#katsuki has had a long line of failures and i hope this is NOT ONE OF THEM

[marimeeko]

Can I just.... for one minute, take this journey with me:

Ok imagine. IMAGINE the breakdown, if Katsuki Comes back, escapes his post-resuscitation care via Mirio and BJ, finds Izuku, helps Izuku defeat Shigaraki in whatever way he is able to...but Izuku takes a lot of damage in the process...

IMAGINE THE BREAKDOWN that Katsuki would have, Izuku collapses close to death, (maybe, hopefully spills some guts about his feelings to him) and loses consciousness, and it's not really clear if he's ok or going to make it, and for all intents and purposes, Katsuki thinks that this could very well be Izukus death....

Imagine him LOSING IT because how fucking CRUEL for he himself to die only to be brought back, and for Izuku to ACTUALLY DIE. HOW UNFAIR. He doesn't deserve that kindness from the Universe and from Edgeshot if Izuku is lost for real.

"Why are you still asleep when I'm wide awake" from the hospital scene, but SO MUCH MORE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE.

Screaming, crying, throwing up.

Imagine him just screaming, begging someone to help him like he was helped, to SAVE IZUKU Instead, yelling as if to be yelling at death itself, to take him back in Izukus place. That he would go back into that void, if it meant Izuku would be ok.

This would be so tragic but so damn POTENT MY GOD

...hopefully Katsuki passes out just as help is arriving and he knows nothing else until he wakes up in the hospital again but with someone's scarred hand warm in his own and squeezing so gently....

[oshiawaseni]

What pulled me into my love of MHA is the relationship between Bakugo and Deku... and seeing out they are now after reading recent manga chapters makes me so excited about all that is coming up... I don't know what about BKDK speaks to me... but I can practically feel the love between them, and complex, deep, and layered love is my biggest weakness. (I envy them.) <3

I cry over bkdk because their love for each other now is just so perfect, but circumstances kind of outside their control have torn them apart over and over. And it’s so hard to see characters who love each other as much as they do never get to tell that to each other, and knowing that both of them have gone through Katsuki’s death without having said everything they wanted to say. In that same kind of desperate way Katsuki went feral over Izuku falling into a coma and not being able to tell him everything that was now filling his head up completely. That he is sorry for all he has ever done to hurt Izuku and that he cares so damn much about him.

"You better not die on me Izuku, because I need you, and there's still so many things I have to tell you."

This was also probably why they added that extra scene of Katsuki thinking of Izuku after waking up. It helped convey his new and open concern for him. His "tsundereisms" until now had only been assumed, because the “dere” side of his "tsun" had been almost impossible to see. Hori had kept this side of him very well hidden - possibly with an intention to get his desired bkdk romance across the shounen jump finish line.

So all of Katsuki’s hospital scenes confirmed suspicions that this soft side has potentially always existed, only now he was no longer holding back his “dere” for Izuku. He wasn't keeping it caged inside his heart anymore. And this is why I started getting my hopes up for for bkdk canon.

Anyway, they wanted to be the one that’s always there for the other but they kept failing in that, lzuku’s many failings to save Katsuki up until now or the way Katsuki had failed to see Izuku’s love for him, which lead to the breakdown of their relationship for so long. The failure of both of them to connect to one another emotionally, communicate how they feel and really fight for each other and overcome the issues before so many misunderstandings had the chance to take such stranglehold over their lives.

Narratively, all of their problems and lack of understanding each other's emotional selves, despite being so close, has been built up to culminate in a singular point that we are still yet to see.

The purpose of showing how well they know each other and can predict each other’s future strategies and their connection in the battle sense… Hori wrote them like this to juxtapose it against their never ending misunderstandings of the heart. It highlights how connected their emotions should also be, hinting that that their feelings were headed straight for each other until the day they crashed into each other violently and beautifully. All the events as of late have mostly been about Katsuki coming to terms with the contents of his heart and now the time has come for Izuku to do the same.

A lot of what has been shown is Izuku’s tainted vision of their relationship, or Katsuki’s lonely perspective of never being able to say what he really wants to say the most. And sometimes it’s been about both of them not feeling heard. There has been a veil between their true feelings for so long and it’s high time it is lifted and they meet together as two hearts that can truly see each other without anymore of the pretence. That’s what some of us think will happen in the upcoming chapters, and why Hori keeps having the other couples make references and parallels to them in a lead up to “?” and also why this was drawn:

I take issue with people who don't acknowledge these overarching narratives that are guiding their characters together - and that they are very much "Not Done" with Katsuki's apology. Their many misunderstandings and hidden feelings for each other must be revealed to reach the conclusion of this story. Because bnha is THEIR story. The only reason I can come up with as for why people deny this future intimacy they'll share... is that if people were to admit these two aren't done with Katsuki's apology, they're also admitting the fact that BkDk are going to become even MORE closer, and they can see the writing on the wall if that ever were to happen...

[burnedbyshoto]

(i won’t say) i’m in love

― Bakugou’s feelings for you are true, but he can’t seem to utter those three words no matter how much he wishes to. ―

pt 2

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol mention, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings

word count: 6,625

a/n: this was supposed to come out yesterday but I sort of got lazy and didn’t want to edit. anyways, I hope you enjoy, stories like this one are always fun to write and if you’re the anon who requested that bakugou thing like... a week ago, this was inspired by you.

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The first time that Bakugou really noticed you was during the final year at Yuuei. 

Three years of vigorous and intensive academic and heroic work at the esteemed high school had led him to this very moment. While Bakugou was not the intensive hothead he once was when he was sixteen, he was definitely still hotheaded at the prime age of eighteen. With the end of the school year approaching, heavily enforced by the fact that a crowd of third-year middle schoolers had just left campus with hopeful and tired expressions on their face, he was grumbling while making his way back to his classroom.

For the practical part of their final, they were paired off to handle some insane over the top final as always. If Bakugou knew any better, he would be paired off with someone lame like Mineta or some shit. How he missed the days the teachers thought him and that damn nerd couldn’t get along enough to pass tests together… they had been paired up so often that first year - on top of finally establishing proper respect and an unadmitted friendship - it had led them to become an unbeatable force.  

While Bakugou climbed the stairs after his loudly chattering classmates, he was sunk in his thoughts about who he would be with. Bakugou was versatile, and while he was often a pain to work with, he worked well with just about anyone. ‘Who hasn’t he worked with yet?’ he thought, his fingers fisted in his pockets while they gathered onto the floor where their classroom was located. 

“MINA AGAIN?!” was the first noise to break through the aimless chatter to hold truth and knowledge. 

Bakugou looked at Kaminari and Mina, who were both holding each other and crying. 

Every single final, they had been paired up together, each time facing off the principal to be utterly demolished. Bakugou snickered at the thought of them failing the practical final for the nth time again.

“Looks like I’m with Todoroki!” Kirishima pointed out, his hand waving at the half and half bastard who was also seeking him out. 

They had three weeks until final exams took place, and the fact that they were announcing the teams this early definitely sat the slightest bit uneasy with Bakugou. And with his attention back onto the role list, Bakugou found himself praying that Deku’s name was next to his. If there’s anyone left who wouldn’t hold him back, it would be him.

“Bakugou!” a voice yelled, and Bakugou looked away from the list to see you walking over with a wave of your hand. “We’re paired up!”

Just like that, Bakugou realized that during his three years here, he had never once been paired up with you, and his lips turned into a frown. Interesting.

“You’re not busy right now?” he didn’t even wait for you to confirm his thoughts, “Let’s go, the TDL should be free right now.” Bakugou practically commanded, uncaring that you were definitely not in clothes to be doing anything physically demanding. 

“I needa change! I’ll meet you there in ten minutes!” was your unaffected response and Bakugou’s eyes narrowed when Kirishima jabbed him in the ribs, his eyes telling him to play nice.

“Tch. Fine, just don’t take forever.”

By the time you had returned to the TDL, Bakugou was still warming up, his hoodie pulled up to help his cold ears while he stretched.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up or teamed up before!” you called out while stretching your arms above your head. “You think they kept us apart for so long for that very reason?”

“Like hell I would know,” Bakugou grumbled, refusing to look at you while you finished up your warm-up routine, by the looks of it you had run from the dorm here; that was a good enough warm-up. “I don’t know what kind of crap they’re going to try and pull on us at this exam, but I want you to let you know that you better not fuck this up,” he stood up, his hands rotating in circles, relieving the built tension in his wrists while he stared at you for the first time. His calm gaze meeting your strong one. “I plan on walking out of here with a perfect score.”

A smile spread on your face while you nodded, “I plan on it, too.”

Pleased with your response, Bakugou’s lips quirked into a smirk, his stance lowering immediately, and he watched while you readied yourself. 

“Ready?”

“Come at me.”

~

Bakugou sat on the floor, his eyes wide with his shock and personal embarrassment. 

The practical final exam had been a fear-induced, villain crawling, pro hero gone bad filled nightmare. A test designed with the help of Support Course students and a teacher who generated physical and real items based on whatever she thought had caused a most horrendous scene for Bakugou and you. It was then that Bakugou realized why both of you had been paired up - your fears were one and the same.

Failure, rejection, not being enough. 

While both of you had been so good in the beginning, powering through every obstacle at alarming power and speed, there had been a hitch in the road right before the finish line. When a ‘villain’ took on the form of All Might and blamed him for this downfall that society knew. He had thought he was long past breaking over that, he believed that it was something he had healed over two years ago. This faux All Might carried himself just like the retired hero, changing between his big form and the small one, his words and accusations dropping like boulders on him with every broken whisper that passed his lips. Unlike you, Bakugou wasn’t able to fight this terror, wasn’t able to beat the thing that still tripped him up.

The loud ringing in his ear wouldn’t quit while he fell down, his breathing short and scattered. He couldn’t hear your screams while you were battling your own opponents while All Might drew closer to him.

His fault, this was all his fault.

But a bright light exploded across the room, and Bakugou eyes felt heavy while you threw him onto your back and took off. His last exam ever, and just like his first one, it finished with him being carried across the finish line, but where the first one still felt like a victory, this felt like a complete failure. 

“Bakugou!” you exclaimed, your hands finding his pale, clammy cheeks in your hands while the victory tune carried lightly in the background. “Bakugou, can you hear me?!”

Of course, he could hear you, he wanted to snap as his body instinctively wished to push off his insecurity with anger. But his tongue was too heavy in his mouth, his eyes merely focusing onto your terrified face. You had taken a blast in the face earlier, and the bruising swollen lip you had was an indicator of the failure you came across. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay!” you reassured, your smile spreading wider, brighter on your face, your calloused fingers rubbing softly against his face. “You’re okay! It was fake, remember!”

“It wasn’t fake, though,” Bakugou heaved, his fingers trembling with his grief and suffocating anger while he shoved your hands from his face. “It wasn’t fake. I’m the reason fucking All Might is gone, why the world fell into chaos! You were there that day, weren’t you? The day I was taken from the fucking forest.”

Your eyes widened from the statement, but Bakugou couldn’t blame you for that. No one but Deku, Aizawa, and All Might knew about these feelings. Still, the emotions that sat heavily on his throat seemed to pierce themself further into his throat while you very obviously thought about the circumstances of that fateful night three years ago.

“How was it your fault you were taken?” you asked, your head tilted, arms folded across your chest. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened, not at all expecting you to care or even try to calm him down. There was no point for you to either; it wasn’t as if you two were close after all. 

“I was a fucking dick back then,” Bakugou grumbled, his head turning to the side his gaze refusing to look at you. No one had ever questioned his thoughts on this statement, everyone had always left it at that.

“You’re still a fucking dick,” you half teased half spoke truthfully, and your body sank to the floor, sitting before him with a tilted curious head. “A lot of people are dicks, but that doesn’t mean dicks are targeted by villains. I mean look at Endeavor, he was sort of a flaming dick back in the day, but he’s a hero.”

“But it’s different, I was barbaric to the point where they tied me up during the sports festival,” Bakugou reasoned, his gaze turning back to you, and was slightly shocked (not that he would show it) to see annoyance in your eyes.

“Yeah, and that was total bullshit of them to do!” you exclaimed, pushing a hand onto his grenade gauntlet. “There was no reason for them to do that for you, you didn’t think you won, and they should have just let you be. Giving you a medal like that was completely idiotic of them. Should you have behaved like that? No, you shouldn’t; it was childish and dumb of you, but they’re also the adults… they should have known better before strapping you up like a rabid dog in front of the world.”

“Wha-?”

“I get that we’re not… close friends Bakugou, but if you think that the League capturing you in an attempt to make you cross sides was your fault, which would lead to Kamino… I mean, it did lead to All Might losing his ability to use his quirk and all, but this has nothing to do with you,” you affirmed, your eyes deadly serious but with a type of kindness that Bakugou wasn’t used to. “You were trying to make a name for yourself in this competitive field, and you did! I mean… don’t let this inflate your ego anymore than it already is-”

“Hah?!”

“-But you’re someone to fear. You’re strong and capable, and from everyone who was shown in that sports festival, you were definitely the one to watch. But it was the adults who fucked up that day, they’re the ones who ultimately set the scene in painting you like a deranged loose canon - which you are at times, but you’re not evil. The League thought you were that way, and I’m sure there is no doubt in All Mights eyes about what he did for you. You were someone who needed to be saved, and All Might is the world’s number one hero for a reason: self-sacrifice. It could have been you, me, or even the grouchy pork bun lady down the street - he would have given it all to save. Don’t even get me started on the fact that Japan became too comfortable with All Might and held him to the status of a god and not a human that he is… so… yeah, I’m not good with this kind of stuff, but I want you to know that this isn’t your fault. You’re in the story as to why he lost his ability to use his quirk, but All Might’s will carries on in all of us, especially in you, so unless you give up, he’ll never truly be defeated.”

It was at this moment that Bakugou finally saw you.

The way that you had been exceedingly kind and ever so gentle with him. Your words rang heavily in his ears, and a heavyweight felt freed from his shoulders the more he digested your words. He wasn’t sure when your hand began to hold his, but while he looked down at his gloved hand, he let out a shaky breath at the sight of your hand in his. 

“You’re pretty amazing, Bakugou, please don’t forget that,” you smiled, nothing but sincere truth on your tongue, and finally standing up, you looked down at him. “Well, it’s time to see how we fared, yeah?”

But there was something different in the way that his hands sweated. He knew that his hands were always perspiring. There was a normalcy to the nitroglycerine sweat that his hands emitted without a single thought, but the tightness to his stomach and the way that the sweat poured nervously from his palms made him realize that no, this was different. But what exactly? His stomach flipped at the still and happy appearance on your face, and a shadow of realization flooded through him… oh no… he knew why, but he knew he shouldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t.

With a sigh, he pushed off the floor, standing beside you, a smirk daring to pull at his lips at the way that your eyes traveled up in your surprise to his height and closeness.

“Let’s go.”

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“Watch where you’re fucking running, dunce face!”

“I was watching!”

Bakugou’s head snapped over to your giggling face while you lay on your own towel a few paces away from him. Today was Mina’s birthday, and instead of going to a restaurant for a birthday celebration like any average person, she had decided she needed to tan. How someone who was pink could tan was beyond Bakugou, but while he had no intention of hanging out with his old classmates on his day off, Kirishima had asked him to go for him. That wasn’t enough, so when Kirishima had included that you were apart of the group that was going, Bakugou considered it for about ten minutes before finally agreeing - but he would never say it was because of you. 

So here he was practically babysitting a bunch of nineteen-year-olds while he lounged under the sun’s hot rays. He needed to get rid of the funky tan lines on his body.

“What are you laughing about?” Bakugou grunted, his eyes narrowing at your figure, which was relaxed against the soft towel you were using as a blanket of sorts. “I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sure you could,” was your smooth response, your head adjusting on your arms to look at him easier. “I just think you should rub your sunscreen in better, Sero did a horrible job at applying it on your back. Unless, of course, you want a penis tanned on you.”

“Why the hell would I want a fucking penis on my back?!” Bakugou growled, his hand grabbing his SPF 100 sunscreen and slapping a handful onto his back. 

He heard you push off the sand ground and felt you stop behind him, and Bakugou froze when your warm fingers pressed against your back. “You’re a bit helpless at this sort of stuff. I figured you’d be the type to carry around a stick of sorts so you could apply it to yourself with no issue.”

“I don’t come to sunbathe ever,” Bakugou countered, his ears lightly burning at the feeling of your hands rubbing the sunscreen against his paler back. “I’m typically covered from head to toe.”

“Oh, I am more than aware of that,” you sagely nodded, pulling away when you were done to fall back onto your towel with a grin when he finally turned to look at you. “Still, you’re a big enough nerd to do it.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped at the accusation, his eyes narrowing and his defenses on high alert, “The hell?! I’m not some damn nerd!”

“You graduated third in the class, unlike the cool kids who graduate ninth in the class,” you teased, your class ranking lower than his but still nothing to be ashamed about with who was in their class.

“That doesn’t make me a nerd, just makes me smarter than you damn idiots!”

“You’re the only person who flosses every day, always eats healthy foods, probably rivals Midoriya in hero trivia, listens to everything authorities say, never broke a rule or got detention, and sleeps at eight p.m.”

“How is any of that nerd shit? Just sounds like I’ll live longer and be better! Besides, how you know all that shit, you sound like some creepy stalker.”

A glint of amusement sparked in your eyes before you slipped on sunglasses, leaning down onto your towel with a proud grin on your face. “I have a strange fascination with nerds, sorry to disappoint you.”

Blinking in disbelief, Bakugou shook his head, settling back onto his own towel with a snort, “You’re a bigger asshole then I thought you were.”

“I hide it very well behind this pretty smile,” you flash a disgustingly pretty smile his way, and Bakugou rolls his eyes again.

“So… uh, how have things been for you at your agency?”

Bakugou would then find himself having a rather informative conversation with you. The both of you trading stories of how it was to work as a legit hero now, to no longer have to think of UA’s reputation or the fear that taking action in stressful situations would cause their learning licenses to be removed. He was also quick to discover that he really enjoyed talking with you, his often limited conversation energy never feeling drained as he continued talking.

Stories were shared, snarky comments exchanged, which left both him and you in laughter until the party of two became more.

He could barely keep a hold on his fake annoyment when both of you were being hauled into the cold ocean water, your loud shrieks as Mina tackled you into a crashing wave, making him grin as he quickly tore off Kaminari and Sero from his arms. That is until you reappeared from under the water to take him entirely off guard and tackle both of you into the water, your screams loud in his ear.

When he emerged from the salty water looking akin to a wet dog, everyone froze up in their poorly concealed concern and fear: this was war.

It had been a fun day at the beach, even if Bakugou had a hard time admitting to it, but as the sun set, the hot summer day fading into a warm summer night, and they all sat around a bonfire Bakugou felt as if the sun was still beating down on his tan skin. There was no reason for the explosive warmth invading his skin except that you were huddled at his side, your attention on the others. At the same time, you playfully fought with them, your eyes occasionally falling on him in hopes of a verbal back up. 

He agreed with you every time, growing more and more pleased with the fact that your eyes glimmered with great joy and how the others booed and disagreed until finally, they had to go.

“I miss hanging out with you,” you admitted when you all piled into the car, exhaustion sitting heavy on all of you after a good but long day.

Bakugou’s heart skips a beat, and he licks his lips, nodding slowly, not wanting to let you see how he was coloring in his embarrassing agreement.

“Yeah, whatever,” he looked at your still smiling form, letting him know you didn’t buy his statement even for a second. “...I do, too.” And the smile that consumed your face nearly killed every willpower he still had left.

It was then that Bakugou had to admit that he never thought he would have to consider.

He liked you.

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“Bakugou is that you?!”

Bakugou had been going home. Dressed up in a formal suit, he thought he would be unrecognizable and left alone with his head hanging low and earbuds in, but he guessed no matter what, the laws of having earbuds in went ignored.

Today had been hard. Today had been the day of the funeral to one of his colleagues who had perished in a black market raid he and the agency he worked at had embarked on. It had been a perfect raid, something that hailed his name in the spotlight for quite some time, but it was for naught because a friend of his had died. Those who had been close to his fallen friend were forced to take the rest of the day off and get okayed by the agency’s psychiatrist before resuming duty. It wasn’t something Bakugou wanted to follow; after all, crime didn’t take a day off, but he had no choice (he had been threatened with more days off, and stupid Deku had pulled him away before a real scene could emerge).

But he felt weird in this get up, the suit just felt strange on his body, too nice, too formal for the lifestyle he held. Why it was inappropriate to show up to a funeral in your hero attire was beyond him. As it was midday, Bakugou had hoped that he wouldn’t have to see anyone on the train back to his province, but to his dismay, even with the classical music blasting in his ears, he heard someone yelling. 

He turned his head slightly and paused when he saw you running towards him with a bunch of paper in your arms, your face sweaty from what he assumed was exhaustion.

“You’re looking handsome!” you chirped, sighing heavily when you stumbled to his side, your cheeks pinched into a genuine smile. “Why you all dressed up for?”

“A funeral,” was Bakugou’s dry response, and your smile quickly fell off your face, a flustered and mortified look replaced the smile, and if it had been any other situation, Bakugou would have barked in laughter.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” you awkwardly state, your condolences heavy on your face and quickly emitting from your tongue while you bowed in your embarrassment. “I didn’t remember that Slingshots’ funeral was today.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened at the name, his head nodding with a stiff shoulder, “Not a big deal, he’s been gone for a few days now.”

Your eyebrows knit together, your eyes looking at him concernedly before you shook your head, “Doesn’t really matter, it’s still the death of a friend of yours.”

Bakugou shrugged again, his hands moving out to grab half the stack of papers in your hands and holding them for you. He always remembered his dumb nerd friends telling him that it was a kind act to do for people you liked, Kirishima always raved about how it worked for him at least.

“Well, um… Kirishima told me that you moved into the building across from mine! How crazy is that?!” Bakugou knew immediately that you were changing the subject for him, something he truly and deeply appreciated because he was not ready to talk about his feelings about Slingshot - well, at least not in public. Damn paparazzi always seemed to catch his most embarrassing moments.

“Kirishima’s telling you that shit about me?”

“Oh yeah, Kirishima loves to gossip all about your life,” you state matter of factly, your head tilting with a wink. “I know all your dirty little secrets Bakugou Katsuki! We have a class group chat where Kirishima and Midoriya spill all their knowledge on you.”

Bakugou wasn’t precisely sure how false that statement was; all things considered, he knew those damn idiots would do something like that should the old class actually want information on him. Sighing, he nodded towards the train that pulled up to the station, and the two of you climbed on, taking the first two available seats together.

“What’s my biggest secret, then?” Bakugou decided to play along, his head resting on the train window, his eyes falling onto your softly smiling form with shielded amusement.

A shit-eating grin grew magnificently against your face, and Bakugou almost regretted asking because you leaned in close, your lips whispering to his ear despite the empty train cart, and uttered something that sent horrified dread through his veins. 

“You’re one of three owners of the super exclusive and rare All Might Bronze Age trading card.”

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW THAT?!”

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE!!!”

Embarrassment blazed on Bakugous face while you continued to laugh, your hands holding your papers flat against your body while you shrieked for air. He rolled his eyes despite it all and just stared at your snorting form since you failed to recompose yourself at what was your lying attempt to disillusion him and worked. 

It had been seven months since Mina’s birthday, and since that fateful day, his feelings for you had only grown more extensive and more real. He could never admit it to anyone, but he texted you nearly every day - the days where there was no communication would often come from your end of the conversation or because one of you had an extremely exhaustive day at work. 

He watched how the soft winter sun shone through the clouds, piercing through the window to brighten the color of your eyes, making them look even warmer and more delicate in his opinion. How he was never interested in you during high school was beyond him. You were - on a personality level - identical to when you were in high school, he had confirmed that suspicion of his with Mina, who had been appalled on your behalf that he hadn’t noticed you before. It was times like now that he regretted it, he wondered if he would have felt the same way as he did right now back then. 

He hadn’t exactly changed much at all either, so he figured he would have liked you back then too.

You were witty, sweet, kind, but no pushover. You had helped to ease his worries and anxieties in a single night, where professionals failed to do so in years. It made no sense to him why it was this way, but as you asked to listen along to the music he played, he slipped off one earbud and handed it to you with sweaty fingers. 

You graciously accepted it with a broad and exciting grin while placing it into your ear, your amused groan making his heart flutter with warmth while you complained about his old folk music selection.

“I still don’t peg you as a Beethoven guy!” you exclaimed, your head swaying in time with Symphony No. 9. “I thought you were a Led Zepplin sorta man.”

“That shits bad for your brain, you have to keep your entire body healthy or you might as well die off like some shitty extra.”

“You really think you’re some main character in this world, don’t you?” you ask, your smile teasing and your eyes so warm and smooth Bakugou felt his heart stop with just your stare. He licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry, and his hands that usually never stopped sweating felt dry when he placed them on his lap. 

“I’m the main fucking character,” he corrected with a smug smirk. “Don’t you dare fucking forget it.”

He would never say it, but his favorite sound and sight in the world became this moment right now, the hardworking city fading in the background and even his music fading into nothing while your hands pressed to your mouth, and a charming giggle escaped your mouth. 

“I won’t.”

He won’t admit it, but when you hugged him later that day as a means of goodbye, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep himself from tilting you backward and kissing the lights out of you.

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Bakugou was in trouble.

It wasn’t anything that warranted immediate concern or any type of life-ending trouble (although his heart was hammering so fast he thought it could be life-ending), but he was in trouble. 

His hands were clenched together, and his head was down while he listened to Jirou and Mina screaming some sort of punk-pop duet that was in English together. It had been over a year since the train incident, a year for Bakugou to shift through his feelings for you and what they meant and if they were meant to be pursued. It was weird for him to have waited this long to begin with. He was a man of acting quickly and thinking later, a fatal flaw of his if he would, but you were so different to him - a situation where he couldn’t behave like some hot head or else he would regret it.

Today was Kirishima’s twentieth birthday, and he had wanted a simple stay in party with everyone, a shit ton of alcohol, and a karaoke machine. It was to no surprise that it was a party that the entire class 1-A ended up showing up, each and every one of them ready to have fun with the drinks and karaoke machine. But as he watched you up there doing the stupidest poses (alongside seven others) known to mankind while singing some diva song, something hit him.

His once amused smile melted off instantly when you smiled widely, your head tilting backward into a peal of laughter when Aoyama knocked you straight into Hagakure and Mina. 

He was in love with you.

He was in fucking love with you.

That was a problem! That was not okay!

He had gotten up from the crowded bedroom (something you had insisted they perform in to really push that karaoke room feeling). He walked into the living room, a harsh comment about how he needed some fresh fucking air being thrown behind him while he slammed the door shut. No one questioned him, and the party continued. 

A part of him was relieved that neither Kirishima nor Deku followed after him, he didn’t really wish to be a damper to the party even though he sure he was one right now. But what he didn’t expect was for your body to slip out of the bedroom door, beads of sweat rolling down your face while you met his gaze.

You smiled broadly, walking over with a wave before flopping onto the couch.

“It was too hot in there, I was sweating like a goddamn pig,” you exasperate, your hands fanning your face for added coolness. 

How Bakugou wished he was that half and half bastard so he could help you cool down.

“I think you’re sweating more than a fucking pig,” Bakugou pipped in, giving his unneeded opinion.

You chuckled, your lightly sweating forearm smacking his side while you chuckled, “Yeah, true. I’m sweating like you right now.”

“You’re an asshole,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes shifting to look at you.

Despite his harsh words, he was looking down at you with no malice in his gaze. Breathing heavily out of your nose, you pushed off the couch and sat on it properly, looking at your best friend with a grin.

“And why are you out here exactly? Kiri wants to sing a song with you, Midoriya, and Todoroki like really badly.”

“Well shitty hair can come ask me to sing a song with him and those idiots if he wants, I’m not going back in that disgusting room until I have to.” Bakugou waves off, his thighs shifting against the soft couch and his arm falling on the sofa behind your head.

“Don’t be a party pooper!” you groaned, your hands shoving his side softly, but your smile remained on your face. “What’s eating you up? Come on, you can tell me anything, ya know!”

Bakugou freezes a bit, those words relaying in his mind like a broken record. 

What would happen if he told you if he was in love with you?

Would you hate him if he did?

He was sure you wouldn’t say it back - that was for sure.

“I won’t say,” he breathes out shakily, the words ‘I’m in love with you’ pounding on every cell of his body.

He loved you. He loved you more than he thought he could ever love anyone.

He wanted to tell you, and the look of utter disappointment in your face only made his stomach twist with guilt and failure that he didn’t tell you. 

“I promise I won’t tease you… I won’t do anything to upset you! You know you can trust me, right?” you plead, your hand taking his sweaty one, and Bakugou flushed at the warm contact. 

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

There’s a look of guilt that twists on your face, and you sigh, your head dropping and Bakugou freezes when you begin to shake your head. “Sorry, that’s… that’s rude of me. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t make you, but if you want to, I promise that I won’t judge.”

Your concerned eyes rose back up to meet his, and Bakugou felt his spine go stiff.

A shaky breath of air expelled past his chapped lips, and Bakugou’s fingers trembled, “I have something to confess…”

Your eyes widened in shock and silent glee that he was going to let you in on his secret, but he wondered if you would look the same after he confessed.

“I’m-”

“Y/n!” a shout interrupted, and Bakugou froze while both of your heads snapped over to see Kirishima pushing out of the door with a bright grin on his face.

“Ei!” you smiled broadly in return, your voice almost breathless at his arrival, your eyes filled with emotions that Bakugou could only dream were directed towards him. Immediately his stomach twisted sickeningly at the sight of his red-headed best friend take three long strides to get to the couch before planting the biggest kiss he had ever seen onto your lips.

Bakugou’s stomach filled with bitter acid at the sight of you and Kirishima passionately kissing despite having him no more than two centimeters away from you. Giggles and the purest sounds of two people in deep, deep love emitted from the both of you, and it took everything in Bakugou not to split his skull in half in raging jealousy.

“I was missing you so much! I looked away, and you were gone!” Kirishima pouted, his tone a low whine, but his mouth continued to press flustering kisses against your mouth until you were gently pushing him away. Embarrassment obvious in your posture because shamelessly making out in front of any audience always left you uncomfortable. 

“I was… checking up on… on Bakugou,” you pathetically moaned against Kirishima’s mouth, your hands helpless against his chest while you attempted to push away your tipsy and loving boyfriend. Kirishima let out an understanding ‘oh’ before pushing away from your lips and collapsing onto the couch next to you. 

Bakugou was silent and frozen as he looked at his feet, his nostrils flaring in his anger and embarrassment because what was he ever thinking?! Confessing to you when you had a boyfriend?!

“How’s Bakubro doing?” Kirishima cheered, his hand slapping against Bakugou’s taut shoulder with a wide grin. “Is he being a good friend?”

“You know he always is,” you laugh, your lips pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “He was about to tell me something, though!”

Bakugou froze when he felt your gaze and Kirishima’s fall on him, and acid shot to his mouth.

You had been dating Kirishima since the start of the third year at UA. It was a relationship he was always and has always been aware of because Kirishima never was secretive about his puppy love crush on you! Still, he knew this and fell for you. You were his best friend’s lover, and he fell in love with you. He could never say he was in love with you, not if he knew what was best for you and Kirishima. 

But even if he wasn’t the sixteen-year-old boy with anger issues from hell, there was a part of him that would always be that, and in a time where he needed to be calm and lie through his teeth, seething anger exploded in his chest.

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Both you and Kirishima froze, “W-What?”

Bakugou was a good hero because his quirk was powerful. Explosions were powerful, and they were deadly if misused. He wasn’t someone who could use his quirk as a means to save - sure he saved people every day, but he would never aim a blast towards a victim. That would be idiotic. Bakugou knew he wasn’t his quirk. He was explosive and bitter and mean at times, but he believed he was more than that. He was better than that. And for the past three years, he had been working on that part of himself, only for it to fall and collapse in an explosive fury right now.

He was dangerous.

“This entire time, I only gave you a shot because I knew you were seeing Kirishima. You’re fucking annoying though, an airheaded, a coward, and so fucking nosey, I wonder just how Kirishima is still with you! He can do so much fucking better than you, and it’s embarrassing that you can’t even see it!”

“You don’t mean that,” came your soft and utterly broken voice, your face pleading for him to say it was a lie, pleading that this was some joke. 

Tears burned at the back of his eyes but refused to form, and Bakugou wished he could say he was done after that, but the thing about destruction is that there was always more than just one wave. 

“I tried to be your friend, I did, but it was the worst mistake I made. You’re a shit friend, a shit hero, and a shit significant other. You’re not someone I admire or think of as an equal, and I think it’s best if you just left me the fuck alone.”

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh humorlessly, your eyes stone hard and staring daggers into Bakugou’s skull, but to his own horror, a steely laugh escapes his lips he shrugs.

“I’ve been called worse.”

You stood up, storming away from the loud room and slamming the door so loudly behind you it rattled the walls.

“What the hell was that, Bakugou?!” Kirishima gasped, his eyes wide in a fury and hurt, the once tipsy glaze to his eyes gone and only full of sober anger and disbelief. “That was the unmanliest shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth?! The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Fuck off, go take care of the fucking crybaby,” Bakugou heaved, the tears burning even more as he folded his arms, his gaze focused on his feet once again.

“Did you know that y/n used to fucking like you?! All three years in high school y/n had the biggest fucking crush on you, and even when we got together… I knew those feelings still existed…” curling acid shot up his throat at the critical information. You had liked him? “For three years y/n tried to be your friend, and it didn’t work until the very end and you just… why did you do that?! You’re a fucking dick, Bakugou.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not when Kirishima pushed off the couch, his footsteps shockingly sober as he moved to chase after you. But the moment that Kirishima was out of sight and the karaoke room began to play the Disney classic, I won’t say I’m in love, something twisted in his soul and tears pushed through his eyes.

He loved you so fucking much, but as he always seemed to, he had destroyed every good thing in his life because of his attitude.

You were Kirishima’s, and it only really hit him now… how could you ever forgive him?

[the-final-sif]

Okay, so I think I’ve got a solid timeline of events for villain!Katsuki

Katsuki leaves UA just before the provisional license exam, he’s at the point where he no longer things the hero system can be fixed without outside intervention. He’s done with how the media acts, he’s done with the blame being shifted to victims based on their quirks, and he’s done with the lies he’s been fed all his life.

Prior to this he started researching and planning what actual change would look like and require.

He meets up with Dabi, who’d only let the rest of the league know about the bet a few days prior. He was curious if Katsuki would keep his word or not. Dabi prods Katsuki gently, saying he knew the kid took honestly seriously but he’s still kinda surprised to see him go this far over a bet. Katsuki replies explaining it’s more than the bet. He talks about what he’s seen, and the failure of hero society to change. It’s more than enough to convince Dabi.

Dabi brings him to a secure location, then relays information to Shigaraki. Shigaraki is hesitant, he’s surprised Katsuki came back to them, but when Katsuki explains his side of things, and with Dabi vouching for him, Shigaraki decides to let him in. He can understand what it’s like to fall for hero society. He did for awhile too. Katsuki just needed more time on his own to realize that.

There’s an introduction period, the league is still figuring themselves out and most of them are hesitant to trust Katsuki. It’s about a week before he’s properly reintroduced to everyone and gets the sense that they’re not headed in any particular direction.

After that week, Katsuki decides “fuck that, I’m going to do shit, y'all are coming along” and since Shigaraki doesn’t really have anything better in mind, he decides to go along with Katsuki’s plans.

UA started panicking as soon as they realized Katsuki was gone, but nobody really knows what happened to him yet. Since he took all his stuff with him, all signs point to him having run away.

Izuku refuses to believe that, and most of the class holds out hope for awhile, but as no evidence turns up, more of them start to think it might be true and start discovering the amount of harassment and guilt he was facing.

There’s about a month and a half period in which Katsuki focuses on getting the league in shape. During this period, they do a forcible take over of the Shie Hassaikai.

Overhaul is killed, Eri goes under Katsuki’s care, and the league is established as a much more powerful force.

The Hero Commission is starting to get nervous, but not overly so. Not yet.

After this month and a half, Katsuki makes his first public appearance as a villain.

He’s in an updated version of his costume, most of it has stayed the same, but he’s added what looks like muzzle to the costume that covers his mouth. The muzzle actually functions as face shield/oxygen system so he can move at much faster speeds safely.

Katsuki’s villain debut is a full scale attack by the league on the Hero Commission directly. An event meant that the Hero Commission had gathered in a relatively accessible location, and the villains take advantage.

Importantly, Katsuki is enforcing a policy of limiting needless harm or deaths, because it ruins their message. The league reluctantly agrees, so they’re being a bit more careful than they were before. However, they’ve still got a hit list for this party.

The list consists of officials who they have confirmation deliberately manipulated polices or actions of heroes at the cost of people’s lives, all for some private gain. They do a lot of damage, and manage to kill 7 people on their list.

Katsuki’s first kill happens here. Previously, he’d managed to defeat Overhaul, but wasn’t quite able to kill him. He just wasn’t ready.

Shigaraki took care of it for him, and told him it was fine if he needed time to learn to kill. He was kind and understanding about it in a way that was genuinely weird to Katsuki. Not only because this was all about murder, but it was the first time in his life that he failed and an adult supported him rather than punishing him for his mistake.

At this event, one of the people he takes down tries to appeal to him by offering him a position as a hero to save themselves, and that pushes him over the line. He ends it quickly.

