#what the hell would he do if he was running away from a pro hero and a hand fell off??

[collisiondiscourse]

all might: tenko my boy! is that you?

shigaraki:

all might: you have your grandmother's hands!

shigaraki:

all might: and... it appears... your father's and your mother's and your sister's

all might: oh good lord,

[mononijikayu]

ni yao de ai — ryomen sukuna.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?” And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?” Then it became bigger and bigger. One after the other, he could not shut up. He was, after all, too damn in love. “Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?” And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 6k words.

Note: i'm working on the actor nanami fic, so here is something for you to enjoy while you wait for that. also, i keep thinking about how sukuna would have been like pro-hero bakugo had he not been dating reader. like, he would be so good at volleyball, but he would be so eager to be blunt about absolutely everything and just be so crass, you know??? anyway, our sukuna managed to not be like that, cause he's #1 lover boy first. enjoy this!!! see you in a couple days!! i love you!!! <3

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THIS WAS NOT OUT OF THE ORDINARY NOWADAYS, FOR YOU TO SIT HERE. Your long-time boyfriend, professional volleyball player Ryomen Sukuna, has always been a bit of a big deal. Well, you try to not make it to be but you both know that it is.

He was undeniably talented, incredibly confident, and dangerously charismatic. But it wasn’t until this past year, when he officially made Japan’s national team and became their standout player, that his star practically exploded.

And with that… came you.

You didn’t ask for it at all. The attention, the headlines, the fan-cams. However, by virtue of loving Sukuna, you had become a fair bit of a participant in his stardom. And it wasn’t like Sukuna did it on purpose. 

Well, actually he kind of did. Because if there was one thing about your boyfriend, it was that he never shied away from publicly loving you. In fact, he leaned in. Hard.

And you?

You could never say no to him when he asked. Ever. Because you loved him as he is, and that includes loving you. And if supporting him meant occasionally being pulled into the spotlight alongside him. Well… you’d do it a million times over. That’s how much you loved him. 

It started small at first.

Little moments here and there.

Well, he tried to ease you into it.

Like when Sukuna played his first international match for Japan, and you sat quietly in the front row with his family. You thought you were being lowkey, just there to support your love. But the cameras caught you. Multiple times. Your face blown up on the jumbotron — smiling, proud, hands clasped in silent prayer every time he served.

Sukuna noticed you on the screen mid-game, and instead of ignoring it like any normal athlete would. And then he would go on and smirk. Then almost like he can’t help it, he winked at you. On live television. You damn near sank into the earth.

The clip instantly blew up on Twitter. 

Everyone on the internet lost its mind. 

Suddenly there were viral captions like:

“When the national team’s ace makes eye contact with his girl mid-game and winks?????”

“The way he’s SO unapologetically in love I’m crying.”

“The girlfriend has MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY I’m obsessed.”

And you? You just wanted to disappear.

Ryomen Sukuna, on the other hand, ate it up.

“You see how they love us, babe?” he grinned later that night, scrolling through TikTok edits of you two.

“My love, I was literally just sitting there.”

“Nahhh, you were the cutest girlfriend alive.”

“Stop watching the videos, I look like I was going to hurl because of nervousness.”

“Nope. I’m obsessed with us. Sorry, babe.”

But then it started escalating. Almost too quickly. The more Ryomen Sukuna won on the national stage. And the more the media realized he could not shut up about you. The more you started to become a topic. At first, it was small questions during post-game conferences.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?”

And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?”

Then it became bigger and bigger.

One after the other, he could not shut up.

He was, after all, too damn in love.

“Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?”

And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

And suddenly you were trending on Twitter at every single match. 

People started calling you “Japan’s National Team Girlfriend”. 

There were TikToks like “POV: You’re dating an Olympic-level volleyball player and he’s obsessed with you”. Someone even made a fan account dedicated to you. Some people are making fan accounts about the two of you. It was just insane.

You were horrified about it.

You never expected this.

Sukuna, however, was thriving.

“Babe, you’re famous now.”

“I am just—this is crazy, my love. I didn’t think this for myself.”

“Too bad. You’re dating a national treasure. That makes you one too.”

“You're the only national treasure here, not me—”

“Wrong. We’re a package deal. We always have been, babe.”

“Well, fuck. Looks like I gotta know how to deal with this.” You sighed, leaning into the couch. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” He says, looking at you with those warm loving eyes. “Very much.”

