#kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛ ✍🏻

[katsukikitten]

You've been writing to inmates in prison for almost two years now and have helped many feel more at ease with their current situations and possible futures. So it should come to no surprise when the warden of the most notorious prison seeks out your help with a difficult inmate they can hardly contain. The task proves difficult after you receive your first letter back from Bakugou Katsuki. More infamously known as Ground Zero, and you're not so sure you can help a man this far gone.

wc 6.8k warnings: dunno but he's mean and a villain so read at your own risk. MDNI 18+ content

Congratulations!

You've been selected for a special project due to your credentials with previous inmates. Letters exchanged between you and other inmates have had a positive effect on their rehabilitation which is one step closer to getting them assimilated back to the normalcy of society. 

We ask that you help us by reaching out to inmate B-001174 Bakugou, Katsuki. He has not had mail correspondence nor a visitor due to his self isolation since his incarceration. We are hoping that a letter from the most well received correspondent begins to pave the way for a brighter future for B-001174. Please see the below instructions on what topics to avoid for inmate B-001174

Family members of any relation to inmate

Previous crimes by inmate or inmate's affiliates. 

Current crimes by inmate's affiliates or any such nature of crime 

Current events of any kind including natural disasters, diseases, political elections or anything of relation. 

Current hero rankings, change of status or death of any hero since incarceration December 18th 2XXX

Any mention of hero(es) who captured inmate listed as follows : Aizawa, Shouta - Eraserhead, Todoroki, Enji - Endeavor, Toshinori, Yagi - Allmight, Usagiyama, Rumi - Mirko 

Current known affiliates are listed as follows : Kirishima, Eijirou, Midoriya, Izuku, Shigaraki, Tomura and Todoroki, Touya. 

We appreciate your efforts in brightening the dull lives of inmates and hope you pick up your pen and do what you do best, change lives for the better! Please see the following attachments for instructions on how to address the letter and seal inside the pre-paid postage envelope before dropping it off at any post office.

Remember each letter will be opened and read for any sort of criminal activity before being passed along to the inmate. 

Sincerely, 

Warden of Tartarus Maximum Prison Facility

You flip the letter over and skim the instructions, the same as they always are expect this time there is an extra line to add, maximum security level ten, as if you had to notate some sort of alert to the mailroom for an extra thorough check of this particular piece of mail. You bite the inside of your lip, toeing off your kitten heels before padding over to your computer with letter in tow.  

The request comes as a surprise, mostly because they listed a specific inmate instead of your usual list of inmates who wished to receive mail but had ties cut from their own families or needed some semblance of someone on the outside to speak with. Never asking you to address some sort of conversation with someone who sounded like they didn't want to have one at all. 

Snarling your lip when you read the affiliates that you needed to avoid as if their government names gave you any idea of who they were, some of them anyway. 

Two with whom you were already exchanging letters with weekly. 

Your usual routine to wind down from work is lost to your undying hunger of who this person was. Although you had to admit Bakugou sounded eerily familiar. 

A quick search brings up his villain name,  Ground Zero, captured during a raid of some sort and he alone needed several heroes for his capture. His quirk was dangerous, explosions detonated by sparks along his forearms and palms from his sweat that contained nitroglycerin and it seemed as if his mental health was just as stable as the fuel to his quirk. 

Looking at him wrong set him off and he was powerful enough to level buildings from just a few juls of output from his intense explosions. Still curiosity killed the cat and you delved deeper. 

Wondering how Izuku, aka Deku, who was quirkless and Eijirou, aka Blood Riot who could harden his skin, which you knew from their letters, got caught up with a living, breathing nuke. 

Thankfully most of the documentation and footage involving Katsuki's arrest was released to the public with redactions and edits of course but what you needed was the raw data. 

Finding unofficially released footage from Mirko's body cam, the only surviving body cam between the pursuing heroes. It starts right in the midst of the action, sirens wailing  and people screaming in the background as the scene unfolds. Ground Zero and Mirko exchange blows evenly while Endevor tries to ambush him from behind. The hulking blonde smirks, as if he had no blind spot, swinging his large arm backward hitting Endeavor right in the mouth, hard enough it sends him flying.  Katsuki's bromine eyes flicker to what must be vantage points off camera as if searching for something. 

"Got that pesky ass four eyes on me huh? I'm hurt ya don't wanna play with me properly, hops." He dodges a kick to the chest, sliding back and it's obvious his prowess as a fighter is unmatched, even with his quirk silenced.

"Shut the fuck up. Ya talk too much."  Shifting her weight to fein a kick that he catches, pinning her thick leg between his sturdy ribs and strong arm as he wears the nastiest smile. One that Mirko wipes off quickly with a swift kick from her free foot straight to his handsome face. Turning his cheek and blood arcs from his mouth, still he does not stagger nor falter. 

He even still has her leg pinned as she stands awkwardly, back arched to him and her bunny tail twitches. The viewer can only see the ground and her free leg but the mic still very much catches what he says next and you're sure the smile he was wearing earlier comes back tenfold. 

"Careful hops, ya get any rougher with me and I'll cum." 

His laugh echoes shortly after and the sound should not cause your stomach to flip the way it does before the footage abruptly ends. 

Taking the time to scroll through a few more pictures and articles, trying to find where it all went wrong when really none of that was your business, still it killed you to know. 

And when you fail to find anything, fail to find that butterfly effect that puts his whole life askew, it does little to quell the uneasy feeling that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. If anything it fuels it yet still you rummage your desk for stationary and a pen. 

Sealing away the envelope once you were done and setting it by your purse to grab in the morning when you think you'll be braver. 

Or maybe less brave as you hesitate by the mail drop off box, your train fast approaching the outside terminal before you shove it into the slot quickly. 

Too late to take it back now. 

Besides what were the odds he'd even send one back?

"B-001174, got mail." The guard grunts as he slips the already open letter under the cell door, finishing his rounds before the doors would open and the inmates could roam about the pod as they saw fit. 

Katsuki snarls, he didn't get mail, letters or pictures or even the cult following he once had he'd scared 'em all off. Tired of all the stupid bullshit they spewed at him, the ideals they placed on him or the words they shoved into his mouth. Worst yet were how they justified their actions, their own wrong doings in the name of Ground Zero, too pussy to even own up to their own actions. Katsuki hated that as much as he hated liars. 

Besides he didn't ask for all that shit, didn't care. He just wanted to watch the world burn. 

Wanted to set it on fire and Katsuki's philosophy was that anything was kindling. 

That everything is kindling. 

And he thinks he should just ignite the smallest spark despite the quirk "silencing" cuffs and let the letter be devoured by the heat of his palms. 

But the return address catches his eye, the name does. It's familiar in a way he can't quite place yet. Pulling the paper out of the envelope in the meantime. The first thing he notices is the faint almost perfumey smell of coconut from the paper, not from spraying the stationary but as if it were lotion rubbing across the parchment as you wrote in long looping letters, for a moment he finds the smell pleasant. His poisonous bromine eyes slide over the letter with ease. 

Dear Bakugou, 

I heard you don't get letters very often, if any, so I hope this one finds you well. The weather is warming up quickly, the cicadas are starting to scream even though it's barely June, we'll all be sweltering come August. Summer is my favorite season, do you have a favorite? Work slows down around this time and they usually grant us extra leave so we can enjoy the weather, which is quite nice. I hope you're getting to enjoy the sun as well. 

I know cooking is one of your favorite things, I can see why. It can be relaxing or make you feel good to nourish someone else. What other hobbies do you have aside from cooking? Any favorite books or authors? Maybe I can send your favorite one in! Just let me know. 

Do you have everything you need? Do you need any money for commissary? Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all, I'm only a letter away. 

Hope to hear from you and maybe soon I can call you Katsuki. 

Much Love

He snorts as he reads the last line and it finally dawns on him from where he knows your name. Lifting himself out of his prison cot with ease, the cheap thing groaning from his bulk as he exits his cell. Heading towards the neighboring cell that holds Deku and Riot, shoving his way into the too cramped space for the bulking men. 

"Ka-kaachan!" Izuku chirps, surprised to see the hot headed blonde out of his cell and especially surprised to see Bakugou in his own. Lingering by Izuku's half with a quirked brow, his eyes roaming until they found the hidden stack of papers. 

"Gonna grab breakfast with us?" Kirishima asks as he watches large hands snatch at the pile. Instantly Izuku stands, eyes darkening as he steps towards Katsuki.

"Put those down, Kaachan." It's that fake polite smile Izuku wears before a fight, the kind that never reaches his eyes and Bakugou doesn't heed the warning, "Please."

It's clipped and now Kirishima thinks to rise, doesn't want either of them to do solitary or to deal with the month long bickering if they do get into a physical fight. 

Katsuki looks over the letters, reading them quickly and appreciating that Izuku is meticulous enough to keep them in chronological order, each one signed off the same way. Much love. 

Such bullshit. 

Izuku shoves Bakugou when he still scowls down at the papers that also smell like coconut. Katsuki drops the letters unceremoniously and Izuku scrambles to keep them from hitting the concrete floor. Bakugou already on Kirishima's side who watches with a confused glare. 

"What are you-" But Kirishima doesn't get to say much else as Katsuki lifts the thin mattress from the metal frame to find the hidden letters. Tucked away safely as if the battle worn villain took comfort in the false words in shiny black ink. 

Same return address, same name, same bull shit sign off. 

"Katsuki!" Kirishima shoves him and the blonde hardly moves, Eijirou's skin half hardening out of habit before he tries to shove again. Katsuki hits his forearm harshly, a soft pop in warning although neither could do too much with the amount of sedation and silencing that came from the collar from around their thick throats. Izuku sans silencing cuffs, has no worries about a part of him being dulled. He was built like an ox with the metabolism of a pubescent teen despite being in his late twenties so sedatives or mood stabilizers hardly have any effect. 

Bakugou tosses the letters onto Kirishima's scratchy blanket before he scoffs. 

"Tsk, believe that bullshit?" He's rolling his eyes as he leaves the cell with nothing but the rustle of paper as they try to rehide what they act like is their dirty little secret. 

God weak hearted fools were so fucking annoying. 

Post through the prison system could take some time, especially when it came to newer exchanges. It could be anywhere between two weeks to two months before you saw a reply from Katsuki. If you got one at all. 

But the thought of his phantom reply slips to the back of your head what with your current workload and the other correspondents so when you see a sealed envelope the prison's return address you think nothing of it. 

Not until you open it to see an open envelope with your address but instead of your name is spelled out Fake Bitch. 

Blinking furiously you pull out the letter, unfolding it quickly to let your eyes scan over the page, each word burning into your retinas.

Piece of shit, 

Such a pathetic fuckin slut, writing any and every desperate man behind bars you think is hot, hopin you'll get a conjugal visit. Already fucked everyone at surface level ya gotta try prison dick? 

Or is it worst than that?  Mommy and daddy didn't love ya enough? Didn't give ya enough attention so you look for it in anyone that'll give ya the time of day? Prey on those with no one to talk to knowing you'd get a reply out of desperation. 

Lickin knives all ya know sweetheart? Pretty fuckin scummy if ya ask me. 

Fuck off and die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

Now you've received your fair share of mean and asshole letters but this? This was different. 

This felt personal. 

It was rule number one you'd given yourself when you were asked to start penning letters while in a shitty place yourself. 

And yet here you were breaking it for some asshat who thought the cityscape was his to destroy. 

Heart ringing in your ears as you try to calm yourself, counting your breaths until you finally could see straight. Penning up something simple yet effective telling yourself that even if he didn't reply it didn't matter. 

You drop it into the mail the next day, two weeks later the same guard is slipping another opened letter under Bakugou's cell door. A snarl to his lip, he didn't expect you to reply and if he was being honest he may have forgotten about you, still the envelope was addressed to his inmate number and no longer is his name written in your cute script. 

While you may think you know everything there is to know about life and me, I'd like to point out your position over mine. 

Last I checked I'm not miles and miles in the ground, under heavy security, among other things a civilian wouldn't be privy to. However I will put it into lame man's terms as it seems your cognitive abilities have declined. 

I'm not the one behind bars, asshole. 

Much Hate

Bakugou clicks his tongue, he was used to the insult, wore it proudly most days but he knew his first letter would go one of two ways.

One, you'd cry when you read it and never replied to him again, which was his hope or two there was a very slim chance he'd get under your skin enough you'd feel the innate need to respond and defend yourself. 

Bakugou does what he does best and burrows further under your pretty skin twirling the pen he finds in the library with ease as he takes to writing out a delicious reply. 

Mail from Tartarus normally came on Wednesday or Thursday as if someone at the facility always forgot to send it out at the beginning of the week. So it became a part of your routine to check your PO Box you set up in a prefecture over in order to preserve your safety should something ever go awry with any of your pen pals or to receive online purchases. Mail day used to be a day you looked forward to, something to help you get through the remainder of your work week but today it was a day you dreaded. 

The excitement from seeing the others' responses in the mail is overshadowed by one particular envelope that slips out of the Manila folder that all of the letters to the same correspondent were sent in to save postage. 

You should be reading Touya's letter or hell anyone else's for that matter, yet here you stood, going for that obnoxious scrawl as he still refused to spell out your name and instead gave you some horrible insult. 

Pathetic Slut

If lying to yourself by writing half ass disingenuine letters to prisoners out of pity makes ya feel like yer changing the world then by all fucking means write away sweetheart. 

Just don't be surprised when you get an asshole response from an asshole behind bars. 

Cause we both know that's what you think of all of us don'tchya? 