The league escape afterwards, and footage plus eyewitnesses confirm Katsuki was there, and he didn’t say a word to anyone he attacked.

UA, the Hero Commission, and the media collectively assume / sell the story of him having been brainwashed. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make them look horrible.

Aizawa has been weighed down by a lot of guilt during all of this. He should’ve done more, should’ve reached out, but he’d been waiting for Katsuki to come to him. He’s tried to find Katsuki, but Katsuki has purposefully avoided facing him in battle as Aizawa is one of the few people he doesn’t feel like he could hurt or allow one of the other villains to hurt.

The attacks start getting frequent over the course of another month, primarily targeting the people behind the scenes of the heroic’s system, with a lot of other targets of corruption along the way.

On his third attack, Katsuki has his first run in with Izuku, the first of any of his classmates to face him in battle.

Katsuki refuses to speak a word to him, despite the fact Izuku heard him giving directions to Toga, and the two clash.

Katsuki manages to pull ahead in their fight, but he’s distracted from their fight by someone caught in the crossfire. He diverts course to protect them. Izuku was so hyperfocused on Katsuki he didn’t notice the person. It throws him off enough that Katsuki is able to win their fight complete his goal.

After their clash, Izuku’s finally realized Katsuki isn’t brainwashed. Given what happened, he can only assume it really is Kacchan making all these choices, which leads him to reflect on why.

 Between slowly uncovering what Katsuki was suffering through, and watching Katsuki’s actions and their very real impact, Izuku finds himself struggling with the idea of heroes as well. Most of Class 1-A and society as a whole really are.

Shouto & Izuku talk, and Izuku confirms that it really is Katsuki. Not a brainwashed version of him.

At the end of their conversation, Shouto assumes that because it’s really Katsuki, they’re gonna go join him. He defects, and is a bit surprised when Izuku doesn’t follow him right away.

Dabi almost has a heart attack over this, but he can’t really judge.

Shouto is accepted into the league after he and Katsuki talk and he apologizes for not having done anything. Katsuki doesn’t blame him for it, as he understands Shouto had no real sense of what was okay.

Eri gains a new older brother, and she could not be more delighted.

During this period, after the first attack, Hawks was sent in to infiltrate the league. Katsuki can smell the commission on him from a mile away, but tells Dabi to kind of let Hawks in anyways.

The league begins slowly working Hawks out of the Commissions control, before finally after about three months, Hawks realizes how shitty they are and defects properly.

A big part of this happens after Hawks finally comes to terms with the fact that Katsuki isn’t brainwashed, and after Hawks meets Eri and realizes how happy and safe she is with her new family vs how he felt at that age with the Commission.

By the end of that three months, a number of other class 1-A kids and a few kids from 1-B have dropped out of the hero course, or in some cases, UA entirely. The public at large has started to become more disconnected from the hero system as they start to see some of it’s major flaws. The Commission comes under more and more questioning and is seriously losing power.

During this same time, you’d expect to see an increase in crime, but you actually see the opposite.

Katsuki has been very careful and forged an alliance with the MLA such that they’ve been able to crack down on certain types of crime (domestic violence, quirk kidnappings, sexual assaults, etc) while also steadily funneling money into getting social services in theses areas.

This means that you start to see less crime, people feeling safer and more secure, even as the hero commission and system is crumbling.

All of this comes together after a year or two of solid in the form of the government submitting to a major reform driven by figure heads planted by the MLA, but only after the league manages to eliminate the last key figures standing in their way.

Since so many heroes have either fallen from grace, stepped back from the system, or been killed in certain cases, Izuku ended up as an unwilling symbol of peace due to his connection to Katsuki.

Izuku is tasked by what’s left of the heroics system with stopping Katsuki from killing the final major figure whose all that’s standing in the way of the reform.

Izuku, in the end, makes the active choice to step aside, giving Katsuki the key he was given to the room so Katsuki can get to the person to kill them.

Izuku finally decided that he’s had enough of this too, and he’s done defending a broken system based on ingrained ideals that don’t add up.

Aizawa is watching inside the room up in the rafters, he’s stayed a hero of sorts but still functions like he did before.

Inside the room, Aizawa had the chance to cancel Katsuki’s quirk and stop him from killing the person. Instead, he chose to close his eyes and let Katsuki go through with it.

Katsuki looks up to where Aizawa is once it’s done, and Aizawa realizes he knew he was there the entire time. He hops down out into the open and speaks plainly as he always did.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can really say. There’s so much he’s sorry for. For not speaking up. For letting Katsuki be put through so much. For letting him be driven to this.

Katsuki looks at him for a long, long moment, before he finally looks away and shrugs his shoulders. For the very first time in years, he speaks to a hero. To the only hero who ever tried for him, even if it wasn’t enough.

“S'okay. The problem was bigger than you every could’ve fixed.”

“I should’ve tried. I should’ve done more.”

Again, Katsuki needs a moment to consider that.

“Yeah. Probably.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and then Katsuki’s radio crackles to life. Dabi’s calling him back.

They share one more glance, and Katsuki turns on his heel and walks out.

Aizawa watches him go. There’s nothing else for him to do. His right to change this story ended when he failed to speak up all those years ago.

[kat-katsuki]

Sunflower and White Rose | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Part 4

Fantasy AU

Warning: Swearing (cuz Bakugou)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

tags: @ waffleareniceandfluffy @ the2ndl @ jazzylove  @ bubblesmalfoy Thank you all for the support!

WC: 2.5k

"Let's go get our fucking blessings."

He picked two white roses from the sea of roses, and handed one to you. "For the future queen."

Time was running out, for the fire dance was about to begin. "But I don't have a fire dress." Your eyes sadden at the white rose in your hand.

Bakugou's eyes widened at you. He knew about your parents, how they got into an accident while hunting, fell out of the sky, and passed away. Traditional fire dresses are always made by the mother for their daughters. The idea was that the mother would pass down her wisdom, luck, and prosperity through the dress as a form of blessing, in hopes that the daughter would be able to find someone who will bond souls with her for eternity. "I have a solution. Come with me. We gotta hurry or we won't make it for the dance."

Oh no. Not again. Earlier you had to run with the best female hunter, but this was the best warrior. No way are you able to keep up.

Bakugou chuckled when he saw the horrified expression on your face. He picked you up in his arms, one hand supporting the center of your back and the other behind your knees. "Hang on to my neck," he whispered. Your face flushed with extreme heat as you shyly placed your arms around his neck as he instructed. Your fingers brushed against the beads of victory. Just what did you do to deserve this man? Perhaps you saved the world in your past life?

The dragon prince sprinted through the sea of roses. White petals flew into the air as he passed by. You carefully protected the two roses he picked, not wanting them to get destroyed by his superhuman speed.

He was faster than Ashido. Much faster, even with you in his arms. A cloud of dust trailed behind him as he dashed through the village, causing all the people he passed by to cough violently. "What was that?" someone asked as the dust cloud dissipated.

Midoriya was standing near the bon fire with Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Ashido, waiting for the fire dance to begin. His friends told him about Bakugou, and their secret plan with you. "I see... That's great! (Y/N)-chan really likes Kacchan! I'm so happy for them!" Midoriya smiled. "I'm really, really glad."

"Are you not mad? Didn't you want her to be your partner?" Kirishima asked.

"Well, it's true that I like her, and that's all the more reason why I want her to be with the one she truly loves!" Midoriya said. "Plus, I'm going to be leaving soon to start my training as a knight. After I'm gone, she won't have any other friends in this village. That's why at the very least, I wanted her to find a partner that would treasure her for who she is. I'm so glad that person is Kacchan! I know he'll be great to her!"

"Izuku...." Ashido muttered, feeling emotional over the things he said. "Are you really leaving?" The green haired boy nodded.

"Dragon riders of the north, Holy Knights of the south. Although I've lived here most of my life, it's always been my dream to become one of the Holy Knights who serve the royal palace of the Musutafu Kingdom of the south."

"Right, Musutafu, that's where you're from, right?" Sero recalled. "Man now I kinda wanna go there just to see what it's like."

"We should totally go! After the festival is over, let's all go to Musutafu on an adventure!" Ashido exclaimed.

Suddenly, the bon fire shot up into the sky, and the sound of drums interrupted the conversation between the new adults. This was signal that the fire dance was about to begin.

"It's starting! Come on guys! Let's go!" Kaminari exclaimed as he started to drag his friends towards the bon fire, where all the young and new adults were gathering for the dance.

"Gosh, where is Katsuki and (Y/N)?! It's almost starting!" Kirishima tapped his feet worriedly.

The drum beats started getting faster. The elders walked over with bowls of face paint in their hands. Kirishima and Ashido stood still as one of the elders came up to them. She dipped her thumb in the white paint and glided her finger across their faces. Face paint is a symbol of adulthood. Before the fire dance, elders will paint the youngsters' faces as a coming of age ceremony. Once the face paint was done, they are officially independent members of society.

"You think they can make it?" Ashido asked Kirishima with her brows furrowed. She interlocked fingers with the red dragon, squeezing her lover's hand as they scanned the area.

"They'll make it." Kirishima squeezed back. It's their perfect prince they were talking about. There should be no reason for him to worry.

As the drums got louder and louder, faster and faster, the young ones all knelt around the bon fire as it rose higher and higher, as if reaching for the heavens. The shaman chanted in their old tongue, praying to the fire god to bless the young warriors of the tribe. Sweat dripped down the foreheads of the young dragons as they basked in the heat of the flames.

Sounds of beads clinking against each other echoed in the opening as the shaman waved his staff in the air.

Kirishima looked up when he heard sudden outbursts of gasps coming from all around them. The loud gasps interrupted the shaman's chants, and everyone lifted their heads to see what was going on.

Ashido's jaws dropped when she saw you. But that's-

"Is that-" Some girls in the tribe pointed at you in disbelief. "Why is she with-"

"Why is that failure walking with Prince Katsuki?!"

"Somebody tell me this isn't true..."

The older women clasped their hands to their mouths in disbelief when they saw the dress you were wearing.

You and Bakugou walked hand in hand, the bells on your golden ankle cuffs jingling every time you took a step. Bakugou couldn't take his eyes off of you as he led you towards the bon fire. A beautiful golden choker wrapped itself perfectly around your neck. The cloth piece on your breasts were in a sunflower pattern, and a thin golden cloth attached below it hugged your torso perfectly, accentuating your curves. The bottom of the golden cloth attached to another piece of the same sunflower patterned belt around your hips. Under the belt were long thin sashes that started out gold but slowly mix into red at the very end. You wore golden cuffs around your wrists, arms, thighs, and ankles, each with beads and bells dangling on them.

That dress...was the queen's gown.

Everyone in the village recognized that dress. It wasn't a traditional fire dress, but the gown passed down for generations, only worn by the queen on her wedding day.

When Bakugou brought you into his parents' yurt, Mitsuki and Masaru were shocked. "Old Hag, the golden gown!" Bakugou ordered.

"But I thought (Y/N)-chan and Izuku were..." Masaru pointed at you confusedly and then darted his finger outside the yurt.

"The gown! Now!" Bakugou shouted.

Mitsuki immediately understood his son's intentions. She grabbed the wooden case lying at the corner of the yurt and quickly opened it, revealing the beautiful treasure of the tribe. Before you could as anyone what was going on, Mitsuki shoved Masaru and Bakugou out of the yurt and stripped you down of your grey dress and helped you put on the golden gown only worn by queens.

"You are beautiful my dear," Mitsuki said to you once you were finished changing.

"Is it really okay for me to wear this?" you asked your queen.

"Katsuki has chosen you, so this dress will be yours eventually anyways. What difference does it make to wear it now?" Mitsuki smiled at you. She called her son and husband back. When Bakugou lifted the front curtain, he froze. Was that (Y/N)?! He didn't think it was possible for you to get any prettier than you already are, but there you were! Standing right before him, in that beautiful golden dress. His face instantly turned fifty shades of red as he tried to find the right words to utter. "Don't just stand there Katsuki. Tell her how stunning she looks!" Mitsuki rolled her eyes at her son.

"Uh- I- You-... Wow...." Bakugou tripped over his words. Seeing him all flustered made your face burn as well. Your ears felt so hot it was as if they were melting.

"Wow indeed. Now let me get the face paint," Mitsuki went outside the yurt. Masaru patted his son on the back, giving him a light push towards you. Bakugou stumbled right in front of you. His eyes traveled up and down your figure, taking in every detail and every curve. God you were sexy.

"C-Can we get married right now?" he asked.

"Eh?!" You exclaimed.

"I got the face paint!" Mitsuki said as she came back to the yurt. "Now kneel down you two." She mixed the paint with a stick as she and Masaru stood in front of you and Bakugou.

You fell to your knees obediently before your king and queen. Bakugou, on the other hand, crossed his arms rebelliously. "I'm not kneeling."

"Kneel the fuck down and receive your blessings!" Mitsuki growled as she kicked him behind the knees, knocking him down. Your eyes widened in shock as your prince fell down next to you.

Masaru and Mitsuki exchanged glances, grins spreading on both their faces as they dipped their thumbs into the paint. Masaru held Bakugou's chin up, and drew the first line down his chin. "The first line represents bravery. May you stand tall and fierce even against the most dangerous beasts," Masaru said.

"The second line represents freedom. May nothing stand in your way, nothing bind you down," Mitsuki said as she drew the second line on your face.

"The third line represents strength. May your powers bring you nothing but victory home, bringing honor to you and your loved ones."

You looked down. The paint felt extremely heavy on your face. You didn't know if you were worthy of such blessings. Noticing the look in your eyes, Bakugou took your hand in his. You glanced at him as he smiled back. His eyes told you to keep listening.

"The fourth line represents kindness. May your heart be pure, and your words be gentle." What? Your eyes widened as you looked up at Mitsuki, who smiled down at you while drawing the line on the right side of your cheek. Was kindness always a virtue of your people?

"The fifth line represents empathy. May you open your eyes to the suffering of others. Rule over them through understanding, not through fear."

These weren't virtues of dragons, but the virtues of kings and queens.

"The sixth line represents mercy. May evil, hate, and vengeance never find its way into your heart."

Your eyes began to water again, and Bakugou's grip on your hand tightened. These weren't just blessings of adulthood...

"The seventh line," Masaru began as he placed his thumb into the paint, then pressed it against the side of Bakugou's face, next to his ear. He then glided the finger across, over his nose bridge, all the way to the other side of his face. "Represents eternity. May your love last for all your lifetimes to come."

These were marriage blessings given only to the kings and queens from the previous kings and queens.

"Now go, the fire dance is about to start."

Here you stood, next to Bakugou, with your face painted. The six vertical lines represent virtues of the rulers. The horizontal line represents love and eternity. The shaman went back to finishing his chant as you and Bakugou knelt down by the fire beside Kirishima and Ashido. Kirishima smiled at Bakugou. You made it! His eyes seem to convey.

Fuck yeah, of course I'd make it, Bakugou smirked at his best friend.

Exclamations of disbelief wouldn't settle down, but that didn't stop the music from playing. All the couples took out the flowers they had exchanged the day before, and tossed them into the fire as offering to Hino and proof of their love. You and Bakugou kissed your roses, and gently tossed them into the fire. At that moment the fire burst into the air, and everyone gasped. Bakugou pulled you back so you wouldn't get scorched by the sudden eruption of flames.

"Everybody calm down! This is a sign that Hino has received your offerings!" The shaman shouted. He then looked towards Bakugou and you. "And he has given his blessings."

You and Bakugou smiled at each other. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss, and the two of you joined in on the fire dance.

Everyone knew the fire dance. It was the most sacred ritual of your culture. You and Bakugou tapped your feet as he held one hand around your waist. The new adults circled around the bon fire, dancing to the beats of the drums, following the rhythm of the music. Bakugou held his right hand up, and you pressed your right palm to his. The two of you circled around with your hands intertwined, then he pulled you back into his arms.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too Katsuki."

The dance ended with all the couples sharing a passionate kiss. Bakugou cupped your cheeks with both hands and pressed his lips against yours. You gently placed your arms around his bare torso, scooting your bodies closer until his stomach pressed yours.

His tongue gentle laced with yours, a fiery and tingly feeling traveling from the tip of your tongue all the way to the tips of your toes.

You could hear the horrified screams echoing throughout the village, but none of that mattered anymore.

As crazy as it is, the dragon prince has chosen the failure.

Legend says that when Hino fell in love with the mortal Nue, he broke the heart of countless beautiful goddesses in heaven. They could not believe Hino would choose a plain mortal like her, who'd eventually grow old and wrinkly, over eternal beauties like them.

It was said that the goddesses got so jealous of Nue that they each placed a curse on her. One goddess cursed Nue to be a coward. One goddess cursed Nue to be weak. One goddess cursed Nue to be forever alone, an outcast that will never fit in. Once the curses were placed, Nue was so sad that she turned very ill. Hino was so angered by the goddesses that he burned down all of their temples. He told Nue not to fear the curse, because he will be with her. No matter when, no matter where, he will find her in every lifetime, and he will love her, protect her, and keep her company so she will never be alone.

Fin~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Also on AO3! A kudos or reblog would be greatly appreciated!

A/N: The pictures are all not mine! Credits to their original owners. I really liked that design as a tribal gown! I found it on google images! Finally done with this story! Phew! Literally ignored all homework to finish this... Please lemme know if you liked it! Thank you so much to those who replied and asked me to tag! Thank you to those who reblogged! Thank you to those who followed me! Thank you Thank you! I will be making another post here on tumblr only about how I got the inspiration for this story, so lemme know if you wanna be tagged for that post as well!

[gallickingun]

stardust in our bones {constellations on our skin} || i.m.

SUMMARY: Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain, his masterpieces hung in the form of scars and freckled skin. Sometimes he is overwhelmed by the very public display of his failures, unable to be dismissed even from far away. But you are always there to remind him that even if he is a little damaged, he will always be beautiful in your eyes. And maybe he can come to learn that his scars are but reminders that even if you break, you are not broken. 

This is essentially a few different scenes/scenarios all rolled into one fic about Izuku’s freckles and scars. I hope you love it!

PAIRING: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: mentions of blood, language, smut, dom/sub scenes, scars, mild violence mention, breeding kink, daddy kink, etc. WORD COUNT: 28.4k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is in the replies of this post! message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the labor of love that i have produced for my other half @freckledoriya ♡ i hope that this meets your expectations, as it is probably one of the only midoriya fics i will ever write lol. katsuki baby i am so sorry also big shoutout to @k-atsukidayo for making this beautiful header image for me and always reminding me that i’m not as garbage as i think i am ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

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Some call him disfigured or discolored.

They focus much too heavily on the outer turmoil taking its toll on his skin instead of the implications of what is happening within his body – the struggle in seeing himself this way and coming to terms with all that he has lost, marked on his body forever in the form of scars.

Marred flesh, crooked knuckles, gnarled bones.

He relives his trauma every time he looks in a mirror, another cut turned to pinkened scar, another use of his quirk marking his body permanently with a plethora of the color red. He wonders for a moment if he will ever feel whole again, or if he will always see himself as this patchwork thing that the universe toys with by ripping apart just to sew it back together again.

Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain.

And yet, despite all his physical fallacies, you still find him beautiful.

You watched on in horror as his body took on the tolls of being a hero throughout his time at Yuuei. You were but a young, quirkless teenager, begging for a hero who reminded you of what hope used to taste like. Now, after All Might’s demise, your tongue turns sour and anything that might have resembled hope burns to ash in your mouth.

Then Izuku Midoriya became a Pro Hero at the very agency you’ve been working at and you felt that familiar warmth of hope starting to take root in your chest, driving out that darkness that settled once the world lost All Might.

Deku is kind, much kinder than the average man. Or hero, for that matter.

He stops by your desk at least once a week, with either coffee or something sweet, in addition to his paperwork. He’ll chat with you, leaning over your counter with those sparkling emerald eyes, and you start to realize you can get lost in him. He is a gentle reprieve from your otherwise mundane day.

And in the beginning, you saw sun-kissed skin littered with a dark sprinkling of freckles, like little constellations burned into him by the sun. His cheeks are like the expanse of the night sky and you wonder to yourself when he leans in close if you might could find some stars you recognize.

As you grow closer, minutes turned into hours turned into lunch outings, you realize that you truly misjudged how deep his scars run.

They are not just on the surface, but rather cutting deep into his soul until he is marked at the very essence, clouded eyes ever present when he recounts a tale that brought forth yet another scar. You want to reach out and brush his cheeks, but you must restrain yourself because he is a Pro Hero and you are but an office manager, quirkless and insignificant to him.

You busy yourself with memorizing the patterns on his face and neck. You allow your mind to wander from time to time, trailing your gaze down to his exposed collarbones or torso, depending on how rough a mission might leave his suit. When it’s torn at the thighs, you can’t help but to see the smattering of pale freckles against his otherwise tanned skin.

Izuku is kind, you remind yourself as he approaches you with paperwork tucked into his side. There is no other explanation for his long, drawn out talks at your desk, or the flowers currently adorning your countertop.

“Hey, sorry,” he unfurls the bundled package of papers and lays them flat on your desk, “this week has been insane, lots’a villains on the loose. Which I guess just means more paperwork for everyone, huh?”

You chuckle at him, thumbing through the first few sheets to make sure he’s got it all in order. There really is no doubt in your mind that it’s all laid out exactly how it should, that’s just how Deku is, but you want him stationary at your desk for a little while longer, so you check it anyway.

“And more bruises for you heroes,” you smile, tilting your head upward so you can catch the glint in his eyes. “How are you today?”

Midoriya begins to rattle off a long string of muttered words while you check the paperwork. You don’t mind that you can’t necessarily understand everything he’s saying, just to hear the sound of his voice is enough to satiate you for the rest of the day. You smile and nod when you think you should, the smell of the flowers on your desk more intoxicating now that he’s here.

“-I, well, you see, I guess that since I saved their shop, they said I could have unlimited meals, and I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go?”

You bite your lip, reigning yourself in because of course he just wants to go out for lunch. There’s nothing more to it. You have been to lunch with him several times, extended breaks thanks to both his hero status and your extra hours you work here and there.

“Sure,” you answer, “we can go over the new manual, I have a few-”

“No.”

You cock your head, brow furrowing, “B-But -I”

Deku shakes his head, green curls bobbing against his forehead, his undercut even more obvious now, “N-No, I mean, I want to go, but like, I want you to go with me.”

“I would be-”

“Without the paperwork.”

“Oh.”

The two of you share a look for longer than necessary and now the flowers’ perfume grows stronger, almost sickeningly sweet as your stomach flips. You rack your brain for the words to say, but each syllable dies on your tongue, sparking against a taste bud. You want to pinch yourself to ground your mind into this version of reality where Deku wants to go on a date with you is the current situation, but you can’t move, frozen in place by his expectant stare.

It must take you too long to respond because Izuku launches into another muttering rant, apologizing profusely as he blushes from head to toe. Your lips tug into a smile at the sight of his freckles against his reddened skin, and that little break from your psychotic prison allows you to reach forward and grasp him by the hand.

Deku’s jaw snaps shut, eyes widened as he looks down at you, gaze piercing through you as if he had slung a spear through your soul. He’s got a hold on you, he has since the day you first met, but now you know that he’s had you hook, line, and sinker and there was no way you could ever come up for air.

Not that you’d want to.

“I’d love to,” you tell him, voice soft.

His smile matches your own and he squeezes your fingers, the scars on his hands rigid against his otherwise smooth skin, “It’s a date.”

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As time passed, the bruised ribs and shattered bones multiple. The Pro Hero, Deku, is well-known for his gnarled hand, knuckles swollen, and scars carved into his body like veins in a slab of marble. He finds you after each mission, wrapped in gauze and taped back together, and you are the one left to mend the untouchable pieces of him once the surgeons have done all that they can for the surface wounds.

“You should be more careful,” you warn him, hands reaching for his face to palm over his cheeks in worry.

Midoriya laughs, but it is cut short by a wince as he grabs for his rib cage. You lurch forward to steady his frame, but it is of no use, his palm already outstretched to keep you at bay. The frown on your face only deepens at his motions, your brow furrowing together to wrinkle the skin of your forehead.

“I’m fine,” he reassures you once he can stand up right to his full height again, “thank you, for coming and picking me up.”

The pads of your hands find his face again, thumbs pressed into his cheeks, fingerprints grazing over the speckled skin. It’s as if you’re counting them to make sure that none of them have been wiped away from the last time you saw him; like you could keep track of them like inventory if you tried hard enough. The furrow in your brow tells him that he hasn’t done a good enough job at reassuring you, so he steps closer, a knee between your thighs, “I promise I’m okay. They patched me up! All better now.”

All better now.

The words seem shallow, like they can’t possibly touch all of the broken pieces between the two of you. Every time he bares his soul on the battlefield, he comes away changed, a different person than you last saw. He won’t show the world, but at least he will show you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is cutting, patience wearing thin, jaw quivering under the sheer force of the bite of your teeth, “And what about the next time, when they can’t fix you?”

Deku does not have an answer for you then, the question weighing between the two of you like the world caught between your shoulders. At least the answer he can think up is not one that he wants you to hear, let alone one you might take in stride.

Instead of trying to babble on about the efficiencies of agency surgeons and statistics and whatnot, he takes you by the wrists, circling his fingers around your pounding pulse. A gentle laugh bubbles in his chest and it makes you forget about the pain he has to be in for but a mere moment as he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m a hero,” Izuku answers, voice grating against his throat as his eyes bore into you like he’s telling you some enormous secret you must keep to yourself, “and the hero always wins. No matter what.”

As much as your bleeding, apologetic heart wants to believe him, to lap up every word that he’s spewing to you like syrup, your mind can’t quite agree. You’ve spent too many late nights lying awake, wondering when you’ll get the call that he has fallen prey to a villain’s decaying touch, or when he will have been captured and tortured to the brink of insanity, a shell of the man he used to be all that’s left when they find him. Every horror story has played out on the back of your eyelids when you fall asleep, and yet you know there will never be anything you can do to put him back in the little box you first found him in, to protect him and keep him safe.

You push all of those thoughts away, knowing that they will only dampen your spirit for now, and you’d much rather focus on his darling freckled face while you take your afternoon walk. He insists, despite his injuries, that he won’t miss an afternoon walk with you. And it appears that he’s healing even as more time passes, the lingering effects of Recovery Girl’s quirk in combination with quirk-laced drugs mending his body after he’s left the operating room.

Taking in the sight before you – this beautiful, Adonis-like man, with golden cheeks and an innocent sheen in his glittering green irises – you’re overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, so you charge forward and do just that. Your hands find his neck, searching for the hairline lightning strike scars that litter his body from past injuries and fights.

Unbeknownst to him, you keep your eyes open so you can watch as his translucent lids flutter, orbs moving beneath the skin as he’s unsure of what part of you in his imagination to settle on. This way you’re able to see as the apples of his cheeks slowly start to burn deeper shades of red to match his ears and neck.

As you pull away, falling back onto your heels, you drink him in as the light glimmers down on his skin, making him look almost golden in the afternoon sunshine. There is a string connected to your heart that tugs whenever you see the man standing before you, and now is no exception.

“C’mon,” you slot your knuckles between his, tenderly brushing your thumb over the large expanse of scar tissue on the back of his palm, “let’s go.”

Izuku pulls you closer and it’s like another piece of him has fallen into place, your body slotting just right against his side, like you were made for each other. One to match the other, a balance to end all imbalances.

A complete set.

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The knock on your door makes you jump, shuddering beneath your fleece blanket.

You rub your eyes and stand to your feet, leaving the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It’s late, so you imagine it’s most likely just a package delivery.

You’re beyond surprised to see a bleeding Izuku Midoriya slumped forward, using his forearm to hold himself steady in your doorway. You gasp, your blanket dropping away from your shoulders to pool at your feet, launching yourself forward to catch him before he can topple to the ground.

“Izuku,” you gasp, tucking yourself beneath him so he can use you for support.

He laughs, but it turns into a wheezing string of coughs. You help him hobble through the threshold towards the kitchen, sitting him down close to the sink so you can clean him up. Tilting his head back, you look into his eyes and pray that they dilate. When his pupils shrink, you let loose a breath held captive in your lungs.

It’s hard not to think about the reality that this will add another scar to his tally. His whole body seems like a counter, really, with strikes and slashes marring his skin, turning it pink and keeping track of every battle.

Midoriya reaches up to cradle your face in his palm, fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of your cheeks, directly contrasted with his own rough complexion, “I needed to see you.”

“No,” you shake your head and squat down in front of him, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as you try to take in every part of him that’s bleeding, “you need to see a doctor!”

Before you can protest him any further, Izuku leans forward to crush your mouth beneath his own. He whimpers in pain as he kisses you, but it doesn’t stop him. In fact, it almost stirs him forward, spurring him to cup your face with his hands as tears track down to cut through the crimson lines on his cheeks.

Izuku Midoriya is nothing short of an enigma. Here he is, bruised and bleeding, but he wrought his way to find you despite all of the pain. You wish you could burden some of it on his behalf, taking up the mantle of his own personal Atlas, meant to shoulder the weight of his existence so he can catch a quick breath.

His forehead touches yours as he pulls away, a sobbing gasp parting his mouth, “I’ll be fine. I just need you.”

You brush his hair away from his eyes, forcing him to look at you with the tender turn of your wrist. His right eye is bruised and swelling itself shut, blood caked from his brow to his jaw, pouring steadily from the wound he’s got split open on his head.

The only thought running through your mind, creating a path of worn ground against your cerebrum, is that this will be but another one to add to the collection; another piece of art to hang in his mausoleum. Judging by the amount of blood caked in his hair and brow, and the depth of the wound, it will surely leave a tattered scar of flesh behind.

An errant thought crosses your mind then – will he have such painful memories of this specific wound? Or will he recall this one to be the scar that brought him back to you?

You can’t help it when your lower lip trembles. You can never be surprised at the story of this scar’s origin – it will be engrained in your mind forever. Despite your adoration for the hero, you share in his pain, your own body wincing as a new trickle of crimson stains his temple. You tense your jaw, the muscles in your neck quivering under the strain of your ministrations. Even if he remembers this night fondly, you know that every time you glance at the healed section of his body, you’ll remember his tears, his debilitating pain.

“I’m calling Toshinori,” you grit your teeth, steeling your will, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I let him know I was coming.” Izuku inhales in short bursts; it’s all his chest can handle before splintering pain streaks through his lungs like lightning. He winces as he shifts, one hand drifting to your hip. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric of your top, a shirt he recognizes as his own based on the size of it as it fully engulfs your figure. His logo is on the center, bright green text in stark contrast to the dark grey fabric.

A wave of pride swells within him, starting at the base of his back and building upward like effervescent champagne bubbles floating to the surface. He opens his mouth to set them free in the form of smothering kisses, his lips traveling to every available expanse of your skin he can find.

Deku is a force of nature, a whirlwind you cannot reckon with, so instead you succumb to him.

You allow him to swallow you whole for the first time, diving deeper into the eye of his storm until he is swirling around you and suffocating you. But you do not care. If this is how you have to go, with his tongue holding you hostage, hands like anchors on your hips, dragging you deeper until all you know is the darkness, then you are fine with that.

You’d gladly drown as long as he was the one holding you down.

But Izuku Midoriya is not the dark. He is anything but.

So, instead of burning your breath with his own oxygen, he fills you to the brim with light. He is a sunbeam incarnate, pushing through every crack in your bones to cement them with his kindness. His fingers, while biting into your hips, send a singing sensation up into your skin until you can’t help but smile into his kiss. They are rough with tattered flesh, scars of the past and present plaguing his body like a parasite, eating away at his skin until no longer has anything left to give.

Deku doesn’t wince when you sink down on top of him, settling your body against his thighs. Instead he wraps his arms around you to give you some kind of solace, palms searching your shoulders for the perfect place to rest. His fingers are warm beneath your shirt as his fingers seek out the curve of your spine.

The pure thickness of his body is not lost on you, not now. ­Your hands travel over his shoulders, his muscles rippling beneath the pads of your fingers. You shiver when he holds you closer, your chest flush with his, the tactile pleasure from his rough skin making your toes curl.

His shoulders are riddled with tiny, slicing scars, a light pink color in contrast to his standard tanned skin. You look for scar after scar, appreciating the damaged parts of him just as much as the smooth ones. You moan when both of his hands squeeze your waist, the pure size of him a gentle reminder as his palms engulf your ribs, his knuckles counting the bones as he runs his hands up and down.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs as he disconnects his mouth from yours, tears settled in his irises, making them glassy, “the villain I-I fought, th-they had a canceling quirk, and they almost got me.”

You know that got me is the safer, calmer equivalent of killed me. His kindness oozes like honey into every facet of him, filling the cracks like veins of marble. Your heart squeezes within your chest at the reality that he could have been lost to you, and suddenly the wounds on his body matter a little less.

No, now it is all about having him here, dense and hot beneath your body. Your fingertips tremble at the thought of him being a ghost of the past, something you once had a hold of, but now is nothing but a memory. You feel hot tears drip over your lashes, clumping up at the base of your eyelids as they flow freely. You sniffle, your hands finding the back of his head to cradle tenderly.

Izuku’s voice is soft, his cheeks gleaming red as he admits his next words, “You were all I could think about.”

Your voice breaks with a sob and you hold him tight around the neck, surging forward to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Izuku wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you snugly as he tilts his head for a better angle. You relish in the warmth he provides, his solid presence giving you comfort as you try to drink him in, pushing aside all the thoughts of potentially never having him like this again.

It’s not even about the way your stomach turns as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, or how hot your body grows as he engulfs you like a flame. No, it is something beautiful and pristine, something that curls around your spine and bolsters it, holding you upright with confidence. Izuku has given you something you haven’t had in so long that you almost can’t put a name to it.

Peace.

There is an undeniable calm that washes over you whenever he is around, whether it be by distance or severe closeness. He suffocates you in his light no matter how far away he is; purely by knowing that he is alive, your heart quiets in your chest. You feel safer as you walk down the streets, the very notion that he will always be there, watching from wherever he may be, builds your bones stronger so you can walk with confidence.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” you gasp, coming up for air. You don’t go far, your nose nudging over his cheek as you pant quickly, your chest heaving. “I-I can’t do this without you.”

“Hey,” Deku’s voice is calm, his palms reaching up the back of your shoulders to cover you entirely in his heat. All you want is to coat yourself in him from top to bottom, let him claim you however he needs to, so you never have to let this go. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You open your eyes as he nudges his nose over the bow of your lips, kissing your chin tenderly. Your pupils dilate as you take in the smattering of dark freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, painting his skin erratically so that you know he must be a work of art, a gift from the gods down to mankind. He is too perfect to be anything else.

Your forehead drops as you let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself with your grip on his shoulders. “I-I know, I just…”

Izuku repositions his hands so they’re beneath your top, the warm pads of his fingertips leaving a blazing trail of fire behind as he maps out the curves of your body. You watch as his ripped costume falls in tattered shreds on his shoulders, giving way to the pretty expanse of skin usually hidden beneath it.

The sight of his flayed skin, coated in scars and painted with beauty marks, makes your spine rattle within your frame. Your fingers drift to the bared parts of his body on instinct, a primal need settling in the pit of your stomach, and you trace over the white, lightning-like scars. Your thumb brushes over his collarbone, as if you could sweep away his freckles to leave behind unmarked skin.

Your mind wanders, thoughts branching out to wonder if there even is a patch of his skin that is pure, unmarred by any form of markings.

Izuku must follow your train of thought, because he peels his hands away from your body to tug his costume at the waist, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor before he pulls his shirt over his head, or what remains of it. The tattered fabric is in a bloody, dirty heap on the floor, but you barely have the wherewithal to notice when he is bared in front of you.

A gasp parts your mouth when you take in his nude torso. He is a plethora of contours and shadows, sinew holding his muscles together in a taut fashion. Your hands are hovering in front of his chest, darkened nipples piqued under the cool air blowing from the vent above. You have to force yourself to swallow, pent-up tension making your throat bob.

“See?” Izuku’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s holding himself back from tears, “I’m right here.”

Your eyes try to find a part of him that isn’t doused in speckles, the darkened patches of skin making him look even tanner. He has them sprinkled all over his body, clumps of them gathering together like tiny nebulas. Your gaze slowly drags down from his collarbones to his abdomen, the freckled dots like destinations on a treasure map, leading you to one central location.

When you make eye contact with the trail of dark hair that starts at his navel, thin and then growing thicker, you feel your stomach turn over. You lick your drying lips, a heat beginning to build up in your core. You would clench your thighs together, but the way you’re straddling him currently makes that impossible. Instead, you roll your hips forward so you can scoot further up his lap.

It’s like you don’t believe what you see in front of you – that he’s truly here, open and bare in front of you, vulnerable in every sense of the word. The wound on his head has stopped bleeding, but that doesn’t mean that he’s okay.

“Touch me.”

You tilt your head, confused by his forward command. Your cheeks burn bright with a blush and he chuckles at the sight of you so flustered. Midoriya takes you by the hands, guiding your touch to his chest first.

The tips of your fingers blaze when they find a ragged scar that stretches across the entirety of his pectoral, “I have so many of these ugly things.”

“How many?” you find yourself asking, the filter hard to find when he has you about ready to come undone like this. You feel yourself go lightheaded, hazy at the feel of his rough skin, his heart beating irregularly beneath your touch.

His voice is heavy when he answers, “I lost count.”

Your eyes snap upward to find the usual playful green color of his irises has faded to a pale jade shade, “Izu, hey-”

Deku swallows an emotional lump in his throat, eyelids fluttering at the pain of it before he inhales a full breath. His chest brushes up against yours and you have to withhold the whine that desperately wants to slip from your lips.

