#please just use your words man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 14 days ago

Text

KREME!

Synopsis. Cúmming inside? He’ll beg for it.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóndom breaks, creampíes, unprotected, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, size kínks, full neIson, making it fit, biiig stretches, maIe squírting, cúmplay, HEADLOCKS, making them BEG, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, chokíng, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, first times (Choso, Ino), true form Sukuna, dp, marathons, overstím, slight bréeding, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The stubborn

Your ruthless hips were riding at a sloppy, sensual tempo enough to make the big, bad Toji Fushiguro squirm. Pap after pap enough to make him claw his calloused fingertips into your waist, enough to make him whine–

“Tch- y-your hips.” Gritting his gleaming white canines in a snarl to unsuccessfully hide the way you’d made him stutter, Toji hiccups with every one of your bounces. “Oh my god, your hips, doll- they make me wanna–”

He was struggling. Jaw ticking, mossy eyes narrowed. And you can feel his heavy, stirrin’ red tip twitch inside of you once you lean closer to hear his quieting baritone. “…i-inside.”

“Hmmm– what’s that?” You cup your ear teasingly, “Didn’t hear y- oh!”

And you seriously didn’t think that he wouldn’t bite back, did you? Superhuman reflexes gripping your hips to slam you down once, so hard n’ fast that it makes you keen, groaning only one word—“Inside.”

He wasn’t just begging anymore - he was aching for it.

The meaty mounds of his thighs twitching after every passing second that he wasn’t filling you up, Toji’s chewing down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from leaking with all those syrupy wads of saliva threatening to depart.

Even more once you’re blinking away the sting of his toned v-line hitting the cheeks of your ass, swervin’ in a wiiiide figure-eight that makes the man below you hiss. “Say ‘please.’”

It’s been like this for far too long now.

Fuck, Toji knows this what he gets - he knows he shouldn’t have mocked your cute, needy self for always wanting to be filled up with all his thick ounces. And now you were brutally torturing him with your clingy wet pussy until he regretted it.

“P-please.” It’s wrenched from the very back of his throat, coated with a primal thickness that makes you shudder. In sultry synchronization with the creaking of the bedsprings as he bucks– “Please- I said it- okay? Inside- hafta cum inside- wanna- need to.”

The last few strings of his rationality snaps as long raven lashes glaze over with a thin film of tears, scarred lips wobbling once you’re giving his ravaged shaft a clench.

He’s so big and achingly stuffed inside of you that you can’t even breathe without feeling the mushy swivels he’s planting all the way in your lungs. You watch his broad pecs simmer with hot, desperate perspiration as he moans. Hazy peripherals half-lidding, “Please let me cum inside you, mama?”

And he’s so sexy like this - shaggy black bangs sticking to his face until he’d almost curtained his greedy gaze, mouth trickling with thin lines of drool, cock ruining you - that you almost give in.

Almost.

“Well, maybe if you say ‘pretty pl-’”

That’s just when Toji gives in, too.

Snaps.

And if you thought that his impatient rut earlier was rude, then you weren’t prepared for the way that he’s starting up a pace that fucks you silly.

Plump, puckered lips drooping languidly ajar as he watched his glistening cock pump deeper into your pussy, breath hitching as if he hadn’t even realized he was milking himself on you. Toji gropes a handful of your right asscheek and helps manhandle you up n’ down like a doll.

Rough. Rugged.

He’s searching for your sweetest spots so accurately that even the slightest brush of his puffy, wide veins leave you dizzy. Weepy divot striking your g-spot hard–

“Fuck- fuck!” Your mind’s being so muddled after every punctuating thrust that you almost don’t notice the way that Toji’s grouchy, deep tone breaks. Cracks, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy with this pretty pussy- fucking mad.”

You’re whimpering, one of Toji’s meaty forearms coming to slouch himself partially upright on the bed and listen closer to every sticky plap! No longer solely riding him - he was drilling into you like he was addicted.

Grunting, “Look at you- look at you.”

“Wh-whaaat–?” You sniffle, chin hitting your chest once turn to where he was staaaaring. Dead-on. Where your saturated pussylips were pried apart until you could see every swollen inch he was pushin’ in, the reddened split-end of his crownhead peeking out before each nudge into your favorite spots.

Rolling his eyes, Toji pitches his voice just a few octaves higher into one that definitively does not sound like you. “‘Wh-wh-what?’ she says.”

Dark brows furrowing, a thin line of sweat traces down either side of his temples as he surges into you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis reddens. Right hand leaving half-moon crescent nail marks on your hips, “Yer a reeeeal mean girl, y’know?” He huffs and puffs, palm pressing at the base of your spine to get you to gyrate your hips. He’s fully taken over now - cocky. “Drooling all over me like that n’ n-not expecting me to make a mess, too.”

Batting your heavy eyelids, it takes you a few seconds to actually rover your fingertips over the gleaming wet glaze that was drivelling all down Toji’s tensed core.

From the soaked tufts of Stygian black at the base of his cock to the ridges of his abs, your slurping cunt was just spraying out your essence until he was basking in it.

He watches with a sleazy grin as you’re letting the slicked mess dangle from your digits, sticky.

“Yeah, look at that- look at you.” Words high-pitched n’ breathy, gone - with every nanosecond he’s sloppily planting three repeated slam-slam-slams on your spongy cervix, Toji’s falling apart. “Looking like th-that n’ teasing me and- and ohhh ya won’t be teasing me anymore when m’filling you up, doll.”

Truly, he was just so big and barreling inside of you that it was dissolving your poor brain cells- and right now you couldn’t even remember the incident that’d led to this in the first place. “F-filling?”

“Tha’s riiiight–” He’s grinning, “Gonna fill you up now- gonna fill up that pretty pussy until y-you won’t even hngh- remember what s’like without me inside. Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even be able to speak- to breathe.”

You’re flinching once the battle-worn index of his right hand scrapes a line straight from the treacly edge of your cunt - up, up, up past your tummy and all the way to your throat.

“-gonna fill ya up until right here, mama.”

And usually, Toji would never dare cum before he’d made you reach your high at least three times - wouldn’t even mention such a thing.

Usually.

But right now it’s so much, too much that he’s throwing his sweaty crown back into the silken pillows and squirting. You’d made Toji Fushiguro squirt - hard n’ rough, quickly filling you up with gooey sploshes of sap that all but fountains out of your puffy pussylips.

He feels like he’s about to pass out, like he can’t do anything but twitch his colliding hips into yours to plug you up to the very brim. Animalistic. Barely even there.

It’s so hefty and humid past your dripping entrance that you can feel your skin break out in perspiration, unstable voice coming out awed. “Toji- d-did you just-”

“Shut up.”

Fill you up alright - you were so stuffed right now that you barely even register it when he hooks his palm once more to your waist and flips the two of you over.

Dampened bangs of his sticking to your forehead, eyes almost shuttering, the chubby edge of his mushroomy tip pryin’ apart your gluey walls with a resounding squeeeelch once more.

“Wasteful girl-” One of his free hands skim the pale milky sheen formulated on your inner thighs, leaking. Hypnotized, he thrusts- “Said I wanted to c-cum inside you, not squirt. Buckle up, buttercup.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “W-will it fit?”

Will it fit. Will it fit-

It’s just about the only thing that your husband can think about right now as he’s dragging his rotund fingertips aaaaall over the soppy slit of your cunt, plugging back the thick droplets of cum that just kept on pouring from between.

But he’d be lying if he said that the notion didn’t make his plump, aching balls twitch—

“Pleeeease, Ken?” You’re jutting your lower lip out cutely into a pout, tugging aside your thoroughly drenched panties further n’ further to let Nanami’s half-opened eyes take it alllll in, in this lecherous full nelson. “Promise I can ngh- take one more.”

“B-but, my love-”

And yet, he can’t stop the way his traitorous hips are creeping back a few inches and ramming straight to his massive hilt. Opening your puffy hole so wide on his sheer circumference that it’s making you all stupidly dizzy.

“Your- your body- I don’t wanna hurt you and–” His long blond lashes sweep the edges of his cheekbones as he blinks blearily down at you, sensitivity making him tear up. “I don’t know if I even can anymore-”

Push after push he’s outlining your mushy walls trying to cream himself on you, wringing himself dry. Trying. Brain sparking as he tries to wrench out a few more ribbony droplets of saccharine sap.

You’re mewling, hips jerking back n’ forth with sensitivity once the cold metal of Nanami’s wristwatch scrapes your outer pussy. Pressing deeply into your heated flesh as he snags a few thick digits ‘round your lacy panties, to tug- “But-” and riiiiip it off before you know it. “-if my pretty wife asks…”

Anything you want is yours - including if you want to be stuffed so full to the brim of your soft, syrupy pussy until you can feel him in your damn lungs.

And that’s exactly what Nanami’s doing. Twisting the glazed remnants of that flimsy underwear around his right hand, choking your pretty neck with his left hand. He’s mazing his fattened, cherry-colored tip through your walls until he’s splitting you apart.

So thick that the sheer size of him makes you sob, your legs twitching upwards once he hits the gooey back of your pussy so hard that your mind numbs. “So good- so good I can’t help but keep wanting to hah! fill you up.”

“Oh- oh, just like that–! Want it- ngh- make me your cumdump, Kento.”