Die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

It shouldn't bother you, it shouldn't burrow so deep into your skin that his inky words scratch at your bones. Like his fingers could dig around in the marrow like maggots yet still it makes your cheeks heat. Makes your eyes burn from frustration and lack of blinking as your palms sweat. 

Soles of your feet burning as you walk further into your apartment to rummage through the drawers of your desk.  Uncaring how things topple over as you furiously grab for a permanent marker, pens and books scattering over the hardwood floors. 

Heart pounding as it resounds through your body like metal striking a bell. Each beat faster, harder than the last until you think your vision starts to ehb at the edges from how much hatred burns away at any of the kindness you built up over the last decade. 

Snapping the marker in half by the time you're done writing your final letter to the asshole. 

FUCK 

YOU 

You don't read it, don't care if it makes it past screening and he never sees it at all. Shoving it into one of your personal envelopes on your desk slapping on a floral postage stamp before stomping down to the express box that sat just outside of your apartment complex. 

It takes a full week for you to calm down, another week to stop thinking about it daily, and one more week to even reply to the letters you got almost a month ago. 

An email comes in from the post office, alerting you to something being placed in your box. You hope it's the new sun dress you bought as retail therapy after a long week and an even bigger bottle of booze that you'd drained. Spending quite a pretty penny on something you didn't even really have an occasion to wear it to. 

More like a nice date, the type of dress you could dress up or down depending on what sorts of accessories you paired with it. 

Taking the train three stops past your own to head into the post office. Turning the key to your decent sized box finding within the metal your promised package. 

And on top of that a familiar manila folder with the return address to Tartarus. 

You grit your teeth, holding onto the mail harder than you should as you take those three long stops back home. Swallowing thickly as you climb your steps, the folder and plastic bag package punctured from your sharp nails as you quickly press in your seven digit key code to get into your apartment and out of the sweltering mid August air.

When your door shuts it closed off the sound of the screaming cicadas and the few crickets that lie in the green space beside your apartment as you try to force yourself to follow your nightly routine. 

Remove shoes, take off makeup, eat, shower, sleep. 

But that damn folder was burning a hole into your fingers as you go to your desk, rocking your chair side to side before you just rip it open like you'd rip off a bandaid. 

This time the letter addresses you in a new way. 

Sweetheart, 

I dare you to come say that shit to my face. You fuckin better show up Saturday other wise I'll let your precious Izu and Eiji know just how much of a fake bitch ya really are. Imagine what it would do to them? Break their hearts I'm sure.  

Ya'd hate to mess with their progress wouldn't ya? 

Don't forget to wear something cute, it'd be nice to see some fat tits in my face at the very least. If a shitty woman like you even owns anything relatively sexy.

Fuck off 

Bakugou Katsuki 

You see red, breathing deeply as you re-read the letter again, who the fuck was this asshole? Black mailing you into visiting him so it wouldn't hurt your other correspondents because Bakugou was so fucking selfish. 

So black out angry you don't seem to wake up, not when you put yourself in that sleek summer sun dress that went to your mid thigh, not when you stare at your angry scowl as you apply light make up, and especially not on the hour drive and then two hour ferry ride to Tartarus. Especially not during the twenty minute descent in a cramped elevator box with a guard in front and behind you with AKs clipped to their chests, the sweltering heat seeping down this low in the ground due to body heat and poor ventilation of the prison. 

Not until the buzzer of the barred door in front of you screams its demands, that the handle was "live" and could be opened by the guard standing in the cage between the hallway that led back to freedom and the other where you could already see toxic bromine burning into your skin. 

This was a bad idea. This was a really fucking bad idea.  

You swallow thickly, it was too late to turn back now wasn't it? The door had already swung shut as the guard came closer to you for one final inspection.

"Dress is kinda short." Katsuki can overhear the guard mumble to you, can see how the guard's fingers twitch and for some reason his own do too. He watches how the guard lingers, how the man's hand press against your body and bunches up your dress as he pats you down a little too roughly. How you bite your lip when the man squeezes your ribs and under the weight of your breasts a little too roughly. 

Katsuki is starting to see red, sweat begins to collect on his brow. He hasn't even fully seen you at least not without an obstructed view but already he can tell he likes what he sees. 

Likes how the dress clings to parts of you you'd favor, the parts you want to really highlight. How the hem flusters higher with each step of your strappy flat shoes.

Loves the scowl that pinches up your cute face when the door buzzes to allow you into the room with him and another six guards. Likes how you straighten your spine as if you've gotten fresh resolve when you come in. 

Looking at him like he was trash and he smirks, like how you don't recoil from him despite how he looks now.  

Plexiglass spit guard with metal framing afixed to his face to keep more than his salvia to himself, more so to keep his gnashing teeth away from people's skin. How his throat is encircled with a thick black collar with a red light set far past stun and closer to kill that would send an electric pulse if he misbehaved but only if they could reach their remote fast enough. 

How the silver cuffs around his thick wrists chain him to the table top, thick forearms exposed from him rolling up his bright orange suit that was harsh on the eyes thanks to the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead. Soft ash blonde hair messy at the top with a self given undercut beneath, iris so bloody red it was as if he was born straight from the calf of Ares himself. 

"Hey Sweetheart." He purrs and his voice is pure sin. 

Pure fucking sin. 

Sending a jolt straight to your clit as his pretty lips curl up into a deadly smirk, showing his sharp canines. 

Bakugou can't contain the feeling of triumph that dances in his veins, purposely egging you on in his letter with the closest Saturday knowing you'd be allowed to come on such short notice. See, most visitors needed to have thorough background checks and intensive mental testing before coming to meet anyone in maximum security five hundred meters below sea level. 

But the conniving blonde knew you were special. 

Knew the warden of Tartarus favored you and would allow you to skip these precautions, especially after what that dumbass thinks you've done. In less than a month of writing to him, that damn Deku finally added Inko-san back to his visiting list, actually came to the visit and cupped her hands. Murmuring on and on that her baby boy with the wavy emerald curls was okay. Inko cried and returned every month since.

No different for Kirishima either, adding Fat Gum, who was like a father figure to him during their shared time at UA, to his visitor list. Surprisingly Taishiro came, still comes, him and Inko car pool together. 

Not even a few heartbeats pass between the two of you before you feel your tongue slicing up the sensitive skin of the roof of your mouth. Of the hard bone of your teeth. 

"Fuck. You." The words drip with sticky poison that even one of the guards behind him flinches but not Bakugou. 

No never Bakugou Katsuki, the Ground Zero himself who leveled a city for the fucking fun of it 

He smiles, both sides of his mouth curling up and it should be disturbing how much he obviously gets off on your frustration, on your hate. But it isn't, it's almost mesmerizing how he looks at you. Like you're something to triumph and conquer, something he wants to keep for himself. 

With that you turn to leave, skirt fluttering from the movement and Katsuki can see the tattoo on your upper thigh, the ink making his mouth salivate as he wonders if he can find any more you've got hidden on that fine body. 

He lunges despite the rattling chains that keep him close to the table, still he has enough leeway to grab onto your arm in one giant hand. Foolishly you try to pull free. 

"Oh come on sweetheart. I've got a whole hour of play time for this. Yer not leaving, sit down." 

His grip on you is tight, his hand big enough to engulf half of your forearm and it gets tighter still. Hot palm making your bones creak from the pressure as he smiles up at you cruelly. All you can do is glare down at him, bore all of your hate where the two of you are connected, his skin feels electric against yours. 

"Ya know, I could probably still blow your arm off." He doesn't bother to say it quietly, chuckles when you look at the quirk silencing cuffs and collar he dons, "They ain't shit against strong quirks." 

Your eyes flash, anger spiking your blood and stupidly you strike. Hand stinging as badly as the tears that come to your eyes and threaten to fall past your lash line. Clawed fingers met with the metal framing of the glass spit guard mask that covers his mouth. Still one of your claws cuts his cheeks and he howls with laughter. 

"Like I said-" He yanks you down harshly, playful tone from his voice gone as your ribs smack into the edge of the metal table, puffs of hot breath fogging the glass of his spit guard, "Sit." 

The awkward angle forces your knees to bend, settling on to the cold metal stool while his warm fingers leave blossoms of black and blue on the skin. As if returning the favor for the cut. 

"I can feel your heart pounding princess,yer pussy throbin this hard too?" He licks his lips, laughs when you lean away from him in disgust, "Ya like it. All sluts play hard to get at first." 

Your eyes flicker to the guards behind him, all six pretend not to notice, panic shoots through your veins and the realization of just how bad of a fucking idea this was settles over you harshly. Like ice water flowing from the nape of your neck.  

He follows your gaze, even cranes his head like he didn't know who was behind him and exactly where they stood. 

"Oh them? They ain't gonna do shit. They're too scared of me. Blew a guy's head off last week." He smiles and one of the guards suddenly finds the floor interesting, "Do ya know how drugged up I am right now baby? How much force these cuffs have to use to bring my quirk down to half power?" 

Choosing not to respond you let your eyes fall back on his handsome face watching it snarl as you ignore him. 

Oh he'd make you see him. 

"What cat got yer tongue now ya scared cause I'm so strong? Invincible?" Your eyes narrow as he speaks the arrogance of this man is far beyond your comprehension. 

"You bleed like every other man." He loves the way you speak, how you wield that sharp tongue. How he wants it pressed and slashing over his own as he's two fingers deep into your tight cunt, moaning into his mouth. 

He brings the thick digits of his free hand parting gift you bestowed upon him. The long thin slash as rough pads bring smeared blood into view so he can lick away the dark red beads. 

"Bloody men are usually the most dangerous, you never know if it's his or that of another's." He lets his hot thumb roll over the cut, cauterizing the small wound hoping it scars. 

Eyes widening as he blatantly uses his quirk as if there weren't armed guards behind him. You're watching his eyes closely as he does and finally you realize what he said is true. There is a dullness to them that was lacking in the raw footage you saw all those months ago. 

Then his eyes were vibrant, sharp and slicing, much more intense then the hazy glare he gives you now. It didn't make him any less of an apex predator. 

Still watching you, recording your small movements and committing your soft skin to his memory as he studies you. 

"Got a quirk?" He grunts out after a moment, after he collects whatever information he was looking for, "I wanna guess first. Manipulation?" 

He smirks at his own joke and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore how his thumb swipes at the underside of your forearm idly. How the motion twists your stomach violently with dizzying emotions. 

Rolling your eyes before you scoff an answer, "No. Besides you expect me to manipulate through what? Ink?" 

"Ya never know. Went to school with some asshole whose quirk was comic book sound effects." He leans back never letting go but now his hand is around your wrist. His fingers twitch when he looks at yours, fights the urge to roughly lace them with his own. 

"Well I don't. Manipulate I mean." You adjust in your seat, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, "And I won't disclose whether I have a quirk or not." 

"Haaah? Worried I'll like it?" When you don't answer he adds, "Is it compatible with mine?" 

Slowly blinking at him trying not to read into what you think he means. He groans at your silence, the higher dosage of his morning meds finally catching up making him a little lethargic. Taking his edge off when all he wants to do is rise over the crashing wave of the pending high he can barely keep at bay and whisk you out of the depths of hell the two of you currently sit in. 

"So then what? You just used regular words to manipulate them?" He fights back a yawn. 

"Who?" Your ribs still ache from his actions earlier, it doesn't warn you like it should. 

"Don't play fuckin stupid, Sweetheart." He's lurching into your space again, hand moving back over your bruise. It makes your stomach clench when it shouldn't, especially not as the chains rattle against the metal table top, serving as a heavy reminder of the setting of this conversation. 

Still his breath comes in quick puffs as it fogs up the glass again, "Shitty hair. Deku." 

Your brows furrow for a moment, another groan from him. 

"For fucks sake." Light squeeze of your arm as he spits their names, "Fuckin nerdy ass Izuku. Eijirou."

"I can't talk about them." Looking away from his darkened eyes that flash with a fury of emotion.

"Who's stoppin ya? Them?" He tilts his head towards the guards, "I told ya-" 

"B-001174, you have five minutes left for visitation." A voice crackled over an old speaker in the visitation cell, "Please remove your hands from the guest or we will apply force." 

The small light on his collar flashes red and he just smirks, looking up, well above your head. Staring directly at the warden like he knows exactly where he stood behind the two way mirror. 

"Yea? You'll apply force? Go ahead. Nothin but a little shock t' me but t' her? She'll die warden." There is no mirth in his smirk, lips twitching as his eyes are shrouded in dark warning, "And we wouldn't want that would we?" 

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine, the haze of whatever sedative they had him on is now gone and you're left sitting across from those vibrant radioactive eyes. Burning through the mirror to sear the warden's skin in a threat, a promise. 

A buzz rings out as the seventh guard comes in, he scrunches his nose and it makes his oddly shaped mustache twitch. 

"Miss." He grunts holding out his hand for you to take too close in your personal space for your liking. Slapping it out of your face before following your right arm down to where Katsuki held fast. Peeling off his thick digits with your finely manicured claws. 

He hisses at the loss of contact, glaring at the guard when his hands hover close and the older man is smart enough not to antagonize a literal monster. Katsuki stands suddenly, a scream comes from the bolts securing metal to metal as he rips the table out of the ground, unable to break the chains for now. 

Everyone but Bakugou in the room freezes, guns cocked and aimed at the bulking villain who rose to his full height, sticking his prison issued white shoe onto the seat he just sat on to push down roughly. Thick thigh muscles straining against the fabric of the bright orange pants. A smile to his face when the chains finally snap and he can move his hands more freely before ripping off the plexiglass spit guard letting it clink on to the ground. His large hands run through his hair as if to fix it. 

"I'm entitled to a proper fuckin good bye." He hisses at everyone in the room, they keep their guns aimed at him but make no move to pull any trigger. 

