Thinking About Umemiya Caging You In With His Arms While He's Teaching You How To Garden—his Much Larger,

satoru playing into the whole super dad role, wearing a baby carrier everywhere and mindlessly letting your teething baby chew and slobber all over the tip of his finger to soothe her itty bitty aches. unable to keep his precious baby girl out of sight for a second, barely allowing you to lift a damn finger in the middle of the night as your daughter’s cries rouse the both of you from slumber. sure, satoru slacked off on plenty of things but never when it came to his princess. her diapers full? he was already changing it. breast milk was taking some time to come in? not a problem, he’ll feed her using formula. a sudden sneeze? she must have caught a cold. needless to say, he would do anything for his little girl. he was always alert, having conditioned himself to sleep only a few hours even before the baby was born due to his demanding work schedule. and although you appreciated his consistent efforts and the lengths at which he was willing to go to prove himself a good father — though you knew he would be from the start and he’d done just about enough even while you were pregnant — you would like to spend at least an hour with your baby before she inevitably got whisked away by your husband. but no matter how many times you tried to reason with him that you were completely capable of taking care of the child you birthed for just one night, he’d readily refuse. you’d spent nine months nourishing and caring for his little one in your tummy, and now it was his turn.

My cutie pie

no thoughts only omurice

Y/N : babe, if i died, how much would you miss me?

Gojo: * with a loving smile* it's SOOO CUTE that you think death can get you out of this relationship <3

the language of biting.

NOTE. a teensy bitsy suggestive!

Bakugou doesn’t always say “I love you” with words.

Sure, he can.

He has.

He does.

But more often than not, it’s in the things he does: folding your laundry just the way you like it, memorizing the exact heat setting for your tea, walking on the side of traffic when you two are out (it’s become a habit at this point, and he will get playfully physical with trying to switch places with you if you think otherwise), scowling at people who so much as glance at you too long.

The quiet, loaded things.

Acts of service.

Devotion in motion.

But when you two are alone—when the world outside your apartment fades and it’s just the two of you—his love starts to show in other, more unconventional ways.

Like biting.

It starts off soft, playful, almost lazy.

You’ll be curled on the couch, on his lap, while something plays on the TV, forgotten. Your hand will drift against his surprisingly soft hands, playing with his fingers to flex them open and close as you hum, and he’ll nuzzle closer, burying his face into your thigh or shoulder or collarbone—wherever you are.

Because Bakugou is an unreliable narrator when it comes to you.

And then, without warning—

“Katsuki!”

You gasp, as if he had just committed the most heinous crime, laughing as he runs his canines gently over your skin, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him get away with.

“What?” he mumbles, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You bit me!”

He huffs a short laugh. “Did not.”

“I felt your teeth, you maniac.”

“Didn’t bite,” he says again, leaning in to nip at your collarbone, slow and deliberate this time. “Just a pretend bite. Barely.”

You yelp and try to push him away, palms flat against his shoulders. “What are you, a dog?”

Bakugou smirks against your skin. “You don’t hear me barkin’, do you?”

“Should I take you to the vet? Get your rabies shot?”

His teeth graze you again, this time just on your aching shoulder blade that you’ve been whining about for the past few days. “Too late, dummy.”

He bites down again, this time just enough to leave a fleeting pressure—never enough to bruise, never enough to really hurt, just enough to say, Mine. His hand slides under your hoodie, not in a lewd way, but to rest warm against your waist as he presses his teeth into the curve of your shoulder.

“Why is this your favorite?”

“Because you’re soft.”

“That’s not a reason to bite me.”

“Or maybe you could just admit that I’m cute when I do it.”

“Cute? You just bit me like a teething baby!”

He quietly sighs and leans up higher, bringing his face close to yours now. “Wasn’t tryna hurt you. Just…” He pauses, nose brushing yours. “‘s weird, but I like doin’ it. That ok?”