“Cumdump- cumdump, huh?” His gravelly tone makes your entrance quiver, gushing walls clenching when he’s surging back to stuff himself inside snugly. Aching for that burning stretch of him, “You like it all inside, darlin’?”

And it’s a rhetorical question - but your sloppy cunt’s squelching out a few answering noises anyway. So fucking wet that even the slighest gyration stirring up your velvety innards slops out a wet puddle.

“O-ohhhh–” He’s groaning, plush lower lip wobbling ever-so-slightly at the sound that sings like music to his ears. “You wanna talk to me baby- s’that it?”

You’re whimpering, goosebumps skittering all over your skin as Nanami’s strong tannish arms push you around - bending you further, more pliably, practically in half as he’s sprawling your thighs over his meaty ones and streeeetching until he can push his fat, reddened cock even deeper. “Oh- you want me to go ngh- deeper? Anything for you, my love. Anything.”

Unsure whether he’s talking to you or your bulging pussy, he’s clawing one of his hands up to his flared nostrils and sniiiffing your wettened panties.

Groaning, “Yeah- yeah.” Nodding- the sensible, stoic Nanami Kento was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Hoarse, “Oh, your s-sweet pussy’s just begging for me to cum inside.”

With a particularly rough scratch of his bawling orifice along your cervix, you’re wailing out shrilly, “Want it- p-please, give it t’me.”

You knew how to read him so easily, because all it takes is another saturated clench before Nanami’s finding his head thrown back. Maw hotly ajaw, golden happy trail scratching your back with a shiver.

“Can I? Can I really?” And there’s something cracked and broken, octaves-higher at the back of his gentle baritone voice. Still in disbelief as he’s plunging his hips into you even sloppier, harder. So, so desperate to make his tenderly overstimulated cock finally cum, “Can’t hah! help it…can’t help it can’t- ngh! Your pussy’s too good s’making an animal outta me.”

“Don’t- miss—ngh!‘ Tearful eyes rolling around in circular patterns like in some cartoon, Nanami has to reach over his left hand until he can tug your chin down to make you watch. Watch the show.

“Promise not to miss, darlin’.”

Won’t miss - couldn’t miss even if he tried, Nanami was dead set on slapping your bruised g-spot until it makes your vision blotch with white.

The exact same creamy ivory that forths out of your greedy cunt once he’s finally, finally hitting his lecherous high. Finishing off in such a wet, primal way that coats both your folds with a glossy polish, his ribbons of cum are so scalding hot that your thighs start getting clammy with slick n’ sweat.

Nibbling down on your plush lower lip, “F-feels so good- hck!”

Full enough that your hole’s being pushed widely agape by Nanami’s rummaging cock until his syrupy cum leaks out. He’s planting two firm feet on the mattress to rut and rut and milk himself, sensitive veins rubbin’ up until tears spring to his hooded peripherals. “You like it a-allll inside, huh? Feel me all up in- here.”

The knobbled end of his thumb comes snaking down stealthily, drawing a little cum-covered heart on the slope of your pussy.

It lets out the wettest, most sinful plop! as you watch Nanami suck off the milky excess, groaning. Pushing his nosebridge back into your stringy panties, it’s as if your pheromones were enough to drive him mad all over again. “Wonder if a third one would fit, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - MEAN!

“N-not yet.” You’re piping up smugly for about the nth time tonight, the rounded mounds of your ass pushing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones until he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to cum.

Not to just cream your gummy walls fully in heaping oodles like he oh-so-badly needed to.

The pretty apples of his cheeks blushing raw n’ red at your endless teasing, Geto spanks his slender palm down on your right ass cheek and watches you shiver. Tiny, wracking trembles of yours turning into full-on gasps once you feel the way he only grows harder. Thicker.

“H-heh, y’know I get bigger when you’re mean to me, gorgeous.” He groans in your ear, raspy and ruined once his big, beefy left forearm comes to trap your throat in a fucking headlock. And he wasn’t merciful, either - Geto’s pushin’ his bicep close until you could feel every vein covering him. “You must really like this biiiig fucking cock then, huh?”

Taking you feverishly from behind, he was just so damn big that you’re feeling his pudgy cockhead push into your lungs.

Dragging a wet line of precum that lets his throbbing shaft slip n’ slide rapidly inside, every plap! of sticky skin-on-skin makes your hazy pupils swirl stupidly in circles inside your eyeballs. Whining, “You’re s-sooo mean, shouldn’t ever let you cum inside, Suguru.”

“I’m mean- I’m mean?” Something scratchy and pitched cracks at the back of his chuckle, gaze dilating wider like he couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. Crazed. “Tellin’ me I-I’m mean when-”

Trailing off, his plush, pink lips pucker up n’ swat your tender slope with a fat wad of saliva. Left hand sneaking slightly past your puffy lips to watch it sliiiide straight down your drooling slit, “-when you’re this fucking wet n’ expecting me not to cum inside?”

You’re so sappily drenched that every harsh rut is making you gush out in all but torrents, a few beads of slick starting to drizzle down your inner thighs.

But of course, Geto Suguru couldn’t have that.

And without a second thought, he’s dragging his thick ringed fingers down those translucent gumdrops and slipping them into his mouth. Groaning at the sweetness, “Look h-how much you’re begging- how much you’re- hah! sucking me up.”

So snug inside your cute pussy that every creeping reel of his hips backwards left you bouncing too- the sight is so cute that Geto can’t help but splash out yet another treacly stream of spittle.

“O-oh my god, Sugu–!”

“If ya can take that, then you can take this.”

And then he’s just smoochin’ your g-spot softly, once– the last bit of niceness you get before simply bruising the tippy-top of his crowned reddish tip against his favorite target. Geto’s accuracy rate is a deadly 100% and it drives you wild, knees knocking against each other as you clench.

“O-oh.” The mere velvety hug of your tight walls enough to have him leaning his upper-body over - dark monks’ robes still half-on and disheveled - till the tufts of curly black hair atop his hilt scratch your spine sensitively. Breath hitching, voice guttural. “Evil girl. Evil-” Headlock tightening, “-evil. You drive me craaaaazy.”

Practically melting.

Geto’s skin was scalding hot and glued to your back, sweat-simmered forehead hitting the crook of your neck, a low trail of saliva gushes out of his mouth and hits your shoulder with a splat! splat! splat!

It’s as if he was out of control, the twitching fringes of his digits rover down to your neglected clit and roll his frigid metal rings on top. “Tell me.”

Hiccuping at both the toying on your delicate nub and the way that your heated pants get lodged in your throat, Geto’s sculptured arms manhandle your airway to constrict. You’re whining, “T-tell you what-”

He gifts the slippery hood of your clit with a slight pinch– tone raspy and hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

Oh, he had you.

“P-please!” You were done for. And with only a few more vulgar streaks of sloppy precum being poured into your channel, your core aches for more more more. “Want you to cum i-inside, Suguru–”

And you had him just as much. His entire muscular weight sagging on top of yours until your cheek was being firmly pressed into the soft futon, the silken fabrics and ridges of his abs glissading clammily down your arched spine.

He groans in a hoarse drag, “Thaaaat’s more like it. S’better when you beg, gorgeous. Take it-” Every single syllable being punctuated with a solid battering ram, he was simply milking himself on your sweltering hot pussy. “-take it.”

You’re hitting your wave of bliss so suddenly that you don’t even realize until Geto throws his head back with a drawn-out ‘fuh-fuuuuck!’

Every hit after direct hit sending stars twittering in your bleary vision, the pleasure was just so much that it makes your knees weaken and hit the ground. “Please- please please please–”

The chilling coldness of his tongue piercing glides down your maw just in time with the slurping splash of dewy wet cum streaking your cunt. A thick white syrup that glues your pussylips together and makes such a soiling puddle underneath you two, Geto was cumming harder than he had in his entire life.

You’re sucking mindlessly on the very tip of his candied tongue, silver studded piercing flashing inside your heated mouth. “Suguru I–” Mewling at the warmth of the sheen dripping from your outer pussy, your sloppy hole is just gushing at this point. “-it feels so good.”

“Shut up.” Geto hisses through thoroughly bitten teeth, the sound of your pretty voice too much now that he’s tumbling straight into his own high. Leaning over, “Shut up shut up- sh-shut- nghhh–”

And it’s almost as if he’d just remembered his lecherous hold on you, snugly pulling on the headlock until you’re choking cutely on your words.

He’s pushing you down, down, down and stirring his heavy length, all the way from his sagging hilt to the very plump, plum-colored tip. Digging in deep at the very bottom, “Say anythin’ else in that pretty voice and it’s going to make me want to c-cum again, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Mind-BREAK

And it wasn’t just the slick rubber condom that was tearing at the edges – truthfully, it was Choso’s sanity, too.

Because the very moment you’re batting your prettily lashes up at him, mewling to ‘please please’ keep going- well, the half-curse finds his towering body wracking with the rawest, neediest shivers. Panting.

Shaking.

The edges of his pearly whites biting straight down into his bottom lip as his hot, cherry-red tip peeks out of the condom and slips right into your raw cunt. Just bawling in creamy wet droplets of pre, frothing down your quivering pussy.

“R-raw?” Choso’s trembling out, the cutest husky whine cracking at the end of his deep voice. And he’s gnawing down on the inside of his cheek to stop from whining once you nod. “I can really…raw?”

