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kangjaehee · 2 years ago

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RFA + sex headcanons

because i am in a Mood. minors do not interact

content under the cut

YOOSUNG.

SUBBY.

like... very. He likes it when u take control.

He likes it when you’re mean to him, when you demand, when you give him no choice but to do as you say if he wants to be a good boy for you.

Humiliation is his shit kinda... he says he doesn’t like it when you highlight how sensitive he is but you, who sees how he trembles at every word you say, you know different.

And on that regard... he’s sensitive. Like, the slightest touch and the right words can crumble him into a whimpering mess within seconds. You’re actually quite shocked. But you absolutely love it.

And he’s loud, too. Doesn’t at all hold back his cries, which sound oh so beautiful to you.

Very into pet play. Likes when you take care of him, likes the element of humiliation that comes with being treated like an animal.

Make him do the gross embarrassing things. Make him eat from a bowl and bark. It gets him off.

Surprisingly, he’s not that much into physical pain or impact, just the control element of it all. He likes it as part of something else, but not in and of itself.

Actually he gets off more in the concept of punishment than the act itself... it urges him on. You think it’s cute. It makes him harder to hear your little dismissive laugh after he whines.

He finishes quite fast but my god does he have stamina. He can go for rounds and rounds that leave you asking for a break.

it turns out all those lolol all nighters he pulled did actually mean something....

Also: the idea of you taking care of him while he’s in the middle of a game??? and not letting him cum until he wins????? GOD it makes him melt.

Very kissy during aftercare. Also very talkative.

You actually have no idea how a person can have this much energy after cumming so many times but hey this is Kim Yoosung we’re talking about.

He doesn’t sext but he does call you to tell you how needy he is. Over the line, you hear him stroke himself to your voice. It makes you lose your mind.

ZEN.

this man has 1 goal and 1 goal only: making you feel good

service top pleasure dom whatever you wanna call it. He just wants you to feel loved and sexy and give you the orgasm of your life.

He likes feeling you. Groping your thigh, manhandling you, kissing you red and raw.

(of course, all while he praises you and tells you how unbelievably gorgeous you are...)

And you absolutely love it. It makes you feel wanted, powerful.

Active sex drive. Y’all do it every other day or so. Not always for long. But it’s an integral part of your relationship.

He’d do it anywhere. In the kitchen, living room, bathroom, car... He doesn’t need to be comfortable, he just needs his hands and your body to touch.

But don’t misinterpret him, he loves planned affairs too. Especially when you go out of your way to set the mood with lighting and scents and stuff.

LOVES it when you dress up for him. Put on some cute lingerie and sit there, watching as he turns beet red and his breath deepens.

And send him pics. be the biggest tease you can be. Anything relating to you drives him crazy. In his eyes, you’re the sexiest being on the planet, no matter what anyone has told you.

Although keep in mind that he Will warn u about the power u have over him and The Beast potentially coming out at an unwanted moment...

You always tell him to be patient and wait, as if that’s not exactly what you’re after. The Beast always comes out when he gets home though, with him absolutely devouring you in kisses.

Stamina for days... like come on let’s be real he’s a musical theatre performer. He’s Never done.

Not very kinky but has a thing for breeding? creampieing? He wants to claim you, to have something of his inside you.

...And you don’t hate the idea but Babe don’t you think we’re... too young for kids?

Oh my God sorry I didn’t mean it like that... But, hey, don’t you think I’d make a good dad ;)?

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Also he’s not so opposed to the idea of bondage... to have unrestricted access to your body like that (or you to his...)

Surpisingly likes toys. If they make the experience better for you... (and he wants to try them too, though he’s not gonna admit it).

He’s not very keen on being on the receiving end. Doesn’t exactly like not being the one in charge, but he relents every once in a while.

He particularly loves blowjobs. He thinks you look so stupidly sexy while doing them, and the way he flusters and bites his lip... it’s so cute

(One day you’re gonna get him on his knees for you, one day.)

JAEHEE.

Although the tension between you two and the desire you harbored for each other was undeniable, it took you quite a while to get intimate.

When you crossed that threshold, though... Well, let’s just say there was no return.

Lots of kissing. Before, during, and after. She kisses you intensely, with purpose, like she wants to eat you whole. It’s a bit overwhelming. Makes you wonder for how long she’s been saving this.

Quick, does not hesitate. Teases very little, goes straight to it, and has you shaking and remembering nothing but her name in a matter of miniutes.

Stupidly skilled with her hands. They’re good for so many more things other than kneading dough...

Absolutely loves to hear your moans and other sounds. It urges her on. Please be as loud as you possibly can.

The sight of her large honey eyes looking up at you while she’s eating you out has to be one of your favorites.

But while she absolutely adores being the one to take care of you, she actually pefers it the other way around...

And you do too. Because, my god this woman is the cutest being in the universe when she’s flustered. And it’s extremely easy to fluster her.

All it takes is a smile, a kiss, a remark on how wet she is for you... and boom. You’ve reduced her to a mess of whimpers. She’s sensitive and easy to crack.

And it’s funny because all the while you’ll see her trying desperately to hold onto the propriety that she’s so known for. But soon enough it’s gone and she’s cursing and pleading.

You love to tease her because of this. She groans like she hates it but actually doesn’t, actually wants you to do it, draw this out as long as you can. It makes her climax much more satisfying.

She loves when u play with her boobs. Bite them, mark them, grab them, pinch them, maybe slap them if the occasion requires it...

Two words: Praise. Kink.

...Yeah she very obviously has it.

Tell her how well she’s doing no matter what it is that she’s doing. How good she is at taking your fingers down her pretty wet cunt. How well she’s sucking on your clit. It makes her feel like she’s in heaven.

And of course, tell her how she’s a good girl, how she’s your good girl. And watch her fucking dissolve.

(...yeah she’s quite a sub).

She’s into some other stuff... classics like bondage and the occasional spank, more adventurous stuff like wax play.

She likes sexual experimentation. She’d try most things once, just to have the experience, as long as they’re safe, sane, and consensual.

She has quite a bit of stamina and can last long, although she doesn’t exactly like cumming many times in a row or overstimulation in general. Instead, she prefers being edged until she can barely hold it in.

She also cries. It shocked you the first time, but... she cries when cumming.

And after you’re done, she’s always extremely tender and soft, wanting to cling to you for long. You always reassure her, tell her how good she did. Often you like to shower after, or eat something together. Cuddles after sex are mandatory but always remember to get up and do your necessities.

You guys don’t do it often, and don’t like to do it quick. The Jaehee motto is “If you’re going to do anything, do it how it’s supposed to be done” and that applies to sex. But that just makes the encounters you do have all the more special.

JUMIN

for someone whose only experience is having explored his best firend’s body once out of “curiosity” he’s surprisingly very good.

(JUMINV REAL i will die on this hill. i am cheritz actually.)

instinct-driven. doesn’t hesitate. takes you in whole.

composure and propriety thrown out the window, he will make you his. he’s gonna make sure that you forget your own name and only remember his, that you forget everything else but the feeling of his hands on your body and how he pounds inside you.

It’s not hard to get him going. Like at all. Just kiss him deep the way he likes it, grind agaist him, and bam.

He likes to tease verbally, you like grinding against my thigh, love? but not a lot. Eventually his desire to just have you wins him over.

It’s possessive, yes, but it’s his way of showing you just how much he wants you and no one else. You think of it as almost a privilege to be loved so deeply by someone.

Loves marking you, biting into you and then seeing the pretty purple bruises that from, that mark you as irrevocably his. Kisses you a lot during and after. A lot of You’re mines coming out of his mouth.

Also, he loves hearing your moans. And you love hearing his.

It’s actually very funny to tease him, because it’s very easy and he tries to make it subtle. Just push out your shoulder, watch as his face gets red and he swallows, struggling to keep his poise.

And then God save you, because he will not hold back...

You guys do it often. It’s a way for him to destress, so it’s almost a daily affair. A little quickie before bed and after waking up never hurt anyone...

Doesn’t like doing it in public, likes it when it’s just the two of you, though he for sure likes teasing you in public... You’ve given him a handjob in the limo in more than one occasion.

He’s averagely kinky. Likes bondage. Likes calling you his kitten. Likes slapping your ass when you’re both really into it. Not much beyond that.

The dominant position is comfortable to him, he can let his desires run wild and free, and you like how he exerts his power, how he’s so confident. It almost lights you up.

Though he also has a strange, almost hidden desire for the other side of the coin... he likes being the one with the power taken away, too.