Katsuki stalks closer, a wall of muscle, broad chest and shoulders, slim waist that leads down to powerful legs and you try not to let your breath catch in your throat. 

Try not to let the big bad wolf win by letting him know just how scared you were. Over how impressive it was that he snapped reinforced titanium chains so easily. 

He's well within your arms reach now, so close heat radiates from his chest. 

"I'll see ya soon, Sweetheart." He bids you a final goodbye, waving his fingers that pop with burning caramel explosions. You're not sure why it sets you off, maybe it was the way he wore that stupid smirk on his face, maybe it was the way he demonstrated his power or his dominance in an attempt to intimidate you one last time. 

Maybe it's the way he was arrogant enough to think you'd waste six hours round trip on his ass ever again. 

Either way it makes your temper flair, burrows deep into your subdermis to scarpe at your bones one final time before you unknowingly seal your own fate. Not knowing how his body would react to your parting words. 

"There won't be a next time. I came here for one thing and that was to say fuck you." Delivered with just as much clotting venom as it was before, middle finger held high.

His smirk turns deadly, blowing out a snort as he leans closer as if to share a secret. You can smell the cheap commissary soap that clings to his skin that's starting to lose out to the rapidly building nimbus of smoking caramel that clouds the air as his lips press to your ear.  

"Don't have t'. I'll come to you." He pulls back and winks as you're guided out of the room, glare fixed on him as he stands unbothered. 

He's lying, prisoners lie all the time especially if they think they can get the upper hand. He couldn't come to you. He couldn't escape prison for starters and lastly there was no way in hell he'd ever find out where you lived.  The prison made sure of that by always including a fresh envelope with their own return address in the top left corner, you should know. You only triple checked each time you sealed away the letter, even a fourth time at the post box staring down at the address on the envelope making sure both were correct.

So fuck Bakugou Katsuki for being a dirty liar, fucking hypocrite.

Shoving yourself into an oversized shirt after your body shower you finally get to plop down into bed. Relishing the feel of fresh sheets and blankets as you sigh deeply. It had been a long, long day and no amount of self care could get his toxic blood red eyes out of your head.

Switching on the TV to pull up some show to numb your mind with familiarity when the channel cuts out. Breaking news flashing across the screen makes your body go rigid. 

A prison break from Tartarus has occurred in the late evening hours, several high profile villains are believed to have escaped such as Shigaraki Tomura, Todoroki Touya, aka Dabi, Kirishima Eijirou aka Blood Riot,  Midoriya Izuku aka Deku and Bakugou Katsuki better known as Ground Zero. Please do not approach suspected escapees, please report any suspicious person or activities immediately. Most importantly keep all doors and windows locked at all times. I repeat do not engage with the inmates. 

A knock comes from your left, making you jump out of your skin as you fist the sheets. A cold sweat breaking out over your skin in goose flesh as your hearing rings in your ears. Unable to bring yourself to look at the sliding glass door to your balcony just yet as if you could ignore it and the cause of the sound would simply go away.

Another rapt of knuckles pulls your attention once more before you finally dare to peek to see glowing red eyes peering in. The devil himself at your door and you knew better than to let him in. 

Knew better that a locked door couldn't keep him out. 

Bromine burning in the night like ever fanned flames, orange jumpsuit obnoxiously out of place against the night sky, stained in deep burgundy red and ash grays, the same colors streaking his face before he knocks again. But this time it's in warning, hard enough to rattle the door that you both know he could rip off the track with ease.

"How- how did you?" Teeth chattering that you grit closed still refusing to give in to his tactics until he presses a small envelope against the glass. Your personal envelope with your real home address listed for return. 

Panic bubbles up your throat in a scream that dies at the back of your teeth as you sit frozen a minute longer while he gives a predatory grin, large hands pressing against the glass before his palms glow bright orange. Brighter than his jumpsuit before the glass shatters and your scream finally escapes your lungs. 

In an instant he's towering over you, palms pressing into biting shards as he cages you against the plush comforter dipping his head low so he can nose at your throat, hot palm at your ribs. Leave a searing bite pulling a strangled yelp from your soft lips that makes him laugh before his mouth is at your ear for the second time today. Finally speaking dangerously low.

"Told ya I'd see ya soon, Sweetheart."

[pricetagofficial]

NO I NEED MORE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT! AABABHEHEKDHDHD PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW EVEN IF ITS LITTLE CRUMBS

Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn’t from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you’re thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst

Chapter One: The things we forget, 3.6k

A/N & wc: just something quick I whipped up

Master List

This is what you wanted isn’t it?

All along you begged the Gods for this.

Asking with hot tears streaming down your face that you wished that you weren’t here. Not dead but that you never truly existed at all. That no one could remember you and it would be that much easier to be nothing in the wind.

The Gods have a cruel sense of humor, granting your wish, much to your dismay, at an extremely shitty time in your life.

The call comes in the middle of the night, another fear you’ve had since you married him. Worry clawing up your stomach as your clammy hands reach for the phone. It’s Kirishima, it’s just Kirishima. He just wants to chat right?

At 2am he just wants to ask about your day doesn’t he?

Deep down in the very marrow of your bones you know that’s not true. Not even able to fool yourself for a second as your groggy voice shakes with a weak “H-hello?”

Keep reading

[katsukikitten]

Bakugou body mod/ piercer, he's a bit older than you almost thirty to your 25, you have to have your tongue lolled out for him to work before he can hold it in place with a tool but as he's about to grab your tongue he notices the way it quivers and shakes and for the first fucking time he's having a nasty thought about a client, about his cum hitting your tongue and mixing with your spit that starts to pool onto the sanitary paper bib he put on to catch the blood and drool. "Bakugou?" His assistant calls him, pulling him out of his stupor. With a growl he grabs onto your shaking tongue and tries to swallow desire whole from the pretty groan you make.

Instead he chokes on it.

It doesn't help how your tongue swirls around his cherry flavored gloves as he checks his work, making sure the piercing is in there correctly and that the bar is long enough for the inevitable swelling. Digits still in your mouth as he starts his lecture that most people ignore but your eyes were trained on him.

Hanging on every word.

"It's gonna hurt and it's gonna fuckin swell for the next five days. Don't call us crying about it and if your think it's infected go to the fuckin doctor. Drink cold liquids, rinse with saline or salt water or alcohol free wash after every fucking meal. That means, snacks too dipshit, until it's healed. No licking random shit, no kissing and " he removes his fingers and grabs your chin, something he definitely doesn't normally do, keeping your gaze with his own intense crimson, "No oral."

"Got it?" He lets go and you nod quickly. Eagerly as he can feel your need for praise and approval seep off of you. With his assistant out of the room now he gives a wolfish grin.

"Good girl." He watches your thighs rub together and his cock twitches from pegging you right. He gives his back to you for now to wash his hands like the sis before.

"Um, do-" you clear your throat, "Do you do nipple piercings too?"

That wolfish grin curls up on his face again as he looks you over his shoulder and blatantly stares at your chest.

"I do everything."

[katsukikitten]

Thinking about Bakugou who always gets an oversized shirt or two for his plus sized babe. His normal shirts just don't fit right, the chest too cramped and not enough material to cover your cute stomach that he adores.

But since you aren't a fan of your own body sometimes, he orders a size or two bigger. Damn Bakugou's tapered waist, often times he thinks about bulking up so he can be similar to Kirishima since that's roughly the size shirt he orders for his precious Princess.

He wears it around so it smells like him like you like, spoils you rotten when he runs the bath for you with the best bubble soap or bath bomb. Leaving you until he thinks you're ready to come out, in his hands is a warmed towel, helping you dry off before he shoves you into the skull tee.

"So sexy in my shirt." He looks you over, your powerful thighs that he imagines squeezing his head, your breasts and how they distort the skull graphic, how the fabric clings to your ribs and back and all the can think is how much he loves you. How your body makes his cock ache, weep.

And so he immediately rips off that shirt, lifting you up with ease as he swallows your moans, gripping at your soft skin and the plush of your ass before he slams you onto the bed, eyes glowing like a predator.

"Mine." He snarls gripping at your hips before he licks his lips. Coming closely as he gazes into your eyes to make sure you get the message.

"Yer fucking mine."

[katsukikitten]

Assistant producer you who's helping with this huge fashion photo shoot for Pro Hero Dynamight but the photographer keeps stopping mid shoot. The photographer keeps muttering "There's no chemistry. No vibe between them..." Until eventually they stop the shoot all together. Calling over the designer who's on set to over see. They discuss briefly amongst themselves before announcing together "Thank you for your time but we no longer need your services" to the model. Both turn to survey the set "Someone is bound to have more life in their eyes than that one." The photographer sneers as the model storms off set, your manager is handling it. So it gives you time to admire Bakugou with a soft gaze for a moment.

Suddenly they step in front of you and lock eyes. they are delighted as confusion clouds your face. "Yes yes darling this is what I'm looking for." The designer comes over to approve your look before making quick work to adjust the dress to your size. Taking quick measurements before getting to work.

"uh um wait wait." And before you know it you're in the makeup chair, wardrobe change and all of your nos go unheard.

Now you stand in front of the sneering, agitated Bakugou wondering how the hell you were going to pose with him. He sits on a throne, shirtless and this close you can see every chest hair and scar the hot headed blonde had to offer. This shot was meant for the model to be sitting on his thick, powerful thighs but still you gulp.

"Darling you sit ON his lap." The photographer gestures as they look over the shot through their lens.

"I-I don't want to hurt..."

"Shaddup and sit down would you. I wanna get this over with." When you make no motion to move Bakugou sucks his teeth. Pulling you onto his lap with a snarl as he adjusts you. Keeping his strong hands wrapped around your thigh, pushing up the expensive fabric to expose more of it, his other hand gripping at your ribs tightly, bringing you to him. Through the lens you look like his boon. Won after a great battle or war, one to rival that of Troy.

He gives a devilish smile to the camera as your brows knit upward. It is like a wolf holding a lamb.

The image broke records for the internet, magazines and the designers clothes sold out.

From that point on Bakugou said he wouldnt work with another model unless it was you.

[katsukikitten]

"GUYS GUYS IVE GOT A BAND THATS GONNA PLAY HERE ON FRIDAYS!" Kaminari slams down the band flyer for 'Tits Out'

"You're fuckin joking." You comment, looking down at the flyer with a pair of hand drawn tits before you set the plate down in front of a customer down the bar.

"Live music brings people in!" Denki defends as Bakugou sticks his head out the order window from the kitchen. His basket ball hat backwards, concealing his hair as the kitchen stifles him combined with the summer heat.

"Oi order up." He glares at Denki, "Today ain't your day off. We're swamped. Help."

"But I'm getting us a band." He says exasperated, still his fingers grab for his lightning apron you hold out to him. You and Bakugou share a look before looking over the space. The restaurant is cramped at best, a long bar top and the other wall lined with booths in one neat row. A band wouldn't fit, couldn't. Well maybe if they shoved the drum set between the side of the bar and the window it could work but it'd sound like shit.

"Yer a dumbass. Just get to work." Bakugou comments, putting up a burger and beach fries in the window, "Table four."

"Tits out could bring a huge drinking crowd!" Denki rolls his eyes as Bakugou sends a withering glare.

"Or we could have to owe back rent to Denton because you came up with a stupid idea. Again."

"Mama Mia Meatball has live music." He grumbles as he washes his hands at the small hand sink behind the food bar.

"Yea and a space three times as big. Just send this shit to table four damnit." Bakugou growls adding another plate, "And now spot seven at the bar."

"I've got it." You chime in, grabbing at the white dishes before setting them down. Only to come back with more orders for Bakugou and drinks to be refilled.

"Yea and I'm sure his rent is astronomical too."

Bakugou glares across the way, eyes narrowing as he grumbles to himself.

"But he uses cheap shit to make up for it."

The bell attached to the glass door chimes over head and Denki grabs menus, he charms the couple and talks them into an appetizer before he rounds back to Bakugou's square window.

"Listen. I know none of us actually want to be living above a dying burger joint but that's the cards we've been dealt.

"Do you like someone in the band?" You ask, popping the tops off six bottle neck beers for the group of burnt ass holes that sit at the far end of the bar already on round five before noon.

"Toots I gotta a ten dollar tip for ya if you stop talking and get over here. Now."

"Yea? We'll I've got converse to stick up your ass if you keep talking dollface." You hiss, stopping by the sink, "You already paid for the beer and I ain't scared to 86 ya."

They'd been here for two days and they were already stomping on your last nerve.

"Fucking tourists." The three of you hiss as you carry on with your daily duties and as it gets closer to noon the busier the three of you get.

[katsukikitten]

Villain Izuku has a lot of patience, especially when it comes to you. He lurks in the shadows as he pulls the strings to something much larger than himself, a long term goal he's been dreaming of for a long, long time.

He just didn't expect to fall in love with you. You who turns down every flirty and friendly advance. You who burrows under his skin, getting in his way now that you've moved agencies. Not that you knew any better, he was beneath you at that office at the time, your assistant. But now you had your who agenda, "switching sides" so to speak and as always you were a force to be reckoned with leaving Izuku with a very heavy decision.

Should he continue to turn a blind eye as you fester under his skin or should he cut you out completely?

[katsukikitten]

Imagine Rika still clinging around Yuuta well into his adulthood. And to be frank, despite Rika's and Yuuta's best efforts, the curse gets in the way. Driving people off either by their own jealousy or hers, so Yuuta is happy to be alone. At 30 he's had so few romantic relationships that he can count them on one hand and he only longed for strong, deep relationships.