Snuggling him to your heaving chest with a pull at his sweat-matted locks, “Mhm– please, Cho. No need to be shy, I wan’ it all inside.”

“Wh-when you say ‘all’ inside…”

Oh, fuck. Your sweet boyfriend’s cock is so thick that he’s ravaging you from the inside out, swelling n’ bulging a few more lecherous centimeters wider so that that stupid lil’ rubber is torn clean off of him. You’re throwing your head into your soft pillows once you feel his mazing veins scrape-scrape-scraaaaape along your dewy walls, so laaazily.

Choso respires a few unsteady inhales as he’s urgently tugging off the shattered remains of the condom, slender soft tips of his digits then moving to give himself a pinch. Rasping, “S’real-” To give your perky clit a pinch. His eyes widen, “S’real s’real- it’s-”

You’re whining, hips bucking restlessly up where he was stuffing your cunt with rapid, ruined half-ruts. Over and over- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “O-of course it’s real, baby.”

Like he couldn’t do anything else.

“No, but- but it’s real-” Choso’s voice breaks as he’s pleading with you, granting your clit one last pinch. “M’going in raw and oh–!” Chestnut lashes flapping helplessly at the slick velvety feeling inside of you, you were hugging his throbbing length so warm, so tightly that he could feel his thighs twitch. “Fuck- I’m gonna fuck you now. Gonna fuck you for real.”

Not even registering that his hips already were pounding into you. He’s slouching over to ram faster, harder.

“Oh, m’already fucking you…”

The stretch so wide that your knees thrash weakly, “Shit- shit, feels so good, Choso– keep going.”

With a stolen peek at your bulging folds, Choso gingerly wraps his long fingers ‘round either side of your squirming hips to keep on pushing forward; even the slightest recoil making him grunt. More.

With a particularly harsh ba-dump–! of his slimy, curvaceous tip probin’ into your cervix, he finds his breath hitching. As if he’d just had an epiphany- “Does that ngh- mean I can do that thing called a….” Boring deep into your eyes, his steamily hot shaft releases a gooey line of precum. Jolting with excitement. “-a creampie, baby?”

Oh.

Now that he’d had one taste, he wanted the entire meal. All three courses that made the man salivate at the mere thought.

Your spit-glittered lips droop into the perfect ‘o’ once the words finally sink in, moaning. “Wh-where do you even find this- out- hck! Cho?”

Now, Choso wasn’t experienced, not even close - but even he could feel the way your soppy pussylips were getting so much damper with arousal. Stamping a glistening kiss on his hilt that he wishes he could tattoo- “Read about it- online- and I–”

He’s breaking off with a fucked-out groan at the beaded droplets of moisture seeping from your entrance, pouring out with a splat! after every punctuating thrust.

And Choso doesn’t even realize how he’s moving - doesn’t even register the fact that he’s gripping your boneless legs and throwing them on his shoulders until you sob. Heels digging into his flexed deltoids, front meeting his tense abs, pushed into such a filthy mating press.

“-and I think m’gonna fucking die if I don’t fill up this pretty pussy, baby.”

“O-oh, fuck!” You’re shrilling through your clenched teeth every time he’s arching his muscular back to strike your g-spot precisely, filling your nooks and orifices with a clingy second skin of sap.

Choso fucks you straight through the mattress of your bed like he yearns for you - sloppy, sensual drags of his painfully-hard cock. “You wanna hngh! cum inside?”

“Please- please.” He’s gasping, strawberry divot leaking from the end of his long length with every vulgar stroke. “I want it. Need it- d-don’t know if I’ll be able to last with this cute cunt so raw n’ wet and raw.”

His parched Adam’s apple bobs carnally once you slide your greedy palms all over his luscious pecs, tuggin’ on those rose-pink nipples till he shivers. Down, down, down.

And he’s just too pretty with his eyes glazed-over with tears, gaze fiery through the cracks in his bangs. You just can’t help but waft your hands over each of his eight rippling abs and tease- “Tell me- how badly?”

Cutely pathetic wobbles taking over his rosy lips, “Badly- badly. Please, I’ll beg-” Choso’s beefy arms grip onto your hips stronger until you’re halfway through being lifted clean off the rickety bedsprings. You’ve ruined him- fuck, you’ve ruined him. A primally desperate expression taking over his features, “M’begging, please let me c-cum inside. Promise I’ll make you feel eeeeevery single inch- eeeeevery single- drop.”

Blinking, “Every?”

“Every.” And Choso’s just about ready to open his dry mouth and plead some more, to fuck the answer out of you. That is- before the hands that’d been tracing his dark happy trail end up slithering downwards, just barely reaching over to caress his rounded pink ballsack. “Ev- oh.”

To make him cum and cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.

When it rains, it pours - and Choso was simply flooding your poor, snug core with messy topping upon topping of white, syrupy seed. So much of it splashing against the circular bruises he’d made at the back of your pussy and rapidly overfilling you from the inside.

You can feel your warmly fuzzy mind sparking something primal with every spurt stuffed inside of you- and he wasn’t just pushing it inside, he was battering you with it.

Quick, aggressive spanks of his toned v-line into the underside of your thighs. He puffs out in a sweltering cloud of breath, eyeliner smudged through tears. “Fuh-fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- so this is a c-creampie? S’this how m’supposed to hngh- fill your pussy up, baby?”

Dolloping out a milky wad of cum that’d webbed around his bulky base, he’s coating his thumb in all of those juices and drawin’ a cute heart on top of your clit. Pressing down hard to make you cry out oh-so-prettily–

“Mhmm– you’re pussydrunk, Cho.” You’re managing to giggle out, fingers brushing away a stray strand of brown that’d plastered onto his sweat-glossed forehead.

Fingers that your boyfriend catches between his honed canines and bites. Hard.

Left hand angrily fisting the drenched hilt of his cock, palm smearing with a buzzing layer of Blood Manipulation. Of power that forces his weepy tip to pulse and harden– again. Again. “Oh, you’re about to see ‘pussydrunk’, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The big

“-two—three–hck!” You’re keening at the humidly burning stretch of your arched spine, bleary eyes falling over your shoulder and behind to where you were riding the great King of Curses in reverse. Well, more like splitting your poor pussy open–

Been like this for so, so long - a marathon. You could already feel the glittery ringlet of cum from rounds prior sinfully tickling your wide entrance, splosh! goes that cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

Flapping your tear-stained eyelashes, your voice cracks as you slip yourself down yet another one of his thick, barreling dual inches. So sensitive. “-f-four?”

“Keh- nice try.” Sukuna claws one of his four palms across your hips, using just the tiniest bit of his strength to draaaaag you down his copious, throbbing lengths. So much of him filling you up that it makes your head dizzy, “But no, mama, you’re eight inches in.”

Eight- eight?

Oh, the mere notion is enough for you to weaken your knees and let two of his monstrously massive palms take control.

Giving your right ass cheek a rude spank, “And only…” A third of his big, beefy arms measuring out the remaining girths that were puffy and aching to be stuffed inside of you. “-almost halfway more to go.”

“H-half- oh!”

Before that sentence has even registered in your mind, he’s tapping your trembly thighs open and giving a thorough slam that pries your gluey walls oh-so-apart. All but making you scream–

“Shush now- and let this pretty pussy be the one talking.” Sukuna licks his lips with a thin layer of spittle at the way you’re sucking him up ravenously. Every slap of his probin’ crownhead inside beading a few dewy droplets of precum that pour out with a sluuuurp. “What’s that? What’s that?”

Your moans are halfway through flooding your mouth before you realize that he isn’t even speaking to you.

No- no, he’s drifting his beady crimson eyes down to coo at your bulging pussylips. Bouncin’ your lecherous hips in swerving motions, he leans in even closer to listen to her.

“Ohhh, sloppy girl–” Sukuna puffs out through sweltering, stilted breaths. And you’re flinching at the dampened sliiiide of something wet and hot slithering between your swollen folds. Trawling a saturated layer of spittle with his damn cursed mouth, making a mess of the syrupy white seed leaking out. “-you want more, huh? I dunnoooo, better ask the missus.”

More.

More more more.

You were so full to your filthy brim that every minute movement made the knotted wads of cum inside of you splash.

Thighs trembling as you’re riding out a shallow, sensual pace, “M-more? What do you mean- ngh-”

Smack! goes the way that the king plants down yet another hefty slap, all of his fleshy fingertips branding permanently on your heated skin. “You know what I mean, lil’ human.” Sukuna’s so monstrously big that the slightest buck of his muscular thighs makes your driveling cunt sound out a squelch! “She wants ta be stuffed even more. Heh- greedy.”

“W-will it even fit, Kuna–?”

“Awww- see? I tried, girl.” Turning back to your lil’ stuffed pussy, you’re watching from the front as he puckers his lips in faux sympathy.

So filthy with his rummaging cocks that every hammering thrust makes him slide against the other, the zig-zagging lines of his veins massaging your sweet spots just right. Pullin’ apart your sappy cunt until you were just struggling to keep up the sheer stretch.

He’s soaking out a bucketload of buttery pre that sparked more of those noises he loved so much. “S’that so? Want me to ask again? Wan’ it haaa– that bad, huh?” Turning back to you, the underside of Sukuna’s cursed tongue flattens to roam over like a tendril, giving your clit a spank. “Begging- s’that what you want? The king to beg?”