“I don’t understand why people are so fascinated with them,” his tone is teetering on the wrong side of angry, lips curled in a downward snarl. He glances south at the rest of his body, pale scars in stark contrast to the rest of his tanned body. “They’re just reminders of my failure.”

You are forceful when you pull his jaw upward, yanking him to face you before you kiss him harshly. Your intense kiss makes him gasp, his hips rolling up into you despite the pain he’s in. Your palms are bruising on his cheeks, but you don’t care because at least he’s kissing you. Deku’s fingertips finally make their way to your hips where he seeks purchase against your ribcage. His digits are tantalizing as he roams the expanse of your midsection.

“You’re my hero,” your voice is breathless and broken when you release him for oxygen. “Don’t you ever call yourself a failure again.”

Izuku’s throat bobs as he basks in your ferocity – eyes ablaze and fingertips harsh as you hold him in place. He finds himself nodding without really knowing what you’ve said, but he supposes that’s just the effect you have on him. You have taken root in his soul, the galaxy in your eyes blacking out everything else in his mind, allowing him not even a moment to let self-doubt creep in and steal away his faith.

After all, in his eyes, you are his whole world, shattered stars and all.

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“You picked dinner, so I get to pick the movie,” you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, your palms splayed against his chest as you press kisses into his shoulder blades.

You’re obsessed with his back, like some little secret you don’t get to see very often. Tonight the two of you were doing yoga before you ate dinner, so he’s currently clad in only a pair of compression pants that reach his mid-calf, leaving his entire upper body for you to appreciate with your gaze and explorative touches.

You nose over the curve of his spine, kisses open-mouthed as he washes the dishes in the sink. You hear his breath hitch and you wonder if now is a good time to start experimenting with how far you can go. Your eyes roam to the base of his spine, the two small dimples at the start of the swell of his ass making your mouth salivate. You relinquish one hand from his chest to dip your thumb into the cavity his muscles have created, brushing against a cluster of freckles.

It has been some time since you’ve seen him with his shirt off, and many times since then, but you’ve never been able to discover what’s below his belt. Your mind wanders as you suppress the itch in the base of your fingerprints, like the very code of you is designed to strip him down to nothing. You want to know how far his freckles truly go.

In your mind, you believe that he is sprinkled with stardust, paler patches of freckles sporadically placed along his body. He is a canvas, fresh and ready for the constellations to burn into his flesh. You want to swirl your hands over the galaxies imprinted upon him by the gods themselves; as if he were made of marble, ready to carve and curate however they may please.

You take a leap of faith when you dip your fingertips beneath the tight waistband of his joggers. The aborted stutter of his hips combined with the sharp intake of breath from his throat tells you all you need to know.

From here you can see clusters of freckles on the globes of his ass, concentrated mostly near the top, where sunlight can penetrate when he’s not in his hero suit. You have to catch yourself before you drip drool onto his curved backside.

The hand on his chest roams until you find his pebbled nipple, the crevices of your palm washing over the flesh until you hear a muted moan shake his throat. You lean forward, forehead tucked between the cartilage of his shoulder blades so you can feel the heat radiating from him even closer now.

“Can I-”

“Please.”

You’ve never heard him beg before, at least not like this.

It has been some time since your first date, since the first kiss, since the first confession. Your hands start to sweat at the thought of touching his salacious side, pricking with anticipation as you slowly make your way around his hip towards the bulge in his pants. Your tongue stills within your throat as you brush your thumb against the thick tufts of dark green hair at the base of his stomach beneath his navel.

His body is like a roadmap leading you to one desolate place, his skin singing with heat as you grow closer. You can almost make out a whine that he’s clamped his teeth down on to suppress, but that does nothing to deter you from finding a dozen other ways to elicit an infinite number of those same prurient sounds from his lungs.

When the outside of your palm brushes against the throbbing thickness held tight within his spandex, you feel your whole-body tense. Izuku gulps audibly and you have to hold in something that is a mix of a gasp and a giggle.

You reach your free hand down from his chest to pull at the band of his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. You can hear the bob of it against his stomach and you let out a heated breath that spills down over his spine. He shivers and you think that maybe you have him just as captivated as he usually has you.

The thought is thrilling. It bolsters your confidence and allows you the audacity to lean forward and slowly trail your fingers along the base of his cock, tickling him in the most tentative way possible. He grits his teeth and you can feel his buttocks clench in front of you as he tries his hardest not to buck forward and ruin your moment.

You kiss the smattering of freckles near the top of his right shoulder, lavishing the area with your tongue as you trail your thumb up the base of his cock until you reach the tip. You can feel the bead of pre-come beneath the print of your finger and you collect it with the ridges of your digit before dragging it downward to coat him before you begin to pump your hand.

He is thick in your hand, unforgivingly hard as his cock pulses within your grasp. You can tell that it’s taking all of his restraint not to throw his head back and release obscene sounds from his throat, like his desire is caged within his chest, begging to be let out with each erratic heartbeat.

Your tongue licks over his shoulders and you know that he must be imagining what your mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock based on the mewling whimpers that leave his tongue. You can hear him panting, but you want to see him, desperate and whining, so you tug on his waistline with your free palm.

It takes him a moment, his eyes glistening with bliss and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, but you manage to get him turned so he’s facing you. Your eyes drag slowly down the entire expanse of his torso, catching on his pert nipples, bright and pink as they shrink beneath the stinging touch of your fingertips. You catch onto the constellations of freckles drifting along his torso – if you look hard enough, you swear that they move. Your eyes cross when you look too closely, so instead you allow your attention to drop lower.

Izuku’s mouth is wide open as your eyes fall to the vee of his hips, the paler freckles placed there making you smile. You lower yourself to your knees, semi-uncomfortable thanks to the tile of the kitchen, but you don’t care. Right now, your focus is singled in on one thing and one thing alone.

You lick your lips and the closeness of your tongue to his cock makes Izuku blush in expectancy. There is a little line of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth if you blink your eyes free of lust. You pump him another time in your hand, collecting the new wash of pre from his tip to lubricate his cock. As you do so, your eyes drift to the base of him where his green pubic hair collects in a dark tuft. You can’t decide which part of him to focus on because it’s all too much.

Somehow, he has a scar that runs from the innermost part of his thigh upward, just beneath his balls. You wince at the thought of what had to have caused that, and how much it hurt. You allow one hand to drift over the scar as your eyes come into contact with the patch of freckles hidden beneath the trail of dark, coarse hair that is usually hidden by his clothing.

As you pump your hand down to the base of him, you use your thumb to brush some of the hair away, curious as to how dark the freckles are there. Izuku is completely maddened by your touch, fallen under the enchantment of your hands. He doesn’t even mind that you’ve taken a break from dragging your soft hand around his dick, his mind already blitzed from the short burst of ministrations you have already administered.

You hum as you kiss along the taut skin of his lower abdomen, dragging your lips and tongue towards the thick trail of hair that leads you to his cock. It’s almost like the freckled areas taste different, although you’ve probably made all of that up in your mind. And yet, you don’t mind that it’s more of a fantasy instead of a reality, relishing in the sweetness, nonetheless.

“Fuck,” you hear from above you, one of his hands hung in midair, unsure of whether to grab you or the counter. The other palm grips into his hair and the scalp, tugging to keep himself grounded so he does not float away at the gentle caress of your tongue against his skin.

The bow of your lips purses as you kiss upward to the head of his cock, bright red and teeming with pre-come. The silvery, pearlescent bud of arousal makes your mouth water and you find that you can’t help yourself as you encircle your lips around the tip of him.

Izuku is immediately broken from whatever resilience he was able to gather, his hips bucking forward as he slams both hands into the counter. Little broken bits of marble fall into your hair but you don’t care, instead indulging yourself in watching his reaction to your movements. Midoriya’s pupils are blown wide, completely taken over his usually wide irises. The green bleeds black, lust like a cloud misting in his line of sight.

As his upper body tenses, you’re able to see every contour of muscle, every cord of sinew, and you can’t help it when drool dribbles down your chin onto the tile floor. You moan against the head of his cock, taking another inch of him in as you slide forward to get more comfortable. The sound of his nails creaking against the countertop makes your cunt flutter from within the cotton of your panties, clenching around nothing as you imagine the thickness of him in your mouth against your glutinous walls, squeezing him for all the come he can produce.

You trail one hand around the curling scars on his thigh, thumbprint finding the ridges of the expansive scar, the raised skin making your heart ache for a moment before you refocus on his dick. Your eyes almost cross as you try to focus on the freckles now hidden once more by the thick green hair at the bottom of his belly.

As you retreat backward, your line of sight continues down the length of his cock to realize that he has a littering of freckles of varying shapes, sizes, and colors, scattered all along the entire shaft of his dick, and even a few on the tip. You can’t help it when you smile, licking at them as if they could be removed if you lapped at the skin harshly enough.

It is the small things such as this that make your time with Izuku Midoriya so enjoyable. You are learning something about him every day, something even more interesting and exciting than the last.

Before you can slip your lips further down his length, his hand reaches up to clean the debris from your hair, a broken apology parting his lips momentarily. You look up at him, the tenderness in his touch making your heart go soft.

“H-Holy,” his hips buck forward when you blink up at him, the base of his throat bobbing as he curses, “shit.”

As you pull away from his cock, Izuku’s chest shudders as he tries to regulate his breathing. He shifts his feet on the tile beneath you trying to keep himself from pushing up onto the balls of his toes so he can keep some semblance of control as you pleasure him.

Izuku turns away from you and you whine, your tongue licking the underside of his cockhead before you ask, “Why won’t you look at me?”

He can barely force the words out of his throat as he gazes down at you briefly, the sounds coming forth berated and bedraggled, as if he’d dragged barbed wire across the syllables, “I can’t, damn it. I-I’m gonna-”

You take advantage of the line of sight he has on you, opening your mouth wide and taking him in one fell sucking motion.

Midoriya chokes on his own drool, a little silvery string of it falling in midair until it creates a droplet on the crown of your head. He can’t even find the focus to apologize, his knuckles white as he grips the countertop to keep himself sane.

The word he squeaks out next makes you smile, your teeth grazing his dick: “-come.”

You take it as a challenge, gripping his thighs with your nails, digging crescent moons into his pretty tan skin, adding the shapes to his star-like freckled skin, creating a whole galaxy with a simple bruising touch. Izuku can’t help it as his hips stutter forward, the tip of his cock bucking into the back of your mouth to make you gag.

He’s not sure how you do it, with his cock jammed all the way into the back of your throat, but somehow you have the wherewithal to cup his balls in one hand as the other uses his leg like an anchor to stay hovering on your toes. You never cease to amaze him, even now as you’re on your knees and worshipping his cock like your life might depend on it.

“Touch me,” you whimper as you come up for air, “if you won’t look at me, touch me, please.”

Izuku licks his lips and barely has it in him to pull his hand from the counter, but somehow, he manages it. His hand threads through your locks, fingertips buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline and desire. The lust has his whole being singing with anticipation as you bring him to the precipice of arousal. He knows that he won’t last much longer, especially not with you drooling around his cock and bobbing your head in perfect rhythm. And now that he can feel you beneath his fingers, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to speak coherently when this is all over with.

His hands are exploratory in your hair, dipping in and out of your tresses like waves, finding your scalp to scratch lightly, eliciting a husky moan from your throat. The vibrations of your sounds make his cock pulse, twitching against your tongue as you suck him deeper. Izuku isn’t sure how there is anymore of your throat for him to fuck, but when you hollow out your cheeks, he slides further in, and the pleasure starts to coil around the base of his spine as he’s worked towards his high.

“Baby, I-I’m close,” Izuku manages to blurt when he’s coherent enough, your tongue sweeping down the vein on the underside of his dick. He gasps for breath, his head hanging forward, so his dark curls sweep over his lashes to hide his pretty orbs from you. He grunts, as he ruts up into you, “Real close, hell.”

You take it as a challenge, stiffening your posture so you can force your head up and down, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto your pants, but you don’t care. The way his hands grip into your scalp and the quivering of his thighs as he holds off his own release are but a war cry for you, begging your body to go further, to force that release from within his body.

“Come for me, Izu,” you whimper against his cock, the words muffled by the thick skin of him. You try your best to pout, looking innocent with eyes blown wide, “Please, I wanna taste you. So bad.”

His jaw falls slack, and you know that he’s close, his tip is practically rock hard against your teeth. You hollow out your cheeks and moan as you slowly suck him as hard as you can manage with your jaw starting to ache from the stretch of him. Your pussy clamps around nothing, begging for his girth within your walls.

A few heaving breaths stretch his chest, the muscles of his pectorals rippling in strain as he tries to hold himself back, to respectfully come undone instead of sputtering out like a teenager. You nod with his cock still in your mouth, your tongue padding over the sensitive underside. A wuthering whimper breaks within his throat and you feel his thighs clench one final time before he’s coming apart between your cheeks.

You try to breathe through your nose, his cock buried all the way in your mouth so his come hits in spurts against the back of your throat. You use your hands dug into the plush flesh of his ass to steady yourself, his body uncaring to the pain as long as he’s bucking up into your mouth. His hand in your hair goes tight before falling slack, gentle fingertips wafting through your tresses aimlessly.

You tilt your head back as he begins to soften within your lips, trying to keep his come from dribbling out the corners of your mouth. You catch most of it, the slightly sweet taste of it helping it to go down smoother. You suck him one more time, trying to pull the rest of the arousal from his slit, and a high-pitched whine breaks through the calm of the air like shattering glass.

“S-Sorry,” he moans as his eyes screw shut, one of his palms latching onto the countertop again.

A content laugh turns your lips upward and you kiss the head of his cock before he helps you rise back to your feet. Before you’re upright again, he bolsters forward to kiss you square on the lips. His tongue delves between your teeth, mapping out the curves of your gums as he tastes his spend in each crevice of your mouth.

The moan that reverberates from his chest makes your toes curl, your hands curling to fists against his chest as he presses further into you, trying to be flush with your entire body. You can barely breath as he suffocates you lovingly, bringing stars into your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands spread out over the plane of his chest, the tips of your fingers searching for his scars, the placement of them burnt into your mind like a map.

Deku pulls away with a panting string of apologies mixed with appreciation, his irises overtaking his pupils now that he’s come down from his high. His hands search your face and then your arms, taking in every inch of you as he kisses all over your face.

You giggle, wrapping your fingers around his neck to play with the sharp hair at the nape of his neck, the undercut style making his locks dense and coarse up to his ears where the straight line runs.

“What movie do you want to watch?” you ask breathlessly, scrunching your nose as he kisses the tip of it.

Izuku is winded when he nudges his nose against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t fucking care.”

You roll your lips together, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss his mouth chastely, “We might have to do that more often if I’m going to get whatever I want each time.”

The thought of you going down on him makes his heart stutter within the cage of his ribs, stars spread out and blinding against the backs of his lids. He can already imagine the sight of you on your knees, your lips around him as you moan and writhe while he holds your hair tight within his fist…

“Earth to Izuku?” you pat his cheek playfully. “You with us?”

His voice is stuttered as he answers you, a blissful glassiness still coating his irises, “Y-Yeah, I’m right here. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

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“C’mon, Princess, you can take it, I know you can,” he murmurs into midair, voice stern but breathy, sending a shiver down your spine.

You lick at the head of his cock, engorged and bright red, beads of pre-come bubbling out of his slit, awaiting you to catch them with your tongue. You lap over the taut, pinkened skin, eyes fluttering closed at the taste of him – a fine combination of salty and sweet. You can’t help the draw of your attention to the tanned splotches covering him like stardust, mapping out what would seem to be a different set of constellations every time you look too long.

Izuku’s hand is woven into your hair carefully, so he does not pinch your scalp, but he can still hold onto the makeshift ponytail he’s created with his fingers bunched around your tresses. You whimper, eyes torn from his freckled skin, as he guides your mouth closer to his cock, the head of him brushing against your closed lips.

His voice is thick with restraint, his throat bobbing at the sight of your pretty, jeweled irises looking between him and his cock, wondering how you’re going to take the thick of him between your plush little lips. Your eyes are almost crossed as you try to count his freckles, as if you could pay that close of attention when he’s got you on your knees.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, Angel?” Deku is patronizingly kind as he brushes his knuckles over the curve of your jaw. Your eyes zero in on the scarred stripes along his palm and forearm, your fingertips reaching up to slowly drag across the pale lines that tell a story you’ve heard a dozen times. Izuku makes an audible noise of consideration at your marveling, “You were just beggin’ me for my cock, and now you won’t even open your mouth for me?”

He sounds like he’s pouting, lower lip jutted out just enough for it to look convincing. You swallow your inhibitions, throat bobbing when he brushes his cock along the hollows of your cheeks, the head of him smearing what remains of his pre onto your skin. He chuckles as you gasp, your jaw hung open just enough for him to rut up into your mouth.

You gag around him, lurching forward as tears coat your lashes. You whimper, looking up to him like he might save you from what’s to come. But no, you asked for this. You begged him to let you taste his cock, to have him spill his fullest load onto your tongue and force you to swallow.

“Such a pretty girl,” his words turn to a moan as you take him to the base, forcing yourself to breathe evenly so you won’t gag around him again. His hand in your hair tightens and you take a deep breath, the short, stubbled pubic hairs surrounding his cock doing little to hide the freckles on his smooth skin.

You’re not sure why you love them so much – the freckles.

They are such a distraction that you don’t notice Izuku yanking you by the ponytail until you come off his cock with a loud pop. You whine, keening forward to try and lick at his tip, “I-Izu-please.”

“Uh uh,” he cinches his hand around your hair even tighter, tugging your skin backward until it burns. A smirk lilts his lips, “What’s my name, baby girl?”

Your eyes go wide, pupils swallowing your irises whole. Deku almost misses the color, if it not for the fucked out look that takes their place, telling him exactly what he’s done to you. He bites down on his lower lip, half-hooded lids considering you, “You’re already a mess for me, aren’t you baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Your cock,” you whine, squinting your eyes so you don’t have to feel his authoritative penetrating your very being. Your thighs tense, pussy clamping down around nothing but thin air, wet with arousal and begging to be full of him. Before Izuku can tell you to correct yourself with a simple syllable, you repeat yourself, “Your cock, Daddy.”

A satisfied expression smooths his features, the red of his cheeks doing little to hide the smattering of freckles to match those littered across his cock and thighs. You brush your nose against his navel, kissing the gentle swell of muscle beneath it. Izuku licks his lips, hips rolling forward so his cock brushes over the length of your throat.

“That’s’a good girl.” Deku purses his lips as you kiss down his shaft, your tongue lapping over every inch of him. Your eyes are level with his pubic bone, searching for the tanned droplets of sunshine incarnate on his skin, hidden beneath dark tufts of jade hair curled around the base of his cock.

Before you take him between your lips, you lick a stripe from the underside of his shaft up to his navel. You can’t help yourself as the dark smattering of freckles call out to you, a reminder that even though he is tainted by the war of the world, you still have these small victories to come back to. You worship his taut skin with your lips and tongue, the muscle parting your mouth to lick at his body.

Izuku’s fingers weave into the hair at the base of your head, eyes watching you closely as you pay special attention to the various patches of densely packed freckles. You nose over his hipbone, breathing slowly, the wash of warmth prickling his skin and forcing him up on his toes as he reacts to it.

There is a large part of him that wants you to stop. Not because he’s selfish enough to force you to pay attention to the throbbing heat between his legs, but rather because your praise is something that makes him feel even more unworthy. He is self-conscious of his body, both the discolored spots that he’s never able to be rid of in tandem with the ragged rips in his flesh that you seem to love so much. He has never understood your fascination with his body, but you are relentless with your affections.

It comes in many forms. At times it is the way you run your fingertips over his shoulders when you’re laying together, and other times it is your mouth finding his knuckles when you think he’s asleep. You are unashamed to lavish his body with unending passion, and even the smallest of deformities that he believes are his secret, you manage to find.

You loll your tongue out to let the collected spit pool over his length, sucking at the head when you get to it. Deku rubs his thumb against your neck, fingertips searching your hair for purchase. He’s taken aback when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking him deep into the heat of your mouth. His eyes go wide, but he’s thankful you can’t see with the way his head is thrown back.

“Fuck, baby,” his hand twitches against your scalp, “fuck, this mouth.”

He starts rolling his hips forward, pumping himself in and out of your mouth like he might your pussy. You feel drool seeping out of the corners of your lips but you don’t dare break away, because that would bring forth a punishment, and your cunt is already sopping wet with the anticipation of his cock buried deep within you. Deku grunts, his chest vibrating with the sound, and he holds you still with the hand against your head.

You reach up to find his free palm, lacing your fingers together at the knuckle, using him as some sort of an anchor to reality as the subservient headspace begins to take over. It washes through you like a balm, a warm sensation that feels like home.  Your eyelids fall over your irises, hiding your expression from him, but he can tell the way you feel by your ministrations against his hand and on his cock. You are desperate for him, one hand clutching his thigh until your nails dig in and leave tiny crescent moon prints behind.

You like to think of his freckles as stars, your marks making him more like the night sky with each grip. You moan as you hold yourself at the base of him, tongue lapping around his length from within your mouth. Your thumb finds a familiar scar on the back of his hand, knuckles marred from battle and bravery.

It’s times like these that you want to cry for him, for what his body has endured. It’s the reason you want to worship every inch of him, to give him what he deserves because god knows the world will never give him back what he’s due. So here you sit, perched in front of him like a little dove, eyes blown to hell and your metaphorical wings spread wide as you take him for all he’s worth.

Izuku can’t take it any longer – the tenderness of your touch mixed with the obedient look in your eyes. It’s all too much, making his head spin at your sincerity.

“C’mere,” he whispers, tugging you by the throat, gently but firmly.

And you follow him, like you would follow him anywhere.

You step forward dumbly, blindly going wherever he tells you. He guides you to the bed, turning you over so your face is pressed into the coolness of the sheets, your bright red cheeks thankful for the change in temperature. You angle your ass upward perfect, round globes ripe for his hands to lay into.

“Such a sloppy little pussy, baby,” he murmurs against the skin of your lower back as he kisses down your spine. His middle finger runs up and down the length of your slit, collecting the silvery strands against his digit, “All this just for me?”

“All for you, Daddy, all for you, promise,” you’re whimpering out, cunt desperately clenched as you try to trap his finger in your heat. “Please, I want you so bad, need your cock, Daddy.”

Izuku pushes his finger into your core, curling it up towards that special spot that it seems only he can find. His finger is thick, knuckle curved in just the right way that it drags along your walls salaciously, eliciting a loud, careening moan from your mouth. You muffle your sounds into the mattress, but Midoriya is having none of that.

He yanks you by the throat, fingers digging deep into your skin until you’re sure that you’ll have bruises, “Nah uh, little one. I want to hear you scream for me.”

Midoriya pumps his finger into you mercilessly, your arousal coating him down to the palm, making your thighs slick. You whimper, your lewd sounds echoing off the walls. You can feel the tip of his cock against your ass, throbbing with heat, and there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself from imagining it in place of his fingers.

“I know you can be louder, slut,” Deku pinches your neck tighter in his grip, “I want the neighbors to know my name when we’re through.”

You try to protest but it’s cut short when his finger rams into you, two knuckles deep, a sharp cry splitting your throat wide open. The sound morphs into a whimper, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes.

Deku leans forward to kiss between your shoulder blades, his voice hoarse with want when he speaks, “That’s my girl. Do it again.”

He relinquishes your throat to start slapping your ass, his eyes unable to fall away from your pretty skin marked red from his ministrations. You grit your teeth together so you can better withstand the pain, giving yourself something else to focus on besides his unrelenting spankings.

“Daddy, harder,” you whine, your ass stinging but not so much that you can’t follow through on your plea.

A dark chuckle reverberates throughout the room, Midoriya’s smirk from earlier returning. If you could see his eyes, you’d notice the way his pupils have completely overtaken his emerald orbs, giving way to the parts of him that want to make you hurt only so he can be the one to soothe you all better.

He indulges you, palm stretched wider so he can land harder smacks to your cheeks. Now he’s got two fingers in you, filling your cunt with his knuckles, the scars against them giving you friction that makes you see stars. He pumps you in time with his spankings, slow but merciless. Deku is careful not to go too far, no matter how difficult that might be with the lust that clouds his vision, painting his sight bright red.

“Good girl,” he rewards you by stopping, grabbing your plush ass in his fingertips, digging blunt nails into your skin so it stings even harsher.

You rut your hips back against his hand at the sudden jolt of pain, tears dripping from your eyelids to the mattress, staining the sheets a darker shade. You whimper, your mind unable to focus on any one stimulation – your ass, your cunt, or your throat.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” he asks, although you know it to be rhetorical.

You’re nodding your head anyway, desperately begging inaudibly for him to stuff you full, your cunt suffocating around his cock as he pounds into you. Deku slowly drags his hand from your pussy, words dripping just like your core, “What was that, Princess? I couldn’t hear you.”

Now you’re foaming at the mouth to force syllables from between your teeth, blubbering around tears. You sniffle, frustrated with your own headspace and timid with the thought of punishment for not answering quick enough, “Y-Yes, Daddy. I-I’m ready.”

“Hey,” he runs his hand, searing from the spankings, up the length of your spine, fingertips mapping out each vertebra, “you still with me, baby?”

You turn to look over your shoulder when he brushes his thumb over the little blooming bruises on your neck, evidence of his fingers claiming you for his own, “Yeah, I-I’m right here.”

A smile tugs on his lips, his fingers finally pulled from your sopping heat to coat his cock in your slick. You whimper at the loss of contact, cunt fluttering around nothing as you beg for him to fill you up again, any way he chooses.

And he obliges you, bottoming out within the first stroke.

You can’t help it when a fresh set of saltine droplets track down your cheeks, your head thrown back in pleasure as he holds himself steady, his pelvis flush with your ass. It still burns, the stinging of skin-on-skin doing little to quell the ache from his spankings. You lick your lips to try and soothe yourself in some way, your throat already crackling from use.

Licking your lips, you gently move back against him, encouraging him, “Daddy, I want you to fuck me. Please, won’t you fuck me?”

Deku sounds like he’s trying to hold back some sort of salacious sound, a strangled noise caught in his throat like barbed wire. You look back at him, chin pressed against your collarbone. It’s the sight of you that does him in, that wants to claim you for every ounce of what you’ve got to give. He wants to mark your body until there is no color remaining but bright purple and blue and red, bruises and scrapes alike adorning your pretty body, letting the whole world know exactly who you belong to.

The thought of sinking his teeth into every available spot of skin that he can find makes his fingers curl tighter around the supple skin of your thighs until you’re crying out for him. You writhe beneath him as opens his eyes, baring even your soul with his stare. His body squirms as he withstands the desire to launch himself at you, feral and promising with his teeth finding your pristine body and marring it for his own selfish cause.

At least then your bodies would match in their markings.

You’d be his own little galaxy; he muses as his hands massage into your thighs to keep himself busy, so he doesn’t follow through on the yearnings rolling around in his mind. He can see you stood next to him, your body littered in affections – hickeys that are blown out all around your body, little nebulas and planets with their swirling colors of purple and blue; long lines of bright pink scratch marks that streak forward like shooting stars curling around your muscles; pierced tooth marks that scatter across your body like stars.

Even though he’s the Number One Pro Hero, Izuku has never felt so whole until he’s balls deep in your pussy, the tip of him tucked up against your cervix so much so that you swear you feel him in your spine. He takes one palm to gently brush over your stomach, the bulge of his cock making his pride swell almost as much as your belly. You are his whole world, whether or not you are just as bruised and battered as he is. He will bear the burden of the scars if it means he can have you like this forever.

“Take me so well, Princess,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulders, leaning forward so his chest is pressed flush with your back.

He is hot, but not unbearably so. Almost in a way that reminds you he is still there, an anchor for your soul to latch onto in the darkness of the room, holding you firmly to tether you to this version of reality. You grasp the sheets in your hands, desperate to feel him but unable to from this position, so you settle for the thread count instead.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel you,” you beg him again, whimpers bubbling up into your chest like champagne bubbles. The effervescent feeling is almost too much, too overwhelming, as it rushes to your head quickly. You have to close your eyes, so you do not get dizzy. You see stars as your lids come down over your pupils and the sight of them reminds you of Izuku’s body. So much so that you want to look up at him again, begging him with your words, “Want to touch you.”

Deku obliges you, slowly pumping his tremoring cock in and out of your heat, coating himself in your slick before twisting your body around so you can peer up at him through half-lidded eyes, “Look at this slutty, sloppy pussy. Such a pathetic little mess for me, aren’t’cha?”

“Yes, Daddy, all for you.” You nod, blinking repeatedly to try and keep your eyesight clear so you can make out his beautiful travesty of a body. Despite the absolute adoration held in your pretty orbs, Deku notices that it is not his face you seek out when you first are turned to look at him, instead your eyes drift to the bared parts of his body that he hates most.

It would seem that each time you find him this way, with your hands mapping out his torso underneath your touch, you find a new part of him, a new marking that you don’t remember being there before. Your breath shudders from your lungs and it feels like thunder erupts in your chest when you breathe, “Please, Daddy.”

You are pouting as you start to run your touch up his arms, starting at his wrists where his palms are pinning your hips into the bed. You swirl your thumbnail around the familiar scars of his hands, those old marks from his time at Yuuei, pushing himself to be the best young hero-in-training there ever was. You recall watching the Sports Festival in his first year, the fight with Todoroki Shouto like a burnt ember settled in the back of your mind. You see the fire and the ice, the shuddering arena shaking with the imminent power of the teenager prodigies.

A hum buzzes in your throat as your fingerprints map out the way to his elbows, finding lengthy scars that make you shudder. Your tongue lolls out against your lips as you wish you could patch his body up with your kiss. You know that he does not marvel at the sight of himself in the same way that you might; you put him up on this pedestal, scars and all, and yet he only sees them as a weakness.

The rough patch of tarnished skin on his right bicep has begun to lose its rigidity as time passes. It was one of his first scars and has been worn down with time. Your hand still finds it, though, even as your eyes are screwed shut and he is angled away from you. It’s like you have a map of his body burned into the back of your eyelids, memorized from all of the times that you’ve fallen apart beneath him or comforted him with your touch.

He is patronizing when he speaks next, eyes blown to hell at the sight of you so far gone for him when he hasn’t even brought you to your first orgasm. He can feel you spasming around him, cunt flexing to try and coax him closer to the edge. He is nowhere near the precipice, holding himself off for your sake, wanton to see you come undone around his cock.

Your pupils try their hardest to focus, begging to be drawn to his bedraggled skin, the stark contrast between tan skin and pale scars heightened even further in your blissed-out state. Your palm flattens against the marking on his bicep, the flayed spot even more expansive than your hand in its entirety. You gasp as he ruts up into you painfully quick, your fingers digging into the rugged flesh, nails biting against the ridges.

When he stills within you, it gives you a moment to slacken your hold and trace the corners of the scar, pretending that he is a patchwork quilt, an antique that you’ll never be able to get enough of. You take a breath and use your free hand to find his chest, a lightning-bolt shaped scar that runs from his collarbone down until it fizzles out into a small scratch near where his taut pectorals meet.

Midoriya trails his thumb downward to your clit, brushing the rough pad of his finger against your sensitive bud. You mewl into the mattress, face turning sideways into the pillow as you no longer are able to hold yourself upright. You beg him to fuck you harder, faster, with something more that you know he has not given you yet.

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell Daddy exactly what you want me to do to this pathetic, slutty little pussy.”

You gasp out words, but he cannot make sense of them as they’re lost in the fabric of the sheets. He slams into you once before dragging his cock outward, slowly skimming the tip between your folds, “Louder. Or else I’m spanking you again.”

He thinks for a moment, tilting his head to consider you as he looks down his nose at you, “And I’m flipping you back over.”

“N-No, please, wanna-” You are begging for breath, your inflamed lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, and you can’t make syllables coherent enough for him to understand. You whimper, squeezing your eyes closed as the brunt of his hand comes down hard over your ass repeatedly until you’re screaming.

Izuku is holding you by the ass, both hands dug deep into the plush skin, “Did I fucking stutter?”

You are able to behold one last gaze of his ethereal body, skin marked like the night sky, before he has you with your face dug into the pillow, his cock and hips jackhammering into you from behind. He does not give you but a moment to breath, the fabric of the pillow stuffing your throat as you try to inhale through your mouth. You cough and it causes your cunt to squeeze around his dick. Deku stutters forward, a choking sound echoing in the back of his throat.

“Holy hell,” he mutters, leaning forward to drape himself across your back, reaching around with his hands to pinch at your nipples. “So fuckin’ tight, little one. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You whimper out something that sounds like a response, so he takes the lead and starts rutting into you again, the obscene sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing off of the walls. You can’t help the drool that spills from your tongue, wetting the sheets and sticking to your chin. You’re practically in tears as he abuses your pussy with his cock, it only growing as you feel the buildup of his power starting to swell from within him.

The air turns electric, but not nearly hot enough for you to know that he’s turned his quirk on. You force a glance over your shoulder, mewling out something that sounds like a pleading cry for him to turn you back so you can gaze up at him again.

“But I like taking you like this, Princess,” Izuku runs his thumbs over your ass, using the cusp of his power to strike small lightning bolts of seafoam color against the skin of your backside. You jolt at the pain, bucking your hips back into him and he moans, “There you go, baby.”

You whine, curling your toes against his hips from your position. He chuckles at the sign of desperation, sweat glistening down your back from exertion. His hips slam forward again, and you’re sure he’s bruised your cervix this time with how deep he has buried himself into you. There are ridges of scar tissue around his hip bones that you can feel even as he fucks into you from behind, the raised skin making your ass burn from where he has slapped you with the strength of his quirk.

“Daddy, I wanna,” you are panting like a puppy into the sheets, your pussy dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You huff out a breath and squeal when he splits your pussy open again with a particularly rough thrust forward, “Daddy!”

Deku pinches your backside with both hands, the biting touch of pain making your eyes water until tears are coating your lashes and staining the pillowcase, “What, huh? What more do you want, Princess?”

You know that Izuku is a sucker for your needs. If you whine hard enough, he’ll give you anything you want. So, with that in mind, you pout to give your demeanor an even more innocent aspect, “I-I wanna kiss you, p-please.”

As expected, he stills his hips from where he is bruising your ass with his scars and bones alike. You wonder for a moment if the imprint of his marred skin will leave an impression on you if you could carry around a little piece of him always.

However, this time when he yanks himself from you, a squelching sound echoes throughout the room in tandem with your mewling whine at the loss of heat, and he does not reenter you immediately. You are about to stutter out something akin to a protest, but you feel his fingertips dip into your sides and instead you let loose a yelp.

Deku takes you by the hips, easily yanking you upward and flipping you around so your back is flush with the mattress, the sweat on your spine making the sheets stick to you. Your eyes are wide, hands gripping into his marred biceps like claws sinking into his skin.

“What?” he is smirking as he nudges his nose against yours, the heat of his cock pressed into your folds but not penetrating just yet. “I like this angle better.”

He nips at your skin before pulling himself back, his hand groping your breast with purpose. He is tweaking your nipple under his touch while his other hand runs his cock against your slick heat, teasing you mercilessly. He watches the lips of your pussy tense when he gets close, wavering at the anticipation of his cock dredging into you with force.

“Plus,” Deku tilts his head, palm reaching up from your chest to grab your face between his fingers, “you never answered me.”

His thumb finds your clit again, dick teasing you by resting between your thighs, throbbing and dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his pre. His fingers are intense as they squeeze your cheeks together, lips ballooned out pertly. Deku chuckles at the sight of you, red in the face and begging him for more with the subtlety of your eyes.

Something twinges within him as he can’t keep your focus on his eyes, but rather on his body. He should feel pride swell in his chest at your adoration of his finely tuned body from years of hard work, but he knows that you are focused on the scars of his body and it gives him a sour taste in his mouth.

The thoughts in his mind flee from your pert chest and smooth stomach and instead he wonders what it is about his skin that you find so enticing. You run your fingertips over each ridged scar, finding the different colors of worn skin beneath the pads of your hands, showing them immense affection with just a gentle touch. His whole body shudders at the feel of you appreciating him with massaging motions and tracing, but he wants to ask you the questions he’s been begging silently for months, years even.

You are trying to form words, but the only thing coming from your mouth is spittle, drool seeping through the cracks of your lips until it coats your chin, cool beneath the air conditioning. Slowly your eyes roll forward so you can look into his darkened pupils, the middle of his irises resembling the darkest beauty marks that he has littered throughout his body. You smile at the sight of his intense irises seeking you out.

Midoriya laughs as the heel of his hand sops it up, smearing it back against your lips before cleaning his palm on the bed sheets. He leans forward, his cock sheathed fully within you as he grows closer to your face. Your palm reaches out to cup his jaw, the tips of your fingers finding the familiar pale lines of his skin to trace like it were a nervous tick.

“C’mon, now,” he kisses your nose, an innocent gesture in stark contrast to the intense motions he’s administering to your clit. “Tell Daddy.”

Your mouth splits wide open with the three words, a confession you know that he’s heard you utter before, but it does not come any less lascivious from your lips the more you beg, “One for All.”

