for dear life in his hands slip.

it's almost like clockwork, the way his feet leads him to your room first, as they always do. he spares only a moment to take a look around. many of the things he's bought have been tucked securely in his room, but there are times, like today, where he just wants to show them off.

"Didja know Beel keeps comin' in here to eat his snacks lately? I bought a candle to clear out the air." true to his word he pulls out a candle in an intricately designed glass jar, scented in your favorite fragrance.

though it doesn't stop there, and soon your entire table is filled to the brim with different items.

mammon takes a look at everything he's bought once before pulling out a lighter and flicks it on. a mild, familiar scent fills the air, and he hates to admit it's the most calm he's felt in weeks.

Leviathan can't stop updating you.

if there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's the frequency of your texts with levi—or more accurately, levi's texts with your d.d.d. even if it's for the most mundane thing, he doesn't hesitate to whip out the mobile device and let his fingers fly across the keypad.

no one tells him to put his phone down anymore during their meals together, and even the pit pat of the letters being pressed feels more like comforting ambient noise now. the new normal in lull of conversation topics.

sometimes, there's nothing for him to talk about. times where he doesn't leave his room, where he isn't playing a game, or watching a new anime, or reading the latest manga volume release despite the media being right at his fingertips. the house of lamentation feels like it becomes empty during those days, but he doesn't want to tell you that.

levi finds that his bathtub becomes more comforting as every day passes by. the small, slightly confined space that hugs at him from both sides feels reassuringly warm with the blankets and pillows he's stuffed in there.

still, even as he shifts into a more relaxing position, nothing beats the joy he feels tapping away at his d.d.d.

he hasn't left his room for the past five days for anything other than the usual family meals, and even the games that usually pull him in no longer grab his attention. the only thing that does is the device settled within his hands, the dim glow it admits being the only thing he can focus on.

[ have you eaten yet? if not you better get to it, beel's been clearing out the fridge so fast lately i don't even bother going to the kitchen anymore. it's straight to the store for me LOL. ]

[ there's a new anime that's releasing soon. it's based off a manga about two twins that fall from the sky and end up saving the nation that raises them. i hear it's a real tear-jerker! i'll wait until you get back though so we can watch it together. ]

eventually, even levi runs out of things to talk about, and so he reluctantly marks the end of the the conversation with a goodbye.

[ talk to you soon, i'm going to pass out. sleep well when you do! ]

he does his best to ignore the fact that the messages aren't sending.

Satan sees your name in every word.

in the beginning, satan goes through every tome within every library the devildom has to offer. there must be a way to get you back from where you've disappeared to. and while he trusts solomon to keep you safe, he wants nothing more than to be there to guarantee that safety, or better yet—not have you disappear at all.

still, after turning every archive upside-down and over, satan resigns that there's nothing more he can do but to trust the sorcerer. but he can't; the thoughts of his years right after the celestial war ended haunt him and he fears that if anyone was to jeopardize your safety the most, it would be him.

and so he throws himself into his pastime. yet even then, his eyes can only skim the pages, the words nary processing in his mind. how could they, when every term, every phrase reminds him of you?

satan's hope of losing himself within the world of a story doesn't go as planned. it hasn't been going as planned for the past couple weeks.

the spine of a book cracks open, and the coffee-stained colored pages are flipped. his finger slides over the finely inked words, and then pause just minutes in when he realizes he hasn't retained a single thing he read.

rinse and repeat, the same old pattern.

frustrated, he snaps the cover closed, the force of his action loud enough to be heard by anyone who would pass by his door.

the protagonist of the book he had picked up was described as kind and forgiving. they would brighten up every room they entered and had as much fear in their body as they had caution—which was little to none. they face many trials to bring happiness to those they love all without a care for their own well-being. satan sighs, curling in on himself from his seated position.

a strained laugh nearly leaves his throat, but he holds back. of course he would gravitate towards this book with a description like that.

with a heavy heart it tucks it back ontop of the pile of other unfinished tomes—the height of it becoming increasingly worrying—and hopes that the ending is a happy one.