You don't know him long but immediately you felt your heart race. He was handsome, although a bit shy for someone of his ranking. His smile was small, soft but when no one was looking his eyes would dull, looking out into the world. Of course you've been briefed about Rika before you were sent by the elders to assist Yuuta with some curse work. Smiling you introduce yourself, "I see that you're Yuuta but where is the beautiful Rika hiding? I'd love to say hello."

You peek over his shoulder looking at nothing while his eyebrows furrow. No one had ever asked to meet her before. Although you were briefed you never had the privy of seeing exactly what Rika looked like, you only knew two things, one she was a curse and two she was possessive of Yuuta.

Hesitantly Rika thinks, craning her neck to ask her true love "Should I? "

"If you'd like." Yuuta says softly keeping his eyes trained on you. You who smiles politely and waits for the curse to show herself. Slowly Rika materializes behind Yuuta. White thick flesh, lips pulled back over razor sharp teeth and no eyes to speak of. Yuuta expects you to flinch, most do. Not just from Rika's looks but from her sheer power.

You do not. Instead you smile wider, genuinely excited as you hold out your hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Rika-chan!" Your voice is sweet and it makes his heart race. Slowly Rika reaches out her giant clawed hand, gently grabbing onto yours, "Has anyone told you Rika chan that you have such a beautiful smile?"

They say flattery gets you no where but Rika seems to like it. Love it as she eats up your compliments about how pretty and strong she is.

As missions go by Rika likes you more and more, especially when you round up lesser curses to feed her a nice snack.

"She's pretty." Rika whispers to Yuuta one day, munching on a fresh spirit as you gulp down a water bottle.

"What a-" But you don't finish as your normally docile look goes feral, enraged, as energy gathers around your fist before you jump into the air towards Yuuta.

"Don't you dare fucking touch 'em." You snarl, landing your glowing fist into the face of a patch work curse. It vanishes beneath your blow and your eyes scan the long growing shadows. When you sense nothing you dust yourself off, looking over your smile with a smile.

"What an asshole am I right?" A small giggle escapes your lips causing Yuuta to blush. He loves the sound.

"Oh I like her. " Rika squeals with delight, before gently shoving Yuuta into you, "Talk to her "

He tries, he really does but you just take his breath away.

[katsukikitten]

Synopsis: Sold at a young age to the Okasan of a large hostess club you had a life time of debit to repay. The worst part? It wasn’t even yours. The second you’re old enough you’re thrown to the wolves but little do they know that you bite back. After ten grueling years you’re finally seeing a dent in your debt. But your Saturn return in your 28th year doesn’t take too kindly to you, not that life ever did, and you find yourself indebted to an even bigger monster.

Warnings: choking, arson, violence, major power imbalance and spitting

Chapter Three: Humiliation never tasted so bitter. wc 1005

Master List

A/N: thank @/kinjuutsu for this addition! Hopefully vi will simp over him with me 😜

Draken exhales through his nose like a dragon as Kisaki comes and takes his spot beside him. Because somehow Mikey decided he needed two helping hands.

Reckon he did with how much the gang has grown since the big merger made in hopes to keep from washing the streets in a copper tang.

The small army of men, some dressed in suits, others their street jackets, stood segregated with their former alliance despite Mikey's wishes of unity. Draken couldn't blame them, if he were standing in a crowd of hundreds of men he'd rather amongst those he considered kin. Musashi Shrine had a lot of open space and it didn't take a genius to figure out how easily a fight could break out here.

"Where's the Zombie?" Ken inquires, eyes flickering over to the step below him where the Zombie normally stood. Kisaki, per the usual, provides no answer nor expression as his dull eyes look through his golden rectangle glasses surveying. Plotting.

"OI!" Draken doesn't shout, he just raises his voice and the men start to quiet and straighten as Mikey makes his way to the top step just above Draken and Tetta.

"It's important you all listen very carefully this time around." A threat and a promise neatly woven together, should they not heed his warning they'd be dealt with personally.

And they'd all seen how far a kick from Sano could send someone.

Mikey lays out the agenda before his eyes flicker to a car that comes speeding up the narrow gravel drive just before the gate to the shrine. Figures he'd be late.

"One more thing…" The car comes to a halt and if one wasn't familiar with the viridian coupe and just who owned it, they could be a dead man if they weren't careful.

"FUCKIN ASSHOLE!" A rasped voice echoes over the quiet; and even strained it seems to shake the ground. The group keeps a divide between them, a path of sorts as Hanma brings forth a woman.

A gorgeous woman, who's huffing and gnashing at the teeth with her hands pinned behind her back by the taller man guiding her. She fights to no avail and still, even Shuji struggles to keep his footing in his designer dress shoes on the loose gravel and against the likes of a Yokai like you.

You're mostly shrouded by leaning bodies now as a murmur breaks out among the men. Leaning until the very last second to catch a glimpse of whoever is giving the God of Death such a struggle. Hissing death threats and even spitting at some of the men.

Finally the last few men straighten as Hanma makes his way to climb the stairs. Leaning back as he lifts you so your heels do not touch the concrete steps.

As Hanma brings you up, Draken's nostrils flare, his heart free falling into his stomach just to spring back and lodge in his throat.

What

The

Fuck

What the fuck was that damned Zombie doing. You were off limits. Ken Ryuguji made sure of that. Made plenty of examples, harsh ones, where men couldn't walk for weeks when he was through although you were more known to handle things on your own.

When your eyes lock with his, a flicker of emotions bubble up past the rage in your stunning iris. Shame, sadness, worry.

Fear.

A tic forks in his jaw as Hanma tries to settle you to stand next to him, free hand moving to the nape of your neck like a scruffed cat. Once Mikey determines you're settled enough and before a white knuckled Draken can make his move, he speaks.

"In light of recent developments Hanma's house was burnt down and now -"

"She's mine." Hanma interrupts, vying for the satisfaction to announce it himself, gripping at your hair to crane your neck as if he were about to mark you with a bite then and there. Draken's eyes flash murder and as the tall, broad shouldered blonde takes a step with the full intent to bloody his knuckles, again Mikey speaks.

"She's indebted to him since she is the one who committed the arson, anyone who objects or violates this order will have to deal with me."

Draken turns to Mikey only to be met with hard set eyes. The air is charged and it does nothing more than spur on Hanma who laughs loudly.

Manic in the way he's so absorbed in you. It was obvious to Shuji now that the two of you knew one another and that you really thought that Draken could have any sway in your fate. You jerk, grinding your teeth hard enough you think they'll turn to dust. It already feels as if ash is coating your tongue except this time it doesn't taste as sweet as it had all the others.

No apartment complex, warehouse, mansion, or restaurant up in flames before you. Lighting up your eyes with a devious mirth.

Nope, nothing but your own damnation up in smoke, clouding your eyes and crowding in your throat.

"Does it burn Nekomata? Being on holy ground?" Shuji licks a strip up your throat and you risk his grip tearing out a handful of hair as you turn as best you can to spit on his chest. A mix of a chuckle and growl rumbles in his throat.

"Enough." Draken seethes and Hanma can only provide a nasty grin. Relishing the power he holds over not just one but two people he has a personal vendetta against.

"Dismissed." Mikey says with finality and only now does Tetta move or even react. Pulling out a manila folder with official documents that he passes to Hanma.

"Your new address." Kisaki says calmly but his blue eyes ice over as he holds a playfully sadistic golden gaze. Within a few blinks much has been discussed between the two. Mainly 'This is too showy for a stupid slut. Even for you.' to which the dark haired man replies

'Not showy enough. Let me have my fun.'

[katsukikitten]

All I can think about is if you needed help hanging some lights in the trees for your patio, Uraraka would be the first to volunteer. She doesn't like the idea of anyone getting up on a ladder and possibly hurting themselves since she can gently float to whatever height. That and she loves your patio and your little back deck during the summers. Lots of late girls nights were held there with little more than a few candles and the stars for improvised lights. She knows youve been dying to get it set up but unfortunately just never made time for it.

So Urakaka bakugou and momo surprise you. Grabbing the lights you've had stored in your shed for a couple of years. Stringing them up while Denki keeps you busy for the day. So by the time you get home it's evening. The sun is lazily sinking behind the horizon, yawning in mellow oranges and reds. Denki asks if he can have a drink with you on the back deck and you, of course agree. Either grabbing a quick beer/hard seltzer or making him a mixed drink. Tonight you just happen to make slushie margs since it was so hot for this late spring day. Denki makes hard work of making sure you don't face your french doors or kitchen sink window as he expresses his excitement about the day. That's when you notice something is starting to smell really good.

"someone's grilling." You giggle to denki, "We should crash the party."

A jest that Denki laughs at because the two of you had done it before when Bakugou was swamped with work. The neighbors were none the wiser, besides you brought tons of drinks for ever.

"We should." Denki laughs again, "Right now come on!"

He grabs onto your wrist. Sloshing his margarita and yours as you go to take a sip. Stepping outside onto the little deck with two chairs that step down three steps to your gorgeous brick patio. Painted in the soft golden glow of the lights you bought ages ago.

"Surprise!" Shouts and normal voices as the patio is packed with your friends. Bakugou smirking and Kirishima winking from the grill. Izuku teaching Sho corn hole, Mina passing around shots to Jiro, Momo and Urakaka. Tears come to your eyes, threatening to spill over as a light breeze makes your garden flowers dance.

"Wow. I've never been so- so fucking lucky." You grab onto Denki into a big hug before making your rounds to everyone else, fighting tears from having such a great friend group despite you losing your quirk.

"Thank you."

[far-beyond-infinity]

A must read from the best writer in the fandom! Seriously this is fucking incredible. Truly a masterpiece.

You've been writing to inmates in prison for almost two years now and have helped many feel more at ease with their current situations and possible futures. So it should come to no surprise when the warden of the most notorious prison seeks out your help with a difficult inmate they can hardly contain. The task proves difficult after you receive your first letter back from Bakugou Katsuki. More infamously known as Ground Zero, and you're not so sure you can help a man this far gone.

wc 6.8k warnings: dunno but he's mean and a villain so read at your own risk. MDNI 18+ content

Congratulations!

You've been selected for a special project due to your credentials with previous inmates. Letters exchanged between you and other inmates have had a positive effect on their rehabilitation which is one step closer to getting them assimilated back to the normalcy of society. 

We ask that you help us by reaching out to inmate B-001174 Bakugou, Katsuki. He has not had mail correspondence nor a visitor due to his self isolation since his incarceration. We are hoping that a letter from the most well received correspondent begins to pave the way for a brighter future for B-001174. Please see the below instructions on what topics to avoid for inmate B-001174

Family members of any relation to inmate

Previous crimes by inmate or inmate's affiliates. 

Current crimes by inmate's affiliates or any such nature of crime 

Current events of any kind including natural disasters, diseases, political elections or anything of relation. 

Current hero rankings, change of status or death of any hero since incarceration December 18th 2XXX

Any mention of hero(es) who captured inmate listed as follows : Aizawa, Shouta - Eraserhead, Todoroki, Enji - Endeavor, Toshinori, Yagi - Allmight, Usagiyama, Rumi - Mirko 

Current known affiliates are listed as follows : Kirishima, Eijirou, Midoriya, Izuku, Shigaraki, Tomura and Todoroki, Touya. 

We appreciate your efforts in brightening the dull lives of inmates and hope you pick up your pen and do what you do best, change lives for the better! Please see the following attachments for instructions on how to address the letter and seal inside the pre-paid postage envelope before dropping it off at any post office.

Remember each letter will be opened and read for any sort of criminal activity before being passed along to the inmate. 

Sincerely, 

Warden of Tartarus Maximum Prison Facility

You flip the letter over and skim the instructions, the same as they always are expect this time there is an extra line to add, maximum security level ten, as if you had to notate some sort of alert to the mailroom for an extra thorough check of this particular piece of mail. You bite the inside of your lip, toeing off your kitten heels before padding over to your computer with letter in tow.  

The request comes as a surprise, mostly because they listed a specific inmate instead of your usual list of inmates who wished to receive mail but had ties cut from their own families or needed some semblance of someone on the outside to speak with. Never asking you to address some sort of conversation with someone who sounded like they didn't want to have one at all. 

Snarling your lip when you read the affiliates that you needed to avoid as if their government names gave you any idea of who they were, some of them anyway. 

Two with whom you were already exchanging letters with weekly. 

Your usual routine to wind down from work is lost to your undying hunger of who this person was. Although you had to admit Bakugou sounded eerily familiar. 

A quick search brings up his villain name,  Ground Zero, captured during a raid of some sort and he alone needed several heroes for his capture. His quirk was dangerous, explosions detonated by sparks along his forearms and palms from his sweat that contained nitroglycerin and it seemed as if his mental health was just as stable as the fuel to his quirk. 

Looking at him wrong set him off and he was powerful enough to level buildings from just a few juls of output from his intense explosions. Still curiosity killed the cat and you delved deeper. 

Wondering how Izuku, aka Deku, who was quirkless and Eijirou, aka Blood Riot who could harden his skin, which you knew from their letters, got caught up with a living, breathing nuke. 

Thankfully most of the documentation and footage involving Katsuki's arrest was released to the public with redactions and edits of course but what you needed was the raw data. 

Finding unofficially released footage from Mirko's body cam, the only surviving body cam between the pursuing heroes. It starts right in the midst of the action, sirens wailing  and people screaming in the background as the scene unfolds. Ground Zero and Mirko exchange blows evenly while Endevor tries to ambush him from behind. The hulking blonde smirks, as if he had no blind spot, swinging his large arm backward hitting Endeavor right in the mouth, hard enough it sends him flying.  Katsuki's bromine eyes flicker to what must be vantage points off camera as if searching for something. 