And oh. Oh- if any one of his cursed subjects could overhear the king right now then they would have fainted

Jaw dropped, hips faltering, eyelids fluttering to try and dredge up some ounce of your rationality. “B-beg?”

“Mhm—” And, well, part of Sukuna thought it’d be a joke, part of Sukuna was so pussydrunk that he was just babbling. Slithering his sizzling tastebuds all over your sheeny inner-thighs, spearheading you with his bulbous tips until he’s swiping all the way on your cervix. Twice. “C’mon, girl. M’begging- begging here to cum inside, kissin’ your feet and all.”

The mouth slashed across his sculptured front titters, lightly craning over to plant a few smooches all over your ankles. He hums, “See? See? M’begging- c’mon, girl, milk me dry- milk the king dry. Look at how you’ve got me.”

And your hips - oh, your birthing hips are so good that it has his crown scalp overheating, fuzzy every time the globes of your ass jiggle sensually down onto his tattooed hips.

Hitting, hitting, hitting.

Until your flesh is stinging and raw, heavy spitballs falling out from your mouth - enough to make your words incoherent. “Th-then please.” A hot stream of tears hitting your cheeks, “Please.”

“P-please.”

And that last beg wasn’t one from your parched lips - it was one from his. Ryomen Sukuna unfastening his sharp jaw to let his trembling baritone crack with what sounds like a whimper once you’re hitting your high.

And then he cums.

With both matchingly rock-hard ends of his shafts, the ridges of his tip catch on your softest spot and drench it in silvery bouts of syrupy white seed. Pumping and pumping you full until he can trek a hand up to about halfway down your tummy and pat the lil’ cylindrical outline.

You’re thrashing at the zaps of pleasure that blur your vision, “It’s s-shoooo full–! Hck! It’s so full, Kuna–”

“How cuuuute–.” His whispers make shivers run down your spine, curling a hand ‘round your throat so that he can gnaw his gnarly canines down your throat.

The split-ended edges of his tongue slip along the slimy ribbons of cum that trickle out of your creamy pussy. Lapping up every inch of you, “She’s happy heh- look at her.”

Until a carnal scratch along your slippery slit makes your wet pussy squeeeelch, “O-oh, she’s saying–” You’re craning your head to meet Sukuna’s half-lidded, glowing eyes and oh- oh, you were fucked. Because Ryomen Sukuna whimpers, “-she wants more…”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 1st.

“First-” Departs Ino’s gruff whine, panted right into the crook of your neck while he squeezes you to his toned front. “M-my first time- is this really real? Really reeeally real?”

A pretty smile tugs on your spit-slicked lips, enough to make Ino want to cum right then and there. “Of course- why, baby?”

“B-because it doesn’t feel real, pretty.” Comes his sultry, low-toned answer, wrinkling his nose and grunting at the squelching slip n’ slide of your oversaturated folds down his reddened cock. You’re biting down on the plush of your lower lip when his puffy veins scratch your outer pussy sensually. “Can’t believe m’going to- to…”

Ino’s so drunk on your sweet, sweet pussy that he’s already run out of words.

The tawny strands of his bangs covering his eyes, his heart-shaped pupils are fully starstruck once he pushes the pointed globe of his cockhead into your hole.

Breath hiccuping. Panting.

Throat ripping with a cracked whimper as he’s easing in, “Can’t believe that you f-feel so good and-” Dizzy pupil locked on the way he’s pushing your bloated lips so far apart- Ino’s so damn thick that just the simplest few inches is enough to make your knees weak. “-a-and fuuuuck…m’not gonna last.”

Not a few more minutes, not even for a few more breaths. Just one squelching touch and he’s finding himself gone already.

Ino’s further spreading his capped knees on the bed to rut and rut and rut like he’s trying to milk himself stupid. Slicked, glistening stripes of pre dripping down either side of your heated thigh, he’s making such a mess.

“Aww— you wanna ngh- cum inside, Taku–?” You’re coaxing through his mindless pace, pushing with the left-leaning angle of his fat length like he was addicted.

And he was- oh, he was addicted. So, so addicted that just the mere idea - just hearing those words fall from your puckered lips - was enough for him to want to cum right then and there.

Gnawing on his plump, cherry-pink bottom lip, “Yes- yes, please.” He’s breathing out, soft panting gasps hitting your face like a scorching breeze. And his fuzzy happy trail is making your clit rub raaaw once he starts glissading even deeper inside. “C-can I cum inside, sweetness?”

“Hmm–” You’re pretending to think whilst he patiently waits, “I dunno—”

And you watch as he stalls, you watch as he falters. You watch that dopey, ruined smile plastered all over his face sag ever-so-slightly, that strawberry orifice weeping from the end of his cock pulsing angrily in response. That is- until you’re plowing on teasingly, “How badly do you want it, baby?”

Oh, and Ino can only think to go harder- a chance, you’re really giving him a chance.

Drilling his slick-lustred girth into you faster, rougher- he’s gritting his teeth and pounding all his voluminous, plumpened inches inside like a madman. “Badly- so, so badly–” Words coming out a throaty croon, he’s almost yelping from the back of his throat at the raw sting of slamming flesh.

“Hmm- now where are those manners?”

“P-please. Please, pretty? Please let me ngh! cum inside? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything–?”

“Anything.” Ino nods and nods, tumbling over his unsteady fingers to wrap ‘round your perked, swollen clit like he’d read online. “I’ll do anything.”

And what he said - he meant.

He’s scouring his bloated cockhead till you feel him dig a deep crater into your g-spot, a rounded bruise the exact size of his thick circumference. Ino might be the sweetest, but his jackhammering tempo certainly wasn’t. “Anything- I-I’ll clean up after and take care of you and kiss you to sleep and…”

Mouth flooding with a glinting few droplets of saliva, falling into the perfect oh! once he’s locking his eyes with your syrupy cunt once again. How pretty.

Grinning, “-and marry you.”

And he barely even hears it - that tiny, mewling ‘i-inside!’ that you’re letting off before Ino’s cottony eardrums pop! and he’s suddenly all but bursting inside of you.

Straight streaks of cum that clog your cunt sweetly from the inside out, you throw your head back at the noisy squeeelch–! that thunders out from between your soppy pussylips. Ino’s ropy liquid showering your hole in white and trickling out in a lil’ puddle.

“S-so good.” You huff out, thighs sticking to each other with the glue-like texture of his seed.

He’s finding himself hypnotized by the slicked mess, by how ruined you look. And it’s a sight so heavenly that Ino’s barely out of the woods of his waves of euphoria - hazel eyes teary, thighs still twitching, the mushroomed ridge of his length coating with even more layers of splashing cum as soon as he’s hastily pulling out.

“S-said I’d do anything, pretty.” He mutters, now positioned near the end of your dampened bed where he’s pushing himself deeply into your puffed-up pussylips.

One hand bullying your jittery thighs open, the other wrapping around his bulked hilt and seeping reverse cursed energy through his skin.

More, he needed more. And he’s making himself harder—

And Ino always did look so pretty - but right now? With his brown hair unruly, eyes sleepy, delicate mouth glossed in a thick coating of liquid that drips all the way from his upper lip to his chin? You think he’s never looked more beautiful.

Swollen lips latching ‘round your tender clit, you’re seeing literal stars as he sucks on that ravaged lil’ nub like his favorite gummy candy, licking off that salty ivory topping. “N’ first up was haaaah- cleaning you up.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The addicted

“Aww, look at you, sweetheart- just look at you.” Gojo’s raw, ruined voicebox huffs out, biting down on his plump lower lip that just won’t stop grinning pussydrunkenly. “You want me to cum inside you soooo bad.”

You’re huffing out between every pointed thrust he’s easing inside you from behind, prying apart your glue-topped pussylips with a squelch. “A-as if, don’t think you’re ngh! off the hook already, Satoru.”

And that really would’ve been more effective if your sloppy cunt wasn’t just slobbering out ropey wads of sap with every passing second. Gojo’s thick, barreling cock so swollen that every brush of his candy-red tip leaves you gasping.

It almost makes you forget that you were really supposed to give your husband an earful for skiving off of yet another jujutsu meeting. But that was so goddamn hard when he was fucking you like this.

“But you called me ‘Satoru’—” He’s humming in your ear, words dipping into such a whiny territory. With a stinging spank of his vibrating, cursed energy-capped fingertips on your clit he has you arching into him.

Tilting his head with such a cocky, cocky grin. “See? See–?” Gojo hoists his muscular leg up until the plane of his foot rests upon your head, rudely. “Don’t lie- You want the strongest to cum in you, don’tcha?”

Forced to bite down on the mushy innards of your cheek to keep yourself from fucking screaming - or worse, completely and utterly agreeing with him. Instead, you’re only perking your hips up minutely so that his rummaging pounds can probe an even deeper bruising circle on your cervix.

Hard.

Desperate.

So, of course Gojo Satoru and his blazing Six Eyes will notice.

Of course, he’ll crack out a low snicker as he abuses that special power to stir his fleshy cockhead around and around, giving your g-spot a good whack.

“Oh you do—” He’s crooning out from behind you, tone scratchy, octaves higher. And the inkling of something so raw and dark seeped into his tone is enough to make you whimper. “-you do you do you do.”

“Fuh-fuck–!” Thighs clenching as he swats them upright and arches you into some of the most vicious thrusts. Bottomed out, drenched all the way to his bloated hilt, and yet he was still pushing and pushing to fit further inside.