Asmodeus can't stop talking about you.

without your presence, asmo delves himself deep into his social circles. it takes his mind off of how concerned he is about your well-being; he doesn't need to keep himself awake thinking on how much he misses you or how you might be missing him and the rest of his brothers.

well, at least he thinks he's taking his mind off of things. it's hard for anyone to put a word in once asmo starts opening his mouth, especially when the only thing that leaves from his parted lips every other sentence is your name.

if it wasn't evident in his conversations then it's evident in the way his shampoo has been swapped out for a fragrance you had always been more privy to, or the way his style has slightly shifted towards what style you like to wear. he picks up your habits like it's his own even if he doesn't notice it.

"oh, you'll never believe what they did next!" asmo laughs, his sing-song voice ringing above even the loud blasting of music from the party speakers.

one of the demons closest to him leans in closer, a sparkle in her eyes as she continues listening to his story. a story that he's been telling for the past two hours since they sat down. "what happens next?" she pries, genuinely curious.

the stories continue on for the rest of the night, until the music dies down and the crowd thins out. the female demon is still by asmo's side, a yawn leaves her lips and he mimics the notion.

asmo blinks, eyes trailing to the watch she wears loosely around her wrist. "oh! i didn't realize it was so late, sorry to keep you here for so long."

"not at all!" she smiles, waving her hand. "thank you for telling me such interesting stories! it's the most fun i've had this week. it's obvious you must care for this person a lot."

it's only when she says that does asmo realize you were the only topic of his conversation this entire night. a smile creeps to his lips before he can help it. it's the first time in a long while that he's thought of you without fearing about how you might be doing.

because it's you. and you're always getting out of every situation the world throws you in.

Beelzebub gravitates towards the food you eat.

alongside belphie, beel—like everyone else—makes regular visits to your room. it becomes his primary hangout spot now outside of his own shared bedroom and so the snack stash that you usually keep in a drawer under your desk has recently expanded.

it practically bursts at some points from how much he tries to stuff in there on some days, but it's always empty again by the end of the week. sometimes he finds items that he didn't buy settled on the top of the rest snacks, though they always seem to be foods that you enjoyed nibbling on.

he misses the food that you used to cook for everyone at the house of lamentation, and no matter how good simeon's cooking might be, it just isn't the same. still, he does his best to replicate it sometimes. maybe by the time you get back he can surprise you with a home-cooked meal... if he doesn't eat it first.

it's usually mammon or asmo that walks through the doors with half a dozen bags grasped in white knuckled grips, not beel, but here he is. in contrast to his older brothers, though, beels bags aren't filled with clothing or make-up, but food.

"are you sure you don't need help with that?" belphie asks, a little more than concerned at how even with how wide the doors are to the house of lamentation he was barely able to fit through the opening.

"it's fine," beel shakes his head. "this is nothing."

they make their trek to the kitchen with little difficulty. as beel said, those bags really did feel like they weighed nothing. "what do you think we should try making?"

"hmm," beel looks over their ingredients. they hadn't really thought that far ahead. whatever was on sale, they bought. "how about shadow pork ragu pasta?"

thankfully, with belphie's ability to keep himself conscious, he helps beel from continuously 'taste testing' their creation. it goes well until they're half-way through and the door opens, a head of blonde hair popping inside.

"i thought i smelled something here, what are you two doing? it's not your turn tonight for dinner duty." one look at the dish they're making though and satan gives a nod of understanding. it's the dish you had made for belphegor some time ago. "need some help?"

satan's help is very much needed as belphie was on his last winks and that meant there would be no one to keep beel in check either. by the time the pasta was finished there's five-too-many more servings than intended on the counter and four more demons surrounding it.

seems like they won't be having dinner in the dining hall today.

Belphegor takes your room as his own.

there's no other room in the house of lamentation that's as comforting as yours—that's simply a unanimous fact. and with the absence of your presence now, it's also the only place belphie can go to feel the closest to you.

he spends more time in your room now than he does in his shared room with beel and the attic combined. there are days where mammon sneaks inside during the night only to already find the twins loitering around, laying on your bed or sitting at the table having a snack (or at least, beel's definition of a snack).

while belphie admits he likes the time he spends in your room alone, he feels more at peace when his brothers decide to join as well, uninvited or not. it makes the days feel like they've gone back to normalcy, when you're still here and they can just relax in each other's company.

"mammon stop clinging to me, dammit! you're the one who wanted to watch a horror movie!" levi pulls away from his older brother as much as possible, holding a container of popcorn above his head to prevent it from spilling all over the floor and dirtying your carpet.

satan's groans are louder than any of their yelling, "quiet down! i can't focus on what the characters are saying! and beel your chewing too loud!"

