Physics My Love

I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favourite

i wanna eat him <3

Nothing just angry sex w/ Bakugou

Not even really angry sex, more like jealous sex cuz that got me- •/////•

GODD, YES. Gonna pass out, this idea is just ... yum. sorry if this isn't coherent/good, I wrote this with very little sleep

I imagine Bakugou is actually quite secure in his relationships, he knows you have eyes for no one but him so it doesn't bother him so much.

But what if this was before you guys got together?

He hadn't made his feelings clear to you, yet, and when he sees that sleazy guy from the floor below in the agency chatting you up at the coffee machine. It has his stomach twisting uncomfortably, his heart dropping to his stomach and he's actually jealous. Jealous of the way you smile at the guy so easily, laugh along with his jokes and he wonders why you're not like that with him.

Bakugou knows it probably looks sketchy when he's cornering you after hours of work, everyone but the security guard who works on the ground floor is gone. He could see the surprised look on your face when he manages to get you pressed against the corridor wall, both his hands pressed on the wall on either side of your head to really cage you in. Didn't even give you the chance to speak, all he could think about is the way you were smiling earlier.

His lips are on yours, and he fully expects you to slap him and push him away but you don't, which only confuses him more. You moan into the kiss and it's all the permission he needs to hoist you up to his height, keeping your back to the wall with your legs tightly around his waist. It escalates pretty quickly, his feelings spilling freely whilst yours finally bubble over the edge.

Bakugou would've never known you felt the same way about him, that you were pining for the grumpy boss. It has him full of excitement but that lingering caress of jealousy has him being a little more forceful in his kisses. It's as if he's trying to imprint himself on you, to make sure you never forget the way his lips feel on yours. Or how his hands fit perfectly on your thighs when he's finally laying you down across his desk in his office after having walked you there.

He wants you to know how expertly he can take care of you, so his hands move precisely yet his touch is still soft when he settles between your thighs finally. It's the only real calm before the storm, his lips murmuring praises against your cheek whilst he works you open for him on his fingers.

The sex itself does start out softer, he's still overwhelmed with the fact that he really has you underneath him finally. Your moans are sweeter than anything he's ever known, your hands soft against his shoulders when he hunches over you to lay delicate kisses along your neck, up along your jaw until he's next to your ear so you can hear the low groan leaving his lips when you squeeze around him.

That's until he again is hit with the remembrance of that fucking idiot at the coffee machine, he had almost forgotten about the incident until you smiled up at him and he's fucking into you a little harder, subconsciously squeezing his hands at your hips a little firmer to make sure you don't escape from his grasp. Manhandling you into a different position, has you bent over his desk on your tiptoes and a hand splayed across your lower back. His eyes locked onto the place where the two of you are joined, and it has him nearly snarling like some wild dog.

"Hah, knew you wanted me, sweetheart." He comments, a pretty moan leaving his mouth when you flutter around him at the sound of his voice. "I knew you'd never go for that fucker from accounting."

You can't even really reply or think of just what the fuck he might mean when he's pushing his hips forward more, towering over you to really push his cock deeper into you at an angle that has you moaning sloppily against the mahogany desk. "Oh," you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head when his hand joins in between your thighs to pinch and swirl against your clit. "Oh fuck, 'm gonna—"

Bakugou fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you're writhing beneath him. Your hips bucking back into him and he has to use both his hands on your waist to keep you pinned beneath him whilst he drives his cock into you until he's spilling deep inside of you. He knows he shouldn't have, but it was like some primal desire. A carnal need to mark you as his, and what better way than filling that pretty pussy with his cum?

No man will ever make you feel that full again.

@sunasbabie — for last year’s bday, christmas, and new years gift bcs ily or whatever 🙄

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

it was made of black denim, bought from some american brand that cost him way more than he’d care to admit. he loved that jacket— he’d worn it over t-shirts in the summer and thick hoodies in the winter. he’d been wearing it on the day of onigiri miya’s grand opening and the day he’d signed with ejp.

he’d also happened to be wearing it the night he met you.

he remembers seeing you the night of atsumu’s new year’s eve party. remembers thinking that your dress was highly impractical because it was sequined and backless but damn— you looked good.