Bakugou never bites when he’s angry. Never in frustration. Only when he’s calm, or smug, or holding you close and soaking in the way you fit perfectly in his arms. The biting isn’t possessive in the toxic way. It’s intimate. Familiar. He doesn’t even realize how often he does it.

Your expression softens at that, because of course it does. How could it not? His voice had gone quiet, and his brows were furrowed in that shy, self-conscious way that only ever comes out when he’s being sincere.

“You do know biting me isn’t how humans mark territory, right?” you tease.

His ears turn pink at the tip. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m serious. Should I be worried? Is this like… a feral wolfboy thing?”

“Keep talkin’ and I will bite harder.”

You snort and lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re still in my lap.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“Never said I wasn’ lucky.”

But then, just as you relax again—he strikes. A soft, precise bite just behind your ear this time around. His canines dig in just enough to make you squirm, though there’s no pain. Just the warm press of his lips a moment later.

“Katsuki!”

You could feel him smile against your skin. “Couldn’t help it. You smell too good.”

“You are—insane. You are absolutely feral.”

“You’re still not movin’.”

“Because you’re hugging me like a bear, idiot.”

“Guess you can’t do anythin’ about it now, huh?”

And then he’s peppering kisses along your shoulder—soft ones, a little too sweet to match the devilish glint in his eye—interrupted every few seconds by little nips. Not enough to leave marks. Just enough to feel. Enough to make you shiver and laugh and squirm under his touch until you're warm and breathless from giggling.

Eventually, you push him away with both hands, heaving in breaths. “You need a warning label.”

“I’ve got a hero license. Close enough.”

“I’m gonna make you get a rabies shot.”

“Go ahead. Long as you’re there to hold my hand.”

You roll your eyes, but the affection behind it is undeniable. “You’re the worst.”

“And still your favorite.”

You sigh, defeated, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m married to someone who bites like a baby who’s just now getting their baby teeth.”

He grins, closing his eyes. “Better get used to it.”

“You done?”

“…Maybe.”

“Katsuki.”

“…Okay, okay. I’m done.”

. . .

“…For now.”

“If those leave a mark—I will make you do laundry by yourself next week.”

And Bakugou, pleased as hell with himself, gives you one final, barely-there bite to your shoulder and murmurs, “Love you too.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched away from him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

##/ there goes my baby; katsuki bakugou

litch small drabble to help me get back about bakugo liking to stare at you

katsuki always had his eyes on you, you could be doing the most mundane things on earth and his eyes would still never leave you - that was how everyone could tell he had feelings for you, no matter how much he denies it.

because, honestly? he didn’t even notice he was looking at you.

it was so natural, innate even. he just gravitated towards you, because you had the power to dazzle anything and make it you.

and you were special, gorgeous, amazing, beautiful and whatever other adjectives he could learn to call you.

it was weird, it’s like he felt proud to even know you, that you can call his name like a sirens call and summon him at your beck and call (because he truly would do anything you asked him to).

so yeah, maybe katsuki had a little staring problem.

it’s not like you don’t notice, you always do and you love it.

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

The afternoon was quiet, with the sun gently filtering through the window. You were sitting on the couch, with Bakugou lying face down on your legs, his head resting against your belly.

—This doesn't mean anything…— he murmured with his eyes closed as you absentmindedly played with his hair.

You smiled without saying anything, letting your fingers slide through his blonde locks. He growled lowly, but didn't move away, on the contrary, he seemed to settle better against you.

—Are you falling asleep? —You asked quietly.

—Shut up... it's just comfortable.

His tone was stubborn, but the slow pace of his breathing gave it away. His hand, which had previously rested at his side, moved to gently hold the fabric of your shirt, as if he was unintentionally seeking to make sure you were still there.

You continued to stroke his hair with a smile, and soon after, you felt his grip relax.

Bakugou had fallen asleep on your lap.

First time makin out with Bakugo.

suggestive!!

Ur laying down, splayed on top of him, but who can say anything about it? You saw the black tee and sweatpants combo he flaunts while he was casually making food in the kitchen. You’d practically jumped him.