You sighed, moving close to lean into him. “I love you too. Very much.”

And then, of course, came the Vogue interview soon after that.

Sukuna got asked to do a pre-Olympic feature for Vogue Japan. It was going to be a full-blown video interview and magazine spread to highlight him as the country’s volleyball superstar heading to his first Olympic Games. 

You didn’t think much of it at first—until Sukuna casually mentioned. “They wanna do a segment with you, too.”

You froze. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, you know….like those….interviews we watch.” Sukuna said it, like it was the most casual thing. “Like a couples segment. You know. Cute shit.”

“Okay, but this is insane. I don’t think I’m good enough to be interviewed for a magazine like Vogue.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most beautiful and smartest person in the world, like the coolest. How could you not be in the magazines?”

“You’re just saying this cause you’re biased.”

“So?” He snickered, leaning closer to you like a cat to his owner. “Isn’t my opinion the only thing that matters?”

“My love, please—”

“Babe, come on. It’ll be fun. Just some quick questions. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Are you sure you want me there?”

“I always want you with me.” He whispers to you, eyes adoringly looking at you. Almost begging. “Please come with me.…I’ll make it worth your while later.”

You can’t say no to him. Not like this. Not ever. You sighed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

And so, here you are now, right beside your boyfriend, in this studio.

The massive studio hummed with quiet energy. You could feel the subtle buzz of camera equipment, the low chatter of the production crew, and the muffled thuds of footsteps as people flitted around making last-minute adjustments.

Despite the growing tension in the room, there was one person who looked like he couldn’t be less bothered and that was Ryomen Sukuna himself. Your beloved Sukuna is now Japan’s top star volleyball player right now.

The man who was about to debut in his very first Olympic Games. And yet he sat there like he was in his living room, entirely unruffled by the cameras or the fact that the world was about to have their eyes glued on him.

To him, this was just like any other day. It was nothing special, nothing worth that much of a fuzz. It’s media day. Well, of course he was with you. That was always something that made him happy.

But the occasion in itself just as it was, like on all work days.

It truly did make sense for him to be like that.

After all, Sukuna had been through enough media circus for the past few years. With all the pre-game conferences, after-game interviews, constant media coverage during training camps.

By now, cameras had become like background noise to him. Even though he wasn’t the most camera-savvy person, he had long accepted that it came with the job. As much as you have.

Though, you know it was just still so insane. This level of fame was not something you expected to see. But well, what can you do? Your boyfriend is an ace at anything he does, and he always will be.

So here he was now, gold chain glinting under the bright studio lights, his long arm draped casually behind your chair as if he had all the time in the world. His thumb, rough, calloused from years of playing was tenderly brushed the curve of your shoulder absentmindedly, warm and familiar. His long legs were spread obnoxiously wide, his knee brushing against yours like it belonged there.

You, however, were fighting down a giggle like you did when you were both younger. It wasn’t fair how good he looked in front of the camera. Your Sukuna was in his official team Japan tracksuit, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.

His messy pink hair was styled back, just enough for his sharp jawline to be obnoxiously prominent and his signature smug grin made it look like he had already won gold before even stepping onto the court.

And then like he could feel you staring, Sukuna leaned toward you. 

You raised a brow as you finally noticed his ruby eyes tender on you.

“What? There something on my face?”

“Bet I can answer faster than you, babe.” His voice dropped low, just for you to hear, the gravel in his tone sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You snorted, glancing at him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t embarrass me, my love.”

His grin sharpened, canines flashing. “No promises, babe.”

You groaned to yourself.

You were so screwed.

He’s competitive even on this.

The interviewer settles in her seat across from you both, a friendly smile on her face. “Alright, we’re rolling!” she calls out. “Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The crew claps behind the camera and you and Sukuna stand up, quickly bowing your heads lowly to everyone in the room, greeting them politely one by one. The crew did the same, with eyes full of awe as they both looked at you two as you sat down.

“Alright, hello everyone!” the interviewer finally smiled, straightening in her seat. “We’re here today with Ryomen Sukuna, Japan’s powerhouse volleyball player heading to his very first Olympic Games — and we’ve got his longtime girlfriend, [Your Name], who is also a Astrophysics researcher joining us today!”

Sukuna perked up a little at that introduction, his grin widening. “Renowned, huh?” He turned to you, his voice dropping low, teasing. “Damn, babe. Are you that famous now, my baby?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting down a smile. “Says the Olympic athlete. Let’s not do this, please.”