He does not respond immediately, pupils dilated as he glances down at you. Your body squirms beneath his lack of movement, begging for some sort of friction on any part of you. The skin of your ass tingles as he presses you down firmer into the mattress, and you want to cry out but all you can blubber is those three words, again and again, as you plead for him to use his quirk on you.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you swear to him, nodding your head enthusiastically, “I want it so bad, Daddy, please, I want you to-”

Your begging is cut short by a sizzling in the air, the familiar popping of his quirk activating making your skin pebble with goosebumps. Your mouth runs dry at the sight of his skin lighting up with those familiar red lines, power coursing through his veins and making his hair stand on end.

Reaching up, you run your fingers through it, nails scraping at his scalp so you can feel the heat of his energy sparking against your fingertips. You arch your back upward to try and catch some of the wayward sparks, the salacious stinging of your skin only furthering the copious amount of slick between your thighs.

Deku tilts his head up to look you in the eyes, pupils shrunken down so his sea green irises can shine bright, glowing in the darkness of your bedroom. The entire room is aglow with his power, the very strength and resilience that has allowed him to build up so much intensity a conduit for your pleasure. His cock pulses against your thighs and you find yourself clenching around him, your body begging for him to stay close, too frightened at what might happen if he were to pull away.

“This what you wanted?”

His voice is deeper now, a rumbling timbre in his chest that makes your toes curl. You are panting at the expectancy of it all, sweat trickling down your temples and spine from the sudden change in temperature. The heat rises the longer he uses his quirk, so much so that you wonder if you could burn from it. The thought excites you, lights up your eyes until you cannot hold it in anymore.

You lean forward to kiss him on the mouth, slotting your lips between his. Pops of electricity stem from his entire body, sparking in midair before fizzling out with a gentle wash of ash. Deku licks at the seam of your lips, pressing his tongue between your teeth to map out every bump of your gums.

“Please,” you whimper against his tongue, “fuck me, hero.”

You have no more than spoken the words when his cock slips into your heat, coated with your arousal as quickly as he can rut forward. He grits his teeth to keep his composure, body trying to crumble between the use of his quirk and the feel of your tight cunt. You can’t help but notice the way he stretches you out even more so now than before, and you know that it’s in part to the fact that his girth has widened even further after he’s summoned his dormant power.

Deku reaches forward to press his glowing palm to your chest, rolling the bud of your breast between his fingertips as he starts to fuck into you. Your body is racked with effort, practically a ragdoll beneath him, all weak joints and jellied bones. And yet he is as powerful as ever between his mouth and his hands and his dick, every part of him built for your utmost undoing.

Lines of electricity fly from his body, bright green lightning strikes making the air pop all around you. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth when the first one stings your skin, lighting up the room in a flash of intense voltage. Izuku pauses, his hips stilling, “Baby?”

“Again,” you are panting, eyes half-closed as you revel in the pleasure from the shockwave. “Please.”

Deku has to focus on the electric side-effect of his quirk, closing his eyes so he can control the power radiating from his body. He starts to roll his hips into you slowly, once he feels settled with the coursing energy brought on by One for All.

You peel your lids back so you can watch as energy rushes through his frame, lighting up his body in such a way that reminds you of the pure power that he keeps hidden from the world most of the day. The light coursing just beneath his skin only serves to further draw out the beauty of his marred skin. His freckles are stars painted against the bright red and green patterns of electricity surging around his body like lightning bolts. You reach up to brush your thumbs against the apples of his cheeks, sucking in a breath at the sheer heat he’s radiating.

The reality that you have the very universe under your touch does not go unnoticed by you. You marvel at the constellations splayed out before you on his skin, giving you a small drop of the milky way right here in your home. It is overwhelming, the thought of it all dizzying as the heat thuds against the back of your eyes. And despite the boulder that sits on your shoulders at the burden of having to hold up his universe, you feel a jolt of exhilaration with the responsibility settling in your belly. You will be the one who he can crumble into when he’s tired of shining out for everyone else.

After all, a star can only be born after a nebula collapses.

Deku’s arms are strong around you as he holds you in place, cock sliding deep into your heated core, collecting your slick and his pre for easier lubrication, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft making you shiver as it drags against your walls. His biceps flex with the use of his quirk and the effort of holding you in midair to keep you snapped up into him and your hands are drawn to his bulging muscles all over again.

There is no doubt that he could keep you safe from any harm – one flick of his fingers, and a villain is rendered to a helpless annoyance.

The notion makes you shiver, reaching your hands up towards his shoulders, caressing his arms to feel the protruding cords of muscle rippling under the stress of his quirk. Your fingerprints find scars, puckered pink and marring his pretty tan skin. Other people might think that these markings make him weak, proving that he is fallible, mortal. But you think that every line on his body is a visible reminder that he has given so much to those who might not ever give it back. He has been beaten, bruised, and broken, and yet here he still stands, tall and proud in the face of danger.

Izuku knows that look in your eyes – wonder, awe, respect.

It swells his pride even further, his chest taut as he puffs himself up at the sight of you with adoration like stars in your irises. His thrusts are more intense now, guiding you closer to the cusp of pleasure, begging your body with the pulse of his cock to come undone.

“I-Izu, please.” You’re pushing your face into the pillow now, the burning hot pool building up steam in your belly becoming too much. He doesn’t even care that you’ve slipped up, not when he’s got you wrapped around him like a coil, working you from the inside out to drag the licentious sounds from your throat.

“Please what, Princess?” His hand sparks electricity around your chest, your nipple now pert with the fizzle of electricity as it creeps beneath your skin and into your veins. “Look at me, c’mon.”

He smacks the side of your breast, watching as the round flesh ripples under his ministrations. He breathes heavy, his chest inflating rapidly as his hips drill mercilessly into you. You clamp around him, quietly pleading with him to stay buried to the hilt so you.

When you don’t respond by turning your head, Midoriya grabs you by the cheeks, dominantly forcing your vision back to him. He’s almost regretful when you whimper, a shining trail of drool spilling from your mouth to pool into the pillowcase. The damp spot draws his attention and his cock twitches within your pussy, brushing up into your cervix and making you cry out, throat so hoarse that your voice cracks.

Izuku blinks hard, pulling his eyes away from the dark circle on the pillow to focus on your face, slipping his thumb into your mouth to press down on the center of your tongue. He smirks, his free hand holding you by the ass now, digging blunt nails into your flesh to create a conduit for his electricity to flow straight to your backside.

You whimper around his digit, the sound muffled by his finger, “G-Gonna come, Daddy.”

“Are you now?” he asks proudly, tilting his head to consider you. “Did I say you could come?”

You’re shaking your head as he grabs your ass harder, bringing tears to your eyes at the immense pressure combined with the raw feeling from his spankings earlier. As if to challenge you, Deku starts jutting forward, driving your hips deeper into the mattress until you feel like you might fall through.

The use of his quirk makes him so much stronger, his corded body trying to restrain from using its full power on you, despite calling all of it forward. He grits his teeth down so hard that you think you hear his jaw creaking, but you hardly have time to notice before you’re having to ward off your own pleasure. Using every ounce of One for All, Izuku bruises your cervix with the engorged head of his cock, the quirk enlarging every part of him.

You beg him with blurred words and hazy vision, whining and keening, until he’s leaning down close to your face, his hand now moved from your mouth to your throat, wet fingers wrapped around your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs with his nose against your cheek, lips dancing along your jawline to place feather light kisses, much in contrast to the otherwise bludgeoning intensity of the rest of his ministrations. “Such a pretty little thing.”

Your eyes find his face as he leans back to look down at you, the freckles dusted over his cheeks stark beneath his bright red streaks symbolizing the use of his quirk. You reach upward to tuck your palm against his cheek, cupping the skin burning hot with the coursing energy of his power. Your thumb brushes over the roundest part of his face and his eyes shudder closed at the feeling.

He kisses your wrist, bottoming out into your cunt with a harsh thrust forward. Deku turns his gaze to you, electric irises finding your soul through way of your pupils, “You gonna come when I tell you?”

“Yes, yes,” you’re practically foaming at the mouth, little spit bubbles at the corners of your lips at the thought of coming around his cock, your arousal mixed with his seed as he fills your core with his come. “Please, Daddy, I wanna come for you.”

Izuku nods, kissing your wrist again before falling back on his thick legs to grab you by the thighs, lifting you up off the mattress. It is just a display of his strength, his biceps bulging with effort, but it does what he intends for it to do when he feels your dripping arousal slipping from your slit down to drip onto the mattress.

“Fuck, look at your sloppy little pussy, Princess,” Deku moans at the sight of your silvery slick pouring out of you. He runs his thumb against the curve of your backside to catch what he can, running it over your clit before sucking his digit between his teeth.

Using his damp fingertip, Izuku begins to work at your clit, his other hand still pinning your thighs up in midair. He licks his lips at the sight of you on the cusp of pleasure, your body begging to come undone with the way your pussy clamps around his cock.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxes you with a kind voice, electric pops crackling in the air like fireworks. “Come for me.”

You quit holding back, letting your body rush with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure. Every part of you is on fire, from his touch mixed with the searing heat of his body and the green lightning that strikes your body to leave tiny pink pucker marks. The sight of you marked up by his teeth and tongue and quirk bring him to his own heightened arousal, unable to hold back when he feels you gush with come from within the confine of your walls.

The glowing iridescent light making the room fluorescent fades into the dark with every spurt of his come into your cunt until he is no longer using One for All.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek, “now let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

You’re not sure what flips the switch within you – whether it’s the tight look of his uniform showing off the peaked buds of his nipples and the engorged head of his cock, or if it’s the blush on his freckled cheeks, making him look so much younger than the twenty plus years old he is now.

Whatever it is, it makes your mouth water and your fingertips buzz.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“B-But, the pad tha-”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Izuku’s thighs spasm at the authoritative tone of your voice and suddenly he feels about two inches tall despite towering over you no matter the situation. He tucks his head downward as he walks past you, down the hall towards the bedroom the two of you now share. Usually he is the one speaking those words as he stands over the top of you, his hand stinging red from spanking your ass as he orders you around, but the way they sound from your tone of voice makes his entire body quake.

The soft click of the door as it slips shut makes goosebumps rise on his skin, the stubbled hair on the back of his neck standing as upright as possible. There is a grunt from your mouth and a shuffling of your feet on the carpet as you kick off your shoes.

“B-Baby, I-”

Somehow you have shoved your foot into the crook of his knee, toppling him over onto the bed so he’s face first into the mattress, his ass perked upward as he tries to balance himself so he does not fall over. The globes of his backside are stretched tight within the spandex of his uniform, and you know the beautiful expanses of freckled skin that lay beneath the material.

Izuku looks over his shoulder, attempting to protest or ask you what is wrong, but you don’t want to hear it, so you lean forward and press your palm against his cheek, “You don’t speak unless spoken to, do you understand?”

He’s whimpering under your harsh touch, but the way his pupils dilate tells you that he’s enjoying it at least enough to test it out. You shove yourself backward, centered between his ass cheeks as your knees dig into the edge of the mattress. The tips of your fingernails run over the plush flesh of his backside, digging in to make him gasp and writhe beneath you.

Your heart hammers in your chest at seeing the up and coming Pro Hero wriggling like a frightened animal under your ministrations, and you’ve barely laid a hand on him yet. You run your knuckle up his spine, “Take your top off.”

The way he balances his head on the mattress and grapples with his shirt in an attempt to take it off is almost comical, so you crack a smile, thankful that he can’t see you. You lick your lips and drag your hand back down his back to rest at the base of his spine as he scrambles to take the shirt off, but he’s too flustered and it ends up bunched up around his neck and shoulders.

Finally, he gets so frustrated that he rips the fabric in half, shreds of thread falling against his skin and the sheets. You feel heat flood to your core, your spine white hot within your body, the tingles of heat spreading from the center of you outward until your fingertips and toes are blazing with fire.

You hum in appreciation at the sight of his rippling shoulders and trap muscles, his body shifting to dip back into the mattress, balancing all of his weight on his forearms as he leans forward. Your touch drifts from his shoulders to his obliques, the bumps of muscle corded beneath your digits. You watch as his body ripples with a shiver, every one of his muscles tensing as your fingers pad over his freckles, finding patches of darker skin to administer affection to.

It must be the pure anticipation that has his frame tense and quivering, the smallest of muscles twitching as you work your hands around his body. You settle your palms at his hips, flattening your hand against the expanse of skin at the center of his torso, “Baby, relax.”

You lean forward and kiss the dense smattering of freckles between his shoulder blades, “Now be a good little hero and take off your pants.”

The way you say it sends another wave of pleasure straight to his cock, the already throbbing organ about ready to bust from arousal and you haven’t even disrobed him yet.

Your feet pad against the carpet as you find your way to the edge of the bed, stripping out of your outerwear until you’re left in only a dark lace set, the filigree bringing out the beauty of your skin. Izuku goes dumb at the sight, turning his head just enough to get an eyeful of your chest area. His eyes about bug out of his head, wide and blown with lust as his tongue lolls over his lips, dripping a silvery string of drool onto the bed sheets.

“C’mon, Deku,” you force the word to come out in a patronizing tone, “strip for me.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing, but somehow manages to push through the aroused haze clouding his judgment to wriggle himself out of his tight-fitting hero suit. The bright green fabric is left in a pool on the floor, tattered clothes just the start of your destruction.

The head of his cock is bright red and there is a part of you that falters, wanting to beg him to take control and absolutely demolish your pussy with his harsh, controlling movements and his filthy mouth. It lasts but a moment, and yet he can still see it. There is a shift in his eyes, the way he considers you, and he leans forward to say something, but you’re grabbing him by the face, cheeks between your fingers, before he can speak.

“Roll over.”

Izuku does as told with little hesitation, flopping his shoulders around so his ass is once again in the air, primes and ready for your palm to lavish with spankings. Your breath shudders from your lungs and you lock your thighs in place by tensing them, centering yourself between his knees. The balls of his heels come into contact with your hips as he sways slightly, his mind dizzy from the promise of pleasure.

“How many?” you ask, your voice low and sultry, surprising even you with the depth of it.

A choking noise can be heard, but it’s muffled by the pillow. You chuckle, patting his ass prospectively, feeling the flesh ripple beneath your complacent prodding. Dipping forward, your chest falls flush with his back as you press feathery kisses over his midsection, finding the freckles like little gold pieces, adding each one to your treasure chest as you kiss it.

Izuku manages to spit out a number, something reasonable, and so you add a few more on top of it in your mind, smirking even though he cannot see you. You run the pads of your fingers down from the tops of his shoulders to the globes of his ass, the perky, round muscles making your stomach flip. You can’t wait to see the way his bruised ass mixed with the dark brown freckles of his skin – how beautiful the colors will be, how it might actually look more like a galaxy with shades of purple and blue as an accent to the brunette freckles dotting his skin like the night sky currently.

You reach your hands back and start to lay into him, counting the spankings in your head without keeping track of them aloud. You stop after you’re satisfied with his whimpering cries, his face buried deeper into the pillow with each endearing smack.

An errant thought crosses your mind and you can’t help but to dwell on it. If Izuku is already blubbering, how much farther can you take this before he’s crying into the pillow? The idea that you can bring one of the strongest men in the world to tears sets off a string of dynamite in your heart, the fuse triggering something akin to pride in your chest. You feel your whole body swell at the thought and you know that you must make it a reality tonight.

“How many was that?” you ask patronizingly, digging your nails into his ass to hear him squeak.

Your hands are already raw, burning at the feel of slapping his muscled backside repeatedly. Still, you knead your hands into him to elicit a pained whine. He writhes under you, his hands curling around the sheets until they’re beginning to rip under his tight grip.

“I-I dunno,” he blurts, a curt sob breaking his words. “I’m sorry!”

You chuckle and it comes out much darker than you originally intended. You release his ass, the thick of it jiggling as you let go. The pads of your fingers are gentle as you wash your touch over him, appreciating the way the redness of his freshly spanked cheeks brings out the deep color of his freckles, the splotches even more prevalent now that his body has been momentarily abused.

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry, baby,” you kiss each of his ass cheeks, flicking your tongue out to tease the heated skin, “you better start counting.”

Just as you punctuate your sentence with a sigh, your hands begin to strike him repeatedly. You struggle to keep count, desperately wanting to listen to his moans and whimpers as he gasps, mewling with both pain and pleasure as you lay into his backside. Midoriya is already misty-eyed, the feel of your domineering touch just enough to bring him to a subservient headspace, his spirit wallowing in the pain that your hands are doling out.

You barely have time to stop before he’s blurting out the number that matches the one you’ve counted. You smirk, leaning forward so your nipples scrape against his skin, “Good job, baby.”

The heels of your palms are what is stinging the most, so you can only imagine how his ass feels. You have a momentary relapse in thought, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, if maybe you’re going to push him to an edge he can’t come back from.

Although, when too much silence has passed and he is turning to gaze up at you over his shoulder, every inhibition you have flies directly out of the room through the crack in the door. His eyes are blitzed, lust making his pupils swallow the color of his irises, forehead crinkled in desperation as he attempts to form words to beg you back to him.

You rub at the pert skin, brushing your thumbs over the smattering of freckles on the roundest parts of his ass. Deku is whimpering beneath you, calf muscles fully flexed as he rocks back and forth in anticipation of your next slap.

“Such a good little hero,” you murmur, massaging your hands into his glute muscles. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Izuku whines, toes curling up beside your hips. He huffs but you can’t see his face to notice how fucked-out his eyes have become. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of his ass, and he preens, eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sudden stinging sensation.

You answer him with a resounding smack on his backside, making sure that your fingertips are curved just right, along with your palm, to make it sound much worse than it truly is, praying that you can manipulate his mind into believing that you’ve marked him for longer than a few moments.

The way the freckles on his skin trail from the top of his body to the bottom is nothing short of enticing. It brings about a certain innocence to him, something hidden that only you are allowed to know of. Your eyes can’t stop trying to put together a map of his body, begging to know just where the freckles begin and end. He is littered with them, his body darkening from time spent in the sun.

“P-Please,” his whole body is convulsing in pleasure. You can see his cock throbbing between his thighs and the mattress, his balls weighty with the impending excitement of his release. The bedsheet have a damp spot near the tip of his cock, most likely from his pre dripping at the sudden shakes of his body from your spankings, “I-I want more, Princess. Please!”

You smirk, hand hot from repeated spankings, “What’s your number?”

Deku pants, digging his nose into the mattress as if that might save him from having to answer. His hands are clamped around the sheets, nails threatening to rip into the thread count mercilessly, “I-I dunno, I don’t know!”

Your hand comes down over his ass repeatedly, unrelenting in your ministrations as you mark his backside bright red. You know that there will be little busted blood vessels to mix along with his freckled skin, purple lightning strikes that serve as a reminder to the way you broke down his resolve and conquered his body.

“P-Princess,” he whines, voice cracking in the midst of his sentence as he tries to beg for repentance, “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You curve your fingernails into his skin, uncaring to the way his body fully tenses, dips and curves of muscle and sinew on full display as he lays completely bare against the mattress. You want to strew yourself across him to feel the ripples of his muscles as he tenses under your touch, to know the reactions of his body as they are happening firsthand. A chill tremors down your spine at the thought of him, all dense and thick beneath you, and how you have complete and utter control over him. You hold his pleasure in your hands, he’s entrusted himself to you in this very vulnerable situation, and the reality of it almost brings tears to your eyes.

Instead you focus your energy into snarling around your teeth, sneering his name like slander, “C’mon, Deku, be a good little bitch and tell me what you think you can handle.”

He is verbally silent, the only thing you can make out from his face smushed into the sheets is mewling whimpers to match the way his body quivers. You teasingly stroke your thumbnail over the blushed skin of his backside, bouncing your touch from freckle-to-freckle as you scrape your nails into him.

Another couple of seconds pass by before you snatch your hand from his ass so you can slap him again when he spurts out an answer, “Th-Thirty!”

“Fifty it is,” you chuff, digging your fingertips into his buttocks in a massaging motion, preparing him for the next round of spankings. He pants, rutting his hips forward into the mattress for some sort of friction against his throbbing erection, balls weighty with his release as they slap between his legs.

You tap his hip, letting him know that you want him to readjust himself. Izuku bends at the waist, seething as the bruised skin of his bottom stretches with the motion. You resituate yourself between his knees, ass directly in front of your face. A gentle kiss is pressed to either of his cheeks, eyelashes daintily brushing over his throbbing flesh, and he jolts his hips back into you until your teeth graze his skin.

“Eager little thing,” you tut your tongue, grabbing him harshly by the hips.

You selfishly want to mark him up, to remind the world that he belongs to you no matter how much of himself he gives away every other moment of his life. When the sun goes down, when the bright sky bleeds into the night, he comes home to you and the both of you fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in one another’s arms.

Izuku’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, sweat dripping down his spine as you press up into him, “Such a slut for me, huh, honey?”

The next time he backs into you, you pinch his ass between your fingers on one side and on the other cheek you bite down hard into his skin. Midoriya bucks forward at the sudden jolt of pain, only worsening the scratches left behind by your canines. He grinds his face into the mattress, pressing the mix of his tears and sweat into the sheets, begging for a cool release from the heat of his body as he searches for it in the mattress. You swear that he sobs into the pillow, begging you for something, but you can’t quite make out all of the syllables.

You line up behind him, your lower abdomen flush with his round, freckled bottom, “You ready, baby?”

“Princess, please,” his voice is hoarse now, all jagged around the edges as he begs you for more, “I-I want you to be rough with me, please? I wan’ you to mark me up.”

On command, your fingernails dig into the flesh at the curves of his shoulders, raking down the length of his back in one elongated swoop. He cries out, throwing his head back so his green curls brush the piques of his shoulders, and he grinds his hips back into you. You can’t help the low growl that claws at your throat as you trail your index finger down over the ghostly sight that your nails have left behind. He seethes through his teeth at the burning sensation lighting his back on fire, but he still does not complain.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you handled, okay?” Your hands find purchase on the curves of his obliques, fingernails burrowing into the taut skin of his abdomen, crescent moon patterns left in the wake of you. “I’m gonna make sure all the other heroes know who you belong to.”

Your name bubbles from his lips, a prayer he’s pushing to the heavens, blessing the stars with his babbling. In the midst of one of his mutterings, you begin your next round of pert spanks to his ass. You give him little reprieve, counting in your head as you go along.

He’s a blubbering mess, all mismatched syllables and grunts and moans tearing his throat apart until he’s crying for you to mark him as yours, to claim him in a way that leaves no question as to who he belongs to. The echoes of please, please, please bounce off every wall, a cacophony of sound making the hair on your neck stand erect.

When you finish, your hands are stinging profusely, but you make sure to soothe your palms over his bottom, the flesh bright red and angry. His freckles look even darker now that his skin has been accented with the beginnings of purple bruises and crimson handprints left behind. You coo, leaning forward to kiss the center of his back, pressing your body into him so you’re flush with every inch of him that you can find, “What do you say, pretty boy?”

When Midoriya turns to look at you over his shoulder, his eyes blissed-out so his pupils swallow his viridescent irises whole, he gargles the words, “thank you,” in a cracked whisper. You nod, trailing a row over kisses down the dip of his spine, nudging your nose over his muscled body, silently telling him to relax.

“You want more?” you ask him quietly, your hands digging into any surface of him that you can find to try and release some of the tension built up from the time spent together. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Please, Princess, please,” he’s blubbering out the words, thick and heavy with the emotion pent-up in his throat, “I just wan’ be good for you, whatever you want.”

You tilt your head, brows furrowing in playful contemplation, “Whatever I want, huh?”

He’s nodding ferociously, his chin knocking into his chest with his enthusiastic actions. You know part of it is to make up for the lack of words that he can’t force through his teeth, so you merely chuckle and give him one final spank to his backside, “Roll over then.”

The speed with which he fumbles into rolling over onto his back is comical. You watch as a flurry of limbs wind together only to come apart again when he’s on his back. Izuku is wincing, the glassiness in his eyes reminiscent of tears and he’s trying his hardest to come across like he’s not in pain, although you see the way that he favors putting more of his weight on his shoulders instead of his ass so he’s bent at an odd angle.

“Whatever you want,” he is gasping the words out, puffs of exaggerated but necessary breath forcing his cheeks to inflate. “I’m yours.”

The words make your whole body puff up, heat starting in your core and creating steam that rises from your esophagus to your brain. It becomes muddled and you’re hazy now, drunk off of the power that he has given you with those five words. You reach forward and slide your thumb against his piqued nipple, licking your lips as you think of what you’re going to do to him not that you have him to use however you please.

“All mine?” you ask, your voice grating against the front of your throat harshly. You hum, “What do you want me to do to you then, baby?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose now, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, “I w-want you to use me, please, Princess, want you to use my pathetic cock to make yourself feel good.”

You reach forward and guide his scarred hand towards your cunt, “Touch me.”

Izuku is eager to please, so he’s fumbling forward until his thumb finds your clit, ministrations errant and disastrous. It’s adorable, really, the enthusiasm with which he seeks you out only doing further service to your ego. You feel your head grow dizzier as your core turns with tumultuous heat. You know that you do not want to drag this out too far as you already can feel the twitch of an impending crest of pleasure building from within you.

His thick finger slides up into your heated core and it takes all of your self-restraint to keep your moans between your teeth, holding the sounds captive like they might tell all of your secrets if you let them loose. You bite your lip, sucking the skin into the bite of your teeth, tilting your head back so you can close your eyes and enjoy the pleasure as it comes.

“Maybe if you touch me just right, I’ll let you feel my pussy on your cock, huh?” You have to face him, have to see his reaction, “How does that sound?”

Midoriya is bobbing his head, agreeing to whatever words you’re speaking, he can’t quite make out any one syllable with the way his brain is drowning with the sight of you straddling him. He’s not sure what it is about you, but he absolutely adores the idea of you holding your own against him, wrapping your body around him and denying him of whatever control he normally possesses.

And maybe that is what gets you wet too, because you know that he could fling you off of him with a simple flick of his wrist, and yet here he is, letting you demolish every last shred of his self-respect.

You can’t help it, with the way he’s already beginning to drool and the sight of his eyes drinking in your semi-naked body, you have to feel the soft heat of his mouth around your fingers. It is too quick, the way you jolt forward and press the pads of your digits against his soft mouth. He moans, realizing just what you’re trying to do because he’s done it countless times himself, and opens his mouth wide.

Your fingers slip inside the seeping heat of his tongue and cheeks, the muscle lapping at your digits until they’re soaked and knuckle deep. You lean down so you are but inches from his face, the squelching sounds that your pussy and his mouth make together doing little to still the erection pressed against your ass from behind and the absolute waterfall between your thighs.

Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to sink down on top of his twitching cock and let him have his way with you, to rock yourself along his length until you’re both finding that beautiful high together. But you know that if you wait, if you drag this out and force him to bend to your will, then it will bring you both to your knees.

“So pretty with my fingers in your mouth, Izu,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He attempts feebly to kiss you, turning his head, but your fingers catch on the corners of his lips and stretch the pink skin until it is pale. Your eyes flicker toward the bow of his mouth where a thin, white scar resides. You remember seeing this one when you first kissed him, and the memory of it makes you nostalgic, the years you’ve spent together built up much like his scars.

You lick a warm stripe up the column of his neck, feeling the muscles and veins throb underneath your ministrations. The heat of your breath combined with the slick of your spit makes Deku’s hips jut upward, his balls slapping loudly against your ass as he ruts into you painfully.

“Did I say you could move?” You are leant back now, your fingers still in his mouth but otherwise you are parted from him. Deku’s face pales, eyes widening in fear as he shakes his head, apologies tumbling in tandem with his spit from his lips, drool seeping down his chin until it is shiny.

The heel of your palm comes underneath his chin, so you have your hand wrapped around the lower part of his mouth, controlling his head with the simple turn of your wrist. You tilt his head upward so he can no longer see you, and pick up your hips to reposition yourself so you are hovering above him, just enough so you can start to tease the head of his cock against your slick slit.

He’s whimpering, “Please, Princess. I wanna touch you so bad, please, I wanna make you feel good.”

You let him beg for you, pumping your hand up and down his cock while you brush the angry red head over the gathering silver slick at your entrance.  You chuckle as his hips shuffle in the slightest, his discomfort obvious as he is practically vibrating with the desire to take over.

“What is it, baby? Eager?” You sink yourself down far enough to take the head of his cock within your walls, clamping down hard enough to make him whine. “I can’t wait to fuck myself on this pathetic little cock, Izu. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll have to call in sick tomorrow.”

Another round of blathering drivel is boasted into the air, his words muffled by your fingers, but he still forces them out, nonetheless. His tongue continues to curl around your knuckles and lavish the pads of your digits, sucking on them in between heaving breaths. You let a small moan shake your throat, rolling your hips forward to take another bit of his dick but not all of it, not yet. The enjoyment you’re getting from his stuttering whimpers and moans only heightening your senses and arousal.

“Princess, please, I-I think I’m gonna-” An aborted rut of his hips dies when you rake your nails down the entirety of his chest. Your fingers catch on the rigid edges of some of his scars, but otherwise you turn lines of his tanned flesh red from your scratching.

Izuku whimpers, his body arching upward as he tries to take it all in stride. In doing so, he sheathes his cock completely within you, the base of his shaft now flush with your lips. You cry out at the sudden stretch, throwing your head back in pleasure as a wave of white-hot arousal makes your thighs glossy with a new wash of slick.

When you come to, you lean forward to place a palm on either side of his head, holding yourself up so you are loitering over him like a shadow, praying that you are as every bit as menacing as you’re attempting to be. You grit your teeth and roll your hips several times, unbending to even his hands on your body, relentlessly fucking his cock until he’s screaming for you to stop.

“C’mon, little hero, I thought you’d be better than this,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug, “I thought you’d have more will power. You’ll never be number one if you can’t even last this long beneath me.”

Izuku shakes his head, “I-I can, I can do it, I-I promise. Please, just let-”

“I don’t think you understand,” your voice is low, menacing as you nudge your nose against the bridge of his face, nuzzling the freckled skin. The intimate act is far more tender than your tone, and it gives Izuku chills that you can display such dual sides of yourself simultaneously. “I’m not letting you do anything.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that there is nothing that he can do to change your mind, at least not in this setting. Deku’s hands still on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circular motions into your skin in a way that seems to be grounding him as much as it is stimulating you. You press a chaste kiss to his mouth before beginning to snap your hips upward and then back down onto his cock, clamping your walls around him when you feel the head of him press into that spongy spot hidden all the way in the back of your core.

You kiss all over his neck, finding clumps of freckles and stranded singular ones, lavishing the same amount of affection over each of them. Your mouth finds scars, both tiny, hairline fractures in the marble of his skin, as well as large, patchy ones that mar large splotches of his skin.

Even in these moments when you are the one doling out commands, you still find ways to appreciate his body. Your touch roams along the dips and contours of his torso, the rough ridges of your fingerprints searching for the matching ragged lines on his skin. You sigh into his throat and he slips a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, begging for you to come undone around his cock, praying that you’ll let him please you.

One of your hands wraps around his throat until you hear him choke, and then you speed up the pace of your hips until he’s begging through wheezes for you to relent. You lean back and he hikes up his legs so you can rest against his thighs, your body on full display in front of him. His eyes do not know where to land and neither do yours as you map out the various textures and colors of his skin – from the pale lightning strikes of his scars to the darker scattered splotches of freckles.

Izuku Midoriya is a vessel for the travesties of the world.

But you will spend the rest of your life trying to make up for its mistakes.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

One day it slips.

You don’t think much of it, because in the heat of the moment, with him buried at the hilt and you crying for release, the words don’t stick out very starkly against the other filth spewing from either of your mouths.

“Gonna stuff that pretty pussy full of my come, baby,” he bites your earlobe as he ruts into you mercilessly, “You’re gonna be so round and full of me.”

At the time, you thought he meant that you would be full of his cock and come, but after he starts to show particular attention to your stomach during sex, you wonder if there’s something else going on.

When he has you beneath him the next time, you drag his palm to your belly and look him in the eyes, “I want you.”

His freckles burn beneath his blush, much starker against his tanned skin thanks to the flush of warmth. Izuku tilts his head, the dark curls framing his forehead bobbing with the motion, “You have me, baby.”

You shake your head and whine at the lack of contact once he’s stilled. You bite your lip and push the heel of his palm into the gentle swell of your belly beneath your navel. He swallows, gulping so hard that his throat bobs. You lick your lips and take a short breath as he shifts above you, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of your body.

“I want you to come in me,” you murmur, tugging him downward with the gentle grip of your hand on his neck. You kiss him square on the mouth and his fingers reach to find your folds, middle and index finger parting you so they can slip inside to curl against your heat. You whine, the sound amplified as his tongue searches your teeth, “P-Please, Izu.”

Midoriya’s fingers thrust forward in you so intensely that he can feel his fingertips bulging your belly with the palm that’s pressed against your navel. His eyes widen at the sensation and it only spurs him into kissing you more fervently, teeth and tongue clashing as he tries to overwhelm every sense you possess.

You protest as he pulls his fingers from you, your eyes screwed shut as you whine. He tuts his tongue against his teeth, nudging his nose along the curve of your jaw as he places biting kisses along the bone, “Hush. Do you really think I won’t give you what you need?”

The authoritative tone in his voice brings you to silence, eyelids fluttering open so you can look him in the eyes as he leans back to balance himself on his thick thighs. Your touch is pulled from him as he goes further away, your fingers aching in midair for something to ground yourself with. Otherwise you just feel like you’re going to float away, your mind hazy with the effervescent bubbles of euphoria that travel up from your throat.

Before you have another moment to keen at the loss of his heat, he’s piercing your pussy with the head of his cock, butterflying your lips wide open so he can rut up into you with ease. The combination of his bubbling pre-come and your already slick arousal dripping from your cunt make the slam of his hips easier to take, easier to beg for.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Izuku coos in your ear, dropping his head to your shoulder to suck on the skin of your collarbone.

The jut of his cockhead into your core makes it difficult to think, let alone form fully coherent sentences. Izuku seems to relish in this, though, because he does not slow the drag of his cock or the flow of his words. He continues to goad you into begging for his release, for what you truly want, and it’s maddening. Your eyes cross beneath your lids at the overstimulation of it all until you’re blurting out the first thing on your mind.

“I wan’ you to breed me, Daddy!”

Izuku falters for a moment at the brashness of your words, but you barely have time to feel bashful before he’s rolling his hips again, growling near your ear with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him before.

“That’s my good girl,” he mutters while trailing his lips down to your breast. He lavishes your nipple with the rough pad of his tongue, lapping over the skin carefully so you’re begging him for more. “How am I supposed to breed you, honey? Tell me.”

The patronizing tone of his voice tells you that he knows exactly what you want, but he would rather hear the request coming in the form of panting words and wanton moans from your lips. You sniffle, your eyes watering at the bruising pace he’s setting. His hands drift down the tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing against the innermost part where your skin is the most sensitive. Your cunt clamps down around him, fluttering at the ghostly feel of his tantalizing touch.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unable to think of something to say to fill the void. You bite your lip as his mouth works at your chest, tonguing your nipple before biting at the mound of skin to drive a yelp from your lips. “I want you to c-come in me, Daddy! I want you to stuff me full o-of your come, please!”

He pouts around your nipple, leaving the small space he’s just sucked a hickey into in favor of your pert bud, “I already come in you, baby girl, what do you really want me to do?”

You bite your lip and fist the sheets at your sides when you feel frustration and embarrassment wash over you. Izuku nudges his nose along the swell of your chest before leaning up to kiss your chin, hovering like a menacing shadow. His smile does little to quell the bubbling intensity in your belly.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” he’s gentler now, breaking his more dominating side so he can reassure you, “I know you can. Just tell me what you want.”

The shining in his irises makes your knees weak but bolsters your spine to force you into uttering the next words, no matter how uncomfortable they might sit in your belly. You take a breath and look up into his eyes, “I want you to put a baby in me, Izu.”

“Good girl,” he manages to muster out the words with restraining the growl that aches at the back of his throat.

His hips cant forward, fingertips now just under your knees. Your breath comes in shaking pants, your chest shuddering under your confession. Izuku kisses your cheek and then your nose, positioning his hands while he has you distracted. His mouth ascends down upon your own as his fingers dip into the supple skin and muscle of your thighs, bruising the underside with the ghost of his fingerprints as he pushes your knees back until they’re almost touching your chest or the mattress.

You gulp in pain as his cock stretches you out in a whole new way with your body flayed out like this. You look like a butterfly, your wings spread so he can smother you with his movements. Deku licks at the seam of your lips and you gasp, your mouth parting so he can delve his tongue inside. Your whole body shakes at the intensity of his thrusts, your irises swallowed whole by your pupils as they dilate at the feel of your cunt trying and failing to clamp around his cock to keep him still so you can adjust.

“Say it again,” Deku encourages you, his voice breathless as he ruts you into the mattress.

Your shoulders and the curve of your ass are pressed so deep into the cushion that you swear you might fall through to the floor. You curl your toes and try to angle your hips forward to no avail. He has you fully enraptured in the way he wants, his body practically controlling the movements you’re allowed to make with how he’s pressed and holding onto every part of you.

“I-I want you to put a baby in me, Izuku,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

A pert slap lands on the outside of your thigh and you whimper at the thought you’ve done something wrong. Your eyes water and you look up at him, emerald irises glowering down at you with a mix of primal need and control.

His voice is nothing short of a growl when he commands, “Who am I?”

Your eyes go wide, forehead creasing at the realization of your slip up. You can’t form the words fast enough, scrambling within your subservient brain to find the right phrase. You bite your lip as his hips still upon your silence, practically begging him with your body to keep going.