He needed you - wanted you to be so full of him you couldn’t even think. The tight curvature of his fattened balls kneading into the base of your wet cunt, “Tell me you want it- tell me.”

“N-not until you start attending your meetings- ngh!”

“Ohhh I love a mouthy girl.” He titters, flexible body bending until he’s so sinfully close to your ear. Gojo’s melding you deeper into the mattress with every second, every jackhammer, every squeeze of his foot bullying on top of your head and making all the blood in your body rush up there, dizzyingly.

With a precisely-planned knock-knock-knock on your soft womb, he’s rutting his toned v-line into you like he was going craaaazy. Plum-shaped crown of his cock squirting out just a warning few ribbons of sappy precum— “But I’d prefer if that mouth was used for haaaa- something else, my girl. How are you gonna have this hngh- biiig fuckin’ cock inside you and not want me to fill ya up, huh?”

Pushed so deeply into the puffy silken cover of your pillows that your next words are incoherent–

“Louder.” Usually-melodic voice now stern, almost feral. His sapphire blue eyes were bolting with flecks of lightning.

Again- and again your words are nothing but blubbers of moans and syrupy saliva that just kept on flooding from your mouth with sheer bliss. Dangling from your lips, “I- ngh- Toru–”

“Louder.”

And then finally - finally - Gojo’s easing the pressure of his foot just enough to make your agape maw lift off the bed with a muggy pwah! Moaning into the steaming hot puddle of drool that you’d collected, “Don’t make me- ngh…s-sex- ban-”

It’s barely audible, barely understandable.

But to the strongest, it’s as if his entire body is just rattling at the sudden sentence. Jujutsu powers snapping out of control until he suddenly had you laid out on your back against the bedsprings; thighs on his buff shoulders, cock nuzzling your g-spot in split-seconds.

Teleporting the two of you into a mating press.

Gojo reels until he’s just bucking savagely into you, cadence feverish - frenzied. Not even fully slamming from the pre-capped fringe of his tip anymore, just half-thrusts that have you wailing shrilly.

“No-” He’s hissing at the clenching feeling of your cozy walls, pressing the curves of his prominent veins just right against your g-spot. He didn’t even need to use Six Eyes anymore, he was mapping out and filling every single nook and cranny of you. “No no no no- no- it was a joke- a joke, see?”

A nervous bout of lilted laughter bursts out in a puff against your face, and glossy strings of drool just spill from his swollen lips.

Soft, they’re kissing n’ kissing you until you’re dazed. “A j-joke, huh?”

“Yes- please. Please let me- haaaa- inside.”

And you’re swearing that his harshly pillaging girth pulses even fatter n’ harder after those next words escape your mouth. “I- hck! Fine- inside. Want it mmm– inside, Toru.”

“O-oh.”

And then he’s gasping, he’s shivering.

Sculptured body collapsing into yours until you’re feeling every massaging push of his firm pecs, his washboard abs. Pace so hard that you’re pushed further and further up the headboard with only the recoil of his cock bashing into your sweetest spots.

But Gojo doesn’t see it that way - Gojo can’t think of anything at all other than the fact that your cute dripping cunt might be running from him and he just can’t have that.

“Come back, sweetheart-” He’s hiccuping, mindlessly activating a few tendrils of cursed energy that keep you in place. “Come back come back come back so that I can- hck! can…”

Gojo doesn’t even have the privilege of finishing his sentence before he’s doing what he’s been yearning to do for so long.

Pumping your hot pussy full with thick, ropey wads of cum that glue your plush walls together from side to side. And it feels so heavenly to finally reach his finish line inside you, whimpering at the lecherously sticky slosh of drooling sap he’s rummaging with each thrust.

Pearly whites sinking into his trembling lower lip, “Nghhhh- yeah that’s it, my girl. Look at me fucking you, that’s it- take it all.”

Making such a mess - making you so dumb on his cock. Gojo mutters to himself dazedly over the slurps and moans you’re letting off- thick n’ raspy. He counts down, “Three…two…” Before dragging his energy-coated thumb once over your clit, “-one!”

And it wasn’t just his Six Eyes that told him you were cumming - it was your pretty pussy.

Completely shattered, your pillowy insides are clamping down on him so hard that he’s rutting against it and fighting to plunge his sagging cock deeper into your slippery channel. Head throwing, eyes crashing with tears at the sheer bliss- “Toru- Toru!”

“Yeah- I got you, sweetheart, your Toru’s got you.” Gojo wheezes out, and he doesn’t know what he loves more - you, or you when he’s fucking his fat webs of cum inside you.

Frothing out a creamy white coating from your leaky entrance, so thick that he’s swabbing his thumb down your slit to clear up the mess. Voice shattering with something that sounds like the last remnants of his sanity, “O-one down.” He looks from his proud creampie to your face, gifting you with a big battering ram. Chuckling, “Five more to go.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OVERTIME

Higuruma was late.

He was so, so late for work— but did that really matter when he had you - his gorgeous wife - sprawled all over the living room couch, so pretty and fucked-out while he pounded away into you like a madman for the nth time this morning?

This was heaven.

Well- it would be heaven if he wasn’t so damn late-

“Sugar- angel-” Higuruma’s pants through clenched teeth, seething every time he swivels his aching, red-hot tip into your mushiest crevices. Unable to make himself stop. “-my wife.”

You’re finding your swollen folds fluttering at the gravelly tonality of his voice; your sensible, hard-working husband reduced to this. And the thought is enough to make you smile, “Mhmm– m’here, Hiromi.”

Hell, you n’ that sweet pussy of yours was so addictive that he half-wished you weren’t.

Well, not really- never really. And Higuruma’s loosening his dark tie with a heady tut- “Look at how you’ve r-ruined me.” Almost incredulous, he can’t help but lock his eyes down on the soppy, dampening patch of sap that was starting to formulate on his formal pants.

Disheveled, suit jacket slacking off whilst he slouches his shoulder muscles over and gives your cervix a few more sensual slams. Milking himself. Milking you.

Darkly muttering, “This one’s the last one before I g-go to work. Just a quickie, angel- just a quickie before I oh-” Shit, he can’t even finish that sentence before feeling his tightened balls flinch at your gushing clench.

“You said that hah! last time, too-”

“Well, this time I mean it.” And if you didn’t know any better then you’d be swearing that Higuruma’s pale pink lips were pulling into a pout, dark eyes narrowing down at you. “This time I r-really mean it–” He utters as he’s rovering two roughened palms underneath your thighs to throw them over his shoulders.

The crowned globe of his curvaceous tip scratching a carnal itch at your cervix as he’s leaning his hips in and bending. Down, down, down until both you and the aged couch are singing with delight, “-I really- really…”

But one look - just one, proper look at you all bent into this mindless mating press, leaking a creamy frosting of cum from between your legs - and Higuruma is done for.

Larynx ripping with a hoarse groan like he already knew he lost, he’s drawling out. Syllables slurring together as if he was drunk, “Sugar…”

“Yeeess, Hiromi?”

Dazed already. “Have I ever told you how much I ngh- love you?” Higuruma’s sharp nosebridge crinkles at the very top when he snarls. You’re squealing once his thick office button-up starts rubbin’ on your hardened nipples, “How much I love- her.”

And by her, who else could it be?

You’re whimpering, back arching off of the perspiration stain you’d created on the cushion once he’s snaking his left hand to your clit and toying. Rolling over the cold, mean edge of his wedding ring right where you were the most sensitive- Higuruma only watches and watches as that makes you pour out hefty bucketloads of cum.

Bobbing Adam’s apple parched, not only does he gaze - he stares. Hypnotized. “Th-think my wife needs to be ngh- filled up, actually.”

“M-more?” Your voice crackles out, eyes widening at the already-lecherous feeling of him increasing his sloppy strokes until your snug channel feels bloated. Stretching and stretching.

“More.”

A bead of sweat drips from the side of his dark, slicked-back hair and hits your chest with a striking splat! Precisely in unison with when he’s whacking into your g-spot so hard you’re seeing white pop up in your vision. Growling, “M’serious- r-really wanna cum inside.”

And he wasn’t just fucking you mean, he was leaving your clit all bruised n’ extra swollen, too.

“No- really need to cum inside.” Clearing his throat ever-so-slightly, Higuruma’s dewy raven eyes gaze upon you through his long lashes. So sexy like this that you’re feeling your mouth water with your answer already, “C-can I? Please- please, can I?”

Oh. You just made stern, stoic Higuruma beg.

And now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

Harder and harder.

Rumbling baritone already fraying at the edges- he’s growing more n’ more feverish with each disturbed dollop of cum that sprayed out of you. “Look at h-her- oh, just look at her.” Blinking his heavy lids furiously to clear out some semblance of his vision, “Fuck the time- fuck work, she’s mine.”

You’re rutting your hips to meet his, a splatter of saliva growing from your mouth due to his sheer dumbifying pace. “Yours- p-please- yours-”

“And I’m yours-” Higuruma gasps- as if anything else would be wrong. Nosing down the line of your throat, your essence was so addictive that he could almost taste it. Faster. Harder. “So how could I n-not cum inside my pretty lil’ wife? And if we get a cute kid nine months later then…”

Milking himself on you, ruining himself. He was already so sensitive that only a few slicked glissades across your cunt make his half-lidded eyes tear up - and fuck- you weren’t any more stable.