The interviewer laughed. “We are so excited to have you both here. Thank you for making time despite your hectic schedules — especially you, [Your Name]. I imagine taking a break from Astrophysics research work isn’t easy?”

“Oh—” you started, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I really shouldn’t have gotten a break. I was actually supposed to have a research advisory today…”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brows raising. “Wait—what?”

You blinked. “…Huh, what?”

“You never told me that. I thought you just got permission.” Sukuna scoffed, his head tilting. “Babe, you really have a major advisory today? How the hell did you get off work?”

“Ohhh, yeah…” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah… funny thing about that.”

The interviewer’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

You hesitated and then bit back a smile. “So… My head researcher’s daughter is actually a huge fan of Sukuna. Like, borderline obsessed.”

Sukuna’s brows shot higher. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” you chuckled sheepishly. “And when they found out I was doing this interview with him, my boss was like, ‘Yeah, just get me his autograph and I’ll look the other way on you missing the advisory.’”

Sukuna immediately cackled. “Really? That’s damn hilarious.”

“Swear to god, it's crazy in there when it comes to you.” you laughed, sinking a little in your seat. “He told me, ‘If you get me a video of him saying hi to my daughter, I’ll even let you off the hook for the paperwork you forgot to pass last week.’”

“Babe.” Sukuna turned his entire body toward you, his grin practically ear-to-ear. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? That’s easy. Just give me a pen later—hell, I’ll record her a whole-ass personalized video.”

You scoffed, blushing. “Oh my god, no—you don’t have to do that much—”

“Nahhh, I gotchu, babe, don’t worry.” Sukuna grinned mischievously, already plotting. “I’ll make her dad look like a hero. Gonna be like: ‘Hey princess, your dad is the real MVP for letting your fave’s girlfriend skip work today to give you content.’”

You smacked his arm, mortified. “Oh my god, you are so insane.”

The production crew lost it almost immediately.

The interviewer covered her mouth, laughing.

“I’m serious!” Sukuna laughed, scarlet eyes crinkling. “You know how many brownie points that’ll get you at work? You could literally ghost them for a week and they’ll still cover for you.”

“Oh my god, stop—”

“And the paperwork you forgot?” Sukuna shot you a playful smirk. “I’ll just sign it with ‘Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend is a genius, give her a raise.’ Boom. Problem solved.”

“RYOMEN SUKUNA.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Sukuna raised his hands in surrender. “Just don’t call me that, okay? You know what my name is.”

The interviewer was crying. “I am so sorry, I can’t breathe—you guys are adorable.”

You slumped in your seat, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never living this down.”

Sukuna just laughed harder, his hand finding your thigh and giving it a warm squeeze. “Nah, you’re good, babe. I’ll make sure you’re employee of the month after this.”

The interviewer, trying to recover. “W-well! We really appreciate you being here, [Your Name]. Seriously. It's not every day we get a literal astrophysicist and an Olympic athlete in the same room.”

“Oh no, I should be the one thankful!” you stammered, still flustered from Sukuna’s antics. “Thank you for having me here with my love. Honestly, it’s such a privilege.”

Sukuna practically preened. “Her love. You guys heard that, right?”

You smacked his arm. “Oh god, don’t even start.”

“Too late, babe.” Sukuna grinned smugly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m riding that high all day. Like, that’s from the one I love right there. I’m riding this forever.”

“You can’t just—” You lower your face to your hands, feeling yourself warm. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t get embarrassed so fast!”

“I’m trying hard not to!”

The interviewer was now fully crying from laughing.

And you? You were about two seconds away from melting into the floor from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

You just can’t believe he’s like this today.

“So, uh, are you guys ready for some quickfire ten-second questions?” She asks as you finally recover, lifting your head.

Sukuna cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Easy. We’ve been together more than a decade or so. I can ace this.”

You scoff. “You’re gonna overthink everything.”

Sukuna feigns offense. “Excuse you? I’m very decisive.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alright, let’s put that to the test. First question: Sukuna, what’s your favorite pre-game meal?”

“Ramen.” he says instantly. Then, a beat later, “Wait. No. Her curry. Yeah, yeah. That one….the spicy one. Final answer.”

Your mouth drops open. “Are you serious? I thought you hated it.”

He grins smugly. “It’s true. I loved it all. Took another plate after you left. Your food hits different, you know?"