The echo of another smacking of his palm against your leg resounds in the room, sending a shudder down your spine. A new wave of arousal coats his cock from where he’s buried within you. He smirks, “Such a sloppy pussy, baby girl. You’re so filthy, getting off on me smacking you around.”

He leans close into you, removing one hand from your thigh to frame your face, his thumb dug into the soft flesh beneath your chin so he can force you to look into his eyes. “Now, I’ll say it again, who am I?”

You gulp, your lower lip trembling at the sight of him, and your voice cracks when you speak, “D-Daddy, I-I’m sorry.”

Izuku kisses your bottom lip before showing the same affection to the top. His gentle ministrations are rather contrasting to the way your hips sting with the memory of his spankings. You blink slowly, taking him in from this close angle.

He’s so pretty, you know this even though your mind is hazy with subservient want. His freckles and scars stand out so pertly against his skin, showing you a roadmap to someplace you know you’ll get to someday. You reach up to frame his face with one hand, thumb brushing over the speckled spots along the bridge of his nose and cheek, marveling at the sight of his beauty.

Deku turns his face to kiss your wrist, “What’re you thinking?”

“You’re pretty,” you blurt, voice almost childish in the way you say it with such wonder.

The phrase stills his nose against your palm, his breath hot as it rolls down your wrist and forearm. You feel your pulse beat harshly within your veins at the change in temperature, emotion swelling in your throat until your neck bobs as you try to swallow it.

It’s not the stereotypical compliment that he might receive, however that does not change its weight. Izuku takes a short breath before he begins to kiss down the length of your arm, nuzzling your elbow once he’s pressed there. He looks up into your eyes and the absolute adoration that is settled into your irises, bejeweling them until he is wondering if they might actually be gems, gives him the effervescent sensation all over again.

Pretty.

The word plays on loop in his mind, until he has dissected all six letters of it down to their very essence. The combination of your tone and expression as you admit what’s truly on your mind causes his heart to tear into his rib cage with the speed at which it beats. He breathes in short, heaving gasps, the warmth of his breath spilling over your chest, nipples pebbling beneath him.

If you were to try and pin down his appearance, you might say it were bashful. You have seen several sides to Izuku, but the bright red tinge on his cheeks, creeping up his neck until his ears are burnt with the color, makes him seem much younger, much more innocent. It’s hardly innocent, the way that he’s bludgeoning your cunt with his cock, but you take this moment to remove yourself from that fact entirely, instead focusing on the wobble of his chin and the mist in his eyes.

In addition to the shyness, you also see doubt, conflict.

You push your fingers into the hair behind his ear, beckoning him closer so you can appreciate him closer. Your opposite hand presses against his cheek, the scar that runs along his jaw ragged under your touch. Midoriya’s lips part, the tip of his tongue hidden just behind his teeth.

“Pretty,” he echoes the word, unintentionally, you believe, by the way his face screws up once he realizes he’s said it aloud. Midoriya reels back from you, sitting back on his thighs, the tip of his cock twitching from within your core.

Your face goes bright red at the admission, your hand falling away from his face in shame. You gulp, readying yourself for another smack to your leg in admonishment at your confession. You wince, hiding yourself as best you can with him looking down at you in such an intimidating way by turning your face into the pillow, closing your eyes.

The wait feels like forever, as if he’s going to edge you with anticipation until you’ve gone blue in the face from holding your own breath. He surprises you with a gentle laugh parting his lips, screwing his eyes shut.

You take a chance and open your eyes, blinking slowly so you aren’t shocked at the expression on his face if it contrasts the giggle that sets off another round of arousal between your thighs. You lick your lips and bare your soul when you ask, “Y-You’re laughing?”

“You’re so cute, baby,” Izuku kisses your nose, his grip resetting to your thigh.

The bruising hold he has on you reminds you that even though he might come across as twinkling eyes and a mop of curls, he is the strongest hero alive, and he could crush you like a bug if he truly desired.

He tilts his head, “I think you’re pretty too.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

Izuku furrows his brow and leans back so he can study your face in its entirety, “No, Princess, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I-I just ruined the mood by calling you pretty,” you have the urge to ask him to put his fingers in your mouth just to get you to be quiet. Anything to staunch the flow of these ­superfluous words that won’t stop tumbling from your lips.

His thumb brushes along the curve of your jaw until his fingertip is pressuring your lip to stay open so he can study your teeth and gums, “Nah, you didn’t ruin the mood. Answer me this – who do you belong to?”

Instantly your thighs try to clamp together, knees wobbling at the statement and the firmness in his tone when he says it. You swallow, eyes blown wide, your tongue suddenly becoming very heavy in your own mouth. You want to whine, to cant forward and take as much of him as you can but he has you held still with a palm in the center of your chest, pinning you to the mattress as he waits for his answer.

Your hand covers his own, fingers slipping between his palm and knuckles so you can anchor yourself to him, even in this moment. Your middle and index fingers swipe back and forth over the back of his hand, finding the familiar triangular scars and tracing over them with purpose. They ground you, somehow, when your mind starts to flutter off into this subservient space and you can’t feel anything from your knees down.

“Y-You,” you manage to stutter, thighs wobbling with the stress of pinning him between your knees. Your eyelids prick with tears from the embarrassment you felt earlier, and Izuku tuts his tongue against his teeth, “Why’re you crying, pretty girl?”

You shake your head and he kneels forward to kiss you on the lips, chastely, “Or should I give you something to cry about?”

Before you can answer, he simultaneously lands a harsh slap to the inside of your thigh with one hand while pinning your neck to the pillow with the other, applying enough pressure that you wheeze. Izuku smirks down at you, watching as tears well up in your eyes and cause them to look like glassy marbles. He trails his fingertip along the inside of your thigh, your entire body quivering with the anticipation of when he will strike next.

His cock twitches within you and the movement makes your muscles jolt. Your hand smacks against his thigh as you dig your fingertips into the dense sinew. You breathe in heavily, your chest expanding, “Daddy, please.”

Izuku begins to rock back and forth slowly, dragging his cock salaciously along your inner walls, the veins and curves of his cock making your cunt flutter around his girth. You whine at the slow pace, your palms studying his skin as a distraction to keep your dirty mouth satiated. You want to beg him to go faster, to give you more friction, something, but you know better than to ask him for anything in this moment.

“If I’m Daddy,” he muses in your ear, his breath a hot wave of desire as it rolls down your neck to splay out at your shoulder, “then it’s only fair that we give you a name too, right, Princess?”

The suggestion he’s making sends a shiver down your spine and you clamp down on his cock as he slips all the way into you, the base of him flush with your lips. You grapple onto him for fear that he might pull out of you again, but you want him to be fully sheathed in you when he snarls out his next words.

In digging your nails into his skin, you find a new scar on his shoulder that you hadn’t noticed before. It is thin, just slight enough that it slipped from your radar. It is a single ridge of skin running from the back of his shoulder to his collarbone, streaking his skin with a pink color in contrast to his normally tan color. Your middle and index fingers focus on it, mapping out each bump like your life depends on it.

As his body tilts forward, your eyes catch along a patch of intense freckles at the tops of his shoulders, where the sun shines most concentrated. Your exhale, eyelids fluttering as you feel his weight press down into you the closer he comes. The palm of your hand travels to this smattering of freckles, digging into his muscles in a massaging way as you force your touch downward. Izuku’s breath hitches as you circle the pad of your middle finger tenderly over the flesh, eyelids snapping open so he can look down at you in something akin to shock.

He melts into your touch when your ankle digs into the dimples at the base of his back, yet another scar providing friction against your skin. You whimper as his hips buck forward on instinct alone, the pressure of your body pulling him forward.

Midoriya nudges his nose sweetly along the column of your throat, open-mouthed kisses placed against your main vein that leads him to your heart. He breathes slowly over your chest, nipping at the skin closest to your nipple, but far enough away that he won’t hurt you if he bites down too hard.

“Mm,” he hums as he dips his head further, curling his spine so he can kiss the top of your belly, above your navel. His palm pushes into the supple skin, thumb drifting over where your uterus sits beneath your skin, “I can’t wait to fuck you ‘till you’re full of me, Princess. Isn’t that what you want?”

You’re begging him silently with ferocious nods, dipping the pads of your fingers into his shoulder blades to pull him closer once more so he can rut into you with his strong hips. You feel the head of his cock brush against you from the inside, and that along with the added pressure of his palm pushing into you, makes you keen loudly, a whine rippling through your lungs.

At that sound, Izuku loses any and all control he might have had on his body before, one of his hands now holding your thigh up so he can dominate you from above, your ass not even flat against the mattress anymore. It’s a good reprieve from the suffocating heat beneath your back, but the only thing you can truly focus on is the way that his hips drive into you in midair, his knees bolstering him forward to fuck into you relentlessly.

“You’ll be so fuckin’ pretty with my come dripping out of this sloppy pussy,” Izuku’s voice is slurred with pleasure, his eyes closed as he ruts into you from above. You whine, your chin ducked into your chest at this angle, but it doesn’t matter that it’s slightly uncomfortable; the only thing you can pay attention to is the way he fills you up, stretching your pussy with his thick cock.

Pulling almost all the way out only to slam into you again makes your cunt clench when he’s fully sheathed to try and keep him captive. He’s too strong, though, and he pulls away easily, the added tension only providing the both of you with further pleasure. You both whine, Izuku’s head dropping so you can no longer see his eyes, forehead covered completely by dark curls caked with sweat and sticking to his skin.

Deku licks his lips and you watch as he tilts his head to gaze down at you, the primal need to see you full giving his eyes a deeper color, a green so dark it’s almost black. The sight of him so overcome with arousal makes your stomach turn, a fresh wave of heat coating your inner walls and slipping down his cock in the form of silvery slick.

He pants, his jaw hung open, “You want me to fill you up? Come in you over and over until you can’t take it anymore, until your pretty belly is bulging with my come?”

You don’t have the chance to respond when he bottoms out within you, stretching you out even further as his cock spasms with desire. It’s like he’s growing within you even more so now that he’s imagining your tummy swollen from his come. Your jaw hangs open even as you throw your head back, your hands flying to the comforter to snag what you can beneath your fingernails.

Izuku does not waste the sight of your neck, bare and open, practically begging for him to claim as his canvas. With his next stroke he is careening forward to latch his tongue and teeth onto the sensitive skin, your jugular pulsing beneath his mouth. Your hand flies upward to tug at the wild curls near the back of his scalp, your thighs held in place by his hips as he continues into you at a steady pace.

“I can’t wait to put a baby in you, Princess,” Izuku is panting in your ear now, the lewd sounds of his hips bucking into yours the only other sound you can make out. Your shoulders shudder underneath his weight but he is holding you like an anchor, so you know that you are safe in his embrace. You turn your head, so your cheek is pressing into his, leeching the heat from his skin until your own flesh is burning.

“Fuck,” Deku laps at your throat aimlessly, as if he can’t quite get where he wants, but he doesn’t know what else to do, “Gonna fill you up every time I get the chance, breed you until you’re begging for me to stop. Pump that pretty pussy full of my come until you can’t walk straight.”

Your cunt spasms around his cock and he knows that means you’re close to coming. He’s pushed off his own release in favor of coming in tandem with you, so he starts to pump into you faster, drifting a hand down to your clit to try and stimulate you closer to the precipice of pleasure. You’re whining, nails dragging against his biceps unforgivingly, “Daddy, c’mon, I want you to come in me. Please, won’t you come in me? Fuck me full of your come, please!”

The entirety of your mouth is sandpaper dry with your insistent begging. You lick your lips at the feel of his cock spasming within your core, the tip of him brushing against your cervix in a bruising manner. “I-I wanna make you a Daddy for real, please, won’t you put a baby in me?”

A feral growl parts his lips at your request, and your body clenches from head to toe at the sound. You can’t breathe, your entire being is suffocated by the essence of him – body, mind, soul. He is everything and it covers you like a hot blanket, searing into your skin until you’re branded for him.

“You want this load?” he asks breathlessly. “Want me to breed you up good?”

He is barely able to look at you when you whimper out your response. Goosebumps cover the expanse of his body as he thinks about what you’d look like, swollen with the imminent promise of his baby growing in you. Something digs into him at the base of his spine, something that makes him ache with the need to see you waddling around, unable to see your ankles as you rest your palm on the top of your tummy. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut so he can listen to your wanton desperation, sweat making the two of you stick together at every juncture.

Deku grunts one last time before all his resolve floods from his body, “Here you go, Princess, don’t waste it.”

The angle he has your body in, folded up like a pretzel, would usually make it hard for you to waste any of it, but the sheer amount of come being pumped into you makes you nervous. You feel the familiar seeping of his seed from your cunt and you reach down to try and sop it up, but Izuku beats you to it. He uses his thumb to collect the milky fluid, rubbing it over your clit to use as lubricant as his dick continues to pump the rest of his load into your abused hole.

“Good girl,” he whispers absentmindedly as he fucks you through his aftershocks, the pad of his thumb driving you crazy as you squirm beneath him. Izuku can tell by the sheer force with which you’re clamped down on him that you’re chasing your own high, your eyes squinted closed so you can focus on orgasming until you’ve coated his cock with your arousal.

Izuku fights through the bliss that’s clouding his mind to lean down and kiss over your face, “C’mon, Princess, come for me.”

When your eyes split open, the first thing you notice is the scar that cuts from his hairline down over his eyebrow, separating the tail of his brow from the base. You reach up to brush your fingertip over it, your heels dug into the curve of his ass to bring yourself closer to him, if that were at all possible. Your mouth hangs open as your thumb maps out the scar, ragged flesh the very opposite of the remaining smooth plane of his body.

“I love you,” you whisper, silent silver tears leaking from your eyes as the combination of all of your senses being stimulated pushes you over the crest, drowning you in the waves of pleasure he creates by rocking into you.

It has taken years for Izuku to understand that you paying attention to the jagged parts of his body does not mean that you would not love him if he were any less broken.

Your vision passes over each inch of his body, taking inventory of the markings on his body – freckles, blemishes, scars – as if they might have changed since the last time you looked. Your hands roam over his shoulders, finding the pale scars and dipping your fingertips against them to feel the ridges against the rough pad of your digits.

Midoriya melds his mouth against yours, lost in the taste of you as his cock spasms within your tight heat. Your entire bodies are coated in a mixture of tears and sweat and slick, but you don’t care as he lowers himself down on top of you until you’re flush with one another from shoulder to ankle.

His tongue is mapping the curvatures of your teeth when he responds in kind, “I love you, too.”

He slows once he realizes you’ve both been milked of whatever else you might have left to give. Your body is gently placed back down on the bed, hot sweat sticking to the cooled sheets. Izuku kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, lavishing each inch with the utmost affection, it could make you cry.

Your hands work through his hair, curls falling silkily between your knuckles. You lean forward and kiss the spot on his forehead where his brows are furrowed. At the feel of your affections, his expression softens and the creases on his skin soften into nothing but fine lines. Izuku smiles up at you, nuzzling your cheek, “You did so good, baby, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm, you make it easy,” you croon into the shell of his ear as he tilts himself forward, still buried in you even as his cock goes soft. You tilt your head, curling a finger around a lock of his hair, “W-Were you serious?”

Izuku catches a glint of the diamond on your left hand, a proud grin bringing out his dimples, “You’ll know in, what, four weeks?”

The whole thing is too exciting, and you know that even though you’re still on contraceptives, it could happen. He doesn’t move to correct himself, instead waiting on your answer.

“F-Four weeks,” you nod, your tongue sitting heavy and dry in between your teeth.

Midoriya catches your hesitation, “We won’t change anything, except how many times a day I bury my cock into that pretty little pussy of yours. We’ll see if I can beat out the statistics on your medication.”

You know he’s talking about the one-in-whatever chance that your birth control doesn’t work, but the way he says it drags shivers up your spine. You curl both hands into his hair and swallow the thick emotion pent up in your throat, “You meant what you said?”

“Four weeks,” he echoes as if it should be an answer. Izuku knows better than to have a permanent conversation with you when your eyes are still glassy like this, your mind still submerged in that headspace he puts you in when the two of you fuck this way, rough and merciless. All he can do now is remember to talk to you about this once you’re both calm and rational.

Your eyes fill with a fresh set of tears and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the base of your throat, “I’m gonna fill you up with so much come, baby. We might have to get you a plug.”

You tighten every orifice of your body, fingers dug deeper into the muscle of his shoulders. Your thumb catches on the curve of one of his particularly deep scars, slicing into him like veins on a marble slab. In your heightened state, it’s easy to feel like you’re floating in midair and might never come down, but the tactile reminder of his body beneath your fingertips gives you that anchor that you need to keep yourself from drifting too far.

Methodically, you drift the pads of your digits back and forth, a melody playing in your head that you play out against his body. The rigidity of his form, strong and barring as he loiters over you, only adds to the calm that you feel wash over your frame, settling into your bones like stardust. You feel lightheaded, but in a giddy way, the warmth of Midoriya’s body just as soothing as the patterns you’re marking into his body.

Two tears drip over the edges of your eyes and you look up at him, bringing a thumb up to brush his hair out of his eyes, “I-I wanna make you a Daddy. For real.”

You think back to the day you first met – how he stole your heart with one simple look. He has always been it for you, that you now realize. From the first syllable to now, he has reigned you in, held you beneath his thumb in such a captivating way that you don’t ever want to escape.

You want to give back to him what the world never could – a little hero of his own.

It’s a blank slate, a place to start anew. Something that the burdens of Izuku’s past can never bury under layers of scar tissue and regret. The giddiness that makes your heartbeat in a frenzy only gives you more confidence to reach forward and wrap yourself around him like an animal begging for comfort. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, “You deserve this, Izu, you deserve to be happy.”

“Hey,” he calls down to you, upturning your face with the gentle pressure of his thumb underneath your chin, “I am happy, here with you.”

Your face grows hot at his confession, and you wonder if you misconstrued your words. You swallow, rolling your hips upward to reconnect your bodies at the waist, trying to convey that you can give him so much more, that you’re offering up your body to be a martyr. Your eyes water as you link your hands around his neck, thumbing at the crest of his undercut.

“Please,” you whisper, voice broken but beautiful as your single syllable speaks volumes even in the quiet of your shared bedroom.

There is a growl that erupts in his throat and he lunges forward, sucking and licking at your neck. You whimper, falling slack in his touch as you try to keep yourself anchored to him with biting, blunt fingernails. Your jaw hangs open just enough that he can see the pink of your tongue if he leans far enough back.

As Deku reclaims your mouth in his own, the primal thing burning deep in his belly spurring his cock to go for round two, he can’t help but think to himself that he’s going to make you a momma, no matter how hard he has to try, or how long it takes.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

“Why are you so enamored by them?”

You still your hand over his bare chest, your index finger tracing the ridge of one of his biggest scars – a rippling cut straight through his pectoral, the tip of it disappearing in the curve of his muscles as they meet in the middle.

When you don’t answer, Izuku swallows the lump in his throat and sits up a little straighter, leaning his shoulders back against the headboard. He looks down his nose at you, shallow breaths making his chest inflate quickly, “I guess I just don’t understand what could be so fascinating about them. Why do you like to touch them all the time?”

You turn so you are strewn across his abdomen, your chin rested in the seam of his pectorals as you look up at him, “I guess they make me feel things.”

“F-Feel things?” Izuku’s face scrunches up in confusion, the wrinkles of his nose making you smile.

Tenderly, you brush your thumb over the creases of his forehead until he relaxes, and then you start mapping out the scarred lines on his face and taking inventory of his freckled cheeks. You sigh, chewing on your lower lip, “It depends on what’s going on, but when I look at you, I feel any plethora of things – sadness, joy, horniness…”

“My scars make you horny?”

You let out a laugh and drop your forehead down and bury it in his chest to hide the blush on your cheeks. Your palm falls from his face to his collarbone, gripping his shoulder as best you can. Midoriya joins you in laughter, tucking his nose into the crown of your head so he can plant kisses into your hair. He is always so soft and kind with you, especially in these moments after you’ve been conjoined by the hips for hours on end, your heart beating in time with his as you lay pressed flush against one another. There are moments when you are a cage of limbs and you do not know where he ends and you begin, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Seeing you all roughed up just does something to me, I dunno!” You tilt your head back so you can look him in the eye, “I like knowing that you can handle yourself, and each scar has a story and we’ve been together for years and I still don’t think I’ve heard them all.”

It looks like there is something on his mind, with the way his face tenses up as soon as you stop laughing together. You rub your ankle against his calf and force him to look you in the eyes with a gentle nudging of your knuckle against his jawline, “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

Izuku is not normally speechless or lacking in things to say. In fact, more often than not, you have to gently place your hand on his shoulder to remind him that everyone can hear his loud mutterings, or that sometimes there are more appropriate times to speak your mind. This time, his tongue lolls around within his cheeks as he tries to come up with the right thing to say.  The pattering of your heart grows faster the longer he is silenced, your pulse thudding like thunder in your ears as you anticipate what could possibly be plaguing his mind at a time like this.

Your thumb brushes against a scar near his ear and he circles his fingers around your wrist, “Would you still love me if I didn’t have them? If my skin was perfect, like Kacchan or Todoroki?”

“First of all, Todoroki has a big ass scar on his face, so jot that down,” you tease, pushing yourself up to kiss him square on the lips. You pull away from him but not entirely, still brushing your nose along the bridge of his cheeks, “And Bakugou has a stupid quirk that gives him great skin, so he’s an awful example.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes and shoves your hand away from his face, sitting up even further so you fall away from him, curling yourself into the sheets. His countenance looks overly contemplative, and it’s beginning to worry you. You sit up in the bed, grabbing his shirt off the nightstand to cover yourself with, tossing it over your head with ease. The fabric pools at your waist but it smells intoxicating, just like him, his warmth from earlier in the night somehow still sticking to the fabric to provide you comfort.

“You know what I mean,” he grits his teeth, unable to look at you as he poses the question, “I-I just…I wonder if you love them more than you love me, sometimes, is all.”

It does not take long for you to redirect his attention back to you, turning his face with a rough yank of your wrist. You look him in the eyes, and he is but a broken little boy in this moment, begging for you to piece him back together.

The thought that he is nothing more than patchwork put back together by the scars on his body makes you feel hollow inside. How can a man who has given up so much feel like so small in a moment of pure reflection? Does he not see all the good he brings to the world, and yet how little it ever dares to give back to him?

“Izuku Midoriya,” your voice is stern, and you watch as he bolsters his spine as if he were talking to a Pro Hero, “I would love you if your whole body was covered in scars or if you had perfect skin. Why would you say something like that?”

Before he can give you some long-winded answer, you throw a leg across his lap so you’re straddling him and he has nowhere to run to, nowhere to divert his attention. Your palms are on his face, cupping his cheeks and making sure to look him dead in the eyes as you give him a dose of the truth. Still, you fear your words may not be enough to satiate his wounded pride, his blistered ego.

“When I look at you, I see how much the universe has stolen from you, how much of your body the world has taken, and how everyone else just takes you for granted.” Your voice grows heavier with each word, the threat of tears sitting in your eyelids, making your face warm. “I see a man who, time and time again, gives everything up to save the world, and all it does in return is take.”

You intake a short breath, trying to calm yourself because this is his moment to ache until his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. Now it is your job to soothe his burning soul with the salve of your reassurance, mending his inner turmoil with a metaphoric touch that you pray can seep into the cracks of his resolve until he’s full once more.

Brushing his hair away from his face, you lean in closer so you can speak softly, “You once called them ugly. I think that every single scar is a reminder of something that happened in the past. I love to hear your stories of how you got them, each heroic act displayed on your body like a little lightning bolt of truth.”

A sigh parts your lips and you drop your gaze to his chest, finding the familiar ridges of flayed skin easily. You lick your lip and trace your thumb over a few of them, relishing in the quiet moments before you have to speak again.

“I don’t love your scars, I love you.” You press your palms flat to his chest so you can cover the expanse of his pectorals beneath your hands, the heel of your palm against the swell of his chest, “I would ask you for all of your stories even if I never touched a single scar, even if I never saw one. I’d ask you because I want to know you.”

Your hands travel north towards his neck, delicately roaming over the thin skin of his throat before winding into the hair at the back of his head, “I’m so fascinated by them because I want you to know that I don’t think any less of you for them, that I don’t believe you to be weak just because you’re marked by your experiences. If anything, I think it’s beautiful, that you’ve been given this burden like Atlas, to carry around the weight of each on one your shoulders.

“But even though it’s beautiful, that does not mean that it’s right,” your voice turns cold, hard and jagged as you speak through your teeth, “How much more can you be expected to give? Does the universe not see what it’s done to you? What it’s asking of you to continue doing? I just can’t imag-oh.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his hands traveling up your spine beneath your shirt, palming at the skin of your shoulders. Izuku nips your lower lip and you are melting in his touch like always, “I love you.”

You tilt your head, gasping as he starts down the column of your neck, biting kisses in a warm, wet line as he descends. You echo out the sentiment in return, barely able to make out syllables with the salacious way his lips and tongue are working at your skin. Your hands twist in his hair and he pulls you flush with him so he can nudge the collar of the shirt aside to show your collarbones the same attention as your neck.

“Oh!” you pipe up, your voice hardly more than a squeak, “And I love your freckles too. They’re so cute and I love how they’re literally everywhere, even your dic-”

“Less talking,” Izuku takes you by surprise, tackling you back into the mattress, “more kissing.”

And you happily oblige.

Besides, you have the rest of your life to tell him how much you love his freckles.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

a/n: all right. that’s it. never writing deku fic EVER again. phew. kacchan, please don’t be mad, honey, it was for a friend, i swear!!!!!

also it’s almost 4 am when i’m posting this so if the last section doesn’t make sense i’m sORRY!!!

taglist: 

@tui-lah @viviankennedy @bnha-homeroom @frogsmarch @anxietys-a-bitch @succulent-momma @albuquerquemalu @ali-on-reverie @iamthe-leaf @kamehamethot @hoe-biscus @ux-l3ee @lovelustdollsworld @bigbootyconnections @alexandria-selina @eianthedumbass @sanguinekeigo @desia2 @loveydoveythot @shoutosplaything @thatloserweeb @kittysocks20 @jayetheanimefreek101 @toastedpopsicles @riotfuckery @spidrskarma @panbaigel @unsafetypin @peltho @mes-bisous @ee-blue @mildlyman @moondust-and-starlight @ihaileysenpai @hijackedreese @vampiregirl70 @gwizzpanda @powderedjellidoughnut @salemthewitch​ @unknown-girlie​ @mea-100​ @crystal-is-in-the-digiworld​ @phantomjeans​ @lozmarton​ @bananayogurtbitch​ @wwhndsome​ @violeteyedkeith​ @pumapurman​ @stfucanunot​

[dorki-c]

My Guardian Demon| Chapter 1, Part 3: Inheritance

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X (Reader)

Rating: 16+

A/N: I thought writing this part would be really hard...Nope. Not at all. I’m surprised! I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Brief mention of Fire, Swearing 

[Masterlist] [<— Previous| Next —>]

(Song recommendation for this chapter: All the good girl’s go to hell By Billie Eilish)

PROMPT QUESTION FOR THIS STORY ARC: Are all demons ‘bad’?

“But I’m not giving up on my dream, if you aren’t going to give up on yours.”

Alas, the gloriously golden sun highlighted the features of the old dusk that was soon turning into their new dawn.

(And might I say, if society got in their way, they will pay their dues the hard way.)

The two of them knew they had to paint the sky a fresh light blue, to develop the painting of the environment with creative splatters of white to resemble the clouds.

With the sun almost sliding to horizon’s edge, a cloudy vermillion mist (that was his demon) slipped into the view of the sun, highlighting their features but not letting a shadow smudge the surface of the pretty earth that the star ruled over.

“I know you won’t give up on your dream.” Even from three footsteps away, Izuku could still make out the multitude of voices mixed together. 

“So, I won’t give up on my own dream.” Although, even if one voice is made up of many sounds, that doesn’t mean it can’t resonate with tenacity.

“Got it!”

From a roof top of an apartment building to the lonesome streets below, it was still unbelievable to the middle schooler that he…literally met All Might.

(And that he had learned of All Might’s weakness.)

Nonetheless, after every battle we grow stronger.

(Right?)

------------------------------------

The days of our years always past through fingertips that have soaked in sin.

Yet, those who want to fight are the ones who shoulder said sins like an unlucky medal garnished in pure gold.

And how this medal got passed into Izuku’s somehow capable hand, who knows?

Where the demon stood at the back of the mass of people surrounding them, Izuku was at front of the crowd. A racing horse of many thoughts drowned his selfish needs and his demon’s hopeless demands.

How can he prove to society that he is capable to be a hero?  

How can he do it?

The scene of a filthy crime, the stage was set with a hostage and villain. One of them had manifested as a flaxen haired male, maybe around Izuku’s age? Though the moment the green-haired boy saw a familiar dandelion crackling outlining the big BOOM destroying the landscape around the hostage—he just started moving too fast for his demon’s claws to catch.

(T-That’s—that’s the same villain who attacked him!)

At first, a cold breeze of (what he believes might be) your hands about to catch him. Were you about to halter or allow him to write a new beginning?

(No, you weren’t stopping Izuku. Did you want to see this event play out?)

Sure, when the main act was about to end, maybe another new role can rush in and save the show.

Why were you staying behind? Did you approve of his actions? Izuku thought you hated it when he played the saviour role. Was he wrong?

(Izuku has never been a clairvoyant, however, he can be a saviour.)

Knocking and shoving past the innocently confused bystanders, visions of red scorching the surface of the road, the sight of that same gloopy villain cackling in satisfaction at the catch they managed to reel in.

“None of us have the right quirks to stop a villain like this!” The false heroes would always say.

“I’m not a real hero…” The Symbol of Peace may whisper to himself after saving many people.

“I want to be a hero!” Is the cry of a boy whose been doubted for his whole life.

Will he be successful in his attempt of grabbing “KACCHAN!” out of the sludge after throwing his yellow bag straight at the target?

(He ends up hitting the villain’s eye! Whoop! Whoop! Bullseye! )

If it wasn’t the summer sun of this fateful day.

Then it was the memories of childhood youth coming to ride the sailing riptide of the small green-haired boys kindness.

Where pebbles tumbled down the riverway above the stream of shallow river water travelling downwards was a large tree trunk pretending to be a safe bridge for the five children carelessly bumbling across it.

As the ringleader lost his footing and slipping down, down, down into the small riptide, if it wasn’t for the cicadas- clicking away with their summery sounds whilst they hide in the bushes- then a small splosh of water could’ve sounded like splashing into a large rain puddle.

(But it didn’t, instead the sound was nearly as silent as a dormouse sneaking into your fridge for cheese.)

Underneath Mother Nature’s bridge, casted a shadow blanketing the vermillion mist where the desolate being stood waiting for its owner to notice them, but the owner ignores the mist like he usually did and opts for helping the blonde-haired ringleader.

(He’s always helped people. (Y/n) can’t tell you when he hasn’t helped anybody.)

Extending his chubby baby hands, the green haired boy asked the blonde one “are you alright?” Though the demon knows that Izuku didn’t intend for that sentence to make the other child to narrow their crimson eyes.

However, whoever anybody is, Izuku will always extend a hand.

This does not exempt from his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki.

(This is what it means to be a saviour. Not a hero.)

The performance of a brave act had concluded with a boring aftermath.

(Like how can a demon say that watching All Might change the weather was exciting?)

Clobbered around Izuku’s tired form was a few (false) heroes who lectured him about how he should “be careful, because you could’ve easily died” to that villain.

(Though the demon had the audacity to scoff at the shitty remarks, if those heroes did their jobs properly and pulled Bakugo out of the villain’s grasps, then Izuku wouldn’t have had to.)

Let’s not forget, that Izuku was the one who had the guts to do what the heroes couldn’t do and that Bakugou was praised for his bravery.

What ‘bravery’ was there to show? If anything, those vermillion eyes showcased fifty shades of fear and that’s not tipping the iceberg of what those falsities had said about bravery.

(They were only boosting his ego.)

------------------------------------

“Do you think I did the right thing, (y/n)?” Izuku muttered out loud, although his demon was occupied with ignoring the ‘demon therapy’ poster that hung desolate on a lamp post and instead had the goal of catching a freaking butterfly.

When their hand reached out to grab it. They halted, turned towards Izuku, then asked “were you talking” because they were highly busy trying to catch an insignificant insect to notice that Izuku said something out loud.

“N-no! Don’t worr—” A rough, maybe a tad bit too loud of a bark cut Izuku off when he heard the familiar insult of “DEKU!” from the distance.

“Oh god, what does Bakugo want?” Izuku simply shrugged. Nobody really knows what Bakugo wants anymore. Is it validation? Pride? A sense of superiority?

Nobody, not even Izuku’s demon, could make out what he wanted by his little prompt speech about not owing Izuku a dime of gratefulness. With his whole act of calling Izuku a “quirkless failure who wouldn’t cut out to be a shitty rent-a-cop, even if he tried.”

Furthermore, how dare the blonde-haired boy think that Izuku was looking down on him. He first calls Izuku a “weakling” after all he had done, then accuses him that “he did nothing to help,” and then decided to strut off like the moody teenager he is.

(But what if you were mistaken to think he was moody?)

----------------------------------

When passing maybe two, perhaps three corners of rows with houses lined down the sides of the passageways, with boxed in backyards and the sun starting to lay its weary head down for a long desolate nap, Izuku was once again setting his mind straight and into autopilot.

“Hey Izuku?” You were asking the questions and he was answering back with his answers. Usually, you either stayed quiet or screamed at anybody (besides his mom) who dared to touch his precious face, so if he was guessing why you were asking him a question; it was because you were asking him an ‘important’ question (or so you labelled them to be important, because they seriously aren’t).

“Y-Yes (Y/n)?”

And of course, Izuku isn’t clairvoyant, so how would he know that your upcoming question was “what were the colours of the sky?” since your quite forgetful at times.

What? Why were you asking that question again? He’s told you a couple times before “there’s only one colour of the sky, its blue” but knowing you and your airheaded attitude, he has to stay patient. With your small nod to his answer, you seemed satisfied with the small talk until—

“I AM HERE!” Booms behind the green-haired boy (unexpectedly).

If it wasn’t for puberty, then Izuku could’ve lost his voice by the singlehanded scream of “ALL MIGHT! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!”

(And what’s the point of saying “I stand for justice!” when you can’t stand up in your hero form for five minutes before spewing blood from your mouth?)

All joking aside, when the pro-hero stood in front of Izuku in his rawest form, he had a statement to say for the green-haired boy.

“Young man, I came here to thank you and discuss your question.” What? All Might was giving up his time and energy to speak to him? A quirkless nobody?

Well…colour his demon’s pointed look at the worn-down man, in the richest colours of a rainbow. What does this pro-hero want with Izuku? .

.

.

“If you hadn’t told me about your life or had run into that fight, then I would have been a worthless bystander.” With the movement of his face allowing the thin-skinned cheek muscles to stretch his lips up to his onyx encircled blue eyes, All Might had presented the most sincerely painful smile he could muster in this small snippet of time.

Though, not surprisingly enough, this caught Izuku off guard. His expression paling as he frantically waved his hands about and only managing to utter the words of “N-no! No! It was my fault to begin with! If I hadn’t wasted your time and made you drop the villain t-then--!”

All Might cutting Izuku off mid-sentence was like a miracle out of the ninth circle of hell for (Y/n).

“I’m not done talking,” Hushing the 14 year old, All Might had continued his statement from earlier, “You told me you were powerless, so when I was standing in the crowd—watching this timid, quirkless kid rush into danger.”

The pro-hero paused in trying to find the right words.

“That inspired me to act as well.”

With a hand on his heart, the moment was truly overwhelming for Izuku.

“AND WITH THAT!”

All Might had poofed back into his hero form as soon as the sent his exclamation out to the world.

“I HAVE DEEMED YOU WORTHY OF INHERITING MY POWER!”

(Wait…what?)

The revelation of what the hero had unveiled to both the green-haired boy and his red demon was very confusing to process.

(And when did heroes become so self-righteous? Like jeez, calm down on that ego of yours All Might!)

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @izukubabe​, @sweater-weather-seven, @nyanyabisjjj, @quietlegends, @dragonsdreamoffire​, @candybabey​, @honeylavender13​​

CREDITS:

All content and art used within this story belongs to their respective owners. PLAGARISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Art credits: Dorki-C and @glitterfreezed​

[MASTERLIST OF “My Guardian Demon”]​ [MAIN MASTERLIST]

[makeste]

obstacles do not block the path

they are the path.

or something. it’s a zen proverb. anyway, so this is yet another post about Bakugou potentially losing his quirk. I’m gonna try to articulate it a little better this time. rather than just explaining why I think it’s likely to happen, I tried to explain why I think this specific and as-yet-still-hypothetical character decision is a very deliberate and purposeful one. in other words, this isn’t my argument for why it will happen; this is a post about why it should happen.

to start, there are two Horikoshi interviews which I want to quote here, and the reason I’m quoting them is because they do a good job of summing up the dual nature of the hero model that BnHA is built on. I’ll start with the longer quote, which is Horikoshi’s answer to the question, “so Sensei, what heroes do you like?”