It always oddly attracted him, but he never paid attention to those desires, as they made no sense. But then you suddenly decided to be more dominant one time, and oh boy something awoke in him.

It’s not very easy for him to submit and let go. But it’s extremely liberating once he does so. For a man who has to be thinking and making decisions and bearing more responsibility on his shoulders than any person could imagine, being in a position where he doesn’t have to make any of the decisions is almost cathartic.

He likes being your kitten. Likes the sight of you above him, holding him by a leash and smiling, just as much as he loves the sight of you under him.

Likes impact quite a bit, actually. More on him than on you. It’s a little humiliating to imagine the heir of one of Korea’s biggest conglomerates being spanked raw. But that’s inexplicably a turn-on.

Likes latex a lot. The sight of you on it is pure art.

Also into shibari. Likes the intricacy of it, the protocol, the fact that it’s an art form.

Lot’s of stamina, doesn’t cum easily. Will always make sure you’re the one to finish first or with him. Prefers to cuddle after, sometimes for hours, tightly and in silence or with just a few words exchanged. It’s the act of bodies becoming one, of feeling being not said but expressed in the way his skin contacts with yours.

SEVEN.

Okay so wbk this man is a menace. This applies to sex too.

Most of the time, it’s sloppy and imporvised. Undeliberate, hands everywhere, kisses all over the face. He doesn’t think, and you don’t either. It’s almost funny.

A tease, just because he absolutely loves to see you riled up and begging for it. But, do it a bit aggressively. He’s a bit of a brat. He pushes, and wants you to push back and push harder.

He doesn’t need things at all to be fancy, he can have fun with very little. He’s creative.

But you know what his absolute shit is?? Roleplay.

He does it almost naturally. Has fun with it. Likes the performance element, the not being himself, the play. It’s a way for him to take advantage of all the costumes he’s kept form his agency days.

You’ve found him on more than one occasion just weasring a maid dress and pretending to clean... The indirect was caught and enacted upon.

He’s kind of a jack of all trades. He can top, he can bottom, he can take the strap and rail you until walking is an arduous task.

freak in the streets and the sheets. Truly willing to try anything once.

Pain enjoyer. Likes spanking you, and likes you doing it to him too.

Also likes overstimulation. Edge him, then let him cum, and do not let him stop... just let him go off like that.

Lots and lots of stamina. And also just fucking dies after. Does everything and then five minutes after he’s absolutely fucking spent. To you, it’s shocking. To go from being so loud to being so still...

Likes to kiss during foreplay, but not much during or after. Prefers to tease with words or just let the actions speak for themselves.

One thing about Choi Saeyoung: he’s a romantic partner and extremely entertaining lover. You can trust that stuff will never get repetitive on him. Always switching it up... in all ways possible.

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strafepanzer · 2 years ago

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atmospheric | act i: cumulus

masterlist | act i | act ii | act iii

a @mybigbangacademia collab with @54prowl

rating: explicit (for future themes)

word count: 9.4k

tags: katsuki’s sailor tongue, staged (and non-staged) meet cutes, mentions of grief

a/n: oh my lord, i thought this would never come to fruition! i wanna thank @kweenkatsuki @kingkatsuki @karikarasuno and especially @54prowl for keeping me sane throughout this! thank you for reading my stuff and screaming about it and helping me through writers block and just being there for me when i was at my most anxious. i adore you all so so much!

“Hell fucking no.” Katsuki laughs. Laughs at the gall, at the sheer audacity. “I don’t need this. Why the fuck would I need this?”

His publicist shares a look with the rep from The Hero Commission. “Bakugo,” she takes a breath, clenches her jaw a little. He’s known Kira for a long time, knows she honestly tries to do what’s best for him, what he needs. “You could be number one.” She states confidently. “And I’m gonna be candid here, because we’re not strangers; I’ve been with you for six long years,” she doesn’t break eye contact with him, if anything she leans into him more. “I’m frustrated. It’s goddamn frustrating watching you sit at six. Six? You’re Dynamight.”

“That’s right!” The rep all but throws his hands up in the air. “Dynamight! You always catch the bad guy! Your merch is one of our best selling lines, you always file your work correctly— and on time!” He stresses, blue eyes as big and bright as All Might’s were. “Your issue is popularity, the polls; you don’t take fan pics, you don’t sign merch—“

“That’s not the point of bein’ a fucking hero—“

“We don’t want you to change, Bakugo, that’s the whole point of this. You don’t have to become a whole different person; in fact, we don’t really expect you to do much, especially during the first few months of the project.” The Project. He wants to snort, to cross his arms and lean back in his chair, show his disinterest; but, shit, he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t admit sitting at six didn’t drive him up the wall.

“It’ll just start with a chance meeting here, another there, just so social media can get wind of it, and rumours can spread.” Kira relaxes a little, frown lines evening out as she takes in Anderson’s excited vibes. Katsuki huffs a little, meets her eyes. “We’ve had a team working on your story for a while.”

“Story…” he tests the word in his mouth as his brows draw together. “So there’s a script?”

“We have a timeline and set meetings,” Anderson smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Some social media stories we’ll need you to post, more she has to post; but as far as a script goes… it’s more of the direction we need you to go in.”

Katsuki sighs, grabs the surprisingly heavy booklet they presented to him earlier in the meeting. GOLDFISH takes up most of the cover page in giant letters, a corny TOP SECRET stamped in red takes up the rest of it; fucking stupid, dramatic, pretentious Hero Commission shit. He flips through the pages, glosses over the words until he gets to a sub heading titled Chance Meeting One.

They’re lucky he doesn’t peg the fucking book at Anderson.

Subject A bumps into Subject B on the red carpet. Subject B stumbles, Subject A steadies them, asks if they are okay. The two share a look, then get back to business. Paparazzi in the vicinity—

“So, if I’m subject A, who’s the mysterious Subject B?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm as he tosses the book back onto the table. He’s mildly surprised— concerned, even?— when neither of them jump to tell him.

“We can’t… tell you… until you sign the contract.” Kira says quietly, the nerves he’s so accustomed to seeing, creeping back onto her face.

His scowl must deepen astronomically, because she turns to Anderson with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re not the only hero suffering in the popularity polls.” Anderson shrugs, gesturing with his hands. “Kira’s just been meticulous about you getting the boost. In reality, this would be a good deal for all of the top 10 heroes.”

Katsuki feels his eye twitch.

“Shouto, for example, isn’t that great with social cues, tends to shy away from media; he’s already at three, we could get him higher.” Anderson is 100% goading him, and Katsuki knows it, but it’s working.

“Is she a hero?”

“No,” his agent says confidently. “She’s not in the business, not a part of the commission either.”

“She’s well-loved, fawned over. Attractive.” Anderson turns to Kira. “Would you say so?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. We’d never set you up for failure, Bakugo, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” he huffs, slightly agitated. “I just don’t wanna drop in the polls.” He grumbles, glare set on Anderson. “Do they know it’s me?”

“Nope, she just knows you’re a hero.” He answers with a toothy smile.

Katsuki presses on. “Does she know I’m in top 10?”

“Her contract states it’ll be a hero in the top 50.” He shoots back, unblinking.

“Just say yes Bakugo, I promise it’ll be worth it.” Kira interjects, eyes hopeful. “And hey, you might actually really like her.”

Katsuki’s snort of laughter is loud. “Doubt it.” He grabs the book and flicks through the pages again, what’s the harm in taking it home and having a read? “Do I have to decide now?”

“Yes.” They answer together, Anderson steadfast and Kira flat.

“Really?”

“No time like the present.” The rep shrugs, the Cheshire grin on his face only growing with Katsuki’s frustration.

“You’re a real fucking ass you know that?” The hero grumbles, throwing his glare over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the view of the setting sun from their vantage point on the 47th floor of the Hero Commission.

“The sooner you sign, the sooner we get the ball rolling.” Anderson drums the table like a fucking salesman.

And Katsuki signs the contract.

—

Katsuki still lives in the same apartment he bought when he was a rookie. Granted, back then this place was far too good for him, with its timber floorboards, prime location, and it’s five burner stainless steel natural gas cooktop. The previous owner was selling to move abroad; a retired chef who allowed Katsuki a walkthrough of the place as a ‘favour’ to one of Aizawa’s friends.