"sorry," comes the prompt reply followed by even more chewing.

asmo leans his back on the bed frame, head tilting to the side in order to get a better view of belphie's face under the dim light of the monitor. "having fun?"

"what do you think?" he groans, pushing his head further into your pillow.

and while belphie can't see the expression asmo makes, he has a good prediction that he's grinning. "i think you're having fun. after all, you haven't kicked any of us out yet."

"it's not my room," he replies.

"but you know everyone would gladly leave if it meant you felt more comfortable."

the youngest brother turns his back. "you guys are too loud, i'm going to sleep."

"yes, yes, sleep well, belphie," asmo quips. "have nice dreams."

and he does.

even over the loud noises of his brothers yelling and the muffled sounds coming from the speakers of the tv, belphie finds that he hasn't fallen into a sleep this deep since you disappeared. and while morning comes eventually, he treasures the dream with you in it for as long as he can.

Men whose personalities flip when they have a crush on you

Suna, Atsumu, Oikawa, Suga, Yaku, Daichi, Futakuchi, Tendou, Kita x gn reader

God himself couldn't stop Suna from flirting with you. You'd think he has a secret twin; honey eyes dull and uninterested until you walk in. He's got a sly smirk on his face as he leans in to talk to you, the first conversation he's engaged in for the day. Calloused fingers poke your cheeks and tease their softness. You and you alone can make him seem this alive.

Atsumu could not be more quiet in your presence. His abdomen is starting to cramp up from how he's been sucking it in for the last two hours, not daring to breathe too loudly in front of you. He's clumsy and dazed, making you repeat yourself a handful of times before his ears regain their function to listen instead of just staring at you. A far cry from the perfect player he is on court.

Oikawa is insufferable. Whether it’s to the people around you both, or you directly, he’s flaunting everything he’s got. He has the pointless delusion that his friends will play wingman for him instead of sabotaging. He’s not a tyrant captain but seeing Mattsun purposely distract you as he sets up for a floater makes him think Seijoh can go for a few laps after practice. Nicknames and small affections galore. Sure, he smiles and waves at all his fans but does he hold their hand and give them long hugs even if they’re just excusing themselves to the restroom? Also he leans on you a TON. Has no spine when you’re around, just always draping himself over you and whining for your attention.

Sugawara gets a little mean. He can't help it! He knows he's the poster boy of being a kind senpai, but one glance at your sweet face has his inner desires tumbling out. He's fairly good at controlling himself but you are his one exception. He'll make sharp quips in the sweetest voice possible just to see you get whiplash over it. He knows he should stop, that there's a chance he might drive you away with his behavior, but he's addicted to teasing you in the worst way.

Demon senpai Yaku? Did you mean angel boyfie-to-be Mori 😇😊🥰 Man is the simp of simps and everyone knows it. Nekoma is disgusted with the way his forehead vein disappears and he immediately stops yelling once when you walk in. Yaku spoils you rotten even if there is no label on you two; he's holding your hand to kiss the back of it, walking you to class, buying you dinner all the time, and complimenting you non stop. He's a perfect gentleman. That's not to say he won't tease you (relentlessly at that,) but that comes later. First, he needs you to know that you're the apple of his eye and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you.

Daichi would forget his head if it weren't attached to his body. You're just so pretty and wonderful, it makes him nervous! The type to drop his food all over himself if he's eating around you. He's knocking things over and tripping over his feet in your presence. Daichi is adorably clumsy but he always gives you a bashful grin, blush staining his cheeks and ears.

Futakuchi teases you so badly, you'll think that you're the one with the crush instead of him. This man won't let you live. You're not even dating but he already has an entire folder of blackmail on you- when you fell asleep in class, you tripping up the stairs, dropping a whole bag of chips on your white pants. He brings up your embarrassing moments so often. I wonder how much attention he must have been paying to you to catch them all 🧐

Tendou is selectively awful to you. The definition of ‘gives you his worst to see if you deserve his best.’ He’s so tired of people abandoning him when they realize who he is as a person. He’s almost expecting to scare you off, so he goes overboard as some assurance that ‘yeah, you’re not the one.’ Color him surprised if you do stick around and dare he say….treat him normally. If you get to that point, he’s gonna be clinging on you like there's no tomorrow. He might even seem like he’s leading you on a bit with all his hot and cold teasing, but trust me, there are definite feelings behind it.