[It would] probably have to be Goku and Spider-Man. To me, when mentioning heroes, these two are the ones that I think of. In Goku’s case, it’s the reassurance that everything is going to be fine which he brings when arriving. Such as, on Namek, Goku was getting healed, and his friends were all beaten badly. When Goku finally recovered and walked out of the healing machine, that reassurance right there is what I’m talking about. Something like “Ah, everything is going to be fine”. When I first read it and saw it was really Goku who had arrived, I continued reading thinking the thought “gonna win”. (laughs) That reassurance is something that all of the other characters don’t have. I thought about it afterwards, and even though there are a variety of heroes, the hero model that is built up in my mind is built around the concept that the hero is somebody that brings reassurance. That’s why I think a hero to me is somebody that helps and brings reassurance to others.

In Spider-Man’s case, the first experience I had with this character was the movie, in which there were a lot of scenes with him rescuing people, which I felt that was really cool. The moment he “saves somebody” is really awesome. Well, in Goku’s case, it’s because he likes fighting that he fights, so that’s a bit different. (laughs) You can say that Spider-Man and Goku are two different aspects of being a hero.

I’m sure you all can figure out just who Goku and Spider-Man each represent in respect to our beloved series.

as for the second Horikoshi quote, this one is much shorter. just a single line, actually, in regards to the development of Bakugou’s character:

I also thought to have [Bakugou] and Deku improve on two separate vectors as they entered U.A.

that’s it. just a single sentence lol. except that this one sentence can basically be used to sum up the entirety of Bakugou’s character development throughout the series, and it also serves as a roadmap as to what I think might happen next.

let’s start with the very first line in the series.

this sets the stage for everything that happens next. it establishes who these characters are right from the get-go. we see the hierarchy of quirk society, and we see two children born on polar opposites of the spectrum. Izuku, who was born quirkless, who exists at the bottom of the food chain. and Katsuki, born with a powerful quirk and the natural talent to back it up, who sits comfortably at the very top of the pyramid. two children who, from a very young age, are set up to walk completely different paths in life.

and yet the curious thing is, their goals are the same.

they both want to be like All Might. interestingly, though, they look up to him for different reasons. each boy admires All Might for what they see of themselves in him. Izuku sees a hero who protects others and works to save them no matter what. and Katsuki sees a champion who never gives up and who always emerges victorious.

and what the story eventually goes on to explain is that these are two halves of the same hero. Spider-Man, who rescues people and brings them hope. and Goku, who always wins no matter what, and by doing so brings reassurance to others. these two aspects together make up the perfect, consummate hero which both Izuku and Katsuki aspire to be. and the story is about how they get there.

but it’s that how that’s really where things begin to get interesting. because as previously mentioned, Katsuki and Izuku each start out their respective journeys in very different places. their origins, their “starting lines” as the series sometimes puts it, are polar opposites of one another, and yet they both are heading for the same goal. they want the same thing, but to get there, they each have to journey from a different place.

and what that means is that right from the start, it was impossible for Izuku and Katsuki’s journeys to be the same. more than that, they’re not just different journeys, they’re the opposite journeys. if you start from two opposing ends of a path facing towards the same goal, the only way for you to reach that goal is by traveling in the exact opposite direction as the other person. as an illustration of this, please accept this visual aid which I drew with love:

eh. eh.

so let’s continue to retrace each of their paths as the story progresses. we’ll start with Izuku first. his story begins when he receives One for All, a quirk that allows him to compete with other would-be heroes on equal ground for the first time. by this point he has already learned inner strength and compassion and selflessness. he already cares deeply about others. and so his trajectory now veers towards him learning what it means to be a champion. learning the things that Katsuki already knows.

and Izuku makes a lot of mistakes when he first starts out. he is too selfless. he rushes in to save others without sparing any thought for himself, resulting in repeated instances of him getting in over his head and getting injured and taking himself out of the fight. he almost gets himself expelled for this on the very first day of hero school, and Aizawa’s very first order of business is to chew him out over how irresponsible he is.

we see Izuku struggle to learn how to inspire others and be a leader, traits which happen to come to Katsuki naturally. Katsuki instinctively smiles when he’s up against a wall. he inspires others without even trying -- inspires them even in spite of his abrasive personality. but these are things which don’t come naturally to Izuku. Izuku is more inclined to follow than lead, because he doesn’t feel compelled to put himself in the spotlight, and because he is cooperative and will defer to others who are more aggressive about putting themselves in the leader role. Izuku doesn’t do the whole hero grin thing naturally, either; this is something he has to be coached on and consciously think about, and his early efforts are a bit hit-or-miss.

Izuku is more focused on saving people, and sometimes misses the fact that in order to do so, sometimes the best course of action is to just straight up beat the shit out of the bad guy(s). he learns this over the course of the series, and we see him doing the never-give-up thing against Muscular, and Overhaul, and Gentle. and Izuku’s selfless nature almost causes him to give up OFA to Mirio because he sees him as being more worthy; Mirio has to talk him out of it in order to stop him. in short, Izuku’s arc is all about him gradually learning confidence and becoming a badass.

now contrast this against Katsuki’s arc, which has the opposite trajectory. Katsuki starts out as someone who is already strong and confident. he is hard-working and driven and dedicated to his own self-improvement. he’s a prodigy when it comes to battle, and his determination to succeed inspires others to challenge and push themselves in order to keep up with him. 

he is a natural leader, and a terrible follower. and he completely overlooks the “saving people” aspect of being a hero in favor of the “kicking ass” part.

so now here’s the interesting thing. Izuku’s growth comes from achieving new things and gaining new abilities and skills. his growth comes from experiencing victory and success. but Katsuki’s growth takes the exact opposite path. as someone who has experienced success his entire life, Katsuki’s first steps toward progress only come once he starts experiencing failure for the very first time. it might seem counterintuitive, but his breakthroughs only come after he experiences setbacks. because just like Izuku needed to experience victory in order to grow, Katsuki needed to experience loss. just as Izuku needed to grow stronger, Katsuki needed to learn what it was like to experience weakness. without that understanding, his growth would have stagnated.

so from a certain perspective, the story’s treatment of Katsuki vs Izuku might not seem fair. Izuku constantly receives help while Katsuki only faces hindrances. Izuku’s strength only ever seems to increase, while Katsuki is repeatedly confronted by his own limitations. he’s attacked by villains. he’s kidnapped. he blames himself for his hero’s downfall. etc. etc. etc.

but the reason why Horikoshi keeps putting him through all these situations is because in order to have someone grow as a character, you need to have them slowly overcome their flaws. and it just so happens that Izuku and Katsuki’s flaws are the exact opposites of each other’s. and so when you think about it, it only makes sense that in order for them to develop, they’re going to need to take opposite routes. “what they lack” is completely different. and thus “what they need to gain” will also be completely different. this is something which has been very plainly laid out from the earliest chapters of the series...

...and which has been hammered into our heads over and over again ever since.

anyway! enough of my long-winded rambling. you get the point! Katsuki and Izuku have the same goal but are approaching it from opposite sides. just as they are mirrors of each other, so are their arcs mirrors of each other’s arcs. they balance each other out.

but now I’m going to add on a bit more to that, though, so just hear me out. yes, it’s very good and wonderful that they can do this. their strengths complement each other’s flaws; their weaknesses offset. the two of them can and will one day be unstoppable together, and all of that is cool and great and epic.

but it’s also limiting to think of the two of them solely in these kinds of terms; as half-formed individuals who can only be complete and whole when they’re by each other’s side. they are each still their own person as well! and in order for them to achieve this same kind of balance within themselves, they can’t just simply meet in the middle and be done with it. both of them need to continue to walk down their respective paths and experience each other’s side, not just their own. here, let me just break it down:

Deku: starts out quirkless -> learns humility and compassion and how to put others before himself -> gets a quirk -> learns how to be strong and win and inspire courage in others -> becomes a hero that both wins and saves.

Kacchan: starts out with a good quirk -> learns how to be strong and win and inspire courage in others -> ??? -> learns humility and compassion and how to put others before himself -> becomes a hero that both saves and wins.

ah. and now we finally get to our actual fucking point lol.

do you see?? they are perfect mirrors of each other, except for one critical juncture. Izuku grew up on Rescue Road, but the entrance to Beating Villains Boulevard was always barricaded off. until one day he finally got a quirk, and so was permitted entry. meanwhile, Katsuki has lived on BV Blvd his entire life, and until very recently he never even knew there was a Rescue Rd. and now that he finally does know, he’s been working very hard to get there, and has made many detours all over Plot Parkway, and has finally reached the point where he’s at least able to see the road that leads where he needs to go. but he still hasn’t gotten there yet. for him it’s still barricaded off in the same way that his road was once barricaded off to Izuku.

and there are other ways for him to gain access to this road. ways which involve far less pain and suffering, tbh! but the problem is, he’s never been the type of boy who has the patience for any of those other roads. he can’t be bothered to take the scenic route there. he’s in a rush. and so he keeps on trying to force his way past the barricade using brute strength and whatever other means he can think of, perhaps even trying to use the toll pass he got back on his own street (stay with me, metaphor; we’re in this till the bitter end now), thinking that if it worked over there, it should work for him here too. but it doesn’t. and the longer he keeps pressing up against this barricade, the more frustrated he becomes.

and meanwhile Izuku has already made himself at home over on Katsuki’s own street. and so that sure is annoying! except it turns out that by watching Izuku very closely, Katsuki can sort of get an idea of how they do things over on Izuku’s old street, just like Izuku once observed Katsuki and admired him as the closest he could get to being on BV Blvd himself. so at least that’s something. and the more Katsuki does observe and imitate him, the more he’s actually able to do a passing impression of a true Rescue Rd native. and maybe eventually he even starts thinking to himself, I don’t really need to go down this stupid road anyway, even though deep down he knows that the only route through to All Might Avenue is through that road. and also though, the other thing is that seeing as he’s only ever lived on his own street, he still thinks, even now, that his street is objectively the better of the two and the more important.

but that’s not how it works. the plain fact of the matter is that in order to get to All Might Ave you need to pass through both roads. if it was just Hero Highway that they were trying to reach? well then sure! that one’s easy. exit’s right over there. but they don’t want plain old Hero Highway. they want All Might Ave. they want to be the best heroes. they want to complete their respective character journeys. and to do that, Kacchan needs to find what he lacks. and to do that, he needs to gain access to this road.

so what I’m trying to say here is that because of who Katsuki is, and because of what his goal is, the surest and most logical way to complete his character arc is by bringing it around full circle as a mirror to Izuku’s. in order to fulfill his goal of becoming the best hero, Katsuki has to lose his quirk. it’s symmetry. it’s yin and yang. it’s equilibrium. in order to move forward he must first go back. in order to win, he has to lose. for him, this is the missing piece.

and just to clarify, because I feel like this needs to be said: this is not about “redemption through suffering”, though. it’s not “oh he deserves it for how he treated Izuku all those years ago.” and it’s not “let’s make the audience feel sorry for poor little Kacchan so that they feel more sympathetic towards him”, either. that’s not it at all! because the thing is, this isn’t about punishment; this is about fulfillment. this isn’t angst for the sake of angst. this is about placing a very deliberately and meticulously crafted obstacle in front of him for the purpose of forcing him to learn how to overcome it.

because he will overcome it. this is Bakugou fucking Katsuki. he is not fragile. he is not delicate or frail. and so for anyone who’s worried this might be a crushing mental blow? I think you just might be underestimating him.

that’s not to say it won’t be grueling for him, mind. losing his quirk would mean coming face to face with the very real possibility of losing his dream too. because society doesn’t believe that people without quirks can be heroes. Katsuki himself never believed that someone without a quirk could be a hero.

but you know who did believe that? because he had to believe it, growing up, because no one else believed in him?

yeah. that’s right.

you see, for Izuku, his own intrinsic worth isn’t inherently tied to his quirk, because growing up he never had a quirk. now contrast that with Katsuki, whose own sense of self-worth is completely wrapped up in his quirk, his strength, his natural talent. Katsuki, who grew up being told how amazing his quirk was, and believing that the hierarchy of the world around him meant that having a good quirk placed him above other who didn’t. and who consequently also grew up with a correspondingly huge fear of failure, because his sense of security and fulfillment is contingent on his being strong. and if that were ever to change, to him that would mean a total loss of everything he is, everything he’s ever known, and everything he is striving to be.

“lol I thought you just said this wouldn’t be the crushing blow for him”, and yeah, lol, fair enough. but this is also exactly why it’s so important for him to finally face this fear head on. because even though it frightens him, even though it would devastate him, I don’t think it would defeat him. rather, I think that once he came to terms with what had happened and accepted it, he would do what he always does. he would rise back up.

because in spite of what he has always feared, he isn’t weak. and so even though losing his quirk would be harrowing, I think that, if done right, it could also be liberating and even empowering. because it’s him facing his fears. it’s an obstacle to overcome for the sake of him realizing that he can overcome it. because him being quirkless is not, in fact, the end of the world.

because his strength isn’t in his quirk -- it’s in his spirit. exactly like the boy he once secretly feared. exactly the same as Izuku.

so yeah. that’s basically it. tl;dr Deku and Kacchan are on opposite vectors and Katsuki’s is becoming particularly hazardous to navigate at the moment, but what at first glance seems to be a potential death blow could in fact be the thing that finally propels him forward towards where he wants to go and who he truly wants to be. and I am here for it. I want my boy to find himself some enlightenment. and then to rise back up again like the badass he is.

[pandemilkbread]

devil 007 (prologue)

devil 007 (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

summary:

(demon!au)

Turns out Bakugo Katsuki never wanted to eat your soul, rather he just needed someone to play video games with.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :>

                                                    ☆     ☆     ☆

𝑖. 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

“That was a fucking accident.”

“An explosion that big is not an accident!”

You might be wondering how the hell were you hanging on the tallest building in the underworld holding on to a pipeline for your dear life. While your notorious partner-in-crime Bakugo just watched as you dangled ninety feet in the air. 

“I swear if I die I will shitting haunt you for all eternity! You’d be fed up with all my shit the moment my soul reaches your territory. Just imagine, me annoying you fore—“

“Jump.” He grumbled. 

No. Jump? Hell no. You’d rather die than jump into his arms. Bakugo was more likely to miss, and you’d fall (probably five storeys) before he dare tried to save you. 

You wanted to scream. How all this happened in the first place, you hardly remember. No, you did remember. 

It was all because of that stupid book. 

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

It was a mishap, really. The wrong book got delivered to the wrong place at the wrong time, and exactly the wrong thing happened as a consequence. 

You were a college student who had just finished the semester, and frankly... a miserable one you were. Failing a quiz was one thing, but you had to mess up your finals so badly a retake wouldn’t suffice. You had to take up the subject all over again. 

Sighing, you lay flat on your back. The ceiling had this magical property to suck up all the negativity in your life. 

(it didn’t. but you’d like to think so.)

You had all the time in the world to repeat the subject. The problem? Cash. Having a scholarship at a prestigious university wasn’t easy. One measly failure could mean bye-bye free tuition fees and hello student loans that could last centuries + a liver.

Doomed you were, honey. You groaned. At least the treasury board approved the student allowances; which meant? The poor student (you) finally bought the heavy shitass syllabus for your major. The subject you failed. 

It could take weeks for the parcel to arrive. What did you expect? You only ordered it days ago. The sooner it gets here, you’d be studying your ass off until 5 A.M. for weeks. Hooray. 

A sudden ring of the doorbell awoke you from your senses. Huh, it did arrive earlier than you expected. You scooted towards the door and twisted it open. There lay a box wrapped in tape, a sticker with the words ‘fragile: handle with care’ shone in bright yellow. 

You picked it up and shook the item. It was lighter than you expected. How the heck did a 700 page book become as light as a diary? Did they send you the wrong thing? Crap. You scoured the whole box to find neither details about who the recipient nor who the sender was. 

Oh, well. Did that mean you could keep whatever was inside? You grinned. Opening up the box, you find out it was a vivid red book entitled:

Ultimatum Wishes: The Ultimate Spellbook for Summoning Demons! All your wishes will come true! Follow the instructions inside. 

Yeah, right. Like you could summon a demon to send you a trillion yen.

(apparently, doubt didn’t stop you from trying.)

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

First of all, what the actual fuck. 

Your curiosity got the best of you. The instructions were pretty easy; sugar, salt, dirt, water, a jar of mayonnaise, a drop of blood— basically, the usual ingredients for summoning demons. Like that’s shitting normal? You had to mix them all together and spread them into the circle you drew on earlier. 

Second, did you really summon a demon?

You were obviously not in your dorm room. It was bigger, darker, and colder to what you were accustomed to. After saying a stupid chant, you make a wish and boom! demon comes to you. So the instructions said. 

It was a joke, really. You never thought the book was actually real! Once you said your wish, a bright light flashed and... you were here. A basement like room devoid of light, making your fingers the only things you could see at the moment. 

You were sprawled on your back, staring at your hands. If only your eyes could adjust to the light then you would be on your merry way to finding the exit. Except, that you didn’t really need to adjust. The lights opened with a flash and you were met with red eyes:

“Took you long enough, brat!”

Lastly, who the hell was this?

The moment you and this miniature bomb exchanged looks, and he realized that you weren’t the person he was hoping for, the man grabbed the collar of your shirt lifting you high up to the ceiling. 

“How the fuck did you get here stupid human? Pretty gutsy of you to just waltz in like you own the place, hm?” He growled, slightly shaking you with every syllable he uttered. 

You barely registered it, you-know before you were lifted up, but this person in front of you was terrifying. He radiated waves of “answer properly or i’ll rip you into shreds” and you didn’t want to die.

(not at least before smacking this crappy brute.)

“Put me down you—you crappy dog! Treat me nicely and I’ll tell you everything,” You choked. 

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re really haggling with me now, maggot? The last time I checked I could easily squeeze the fucking life out of you—”

“T-The book! Shitty book! Followed it and I’m here!”

And with that you were dropped onto the floor. You yelped upon impact, rubbing the area of your neck with your fingers. That hurt.  Your eyes hovered to your assailant and saw his frustration building up. Hoo, a little bit more and he’d be on fire. 

“...How’d you get it?” 

“Sent to my doorstep. D-Didn’t think it was real I thought—”

“You opened it knowing it wasn’t yours?”

“Oh, no you aren’t! Don’t blame me for your shitty mistake in the first place!”

“Watch your tongue, human.”

You sighed. Everyone knew you were someone who wouldn’t back down from a fight, but your senses told you otherwise. There was a fine line between pissing him off and stabbing you in the heart, you knew you were likely closer to the latter part of the scale. 

“Fine. Whoever that package was sent to, it came to me instead. Why am I here?”

He contemplated for a while, searching for the right words to spout out. Oh God no. Were you brought here as a sacrifice? You shook your head. Anything but that! Sweat dribbled down your forehead. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“...to kill...”

Yeaph. And with that, you blacked out. 

(imagine, fainting from your own demolition. oh, you hope you didn’t actually break a bone or two.)

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

You awoke to a strange tapping noise, more like a smack, and groans of infuriation. The vivid colors of black, pink, and yellow caught your attention, making you stare in awe. Was that Mario Kart...?

The clicking sound came from the blonde who sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes drawn to big television screen in front of him. While you were on a black couch around three hands away from the man. Seemingly, he could sense your tiny movements as you sat up, compelling him to chuck a controller at you. 

“You gonna play or what?”

Huh? You took the object, feeling the texture in your hands. It’s been a while since you held a controller; even longer since you played a game at all. The game home screen flashed, the cursor hovering over the “new game” button. He clicked it forcing the game to switch into the character screen. 

The man picked Bowser. Ah, not surprising. You grinned as you chose Princess Peach.

The game began immediately after and you thought, wow. You sucked at this game! Your cart hit track walls, bounced on boulders, special items that you sent managed to hit you instead. Rigged, this must be rigged! Just because the last time you played the game was ten years ago, doesn’t automatically mean you were shit at it.

Your companion thought differently.

“You’re crappy at this game.” He sneered.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just the first game! A warm-up, you’ll see.”

And yes, he did see. See you fail round after round, time after time, the twenty games you played seemed to only prove your awful skills at a simple multiplayer game. You groaned. How was it possible to lose this much? Even the computer controlled characters beat you senseless. 

Gently placing the controller on the sofa, you wrapped your arms around your knees. Was this a test? A test to see whether if you were worth killing? Oh boy, you would have been slaughtered at the first playthrough. 

“Are you going kill me now?” You murmured. 

If this was how you were going to go, at least you had fun. Well, you did lose more times than you could count. But hey, it was enjoyable. 

“Ha. You think I’d let you go that easily?” He stood up, turned and grabbed the controller. “You made a pact with me, and now you’re gonna run away?”

His other hand reached for your chin and pulled it up, your eyes meeting his. 

“What’d you wish for, princess?”

alright. so that’s the prologue! thank you for reading. i’ll have the chapter one ready soon. so pretty much, what happened was: you received a package. bored as you were followed the instructions and summoned a demon. except, you were actually summoned somewhere else to bakugo no less. 

the introductions come on to the next chapter!! please leave a like if you like it aaaaa it would mean alot ;;;;

[skitzo-kero]

Lost but Found

Chapter 1: Beacon of Hope ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author’s Note: This is going to end up being heavy fic that involves a lot of horrible content, most of which is dealt to a minor and the recovery from it. If you’re not good with handling this sort of content I highly suggest avoiding this.  Trigger Warnings: Violence/Harm to a minor, non-descript non-con, blood, childhood bullying, thoughts/wishes for suicide. (If I miss any that people think is needed please please let me know so I can add it) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One, two, one, two. Step by step the line of three children walked along the log over the river. Suzu knew they weren’t supposed to be in here, but Katsuki Bakugo had assured her and Izuku Midoriya that it was fine. She focused her attention onto his light blond hair, ignoring the dread filling up her stomach--

Pressure. Pressure on her stomach holding her in place. A new bruise would be sure to form, despite this she could not bring herself to struggle or thrash, the metal digging into her body keeping her still for the man over her. A sharp push to her abdomen pushed the air out of her, causing her mouth to open to gasp for air. 

She laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe because of the two boys in front of her, having just put on the most ridiculous impromptu play for her, just because they found their best friend crying alone in the park. Still laughing she pulled the other young children close to her as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. 

Her eyes hurt from the consistent path those salty streaks had run down from the corner of her eyes back towards her ears. Pink eyes stared up at the ceiling as she tried to ignore the warm blood pooling around her sides. Long nails still dug into her skin, eliciting more of the crimson ooze to surface. 

Her body shook, long pale green locks a matted mess as she stared in fear up at the blond boy. His smile filled his eyes with a look of malice as the young girl stood in front of Izuku, the boy on the ground with a bleeding nose. He looked so cocky, so unregretful for harming someone who just the other week had been his best friend. Uncaring as he told Suzu, the girl he used to try and keep smiling, that she was just as useless as Izuku. That the quirkless duo deserved each other. Then there had been a bright light and the sound of a loud pop before she was blown back by the young boy’s quirk, blood trickling from somewhere on her face as she blacked out. 

Darkness began to creep in as her body started to get cold. Has it finally happened? Has death finally come for her? A small smile began to creep onto her face, her eyes tearing up once more as a bright light filled the center of the encroaching shadows. Muffled voices moved about, the pressure on her joints were removed and she felt like she was floating. The reaper had come for her it seems. She let out a shaky breath causing the form in the light to look down at her, brows furrowed in worry and concern, brilliant blue eyes locking onto her as the darkness took her. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The bright light returned and the girl immediately felt panic fill every cell in her body. She had not died, she had only been moved. Not feeling any holding her down for once Suzu began ripping at the instruments in her arms and throat, if she could get out maybe she could find someone who could help--

“Whoa whoa easy now!” Strong hands clasped around her wrists and stopped her from fully removing anything from her body. She did not see the frown that formed on his face or the pain that rippled through his blue eyes as she had immediately gone rigid, her eyes screwing shut, and the most sorrowful whimper of defeat left her. Mirio eased the grip on her, gently rubbing his thumbs the rapidly beating pulse beneath his pads. “You’re in the hospital, it’s okay… no one is going to hurt you but I can’t let you hurt yourself by accident.” He tried to explain with a softer tone, an anger burning in his chest for those who had hurt this girl as she began trembling. Cautiously he released her wrists, his expression not shifting as she didn’t move, staying just as she had been just a moment ago. All he could do was sit by her side and hope that maybe she would realize he would not harm her if the two stayed like that. 

Mirio felt his heart breaking with every fearful noise that came from the girl as the doctors had to come in to do their work, but even more so did the spark of anger start to grow as the hours passed and yet no one from her family had arrived yet. 

The Nighteye Agency had been buzzing for the past few days now. The group of heroes were preparing for a raid on a warehouse that was suspected to be holding a trafficking ring. Sir Nighteye himself approached his youngest team member with apprehension. He worried about what LeMillion may see in those walls but the blond had been sure he wanted to go, wanted to help those people. 

“LeMillion,” Nighteye called to the young male as he got closer, “I need you to do something for me.”

Mirio’s features grew dark as he recalled the conversation. Missing persons were suspected to be among the victims, that much was obvious, but the pro had told him to focus on saving the victims rather than taking down any guards or villains. Because the victims were most likely going to be minors. 

Dead. Gone. Mangled. Mirio felt sick as he went from room to room. It became clear that word of the raid had started to spread and the people in charge had ordered their men to kill the victims and then themselves. All of the bodies had been piling up, and then, just when he felt like this mission had been a failure some hope seemed to come forth. 

He didn’t think, he didn’t want to. So many people were dead and here was a man forcing himself onto a young girl while her life slipped away with every drop of blood that fell to the floor from deep lacerations trailing from her chest down to her abdomen. Mirio wasn’t sure if he left the man alive or barely hanging on, just that he laid crumpled on the floor as he shouted for someone to contact paramedics as he worked off the girl’s restraints. She did not seem worried as she was lifted from the steel table, nor did she utter a sound as the metal restraints were removed from her knees, elbows, and neck. She seemed at peace… and then she passed out. 

Since then Mirio had stayed by her side in the hospital, praying to whoever listened that she would pull through. That he had actually saved someone. At first he had been relieved when her eyes began to flutter open. Only to be replaced by dread and sorrow as her entire body reacted in terror. 

The police were finally called in once the girl had been approved by the medical staff for questioning and the blond didn’t forget how her body tensed and her eyes blew in fear at seeing those men. 

The blond man had been so quiet, so still. Suzu was not sure if he was waiting for her to act again or if his words had been real. Her mind raced, battling her rampant fear and meek hope as she struggled for a conclusion. Her hope started to surge more as the blond’s voice attempted to sooth her and kept promises that no one was hurting her. He spoke true as the people in coats came in and soothed the pains that jolted through her body.

When the police came in Suzu allowed her eyes to open and flick her gaze to them. Her blood ran cold as she recognized faces, the machine to her left beeping in time with her racing heart. At first she did not register what they were saying. Something about statements and evidence gathering, but what rang clear was when they asked the blond to step out. 

“NO!” Her voice came out so clear, so full of conviction, so full of terror at the thought of being left alone with these men. She did not know this man but Suzu knew that, for now, she could trust him. Slowly, all eyes turned towards her. The police were a mix of confusion and anger, but the blond was full of surprise and some sort of light she could not figure out. “N-no… I…” Her voice started to falter, so much disuse left it hoarse and soft. Her eyes could not seem to settle one any one figure in the room. A few moments later they finally settled on her lap, where her hands were bunching up the sheets covering her body. “I want him here…” She could barely speak above a whisper now, too worried that the police would insist, that he would only assure her and leave regardless of her plea. 

The policemen shared a look but did not push the matter, especially with seemingly innocent challenge that raged in the hero’s blue eyes. 

“Alright, if you’re okay with him being present as you give a statement.” The officer in front spoke as they all surrounded the bed. 

He had already seen her on death’s door, exposed to the world like an object to be used for nothing more than pleasure, yet not once had he brought it up or tried to make her talk. Suzu felt sure that he could be there with her, what she was not sure of was how much she could say. Tentatively, she nodded and thought carefully of her words, how to spin the tale so avoid the most future consequences. 

Ten year old Suzu Miyaki had finally had enough. Between losing one of her best friends to his own ego, watching the other take the abuse, and the harsh reality of her home life she had finally snapped. She would not take it anymore. Collecting what few clothes she had, the young girl slipped out of her bedroom window and ran away from home. That same night ended up being what caused her downfall. 

She had only planned to leave for a few days, just enough to get some space and clear her head. She didn’t think twice when the hero had approached her, asking if she was okay. She didn’t think twice as she started to cry her heart out to this hero who had subtly started guiding her down the dark allies of the street.

He was no hero. He covered her mouth so she could not scream and forced himself onto the young girl, ripping her innocence from her for the first time of many to come. She had expected to be left like that, who would believe a child like her who had run from home? Instead she felt a heavy blow to her head. 

Waking up she wished, not for the first time in her life, that she were dead. 

Suzu felt her stomach start to lurch at the memories coming up. She took a few moments to steady herself as her old scars began to ache in remembrance. 

She could not recount the faces, so many became blurs despite being repeat offenders. No matter how hard she tried she could not recall any features that would be helpful if she were saved.

That’s what she told herself. That’s what she told the room. Her words stumbling over themselves as she continued recounting everything. 

She never stayed in one place, so often they would render her unconscious and move her. Sometimes a client would rent her out for extended periods of time, other times they had almost been discovered so they simply moved to a new warehouse. She never knew the lapses of time, she did not know how long she was gone. Only the date she had left her home that night.

A little five years. It had both felt shorter and infinitely longer than that. The police began talking again, saying that her parents should be on the way, that they were shocked to hear the news as a funeral had been given to their lost daughter. That she would need to come down to the station at a later date for photo evidence and any other questions investigators would have for her. 

The whole time she kept her head down, flinching as the lead officer patted her knee. 

“You did a good job Ms. Miyaki. I hope you have a speedy recovery.” 

Mirio watched the interaction and held himself back from swatting the officer’s hand away. Had he forgotten what she had gone through or was he just being careless? He turned his eyes back to the girl and his gut twisted in concern and something else. She had broken into a cold sweat, her eyes wide as she stared with shaking hands down at her lap. 

Something was not right, Mirio could feel it, but for now he would not press it. Instead he would wait and bring this up to Nighteye. Either way, he knew he had to keep checking in on this girl as his gut was telling him she was not safe yet. 

[edwardslostalchemy]

Explain the difference between endevour and Bakugou’s Behavior when it comes to treating others how they do. Thanks (:D)

This is tough because I’m so biased to believe they are both abusive. And I really just want to tell you with the Pam from the Office meme that they’re the same person. But I know that’s not entirely true. Both of these characters have inflicted damage to other characters. 

However, I acknowledge that Katsuki is still a teenager and I am holding out for hope that Horikoshi gives him proper development, that he can regret his actions, have a good redemption arc, apologize to Izuku, and be a better character. 

Endeavor is just. A monster. Because through more than 20 years, he never stopped to think that MAYBE just MAYBE he was hurting PEOPLE, and the people were his FAMILY, his WIFE, his CHILDREN. He hurt FIVE people. He didn’t even see them as people to begin with, just a means to an end. He didn’t even see Shouto as a child, he saw him as his ‘masterpiece’, an extension of himself, the perfect tool to use for his ambition. He saw his three older children as failures and neglected them, pushing them aside and separating Shouto from his siblings because he ‘lived in a different world from the one they lived in’. It is heavily implied and suggested that he has beat his wife and even on screen, the sounds that were made were obviously of him hitting her and she falls to the ground. And the way Shouto reacts, with a horrified expression while calling for his mother, is more than enough proof that that’s what happened in that one instant. He drove her to madness, so much so that she ended up maiming her youngest child, someone who had no fault in any of what was going on, but ended up on the receiving end of her meltdown, unfortunately. And what did Endeavor do? He put her in a mental hospital because she ‘hurt his masterpiece’. Not even ‘because she hurt my son/child’ or ‘because she needs help’. Because he hurt his masterpiece. His tool. We still don’t know what happened to Touya, but we do know that Endeavor had a hand in killing him, which is horrifying and so so terrible. How…how do you just. Move on from that? It’s no wonder Natsuo hates him so much. It’s no wonder Shouto has so many mixed feelings and doesn’t know what to feel. It’s no wonder Rei is so scared of him and doesn’t want to see him even if it’s been more than 10 years since she’s been there. Even Fuyumi has admitted that she feels the same way as Natsuo and Shouto. 

This is different from Katsuki. He didn’t do any of this and I really hope he never does. It would be unfortunate and sad. He has been compared to Endeavor, though, in terms of behavior, by All Might. However, he still hurt Izuku. He’s called him useless, he’s called him scum and has said he is like a pebble and like an insect he can crush if I remember correctly; he’s used his quirk on him to hurt him, and just by what we saw from the first episode, it says a lot about what he did. As little kids, he and his friends beat up Izuku. And then fast forward to middle school, he’s still bothering and hurting him. It’s quite exaggerated if I’m being honest, but still, Izuku is pushed against the wall and Katsuki stands over him threateningly. Their teacher doesn’t even do anything to stop it. After classes end, he burns Izuku’s notebook and tosses it out of the window and then tells him to kill himself. After the entrance exam for UA and they both get accepted, he pushes Izuku against a secluded wall and threatens him to not go to UA. He used so much of his quirk during the battle trial that All Might warned him not to use it or else he’d kill Izuku. And his response was that he wouldn’t get killed as long as he dodged. He still threatened him during their first semester and hit him in the face during their final exam. We don’t get to see throughout the years the extend of the bullying, just glimpses of how Katsuki tells Izuku his quirk will never be as good as his, he would leave him behind, he’d push him down; but we get to see the aftermath and Izuku does not think of himself as worthy. He has self-esteem issues, he flinches whenever he is approached by Katsuki, although this is improving because he hasn’t been stepping back recently. Katsuki can’t attack Izuku anymore because Aizawa can stop him. It’s not because he felt bad. It’s because a teacher with the means to do it finally stepped in and went ‘nope’. Aizawa doesn’t reprimand him, but he stops him. Izuku is getting better at fighting back. Katsuki can’t push him around anymore. But it doesn’t mean he’s stopped yelling at him or has stopped hurting him. He still stabs him on the head to shut him up. He’s very disrespectful when it comes to OFA meetings (and really he’s disrespectful all the time). But the thing is that now, currently in the manga, he doesn’t have that chance to attack Izuku anymore. Which is GOOD. I still see his behavior as abusive because bullies are abusive. They still hurt people mentally, physically, and/or emotionally. 

The difference is that nobody was there to stop Endeavor, but someone was there to stop Katsuki. Endeavor took a hell of a long time to realize that what he did was not right and evaluated that his reasons for doing what he did were not really….I guess enough. Or wrong. Perhaps I’m not interpreting that scene correctly, where he is fighting High End and he’s thinking “that’s the reason….the reason…” and it pans over Rei, Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shouto. Endeavor is an ADULT who should have better judgement and better sense in treating people like people. He’s a certified Hero, but only acts heroically publicly. With his family? Not even close. He did it because he believed this was the best option for reaching his goal. But it was not an ethical option. Katsuki did what he did because his ego was inflated and people would tell him he was the best and his quirk was amazing, even by Izuku. Katsuki is a KID. And I really hope he gets better development. I really hope he stops hurting Izuku and starts treating him like a person and like a friend. (And I say this for Izuku’s sake, not his.) 

Now as far as how these two characters treat other people.

They’re both arrogant and proud, but they’re executed differently. Endeavor is arrogant in that he doesn’t want to join other heroes because he ‘is a very busy man’, as we saw when detective Tsukauchi requested his help to rescue Katsuki from the League of Villains. He also complained that All Might was getting the spotlight and not him. Why did he have to stay where he was when All Might was rushing into action? I am trying to translate this word to English, but what comes up is despot. He abuses power and oppresses others, most notably his family. However, because of his status, he is still rude and selfish with other people. His interactions with All Might are so tense. All Might goes to say hi and he’s like “is that it?” and walks away. And then he tells him how Shouto will beat him. It’s disgusting how he talks about Shouto as if he were a tool and not his son, and also he says ‘that’s why I made him’ as if Shouto is only worth being something to use instead of someone to cherish, i.e. a child. He’s beginning to atone, which is good. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because I cannot stand abusers and I myself have dealt with someone who is awful. Not on this level of asshole, but he’s still an asshole. Anyway, back to him. He allows Natsuo to tell him what he’s thinking, which is GOOD. This is something I like because he didn’t shut Natsuo down and Natsuo was able to speak what was on his mind. Fuyumi is probably the person he has….I don’t want to use the word fondness….that implies that he cares about her, and honestly, I still want to believe that despite his abusive nature, he can at least spare some care for his daughter. I don’t know what word to use, but he lets her have dinners and convinces him to bring his interns over. He’s also trying to show Shouto that he can be a better hero, one he can be proud of. And I understand that this is part of his atonement, but it does not arouse sympathy out of me. His interaction with Hawks is interesting. He’s rude and impatient and wants for him to get to the point. However, he did not blow up when Hawks gave him a major burn on live television. Although, in later chapters, he lets Hawks give him information and it’s good he allowed this because it was so crucial. 