She—the chef— must’ve seen something in Katsuki when his eyes roamed the sparkling appliances, the range hood, the dishwasher, the fridge, because she accepted his offer, and he’d moved in the next week. It wasn’t until Eijirou had mentioned a couple months into living there, that his bathroom tiles were pink, that Katsuki had even noticed; that’s just how smitten he was with that fucking kitchen.

Now, years later, he feels shitty looking at his commercial grade kitchen.

When was the last time he cooked? Shit, the only time he even uses his kitchen is when he makes himself an instant coffee before work, or reheats takeout from the night before. He’s so busy at TDA, so busy bagging baddies and fighting crime and filing fucking paperwork that he’s gotta eat and run, with the shitty haired idiot eating into his days off with god damned babysitting duties at his place.

Katsuki sinks into the worn leather of his camel coloured couch, A4 envelope in his hand. He should open it, should find out who exactly this mystery girl is, should prepare. Instead, he sighs, tosses the crisp wad of paper onto the seat next to him, runs a hand down his face.

If even one person finds out he’s doing this, he’s over.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands drawing down his face, crimson staring into the white of his ceiling, the elaborate cornices joining the muted grey of his walls. Bare walls.

The chef had paintings on the walls, heavy velvet curtains over the windows, colourful rugs, buffets covered in photos, house plants, and so much furniture. But Katsuki— young and pretentious— didn’t get that. He liked how huge the apartment seemed without it all, how high the ceilings felt, how large the rooms were.

Now, as much as he’s loathe to admit it, it feels kinda lonely.

But, he’ll do what he usually does when that nagging emptiness nips at his ankles, when he’s alone and actually feeling it: he’ll head to TDA. He’ll get to work, ignore Deku and that half and half bastard when they tell him they’ve got everything covered, ignore sparky when he teases him about not having a life, ignore pink cheeks when she reminds him for the millionth time he’s not getting paid overtime.

With a heaved sigh, he sits forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. That envelope glares at him from the other side of the two seater lounge, sitting there as if it’s some kind of placeholder, as if the girl herself is going to materialise next to him if he dares to open it.

He doesn’t open it.

—

TDA—The Deku Agency (yeah, stupid fucking name)— is lively in the afternoons. Heroes and rookies mingle with civvies in the foyer, sitting at cozy little tables and ordering overpriced drinks and cakes from the café Deku had installed in the far corner of the lobby in a bid to improve relations between them. The Commission loved it.

Katsuki uses the back door.

He takes the maintenance elevator up to the office floor and wordlessly finds his desk, revels in the pssssssht as he sinks into the bright orange, high-backed ergolux. It’s comfy for an office chair, just the right amount of worn in, without the irritation of squeaky screws his old chair had.

“Don’t you have today off?” Icyhot’s glare is blank, cold soba (probably) noodles suspended between the chopsticks held at lip level.

“None’a your business, half ‘n’ half.” Katsuki glares back heatedly, spinning in his chair to face his monitor. It, too, is… orange. Just like Deku’s is broccoli green, and round cheeks’ is pink, and fucking half ‘n’ half’s is… half red, half icy blue. According to Deku, some computer company brought out a whole range of hero inspired computers in a collab with the Commission and he just had to get one for everyone; with matching chairs.

The colours throw off the serenity the floor could have, with its glossy white floors, floor to ceiling windows, the greenery delicately placed around the space. But, that’s Deku and Pink Cheeks to a tee, and the icyhot asshole just goes along with whatever half-baked plan the two of them conspire.

“Was it expensive?” Todoroki presses, those eyes still staring holes into Katsuki.

“Haah?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he’s tense as it is, so that red glare of his is burning through Shouto in an instant.

“The fine? Property damage, Uraraka thinks, but my money’s on defamation?” He says it with such disinterest, that it almost takes Katsuki off guard.

“It was a meeting, dipshit; about my career. I don’t have any outstanding fines.” He almost snarls, irritation a growling monster in his gut. “Asshole.” He adds, filing away Ochako’s involvement in the back of his mind. He’ll call her out for it later; she’s always the one putting ridiculous ideas in that two-toned space cadet’s head.

“Ah, sorry.” He hears him mumble back, followed by a loud slurp that makes Katsuki’s left eye twitch.

“You should be.” The blonde huffs, irritation mounting at the lack of sincerity in his voice. “Who the hell did you think was suing me?”

“Hm? Didn’t you badmouth Grand on Twitter last week?”

Katsuki actually laughs. “If that asshole wants to go to battle, he’ll need to be ready for fucking war.”

“What was the meeting about, then? Your public image? Are they mad at you?”

Yes and no.

“You’re awfully chatty today.”

“Well, I’m having a meeting next week,” Shouto admits, piquing Katsuki’s interest; he swivels in his chair, watches his friend as he plays with his noodles absentmindedly. “Just… Don’t know what to expect.”

“Oh.” Is all Katsuki can really say. He vaguely remembers Shouto mentioning something about almost slipping in the polls, and although he’s higher than Katsuki, he bets his own agent’s been getting a beat down from the Commission. While they don’t really care who sits at number one, they do care when merch sales drop and social media interaction is low.

“I just hate… all of that extra stuff. All of the unnecessary competition that comes along with this job. Reminds me of… Father.” As if sensing he’s stepped a foot wrong (for once in his life), Shouto mumbles a sorry and turns back towards his computer screen.

Normally, a mention of Shouto’s father leaves a bittersweet taste in Katsuki’s mouth, has him turning cheek to cheer his friend up in his own asshole-y way… but guilt nips at his heels. Guilt that his contract might actually have him surpassing Shouto with a leg-up Katsuki doesn’t technically need. Katsuki isn’t Shouto; he’s a prick on purpose, not out of childhood trauma-induced ignorance. Katsuki knows that the things he says and his shitty actions have god damned consequences.

Todoroki’s just a little weird.

Fuck, another reason to feel shitty about signing that fucking contract.

After a few moments, Shouto’s slurping starts again, giving Katsuki the green light to get his head out of his ass. He turns back to his own computer, taps the space bar a few times to wake it up, and logs into the portal.

Time to catch up on some incident reports.

—

The Kirishima Household is lovely. Pro Hero Red Riot bought a place out in the ‘burbs when he got married, a semi-renovated two-storey place with a yard. It’s hard to find a place with a yard so close to the city, especially on rookie hero wages. The place has three bedrooms upstairs, with the living and dining, kitchen, and bath and toilet downstairs; Eijirou’s been trying to convince Katsuki to claim the third bedroom as his, even bought him an alarm clock and an All Might sheet set for the bed, but Katsuki chronically takes the couch.

When he comes over the night before the Gala to watch Akari, the father-daughter duo are playing MarioKart. Katsuki shakes his head at them— concealing his grin— and takes his groceries to the kitchen, set on making dinner for the two of them before Ei has to head off to work.

He must be thinking too hard, the anxiety of the Gala etched on his face, because Eijirou is hovering.

The red head’s also giving him the look.

Between serving his little girl dinner— which Katsuki assured him, he could do— getting his shit together for his shift, and making small talk with Katsuki, he keeps staring. It’s the goading look; the one that says: hey man, I know something’s wrong, but you’re just gonna say nothin’ if I ask, so I’m gonna need you to tell me.

Katsuki’s not gonna tell him.

He can’t.

What, just come out with a: yeah, I actually accepted an offer from the Commission to fake date someone in order for my public perception to improve, so I’ll climb the popularity polls. No chance in hell; not even if the place froze over.

Sure, if anyone were to understand, it’d probably be Eijirou. Either him, Deku, or Shouto, but… he just can’t. Especially with Red Riot sitting at number 8.

Katsuki has to usher him out the door at 6pm, has to pretend he’s fine, and that nothing’s bothering him; he even tries to give Ei a reassuring smile as he hops on his motorbike, but thinking back on that moment, it probably only worsens his perception of Katsuki. Since when does he smile and wave him off to work?

Shit.

He settles onto the sofa next to Ei’s mini me after tidying the kitchen and tossing a load of laundry in the wash. A replay of the morning news should relax him a little, should take his mind off this stupid Gala, the stupid red carpet, the stupid fucking contractual dating.

The news anchors are achingly boring, droning on about the finance sector, the stock market; Deku’s into all that shit, pulled Katsuki into investing almost a decade ago. The idiot even told Katsuki not to waste his first hero pay check on stupid stuff… then went ahead and bought some 160,000Y All Might figure that looked achingly out of place on his coffee table in his tiny loft studio apartment.