and no matter what osamu thinks he remembers, it did not take him so long to talk to you because he was feeling shy. he was just giving the other guys at the party a chance, is all. he’s nice like that.

atsumu, the drunken idiot that he was, had ended up dragging everyone up onto the roof of his apartment for the countdown. and you, idiot that you were, started shivering 15 seconds into the count, suna watching as you’d rubbed your arms for warmth and and suddenly turned to face, as if you’d felt him watching.

with 30 seconds to midnight and a shove from osamu, he’s closing the distance between you both to say hi. you have his jacket draped over your shoulders by midnight. just because he’s nice like that, not because he’s silently marking his territory and telling potential suitors to fuck off.

he even lets you leave with it, but not before exchanging numbers so you can return it as soon as possible. which you do, showing up at his place the next afternoon, his jacket washed and folded neatly in your arms, offering to buy him lunch as a thanks.

you’re the one wearing it, four months later, when he asks you to be his girlfriend. because ‘it’s just so windy out, rin. you don’t want my dress flying up, right?’

on cooler days, he’s almost sure you forego your own jacket just so you can steal his, and he lets you. you wear it draped over your shoulders when you walk back to his place after a movie. you use it as a blanket during longer car rides. there’s this fatal bug in suna’s system, and it doesn’t let him tell you ‘no.’

you’re wearing it the day you move in. he wasn’t going to make you unpack all your clothes just to find a jacket to wear to lunch.

you’d spent three years stealing that jacket. the denim is soft and well-worn, with a tear or two in the hem, but you love it. and he loves that it still smells like your perfume on the odd day he gets to wear it himself.

maybe that’s why it hurt so much, watching you brush your fingers over it as you pack away your clothes. you’d left every every t-shirt of his you’d slept in, every hoodie you’d claimed, in what was now his closet again.

but for this, you hesitate. a dull ache throbs between his ribs as he watches you hug the fabric to your chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“just take it,” he’d told you quietly from the doorway. “i don’t want it anymore.”

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

_____

it’s almost six months later when you call him for the first time since the breakup.

suna has to do a double take when he sees your contact. mostly because three in the morning and no one should be awake at this hour, but also because he can’t believe it’s you.

his brain and his heart are at a crossroads. he shouldn’t answer. you probably hit the wrong contact. you have other friends in the city, surely you would call one of them if you needed something.

but there’s that flaw again, and suna hits accept.

“hello?”

“rin? rin! hi.”

he sits up in the darkness at the sound of your slurring. “are you drunk?”

“no,” you lie, even hiccuping a little. “i just…i really just wanted to tell you—”

you cut yourself short, sighing. “that you did really good during your game last week.”

he raises his brows slightly, chuckling. “you were watching?”

“no,” you say again, much too quickly. “i just…heard.”

“i know what you sound like when you’re lying,” he reminds you, sliding out of bed and pulling on a hoodie. “and i also know what you sound like when you’re drunk. stay where you are, i’m gonna pick you up.”

you send him your location right away, and he drives over. he calls you to let you know he’s there, because he’s sure you’re not gonna hear your text tone, and when you step out of the bar—

he sees that you’re wearing his jacket.

that damn black denim jacket, american label and all. it hangs off your shoulders loosely, and when suna gets out of the car, he grabs the collar, pulling you closer and pretending not to notice the way you inhale sharply. ignoring your wide-eyed stare as he adjusts the jacket, doing up the buttons because he knows you’re gonna complain about the night chill.

“c’mon,” he says, pulling open the passenger door. “get inside, dumbass.”

the cute pout that downturns your lips is just like suna remembers. he closes the door after you, rounding to the other side of the car.

“did you tell your friends you’re getting home safe?” he asks as he reaches across you to put on your belt. “how come none of them came to get you?”

“oh, uh, yeah i called them but they weren’t answering,” you tell him. “i’ll call them now, just in case.”

suna watches as you fumble with your phone, tapping back and forth through the phone app until he grabs it from your hands with a sigh. he has no idea which one of your friends you’d called, so he goes to your recents.

only to see that he’s the only one you’d called tonight.

IT’S NOT ‘PEEKED’ MY INTEREST

OR ‘PEAKED’

BUT PIQUED

‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’

THIS HAS BEEN A CAPSLOCK PSA

we need these everywhere

UC or ER?

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-William Wordsworth