Katsuki is different from Endeavor in that he does blow up on people. His personality is, you guessed it, explosive. And I understand that goes with his character. Endeavor is fiery…he is fierce… Shouto is warm and cold. Izuku is full of energy he cannot contain, bouncing off walls verbally and physically. So it makes sense that Katsuki is explosive. However, he yells and threatens and tells people to die. I’ve read a post explaining that him telling people to die is a common thing to say in Japan amongst kids. Perhaps if handled differently for Katsuki, it would be funny when it’s meant to be funny. But anyway, let’s go with his explosive nature. He blows up. He loses his cool so easily and is provoked instantly. He treats people like dirt, not gonna lie. I want to believe he’s getting better. But I can’t see it. It’s so hard for me to see it. Blowing up on people that see him as a friend, blowing up on Izuku, blowing up on his classmates. Constantly telling Shouto they are NOT friends even though Shouto thinks they are. I see he has not yelled at Momo, which is good, because if he were to do it, I would be out for blood. He’s not horrible to Kirishima, and he’s getting better? Like that bit where Kirishima was insecure and he told him he was strong, that was nice. I wish he would be that way with other people, too. The way he wanted to fight all the kids during the provisional license remedial course was something. And that line he said to the leader of the kids felt hollow, but at least he stopped yelling at the kids. He’s also not 100% insensitive, because he at least listened to Shouto when he said there’s other ways of reaching out to children that DON’T involve violence, and he thought back to when Shouto told Izuku about how he was abused. He is learning to cooperate, which is something I appreciate, although he is not perfect, as we saw when he joined the 1A band (thanks Sero). I would like for him to realize, though, that his behavior needs improvement. Or at least he needs to stop yelling at everyone and should direct this anger towards villains. 

So really Katsuki doesn’t give a damn about public image, but Endeavor does. Still, both are rude and brash and flaunt their power in front of other people. Endeavor literally does this simply by having his fire mask, mustache, and beard all the time when he is out. 

I hope this is enough/satisfactory for you, anon. I tried to stay objective, but again that was difficult given how much I hate both characters. If anyone wants to add on, feel free because I’m sure I missed something, but this is what I was able to put together.

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XI)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter XI/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Hey guys! It's been a while! Sorry about that. School's a killer. Thank you guys for being so patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

PS: The title of this chapter is a play on the phrase “the pot calling the kettle black”. I honestly didn't know what to name this chapter but I thought this fit the best and I was trying to be all creative lol

Chapter Warning: I guess a bit of blood?

Taglist: Edit*** Totally forgot to add this whoops DDX If you read this chapter ignore the tag lol******

@freedom-for-bum @reallyfuckingangrylatina @risarisarisaa @ashherssss @mels-heart @xa-dia @shanty-lol @amkxh @chims-kookies @fantasticapple @thalia-luna-hawthorn

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XI: The Human Calling the Wolf Beast

Staring at the cavernous hole between his legs was a reminder for Izuku how old and raggedy the outhouse was. Tall wooden walls closed around him. They were rotting with age as a green substance took over the wood’s natural gray color. Izuku had questioned how this place was still standing with the amount of snow storms they had over the months and even the spiders cuddled within their webs in the upper corners of the outhouse had deemed this place safe against the outside forces. The urge to sleep was still upon him that he had not yet realized he had emptied his bladder. He stayed staring into the abyss under him, the sights beyond it shrouded in darkness, he would not know of the amount of defecation huddled at the bottom, nor in this state, did he care.

With a quick shake of his cock in his hands, he stuffed it under the rims of his pants, lifting the waistline until it hugged just under his waist. He exited the outhouse, its door creaking loudly as soon as it was touched, and he kneeled in front of a pile of snow and began to lather his hands in it. It was something his mother taught him whenever there wasn’t any water around to wash his hands. He knew most men would’ve carried on without their hands ever touching water after using the bathroom, and he wanted to believe he wasn’t like most men as what his mother would’ve said. You’re not like most men, Izuku. He heard from time to time again usually whenever he helped her with cooking or cleaning, it wasn’t said as an insult but rather a delightful compliment, pleased at her son for what he has grown up to be.

He wondered what she was doing now. He left her without a word but left a note by the kitchen table under the constraints of a fork. Perhaps, she would read it and leave searching for him or would trust his judgement, ultimately trusting him. Whichever the case, Izuku knew his mother tended to be as soft as him (it was where he got it from), but he believed hidden behind that softness was uncontained determination and once she worked towards a goal, it would be completed with failures and all.

He had a similar outlook. His goal was to find you and so he did, but now he questioned what would come after. Would you still be able to come back to the village despite them declaring you dead?

Izuku sighed inaudibly as the snow crunched under his boots before he reached the backdoor of the cabin. He kicked his boots against the wooden floors, the snow falling from his hooves and left behind at the door. Unfortunately, the cabin didn’t have any lanterns on the walls of its hallway, so the trail of darkness continued to pour through the cabin. Izuku had thought ahead and the tray of a candle he left at the floor was picked up and relit by a match. He walked down the hall, past the kitchen while the floorboards creaked under his weight and in between the bathing room and the kitchen was his room, its door was left ajar. Right across his room was your room and before he could retire for the night, he heard faint sounds coming from behind your door.

At first, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure about a man going into a woman’s room in the late of night. Yes, he grew up with you and there were plenty of days where he slept in your room as a child and vice versa but now as adults, as sexuality buds, even being in close proximity of a person’s room of the opposite sex was a little nerve-wracking.

He was about to abandon the idea to check up on you, already grasping his doorknob and pushing his door open until:

“H-Help…!” A terrible shriek had come.

It wasn’t a second longer until Izuku threw your door open. He expected the worst, like a robber had snuck in while he was using the bathroom or perhaps that wolf from hell was back to torment you and him again. But instead, he stumbled upon you on your bed, tousled limbs in the air as if you were possessed. You were shrieking, tears drowning your face, and dripping onto the mattress as well as your blood that was oddly seeping through the bandages.

He called your name in distress, placing the candle down on a table before grabbing you up by your arms. You started fighting his hold, thrashing your arms to where it nearly hit him in the face. “Wake up! It’s a dream!” He sounded desperate, afraid that if he used any more of his strength that he would hurt you in the process.

“Katsuki…!” You began calling for the wolf from hell and Izuku’s heart sank. How could you still think of him in a positive light when he put you in this position? When he hurt you? He gulped, putting those thoughts behind him when your eyes had shot open. He assumed the fighting would stop, but your eyes being open wasn’t a signifier that you were awake. The screaming remained, the fighting remained, and the calling of a certain wolf’s name remained.

Izuku was suddenly reminded of a moment in time where you had woken up from a fright. Around the age of 5, you woke up crying, reaching out to a startled small Izuku besides you. You were aware you were awake, but you cried for your mother instead, even though she was already dead by that time. Young Izuku, as chivalrous as he was during that age, started to shush you, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back as you sobbed into his chest. It worked as a spell, quieting you down to whimpers as soft as Izuku’s whispers. “It’s okay, ____... I’m here. I’m right next to you…”

So, he held you close to his chest despite your thrashing and his hand held the back of your head, your hair fell between his fingers, and his lips softly pressed against your temple. He brought his other hand over your back, large fingers treading over your shoulders.

“Shh… I’m right here. I’m here…” His breath bounced against your heated forehead when he spoke, his voice smooth like pudding as he pressed his lips to your head again. And just like long ago, you settled down in his arms, returning his hug weakly, your fingers clutched at his back until his shirt crinkled in your grip.

No matter who you called for, as long as Izuku was there, he would embrace you until all was well again.

…

You have never seen the sky so blue before as it hovered over your body, infinite vastness of sapphire stretched past the horizon, beyond the mountains and hills below. The wind swooshed below you, whipping through your hair as it wildly hit your cheeks. It tangled within the air above you, moved by the force from below. Your stomach felt like it was floating in your body, weightless as it twisted and churned the feathery feeling that danced around in your midsection.

How long has it been since you were falling? You couldn’t recall, but it felt like eons since you were on the ground.

…

Izuku was up tending your wound for hours. Before he knew it, the sun had risen into skies covered with thick clouds and heavy snowflakes plummeted to the ground. The chattering of the doors and windows were a reminder of how strong this storm had grown overnight. The cabin could no longer keep the cold out as it was seeping through the tiny cracks between the walls. Already, Izuku could feel you shivering yet he did not know whether it was from the cold or the fever that developed overnight. He knew your wound was quite grave, but he didn’t know it would’ve resulted in a fever. The odd part for him was that no matter how much pressure he added or how tight he wrapped the bandages; your wound wouldn’t stop bleeding. At this rate, you would die from blood loss in just a few hours.

Izuku’s panic urged him to move swiftly, wrapping clean bandages for the umpteenth time around your arm. He was already running out of stock and soon decided it was time to go out to the nearest town to buy some more bandages, ointments, and hopefully stitches.

“I won’t be gone for long,” he whispered, bringing a hand to briefly brush your bangs off your forehead. It was devastating how some strands stuck to your skin because of your sweat. Your skin lacked your usual vibrant color and was left with a pale variant of it. The skin under your eyes were darkened, leaving a sickly appearance if one were to gaze at you. At times, you would wake up, spewing incoherent mumbles before falling back to sleep. It was like your body was desperately trying to conserve all of your energy to heal you, so you couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes.

Just as you grew sicker by the hour, Izuku’s hatred for Katsuki grew to new heights. He began cursing the wolf for what he has done to you. As much as he blamed Katsuki, he blamed himself for the lack of courage he had to save you from him. He should’ve been more protective of you when he started to notice your obsession with wolves. Maybe he could’ve convinced you not to pursue your curiosity and you being deemed dead by the village wouldn’t have happened. Regretting the past did nothing to the results of the present. And so, he would have to live with his guilt until you somehow recovered from this.

Izuku soon left you, throwing on his heavy coat stuffed to the brim with cotton and lined with sheep wool. He slipped on his boots that he left near the door of your room and grabbed a small pouch packed with his money off the table. He quickly made his way to the front of the cabin. Already, he could hear the whistling of the harsh wind outside blowing through the trees and against the cabin, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. His mind was already set on going, he risked his life once for you and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

The cabin door was thrown open by the force of the wind once Izuku had unlocked it. The snow began assaulting the wooden floors, piling on top of itself until it created tiny hills. Izuku panicked at the amount of snow that was already in the cabin and he threw himself outside to try to get the door to close.

But he didn’t get far as he was stopped by a figure that was standing just a bit from the cabin. Not even the snow pelting the ground or the fog lingering in the area was prominent enough to hide the beauty of the woman standing in front of him. Her skin was as pale as the snow around her while her cheeks were the opposite and tinted with bright pink. Her lips were small, her nose was small, but her eyes were large, bright, and rich in brown and her eyelashes worked as curtains for them. Her hair was in a bob that curled at the ends against her cheeks and the color of her hair reminded him of almonds. His favorite snack.

“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous!” He tried to yell over the howl of the wind, but it was impossible. The storm was too powerful. So, he grabbed the woman by her shoulders and ushered her inside the cabin and with all his might, he pulled the door against the wind and locked it shut, letting out a heavy sigh of relief when he leaned his forehead against it. He felt it was vibrating softly, just another reminder at how brutal the storm was. He thought this woman was crazy for being out there, but he assumed the worst. Maybe she needed help or didn’t have shelter from the storm. He was about to question her, but she spoke first.

“You’re Izuku, right?”

“H-How…?” His words faltered when he turned around to face the woman and spotted almond colored wolf ears sitting on top of her head. He blinked at them for a moment, questioning their appearance as they weren’t there when he first spotted her. He almost shrieked at the sight of them, but he held his composure, breathing deeply before he narrowed his eyes at her. There could only be one reason why a wolf would suddenly show up at this cabin.

“What do you want? You couldn’t possibly be here to see her.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” She wasn’t surprised at his hostility. He was human after all. “I wanted to see if she was still alive…”

Why do you care? Was what he wanted to say but he held his tongue for reasons struck by fear. She wasn’t as threatening as Katsuki, but she was still a wolf. “Of course, she is. But she’s hurt… I’m sure you know how. You were probably there.”

“Yes, I was.”

“I’m sorry, but I was going to go out and buy some medicine for her. So, if you would—”

“It won’t work.”

“What?”

“She won’t be healed by that.”

“What do you mean…?” Izuku hated the look on her face. How her brows knitted together and formed the creases between her eyes. It didn’t match with her beauty. She looked up at him like she was begging for him to hear her out. He found himself complying, no longer able to stand her expression. With a nod, he led her to your room and he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she saw you. The color of your skin spoke of your lifespan. At best, a day was all you had left.

“This is horrible…” Izuku heard her mumble as she squeezed her hands into fists. She couldn’t believe the drastic change of your appearance. Just a couple of days ago you were vibrant and gushing about Katsuki to her. Even though you were upset at him, she still saw the love blossomed in your eyes whenever you spoke of him. You always found a reason to talk about him even if it was just a rant. And the moments where you would suddenly daze off, she had no doubt in her mind that it was Katsuki filling your thoughts.

“How did you find us anyway?”

“Her blood. I followed the scent of her blood.”

“Ah—O-Okay,” Izuku scratched the side of his head. It wasn’t that he was confused but more taken aback by her response. It wasn’t everyday where you hear of someone tracking by the scent of blood. Wolves were truly different when compared to humans. “So… would you mind explaining what you meant before? Why wouldn’t medicine work for her?”

She sighed heavily, turning her large brown eyes on Izuku. “Katsuki—I’m sure you know—the wolf from yesterday? He—He’s special. He’s not like the rest of us. He’s the direct descendant of our ancestor and next in line as pack leader. Because of that, Katsuki inherited abilities from him. We call it ‘The Curse of Fenrir’.”

“The Curse of Fenrir…?” It sounded terrifying to Izuku, but it grew his curiosity.

“Yes, sometimes we just call it ‘The Curse’ but if a human gets hurt by Katsuki, any damage inflicted by his claws or fangs would never heal.”

“Never heal…?”

“At least not with medicine or on its own. Katsuki himself would have to heal the wound by cleaning it.”

“So, the only way for ____ to be healed is if that wolf does it.”

Ochako nodded, “I tried to convince Katsuki to do it but… he’s still upset about what happened.”

“She’s going to die any day now and he won’t heal her? I-I have to go convince him… I—” Izuku began gathering his things and before he could trudge past Ochako, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I have no doubt if Katsuki sees you, he’ll kill you. Right now, you should stay by her side. I’ll try and talk to him again—"

“I can’t just sit here and watch her die. I have to at least do something!”

“I’m not asking you to. Katsuki,” she tried to find the words with a brief bite of her lips. “Katsuki cares about her. He wouldn’t let her die. I know he wouldn’t.”

“This is the same wolf who did this to her. I refuse to believe I have to only rely on such a b-beast to save my friend.”

It was odd. Ochako the other day was calling Katsuki the same thing yet hearing it from Izuku had lit a small flame of anger within her. It didn’t feel like it was only towards Katsuki but towards her kind as a whole.

“Beast? You hardly know him, or us, matter of fact,” she spoke with a growl in her voice.

“After what he did, how can he be anything other than that?”

“You sound as if humans never acted irrational before. For all the havoc you guys cause, from destroying lands, nature, and my people, why aren’t you considering yourselves beasts?”

Izuku’s silence spoke volumes. He stared back at Ochako, stunned by her words.

“That’s because you humans only ever look at yourselves and never consider the differences around you. We may be ‘beasts’ but that doesn’t mean we don’t have emotions like humans. We live just like you, eat just like you, we have family like you. Katsuki getting angry for seeing a woman he likes in the arms of another man doesn’t make him a beast because I’m sure you humans would’ve reacted the same way.”

“I was only speaking of him.”

“Speaking of him is speaking of all of us.”

Izuku frowned. The anger in his eyes falter significantly and what was left was pure guilt about his words. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—"

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I’m just... tired of this divide. We’re practically cousins by species but it seems like we’ll never get along.”

“Maybe a lot of forgiveness and forgetfulness would do the trick?” Izuku shrugged his shoulders with a smile all too pure that it evaporated any anger she previously felt towards him. She had never seen a smile so kind, at least, from a human (other than you) that was directed at her.

“Probably, we’ll need a lot of it, for sure,” she laughed.

…

Katsuki had enough. It was easier to say that he could forget about you after your ‘betrayal’ but he found himself wondering about your wellbeing more than he would’ve liked. No woman had ever had this effect on him before. He was always able to forget about them. But for you, he couldn’t help but feel attached to you. Even as he laid on the sheep wool bedding, turning around he half expected to see you asleep by his side. But when he saw nothing but the cave’s walls ahead, he knew he could no longer handle being away from you.

Katsuki knew of his abilities and he knew when he had slashed you, it was possible that it would’ve been the last time he saw you alive. His stubbornness kept him from chasing after you. In fact, he was afraid to admit that at that time, he believed you were better off dead than in the arms of another man. It scared him greatly at how attached he felt to you that he would rather wish for your death than for you to be away from him.

But he came to realize at that moment when Ochako stormed out of his cave in tears after his threats and the air of his cave was reduced of your scent the longer you were absent from it, he questioned if this was truly how he wanted to live. A life without you seemed impossible when you were with him and now it could very much be his reality.

…

“I’ll try to convince Katsuki. I know he won’t let her die.”

Izuku was seeing Ochako to the door. His eyebrows furrowed at the sound of the raging wind outside. The door was chattering at the force of it. “Are you sure you’ll be okay traveling in this storm?”

“Yeah, of course,” she chuckled softly. “I’m a wolf, remember?”

It didn’t matter what she was, Izuku was still worried. He leaned against the wall and buried his hands within his pants pockets. “I know, still, be careful out there, Ochako.”

Ochako smiled. She never had someone so concerned about her wellbeing before especially not a human. All they did was run at the sight of her or try to kill her but to have one worry about her even after knowing her capabilities as a wolf was a refreshing feeling. “I will be.”

Izuku gave her a small smile before she left into the blistering weather and faded into the fog. It was a hassle closing the door but Izuku managed with his strength and locked it before he retired back to your room.

…

As the night started settling into the day, the storm had reached its peak. The winds were blowing at high speeds capable of knocking anyone off their feet. Fog and snow obscure all sight as no one could barely see a few inches in front of them. Walking outside was a death sentence for any human.

But not for wolves.

Katsuki hiked through the forest as if he weren’t phased by the forces of nature. The winds may be slowing down his speed, but the fog and snow only slightly obscured his vision. Even his sense of smell was still functioning normally as he followed the scent of blood that was being carried with the wind. It was sweet and awfully familiar, and it made his mouth water with desire. Katsuki knew exactly who it belong to.

He followed the scent until it led him to a cabin that was slowly being buried by the snow. A quarter of the front door was already submerged in it, but it didn’t stop Katsuki from figuring out another way in. He followed where the scent of blood was most prominent to the side of the cabin and there was a window in which he effortlessly lifted open and climb inside.

His crimson eyes had zeroed in on nothing in the room but the person lying in bed, pale and nearly lifeless. That person was you. He refused to believe that’s what you’ve become because of him. You were a person so vibrant and beautiful that it could nearly make Katsuki cry at the sight of your presence and now you lacked the light that made you shine—that made Katsuki love you.

He walked to you. The wooden flooring creaked under his weight with his slow steps. Even as he tried to walk without making a sound, being gentle was just one thing Katsuki couldn’t do correctly. He regretted the moment he got closer to you because he saw the discoloring around your eyes and the cold sweat damping your pale skin. You were lying on your back without any covers and the wound on your arm that was wrapped in bandages were being soaked with your blood. The sweet smell lingered around the room no doubt making Katsuki’s mouth water, but he was too deep in his sorrow to act on his urges.

What kind of lover was he to hurt you like this? To make you suffer until you were tethering in and out of the underworld? He yearned to see your smile again, your smile that made his heart flutter in ways it had never before, to look at him with your bright eyes that embodied the feeling of love only for him, to have you in his arms again, so small and fragile yet fit perfectly within them. And the sound of your voice when you would call his name had him wishing he could listen to it on repeat.

Katsuki’s hands formed into fists, his claws dug into his palms so hard that it punctured his skin and his blood slipped between his clenched fingers and fell upon the floor. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad that he couldn’t see how he deserved to stay with you. You didn’t deserve someone like him. Someone who would hurt his lover because he couldn’t control his anger. How could he possibly protect you if he couldn’t protect you from himself?

A low growl had sounded from him and already the wound on his hands had healed up on their own. Katsuki sat on your bed and grabbed your injured arm. He unwrapped the bandages and revealed the gash that showed no signs of healing. He grimaced at it, not because of its grotesque appearance but because he was the one who had caused it.

He didn’t hesitate to drag his tongue on your wound, gasping and growling at the delicious taste that had his saliva spilling from his lips. But he couldn’t enjoy it like the last time he had taste your blood. He moved desperately, diligently with a goal to cure you of this curse.

You, on the other hand, had stirred in your long slumber with your eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting lips. Your pale complexion became flush in color, panting and mewling at the feeling of Katsuki’s tongue against you. He couldn’t tell if you were in pain or pleasure, but he couldn’t stop the fuzzy feeling building within his loins. You moaned softly, breathlessly and Katsuki glanced at your face with his glowing red eyes as he licked and licked until his face was drenched in your blood.

“K-Katsuki… aahn…” Katsuki could see it. He could see the soft rolling of your hips. It was not pain you were feeling. It was far from it.

Yet he continued to lick, ignoring the desire rumbling within him. After how badly he treated you, you still thought of him as a lover. He was still someone you thought of the moment you felt pleasure and that stirred something within him that he couldn’t quite name.

He growled softly, nearly losing himself in your moans. He cleaned your wound until there was nothing but three discolored scars left. He made sure it was clean of all your blood. He wasn’t going to leave one drop of it on your skin. And when he was done, he pulled away and found you panting, flushed, and mumbling his name deliriously in your slumber. He soaked in your appearance knowing that this was going to be the last time he’ll ever see it. He decided back at his cave that he was going to heal you and then leave you. It was the best form of action he had to take for your sake. You weren’t safe with him.

Though it was a struggle for him to leave you. Your complexion was returning to normal and your breathing was finally in control. You were already starting to look like yourself again. Even the feel of your skin underneath his palm when he had reached out to caress your cheek was reaching normal temperatures. Katsuki whispered your name. It sounded so soft that it could break before it reached anyone’s ears, but it was also weighed with guilt, love, and hesitation. For once in his life, he was unsure. Can he actually live without you?

“I’m sorry…” He grunted out when he had hovered over you and pushed his forehead against yours, noses touching and lips barely brushing against each other. He repeated those words until he was satisfied as his face contorted into one of pain with knitted eyebrows and gritted teeth. He ripped himself off of you with a growl and still he was unsure. But hesitation didn’t stop him from turning his back on you. He was leaving. He had to.

Katsuki dragged himself to the window and he rewarded himself with one final glance at your sleeping form to burn you in his memory.

But what he didn’t expect to see was you staring right back at him with those beautiful half-lidded eyes that he ached to see.

“Shit.”

Oof. 

I'll be honest, I love-hate writing this chapter and I'm not sure why lol WELP I'm excited for the next chapter cause It's gonna be awesome. I'm tired of this angst, aren't you guys? Thank you guys so much for reading!! Until next chapter, loves.

[citrinediamondeyes]

A Beautiful Mess: Chapter One (My Hero Academia)

Here is my chapter story I’ve been working on! Hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Izuku Midoriya finds himself in detention, of all places. There, he meets an interesting girl with a cute smile and a tough exterior. She offers to teach him how to fend for himself, and with her help, he starts to realize that maybe he isn't useless after all... [Quirkless AU]

Rating: M 

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Mentioned/Implied Self-Harm, Mentioned/Implied Childhood Abuse, Severe Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Scars 

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugo Katsuki, Uraraka Ochaco, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shouto, Asui Tsuyu, Yagi Toshinori/All Might, etc. 

Pairings: Izuocha (slow burn)

Links:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13594271/1/A-Beautiful-Mess https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204889

"Just in time, Midoriya," Mr. Aizawa droned, looking up from his roll call list.

Izuku, his face beet red as everyone's eyes rested on him, plunked down in the seat closest to him. Imagine being late for detention. He was already enough of a failure as it was...

"Bakugo, Katsuki."

Izuku heard a growl from the back of the room, and shivers went up his spine.

"I'll take that as a 'here'. Midoriya, Izuku."

"Here," Izuku whispered.

"Uraraka, Ochaco."

"Here."

Oh. There was a girl sitting next to Izuku! Or, well, Izuku sat next to her. Izuku peeked out from under his curly green-black hair, and he only caught a glimpse of auburn hair before his attention was brought back to the front.

"Now, I don't really care what you do for an hour. Just don't leave the room and don't disturb me."

Izuku and the rest of the students looked on in curiosity as Mr. Aizawa brought out a sleep mask and tipped his chair back, planting his crossed ankles on the desk.

Izuku blinked for a solid five seconds, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, before giving up and grabbing his homework out of his bag. Might as well get started on this mountain of homework...

He tried to focus on his Calculus - he really did, but he could feel Kacchan's eyes on him from the back of the room. To calm down, he started doodling on the side of his assignment, stark black lines against his messy scrawl. He directed his thoughts to making the lines smooth and the strokes confident, even though he himself was not. Still though, his hands were trembling, and his pencil slipped in his sweaty grip. It rolled onto the floor next to the girl's foot, and he paused for a moment, fear making his mind irrational and paralyzed. The girl - whose name was Ochaco, Izuku remembered distantly - swooped down and picked up the pencil casually, leaning over to give it to him.

"Oooh, is that All Might?" she asked in a hushed voice. Izuku flinched before nodding as his left hand went to the back of his neck nervously. He glanced at Ochaco quickly, taking her in. Her caramel brown eyes were wide with interest and framed with dark lashes, and her thin lips were pulled into a small but genuine smile. She had rosy cheeks that didn't look like makeup, and her choppy bangs suggested a self-done job. She had a small silver hoop through the left side of her nose and metal piercings going up her right ear that glinted in the sunlight from the far windows. Her leather jacket was worn through at the elbows, cuffs, and collar, and her fishnet-and-combat-boot combo made Izuku mentally flush.

Oh no. She's cute. And kind of... intimidating?

His eyes trailed down to the hand that was still offering his pencil. Her hands were small and delicate-looking, with small silvery scars running across the top. Her fingertips were scarred pink.

Izuku gulped quietly and looked back at Ochaco's face, hoping she didn't notice him blatantly staring at her. She was looking at him, too, an unrecognizable look on her face, (Did she notice the scars on his arm? She had to have noticed his bruised eye...) but it didn't make Izuku feel threatened or self-conscious like it normally would have. Instead, he felt a strange kinship to this girl with the scarred hands. He slowly reached out and tugged his pencil out of her grip, giving her a small smile.

"T-thanks."

She blinked dazedly before smiling brightly, her eyes resting on his. Izuku's stomach swooped - that grin was directed at him?

"No problem. But yeah, that drawing is really good! So you're an artist?"

"Oh, I mean, I wouldn't say that," he chuckled nervously. He remembered that she recognized his drawing, though, and latched onto that. "Y-you know who All Might is?"

"Yeah, my friends and I play his video games! They're really fun - especially the one where he goes into space?" Her eyes lit up, and Izuku found himself smiling along with her, feeling more comfortable by the second.

"Yeah, that one has great graphics. I love his teammates' powers, too! Thirteen's Black Hole is so powerful!" Izuku exclaimed, tapping his eraser on the desk mindlessly.

"Oh my gosh, Thirteen is my favorite!" she declared, still keeping her voice low while pressing her hands to her chest passionately. "I just know she would beat even All Might in a fight."

"No way," Izuku snickered quietly. "That's why he is called All Might. He is 'all mighty'."

He had no idea where this bravery was coming from to tease this enigma of a girl, but seeing the competitive spark in her eyes was worth it.

"All he does is punch stuff and tackle things with brute force. Thirteen, while a more defensive hero, takes more strategy to play. Her intelligence would beat out his brawn any day. And besides, ya can't out-punch somethin' that is pullin' ya inwards!" Ochaco finished excitedly, her tongue sticking out.

Oh gods, did an accent come out during that last bit? So cute.

Izuku's face took on a look of determination - sure, this girl might be attractive, but he had to defend his favorite hero All Might!

"See, now that's where you're wrong. All Might doesn't just 'punch stuff', he can use his moves to cause the air to move around him. This can be done in precise kicks or powerful punches. When playing him, you have to use his power in different percentages to make sure not to harm any bystanders and cause the least amount of damage to the environment. He is always calculating. Also, if you noticed, every time he goes into battle, he says his catchphrase, 'I am here!' He recognizes how important it is to be a symbol of hope for the people. I recognize this is a game and not reality, but this was done on purpose. All Might knows what he is doing. I think - "

Ochaco cut him off with laughter, and Izuku froze, feeling shame wash over him. Ah, he did it again. He got weird and did a mutter-storm.  She probably thought he was a total loser. He felt his head droop, and he whispered out, "S-sorry."

Her giggles abruptly stopped, and he felt her eyes on him for a second before she leaned closer over the aisle and spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Hey, no, I'm the one who's sorry. I was just laughing because you really know your stuff, and you were talking so fast, and it just really surprised me!" She smiled sadly and looked like she was about to touch his arm but instead fiddled with her long side bangs. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel bad for liking something."

She was apologizing to him, the massive screw-up?

Embarrassingly, Izuku felt his eyes swell with tears, and he turned away, wiping them back quickly. He swiveled back to face her and gave her a wobbly smile. "T-thanks," he said gratefully, his voice quiet.

She smiled again, this time a soft one, before turning back to his math homework. "Hah, isn't this for Mr. Ecto's class?"

"Y-yeah. Probably will need to redo it now."

"I always have the worst time in that class," she grumbled, her lips going into a slight pout, and Izuku felt his cheeks getting pink.

"What's wrong? Maybe I could... help?" Izuku asked, wincing at the end. He didn't want to sound presumptuous, but math was his best subject...

She lit up again. "Really? That'd be great. I'd been going to Momo for help, but she's been nagging me lately. Something about her not wanting to condone me 'breaking rules'. She's a good pal, but it's been annoying to say the least," Ochaco blew some hair out of her face while giving Izuku a silly smile.

"B-breaking rules?" Izuku asked curiously, before realizing that might've been rude and going red.

"Yeah. I mean, how'd ya think I ended up here?" Ochaco giggled, pulling out her math homework and laying it out on her desk. She scooted her desk closer to him and pointed with her own mechanical pencil at a few circled problems.

"These are the ones that are just killing me."

"Okay, let's see what we can do," Izuku cracked his knuckles, feeling more in his element, and leaned over to start reading the problems.

The hour passed by quickly, with Izuku and Ochaco muttering and quietly discussing Calculus. As Mr. Aizawa's phone alarm went off, the two were packing away their books and discussing the current All Might and Nighteye comics.

"To be honest, I think Nighteye is going to confess his love for All Might," Ochaco confided, making Izuku choke on a laugh.

"E-EHH?"

Before Ochaco could respond, Mr. Aizawa stood up and threaded a hand through his long, dark hair, yawning. "Alright kids, good job at keeping it down and civil. Some of you, I'll see tomorrow, like usual." He looked pointedly at Ochaco, and she smirked, waving her scarred fingers.

Geez, what did she do to get so much detention?

Izuku was so focused on this exchange that he didn't notice someone coming up behind him until it was too late.

"You're in my way, nerd," Katsuki growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ah, sorry, Kacchan," Izuku whimpered, losing all confidence and shrinking into himself as he practically scuttled out of the way of the blonde boy. He felt Ochaco's gaze on him and felt ashamed, but, well, it was better for her to see him for who he truly was before he got too attached, anyways.

"Why not just go around him?"

Izuku's eyes widened, and he glanced at Ochaco in horror.

"You got something to say?" Katsuki turned his attention to the girl, who was staring at him like he was something she stepped in with her boot.

"You heard me. There are plenty of other ways to get to the door. You actually had to go out of your way to go up the aisle to pass by his desk," Ochaco explained, all previous warmth in her voice gone.

Katsuki's left eye twitched for a second, before he rushed over to her and stood in her space, looming over her. She met his gaze fearlessly.

"I'd be careful what I'd say, Round Face."

"Oh no, I'm so scared of a stereotypical guy with anger issues," Ochaco droned, her brown gaze almost looking bored. As Katsuki seethed, she scoffed. "See, you aren't going to do anything." She looked at Izuku, her eyes softening slightly. "Let's go."

Startled that she wanted to go anywhere with him and eager to get out of the tension, he hurriedly grabbed his backpack and scrambled to get out the door.

"Wait, just a minute, Deku," Katsuki grabbed at Izuku's shoulder, his grip making Izuku wince.

"You might be able to hide behind Uraraka right now, but just know there's nothing you can do to stop me from kicking your ass the next time you are alone," Katsuki threatened, his voice low and truly angry.

"Alright, that's enough. Geez, kids these days are so dramatic," Mr. Aizawa said tiredly, pinching the area between his eyes. "Just go home, all of you, and for god's sake just leave each other alone."

Izuku wanted to scream out that it wasn't just dramatics, but pure fear kept his mouth shut as he robotically walked to the door. Katsuki grinned and ran a finger across his throat before walking in the opposite direction down the hallway. Ochaco grabbed his arm and tugged him down the hallway, releasing him after a moment. They walked in silence for a few seconds, reaching the outdoors before she cleared her throat.

"So, uh... that guy has some issues," she noted, kicking a pebble in the walkway.

Izuku could only shrug, his ears burning. At her questioning look, he looked away before explaining, "Kacchan is... complicated."

"Hah, that's a word for it..." she muttered. They let silence fill the space between them again.

"So, your name is Deku?"

"E-eh? N-no." Izuku looked at his feet, surprised he could feel even more shame than he was already feeling. "Deku is what Kacchan calls me to make fun of me. 'Defenseless Izuku.'"

"Oh," Ochaco said, and she almost sounded disappointed. "It just sounded like a nice name for you. Kind of like 'I can do it!', ya know?"

"O-oh." His face flushed pink. "D-Deku it is!"

"I can do it", huh?

"D'ya think he was really serious about beating ya up?" Ochaco's voice was light, but her face was serious.

Izuku laughed bitterly. "How do you think I got this?" He gestured at the shiner surrounding his left eye. "That's why I was in detention, after all."

Ochaco nodded grimly, saying nothing. Izuku wondered vaguely how long she was going to walk with him.

"Tell ya what. Let's make a deal. You help me with my math, and I'll teach ya how to fight!" Ochaco's hands where balled into fists, and her eyes were bright.

At this, Izuku looked up at her in shock. "EH?"

"Yeah! Come on. Notice how Katsuki didn't want to mess with me? It's because he knows I can hold my own. I'll teach you how to defend yourself, although it might not be street legal," she teased, "and you can teach me the difference between differentials and integrals!"

Izuku stared at her wordlessly. This tiny girl, who admittedly dressed like a punk rocker but was as bubbly and friendly as the day was long, knew how to fight - and in ways that weren't street legal???

She nudged him playfully with her black bookbag. The various pins on it jingled and clicked against each other. "So, whaddya say?"

He stopped walking to actually ponder her proposition. When he was honest with himself, he recognized that he couldn't live like this anymore. Dodging Katsuki day in and day out, being scared of even breathing the wrong way, lying to his mother and friends about being okay, hiding his scars underneath sweltering hoodies - it was exhausting. He didn't even know who he was anymore, besides a timid artist with a slight All Might video game obsession.

He wanted more. He now realized he might have that opportunity, or a chance at one, thanks to Ochaco's offer.

He looked up and met her slightly nervous gaze with a determined grin. "Let's do it."

[yurionice-secretsanta]

If it’s me you really seek

To @nooowestayandgetcaught From @singeiji

Hi! i hope you like the fic!!!

Title: if it’s me you really seek Rating: T Word Count: 3.4k Notes: wings/fairy au, canon compliant

Yuri is three when his Mama sits him down and tells him why they have wings that no one else can see.

Before tucking him in at night, Mama tells him a story. It’s always about a girl who can fly. She lives in the countryside with all of her fairy friends, and everyday, they go on a brand new adventure. But today, Mama tells him about the time the girl finds a boy in the woods.

“Her mother taught her to always be careful of strangers, but the boy was lost, and he seemed very nice, so she decided to help him anyway,” Mama says.

Yuri stares up at her, wide-eyed, captivated like he always is.

“What happened?” he asks, and he watches as Mama’s lips curl upwards in a smile.

She tucks his hair behind his ear and says, “It turned out that he was so nice, she decided to stay with him.”

Yuri’s eyebrows furrow.

“But what about her mother? And her fairy friends? Did she leave them?”

“Well, she did, but she made new friends, and she found a new family,” Mama says. “She got married to the boy and they had a baby together and she loved them both very much.”

“Just like you love me, Mama?”

Mama bends down to press a kiss onto Yuri’s temple.

“Yes, Yurochka, exactly how I love you,” Mama says. “You know why, my love? Because you are that baby, and I am that girl.”

Yuri’s breath catches and mouth drops open. “Does that mean we’re fairies, Mama?”

Mama’s smile widens. “Yes. That’s why we have wings, because we’re fairies who can fly.”

“Teach me how to fly, Mama!”

Yuri squirms, excited at the thought of it. He’s tried to, before, but even when he jumped as high as he could, he couldn’t follow the seagulls up to the sky.

But Mama shakes her head at him.

“You’re too young, Yurochka,” she says, and she reaches out to smooth the crease that appears between Yuri’s eyebrows. “But someday, Mama will teach you. We’ll fly together and we can show it to Papa.”

That night, Yuri dreams of flying above a forest. He dreams of his Mama and Papa all the way down on the ground, as tiny as a little kitty. They’re waving at Yuri, and Yuri waves back.

That night, Yuri dreams of flying towards the sun.

Yuri is five when his parents die in a house fire.

Yuri’s Grandpa lives all the way in the city. Yuri sleeps through most of the ride there, and when he wakes up, he’s on a bed he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t recognize.

His room back home was always so bright and warm, even at night, but this room is cold and lonely. The corners are dark and they scare Yuri. But he has no more Mama to tell him he’s alright, and he has no more Papa to hug him and protect him from the monsters hiding in the dark.