Then he’s on the news, a flash of blonde and green and orange flying through the sky. He’d apprehended a villain last night, and the news loves reporting on all of the property damage that usually comes along with Katsuki’s quirk; he’s gotten so good at holding back, but since signing the contract, he knows he’s been acting a little more recklessly. And of course, snakey fucking journalists have to jump on that. Reminds him how much he fucking hates the news.

At least the weather girl’s cute.

“Uncle Kats? You okay?” Akari blinks, looking up from her iPad. She’s the spit out of her father’s mouth with those big red eyes and inky black hair, not to mention how much she loves Katsuki. Must run in the Kirishima genes.

“Why d’ya ask, kiddo?”

“I knew it,” she sighs, pulling her feet underneath her as she locks her iPad. “Dad’s got another girlfriend, doesn’t he? You always get weird like this when he’s seeing someone.”

Katsuki snorts laughter. “Always? Your dad has dated two people since you’ve been alive.”

“You’re acting weird!” She argues, arms gesturing wildly.

“You’re ten, you have no idea what weird even is.” He brushes her off, hoping to relive her of her street, but unable to do it nicely. He doesn’t really do nice.

“Dad was staring at you funny, and you were being weird.” She scrunches her little nose up at him, and Katsuki knows he’s not getting out of this conversation without putting a little bit of work in.

“Your dad stares at me funny all the time, squirt; you should’ve seen him when we were in high school.”

“He looked worried.” Akari frowns, because it is strange when Ei’s not being carefree.

Still, he’s gonna pretend he didn’t notice. “Did he?”

“Yeah and you did too!” She accuses, voice rising, annoyed. “Like, right up until now”

“So, because we both look worried, your dad’s dating again.” Its not a question, it’s her conclusion.

“Yeah, because he’s worried you’ll tell me, and you’re worried you have to keep it a secret. You don’t, by the way, I’m double digits now, so you can trust me with your secrets, I promise, Uncle Kats.” She bats those lashes at him, eyes shining with what he can only call mirth. The one thing she seemed to pick up from Katsuki after all these years babysitting.

He sighs, midway between impressed at her reasoning skills, and bummed that he can’t give her the answers she’s looking for. Still, he lets out a low whistle. “Double digits, huh? Sounds like you’re too old to hang out with Uncle Kats at the parlour.”

Seems like redirection still works for pre-teens, because her ruby reds light up like it’s Christmas. “You said you’re too famous to go out in public!”

“Are you arguing with ice cream, squirt?” He fakes a glower, sends her a little glare that can only be taken as playful.

“No way!” She bounces from the couch and practically runs to the landing. “I’m just gonna put my coat and shoes on!” She calls, talking way too fast. But then her little face pokes back around the corner, brows furrowed. “No take-backs.” She glares, wary.

He sighs, rubs a huge scarred hand over his too tired face. “No take backs.” He shrugs, shaking his head.

Akari seems content to leave his sight after that, her fast footfalls trekking up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming open. Meanwhile, he sinks a little into the sofa, annoyed with himself; mostly for acting so obviously emotional in front of a child, but also for promising her ice cream.

Looks like a beanie, face mask, and sunglasses type of night.

—

Eijirou rolls up the driveway a long thirteen hours after he left.

Katsuki’s made Eijirou a decaf tea— he’s gotta sleep today, and all that— and he’s stirring his coffee with a teaspoon as he leans against the countertop in the kitchen, eyes on the front door in anticipation. He needs to talk to him, needs to reassure his best friend that he’s okay, that there’s not really anything wrong.

Tell him what’s going on without explicitly telling him what’s going on.

“Daddy’s home!” He calls, bursting into the house with far too much energy for coming off an overnight shift.

“Dude, she’s asleep.”

“What?” His face falls, eyes darting around the kitchen like Katsuki’s telling lies. “It’s seven am, she’s got school this morning.” He grows more panicked by the second. “The bus gets here at seven-fifty—“

“Eiji, c’mon, all she’s gotta do is get up, get dressed, and eat breakfast.” Katsuki grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“How are you letting her sleep in? I knew it, something’s wrong. You were acting so weird last night, but this is… this is worse.” He dumps his work bag at his feet, puts his hands on his hips and gives him those god damn puppy eyes that are generally reserved for begging Katsuki to go somewhere with him. “You’re harder on her schedule than I am, Katsuki.”

Katsuki sighs, steps over to rinse his teaspoon in the sink. “I took her out for ice cream last night, and we stayed out past her bedtime, so I told her I’d let her sleep in until seven-thirty.” He picks up Eijirou’s tea, hold it out for him to take. “I’m fine, really, it’s just a work thing.”

Eijirou accepts the mug, takes a few steps to sit at his four-seater dining table. “A work thing you can’t tell your best bud about.”

“It’s—“ Katsuki hesitates, taking his coffee with him to joint Eijirou at the table. “The Hero Gala is coming up, and Kira is making me go. You know how I hate doing publicity shit.” Not a lie. It’s true, he has to go to the pretentious fucking Hero Gala, and he hates all that stupid shit, and, yeah maybe there’s something else going on at the Gala, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he doesn’t wanna go.

Eiji’s mouth hangs open. “That’s it?”

“Hah?” Katsuki glares.

“You’re freaking out about the Gala?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, I— geez, Kats, I actually thought there was something eating at your soul. You looked like you made a deal with a crossroads demon or something.” He shakes his head of whatever thoughts he’s been having and lets out a laugh, takes a sip of his tea.

Eijirou has no idea just how on the money he actually is.

“Nah, I just don’t know what to wear, how to act. You know how I can get with camera flashes.” He sighs, remembering the last press release he went to— all of the cameras and loud noises, and… fuck, it’s uncomfortable, and reminds him of being out in battle. Maybe he actually needs to get onto someone about PTSD like shitty Deku keeps suggesting.

Eijirou lets out a breath, the weight falling off his shoulders. “Well, you’ve always looked good in red; brings out your eyes.”

Katsuki chuckles then. “You’re a biased little shit, Ei.”

“I know.”

—

The Gala is everything Katsuki expects it to be: loud, crowded, and brightly lit. Paparazzi and fans line the streets for blocks leading to the venue, and it makes his nose twitch. He’s not the best with his public image, but tonight he has to at least try. Has to put in some goddamn effort.

Not only for himself, but for TDA, for his… to be girlfriend.

God, it even sounds fucking stupid in his head.

He drove himself, the plan to pull up in the valet cue and open the envelope, prepare then. In hindsight it’s pretty last minute, but knowing a name threatened over overthinking on his part. He’s never really been known for his level head, and in that respect, he’s his worst enemy.

He’d argued with Kira a couple of days ago about a pre-meeting meeting, something to ease his anxiety, somewhere for him to meet this woman and form some kind of fool-proof game plan; but he was shot down.

What if a pap sees them entering the same building before they even meet?

That’ll ruin the meet-cute for the fans, destroy everything the commission worked hard to create. Which is fair, honestly; she’d asked him if he read the plan, reminded him that until they can’t even have phone contact until the third meet just in case anyone catches wind of anything.

Stupid Commission and their goddamn paranoia.

So as Katsuki sits in the cue, venue a beacon of light a couple a blocks away, he opens the centre console of Maserati Gran Turismo and pulls out the envelope, unrolls it and flattens it against his thighs. This is it, no time to mull over the results, because as he idles, the cue slowly rolls forward, bringing him closer to the Gala by the minute.

As calloused fingers carefully pull at the tab, his mind races. He thinks about just how long he’s waited for this moment, how on edge he’s been since he scribbled his signature at the bottom of that contract. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, he needs to do a good job with this, needs to put in the effort, needs to milk it for all its worth.

For some reason, he thinks back to Shouto sitting in his office chair, clearly worried about his own standings in the ranks, looking sorry as hell. He wonders how Shouto’d feel if Anderson were sitting across from him at the table, offering him help he doesn’t quite need, giving him an opportunity he might not be fit to take.

But, shit, that worrying? It’s so unnecessary. Icyhot might not have even wanted to sign the fucking contract. Sometimes Katsuki doesn’t give him the credit he deserves.

He tugs the paper from the envelope and scans the page.

Your name sits there in bold block letters.

But he has no idea who the fuck you are.

Kira’s got his phone and wallet in her bag so he can comfortably walk the carpet, so he can’t even Google who the hell you are. He says your name over and over in his brain, trying to light up electrodes, trying to think of anything that could bring a face to your name.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading the name again, skimming through the document. There’s nothing there about you, no occupation, no bio, no nothing. “Fuck.” He growls, glancing up to see the venue way closer than he anticipated.