“-even better.”

Because the moment those words waft from Higuruma’s plump lips, you’re cumming. Crashing into your high headfirst, you don’t even realize it when those tingly buzzes of pleasure had turned into a pure torrential wave.

Squirting- oh.

You were really making sure that Higuruma’s office suit was unwearable right now, because those splattering streams of sap paint his formalwear see-through. Raining down, dripping pearly beads of moisture up n’ down every ridge of his abs.

Flinching, he gifts you with pump after pump that spikes the sensations of your orgasm and makes you arch. So good. “O-oh my god– oh my god, angel.”

Mouthing out through your spittle-glued lips - the only thing that Higuruma can see right about now - ‘cum inside.’

And that’s all it takes- all it takes for your poor husband to lose his damn mind.

Higuruma feels his throat go raspy with moans upon moans of your name, babbling away. “Th-thank you-” His breath hitches at the thumping impact of every wire of seed trickling down to your cervix, the recoil of each single thwack! of webbed mass splattering in a recoil back to his capped tip. “Thank you thank you- thank you, sugar, for taking it all.”

Your greedy pussy so parched that you were practically slurping it all past your puffy entrance, every. single. drop.

It’s so filthy - your dribbling cunt is so filthy.

And Higuruma’s fucking blushing a bright, maidenly pink from the tips of his ears as he runs his left hand over the bubbling sheen of white escaping your quivering hole. Right hand reaching for that hastily-discarded phone of his-

“H-hello?” The partially-steady words startle you only a few sultry seconds later, “Yeah this is Higuruma- I’d like to call off today. My wife is…” And your husband chokes your shocked gasp with a fat thrust of his wettened, vein-decorated cock. Throbbing inside your squelching cunt for more, “-sick.”

A/N. Yesssss making them whiny men we looove-

Plagiarism not authorized.

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saetiate · 26 days ago

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okay i ran out of space in the tags when i was almost finished sorry for the additional short comments here :') please read the tags first and then this comment ahaha i have been commenting as i go through!!! tldr this is a beautiful fic i have been so excited to read it and your writing is brilliant!!!

OHMYGOD THE WAY THAT MYDEI WAS CAPTURED??? omg this plot twist... waugasf;jds i cannot believe this i am jaw dropped fr

WAHH IM SO EXCITED TO READ THE NEXT PART!!! i love that at the end he allows reader to feed him :') I WANNA KNOWW what the conditions are and how he gets out and i wanna see him and reader's relationship progress!!! im so excited ahaha this has been so fun!!! thank you for sharing your writing w the world!!!

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy.

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less.

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might.

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot.

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart.

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air.

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,” you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three.

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind.

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood.

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime.

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer.

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said.

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced.

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

#been waiting to have a moment just to read this :> excited hehe #cora rb: hsr #you 🤝 me ; not knowing much about amphoreus ahaha i have not played it yet either outside of seeing phainon’s entrance #i am immediately intrigued omg the statue and reader lowkey not even liking her husband???#calling his pride worthless and juvenile omg i love seeing through reader’s perspective #‘dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars’ absolutely beautiful line your writing is incredible #i love the way you write it truly feels like a novel or a fairytale written long ago ; like i’m reading the old folklore of another land #the comparison to a snake is absolutely stunning too ; actually lowk reminds me of oliver HAHAHA sorry that’s my wandering mind #yo what kinda gift is this (playful) (i’m aware it’s a development of the story dw HAHA i love how this is going and how you introduce plot #points)#thinking about mydei tied up did smth to me SORRY sorry irrelevant and inappropriate LAHDK he is so hot tho #YOUR BACKWARDS LAND HELLO I WILL MURDER HIM (playful and lighthearted but also a testament to the emotions in me your writing evokes)#‘scratched like bile’ same reader ohmygod u and i can start a murder this man alliance #‘a beast born of sun’ wow this is so beautiful. love the way you weave words together #reader having the foresight to put a hood on ; i love her intelligence and forethought. idk i just really love reader in this ahaha she #feels like a real character which i love a lot personally!!! i love her depth ; OKAY HELLO I got called away i hath come back to finish #reading!! sorry for the delay!! ; 'I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would' again so beautifully written #also mood as someone who has like never lived in the country they're from :')) waugh #'a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers' this is absolutely stunning too ; the dignity and hard-won pride #u describe i really really love this about him too and i love your characterization of him in this sense #'Does your language not have gods you can swear on?' WHEWWW WHAT A LINE (compliment)#'n truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him' YEAHHH GIRL LET HIM KILL YOUR HUSBAND WOOO (playful) HAHA #I'M ON TEAM MYDEI BABEY ; i love the lore building with the thrice blessed chains very very cool #'the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air' another absolutely beautiful #line ; 'swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke' I LOVEEE this #'Ten. That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here' AND THEN SHE WALKED AWAY HAHA I WAS LAUGHING #PLEASE the cousin thinking it's HIS LOVE ohmygod. ; awee reader's father loved her :'))) i love that for her ; OHMYGODDD MYDEI KNOWING #READER?? i LOVE a i have known you trope ohmygodd i love this #'So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation?' HAHA YEAHH GET HIMM

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lokissweater · 7 months ago

Text

miss pretty

{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}

summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his life— meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete goo— was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around… and for the better.

warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.

word count: 11.4k

authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and i’ve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333

katsuki bakugo hated messes.

“oi!” he grunted, his son’s little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. “you better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.”

“kaaayyy!” his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.

“and wash your hands too. ask your teacher.”

“mhm!” he chirped.

“and don’t be a brat. pay attention.”

“yup yup!”

and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirely— raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that he’s a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed… but he just hated mess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years old— katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.

that was of course, until he met you.

katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.

the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“can i help—”

“where the fuck is room twenty four.”

her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.

“e—excuse me?—”

he rolled his eyes.

“room twenty four.” he pushed. “where is it?”

“sir— if you need me to help you i’d like you to wait in line until—”

“hah?! absolutely not.” he spat. “if i wait in that fucking line my son’s gonna be late why can’t you just tell me—”

“uh sir if you could—”

katsuki’s son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.

“—sir please no foul language there are children around—”

“i don’t give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!—”

“oh! that’s my class!”

katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.

“is he one of my kids?” you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.

“oh—” he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. “i mean— if your class is twenty four—“

“it is!” you beamed, nudging your head. “i’ll show you where!”

“hiii miiiissss!” his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.

“hi honey!” you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. “what’s your name?”

“milo!”

“nice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?”

“yeaaahh!” he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.

katsuki’s eyes widened.

“milo!” he snapped lowly. “what’d i tell ya? you can’t grab her hand like that you have to ask—”

“oh it’s alright!” you dismissed, smiling. “i don’t mind it at all! the other kids do it too.”

milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.

“is he yours?” you asked kindly, tilting your head.

“who else would he be…” he grumbled.

“i guess you’re right!” you giggled. “he looks just like you.”

katsuki’s eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.

“here we are—”

“ooo! ooo!” milo hopped up and down. “miss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!”

he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadn’t even officially started yet.

“the hell you asking me for? ask your tea—”

“miss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!—”

“of course my love! go! go have fun.” you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.

“oi!” katsuki barked. “put them away when you’re done!”

he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the ‘abc’ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.

“he’s so cuteee.” you grinned. “i’m glad he’s not afraid being it’s his first day.”

“oh fuck no.” he mumbled. “milo doesn’t care. the little runt doesn’t have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askin’ sometimes.”

he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.

“but i guess he gets that from me.” he finished off.

you nodded. “but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

he pursed his lips.

“in my experience, not really.”

you hummed.

“i think it’s definitely a good thing… i’d rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.”

katsuki looked at you, properly this time.

“what’s a kindergarten teacher afraid of?”

you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.

“parents.”

he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.

inappropriate inappropriate inappropriate—

“i don’t know how you do it..” he spoke lowly.

“do what?”

“take care of little shits all day.”

you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“i don’t take care of them! i teach them.” you quipped cutely. “they’re small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge… and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.”

pure.

katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesn’t think he’s ever met or surrounded himself around someone who’s directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.

and his cheeks flared up for some reason.

“oh!” you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. “it’s almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!”

katsuki swallowed and nodded.

“milo!”

he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.

“don’t give her a hard time alright?” he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. “listen. listen and learn and be the best one in there.”

“kaaayyy!”

“and you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know how—”

“beat the crap out of them!” he cheered loudly and katsuki’s hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.

the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.

“he’s joking! he’s joking… fuck.”

you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.

“no you’re absolutely right!” you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. “treat others the way you want to be treated, so if someone’s being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!”

katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.

“okay, go.” milo ran off. “and don’t let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!”

“byeee daaaddd!”

you could tell that behind his harsh exterior— the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight you’ve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.

“don’t worry!” you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. “i’ll watch him especially… okay? to ease the nerves.”

he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.

“um…” he mumbled. “katsuki.”

you tilted your head. “katsuki?”

“it’s my name idiot.”

“oh!” you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. “nice to meet you katsuki! i’ll see you after school then with milo?”

he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something he’d never heard before in his life or was used to at all.

“…ya gonna tell me yours or what?”

“sorry!” you sputtered, laughing nervously. “sorry it just— flew! you know—”

you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.

“y/n!”

katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.