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “O–okay, I guess.”

The interviewer beams. “Cute. Okay, [Your Name], what’s his go-to post-game routine?”

“Oh, easy.” you say, straight-faced. “Complaining about his back. Then how he doesn’t like how Gojo Satoru took that line shot at him at a game. Take a ridiculously long, hot shower. He has a beer before we eat dinner. Then aggressively demands my cuddles.”

Sukuna sputters at you. “Aggressively?!”

You arch a brow. “You corner me in the kitchen. Every time.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, his large hand sliding to your knee. “Okay, fine. Fair point.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Alright, Sukuna — who’s the first person you call after a big win?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Her. Always her. And she picks up, even mid-experiment.”

Your chest tightens, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re too much.”

“Hey, I really do call you the most after every match.”

“And after a loss?” she presses.

Sukuna leans slightly toward you, his arm shifting so his hand now rests protectively on your thigh. “Also her. But I’m significantly more annoying.”

You snort. “So much pouting. He becomes, like, unbearable.”

Sukuna gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Unbearable?! I’m mourning, babe!”

“You’re sulking. Just like right now.”

“Same thing!”

The interviewer is practically doubled over laughing. “I love this dynamic. Okay, favorite thing about each other — go.”

Sukuna’s answer is immediate. “Her laugh. Hands down. Best sound in the world.”

Your heart lurches, face instantly heating. “Oh my god, shut up—”

“No, like dead serious, babe.” he interrupts, his smile softening. “Could be having the worst day ever, and if she laughs? I’m good.”

You smack his arm, your face now an embarrassing shade of red. “You’re being gross on camera!”

Sukuna shrugs, unbothered. “Truth is truth, babe.”

The interviewer melts. “Okay, your turn, [Your Name].”

You stammer, still flustered. “Uhh—” you scramble to think of something non-cheesy, but instead, your mouth betrays you. “The way he always warms his hands before touching my face.”

Sukuna freezes. “…Huh?”

You blink. “…What?”

“That’s your favorite thing?” he asks, blinking at you like you’d just dropped a bombshell.

You squirm. “I mean, yeah. You do it all the time. Like, even if we’re just watching a movie or something — you always warm your hands first. It’s cute.”

The grin that spreads across Sukuna’s face is devastating. “You’re so obsessed with me.”

You physically groan. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The interviewer is practically swooning. “This is the cutest thing ever—okay, okay, next one. Sukuna, if you could steal any skill from your girlfriend, what would it be?”

“Her patience.” he deadpans.

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“No, like actually, I really think you mastered it so much.” he insists, leaning forward. “You have no idea how insane she is at staying calm. Like, I’ll be losing my mind over a game or a bad practice, and she’ll just—” he waves his hand, mimicking your nonchalant demeanor, “‘Okay, babe, it’s fine. You’ll win next time.’ Like. What the hell? Where do you get that?”

You’re dying of laughter. “It’s called balance, my love.”

“It’s witchcraft.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Then learn it.”

He laughs at your words. “No, but I’m genuine about this. My girl can sit there and deal with a long day where her research yields bad results and do it again even though it takes long. And come home to me sulking and just know how to be just as patient.”

You looked at him, eyes full of love. “You’re so….I love you. Just a lot.”

He smiles back at you. “Love you too, babe.”

The interviewer sighed, whimsically. “I love you two so much. Okay, final question—and you both have to answer this.” She leans in dramatically. “What’s the very first thing you’ll do if you win gold at the Olympics?”

Sukuna’s cocky grin is instant. “Kiss her. On live TV.”

Your jaw drops “‘kuna, my love! Don’t just say that!”

“What?” he laughs, utterly shameless. “Manifesting, babe.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Your boyfriend snickers. “Yeah, you say that now but you’re gonna make out with me after this—”

“Oh my god, not here!”

The interviewer howls with laughter. “And what about you, [Your Name]?”

You glare at Sukuna but ultimately sigh in defeat. “I guess… I’ll let him.”

Sukuna beams, victorious. “See? Obsessed with me. You were lying earlier, hm? Saying you won’t and now here you are, you admit the truth. I am so vindicated.”

You slap his arm, but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but I am your annoyance. That's my happy life right there, being loved by you like that.”

The interviewer shakes her head, still giggling. “I swear, if you actually win gold and kiss her on live TV, I’ll play this clip everywhere.”