But he didn’t mind; his temper deteriorates later into the night, so the only thing he can feel right now is your fingers wrapped around his neck and your lips slowly dancing against his. Not that he had much of a temper around you anyway.

He groans satisfactorily in the back of his throat. The pads of his fingers creep up the thighs sat on either side of his hips and trickle just under the fabric of your shorts. There was no point getting under the covers of the dark bedroom, the only light came from a candle on the dresser from sometime earlier when you were cleaning, and the only sounds emanated from you two.

That moment he gently tugs your lip between his teeth, just to release it and grin tiredly when you hum in response. At the same time, you shift above him, turning your head into a deeper kiss.

His lips are so soft. They move perfectly against yours, molding like they were made for each other. He looks so content like this, sharing a sultry kiss with you, his body completely relaxed. Mostly.

Your tongue slips out to meet with his as if it had been done a billion times. His touch sends fire through your skin, and with each movement he gets even closer, your heart feels like it’s about to pound through your ribs; however, despite how it appears to be, he is in the same breathless boat. Your hand only disconnects from him to brush the falling tendrils of hair behind your ear.

There was a hardness growing beneath you that made your heart beat ten times faster, but nothing was done about it. He ignored it—instead trailing one of his palms up and down the span of your back while the other reaches a little further.

His brows furrow a bit when he inquires as softly as possible, in his gruff voice, “You’re not wearin’ anything under these tiny shorts?”

You dip your head back to his lips, taking them in sensually. Of course, he returns it, but the question is left in the air. Your mouth leaves his so you can leave slow, needy kisses along his jaw that gradually cover his neck, and when you come back up, the answer is given as a whisper. “Hmm…thong.”

He blinks open his orbs swimming with fire and a glint of amusement. The hand on your back then moves to your nape so he can tug you down to him, already feeling the withdrawal of your taste. Simultaneously, his fingers inch all the way up until he can feel the garment himself.

He effortlessly slips his finger under the thin string and lifts it until he can’t anymore so that it delicately snaps back into place. His tongue soars deeper into yours when you react with a small gasp.

He smiles with a low sound deep in his chest, “Seems like you want somethin’ from me.”

“I do,” you breathe. “Didn’t wear it for nothing.”

It’s then he rolls over, taking you with him onto your back.

©️hxltic

Bakugou Katsuki, who absentmindedly starts touching you at random.

Like, you’ll be lounging on your bed, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok while Katsuki watches a game on TV, and suddenly, you feel his hands gently massaging your feet. And honestly, this man is incredible with his hands. (😉)

Or imagine this: you're standing in front of the mirror in your closet, calmly putting on your jewelry when he walks up from behind, already finished. His eyes lock onto yours, and before you know it, you feel his hands slide onto your hips. You smile as you feel him squeezing the softness of them, and jokingly push him back so you can grab your shoes. He still follows you around tho with his hands still firmly resting on your hips.

Or maybe you’re just lying on the couch with him, your head resting on his chest as you slowly drift off to sleep. You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you wake up to the sound of Katsuki's phone as he scrolls through it, and the feeling of his hands gently cradling the back of your neck. His fingers slowly move upward, absentmindedly massaging your scalp and nape while he watches boxing matches.

Ugggghhhh, or what about when you’re cooking dinner for the two of you? You’re standing at the stove, switching between seasoning one pot and checking on another, when you hear Katsuki walk up behind you. He asks if you need help, but you shake your head and smile at him, reassuring him he can just relax. Instead of walking away, though, he sighs dramatically and leans his whole weight onto your back, his hands wrapping around your waist.

"Kats careful I'm gonna burn myself."

"My bad mama."

So, he leans back and rests his head on your shoulder, just watching you cook. His hands move up and down your arms, and whenever you shift to do something, he starts rubbing your side instead.

Katsuki has a degree in being touch-starved, and he doesn't even realise it. But you? You absolutely love it.