“i’ll see you katsuki!”

out of all of the kids you’ve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.

the little man was like your personal assistant— a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didn’t, ‘yelling’ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever he’d catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that you’d missed throughout the day.

all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.

“thanks for helping me out today, milo!” you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. “you made my job a lot easier!”

“really?!” he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.

and you noticed then milo’s lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didn’t fill him up— all so considerate and careful…

“wow!” you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “your lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?”

“nuh uh!” he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. “my dad did!”

you faltered.

“katsuki made this?”

“who’s katsuki miss?” he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.

you giggled. “nothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?”

you went to stand, but milo’s hand shot out and caught your wrist.

“can you— can you eat lunch with me?” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. “please.. i always eat with my dad but he’s not here…”

your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.

“of course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?”

“yaaaayyyy!” he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.

you knew you shouldn’t use a little kid to pry… but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.

and you wanted to be respectful in case he was… since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadn’t seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.

but he didn’t have a ring on his finger…

“milo?” you spoke up softly.

he smiled big. “yes miss!”

“does your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?”

he shook his head. “just my dad! i don’t have a mom.”

your shoulders deflated.

he didn’t have a mom… at all?

you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. “that’s alright! i’m sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?”

“yeah!” he gasped excitedly. “yesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!— and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!”

“oh my goodness!” you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. “man, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!”

his little eyes snapped to yours.

“i’ll tell him!”

your brows furrowed confusedly. “wha—”

“to make you lunch! i’ll tell my dad to make you lunch!”

your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. “oh no my love! that’s totally okay don’t worry about me silly—”

“i’ll tell him i’ll tell him i’ll tell him!—”

“milo it’s okay! i’m a big girl.” you grinned. “i’m supposed to make my own lunches.”

milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.

“…will you at least let me share some of mine?”

you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.

“of course sweetie! whatever you wa—”

milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.

“milo this is too much i can’t—”

“eat it! eat it! eait it!—”

by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take home— a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.

and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.

“milo!” you tapped his shoulder gently. “your daddy’s over there!”

“DAAADDD!!”

milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.

“were you a brat?” he grunted.

“nope!”

“did any kids mess with you?”

“nope!”

“did you leave a mess?”

“nope!”

you giggled, and katsuki’s eyes snapped in your direction.

“how was he?”

“he did so good!” you gushed, patting milo’s back as he grinned. “was my little helper and everything! didn’t leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else… he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.”

“yeah! yeah! see dad?” milo poked his dads cheek. “i didn’t lie!”

“never said you lied you little runt.” he scowled. “…but good job.”

“thanks!”

katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.

“did he actually do all of that?” he spoke up.

“oh yes!” you quickly nodded. “i’ve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!”

you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.

“you teach him well katsuki.”

he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.

“damn right i do.”

you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didn’t have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.

“hey i don’t mean to um..” you timidly began. “i don’t mean to pry but—”

katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.

“nothing! nothing nevermind—”

“spit it out.”

“no it’s alright! sorry i—”

he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.

“milo… milo mentioned that he didn’t have a mommy? i was just— wondering if that was true…”

“tch—” he shook his head. “that’s what you were afraid of askin’ me?”

“i told you i’m scared of parents…” you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.

“it’s just me and him.” he answered. “his mom’s never been a part of our lives.”

your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.

“don’t do that.”

you jumped and looked at katsuki.

“do— do what—”

“look all sad and shit.”

he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.

“it’s fine.” he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. “it doesn’t bother him. at least i don’t think it does.”

“no!” you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. “it doesn’t! and milo speaks so highly of you… especially the lunches you make him.”

his brows furrowed. “his lunch?”

“yeah!” you nodded excitedly. “you prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in half…”

he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.

“do you use molds?” you asked politely. “to shape out the bear?”

“fuck no.” he scoffed. “i do it myself.”

your eyes flew open.

“what?! so that’s really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blasts—”

“jesus christ how much did that kid tell you?”

your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.

“sorry!” you giggled. “i just was thinking— that his lunch was really cute and thoughtful…” you took your hand away from your face. “i’m really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.”

katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.

but it wasn’t suffocating in a bad way, not at all.

and… maybe he did want you to pull him in.

“dad dad dad!”

milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.

“there’s a dead lizard in the slide!”

“a dead lizard?” you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.

katsuki didn’t know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.

a bit.

“yeah miss! it was big and gross.” he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. “but i buried him!”

his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.

“don’t tell me you touched that thing milo.”

“i did!” he giggled.

“oh my fucking god—” katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“it’s a prank! some other girl in my class did… but i helped with the dirt!”

you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.

“say bye to your teacher ya little runt. and you’re still taking a shower when you get home!”

“but i don’t wanna take a showeerrr!” milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.

“bye my love!” you hugged him tight as he giggled. “i’ll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.”

“kaayyyy!”

you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.

katsuki choked on his spit.

“oi!” he barked. “you can’t just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!—”

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you smiled kindly. “he’s just being sweet is all! i don’t mind.”

“you sure?” he pushed, milo snickering. “i—”

you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning kats!”

and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took milo’s hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.

“and then we learned the days of the week! oh!— and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!”

“that’s good milo.” he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.

“did you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.”

“i did! i did share with her.” he grinned. “she liked my lunch!”

“good.” katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. “that’s good that you always share. especially with her.”

“yup yup! she’s preeettyyy.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.

“that she is.”

katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.

even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leaving— them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they weren’t supposed to, as per policy.

but not katsuki.

katsuki didn’t give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four… wanting to see you— his son’s pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasn’t, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that he’d gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your own— always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasn’t around.

and even katsuki himself— you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasn’t a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.

he had never experienced honest help like that… he’d never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single day…

and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.

“oh! miss y/n!”

“yes honey?” you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.

milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.

your brows furrowed, taking it from him.

“what’s this milo?”

“it’s from my dad!”

you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.

from katsuki?

“your— your dad?”

“mhm!”

you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.

“for me?” you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. “my love— are you sure this isn’t for you? i think your dad cut these up for you—”

“nope! for you!” he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. “he told me not to eat it and to give it to you.”

he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.

“i hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!”

“i— i love them milo.. thank you!”

you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.

he didn’t have to do this at all… yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.

and your heart nearly fucking gave out.

after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.

“hi kats!”

“hey.” he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, milo’s arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.

“i wanted to um—” you peered up at him. “i um—”

his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.

your bottom lip was trembling.

you hurriedly wiped your eyes.

“i wanted to thank you—” hic! “f—for the star shaped fruit this morning—”

“why are you crying dumbass?” he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.

“because it was so nice!” you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. “and— and you put honey over it too! you didn’t have to do any of that for me!”

“tch—”

he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.

“it’s just fruit y/n—”

“but it’s not.” you wiped your eyes again. “not to me anyways…”

katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for once— how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.

“crybaby…” he grumbled. “i’m glad you liked it though.”

“i did kats.. a lot. thank you.” you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. “i’m sorry i cried.”

what a pretty sweet girl…

he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.

was it okay if he… asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?

katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didn’t alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off… that he’d be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since it’d be too awkward to.

but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.

“listen uh—” he cleared his throat, face growing hot. “i was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me… sometime.”

you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.

“forget it.” he snapped. “forget it i didn’t say shit—”

“no! no no—” you quickly shook your head. “no it’s okay i would!”

he stopped.

“you would?”

“of course!” you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. “i’d love to have dinner with you…”

his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.

“a—alright uh…” he sighed. “i’d prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i don’t really have anyone to watch milo—”

you shook your head again, brows pinched. “oh no kats— we don’t have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? or— or my place?”

“my place.” he replied. “and i’ll cook.”

he cooks?!

“okay!” you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over milo’s sleepy head gently. “sounds good!”

katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldn’t believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.

and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were coming— pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.

especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!

“milo!” katsuki called. “come ‘ere!”

his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. “what!”

“be good today, ya hear me?” he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautéed vegetables in his frying pan. “please milo. don’t try to be funny and do somethin’ to scare y/n off.”

milo gave him a look.

“scare miss y/n off? dad you’re gonna scare her off not me!” he giggled. “silly.”

“yeah..” he grunted. “you’re probably right but i’m just sayin’. i’m thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.”

“ohhh yeeeeah!” he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. “i did do that!”

“see what i mean?” katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. “you better not do that with y/n please.”

“i won’t!” he grinned. “not when she’s about to be my new mommy!”

katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“the hell you just say?”

“what!” milo tilted his head. “that y/n is gonna be my new mommy?”

his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.

“oh you little runt please don’t say that in front of her, alright?”

he pouted. “why not?”

“you’ll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!”

“boooo!” milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. “whatever.”

“oi!”

“what!”

katsuki’s doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.

“missss preettyyyy!!—”

“milo get your ass back here!—”

katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“i’m sorry—”

“hiii misss y/nnn!” milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. “i’m so exciteeeddd!—”

“hi my love!” you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. “how are you? you excited to hang out with meee?”

“yes! yes!” he vigorously nodded. “i wanna show you all my race cars!”

“oh i can’t wait to seeee!” you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.

“hi kats!”

“the little brat is hogging—”

milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.

you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little man’s back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.

and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.

katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what you’d think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that he’d even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonight’s dinner.

“i’m sorry i’m behind…” he grumbled and waved his hand around. “had to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckin’ mud this morning.”