Sukuna’s arm curls around your shoulder, pulling you in. “You better be ready, babe. I’m serious.”

And the terrifying part? You can already picture it. Because you know that he can do it. He can win it all just like that. You could see the gold medal around his neck, the camera zooming in, and Ryomen Sukuna turning straight to you with that same smug grin before sweeping you off your feet.

You purse your lips into a flat line, blushing. “Yeah, yeah…..I’m prepared.”

The interview finally wraps up there.

You’re still a little dazed. The cameras, the lights, the overly intimate questions about your relationship—but Ryomen Sukuna? He still looks happy, still completely unbothered. Like he lives for this. Which, you suppose, he does.

His arm never leaves your shoulder as you stand to shake hands with the Vogue team, his thumb still brushing absentminded circles against your skin. And just as you think you can finally slink away into the background, done with all the attention, Ryomen Sukuna pulls you right back in.

“Babe, c’mon.” he murmurs, his mouth brushing your temple. “Stay for the photoshoot.”

You blink. “What?”

“The shoot. They’re doing my Olympic feature photoshoot now.” He grins like he already knows how this will go. “Hang around for a bit.”

Your eyes narrow. “I thought this part was just you?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you need me here?”

“Moral support.” he says with a teasing smirk. “Also, you look really cute today, and I need you to stand there and be hot while I take photos.”

You gawk. “My love…..”

“What?” He shrugs, pulling you even closer as he starts walking toward the set. “I’m serious. Just stand off to the side, babe. I’ll behave.”

You have exactly zero trust in that promise. But you sigh and let him tug you along anyway. Because at the end of the day, you can’t say no to him. You never could. Not then and certainly not now. That’s just how much you loved the man.

So you do stay. But you try your hardest to stay out of the way. This is just for him, and only for him. You shouldn’t meddle. This isn’t for you. You do not want to get involved. So you make sure he sees you but sees you preoccupied, as you take food from the snack pile and coffee from the coffee machine.  

The photoshoot setup is expansive. There were grand lighting rigs, enormous backdrops, a team of stylists fussing over Sukuna’s hair and clothes. He’s already swapped his casual attire for his Japan national team uniform, crisp and iconic in its red and white.

And good god, you were stunned.

He looks obscenely good, even better than normal.

You were just hypnotized.

Like, you can definitely say that it's an actual deity-tier sort of beauty. Tall and lean, the muscles in his arms and thighs practically sculpted. His sharp features and dark tattoos look even more striking against the stark white backdrop. And the way he carries himself. It was that dangerous, unbothered confidence that had the photographers practically swooning as much as you were already.

You stand quietly off to the side, as you stuff yourself with snacks. You were doing your best to stay unnoticed and so far so good. But the moment Sukuna locks eyes with you from across the room, in the middle of his solo shoot, you already know you’re already fucked.

Because he grins. That stupid, sharp, predatory grin.

And you just know something is going to happen.

Because, you know that look on his face.

He’s about to pull some bullshit.

“Alright, Sukuna — tilt your chin up a bit. Perfect, perfect — can we get some more intensity in those scarlet eyes?”

He obliges easily, shifting his stance. For a few moments, you think you’re in the clear. Maybe he’ll actually behave. Maybe he’ll just get through his shoot without doing anything that would just throw you off your horses.

“Hey.” Sukuna suddenly calls out — loud enough for the entire set to hear. His gaze zeroes in on you. “Can she come here real quick?”

Your stomach drops.

The entire team turns to look at you.

Your soul leaves your body.

“I swear to god…..” you hiss, mortified. “No—”

“C’mon, babe.” he grins. “Just real quick. Just one picture.”

The photographer, looking intrigued, asks, “Wait — are you talking about her?”

“Yeah. Of course I’m talking about her.” Sukuna says smoothly. “That’s my girl.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

You try to melt into the floor. “My love, no—”

“Babe, come on.” he says, mockingly sweet, “I thought you were here for moral support? Come on, just one picture. I won’t even ask them to include it in the spread.”

The team just absolutely loves what’s happening right now. They’re already whispering to each other, eyes lighting up with interest. One of the assistants, who was clearly a hopeless romantic, suddenly gasps, “Oh my god, can we get her in a couple of shots?”

“No, no, no you don’t have to.” you stammer, mortified. “I-I’m not part of the shoot—”

“You are now, babe.” Sukuna smirks, already striding over to grab your hand.