Nobody expected Kita to be offering you his shoulder for a nap, but here we are. He cares about you deeply. Deep enough that when he sees you yawning, he folds his cardigan in his lap as an extra pillow while he gently guides you to his legs for a quick rest. He keeps his warm hand on your shoulder the entire time and gently rubs it, even long after you drift off. His highly valued personal space is now your highly valued personal space. He has the sweetest smile and a warm blush on his face whenever he talks to you. The team can’t even make fun of him because it’s so adorable.

.masterlist.

Eraserhead x Reader How Convenient!

There were perks to working the night shift at Al Deraan’s Convenience Store. You got to pick the music playing on the old stereo, because there were rarely any customers present or sober enough to complain. You can be on your phone if nobody else is around. All you really need to worry about is turning off the lights before heading home, and locking up. Most nights, you are alone with the smell of window cleaner and prepackaged pastries.

Sometimes, he stops by.

He’s a pro hero. A real one, with talent and history. Every time you see him, he exudes mystery and steadfastness. He is the coolest man you have ever seen, dressed all in black except for his scarf and protective eye-wear. You hang on every gruff word he speaks.

Which is usually limited to, “Keep the change,” or, “No bag is fine.”

Keep reading

"Stop that, Suna."

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything."

You read the same line of your notes for the fifth time before slowly closing your eyes and trying to deflect the gaze burning into the back of your head.

He sighs, loud and long. "Woe is me."

There's a rustle of linen as he rolls over.

"Ignored. Abandoned." His tone is flat. "The loneliest boyfriend in the world."

There's a quiet scratching sound and you can picture him dragging his fingers along the wall in boredom; you suppress a smile.

"Not even called my real name," he says in mock hopelessness.

He sighs louder. "It's like I don't even exist."

"Rintarō," you reply, trying to focus back on your notes again. "You're not helping."

More rustling and you feel a hand grabbing at the back of your chair.

"Kuroo needs this repor--" the word cuts off in a gasp as the chair is dragged away from your desk. "Rintarō!"

You hop out of the chair the moment before he reaches for you and turn around to see his ridiculously flexible and strong torso hanging over the side of the bed, eyes narrowed at you in frustration at your evasion.

"So you'd rather make Kuroo happy than take care of your boyfriend?" He tsks and shakes his head. "Not very considerate."

"I would be happy to," you try to pull your chair back but he's still got a firm grip on it and he's much stronger, "if my boyfriend," you quickly dance out of reach as he tries to grab you again, "would let me finish the work for my job. You know...So I don't get fired. Rintarō! Give me back my chair."

"Come get it," he replies with a sly smile.

"Damn you and your stupid athlete's body," you mutter and squat awkwardly at your desk.

"Funny...You said that last night, too, but with a much different tone."

"I'm ignoring you," you sing-song reply.

He huffs and there's a moment of quiet before the unmistakable sound of him climbing out of bed.

You move a moment too late.

"Rin--PUT ME DOWN!" You scramble for a grip on your desk but he's already swept you off the ground, carrying you to the bed. "I HAVE to finish this!"

"Relax." He rolls his eyes as he puts you in bed, goes right back to your desk, and brings your computer back, grabbing the lap desk and neatly arranging the workstation on your legs before climbing-crawling over you and wrapping his ridiculously large body around every bit of you he can. He tucks the blanket around you both. "There. See? Now we can both get what we want."

You don't try to hide your smile as you watch him settle down and snuggle into you, content.

"Stop that," he quips, eyes still closed.

In affectionate mocking you reply "stop what? I'm not doing anything."

He buries his face against your side muttering "you're lucky I love you."

With a grin you turn your attention back to your work. "Yeah,

I am."

home workout | wakatoshi ushijima

summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.

pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience

It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.

You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.

It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.

If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.

He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.

Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.

It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.

You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.

“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.

He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.

“What have I done, my love?”

“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.

His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”

“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.

Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.

It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.

His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.

Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.

That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.

Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.

You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.

“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.

It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.

You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.

“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.

As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.

Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.

Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.

You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.

When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.

“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.

You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.

As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.

He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.

“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.

“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”