It’s fine. It’s fine because no other person would even think about bumping into Dynamight, not even on accident. This woman is going to knock into him, he’s going to steady her, not glare at her, and then it’ll be over. He can do this.

It’s going to be fine.

By the time he realises he’s shaking his leg, he’s the fourth car in the cue. He remembers the wise words of wisdom Ei shot him as he left his house that morning: you’re gonna look good, bro; just don’t blow anyone up.

He checks his hair in the rear view mirror, makes sure the lapel of his deep, deep red suit jacket is laying nicely against the matte black if his dress shirt, that his black silken tie is sitting centre. He didn’t wanna wear red, but Kira agreed with Ei, insisted it brought out the ruby of his eyes, and would make it easier for the girl to spot him.

For you to spot him.

Fuck, he’s next.

When the limo in front of him drives away, he rolls up until he’s gestured to stop, puts the car in park and presses the handbrake on. At least the anxiety of meeting you and following this script is taking his mind off how much he hates red carpets.

Oh, great, he’s gonna blend into the fucking flooring.

“Dynamight, big fan,” the valet— tall, lanky, cat-like— opens his door, gestures widely for him to exit the car.

“Hey, thanks,” Katsuki nods, points to the button to the left of the steering wheel. “Handbrake’s on; don’t drop the clutch too fast or you’ll stall her.” He explains as he slides out of the seat, stands tall to meet the valet’s eyes. He’s still a couple of inches taller.

“I will be very gentle with her, I promise.” He grins, holding a ticket out for Katsuki as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, lifts his chin as if assessing the slightly shorter man.

Then— deeming his valet adequate— Katsuki takes the ticket, slides it into his pocket, and nods him a good night.

When Katsuki turns towards the golden— not red, thank god— carpet, it’s as if someone’s just unmuted the television; it’s suddenly way too loud, his name being screamed from all angles, camera flashes blinding him, people crowding him. He’s ushered to the first little black X taped to the carpet by a busy little woman in a black suit, is briefly told to pause and pose for pics, before she hurries off in a blur.

He straightens a little, softens the agitation on his face a bit, but doesn’t smile. Why the hell would he? The paps are all desperately calling a mixture of his last name and his hero name, shouting at him like he’s some kind of prized pony, and he hates it. He hates the showboating, loathes the OTT smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Kira, her dress a tight purple bodice with a midi length circle skirt; she’s got a headset on, just like the other PA’s and Gala staff, and a black satchel bag slung across her torso. She beams when their eyes meet, but gestures for him to keep posing, uses her pointer fingers to elongate the smile on her own face, then loudly mouths smile.

The audacity of her has a smirk sliding onto his face, and he glances at the paps for a bit, before heading towards her.

“You look good!” She beams, dusting absolutely nothing from his shoulders and looking up at him like a proud mama. “Are you ready?” She leans up to ask him, voice more muted than before.

“Yeah, I just—“ he glances around, leans down to her ear. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Huh? Really?” Kira’s eyes almost bug our of her head. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, I—“

“Bakugo Katsuki willingly participating in a photo op? I think my depression is cured.” Katsuki would know that low drawl anywhere, his gut instinct affirmed when he’s met with lazy lavender eyes, and a just as lazy smirk.

“Shinsou?” Katsuki’s eyes widen. Last he heard about mindfreak, he was working the underground, so seeing him here is kind of throwing him off.

“Nice threads; when did hell freeze over?” Shinsou’s purple hair is in a messy bun, showing off a faded undercut, his suit pirate-esque with a too-open white shirt, brown suspenders and matching brown slacks.

“Funny. Who are you here with?” Katsuki snips, looking around for a possible date.

“What, am I not famous enough to work the golden carpet?” He snips in return. “You caught me, I’m here with Denks.” Then he nods behind him, at Kaminari who’s looking in his element in fucking sequins.

It brings a grin to Katsuki’s face, and he holds out his hand for Shinsou to shake. “Good to see you either way.”

“Bakugo,” Kira tugs his jacket sleeve, eyes wide as she nods for him to keep moving. “We gotta get inside.”

“Oh, sorry dude; I know how this makes you antsy.” Shinsou watches him exchange a look with Kira, takes his hand and gives it a shake.

“See you in there?” Katsuki nods.

“Bet.” Shinsou grins, dropping his hand, sauntering off towards Denki.

“You don’t know who she is? So what, you’re just gonna look clunky and hyperaware of every woman coming within a foot of you on a busy red carpet?” Kira is hissing at him as she directs him towards where semi-retired Mt Lady is having an interview with a reporter. “Did you not open the envelope?”

“I did, I just don’t know who the fuck she is, sue me.” Katsuki snips at her, just as annoyed with himself as she is.

“Oh, if this gets out, you’ll be getting sued Bakugo, don’t you worry.” She shakes her head, and points to the X’s plastered in a zig-zag all the way up to the entrance of the building. “Make your way up, hit each black X. Don’t worry about the white or the red, just hit the black ones.”

“There’s like eleven of them.”

“I’ll meet you inside,” she smiles without her eyes. “Don’t overthink it, and be fucking nice.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Go.”

He heads towards the first X when Denki moves on, a pretty reporter in white standing there with a crew and a smartphone wave him over.

“Dynamight!” She tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, bounces excitedly in place on the tallest pair of stilettos Katsuki has ever seen.

For all intents and purposes, this could be her. His heart absolutely hammers in his chest and he’s not entirely sure if he’s nervous because he hates the media, or if he’s about to meet the woman he’s gotta ‘fall in love’ with.

“Good to see you, number six! How’s things?” She asks into the bottom of her phone, before holding it out to him.

“Evening,” he greets. “It’s… loud here.” He makes a point to soften his scowl, looks at all of the fans and other people on the other side of the barricade. Be fucking nice, she said. Be fucking nice.

They absolutely roar.

“I don’t think your fans are used to seeing you like this. Who dressed you tonight?” She eyes him up and down, looks like she wants to touch him, but thinks better of it.

“I dressed myself, actually.” He says with a bit of bravado, that shit eating grin splitting his face as he tucks his thumbs under the lapels of his jacket and runs them down.

She laughs, a full-bodied thing that catches Katsuki off guard, has him looking awkwardly between her and the cameraman. “No, I mean who designed what you’re wearing?”

He doesn’t know. And he can’t be rude to this girl just in case she’s her; there’s a split second of internal struggle within him before she interrupts his chain of thought.

“You don’t know, do you Dynamight?”

“Am I gonna get in trouble from my agent if I don’t?” He looks behind himself, through the crowd for the purple dress, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“No! No way! Just tweet it later!” She laughs, patting him lightly on his upper arm.

He laughs, almost bitterly. “Right, twitter, sure.” He suppresses an eye roll, lifts his hand to wave at the crowd, the camera, then her. “Enjoy your night.”

“We love you, Dynamight!” She cheers, setting the fans off again, the noise absolutely deafening him; and he’s used to loud, used to explosive. But not like this. At least when he’s detonating, he’s full of adrenaline, not fucking nerves.

The second, third, and fourth X interviews are all more of the same; more questions about his look, about how he’s unusually chatty, about how he actually showed up. It’s hard to be fucking nice, but it does take his mind off the reason he decided to show up tonight.

Until someone’s knocking into him, and he’s instinctively wrapping an arm around their waist to stop them from falling flat on their ass. There’s a collective gasp in the immediate vicinity, but all Katsuki can see is you. You in your shimmery peach gown, eyes bright and wide, face flushed and lips parted in awe.

And he recognises you immediately; sees you almost every morning when he’s got an office shift, sometimes even nights. Ochako’s a stickler for the news, watches the same channel every day like clockwork to keep an eye on the stock market when Deku can’t; and he’s always liked the addition of you, keeps an ear out for your sing-song voice under the guise of needing to know what kind of sky he’s gonna be flinging his body into if he has to fight that day.

“Weather girl?” He breathes, finally putting a face to the name.

You just kinda gawk at him, a special kind of shock that he can only describe as wonder.

“D-Dynamight? Can you help me up?” You blink, not quite knowing what to do with your hands while he has you suspended mid-fall.

As if breaking his trance, he curses a quick, “oh, shit,” before helping you back to your feet.

“Thanks,” you smile a little awkwardly. “And sorry. For, you know, knocking into you.”

“No, uh, harm done.” He mutters back, all of the bravado he’s built up over the course of the carpet walk going down the drain as he watches you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You okay?”