“My love, I’m not even— I didn’t sign anything—”

“Babe, relax.” he murmurs, tugging you right into the center of the set like it’s nothing. “You’re not doing a solo shoot. Just stand next to me. That’s it.”

The photographer, gleeful, immediately jumps in: “Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes. Let’s do a few couple shots. Just casual. We can get a few ‘power couple’ frames, I love this.”

“No, please, it’s not fair to you all or him.” you say, panicked. “It’s his shoot, I’m not supposed to—”

Sukuna grins down at you. “C’mon, babe. What’s one photo?”

You glare. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He tugs you even closer. “C’mon, let me show off my pretty girlfriend a little. Please?”

“…I hate you so much.”

The next twenty minutes are the most unhinged photoshoot of your life.

It starts simple. Ryomen Sukuna standing tall in his Olympic uniform, with you just casually next to him. He’s still smug and composed, while you try your best to look like you belong there. But then it escalates, as it always does with him.

“Can you put your arm around her waist?” the photographer asks.

Sukuna immediately complies, almost too gleefully, you might add, as he was pulling you flush against his side, his arm curling snug around your lower back.

“Actually, can you lean down and nuzzle into her neck a bit? Just natural intimacy.”

You really could feel your soul just saying a hail mary and saying goodbye for good. Your Sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. His mouth brushes your temple, his nose drags against your skin, and he actually whispers in your ear: “Told you you’d be in this shoot, babe.”

“I hate you so much, like a lot. Right now.” you grit, cheeks burning.

“You love me, a lot. I can tell.” he grins. “Like look at that bright eyed love!”

“Can we get one with her in front of him? Like, you know, back to his chest?” The director suddenly says.

You barely have time to react before Sukuna’s already wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. His long fingers splay warmly across your stomach, deliberately making the pose look far too intimate.

The camera shutter goes crazy.

And then—the final blow from the director:

“Okay, for the last shot—Sukuna, can you kiss her?”

Your brain explodes. “WHAT—”

“Ohhh, I think I can.” Sukuna drawls, thrilled. “Hang on.”

“I swear to god, you can’t just—my love!”

Too late for any arguments, he’s made up his mind. His hand slides up to your jaw, his thumb tilting your chin just slightly. And then, without a hint of shame, he leans down and kisses you. Right there. On the set. With the cameras flashing like crazy.

It’s not even a small kiss. It’s full and lingering. It’s passionate and hot and burning. It was the type of kiss that only belongs to you two. Yet you don’t push him away or pull away. Instead, you let his hand cup the edge of your face, his mouth molds against yours, and you feel his stupid grin against your lips.

The photographer practically screams. “Oh my god, that was too good! That was just perfect!”

You finally part from him. But it took you a bit before you were back down to earth from the spellbound trip to love. “You are so annoying, I swear!”

“Babe.” he says, smug as hell. “I think we just sold out this magazine issue.”

“I’m going to kill you, that was too passionate! That’s just for us—"

“Please. You’re gonna frame these photos later.”

“Ugh, no I won’t!”

“You so will.”

And when the photos do come out, everything just shifts in the world. The entire internet loses its mind over Japan’s national volleyball ace and his head-over-heels-in-love girlfriend like he always is, you realize, miserably, that Ryomen Sukuna was absolutely right.

Because you do, in fact, frame one of the photos.

Well, almost all the photos you got.

And what does Ryomen Sukuna do?

He never shuts up about it.

══════════════════

epilogue

The group chat video call came in less than five minutes after the interview aired. You barely had time to process the fact that the clip of you and Sukuna had already exploded on social media — like a firestorm-level viral. 

Your phone was pinging nonstop with texts, notifications, and Twitter mentions of people collectively losing their minds over “Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF” like it was the rom-com of the century. Like it was the most important trope out there.

And just when you thought you could quietly crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment…

Incoming Video Call: “Menaces + Nanami (we tolerate him)”

“Oh my god no—”

“Babe, answer it!” Sukuna grinned, already stretching his long arm to grab your laptop. “I need to see what they’re about to say.”

“Sukuna, I’m literally not ready for this shit—”

“You’re literally adorable, babe. Don’t worry!” Sukuna smirked, already clicking Accept. “Let me enjoy my W.”

The call connected. Chaos immediately erupted.