"Got that pesky ass four eyes on me huh? I'm hurt ya don't wanna play with me properly, hops." He dodges a kick to the chest, sliding back and it's obvious his prowess as a fighter is unmatched, even with his quirk silenced.

"Shut the fuck up. Ya talk too much."  Shifting her weight to fein a kick that he catches, pinning her thick leg between his sturdy ribs and strong arm as he wears the nastiest smile. One that Mirko wipes off quickly with a swift kick from her free foot straight to his handsome face. Turning his cheek and blood arcs from his mouth, still he does not stagger nor falter. 

He even still has her leg pinned as she stands awkwardly, back arched to him and her bunny tail twitches. The viewer can only see the ground and her free leg but the mic still very much catches what he says next and you're sure the smile he was wearing earlier comes back tenfold. 

"Careful hops, ya get any rougher with me and I'll cum." 

His laugh echoes shortly after and the sound should not cause your stomach to flip the way it does before the footage abruptly ends. 

Taking the time to scroll through a few more pictures and articles, trying to find where it all went wrong when really none of that was your business, still it killed you to know. 

And when you fail to find anything, fail to find that butterfly effect that puts his whole life askew, it does little to quell the uneasy feeling that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. If anything it fuels it yet still you rummage your desk for stationary and a pen. 

Sealing away the envelope once you were done and setting it by your purse to grab in the morning when you think you'll be braver. 

Or maybe less brave as you hesitate by the mail drop off box, your train fast approaching the outside terminal before you shove it into the slot quickly. 

Too late to take it back now. 

Besides what were the odds he'd even send one back?

"B-001174, got mail." The guard grunts as he slips the already open letter under the cell door, finishing his rounds before the doors would open and the inmates could roam about the pod as they saw fit. 

Katsuki snarls, he didn't get mail, letters or pictures or even the cult following he once had he'd scared 'em all off. Tired of all the stupid bullshit they spewed at him, the ideals they placed on him or the words they shoved into his mouth. Worst yet were how they justified their actions, their own wrong doings in the name of Ground Zero, too pussy to even own up to their own actions. Katsuki hated that as much as he hated liars. 

Besides he didn't ask for all that shit, didn't care. He just wanted to watch the world burn. 

Wanted to set it on fire and Katsuki's philosophy was that anything was kindling. 

That everything is kindling. 

And he thinks he should just ignite the smallest spark despite the quirk "silencing" cuffs and let the letter be devoured by the heat of his palms. 

But the return address catches his eye, the name does. It's familiar in a way he can't quite place yet. Pulling the paper out of the envelope in the meantime. The first thing he notices is the faint almost perfumey smell of coconut from the paper, not from spraying the stationary but as if it were lotion rubbing across the parchment as you wrote in long looping letters, for a moment he finds the smell pleasant. His poisonous bromine eyes slide over the letter with ease. 

Dear Bakugou, 

I heard you don't get letters very often, if any, so I hope this one finds you well. The weather is warming up quickly, the cicadas are starting to scream even though it's barely June, we'll all be sweltering come August. Summer is my favorite season, do you have a favorite? Work slows down around this time and they usually grant us extra leave so we can enjoy the weather, which is quite nice. I hope you're getting to enjoy the sun as well. 

I know cooking is one of your favorite things, I can see why. It can be relaxing or make you feel good to nourish someone else. What other hobbies do you have aside from cooking? Any favorite books or authors? Maybe I can send your favorite one in! Just let me know. 

Do you have everything you need? Do you need any money for commissary? Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all, I'm only a letter away. 

Hope to hear from you and maybe soon I can call you Katsuki. 

Much Love

He snorts as he reads the last line and it finally dawns on him from where he knows your name. Lifting himself out of his prison cot with ease, the cheap thing groaning from his bulk as he exits his cell. Heading towards the neighboring cell that holds Deku and Riot, shoving his way into the too cramped space for the bulking men. 

"Ka-kaachan!" Izuku chirps, surprised to see the hot headed blonde out of his cell and especially surprised to see Bakugou in his own. Lingering by Izuku's half with a quirked brow, his eyes roaming until they found the hidden stack of papers. 

"Gonna grab breakfast with us?" Kirishima asks as he watches large hands snatch at the pile. Instantly Izuku stands, eyes darkening as he steps towards Katsuki.

"Put those down, Kaachan." It's that fake polite smile Izuku wears before a fight, the kind that never reaches his eyes and Bakugou doesn't heed the warning, "Please."

It's clipped and now Kirishima thinks to rise, doesn't want either of them to do solitary or to deal with the month long bickering if they do get into a physical fight. 

Katsuki looks over the letters, reading them quickly and appreciating that Izuku is meticulous enough to keep them in chronological order, each one signed off the same way. Much love. 

Such bullshit. 

Izuku shoves Bakugou when he still scowls down at the papers that also smell like coconut. Katsuki drops the letters unceremoniously and Izuku scrambles to keep them from hitting the concrete floor. Bakugou already on Kirishima's side who watches with a confused glare. 

"What are you-" But Kirishima doesn't get to say much else as Katsuki lifts the thin mattress from the metal frame to find the hidden letters. Tucked away safely as if the battle worn villain took comfort in the false words in shiny black ink. 

Same return address, same name, same bull shit sign off. 

"Katsuki!" Kirishima shoves him and the blonde hardly moves, Eijirou's skin half hardening out of habit before he tries to shove again. Katsuki hits his forearm harshly, a soft pop in warning although neither could do too much with the amount of sedation and silencing that came from the collar from around their thick throats. Izuku sans silencing cuffs, has no worries about a part of him being dulled. He was built like an ox with the metabolism of a pubescent teen despite being in his late twenties so sedatives or mood stabilizers hardly have any effect. 

Bakugou tosses the letters onto Kirishima's scratchy blanket before he scoffs. 

"Tsk, believe that bullshit?" He's rolling his eyes as he leaves the cell with nothing but the rustle of paper as they try to rehide what they act like is their dirty little secret. 

God weak hearted fools were so fucking annoying. 

Post through the prison system could take some time, especially when it came to newer exchanges. It could be anywhere between two weeks to two months before you saw a reply from Katsuki. If you got one at all. 

But the thought of his phantom reply slips to the back of your head what with your current workload and the other correspondents so when you see a sealed envelope the prison's return address you think nothing of it. 

Not until you open it to see an open envelope with your address but instead of your name is spelled out Fake Bitch. 

Blinking furiously you pull out the letter, unfolding it quickly to let your eyes scan over the page, each word burning into your retinas.

Piece of shit, 

Such a pathetic fuckin slut, writing any and every desperate man behind bars you think is hot, hopin you'll get a conjugal visit. Already fucked everyone at surface level ya gotta try prison dick? 

Or is it worst than that?  Mommy and daddy didn't love ya enough? Didn't give ya enough attention so you look for it in anyone that'll give ya the time of day? Prey on those with no one to talk to knowing you'd get a reply out of desperation. 

Lickin knives all ya know sweetheart? Pretty fuckin scummy if ya ask me. 

Fuck off and die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

Now you've received your fair share of mean and asshole letters but this? This was different. 

This felt personal. 

It was rule number one you'd given yourself when you were asked to start penning letters while in a shitty place yourself. 

And yet here you were breaking it for some asshat who thought the cityscape was his to destroy. 

Heart ringing in your ears as you try to calm yourself, counting your breaths until you finally could see straight. Penning up something simple yet effective telling yourself that even if he didn't reply it didn't matter. 

You drop it into the mail the next day, two weeks later the same guard is slipping another opened letter under Bakugou's cell door. A snarl to his lip, he didn't expect you to reply and if he was being honest he may have forgotten about you, still the envelope was addressed to his inmate number and no longer is his name written in your cute script. 

While you may think you know everything there is to know about life and me, I'd like to point out your position over mine. 

Last I checked I'm not miles and miles in the ground, under heavy security, among other things a civilian wouldn't be privy to. However I will put it into lame man's terms as it seems your cognitive abilities have declined. 

I'm not the one behind bars, asshole. 

Much Hate

Bakugou clicks his tongue, he was used to the insult, wore it proudly most days but he knew his first letter would go one of two ways.

One, you'd cry when you read it and never replied to him again, which was his hope or two there was a very slim chance he'd get under your skin enough you'd feel the innate need to respond and defend yourself. 

Bakugou does what he does best and burrows further under your pretty skin twirling the pen he finds in the library with ease as he takes to writing out a delicious reply. 

Mail from Tartarus normally came on Wednesday or Thursday as if someone at the facility always forgot to send it out at the beginning of the week. So it became a part of your routine to check your PO Box you set up in a prefecture over in order to preserve your safety should something ever go awry with any of your pen pals or to receive online purchases. Mail day used to be a day you looked forward to, something to help you get through the remainder of your work week but today it was a day you dreaded. 

The excitement from seeing the others' responses in the mail is overshadowed by one particular envelope that slips out of the Manila folder that all of the letters to the same correspondent were sent in to save postage. 

You should be reading Touya's letter or hell anyone else's for that matter, yet here you stood, going for that obnoxious scrawl as he still refused to spell out your name and instead gave you some horrible insult. 

Pathetic Slut

If lying to yourself by writing half ass disingenuine letters to prisoners out of pity makes ya feel like yer changing the world then by all fucking means write away sweetheart. 

Just don't be surprised when you get an asshole response from an asshole behind bars. 

Cause we both know that's what you think of all of us don'tchya? 

Die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

It shouldn't bother you, it shouldn't burrow so deep into your skin that his inky words scratch at your bones. Like his fingers could dig around in the marrow like maggots yet still it makes your cheeks heat. Makes your eyes burn from frustration and lack of blinking as your palms sweat. 

Soles of your feet burning as you walk further into your apartment to rummage through the drawers of your desk.  Uncaring how things topple over as you furiously grab for a permanent marker, pens and books scattering over the hardwood floors. 

Heart pounding as it resounds through your body like metal striking a bell. Each beat faster, harder than the last until you think your vision starts to ehb at the edges from how much hatred burns away at any of the kindness you built up over the last decade. 

Snapping the marker in half by the time you're done writing your final letter to the asshole. 

FUCK 

YOU 

You don't read it, don't care if it makes it past screening and he never sees it at all. Shoving it into one of your personal envelopes on your desk slapping on a floral postage stamp before stomping down to the express box that sat just outside of your apartment complex. 

It takes a full week for you to calm down, another week to stop thinking about it daily, and one more week to even reply to the letters you got almost a month ago. 

An email comes in from the post office, alerting you to something being placed in your box. You hope it's the new sun dress you bought as retail therapy after a long week and an even bigger bottle of booze that you'd drained. Spending quite a pretty penny on something you didn't even really have an occasion to wear it to. 

More like a nice date, the type of dress you could dress up or down depending on what sorts of accessories you paired with it. 

Taking the train three stops past your own to head into the post office. Turning the key to your decent sized box finding within the metal your promised package. 

And on top of that a familiar manila folder with the return address to Tartarus. 

You grit your teeth, holding onto the mail harder than you should as you take those three long stops back home. Swallowing thickly as you climb your steps, the folder and plastic bag package punctured from your sharp nails as you quickly press in your seven digit key code to get into your apartment and out of the sweltering mid August air.

When your door shuts it closed off the sound of the screaming cicadas and the few crickets that lie in the green space beside your apartment as you try to force yourself to follow your nightly routine. 

Remove shoes, take off makeup, eat, shower, sleep. 

But that damn folder was burning a hole into your fingers as you go to your desk, rocking your chair side to side before you just rip it open like you'd rip off a bandaid. 

This time the letter addresses you in a new way. 

Sweetheart, 

I dare you to come say that shit to my face. You fuckin better show up Saturday other wise I'll let your precious Izu and Eiji know just how much of a fake bitch ya really are. Imagine what it would do to them? Break their hearts I'm sure.  

Ya'd hate to mess with their progress wouldn't ya? 

Don't forget to wear something cute, it'd be nice to see some fat tits in my face at the very least. If a shitty woman like you even owns anything relatively sexy.

Fuck off 

Bakugou Katsuki 

You see red, breathing deeply as you re-read the letter again, who the fuck was this asshole? Black mailing you into visiting him so it wouldn't hurt your other correspondents because Bakugou was so fucking selfish. 

So black out angry you don't seem to wake up, not when you put yourself in that sleek summer sun dress that went to your mid thigh, not when you stare at your angry scowl as you apply light make up, and especially not on the hour drive and then two hour ferry ride to Tartarus. Especially not during the twenty minute descent in a cramped elevator box with a guard in front and behind you with AKs clipped to their chests, the sweltering heat seeping down this low in the ground due to body heat and poor ventilation of the prison. 

Not until the buzzer of the barred door in front of you screams its demands, that the handle was "live" and could be opened by the guard standing in the cage between the hallway that led back to freedom and the other where you could already see toxic bromine burning into your skin. 

This was a bad idea. This was a really fucking bad idea.  

You swallow thickly, it was too late to turn back now wasn't it? The door had already swung shut as the guard came closer to you for one final inspection.

"Dress is kinda short." Katsuki can overhear the guard mumble to you, can see how the guard's fingers twitch and for some reason his own do too. He watches how the guard lingers, how the man's hand press against your body and bunches up your dress as he pats you down a little too roughly. How you bite your lip when the man squeezes your ribs and under the weight of your breasts a little too roughly. 

Katsuki is starting to see red, sweat begins to collect on his brow. He hasn't even fully seen you at least not without an obstructed view but already he can tell he likes what he sees. 