You process his question without breaking eye contact with him, then you nod once, real slow. “Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “Yeah, I think I am. Nice to meet you.”

He can’t help but mirror your smile. “Likewise.”

—

There’s a photo and an accompanying video going ‘viral’ when Katsuki wakes up in the morning. He knows this because not one, not two, not three, but seven different people send him links to varying posts, with people going a little nutso over his little meeting with you.

Kira’s happy too; she was all smiles for the rest of the night, texting on her phone, disappearing to relay things with Anderson before giving Katsuki his personal items back out of her satchel, and knocking off for the night. He didn’t plan to stay, but he did; had a few bourbons and hung out with Shinsou and Denki and their little gang until daybreak.

Shinsou’s sent him a few messages— he’s a double texter— and Katsuki touches base with him before delving into the world of social media, just to see how successful Meeting One was.

He’s fucking trending.

As much as he’s loathe to search his hashtag, he clicks into it; he scrolls through candid and posed photos of him in his red and black ensemble, people’s text posts commenting on how they would let him “eat them alive” among other—more intense—things, and pictures of you.

He looks at those the longest, studies the lines and curves of your face, compares how you look when you’re at ease versus when you smile brightly. You’re pretty in a… normal way. He’s kinda blown away that they didn’t pick some overly glamorous pop idol, that they found someone that’s practically his type.

Fuck, it makes him a gross type of nervous, though. The way that he’s not going to hate this makes it worse and better, and he’s conflicted because this might not be as bad as he anticipated, and he’s not sure if he likes that or not.

His social media deep dive takes him to your page, and he lays in his bed for what feels like hours scrolling through your content. You’re the weather girl for the nation’s most watched breakfast program, Good Morning Japan, and you’re clearly the show’s sweetheart. There’s photos of you with fluffy animals, on boats, at the beach, with celebrities. Katsuki feels like a dunce for not knowing your name when he read it on the paper.

One of the top posts in your hashtag is a photo of you in a bikini and a sarong, feet ankle deep in the shallow waters of Furuzamami Beach.

Fuck, you’re hot.

He throws his phone towards the end of the bed and begins his morning routine; Deku’s given him the office shift this week, and he intends to make the most out of it.

—

“Hey,” Katsuki pants, breathless.

“Katsuki, bro, the weather girl from channel 5?” Eijirou’s voice is smug as all as it rings through his AirPods. “She’s cute!”

“Eijirou, I will hang up on you.” He threatens, taking the museum stairs two at a time. He’s on his afternoon run through the city, pushing himself a little further than usual because of… reasons. The best part about being on office shift, is he finishes his shift as soon as paperwork is caught up on. And Katsuki is efficient as fuck.

“Akari keeps asking me when you’re over next, by the way. She said that you promised to take her to the parlour again.”

“Oh.” Yeah he did do that. Had her pretend she was feeling sick so he could slip from the grasp of some fans.

“Yeah, you’re bribing my daughter with ice cream again, aren’t you?”

“When’s your next overnighter?”

“Oh, I’m on days for the month,” he sighs, content on the other end of the line. “Tamaki’s taking my nights so I can spend more time with Aki; I’ve also got tomorrow off for the Maru’s anniversary visit.”

“That’s… nice of him.” Ah, yeah, it's the anniversary tomorrow; Eijirou’s taking it a little easier with each passing year, but the death of his wife is a painful cross to bear.

“Yeah I know, he’s a good guy. Anyways, just wanted to know if you wanted company tonight? I’m making breakfast for dinner.”

“Oh, your favourite.”

“Yeah, can’t go past it, am I right?”

“I’ll come around for a bit, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I can’t sleep over.” By big day, he means he’s meeting you again, and he needs the night to himself to overthink the whole thing.

“You got a whole room there, though.”

“Ei, as much as I love you and Aki, I love my bed more.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” There's some shuffling on his end, paperwork probably, then he perks back up. “How long have you been feeding me decaf tea?”

“What?”

“I have decaf tea in my cupboard at home.”

“Ei, I give you decaf every time.”

“Oh.”

“See you tonight; do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nah, I’m all organised.”

There’s a pause where Katsuki contemplates bringing up the anniversary, but thinks better of it. “Be over around six.”

—

He’s not all organised.

If Katsuki could pretend to be surprised, he would, but, “You forgot the eggs? For breakfast for dinner? No eggs?”

“Dude, don’t do this, Akari’s already given me shit for it.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki suppresses a grin. “I’ll run down and get some. Aki, want anything from the corner store?”

“Chocolate milk!” She yells from her room upstairs.

“Hey, get beers, too.” Eijirou says offhandedly.

This makes Katsuki pause. “Ei.”

“Kats.” He says in response, not meeting his gaze.

“Ugh, fine.” He grunts, sliding his shoes back on and toying with the black facemask in his pocket. “You can thank Maru for my leniency.” He says, glare hot on his friend. Eijirou just grins back as he fixes his stupid ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron behind his back, and Katsuki pulls on his beanie and mask, setting out for the walk.

He knows he wants to settle down a little further from the city. Ideally, even further than this. Sure, it’s a quiet neighbourhood, safe, where the houses have yards, and there’s grass, and trees, but… Katsuki needs more space. Privacy.

His relationship with the spotlight is rocky at best, and there’s this nagging in the back of Katsuki’s brain that warns him off all of this social media shit, the trending, the paparazzi, the overzealous fans.

The bell jingles as he enters the corner shop; it’s later than rush hour, but earlier than the typical teenaged late night snack visit, so the place is quiet.

He grabs the eggs from the shelf and heads down the aisle to the fridges, set on pulling the door open and grabbing a six pack of Sapporos.

“Oh!” A woman gasps, about to grab the handle as he reaches for it. “Sorry!” Her apology slips from her lips, and he feels his face flush a little under his mask.

It’s his fault, he’s been in his own head all afternoon. “No, I—”

It’s you.

You seem to make the realisation just as he does, your eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips. And you both stare, his own eyes glued yours as if he were stuck in some kind of trance, as if you had him under some kind of spell.

You blink first, and he forces himself to look away for a second, so he can catch his bearings.

“I’m sorry Bakugo, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re wearing a facemask as well, but your smile pushes your cheeks up to crinkle your eyes.

“Nah, neither was I,” he admits. “You live around here?”

“Me? No, I’m cat-sitting for a friend.” You laugh. “Gosh, this is surreal, isn’t it? Imagine running into you here of all places.”

“Yeah, both of us buying beers,” he does his best to joke— which sounds fucking stupid, by the way— but you laugh a little more, glance around the shop before leaning closer to him.

“Feels like we shouldn’t be talking yet, doesn’t it?” Your eyes almost sparkle under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and he can’t help but stare. “I just wanna say thanks, though— for catching me at the Gala. I wasn’t going to trip so hard, but you were standing there like some grumpy Adonis, and I—” you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I got nervous and actually tripped.”

“Lucky I got good reflexes, huh?” He quips back, suddenly feeling super nervous— which is weird as hell.

“The best— Oh, I better let you get back to your night.” You take a step back, open the door and grab a bottle of wine, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor when you crouch down to grab a 6-pack of beers. “These ones?”

He nods, points to the pink knee-length rain boots you’re wearing. “They’re cute,” he can’t help but snicker. “All part of the weather girl uniform, I guess?”

You hand him the beers with a laugh as you stand. “I happen to think they suit me,” you say in defence, pointing and tapping a toe dramatically.

“You’d be right,” he says a little too gently, clearing his throat when you look up at him with surprise through your lashes. “I, uh,” he starts, those damn nerves not going away. “See you around.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” You nod. “I’m gonna check out the ice cream, bye!” Then in a flash of tan coat and pink boots, you’re heading back towards the frozen section, and he’s shaking his head, eggs in one hand and beers in the other.

He tries not to stare too much, tries not to dwell on the lightness of his heart, or how god damn likeable you are. Instead he hastily grabs a chocolate milk, heads to the checkout, pays for the goods, and leaves.

—

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow that he can feel Eijirou trying to push down all evening. It doesn’t quite seep into Akari— she was only a baby when her mum passed— but Eiji’s frayed edges scratch at Katsuki, and deep into the night they’re both tipsy, sitting on the back porch nursing beers after Akari heads to bed.

They don’t need to talk— far past silence being uncomfortable— but when Eijirou’s shoulders start to shake, Katsuki wraps an arm around him, pulls his head to his chest, and lets him sob.