Gojo Satoru (Camera OFF): “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Geto Suguru (Camera ON):

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Nanami Kento (Camera ON):

“…Are you all seriously screaming?”

Itadori Yuuji (Camera ON):

“BROOOOOO THEY WENT SO HARD IN THAT INTERVIEW OH MY GODDDD!”

Fushiguro Megumi (Camera ON, Visibly Unamused):

“…I’m logging off.”

Gojo Satoru (Camera ON, Appearing Out of Nowhere):

“NO YOU’RE NOT, MEGUMI— OH MY GOD YOU TWO WERE INSANE.”

You immediately face planted onto the table, groaning. “Kill me. Just kill me now.”

“Babe, why? You were really cool!” Sukuna laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “This is literally my proudest moment.”

“Oh my god, this is just so—” You groaned.

“Bro. Bro, oh my god.” Itadori was crying. “Sukuna. The way you said ‘Her love. You guys heard that, right?’ I— I fell off my couch cheesing, bro. You haven’t changed!”

“RIGHT?!” Gojo practically screeched. “And then he was going like ‘I’ll get you employee of the month, babe.’ I almost died! This was so—I can’t even explain it!”

Sukuna was thriving. His grin stretched wide, his canines flashing. “Ayyyeeee, you finally got it Gojo! You got someone, so you understand right? You see how I held her down? Boyfriend of the year.”

“You really are, bro!”

“My love, stoppppp!” you wailed dramatically.

“Nah, babe. Let me cook from boyfriend to husband!”

“Okay but REAL TALK. [Your Name]. Explain to me why your head researcher just casually let you off work because his daughter’s a fan of Sukuna.Also, how the hell are there fans of Sukuna?” Geto Suguru says as he munches on his popcorn.

“Taking offense to that last part, Geto.”

“Hahaha, I don’t care!”

You groaned harder. “I really don’t know. But it worked. I mean, people are asking me for Sukuna’s autographs for their kids at the research facility.”

“No, cause that’s wild, actually.” Suguru laughed. “Your literal superior was like, ‘Get me his autograph and you can skip work.’ That’s insane. I wish I could do that.”

“Well you could had you gone to the same research dept as me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna work there. Your deadlines are crazy.”

“Hey, my influence is really good for her right now!” Sukuna grinned, leaning into you smugly. “I’m basically her office’s MVP. They should name a telescope after me, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s not what I'm working on right now! That’s the other team!”

“Eh, same thing.”

“The Ryomen Sukuna Space Observatory, nice ring to it.” Gojo said dreamily. “Iconic.”

“Guys, really.”

“I would like to formally request to be excluded from this narrative.” Nanami Kento deadpans as he puts away his paperwork.

“Oh shut up, Kento. Are you still acting tsundere after all this time?” Gojo cackled. “You enjoyed it.”

“No. I did not.”

“Then why’d you text me ‘how did Sukuna–san improve in comedy? he’s hilarious.’ right after it aired?”

Nanami froze. “I did not do that—”

“YOU DID TOO!” Itadori gasped loudly. “I saw the receipts, senpai. You can’t just lie about that!”

“Lies.”

“Don’t deny it!”

“I will deny it, there’s no proof.”

“…Sukuna–senpai, I have to say, you being in love still after all this time really made me cringe.”

Gojo Satoru lost it. He almost fell off his chair, laughing. “That’s so—what the, that’s so—”

“See? People do cringe when you go lovey-dovey!” You tease him, and then laugh as you lean against him. 

“Wow, didn’t know that’s your true feelings about me, babe.” Sukuna scoffed, faking offense as he playfully rolled his eyes. “No love for the Olympic boyfriend, huh?”

“You sounded like a sickeningly in love golden retriever, and it was disturbing.”

Sukuna snorted. “If I still had the privilege to order you one hundred laps, I would.”

“Hm, but you don’t.”

“All because you’re jealous. How’s your date yesterday? Bad like last time?”

Megumi recoiled like he’d been shot. “Senpai, that’s so—”

“Nahhh, I get it, Megs. Cause I’d be mad too if I was third-wheeling greatness like this, while I’m waiting on Cupid to give me luck.” Sukuna gestured grandly to you and himself. “It’s hard out here.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t be mad, bro. Just manifest your own [Your Name].”

“I swear to god, senpai.”

“Again, manifest. Hell, I’ll even help you. My sister’s into you—”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay but can we talk about how senpai just easily offers the autograph AND the video like it's nothing?” Yuuji enthusiastically says, smiling from ear to ear.