Likes how the dress clings to parts of you you'd favor, the parts you want to really highlight. How the hem flusters higher with each step of your strappy flat shoes.

Loves the scowl that pinches up your cute face when the door buzzes to allow you into the room with him and another six guards. Likes how you straighten your spine as if you've gotten fresh resolve when you come in. 

Looking at him like he was trash and he smirks, like how you don't recoil from him despite how he looks now.  

Plexiglass spit guard with metal framing afixed to his face to keep more than his salvia to himself, more so to keep his gnashing teeth away from people's skin. How his throat is encircled with a thick black collar with a red light set far past stun and closer to kill that would send an electric pulse if he misbehaved but only if they could reach their remote fast enough. 

How the silver cuffs around his thick wrists chain him to the table top, thick forearms exposed from him rolling up his bright orange suit that was harsh on the eyes thanks to the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead. Soft ash blonde hair messy at the top with a self given undercut beneath, iris so bloody red it was as if he was born straight from the calf of Ares himself. 

"Hey Sweetheart." He purrs and his voice is pure sin. 

Pure fucking sin. 

Sending a jolt straight to your clit as his pretty lips curl up into a deadly smirk, showing his sharp canines. 

Bakugou can't contain the feeling of triumph that dances in his veins, purposely egging you on in his letter with the closest Saturday knowing you'd be allowed to come on such short notice. See, most visitors needed to have thorough background checks and intensive mental testing before coming to meet anyone in maximum security five hundred meters below sea level. 

But the conniving blonde knew you were special. 

Knew the warden of Tartarus favored you and would allow you to skip these precautions, especially after what that dumbass thinks you've done. In less than a month of writing to him, that damn Deku finally added Inko-san back to his visiting list, actually came to the visit and cupped her hands. Murmuring on and on that her baby boy with the wavy emerald curls was okay. Inko cried and returned every month since.

No different for Kirishima either, adding Fat Gum, who was like a father figure to him during their shared time at UA, to his visitor list. Surprisingly Taishiro came, still comes, him and Inko car pool together. 

Not even a few heartbeats pass between the two of you before you feel your tongue slicing up the sensitive skin of the roof of your mouth. Of the hard bone of your teeth. 

"Fuck. You." The words drip with sticky poison that even one of the guards behind him flinches but not Bakugou. 

No never Bakugou Katsuki, the Ground Zero himself who leveled a city for the fucking fun of it 

He smiles, both sides of his mouth curling up and it should be disturbing how much he obviously gets off on your frustration, on your hate. But it isn't, it's almost mesmerizing how he looks at you. Like you're something to triumph and conquer, something he wants to keep for himself. 

With that you turn to leave, skirt fluttering from the movement and Katsuki can see the tattoo on your upper thigh, the ink making his mouth salivate as he wonders if he can find any more you've got hidden on that fine body. 

He lunges despite the rattling chains that keep him close to the table, still he has enough leeway to grab onto your arm in one giant hand. Foolishly you try to pull free. 

"Oh come on sweetheart. I've got a whole hour of play time for this. Yer not leaving, sit down." 

His grip on you is tight, his hand big enough to engulf half of your forearm and it gets tighter still. Hot palm making your bones creak from the pressure as he smiles up at you cruelly. All you can do is glare down at him, bore all of your hate where the two of you are connected, his skin feels electric against yours. 

"Ya know, I could probably still blow your arm off." He doesn't bother to say it quietly, chuckles when you look at the quirk silencing cuffs and collar he dons, "They ain't shit against strong quirks." 

Your eyes flash, anger spiking your blood and stupidly you strike. Hand stinging as badly as the tears that come to your eyes and threaten to fall past your lash line. Clawed fingers met with the metal framing of the glass spit guard mask that covers his mouth. Still one of your claws cuts his cheeks and he howls with laughter. 

"Like I said-" He yanks you down harshly, playful tone from his voice gone as your ribs smack into the edge of the metal table, puffs of hot breath fogging the glass of his spit guard, "Sit." 

The awkward angle forces your knees to bend, settling on to the cold metal stool while his warm fingers leave blossoms of black and blue on the skin. As if returning the favor for the cut. 

"I can feel your heart pounding princess,yer pussy throbin this hard too?" He licks his lips, laughs when you lean away from him in disgust, "Ya like it. All sluts play hard to get at first." 

Your eyes flicker to the guards behind him, all six pretend not to notice, panic shoots through your veins and the realization of just how bad of a fucking idea this was settles over you harshly. Like ice water flowing from the nape of your neck.  

He follows your gaze, even cranes his head like he didn't know who was behind him and exactly where they stood. 

"Oh them? They ain't gonna do shit. They're too scared of me. Blew a guy's head off last week." He smiles and one of the guards suddenly finds the floor interesting, "Do ya know how drugged up I am right now baby? How much force these cuffs have to use to bring my quirk down to half power?" 

Choosing not to respond you let your eyes fall back on his handsome face watching it snarl as you ignore him. 

Oh he'd make you see him. 

"What cat got yer tongue now ya scared cause I'm so strong? Invincible?" Your eyes narrow as he speaks the arrogance of this man is far beyond your comprehension. 

"You bleed like every other man." He loves the way you speak, how you wield that sharp tongue. How he wants it pressed and slashing over his own as he's two fingers deep into your tight cunt, moaning into his mouth. 

He brings the thick digits of his free hand parting gift you bestowed upon him. The long thin slash as rough pads bring smeared blood into view so he can lick away the dark red beads. 

"Bloody men are usually the most dangerous, you never know if it's his or that of another's." He lets his hot thumb roll over the cut, cauterizing the small wound hoping it scars. 

Eyes widening as he blatantly uses his quirk as if there weren't armed guards behind him. You're watching his eyes closely as he does and finally you realize what he said is true. There is a dullness to them that was lacking in the raw footage you saw all those months ago. 

Then his eyes were vibrant, sharp and slicing, much more intense then the hazy glare he gives you now. It didn't make him any less of an apex predator. 

Still watching you, recording your small movements and committing your soft skin to his memory as he studies you. 

"Got a quirk?" He grunts out after a moment, after he collects whatever information he was looking for, "I wanna guess first. Manipulation?" 

He smirks at his own joke and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore how his thumb swipes at the underside of your forearm idly. How the motion twists your stomach violently with dizzying emotions. 

Rolling your eyes before you scoff an answer, "No. Besides you expect me to manipulate through what? Ink?" 

"Ya never know. Went to school with some asshole whose quirk was comic book sound effects." He leans back never letting go but now his hand is around your wrist. His fingers twitch when he looks at yours, fights the urge to roughly lace them with his own. 

"Well I don't. Manipulate I mean." You adjust in your seat, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, "And I won't disclose whether I have a quirk or not." 

"Haaah? Worried I'll like it?" When you don't answer he adds, "Is it compatible with mine?" 

Slowly blinking at him trying not to read into what you think he means. He groans at your silence, the higher dosage of his morning meds finally catching up making him a little lethargic. Taking his edge off when all he wants to do is rise over the crashing wave of the pending high he can barely keep at bay and whisk you out of the depths of hell the two of you currently sit in. 

"So then what? You just used regular words to manipulate them?" He fights back a yawn. 

"Who?" Your ribs still ache from his actions earlier, it doesn't warn you like it should. 

"Don't play fuckin stupid, Sweetheart." He's lurching into your space again, hand moving back over your bruise. It makes your stomach clench when it shouldn't, especially not as the chains rattle against the metal table top, serving as a heavy reminder of the setting of this conversation. 

Still his breath comes in quick puffs as it fogs up the glass again, "Shitty hair. Deku." 

Your brows furrow for a moment, another groan from him. 

"For fucks sake." Light squeeze of your arm as he spits their names, "Fuckin nerdy ass Izuku. Eijirou."

"I can't talk about them." Looking away from his darkened eyes that flash with a fury of emotion.

"Who's stoppin ya? Them?" He tilts his head towards the guards, "I told ya-" 

"B-001174, you have five minutes left for visitation." A voice crackled over an old speaker in the visitation cell, "Please remove your hands from the guest or we will apply force." 

The small light on his collar flashes red and he just smirks, looking up, well above your head. Staring directly at the warden like he knows exactly where he stood behind the two way mirror. 

"Yea? You'll apply force? Go ahead. Nothin but a little shock t' me but t' her? She'll die warden." There is no mirth in his smirk, lips twitching as his eyes are shrouded in dark warning, "And we wouldn't want that would we?" 

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine, the haze of whatever sedative they had him on is now gone and you're left sitting across from those vibrant radioactive eyes. Burning through the mirror to sear the warden's skin in a threat, a promise. 

A buzz rings out as the seventh guard comes in, he scrunches his nose and it makes his oddly shaped mustache twitch. 

"Miss." He grunts holding out his hand for you to take too close in your personal space for your liking. Slapping it out of your face before following your right arm down to where Katsuki held fast. Peeling off his thick digits with your finely manicured claws. 

He hisses at the loss of contact, glaring at the guard when his hands hover close and the older man is smart enough not to antagonize a literal monster. Katsuki stands suddenly, a scream comes from the bolts securing metal to metal as he rips the table out of the ground, unable to break the chains for now. 

Everyone but Bakugou in the room freezes, guns cocked and aimed at the bulking villain who rose to his full height, sticking his prison issued white shoe onto the seat he just sat on to push down roughly. Thick thigh muscles straining against the fabric of the bright orange pants. A smile to his face when the chains finally snap and he can move his hands more freely before ripping off the plexiglass spit guard letting it clink on to the ground. His large hands run through his hair as if to fix it. 

"I'm entitled to a proper fuckin good bye." He hisses at everyone in the room, they keep their guns aimed at him but make no move to pull any trigger. 

Katsuki stalks closer, a wall of muscle, broad chest and shoulders, slim waist that leads down to powerful legs and you try not to let your breath catch in your throat. 

Try not to let the big bad wolf win by letting him know just how scared you were. Over how impressive it was that he snapped reinforced titanium chains so easily. 

He's well within your arms reach now, so close heat radiates from his chest. 

"I'll see ya soon, Sweetheart." He bids you a final goodbye, waving his fingers that pop with burning caramel explosions. You're not sure why it sets you off, maybe it was the way he wore that stupid smirk on his face, maybe it was the way he demonstrated his power or his dominance in an attempt to intimidate you one last time. 

Maybe it's the way he was arrogant enough to think you'd waste six hours round trip on his ass ever again. 

Either way it makes your temper flair, burrows deep into your subdermis to scarpe at your bones one final time before you unknowingly seal your own fate. Not knowing how his body would react to your parting words. 

"There won't be a next time. I came here for one thing and that was to say fuck you." Delivered with just as much clotting venom as it was before, middle finger held high.

His smirk turns deadly, blowing out a snort as he leans closer as if to share a secret. You can smell the cheap commissary soap that clings to his skin that's starting to lose out to the rapidly building nimbus of smoking caramel that clouds the air as his lips press to your ear.  

"Don't have t'. I'll come to you." He pulls back and winks as you're guided out of the room, glare fixed on him as he stands unbothered. 

He's lying, prisoners lie all the time especially if they think they can get the upper hand. He couldn't come to you. He couldn't escape prison for starters and lastly there was no way in hell he'd ever find out where you lived.  The prison made sure of that by always including a fresh envelope with their own return address in the top left corner, you should know. You only triple checked each time you sealed away the letter, even a fourth time at the post box staring down at the address on the envelope making sure both were correct.

So fuck Bakugou Katsuki for being a dirty liar, fucking hypocrite.

Shoving yourself into an oversized shirt after your body shower you finally get to plop down into bed. Relishing the feel of fresh sheets and blankets as you sigh deeply. It had been a long, long day and no amount of self care could get his toxic blood red eyes out of your head.

Switching on the TV to pull up some show to numb your mind with familiarity when the channel cuts out. Breaking news flashing across the screen makes your body go rigid. 

A prison break from Tartarus has occurred in the late evening hours, several high profile villains are believed to have escaped such as Shigaraki Tomura, Todoroki Touya, aka Dabi, Kirishima Eijirou aka Blood Riot,  Midoriya Izuku aka Deku and Bakugou Katsuki better known as Ground Zero. Please do not approach suspected escapees, please report any suspicious person or activities immediately. Most importantly keep all doors and windows locked at all times. I repeat do not engage with the inmates. 

A knock comes from your left, making you jump out of your skin as you fist the sheets. A cold sweat breaking out over your skin in goose flesh as your hearing rings in your ears. Unable to bring yourself to look at the sliding glass door to your balcony just yet as if you could ignore it and the cause of the sound would simply go away.

Another rapt of knuckles pulls your attention once more before you finally dare to peek to see glowing red eyes peering in. The devil himself at your door and you knew better than to let him in. 

Knew better that a locked door couldn't keep him out. 

Bromine burning in the night like ever fanned flames, orange jumpsuit obnoxiously out of place against the night sky, stained in deep burgundy red and ash grays, the same colors streaking his face before he knocks again. But this time it's in warning, hard enough to rattle the door that you both know he could rip off the track with ease.

"How- how did you?" Teeth chattering that you grit closed still refusing to give in to his tactics until he presses a small envelope against the glass. Your personal envelope with your real home address listed for return. 

Panic bubbles up your throat in a scream that dies at the back of your teeth as you sit frozen a minute longer while he gives a predatory grin, large hands pressing against the glass before his palms glow bright orange. Brighter than his jumpsuit before the glass shatters and your scream finally escapes your lungs. 

In an instant he's towering over you, palms pressing into biting shards as he cages you against the plush comforter dipping his head low so he can nose at your throat, hot palm at your ribs. Leave a searing bite pulling a strangled yelp from your soft lips that makes him laugh before his mouth is at your ear for the second time today. Finally speaking dangerously low.