He stays on the couch, still not ready to christen those All Might bedsheets.

—

The second “official” meeting is supposed to happen while he’s on duty. He read through the file this time, so he’s prepared; maybe even a little… over prepared.

It’s morning, and you’re supposed to be at a certain famous bakery, sampling the goods in an advertising bid between the cafe and your work; weather on location, or something ridiculous. Then, he’s supposed to enter, and he’s supposed to look at you like ‘oh, you’re from the Gala’, and you’re supposed to look at him the same way.

The Commission didn’t account for Katsuki running into an actual villain.

He wipes his bloodied nose on the back of his glove, watches as Iida drives the crook away in the back of a paddy wagon, then pulls his other glove off with his teeth to look at his watch.

9:15am. The meeting was scheduled for 8:10am.

“All good, Dynamight?” One of the EMT’s waves him over and he inwardly groans.

“It’s just my nose, I’m fine.” He insists, swatting the little green man away.

“Just let me do a couple of observations, dude, it’ll take two minutes.” His pink eyes narrow up at Katsuki, and the grumpy blonde gives in, following him over to a bench and sitting down, letting him work his paramedic magic on him.

His phone vibrates in the pocket of his tac pants, and his watch tells him it’s Kira. He taps a few buttons on his watch, connects it effortlessly to the earpiece in his left ear. “Hey,”

“Bakugo, what happened? Anderson is pissed.” She hisses through the earpiece.

“I am currently with…” He glances down at the short man crouching around his med-pack, reads his name badge. “Midori— Really? Your name is the colour of your skin?”

“Bakugo.” Kira presses.

“That’s my Japanese name, my real name’s Timothy.” Midori sasses back, pink glare venomous.

“Timothy, huh?” Katsuki tests the name on his tongue, gauges Midori’s reaction to the pronunciation; the other man seems to soften a little.

“Bakugo.”

“Just use Timothy—“

“Bakugo, focus!” Kira borderline barks in his ear.

“Right, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” Katsuki sighs, looking up at the puffy white- grey clouds overhead.

“We have to reschedule for tomorrow,” Kira sighs, probably doing that thing where she pushes her glasses up and pinches the bridge of her nose. “She’s heading to the coast, though, so you’re gonna have to—“

Kira wants him to what?

His semi-sunny disposition sours. “I can’t do that.”

“Bakugo.”

“Kira,” he starts, feeling his blood pressure rise along with the octave of his voice. He glances down at Mido—Timothy, tries to control his volume. “I’m on patrol shifts this week, I can’t do that.”

He can’t let Izuku or Shouto or Ochako down. That, and he can’t think of a good excuse to be heading to the coast.

“No, you’re right. It’d be better if she could meet you halfway or something.” Kira sighs, conceding a little.

He drops his chin, focuses that glare of his at the pavement next to Timothy. “Not half way—”

“Oh, ouch, are you okay?” Pink rain boots step into his vision, and when he looks up, you’re smiling down at him. He just… stares stupidly up at you, feels something warm and wet drip over his lip as your eyes widen. “You’re bleeding, Bakugo.”

“Shit,” he turns away from you, swipes at the wetness of his upper lip, knowing he’s probably just spreading it.

“Here,” you gently bully his hand away from his face, dab at him with something damp and smelling of coconut. It takes a moment for him to register that you’re sitting next to him, wiping at him like a nurse while the god damn EMT is kneeling at his feet, and Kira is screaming for his attention in his ear.

Without even thinking, he ends that call, silences his earphones on his smartwatch.

“You’ve got your work boots on,” he starts, wary. “You on the clock?”

“Oh, I had a thing a few blocks away, and heard my new favourite hero apprehended some bad guy in the same district.” Your focus isn’t on him, you’re in your handbag, fussing around with wet wipes and a little plastic bag and a handkerchief.

“So, you came for a walk?” He asks, staring. Staring because seeing you on social media is vastly different to seeing you in person, and so close. He could count your lashes, could reach out and test the softness of your skin, your glossy lips—

“Yep.” You grin, looking up and meeting his eyes.

It’s a spark— the same one from the corner store— and it pulls deep in his chest, your beauty and charm and the peace you bring almost overwhelming, yet entirely endearing—

“Hey— sorry, I know this is a wrong place, wrong time type thing,” Timothy stands up, fishes his phone out of his pocket, your spell broken as you both look up at him. “But I’m a huge fan,”

“Of me?” You chirp, surprised. And it takes Katsuki a moment, because usually it’s him being approached with nervous apprehension.

“Yeah, who else?”

You send a sideways glance to Katsuki, “uh, the actual top ten hero in our midst?”

“The top ten hero doesn’t look good in a swimsuit.” Katsuki says under his breath, and you giggle while Timothy pales.

“I’m sure you do,” you whisper back to him, before standing up. “Alright, sure, a selfie?” You ask, all of your attention on Timothy, who smiles at you, his pink irises akin to sparkling hearts; and much to his horror, Katsuki feels like he wants to steal you away from him.

“S-sounds good to me,” Timothy stammers, just as enamoured as Katsuki feels.

“‘Kay,” you agree, smile big and bright and Katsuki has to look away or he might get giddy by proxy. Timothy’s cheeks flush when you stand close—too close, probably— and you direct him into taking a few pics, before making him show you each of them, your nose scrunching as you scrutinise each one.

“Why does my nose look like that?” You frown at the EMT, a little wounded kitty.

“You look great though! You don’t mind if I post it to social media?” He asks, and Katsuki resists an eye roll.

“Of course not! Make sure to tag me so I can follow you back.”

Katsuki stands, hands on his hips. “Perfect, are you done? We’re busy.” He means to say that he’s busy, and he also means to glare at both of you, but it just doesn’t pan out that way. So, he runs with it, throws caution to the wind, and offers his hand to you.

All to quickly, he’s got anxiety nibbling at his heels— the fear of rejection, of ‘am i doing too much too quickly?’ of ‘should I be going off script just because you are?’. It sets in, and almost sends him spiralling. Almost, is the key, though, because before that little beast can sink its teeth into him, you’re taking his hand, practically skipping to his side, and beaming that too-brilliant smile up at him.

“I know a cafe,” you say, waving that pesky EMT off and almost pulling him away from the little crowd Katsuki’s pretending not to notice.

“I bet you do,” he can’t help but look at you— and it feels so schoolboy, and too soon, and off script— and he can’t help but get swept away in the ease at which you flow.

“We can share a parfait,” you lean into him with a little smile, whisper it like a secret. Your arm links around his then, and you lean against his bicep, look up at him through your lashes like a Disney branded cherub.

“Bet you’ll eat the cherry,” he snickers, trying to gain the upper hand, trying to gauge whether or not you’re getting swept up in him, too, because this… this thing isn’t natural, isn’t created from a want, but a need, a contract—

“Silly,” you pull away a bit and pout, “we’ll get two cherries.” And, fuck, you’re pretty. Pretty in all of the ways he loves, like the Commission have his tastes on file. You’re kind where he’s mean, and fun where he’s serious, edges soft where his are hard.

The seed of doubt’s been planted, though, because he can feel himself closing up, shutting down. Even though he’d love to stay in this flirtatious little moment with you, soak up all that attention you’re showering him with, he needs to be realistic— is wired to do so.

You’re acting.

He’s acting.

At least, he’s supposed to be

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mybigbangacademia #atmospheric fic #panzer.writing #leese writes

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mothdruid · 2 years ago

Text

Honeymooning

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: the two of you are honeymooning in hawaii. the first night of your honeymoon was exciting, the two of you exploring each other into the early hours of the morning. bradley wakes up first, taking in your sleepy beauty. while watching you he get's horny from memories of the previous night. his moans end up waking you up, making you two resume your actions from the previous night.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, married couple, blow jobs, fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, pet names, use of "i love you"

a/n: hi, smitten honeymoon bradley has plagued my mind for a few weeks now. i love smitten bradley so much and i really hope i was able to convey that. also, excuse me for using the same gif of bradley again. i'm too lazy to make a pic/edit for it and i also love this gif

The weather in Hawaii was hot, but the breeze from the ocean made it bearable. Fingers drifted down your skin as you laid there, the hues of the morning light cascading over your bare skin. Bradley smiled as he thought about all the entirety of last night. All the positions he bent your body into, the sounds that came from those perfect lips of yours. The way those perfect lips had parted so beautifully for his cock. His cock twitched at the thought, hoping he would get to see that beautiful sight at some point today. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow, eyes scanning over your body.