Yuri doesn’t realize that he’s crying until Grandpa is already shushing him, until he’s already wrapped in Grandpa’s arms.

It isn’t the same. Grandpa is bigger than Papa, and his hands are rougher. Grandpa doesn’t have wings like Mama’s and Yuri’s, so he can’t hide Yuri away behind them like Mama used to do.

But it’s still nice. Grandpa is warmer than the rest of the room, and he lets Yuri cry into his shirt. His voice is low like Papa’s and his words remind him of Mama’s.

And even though Yuri cannot sleep with his parents on either side of him like he used to when he was having a bad night, he sleeps that night with his head on Grandpa’s lap and his hand wrapped tight on Grandpa’s wrist.

That night, Yuri dreams being stuck on the ground while his Mama and Papa hover above him. He can’t see them clearly because the sun is too bright behind them, but he knows it’s them. He can hear them calling for him, telling him to come, but he can’t. Yuri doesn’t know how to fly; his Mama hasn’t taught him yet.

That night, Yuri dreams of being left behind.

Yuri is six when he discovers the ice.

The figure skaters on TV look like they’re flying.

They glide along the ice with their arms spread, and to Yuri’s eyes, they look like birds with their wings extended on both sides, riding on the air. They take off for their jumps—triple axel, quad lutz, double toe—and to Yuri’s eyes, they look like birds taking flight.

There’s one who Yuri can’t take his eyes off. His hair is long and grey, and he’s wearing a pale gray costume to match. There are frills along his arms and his torso that almost look like feathers when he spins, and when he jumps, he soars.

His name is Victor Nikiforov and Yuri wants to ask him how to fly.

That night, Yuri dreams of skating. He’s on the lake back home, and when he looks up, he sees that Victor is with him. Victor is holding his hand and pulling him around. His smile is wide and there’s gold around his neck.

“You’re doing so well, Yura,” he says, and Yuri believes him.

That night, Yuri dreams of hope blossoming in his chest.

Yuri is nine when he first meets the man who coaches Victor.

A lot of the other kids are scared of Yakov, but Yuri isn’t.

See, Yakov Feltsman looks like the angry dog next door who always barks at Yuri when he passes by. That same angry dog turns to putty when Yuri reaches through the gate’s bars and pets him, and Yakov is very much the same.

Yakov barks out corrections and commands, but his touch is gentle when he moves to adjust Yuri’s limbs and his eyes are warm when he tells Yuri that he did a good job. Yakov reminds Yuri of Grandpa, and that’s why there isn’t any way he could be scared of him.

Yuri was hoping to catch a glimpse of Victor at Yakov’s camp. He doesn’t, but it’s fine. Instead, he takes home the image of Yakov’s face, his lips set into a line and his eyes warm with satisfaction so, so close to Grandpa’s face when he tells Yuri he’s proud of his Yurochka.

That night, Yuri dreams again of flying. The wind is strong, but he doesn’t get blown away with it. There’s a string wrapped around his ankle. When he looks down, he sees Grandpa and Victor and Yakov, and they’re the ones holding him to the earth.

That night, Yuri dreams of smiling down at them.

Yuri is eleven when he finally meets Victor Nikiforov.

Victor looks nothing like he did when Yuri first saw him. His hair is cut shorter, his shoulders wider, his legs longer. He still soars when he jumps, but now that Yuri can see him up close, he looks cold, lonely. He wraps his arms around himself and holds on like he’s hoping it’s someone else’s touch. He smiles like a lie.

He’s sitting down when Yakov first introduces Yuri to his new rinkmates, and yet it still feels like he’s looking down on Yuri.

“You’re good,” he says, after he watches Yuri skate for the first time, “but you’re still young.”

When he walks away, it feels like a slap to the face. Crystal clear dismissal that starts a spark in the pit of Yuri’s stomach.

Victor is still beautiful when he skates, but Yuri doesn’t want to fly with him anymore.

That night, Yuri dreams of Victor skating in a stadium empty except for Yuri, sitting at the very back. It’s cold and it’s dark except for the spotlight that follows Victor around the rink. Yuri doesn’t think Victor knows he’s here. He doesn’t think Victor realizes that there’s anyone watching at all.

That night, Yuri dreams of what loneliness looks like as it pours from Victor and fills up the whole room.

Yuri is twelve when he learns his first program.

Yakov tells him not to overwork himself. Yakov tells him he shouldn’t practice his jumps yet. Yakov tells him he can’t sneak into the rink after-hours all the time.

Yuri doesn’t understand why he can’t skate every hour of every day if it’s what he wants. He doesn’t understand why Yakov won’t let him fly. So he doesn’t listen. He practices, even when Yakov is shouting at him. He skates, even when Yakov threatens to drop him as a skater.

Weill. If Yakov drops him, then Yuri will find someone else who will let him fly.

That night, Yuri dreams of flying. The sky is clear and the sun is bright as it beckons at him to come, my child, come to me. But when he tries, he finds that he can’t. When he tries, he finds a string wrapped around his leg that pulls him back down, further and further away from the sun.

That night, Yuri dreams of falling to the ground before he can even reach the sky.

Yuri is thirteen when he wins his first gold medal.

In the last few seconds of his skate, Yuri replaces his triple with a quad. He touches down, but he gets the rotations in, and he hears the audience gasp and roar when they realize what he’s done.

But that doesn’t matter to Yuri. To Yuri, all that he can think about as he stands here with his chest heaving and sweat dripping from his skin is that he’s finally gotten to fly.

Yuri is always cold these days, but today, he’s as warm as the last time he was in his Mama’s arms.

That night, Yuri dreams of being back home. He’s in his childhood bed, tucked in tight just the way he likes. Mama is sitting beside him, telling him a story about a girl who can fly.

That night, Yuri dreams of warmth.

Yuri is fourteen when he first sees Yuuri Katsuki.

It’s easy to sneak out of a hotel room when there’s no one guarding him, and since Yakov has to look after Georgi, Yuri has absolutely no trouble at all.

Yuuri Katsuki skates first, and he takes Yuri’s breath away. His costume is plain and he falls on most of his jumps, but he skates like it’s what he was born to do. When he moves, he is smooth, effortless. He is ethereal and otherworldly. He is extending his hand to the audience and telling them come and watch me, only me.

He makes Yuri want to skate. He makes Yuri want to fly.

That night, Yuri dreams of the time his Mama flew for him. She hovers up in the sky, her hair blowing in the wind, her wings wide enough that she covers the sun.

“It’s beautiful up here, Yurochka,” she tells him. “Someday, you’ll see this too.”

But when Yuri blinks, Mama is gone. In her place is Yuuri Katsuki, his hand extended to Yuri.

“Come, Yuri,” he says.

But Yuri can’t.

That night, Yuri dreams of failure.

Yuri is fifteen when he’s reminded that those who fly can fall.

Yuuri Katsuki places sixth in his first Grand Prix Final event.

Maybe Yuri should have expected it considering how Katsuki is so inconsistent. Or maybe Yuri should have expected it considering how everyone he thinks could teach him to fly seem to fall flat in the end.

Somehow, though, this hurts more than the last time. Yuuri Katsuki had yet to soar, but now he’s bent and broken. Now, Yuri can’t take his hand and learn with him.

Yuri gets angry. Then again, he’s more angry than not these days.

That night, Yuri dreams of skating Yuuri Katsuki’s program.

He falls.

He gets back up.

He falls.

He gets back up.

He falls.

That night, Yuri dreams of falling so far that he can’t get back up again.

Yuri is fifteen when he learns to rely on himself.

Lilia Baranovskaya is scarier than Yakov Feltsman could ever be.

She tells him that pain is beauty, and so Yuri reaches into the deepest, darkest part of himself and pulls out everything he can use to be beautiful. She tells him that his natural talent is nothing if he doesn’t work hard, and what Yuri hears is that his wings are nothing if he can’t use them.

She tells him that he needs to throw his past self away, that he needs to be reborn, and Yuri listens.

He dances and he thinks of the sky, coming closer and closer until it almost seems like it’s within his reach. He skates and he thinks of his wings unfurling around him, of his feet lifting from the ground because of his own power.

Yuri learns to fly.

That night, Yuri dreams of his Mama.

“You had it in you all along, my Yurochka,” she tells him.

Yuri bows his head. His hand tightens around hers.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, Mama,” he says.

Mama doesn’t reply. Instead, she stands up and she walks to Yuri’s window, which is open, showing the full moon. Mama extends a hand, palm up.

That night, Yuri dreams of jumping out of his bedroom window and flying with Mama right beside him.

Yuri is fifteen when he becomes friends with Otabek Altin.

Yuri loves watching the sunset. The world glows yellow, and for a few minutes everyday, Yuri can bathe in the sun without having to fly to it.

Today, he watches the sunset with Otabek. Today, he listens to Otabek describe a boy Yuri doesn’t remember. Otabek says he has the eyes of the soldier, and it’s the first that Yuri’s ever heard it.

Everyone has always told Yuri that he’s too delicate, too angry, too lazy, too greedy. They contradict themselves. They never know what they really want from Yuri. Yuri has enough confusion and doubt in him; he doesn’t need theirs.

But Otabek—

Otabek saw Yuri’s hard work, even though he hadn’t. Otabek saw Yuri’s efforts, even though he felt like they weren’t enough. Otabek wants to be Yuri’s friend, even though he thought he’d always have to be alone to fly.

When Yuri takes Otabek’s hand, it feels like a new beginning.

That night, Yuri dreams of being back in that novice ballet class.

This time, he sees Otabek. This time, he’s the one who offers a hand to Otabek when he falls.

That night, Yuri dreams of dancing in a pair.

Yuri is fifteen when he wins his first gold in the Senior division.

Grandpa is proud of him. Yakov and Lilia are proud of him. Katsudon and Victor are proud of him. Otabek is proud of him. Yuri wishes his Mama and Papa could be here, but he knows that wherever they are, they’re proud of him too.

Most of all, though, Yuri is proud of himself. He breaks Victor’s world record. He won so Katsudon wouldn’t stop skating with him. He wins gold on his Senior debut.

But there is more to overcome. Yuri has flown to the top of this mountain, but there’s more left for him to cover.

That night, Yuri dreams of standing on top of the podium. Everyone is with him, surrounding him, and Yuri has never been happier.

That night, Yuri dreams of warmth that starts in his chest and spreads to the rest of his body.

Yuri is sixteen when he shows Otabek that he can fly.

They’re in Yuri’s room in Grandpa’s apartment. It’s Otabek’s first night in, and he sits on the futon laid beside the bed while Yuri paces back and forth.

“What do you need to show me?” Otabek asks.

Yuri pauses, takes a deep breath. He hasn’t shown anyone else but Grandpa before, but Grandpa already knew he could do it, just like he knew Mama could.

Yuri doesn’t know how Otabek will react, but Otabek is his friend. His first friend, if not his only friend. Yuri wants him to know.

“Watch me,” he says.

He flies.

Otabek blinks, says, “Amazing.”

Then—

“I guess we don’t need my bike to run away from your fans now.”

Yuri tackles Otabek in a hug and pretends he isn’t smiling into Otabek’s neck.

That night, Yuri dreams that he’s back in his childhood home. Instead of seeing Mama like he usually does, though, it’s Otabek who sits on Yuri’s bed. It’s Otabek who stands up and offers a hand to Yuri.

It’s Otabek who jumps out of the window and flies with Yuri.

That night, Yuri dreams of Otabek’s rare smiles.

Yuri is seventeen when he first shares a podium with two of his favorite skaters.

Getting silver isn’t the same as getting gold, but it’s not so bad when it’s Katsudon who snatches the top spot on the podium right from under Yuri’s nose. It certainly isn’t so bad, getting a score barely two points above bronze when it’s Otabek who’s standing on Katsudon’s other side.

Yuri can see Victor standing with Yakov and Lilia. He has Yuri’s phone pressed to his ear, and Yuri can easily imagine Grandpa on the other end of the line, asking Victor to tell him what’s happening.

There’s a feeling in Yuri’s chest. It blooms and it blossoms and it makes Yuri feel like he’s flying even though his feet are still touching the ground.

That night, Yuri dreams of sitting in his burning childhood room. It’s alright, though. It’s not just Mama with him tonight, but Papa too.

“You’re doing so well, Yurochka,” Mama says.

“We’re so proud of you,” Papa says.

When they offer their hands to Yuri, he takes them.

That night, Yuri dreams of his parents letting him go, letting him fly without them.

Yuri is eighteen when Yakov retires and hands him off to Victor.

Hasetsu is far away from St. Petersburg where Mila and Georgi are. It’s far away from Moscow where Grandpa is. It’s even farther away from Almaty where Otabek is.

But Yuri is used to having to talk to Grandpa through phone calls everyday, and he’s used to talking to Otabek online.

So Yuri makes Grandpa promise to keep calling him everyday and ask how his practice is going. Yuri makes Otabek promise to keep sending him recordings of his mixtapes, and he promises to keep sending pictures of Potya to Otabek. Potya, who’s now safely in Hasetsu and all too condoning of Victor’s dog.

Victor and Katsudon—

Well. Yuri promises to keep making a fuss whenever they get too affectionate with each other in public, of course.

That night, Yuri dreams of flying across the distance between Japan and Almaty.

That night, Yuri dreams of meeting Otabek.

Yuri is nineteen when he realizes he’s in love with his best friend.

By some cruel twist of fate, they have to wait until the Grand Prix Finals to see each other again.

Yuri waits in the hotel lobby. Katsudon has to hold his leg down because he keeps bouncing it on the floor otherwise. Victor has to confiscate his phone because Yuri keeps checking it obsessively for a new message from Otabek.

But finally, Victor says, “He’s here.”

Finally, Otabek comes through the doors and Yuri sees him again after more than half a year of nothing but messages they have to sneak into their busy schedules and Snapchats that consist of less selfies than Yuri would like.

Usually, Yuri wouldn’t even consider openly giving affection in such a public place, but Otabek is right there and he feels like he’s been waiting so long for this. So Yuri runs and he runs and he jumps into Otabek’s open arms.

“I missed you, Beka,” Yuri says.

“I missed you too, Yura,” Otabek replies.

Yura doesn’t even mind that Victor is so obviously taking a video of them.

That night, Yuri dreams of flying with a string wrapped around his ankle. It doesn’t connect him to someone on the ground like it did before. Instead, it connects him to Otabek, who’s flying right beside him.

That night, Yuri dreams of finally finding someone he wants to stay by his side.

Yuri is twenty when he first kisses his Beka.

They’re in Almaty. Yuri is staying at Otabek’s while Victor and Katsudon are away on their honeymoon.

Otabek’s sister is in the next room, and his mother is in the room across theirs, but somehow, those details disappear from Yuri’s mind when he and Otabek are staring at each other under the dim light of Otabek’s bedside lamp.

“Yura,” Otabek says. “Will you kiss me or not?”

Well.

Yuri kisses him, of course.

That night, Yuri takes Otabek flying. They stay up until sunrise.

[midnightjournalist]

Update 8/18

Hey Tumblr land... I know it’s been a little bit, but I figured I’d give a little update on what’s been going on and where my stories are at right now since it’s been a while. For those who missed the memo...I started a job at the end of May and it’s totally been kicking my ass. I’ve been in training the last 12 weeks between getting my state license and learning a lot of stuff...I’ve been finding myself mentally exhausted lately. It’s been harder and harder to find time to work on stories, but I have been trying. I’m getting ready to go into Pre-transition from a training classroom to the floor, so I have to adjust to a new schedule for the next couple of months so something new to get used to and then in November I’ll be assigned a floor team. Fingers crossed on everything going well, but yesterday I technically graduated from the training.

That being said...I’ve been looking at the status of my stories and wanted to give a run down of where I’m at. I’ve been working on stories off and on and I have a few new projects in the works as well. Trying to stay inspired in my new stories and keep up the writing with new ideas so I don’t forget them. First off...the WIPs that have been posted. Lessons of Life and Love: Next chapter is about half done...we’ll be taking a look at our boys arriving at Victor’s home and Yuuri adjusting to his new home and being mated now that they’re not in the mansion. One Moonlit Night/Chasing Starlight: Gonna lump these two together. I have started on the next chapter for OMN and I have outlined the final chapter of Chasing Starlight to finish it up. I’m trying to transition from Tentacle Week (which has long passed the deadline, but I still wanna get this written) and back to the main story line. You’ll be actually meeting a few characters that made appearances in CS and resolving the little bit of conflict from the last chapter. Plus I have some plans for the final chapter of CS...Yuuri is gonna have a surprise for Victor that I hope you’ll all enjoy. Here’s to Us: I was struggling because I didn’t know where I wanted to go with it and I sorta lost my original outline for the ending, but I’ve figured out a little where I want to go with it. I’m hoping for an update soon. It’s been almost a year since I updated and I do want to finish so while it’s been on hiatus...I’ve gotten the next chapter started and I need to just finish it so I can get back into the flow of it. Now for the new Projects in the Works: Begin Again: This is going to be a bit of a kinky one shot. I wrote down Ideas for it a while back and thanks to the wonderful people on my Discord and my need for a stress relief in the form of writing we’re getting a kink heavy Victuuri one shot. ABO, Collars, chains, intersex Omega, and more. It will be Omega Victor since there isn’t enough of that out in the fandom and there will be consent between them so it’ll be some kinky fun after some not so great circumstances. That should be posted soonish so keep an eye out for it. Seeking Life: Another project inspired by a meme that showed up on another Discord I follow. I got inspired to write a what if scenario with Victuuri. It’ll will be interesting for me to write and I plan to have the first chapter out as soon as I update some of the other stories that need to be updated. Synopsis: Victor has been on top of the World for years, but always felt the weight of his success and the lack of life and love in his personal life threatening to weigh him down. In one night he found his inspiration, only to have it crushed by tragedy. Everything changed in Sochi...the night Yuuri Katsuki died... Then something miraculous happens and Victor gets another chance to help Yuuri with his dreams and he finds his inspiration again. Yuuri was no stranger to failure. His anxiety led him to believe the worst and then he had to go and die before living out his one dream in life. Unable to pass on, he seeks the one person who can make his dream come true. The problem with that...Victor is his idol and it’s easy to fall in love with a man like that. Yuuri must fight his feelings as they work together. After all, he’s no longer alive, but dreams change and he finds that he doesn’t want to let go...instead he dreads moving on and leaving Victor behind. 

Both desperate to find a solution or risk letting each other go... they cling to every moment that they share together trying to seek life once more...and maybe what they seek isn’t so far out of their reach after all. I’ve got one more story that I’ve started to outline. I was thinking of applying to the Sci-fi zine, but decided I already had way too much on my plate to commit to a zine right now, but I’ve still got the story in the works. Space Pirates, aliens, and a whole lot of fluff and fun. I can’t wait to get started on this project too and I’m hoping to figure out a title for it soon. Anyway...that’s the best update I can give you for now. I’m not going to give an exact ETA because at this point, I just don’t know and also I’m horrible at my own deadlines. Thank you all for your support and patience while I work out the kinks of everything. I really want to get something out soon. I might be able to get something out this weekend, but no promises. Just keep an eye out for updates.

[levirens]

[fanfic] of cold arms and pale lips 1/2

Summary:  Yuuri is torn between laughing and crying at the absurdity of the situation. The whole point of him leaving was so he could run away from the (literal) ghost of his past yet here he is, watching a silver-haired apparition dance ballet to classical music.

By the time the song ends, Yuuri’s cheeks are wet and he finds that he’s been clutching at his shirt, his hand directly above his heart. The ghost stands before him holding a pose, one arm extended towards Yuuri and a pale finger pointing at him. A moment passes before the ghost seemingly sags, his arms dropping to his sides and his body losing its graceful posture. The ghost smiles, a forlorn upturn of pale lips, and he whispers, “Thank you.”

He prides himself on his ability to stay in people’s blind spots, knowing just when to act and knowing how to trick people’s brains into making him blend in with the environment. To their brains, he’s a blemish, an anomaly that they can’t figure out and so they simply erase him from their sight. Nobody takes notice of him unless he wants them to, unless he does something that warrants their fleeting attention.

That’s fine by him.

He feels the slight rumble of the ground and lifts one foot up, letting it dangle precariously by the edge of the platform. No one takes notice, people going on with their lives as though nothing were amiss. He figures that if he does it just right, if he jumps at the perfect moment, he’d get away with it. The people milling around, they would only be able to see him once he gets into the bigger picture— in front of a fast-approaching train.  

That’s fine by him.

The rumbling gets stronger, reverberating inside him through his bones and into the hollow pit in his chest. He sees a girl from the corner of his eye, blond hair tied up into pigtails and a tattered doll hanging from her hand. It’s obvious she’s not one of them, proof being the gaping hole where a fraction of her skull used to be and the red splattered on her dress. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to think about her, to briefly imagine what life she used to lead and what led to her death, then he prepares for the jump.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Yuuri whips his head around, staring at the man standing beside him. Blue eyes stare back, a ghost of a frown hanging around the space between the man’s eyebrows. Yuuri’s eyes shift and lands on a shock of silvery gray hair, his mouth almost opening to sound a response. He stops, blood running cold as he spots his mistake just as the man hurriedly speaks.

“You can see me?”

There’s a deafening ringing in his ears, his once hollow chest feeling heavy with dread. He turns, willing himself to calm down. Darting his eyes around, he sees that none of the others have paid the exchange much attention, but that would soon change if he doesn’t get away from the place. He can feel the silver-haired man’s gaze on him, a hand raised as if to reach out and grab him.

No, Yuuri thinks. Not this shit again. He remembers how he had once interacted with one of them, a high school girl sporting a gunshot over her chest. She had followed him home, turning malevolent once Yuuri made it clear he was not open to having a roommate. That situation had escalated into a monthly appointment with a shrink and a one-way ticket to live halfway across the world.

He begins to walk, intent on going to a nearby mall area where he plans to lose the silver-haired man in the crowd. He maintains a brisk pace, moving against the rush of people heading for their morning commute. He rounds a corner and uses this opportunity to check behind him, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees the silver-haired man still standing by the platform, watching people board the train.

Yuuri runs for it, periodically checking behind him to make sure he still isn’t being followed. He still takes the long way home, making sure he passes by as many crowds as he can, doing his best to blend in. It’s only when he’s checked about a hundred times behind him and another hundred through the peephole of his door that he allows himself to breathe. He makes his way into his room on wobbly legs, his limbs shaking from the effort it takes him to contain the sobs threatening to spill out.

Staying in people’s blind spots is one of his skills, seeing and being able to interact with ghosts is another. One skill he took pride in and utilized on a daily basis, the other the reason why there are scars adorning his skin. Both gifts of sight, one allowing him to evade it and one allowing him to see beyond what is human. He drags a hand over his face, the image of blood-matted silver hair burned into his retinas. The blue-eyed man had seem upset at Yuuri, most probably aware of his own death and unable to believe that one of the living would want that for themselves, would willingly throw away their life when his had obviously been stolen from him.

Yuuri has half the mind to feel guilty. He walks over to the bathroom, stripping himself of the heavy winter clothes while he lets the tub fill with warm water. Tomorrow, he would go look for a job again, hopefully one with a decent enough pay that he can stop receiving the money his parents send him on a monthly basis. Then he’d be able to stop talking to them and stop pretending for their sake that their son is perfectly sane.

His parents love him, that he’s sure of. They make sure he knows this by telling him through text and through call on the rare occasion that he answers the phone. Every time he’d get the envelope containing the cash his parents continuously shelled out for him, there would be a note inside. Sometimes it would be his mother reminding him to never skip meals, sometimes it would be his father asking him when he’d be coming back, and, on rare occasions, it would be his sister asking him how he’s doing.

He never answers any of the notes, but he keeps them in a small container, along with the few items he had allowed himself to take with him from his old home.

Tomorrow, he would look for a job. He’s not hopeful, his bachelor’s degree and various skills usually boiling down to nothing once employers flip over the pages of his resume and they see the medical warning that he comes with.

Tomorrow, he would try, but today he simply climbs into the bathtub and wishes the water would somehow find its way over his head.

   Yuuri wants to act surprised, wants to feel surprised, but he had expected this. The woman behind the desk is looking at him with an almost apologetic look in her eyes, her mouth moving along to the words that Yuuri has been hearing interview after interview for over six months now.

“We’ll let you know, expect a call from us,” is one of the most common ones, most companies not even bothering to come up with an excuse to not hire him. There’s also the mighty, “The spot’s already been filled, but we’ll keep your contact details in case we have an opening.” The woman uses something along those lines, visibly squirming uncomfortably when Yuuri fails to react on time.

“Mister...” she looks down at his paper. “... Katsuki. Mister Katsuki, are you alright?”

“Sorry,” he says slowly, his mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. This had been the last interview on his list, all the others had been failures of similar kind. “Thank you for lending me your time.” He takes his files from the woman’s hands, bows his head, and leaves the building. A part of him wants to scream, wants to tear at his suit and rip his hair out from its roots. An act like that wouldn’t really do much damage at this point, not when everybody already thinks he’s crazy.

The cold air outside hits him across the face the moment he steps a foot onto the asphalt, snow already collecting on the ground. He brings his scarf up to cover half of his face, keeping his head turned down and his eyes firmly latched on the ground before him. He lets his feet lead the way, walking with no particular destination in mind. His hands start to feel numb, the thin gloves doing nothing to protect them from the cold. Each breath he takes is a bit more painful than the last, and when it becomes too much to endure, he lifts his head and looks around, trying to determine where he’d ended up.

His eyes catches sight of a person walking down the street opposite him, facing away from him and giving Yuuri a clear view of his soiled clothes. There’s a mixture of excrement and blood on the hospital gown and Yuuri shivers, turning away before noticing the store in front of him. The neon sign is turned off, cursive letters spelling out Eri’s Music, and the exterior of the store looks like it needs some repairing here and there. What truly catches Yuuri’s attention is the sign hanging around the store’s door, words written out in a crude handwriting.

Hiring: Store Clerk

Yuuri clutches at the documents in his hand, peering inside the shop to see a decent number of customers walking around and perusing CDs and albums. He’s opening the door before he registers what he’s doing, the chime of the bell drawing very little attention from the customers and only an inquisitive look from the man standing behind the counter.

“Yes?” the man prompts when Yuuri just stands there, gawking. “Can I help you?”

“I read the sign,” he blurts out, walking towards the counter. At the man’s raised eyebrow, Yuuri rushes to add, “The hiring. You’re still hiring, yes?”

Yuuri thinks he sees relief wash over the man’s expression before he grins at Yuuri, seemingly in triumph. “Hey boss, what did I tell you about that sign? We already have an applicant.” He turns to Yuuri, leaning over the counter to appraise the latter’s appearance. “You look fancy. You sure you want to work here? Pay’s not bad but it can’t buy you a suit like that.”

Yuuri blinks, looking down and wincing. He had picked this outfit thinking he’d be able to impress the employers, maybe make him look put together and capable of a desk job. He almost snorts at how stupid and naive the idea was. “I’ve been looking for a job,” he explains, glancing up and immediately looking away when he sees the smirk aimed at him. “I’ve worked at a shop before.”

“Fantastic,” the man beams just as someone claps him on the back. He turns to the taller male standing behind him and gestures to Yuuri. “Says he’s worked at a shop before.”

The taller male, a blonde with a muscular frame and a reasonably attractive face, jerks his head at Yuuri and motions for him to follow. He’s lead to the backroom, an office of some sort, and the blonde looks at him expectantly, a hand outstretched. Yuuri realizes the man is waiting for him to hand over his files.

Yuuri’s folder in hand, the man walks around his desk and sits down, briefly flipping through the papers. He stops at the last page, the one detailing Yuuri’s mental health, then opens a drawer and promptly shoves the folder inside. “Kristoff, the guy outside, will be going back to university soon. You’d have to take over his shift. You alright with working until around 10 PM?”

“Yes, sir,” Yuuri answers, his heart beating loudly against his chest. The man briefly asks him about his experience working at his parent’s inn, seemingly satisfied that he won’t be needing any training regarding the counter and customer assistance. He thanks the man, shaking his large hand, and exits the room feeling infinitesimally lighter. The shift would be long, starting from 9 AM to 10 PM, but the pay would be more than enough to cover his rent and living expenses.

Kristoff spots him and nods. When Yuuri answers with the slightest bit of a smile, the other male winks at him. “See you tomorrow.”

   As it turns out, the store has a pretty decent amount of loyal patrons. Kristoff’s job usually consists of locating CDs and albums for customers, restocking shelves, working the counter, and cleaning around the store. Yuuri shadows him for a day and then they split the work between them, Yuuri mostly taking on cleaning and restocking.

A week passes by and Yuuri settles into a routine. He arrives on time, cleans the store, restocks, eats lunch, cleans whenever there aren’t any customers around, and occasionally helps out with the counter. He realizes that there really isn’t much to do at the store despite the long shift, which is probably why he usually sees Kristoff sneaking around the backroom to nap or use his phone. When the other male isn’t doing his job or slacking off, he’s bugging Yuuri.

“You know, you’re really quiet,” Kristoff tells him, watching Yuuri rearranging their CD display. “Like, really, really, really quiet.”

Yuuri laughs, the sound sounding nervous and forced even to his own ears. He doesn’t know what Kristoff expects him to say to that and because he can’t think of a response himself, he goes back to rearranging the CDs. He feels the other male’s eyes on him and turns to Kristoff, racking his brain for something to say.

Kristoff speaks again before Yuuri can formulate something to say. “You are Asian, right?”

Yuuri nods, thankful that this, at the very least, he can answer. “Japanese.”

The other male moves so he isn’t just staring at Yuuri work, grabbing a few CDs and arranging them. From what Yuuri sees, Kristoff mostly just pulls out random CDs, looks at them, then places them back. He asks, “What does your name mean?”

Yuuri hesitates, surprised by the question. “The kanji of Yuuri can be read as “courage to win” or something like that.” At that, he feels Kristoff turn to look at him. Yuuri meets the other male’s eyes and squirms when Kristoff just keeps on staring. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Kristoff says, moving away from the shelves. He opens his mouth, seemingly to say something, but quickly closes it again, his eyes snapping down to glance at Yuuri’s scarred wrist before flicking away. He’s looking at something on Yuuri’s cheek when he says, “I’m off, school starts tomorrow. I’ll see you around on Friday.”

Yuuri hums in response, moving on to the next shelf and waving goodbye at the other male. With Kristoff gone and few customers around, the only thing that fills the silence of the place is the music. The owner had explained to him how to use the sound system and had given him a flash drive containing the week’s playlist. Yuuri is unfamiliar with most of the songs but he finds that none of them are terrible. He would often look at the laptop, liking a song enough that he would write down the title on his phone so he’d be able to listen to it at home.

He sees the customer looking around the counter, a couple of CDs in hand, and he rushes to attend to them. Not many people come in after that, one or two looking around but not buying anything. Around nine, the owner leaves him with Kristoff’s copy of the keys to the front door, tasking Yuuri with closing up. Alone and with nothing to do, he starts flipping through the songs on the laptop, looking for familiar ones.

With a song playing, he wanders around the store, cleaning up as he went. No one comes in, no one usually does around this hour, and he’s able to do the closing cleaning just as the song comes to an end. Another song comes on, one he’s unfamiliar with, so he moves to change it when he sees someone standing in front of the counter.

He feels his stomach drop, his legs unwilling to move any further once his eyes settle on blood-stained silver hair. There’s a tightness in his throat that he knows would result in a scream if he unscrews his mouth open, so he keeps it shut, eyes flickering to the CCTV camera closest to him. He tells himself to breathe, orders his legs to move and carry him towards the counter.

I’ll pretend I don’t see him, he tells himself. He’ll go away. He’ll go away. He has to go away.

Yuuri keeps his face expressionless and walks toward the counter, watching from the corner of his eye as the ghost turns to look at him. He reaches for the laptop to change the song, already about to click on the NEXT button when something stops him.

“Please don’t.”

Yuuri’s hand stills, long enough for it to be an obvious response to the ghost’s words. He wants to punch himself, wants to hurt himself so bad for being so goddamn stupid. He tries to think of his next move, tries to come up with a way that he’d able to brush off his hesitation and keep on pretending that he’s the only one in the store right now.

“I...” the ghost starts, interrupting his thoughts. When the man speaks again, Yuuri notes how his voice is thick with emotion. “I remember this.”

There’s something almost desperate in the ghost’s tone, something that causes Yuuri to slowly look up. The ghost isn’t looking at him, blue eyes staring down at his hands. Then the ghost moves and Yuuri is just about ready to bolt until he sees the silver-haired man twirl, hands extended as if they were holding someone against him.

It takes Yuuri a moment to understand what the ghost is doing. The music, the movement of his body... Yuuri has been able to see ghosts all his life, but he has never seen a ghost dance ballet up until that very moment.

The man dances with the utmost grace, leaping into the air and landing on his toes. Yuuri finds himself entranced, watching everything with wide eyes. He catches glimpses of the ghost’s expression, face filled with such sorrow that Yuuri feels something in his heart flutter in response. He feels tears prick behind his eyes, bewildering him, and he chalks it up to his brain being unable to cope with the fact that he’s watching a ghost dance with both immense beauty and unbearable sadness.

Yuuri is torn between laughing and crying at the absurdity of the situation. The whole point of him leaving was so he could run away from the (literal) ghost of his past yet here he is, watching a silver-haired apparition dance ballet to classical music.

By the time the song ends, Yuuri’s cheeks are wet and he finds that he’s been clutching at his shirt, his hand directly above his heart. The ghost stands before him holding a pose, one arm extended towards Yuuri and a pale finger pointing at him. A moment passes before the ghost seemingly sags, his arms dropping to his sides and his body losing its graceful posture. The ghost smiles, a forlorn upturn of pale lips, and he whispers, “Thank you.”

   When Yuuri arrives the following morning, the owner looks at him strangely. He sees the owner’s eyes flicker down to look at his wrists, an almost imperceptible nod following soon after. “Are you okay?” the owner asks him, much to Yuuri’s surprise.

Yuuri thinks back to what happened last night, belatedly realizing what it must have looked like through the CCTV footage: Yuuri, standing by the counter, listening to classical music and crying while staring into space. He looks down at his arms, wondering if the owner had been checking to see if Yuuri had attempted to do something.

Not that he would see anything there even if Yuuri does decide to hurt himself. It’s been months since he came to the realization that cuts on his arms were just too noticeable, too risky.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, maintaining eye contact with the owner. “I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

At his answer, the owner nods and leaves him to do his job. With Kristoff’s absence, the owner lets Yuuri eat lunch at the backroom while the blonde male takes over the counter. Yuuri eats as fast as he can without choking on his food, the owner’s surprise evident when Yuuri returns to his post not more than ten minutes after he left.

“It’s fine, I’m a fast eater,” he tells the owner. An elderly man approaches them, asking for a copy of The Carpenters’ last album. Yuuri takes this as his signal to get back to work.

The store is busier than usual today, Yuuri noticing how he’s almost never alone the whole time. He interacts with most of the customers, following the tips that Kristoff had given him. On more than one occasion, Yuuri is asked for his recommendation and he timidly suggests a band that he’s recently gotten into. He smiles when a couple of people listen to his recommendation and buy the album.

Before leaving, the owner reminds him he can close shop before 10 PM. Yuuri nods, his eye flickering to the clock. He watches as the number of customers dwindle down until he’s down to the last one, a student who looks around as if only noticing for the first time how late it is and that he’s the last one there. The student mumbles an apology and heads out without buying anything.

The ghost returns right before Yuuri’s about to shut down the laptop, making his heart race and his body go rigid for a second. He feels himself relax when he sees the ghost giving him a small smile. Yuuri thinks he might just be imagining things but the smile looks almost sheepish, a request hiding behind the ghost’s blue eyes. He looks at the ghost then at the laptop, a silent question. The ghost nods, making the hair on the back of Yuuri’s neck raise.

He looks for the same song from last night, ignoring the way his mind screams at him for interacting with a ghost and fulfilling its request. As if to make him painfully aware of the mistake he’s about to make, his mind flashes back to the last time he had been stupid enough to associate himself with the dead, his hand stilling before he could press PLAY. He looks at the ghost, still smiling at him shyly, and remembers how it had simply disappeared after dancing last night.

He plays the song and watches as the ghost immediately starts dancing, the movements similar from last night but somehow appearing more calculated. Yuuri has no doubt that this ghost, this man, used to be a great dancer before he had died. The thought of that reminds Yuuri of the blood on the man’s hair, knowing that if he were to look he would see the wound on the man’s skull.

Similar to last night, the performance ends with the silver-haired man pointing at him and then disappearing into thin air, leaving Yuuri breathless and with a strange sort of sadness that has him screwing his eyes closed. He stays rooted in place for a few moments, the silence surrounding him doing nothing to ease the thoughts scattered around his brain. He starts packing up, his body moving on auto-pilot and his mind still trying racing. He knows he shouldn’t entertain the ghost, shouldn’t have in the first place and shouldn’t continue to do so. On the forefront of his mind he knows this couldn’t possibly end well.

Still, he finds himself listening to the little voice speaking to his conscience, the part of him that tells him that the silver-haired dancer wouldn’t do anything to him. This little voice tells him that Yuuri might not know the man but he knows the look in the dead man’s eyes, knows it because he sees it every time he looks in a mirror and every time he sees himself reflected in people’s eyes. He knows what it feels like to be surrounded by people but still be all alone.

Yuuri knows what it’s like to be invisible.