"Told ya I'd see ya soon, Sweetheart."

[katsukikitten]

Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn't from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you're thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst

Chapter One: The things we forget, 3.6k

A/N & wc: just something quick I whipped up

Master List

This is what you wanted isn't it?

All along you begged the Gods for this.

Asking with hot tears streaming down your face that you wished that you weren't here. Not dead but that you never truly existed at all. That no one could remember you and it would be that much easier to be nothing in the wind.

The Gods have a cruel sense of humor, granting your wish, much to your dismay, at an extremely shitty time in your life.

The call comes in the middle of the night, another fear you've had since you married him. Worry clawing up your stomach as your clammy hands reach for the phone. It's Kirishima, it's just Kirishima. He just wants to chat right?

At 2am he just wants to ask about your day doesn't he?

Deep down in the very marrow of your bones you know that's not true. Not even able to fool yourself for a second as your groggy voice shakes with a weak "H-hello?"

Kirishima comes out and just says it. Explains it all but it's as if he's speaking a different language. You barely make out Bakugou and the name of the hospital before the ringing in your ears is deafening. He goes on for what feels like hours as your mind plays out grotesque, horrifying images of what may be left if your husband.

He never got hurt.

Ever.

He promised.

He fucking promised he'd be okay. He always does when he kisses you goodbye. When you say stay safe and he affirms with a hum and "I will. For you I will."

But you didn't say stay safe this time did you? No you spat insults at him, hormonal, pms fueled rage over something he couldn't even control.

He was a superhero. He should be able to control everything.

"Sweetheart, I'm fuckin late." Is what he growled and when he leaned in for a kiss. You leaned away.

"That's it. I'm coming to get you." Kirishima hisses about to hang up when you tell him you're fine. That you'll be there and he can go home to his own worrying and extremely pregnant wife.

You use your quirk, illegally, flying at the speed of light to get to the hospital. Rushing out the syllables of your new last name, Bakugou in such a rush the nurse asks you three more times before you spy Kirishima's hands running through his red mane as he steps outside an ICU room.

Pushing past the nurse, biting your tongue as you rush towards Kirishima. Ignoring his warning as he tries to catch you as you slip under his large arms. Through the heavy door and pulling past the curtain.

It's worse than you imagined and yet still not as bad. He's unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face but thankfully no tube snaking down his throat. You launch yourself at his side, the slow beep from the monitor by your head reassures you he was still breathing.

Still alive.

Your palms are clammy again as it all comes rushing into focus. With each beep comes new information piled on top of the other. First is the pungent smell of cleaner. Disinfecting anything and everything until it's bleaching the lining of your lungs. Then comes the cold, thick plastic of the bed handle beneath your hands. Groaning from your grip as your heart rate increases.

Beep

The stiff blankets, they're scratchy and all wrong. Bakugou doesn't like this type of "cheap shit". He's more high maintenance than you. He likes tightly woven or soft down comforters.

Beep

Red, the bandages on his chest are weeping red. So much fucking color clashing with the white gauze. That can't be right. It'll get on this stupid scratchy blanket. The sharp inhale brings in more sanitation, your breath becomes more shallow. Teeth grinding and competing with the sound ringing in your head.

Beep

It's dark, it's so fucking dark in here you can barely see. Where are his eyes? Why won't his eyes open? You're whispering his name so softly like you do when he's worked overnight and you're leaving for work by mid morning. His crimson eyes always open. Always crinkle when he says goodbye. Why can't you see his fucking eyes?

Beep

Why

Beep

Is he gonna..

Beep

"Hey." A solid hand clamps onto your shoulder pulling you out of your spiral. Bringing you to shore with his rough grip, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

At some point Kirishima has pulled up the reclining chair for you, offering it silently with one of those stupid, shitty scratchy blankets. You feel your skin crawl and not from the low thread count.

Eyes flickering back towards your husband of three years.

Three whole years and he's just going to leave like this? Like a candle snuffed out by…by

By some damn extra?!

Kirishima watches your labored breathing, he is never going to go back on the promise he made his best friend and the one Bakugou made in turn.

"She's stubborn. Look after her if something fuckin happens."

"I'm staying with you. I'll ask the nurse to-"

"No!" It comes out too quick, too loud as you turn on him like a wild animal. For just a moment you can see it. Dully reflected in his eyes in this damned low light, your reflection. What he sees.

A scared little girl who's about to lose her shit.

You clear your throat, straightening your back before you breathe out deeply.

"Your wife is going to pop any minute. You need to be available for her." You say sternly, pretending this was something so much more mundane. Like you've missed the bus or the taxi Bakugou sent for you.

A small inconvenience, yea that's all this was. You were just going to be late, late to see Bakugou and-

"You're sure?" Thunderous voice threatens to crack, looking over his friend, making it harder on you.

"Yes. You're injured, yourself. Besides your paternity leave starts the second she goes into labor and as office manager I do have a say on that. In fact it starts now." There it is, there's that stern voice he's used to. The light scolding you've always given him and Bakugou for the last five years.

Kirishima seems to give it some thought, a lot of thought.

"Eiji, please I'll be okay." You smile up at him, lips twitching at how difficult it is to turn them upward when all you want to do is scream. Scream until the burn of bleach is replaced from the raw emotion that's bubbling up your throat.

The large man shifts his weight, debating giving you a hug and when he sees your body closed off, hands white knuckled on the bed frame he thinks better of it.

"You better call me if you need anything. At least give me that okay?"

"Okay." You appease him, still forcing the smile and hoping he'll get the fuck out.

Finally he does, staring you down with a soft goodbye and a stern I mean it that you wave off. Until finally he shuts the big, scary door.

Leaving you alone with that sound that is both reassuring and yet nauseating.

Beep

Beep

Beep

And this time you can't hold back the tears.

Crying enough tears to fill up two weeks. Almost drowning in the amount shed as the doctor reassures you he'll wake soon. He has healthy brain wave activity and he's breathing on his own.

"All good signs. Try more of his favorite music."

It's all they can say. All they can give you to cling onto as you replay your last words to him.

Hateful, cruel things.

Over the stupidest fucking fight.

"It's because you're still in love with her!"

Throwing insecurities in his face and for what?

Suddenly his heart rate monitor beeps loudly, quickly chirping the increase in speed as you watch his eyes move beneath his long lashes.

Before they flutter open, looking over at you with… with

With disgust.

Your heart hammers in your chest. Was he? Was he still mad at you?

"H-hey Suki." You go to reach for the hairs that cling to his damp forehead only to be caught in his deadly hot and tight grip, "Katsuki, you're hurting me."

His free hand rips the mask from his face as he looks over at you with harsh set eyes. The intensity weakened only by his groggy state.

"Don't use my given name." A threat that has your eyes watering, "I don't even fuckin know you."

He tosses your hand back into your lap as if you were trash, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Where's my wife?"

"I am your -" But he cuts you off.

"Where the fuck is Momo?!"

Momo, Bakugou's first wife, comes quicker than you'd like. Wrapping her arms around you, sickeningly sweet perfume chokes you out, almost drowning out the harsh chemicals of the room. She came straight from the movie set, long lavish dress fit for the Mafia Princess character she was playing in some new film.

The same very ex wife who you claimed Bakugou wasn't over. Gritting your teeth as she fusses over you, as if you were a delicate thing that could break any minute and not Bakugou who lies under that itchy blanket.

"Momo, darlin." He croaks and she visibly flushes. Rushing to him, spying the blanket as well before she's using her quirk to make something more to his liking.

"Baby why weren't you here?" You can hear the strain in his voice, the emotion he's biting back as she looks down at him confused, "Are you still filming that dumb super hero movie?"

"Bakugou-"

"Katsuki." He corrects sharply, even moving his mask that the doctors fought to put back on to make sure she heard it. Momo looks over her shoulder cautiously to gauge your reaction.

"Katsuki…" It feels odd to form the syllables on her tongue, "I finished that movie seven years ago…"

"Wha-what?"

"I'm also…Ba-" His glare causes Momo to correct herself, "Katsuki, doll, we aren't married anymore. We divorced. You're married to her now."

Momo pulls you into view and Bakugou stares at his ex and "current" wife.

A long, heavy moment of silence passes before the heart monitor beeps furiously. The smell of caramel permeating the room much too quickly before the doctor rushes in.

Just as Bakugou takes in a breath to start yelling, pulling at the mask and almost ripping out his IV his body goes slack. The doctor was barely faster than him, injecting him with something to lull him back to sleep.

Especially since explosives and oxygen did not mix well.

The doctor blinks rapidly having just caught the tail end of the conversation. Memory loss was normal, expected, but possibly six years or more…

Well that wasn't, even with his long history of concussions.

With the quick assessment he turns to the two women in the room. Debating on just how to go about this as bedside manner wasn't always his strong suit.

"What I'm about to say may be difficult for you two however keep in mind this is what is going to be best for the patient and his recovery. Since he is experiencing amnesia we will have to go along with what he thinks is true right now. Just like one would when someone has dementia. There will be less stress on his body if we indulge in his perceived reality."

"For how long?" Momo asks tentatively. Doctor Yashido takes a sharp inhale.

"Until his memories return."

"And how long will that take?" Two different tones ask in unison. One a frustrated bark the other laced with deep concern.

"Could be weeks. Could be months." He swallows thickly, Yashido never was good at delivering bad news and this was almost as bad as it gets, "If they ever return at all."

The hospital floor falls away from beneath your feet. Causing you to plummet into the deep dark depths. Questions buzzing in your head battling alongside the screaming. The sound echoes in your mind whipping up the thoughts of Bakugou having never loved you. Of Bakugou thinking so little of you, of finding you so fucking annoying, like the gnat you were he went and forced himself to forget the last three years of your marriage and taking it a step further by going back far enough to forget you existed at all.

Isn't this what you wanted? What you wished for that night? That you'd wake up and you hadn't existed at all?

Beep

This wasn't about you. Fuck this was about him. Would he be happier with Momo? He never really did say why they broke up. He always said it was "just mutual" and left it at that.

Beep

At least he was alive right? You could watch him from afar again. Watch the star rise as your feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.

Beep

You could forget he ever brought you up in the night sky to dance along with him. It would be easy right?

"Love." Momo calls for the third time, manicured hands on your shoulders, "Why don't you go home for some rest. And a shower."

You stare up at her blankly, at the doctor who gives a curious look before you slowly nod.

"Yea….yea that's a good idea."

Returning the next day proves painful as you see Momo has changed, stunning even in leggings and a cropped shirt. Even took the initiative to alter the decor of his ICU room. Soft yellow string lights, a humidifier, soft fluffy blankets and silky sheets that Bakugou might bleed on anyway if he didn't stop moving around so much.

It's awkward to stand in the corner and watch them interact. To watch everyone else interact with the man you so desperately wanted to see.

And wanted him to see you in return.

But he can't now, he doesn't even know your name. And everytime you come close to the bed he stares at you with such discontent, with suspicion as if you were the dirty liar in the room.

Kirishima falls back, bumping his shoulder into yours gently. You look up at him with deep bags under your eyes.

"Mina is worried about you, ya know. She says you can stay at our place if your apartment is too…much." He offers with a strained smile, you place another lip twitching half assed smile on your own mouth.

"I'll be fine."

Yet the late hours of the night, all alone in your too big apartment, curled into his pillow that is slowly losing the smell of him haunt you the most.

A few more weeks pass and even with Bakugou's restlessness the doctors argue with him about downgrading his stay to general admission. They instead move him from the ICU to the neurology floor, making this the longest Bakugou had ever been in the hospital to date. Meeting even more doctors that now talk to both you, for legal reasons and Momo, for Bakugou's fantasy, about his brain damage.

How there is hardly any and that there were many things about the brain that we as humans had yet to understand.

But that was his whole fucking job wasn't it? To study the brain and unlock its god damn mysteries. Not tell you you were shit out of luck and non-existent to your very real husband who was in such a twisted reality.

It's baffling to see his scans, to hear nothing is wrong. Painful to see the love in his eyes that shine for Momo and not a spark for you.

How odd it is to share your husband with his ex wife.

Sometimes you're brave enough to sit closer to him like you are today. Steeling your nerves against his harsh interrogation as if you were the nasty villain that put him here in the first place. Sitting second to Momo who holds his hand or smooths down his blanket. Watching the days bleed together as her once, almost forced and polite smile turns into something else.

Turns real, genuine.

It makes your stomach churn.

"The fuck are ya still doing here extra?" He hisses at you when he wakes from a nap, Momo shushing him. Scolding him about being rude and he counters.

"What's rude is that she fuckin exists! Why is she fuckin here, Sweetheart?" Your heart falls into your stomach. Throat closing up as your body rejects this.

Rejects everything, especially the sound of his nickname for you aimed at someone else. At someone you're stupidly jealous of. At someone whose fault this could never be and who has only ever shown you kindness.

Sent your flowers on your birthday.

Avoided hero galas the two of you went to.

"Katsuki!" No correction on his name now, Momo having settled into his given name once again and quickly at that.

"No, it's okay. I'll- I'll get us some coffee, Momo." You say abruptly getting up. Wanting comfort from no one but the man that just cut you with his sharp tongue.

He's just groggy. It's cause he's hurting. It's the meds that are saying that.

The same excuses echo through your head as you walk through the halls, air thick with intangible weight as you trudge towards the sludge machine painted in coffee labels.

You wondered what exactly the air was thick with. Grief most likely, of lives forever altered resting on the shoulders of sobbing loved ones who could barely hold themselves up but were now expected to carry the weight of the world.