The thin white bedsheet was barely covering your breasts. It left barely anything to the imagination, not like Bradley hadn’t seen your breasts before. They were one of his favorite parts about you. They way they felt when he kneaded and pressed against them. But when he fucked you? That was his favorite. Watching your breasts jiggle while he fucked you was heaven. Damn, watching all parts of you jiggle while he was fucking into you was other worldly.

The fingers drifting down your arm trailed to the sheet, slowly tugging it down your body. Your freshly uncovered nipples perked up slightly at the cooler air. Bradley watched your body react, his own body reacting to yours. He tilted his hips towards the bed, rolling them into the mattress. You really did drive him crazy. He let a small moan escape his lips while he rolled his hips again. As much as he wanted to be deep in you, he didn’t want to wake you up. You needed all the sleep you could get with how much the two of you had been fucking. But hey, that’s what honeymoons are meant for.

His small moan made its way to your brain. Your lashes fluttered, catching Bradley’s attention. Bradley turned and wrapped his arm around your midsection, pulling you close into him. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt Bradley’s arm wrap around you. The warmth of his skin radiated into you as he pulled you close to him. He turned to be flush against you, his hard cock pressed into your hip now.

“Thought you’d sleep for a bit longer.” Bradley’s sleep laced voice was gruff.

“What do you mean?” You turned to look at him, taking in all of his sleep ridden features.

“I mean after last night.” Bradley's hand traveled up your torso, settling on one of your breasts. He kneaded at your breast softly, his mustache tickled your skin as he trailed his lips up your shoulder to your neck. “You got pretty worked over.”

A heat filled your cheeks at your husband's words. It had been true that he thoroughly worked you over last night. Bending you in half on multiple occasions, putting you in positions you had never tried. And that mustache. You were pretty sure you dreamed about the way the mustache felt on your skin. The way it had pressed against your clit while he ate you out. Shivers ran through your body as you remembered everything he had done to you last night.

“But you were the one doing all the work.” You replied, trying to shift the focus off of how fucked out you got last night.

“Yeah, but I didn’t cum almost seven times.” He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with a boyish grin. The hand on your breast drifted up to your neck, settling on your jawline as he leaned in and kissed you. Instinctively, your fingers wrapped around his wrist while he deepened the kiss. He pressed his forehead to yours when he broke the kiss, thumb caressing your cheek. “We could keep going? Make you cum a few more times before we start the day.”

“I don’t know if my body would be able to handle anymore.” It was a lie. After the sleep that you had? You could probably go for a few more rounds.

“You sure about that?” Bradley’s hand left your jaw, trailing down your body. A fingertip ghosted over one of your nipples, a soft gasp coming from you quickly after. Your head rested back into the pillows as he hand continued down your midsection. His fingers trailed over your hip bones then your pubic area. You closed your eyes, basking in his delicate touches to your body. If you knew this was what your honeymoon would be like you would have married Bradley a long time ago.

“Fine.” You let out, hand snaking onto the back of his neck. You could feel his smirk in the kiss, mustache tickling at your upper lip. Fingers finally dipped between your legs, his index and middle finger easily finding your clit. The moan you let out was intoxicating to Bradley, something he yearned to hear at all hours of the day.

His lips moved down your body, latching onto a nipple. Your arm draped around his shoulders, nails digging into his back. His mustache pricked and tickled at your breast while he sucked on your nipple. The two fingers on your clit moved in soft circles, moans falling for you softly. Your free hand moved to Bradley’s hair, threading your fingers through the chestnut locks. Cool air hit your spit covered nipple, Bradley’s mouth returning to yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” A whimper left you, your legs falling further open at his words. Bradley looked down to watch his fingers rub on your clit. He flicked his gaze back up to you as his middle finger sinked inside of you, his ring finger following soon after. A haze clouded Bradley’s mind when he felt your cunt clench around his fingers. The moans that poured from you made his cock unbearably hard. The two fingers you pulled out and went straight for your clit. Bradley added a third finger, circling them borderline roughly.

Without a word your world shattered, pleasure rocking through your body. Your hips started rolling aggressively into Bradley’s hand, riding it while you clenched around nothing. A similar haze covered you as it did Bradley, skewing your brain. His fingers kept rubbing on your clit while you started to writhe, the sensitivity from last night finally catching up to you. “That’s it, that’s it.” Bradley cooed as the last shocks of your orgasm rocked through your body.

“You look so fucking pretty when you cum.” Bradley whispered before kissing you, a heated but gentle kiss. Bradley rolled his hips, his bare hard cock pressing into your hip. Bradley groaned into the kiss as he kept pressing his cock into your hips. You turned onto your side, hand drifting down between the two of you.Bradley wiggled his arm underneath your head, letting you rest your head on his bicep close to his chest. His cock was hot in your hand, stroking it slowly and listening to Bradley’s moans.

“Can I blow you?” Bradley flicked his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He thrusted his cock into the grip of your hand before he answered.

“If you want to, just remember that I want to cum in you.” You smirked at his comment, sitting up to look at him. Bradley propped himself up on his elbows, irises blown wide with lust raking over your nude body. Bradley smirked softly, one of his hands coming down to stroke himself while he stared at you. Slowly you slank down to his waist, placing small wet kisses on your way down.

Bradley paused his strokes when your lips got close to his cock. You opened your mouth and held out your tongue, which Bradley picked up on. The head of his cock tapped on your tongue, a strand of saliva barely connecting. You replaced Bradley’s hand with your own, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. Bradley kept himself propped up but let his head fall back, just feeling your warm wet muscle work him over.

“Holy, fuck.” Bradley groaned as he looked back down at you. You went down on his cock, taking him deeper and deeper. A groan radiated through Bradley’s chest after you hollowed your cheeks. Heavy breaths were audible from him as he watched you bob on his cock. One of his hands came down and pet your hair, your eyes flicked up to him. His eyes locked with yours for a moment before moving to watch your lips one more time. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

You pulled off of him, making a small popping noise. You let out a chuckle as you climbed up his body pressing your lips to his. Bradley smirked into the kiss as he sat up. Bradley started kissing at your jaw, moving down your neck. He started to lay you down, turning you on your side. Bradley placed his arm under your neck, wrapping it down around your chest. He laid down behind you, his cock pressing against your ass. Bradley rutted into your ass a little bit, mustache tickling at the skin of your shoulder. You pushed your ass back against him, angling it perfectly for his cock.

The both of you moaned when he pressed into you, filling you up in one thrust. The hand on your hip tightened as Bradley started thrusting into you. It was slow at first but slowly picked up as time passed. The room was consumed by the mixing of moans as he rocked into you. He pressed his forehead against the back of your neck, the arm wrapped around your front grabbing onto one of your breasts.

“I love you so much.” Bradley whispered before letting out a groan. The tight walls of your cunt clenched around him in the most sinful ways. A pleasure he would be able to experience forever now.

“I love you too.” You moaned out as Bradley, the hand on your waist slipping down between your thighs. You lifted your leg up with his help, his tight grip holding it in place now. Bradley started fucking into you a bit harder, hitting that sensitive spot inside of you. One of your hands wrapped around to the back of Bradley’s while the other tightened in the thin bed sheets.

A stream of moans with the occasional ‘Bradley’ poured from your lips. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm forming, threatening to burst at any moment. Suddenly, Bradley dropped your leg and slowed his thrusts. He pushed his body weight forward a little bit before speaking, “Stomach, babe.”

You shifted your weight and moved onto your stomach as Bradley positioned himself behind you. He straddled your ass for a moment, draping his body over yours. That familiar stretch from his cock returned, bottoming out immediately. Your hands scrambled, trying to find purchase on the bed sheets. Bradley brought his hands to yours, interlacing his fingers in between your own. “Mine forever.” Bradley started thrusting hard and deep, immediately hitting that sensitive spot. Your grasp tightened on Bradley’s hands as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Bradley!” Your cunt clenched around his cock hard, your orgasm rocking through your body. Bradley thrusted a few more times before he spilled inside of you. His hips rolled slowly as he rode out his orgasm, your tailing off rather quickly. The two of you rolled onto your sides, him still inside of you. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, catching your breath.

“I knew you had a few more in you.” Bradley commented as he kissed at the back of your shoulder blade. His arms tightened around you, keeping his chest pressed flush against your back.

“I think I could stay like this all day.” You draped your arms over his own, holding him closely.

“Yeah, me too.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x reader #rooster smut #top gun x reader #top gun smut #rooster top gun

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