“oh you don’t have to apologize for that kats!” you looked at him worriedly. “you don’t have to apologize for anything i totally understand…”

you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. “i’m just happy to spend time with the both of you.”

katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.

“miss preettyyyy!” milo whined. “when can i show you my race cars?!”

katsuki scowled and you laughed.

“now honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?”

“yayayay!!” milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.

milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rug— telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places they’d gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.

and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldn’t, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up milo’s booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the table—

and gourmet fucking dishes at that.

you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months you’d gotten to know him, but you didn’t know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.

“kats…” you murmured. “what do you do for a living.”

“i told you idiot.” he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down milo’s mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. “i’m a cook.”

“yeah but what kind? where?”

“why?” he gruffed. “does it look like shit?”

“no!” you giggled. “absolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“duh.” he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. “i’m an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.”

your jaw dropped. “the city?! you’re so cool kats! oh my goodness!”

his face flushed.

“my dad says his boss is a piece of—”

“don’t say it!” katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.

“milo i told ya not to cuss until you’re ten—”

“ten?!” you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. “as long as he cusses with you and not at you… i think it should be fine!”

katsuki stopped.

you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.

“miss pretty!” milo called.

“yes my love?”

“do you have a boyfriend?”

katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.

“i don’t!” you grinned. “why milo?”

“because i want you to be my new—”

“milo if ya shut your mouth right now i’ll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.”

his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.

“his new what?” you tilted your head cutely, katsuki’s heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.

he shrugged. “the fuck should i know?”

“but i wanna know!” you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.

he swallowed.

“do you want dessert?”

you gasped. “oh my god yes! i do!”

“then i suggest you shut your mouth too.”

you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.

katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.

“dad!” milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.

“what’d you make for dessert!”

“mochi.”

“yaaaayyyyy!” he cheered happily. “can i eat it with y/n in the living room?”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “the living room?”

“yeah!” milo exclaimed. “so i can keep showing her my race cars!”

he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. “alright… but don’t make a mess i just cleaned—”

you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and milo’s choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.

his living room was a mess… but he didn’t mind.

katsuki didn’t mind the mess.

your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kids— paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.

but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?

katsuki didn’t fucking care.

because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite children’s books you got from his little shelf in his room— ‘the very hungry caterpillar,’ one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever you’d make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.

and katsuki felt warm… that’s all he ever felt when he was around you.

is this what it was like to be a family?

“oh my goodness i almost forgot!” you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. “i brought something for you honey!”

milo gasped and sat up. “really?! what?!”

you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.

“woah..” his son whispered. “what is it?”

you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.

the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.

and all katsuki could do was stare at you.

stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.

about him.

and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.

you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.

“i’m sorry i made such a mess in your living room..” you whispered bashfully. “i promise i’ll pick everything up before i leave.”

he shook his head. “don’t worry about it i can pick up. it’s fine.”

you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.

“was it hard raising milo on your own kats?” you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.

“it was at first.” he mumbled. “but i got used to doin’ it on my own.”

you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he would’ve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.

“you did an exceptional job, okay?” you began. “you should know that... milo is such an honest kid… and he’s so precious too.”

katsuki’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.

“he is.” he grunted softly. “don’t know how his mom didn’t see that.”

you faltered and sat up with him.

“what do you mean?”

katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.

“ah… milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.” he mumbled. “didn’t love her or anythin’, i barely knew her but still told her i’d support her and the baby obviously.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born… but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the mornin’ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.”

you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.

“are you— are you serious?”

katsuki nodded.

“she wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.” he shook his head bitterly. “but i didn’t give a shit about me i’ll raise him i don’t care. it was never about me.

he looked at you. “it was about milo. i didn’t want him to know that his ‘mom’ left him behind like that, and i didn’t want him to think it was his fault or anythin’… shits ridiculous.”

katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. “still don’t know how she could ever do something like that.”

the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.

“you’re crying?”

you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.

“that’s so cruel.” you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. “you didn’t deserve that at all kats… milo didn’t deserve that you both should’ve had such a good mommy and— and a good support system—”

katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

“you cry over everything y/n.”

“s—” hic! “—sorry—”

he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.

more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.

“oi…”

katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“don’t cry baby…”

baby?!

you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.

“stop it idiot.” he mumbled. “it’s fine. it happened years ago n’ milo and i have always been alright on our own.”

…but he wanted you now.

now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time… and katsuki wanted you so. bad.

“i know..” you hiccuped. “and i’m really glad but i just wish you had someone.”

you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. “m’sorry i cried all over your shirt—”

“don’t give a fuck.”

you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.

you were always crying for him.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.

“thanks for comin’ today.”

you smiled brightly and nodded.

“of course kats! how could i not?” you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. “i want you to know that i wanna be there for you and milo…”

he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.

“whether— whether you wanna keep seeing me or not—” you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. “which i hope you do! but— but if not that’s totally fine i just want to be there for you both…”

how were you so pure? so thoughtful?

“why the hell wouldn’t i wanna keep seeing you?” he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. “i’d be stupid as fuck not to…”

you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.

and you were so pretty.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

he slowly leaned closer.

“would you be mad if i made a move on you—”

“of course not—”

katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.

you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.

katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.

your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.

“k—kats—” you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.

he grunted.

“milo—” you pointed. “he’s waking up—”

“the fucks that gotta do with us—”

“kats!”

he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.

“the little runt is fine—” he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.

“nooo!” you whined and giggled softly. “now i’m scared he’s gonna wake up…”

he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.

katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around you— feeling so safe and looked after.

and you hadn’t expected to sleep over… but you just didn’t wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didn’t want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and milo’s soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topics— ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.

since then, katsuki didn’t wanna let you out of his sight.

as if he wasn’t already involved enough with milo’s school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that weren’t selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.

the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.

and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.

except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldn’t get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever you’d open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.

you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsuki’s house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at milo’s sporadic comments or katsuki’s barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsuki— the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.

and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didn’t know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappy— the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.

“make sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? it’s hot today and i don’t want you to tire yourself out milo.”

the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitats— the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.

katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.

“single file line please my loves!” you called, hand by your mouth. “and don’t seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can see—”

“oi!” katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. “the fuck do you think you’re doing!—”

“kats!” you breathed out a shocked laugh. “you’re gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like that—”

“shit! sorry— i’m sorry baby hold on—”

katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.

“do that again and see what happens brat.” he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.

“okay okay—” you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.

“no more running alright?” you placed your hands on your hips. “don’t we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!”

“yeeeeaaaahhhh!!” the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.

“lemme help ya with one line baby—” katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.

“no! no! i wanna hold miss y/n’s hand!”

katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “what’s so bad about me hah?”

“you’re ugly! miss y/n is pretty!”

the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.

you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.

“what honey?” you tilted your head.

“none of your business.”

you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.

the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they ‘listened’ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsuki’s muscles looked under his t-shirt.

“any questions sweetheart?”

“huh?” your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. “oh! no not at all! thank you ma’am!”

“alrighty then! just please make sure to tell your students—”

suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like she’d seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” you guiltily apologized. “my kids will settle down they’re just excited is all…”

the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.

“oh god..” you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.

“milo?” you called softly, walking up to him.

your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.

“oh no!” you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. “what’s wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?”

you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.

“i can’t draw!” he sniffled. “and the koi fishies keep moving…”

your shoulders relaxed in relief.

“that’s okay!” you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. “as long as we’re patient with the fishies, they’ll swim back and you can draw them again!”

you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.

“there!” milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.

“and now we wait!” you grinned up at him. “the fishy will come back around and you’ll be able to draw it again.”

“kayyy!!”

“and you can draw milo. i’ve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!”

he giggled. “i do miss pretty!”

you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.

“now you try honey—”

“i love you.”

you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.

you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.

“i’m not— i’m not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethin’ dumb but i do.”

“kats—”

“and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits n’ shit… and i always thought you kinda just knew…”

milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.

“you’re so patient baby. the way you are with me… the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i can’t live without it at this point…” he spoke genuinely. “your fuckin’ fault.”

you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.

“come here.”

you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.

“do you love me too or what.” he frowned. “cause if not this is shitty and embarrassing—”

“no i do!” you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. “i do kats you know that… i love you. so much.”

he smiled and pecked your lips. “good, miss pretty.”

katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something he’d be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.

because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?

“oh my god that dumbass kid is climbin’ the fence again— oi!”

katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.

“miss pretty!” milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. “i drew it! do you like it?!”

“wow milo!” you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. “this is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!”

“thank youuu!” he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.

you tilted your head. “do you wanna tell me something else?”

“yeaaahhh.” he dragged. “please love my dad… i know he’s mean but— but he doesn’t mean it!”

your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.

“and love me too… because i want you to be my new mommy…”

you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.

“i do love your dad honey… and you. the both of you i love so so much.”

he beamed. “really?!”

you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “and i thought i was already your mommy milo!”

the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.

“YAAAYYY!” he yelled. “miss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!”

ever since you came into katsuki’s life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.

because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of place— it was warm now… happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.

the three of you were a little family.

and katsuki didn’t know why he hated messes so much in the first place.

because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boys’ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough ones— your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasn’t just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of milo’s small hands were occupied now instead of just one.

katsuki’s life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.

and katsuki bakugo loved messes.

so as long as they were from you.

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