Or maybe it was resentment, festering anger. Angry that this happened. Angry at God or the Gods or at no one in particular that let this happen to their loved one.

All you knew was that the air was thick with it. Smothering you with every futile breath you took.

Somehow you make it back to the room, muscle memory must have guided you back here. Toeing open the door that you left slightly ajar quietly.

Only to find a sleeping Bakugou, breathing even and heart rate lazy, slow. Momo sighs softly as she pushes his ash blonde hair away from his forehead murmuring ever so softly.

"Why'd I leave again?"

The paper cups in your hands crush easily. The scalding liquid burning in your hands as Momo startles from the sound. But nothing burns as badly as the angry tears you're holding back.

Maybe you should leave. Give these two their happily ever after.

Maybe everyone was right. Bakugou was a lot to handle. Mitsuki had said so herself. Saying you'd never be good enough for her son as long as you stayed weak willed.

Weak hearted.

"You won't last four years with my son. Mark my words. You'll give up on him because he's too good for you, Momo was the better fit."

She muttered them to you as she pulled the veil over your blurring vision before you walked down the aisle to her son.

You never did tell him. And now you never would.

Mind made up as you storm from the hospital room. Biting your lip until you tasted blood as you held yourself back. A war raging inside your head.

He's just lost his memories, that's all this is. No you fucking idiot his love for Momo was stronger.

Soon you're marching up the stairs to your shared apartment, almost snapping the key off in the lock from the sharp turn of your wrist. Rushing inside without bothering to remove your shoes as tears cloud your eyes. Threatening to fall in fat drops as you rummage through the closet for your suitcase. Stacking it haphazardly with random items in the room. A small painting, your charger, random clothes and jewelry. All the while murmuring to yourself before you bully your way into the en suite.

Gathering things here and there before you see it. The box catching your eye that has you instantly nausted.

It's quiet for a moment. The buzzing in your throat and head silenced by your intense concentration.

Before erupting with a raw scream shoving everything off of the granite in one foul swoop.

Shattering his expensive cologne and your pricy perfume onto the wood grain tile. The scents meld together reminding you of hot dinner dates the two of you never made it to. Too busy fucking on the vanity counter, staring at one another in the mirror. Now all that stares back at you is a ghost. Hollow eyes and a heavier heart.

Biting your lip you stare at the black box on the floor, torturing yourself by picking it up. The rectangular shape feels different in your hands, the rounded edges feel sharp as you gently unwrap the gift as if you didn't know what sat inside.

Two white tests. Neatly capped and set in tissue paper. Two solid pink lines on one test and the other written clear as day in digital text Pregnant

With finality you slam the box into the trash with such force the can falls over. The other several tests toppled out indicating the same thing. Confirming what your blood tests results in your voicemail echoed back to you from your OBGYN

Congratulations!

The sound of her voice rings in your head. Was it a "congratulations", was it really?

This is what you wanted right? A baby?

To not exist? To fall off the face of the earth?

Fate is a twisted and cruel thing, giving but always taking its hefty price as tears burn your eyes, bags packed leaving the once shared apartment.

The universe only gave you what you wanted right?

So congratulations, you got exactly what you wanted.

You were finally forgotten.

[katsukikitten]

"Look at them, advertising their air conditioning and shit." Bakugou growls staring across the street arms crossed across this toned chest. His stack of laminated menus cleaned and sets of silver neatly rolled. Your stack half done and Denki's...well his was untouched.

"Don't be mad that their landlord isn't a dickhead like ours." You tap his shoulder with a cherry bomb popsicle as you pop yours in your mouth.

"Tch Bastards." Bakugou grumbles, unwrapping the popsicle with steeped agitation. The sun is starting to set, the lunch rush and dinner rush gone with nothing to show for it except for the sweat stain forming on Bakugou's backwards cap. You fan yourself with one of the menus you've just cleaned.

"Oh let it rest Bakubabe." You roll your eyes and he turns to growl at you, hating that stupid fucking nickname you've given him.

Denki would argue it's better than the heated silence the two of you shared for the first year, even in the apartment upstairs because someone , Bakugou, couldn't keep his mouth shut when he first saw you. "We don't need a Princess moving in, we need someone willing to get dirty."

As if you couldn't wear a summer dress and wait tables. Stupid asshole.

The bell chimes overhead as a large man with his dark hair tied back takes a seat at the third stool from the door. It was directly across from the coffee machine and beer cooler, plus the seat could see into the kitchen pretty well.

"Hey Eiji, love." You smile, flipping up the bar door for you and Bakugou to get back to work. He bites off the rest of his popsicle with a grimace.

"Hey Sunshine." He winks and Bakugou grunts making into the kitchen, "Been a hot one."

"Don't fucking mention it." You and Bakugou growl in unison. Grabbing for your bottle opener the bell chimes overhead again.

A scruffy guy comes in, guitar case in his hand, looking around.

"Can I help you darlin?" You ask but he doesn't even acknowledge you, just keeps the door open letting the fucking heat back in. He looks over his shoulder and shouts.

"This is it! Load 'er up!" He announces as a couple of guys in black shirts starts to bring in equipment.

"Who's this?" Kirishima asks as you set down his usual beer as slaps down two fresh patties and four slices of bacon.

"We're tits out!" One of the guy says proudly as he rolls in his drum set.

"Oh cool. Music." Kirishima says, grabbing at the neck of the bottle tipping the glass to his lips.

"Don't fucking encourage this." Bakugou growls from the kitchen. Bakugou hopes you'll handle whatever this is, his least favorite thing was leaving food unattended, "Where the fuck is dunceface?"

"Speak of the devil." You grit your teeth as you watch the electric blonde jog across the street and pop into the restaurant.

"Guys! Guys!" Denki struggles to catch his breath clutching his knees, "There's a -"

Before he can finish the dreaded sound of a bus hissing to a stop pulls your eyes to the street.

The band is unplugging the neon open sign and the neon burger sign in the corner for their amps as the drum kit sets up in the small bump out of the window.

"Please go to Mama Mia's. Please go to Mama Mia's." You hit the counter with the bottle opener and when the people cross the street headed for your door and an hour before close, you scramble to clean off the booth in the corner, "Shit. Bakugou it's about to be full fucking house."

"What?!" He growls, popping his head out of the order window to see the incoming crowd before he points his spatula to Denki, "Is this you?!"

"Nah nah this is the power of Tits Out." The guitarist puffs his chest out, producing his phone to show off his Tweet with the location. Fifty likes and a few retweets at most.

"Oh my god." You pinch the bridge of your nose, holding out Denki's apron.

"GUYS GUYS IVE GOT A BAND THATS GONNA PLAY HERE ON FRIDAYS!" Kaminari slams down the band flyer for 'Tits Out'

"You're fuckin joking." You comment, looking down at the flyer with a pair of hand drawn tits before you set the plate down in front of a customer down the bar.

"Live music brings people in!" Denki defends as Bakugou sticks his head out the order window from the kitchen. His basket ball hat backwards, concealing his hair as the kitchen stifles him combined with the summer heat.

"Oi order up." He glares at Denki, "Today ain't your day off. We're swamped. Help."

"But I'm getting us a band." He says exasperated, still his fingers grab for his lightning apron you hold out to him. You and Bakugou share a look before looking over the space. The restaurant is cramped at best, a long bar top and the other wall lined with booths in one neat row. A band wouldn't fit, couldn't. Well maybe if they shoved the drum set between the side of the bar and the window it could work but it'd sound like shit.

"Yer a dumbass. Just get to work." Bakugou comments, putting up a burger and beach fries in the window, "Table four."

"Tits out could bring a huge drinking crowd!" Denki rolls his eyes as Bakugou sends a withering glare.

"Or we could have to owe back rent to Denton because you came up with a stupid idea. Again."

"Mama Mia Meatball has live music." He grumbles as he washes his hands at the small hand sink behind the food bar.

"Yea and a space three times as big. Just send this shit to table four damnit." Bakugou growls adding another plate, "And now spot seven at the bar."

"I've got it." You chime in, grabbing at the white dishes before setting them down. Only to come back with more orders for Bakugou and drinks to be refilled.

"Yea and I'm sure his rent is astronomical too."

Bakugou glares across the way, eyes narrowing as he grumbles to himself.

"But he uses cheap shit to make up for it."

The bell attached to the glass door chimes over head and Denki grabs menus, he charms the couple and talks them into an appetizer before he rounds back to Bakugou's square window.

"Listen. I know none of us actually want to be living above a dying burger joint but that's the cards we've been dealt.

"Do you like someone in the band?" You ask, popping the tops off six bottle neck beers for the group of burnt ass holes that sit at the far end of the bar already on round five before noon.

"Toots I gotta a ten dollar tip for ya if you stop talking and get over here. Now."

"Yea? We'll I've got converse to stick up your ass if you keep talking dollface." You hiss, stopping by the sink, "You already paid for the beer and I ain't scared to 86 ya."

They'd been here for two days and they were already stomping on your last nerve.

"Fucking tourists." The three of you hiss as you carry on with your daily duties and as it gets closer to noon the busier the three of you get.

[katsukikitten]

You wipe the same spot on the counter for the hundredth time, anxiously looking at the clock before you read behind you digging around in the ice well for a cold neck bottle beer.

Popping the top and pacing it down for Kirishima as the clock ticks on.

"You look extra pretty today Sweetheart." Kirishima comments, looking your sundress up and down. All your tattoos peaking out from under the hem on your thick thighs, the top of it dipping lower than your normal t shirts and a necklace that spells out Princess.

"Hot date?"

"Hmm?" You break your gaze from the clock, "I guess you could say that."

"Yea? Ya nervous or something?" He teases, taking a bite of his grilled chicken special.

"K-kinda." You giggle. You aren't sure you can tell one of your best customers that you're headed out with a guy who's more of a booty call than anything else. It was his idea for the date, you just don't wanna fuck it up.

"Who's the lucky guy?" He asks before the roar of a motorcycle speeding through the slow street. The bike comes to a harsh, screeching stop in front of the restaurant.

"Bakugou I'm clocking out!" You holler, quickly undoing your black apron and slamming it on the counter.

Denki and Bakugou glare after you as you hop onto the back of the bike. Wrapping around the toned waist of a brunette before you're speeding off into the night.

Kirishima hears Bakugou suck his teeth, grumbling from the kitchen scrapping the grill with extra aggravation and Denki slams his silver in the napkins he rolls harsher than normal. Eijirou's dark brow quirks up.

"I'm sensing some animosity." He looks to the other men, "We don't like motorcycle man?"

"Fuck no." "HELL NO!" Denki is louder than Bakugou before Denki continues.

"He's a total ass! He's just using her. Like Shindou is just this douche bag bar tender at Hoots who acts like a bad ass." Denki grumbles, slamming the silver as he talks.

"Why an ass? I've done some handy work at Hoots. He's been nice enough." Kirishima takes a swig from his beer before Bakugou's spatula clatters on the cast iron grill.

"He's just trying to get under that skirt. Nothing else."

"And you’re not?" Garnet clashes with Ruby before Bakugou gives a nasty snarling answer.

"No."

"GUYS GUYS IVE GOT A BAND THATS GONNA PLAY HERE ON FRIDAYS!" Kaminari slams down the band flyer for 'Tits Out'

"You're fuckin joking." You comment, looking down at the flyer with a pair of hand drawn tits before you set the plate down in front of a customer down the bar.

"Live music brings people in!" Denki defends as Bakugou sticks his head out the order window from the kitchen. His basket ball hat backwards, concealing his hair as the kitchen stifles him combined with the summer heat.

"Oi order up." He glares at Denki, "Today ain't your day off. We're swamped. Help."

"But I'm getting us a band." He says exasperated, still his fingers grab for his lightning apron you hold out to him. You and Bakugou share a look before looking over the space. The restaurant is cramped at best, a long bar top and the other wall lined with booths in one neat row. A band wouldn't fit, couldn't. Well maybe if they shoved the drum set between the side of the bar and the window it could work but it'd sound like shit.

"Yer a dumbass. Just get to work." Bakugou comments, putting up a burger and beach fries in the window, "Table four."

"Tits out could bring a huge drinking crowd!" Denki rolls his eyes as Bakugou sends a withering glare.

"Or we could have to owe back rent to Denton because you came up with a stupid idea. Again."

"Mama Mia Meatball has live music." He grumbles as he washes his hands at the small hand sink behind the food bar.

"Yea and a space three times as big. Just send this shit to table four damnit." Bakugou growls adding another plate, "And now spot seven at the bar."

"I've got it." You chime in, grabbing at the white dishes before setting them down. Only to come back with more orders for Bakugou and drinks to be refilled.

"Yea and I'm sure his rent is astronomical too."

Bakugou glares across the way, eyes narrowing as he grumbles to himself.

"But he uses cheap shit to make up for it."

The bell attached to the glass door chimes over head and Denki grabs menus, he charms the couple and talks them into an appetizer before he rounds back to Bakugou's square window.

"Listen. I know none of us actually want to be living above a dying burger joint but that's the cards we've been dealt.

"Do you like someone in the band?" You ask, popping the tops off six bottle neck beers for the group of burnt ass holes that sit at the far end of the bar already on round five before noon.

"Toots I gotta a ten dollar tip for ya if you stop talking and get over here. Now."

"Yea? We'll I've got converse to stick up your ass if you keep talking dollface." You hiss, stopping by the sink, "You already paid for the beer and I ain't scared to 86 ya."

They'd been here for two days and they were already stomping on your last nerve.

"Fucking tourists." The three of you hiss as you carry on with your daily duties and as it gets closer to noon the busier the three of you get.