“REAL! Like, this is so crazy. ” Gojo gasped. “He just casually said ‘I’ll make your boss look like a hero, babe.’”

“Bro is so down bad, man.” Geto snickers, drinking his beer. “Everyone’s losing their shit everywhere.”

“And then he was like, ‘yeah don’t worry, I’ll help sign your paperwork.’’” Yuuji grows louder, more enthusiastic than before. “I can’t believe people are seeing it more closely like this. You’re a lucky lady, senpai!”

“Yeah, who can say they have such a long loving thriving relationship, no?” Gojo teases, as he leans on the screen. “LIke, people are jealous!”

“Guys, please!” you howled, your head hitting the table as your face turned scarlet. “PLEASE STOP—”

“SU-KU-NAAAAA–SENPAIIIIII!” Yuuji screamed, clapping. “You’re built differently, man. This is why you’re not bitchless!”

“This is why you follow in my footsteps, Itadori.” Sukuna laughs proudly. “You will only end your suffering if you follow me. That goes for you, Nanami, Fushiguro.”

“No thanks.” Nanami and Fushiguro say, almost at the same time.

“Nah, cause now that I think about it….my girl’s gonna expect me to do well too, Sukuna.” Gojo says, rubbing his chin. “That’s such a cruel move, Sukuna!”

“Hey, I love my girl as easily as breathing.” Sukuna raises his beer can, like cheers. He grins. “Good luck. I’m here if you need tips.”

“…The fact that this interview is already at 4 million views is baffling.” Nanami whispers as he looks at his phone. “It was just released an hour ago.”

Your head snapped up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh yeah, it’s viral now.” Megumi deadpanned. “It’s already trending. Twitter’s obsessed with you two.”

“Yup, yup.” Itadori confirmed. “Hashtag ‘Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF’ is number one right now.”

“YOU’RE LYING.”

“Dead serious.”

“My love.” you whirled on him, horrified. “What did you do?”

Sukuna, entirely unbothered: “Won.”

“Bro, people are literally shipping you two like it’s a Netflix rom-com.” Gojo snickers, sighing. “I want mine to be like that.”

“Right?” Suguru agreed. “And they’re already calling you ‘The only loverboy to ever loverboy’ which is kinda crazy to say about Ryomen Sukuna.”

Yuuji sighed. “But it fits, don’t you think? He loves his girl.”

Sukuna beamed. “As they should.”

You were spiraling. “I can’t go back to work like this. They’re gonna tease me—”

“No, babe, you’re good.” Sukuna said smugly. “You literally got immunity. They’re too obsessed with me now.”

“OH MY GODDDD.”

“…So when exactly did you two sign up for a publicized rom-com?” Nanami asks.

“Bro, right?” Gojo laughed. “Next thing you know Sukuna’s proposing on live TV after winning gold.”

Sukuna gasped dramatically. “Wait. That’s fire, actually.”

“Hey, don’t you dare!” you screamed.

“Imagine it, though!” Gojo egged on. “He wins gold. Camera zooms in. Sukuna pulls you onto the court. Boom. Proposal.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Gojo Satoru!”

Geto cackles. “Nah, once you give Sukuna ideas and he likes it, he’s not gonna change his mind.”

“Write that down, bro!” Itadori gasped.

“Oh, I will!” Sukuna grinned.

“Ryomen Sukuna, I swear to god—”

“Hey, hey, slow down. That’s not my name.”

“I’m not stopping until you say you won’t do that.”

“Here me out, let me cook on this idea, like this is a really good idea. Come on!”

“No!”

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | lava girl!reader, prohero!reader

The moment Pro Hero Dynamight lands on the scene, he knows something’s very wrong. Not only because of the amount of chaos around but also because fuckin’ Deku is down. Literally, face down, whole body trembling in pain due to the beating he just received, and fuck, that’s not a scene Bakugou encounters often.

Dynamight runs towards his hero partner, hand immediately landing on Deku’s back. Yes, he’s breathing, heart beats gallop in his chest –he is alive. Deku moves, raising his head when he feels Bakugou’s touch. The blond sighs relieved.

“Deku… What the fuck happened?!” 

“The villain’s… quirk…” Deku coughs in between words.

He doesn’t have a chance to completely warn Katsuki before an explosion makes them both fly apart. Dynamight swears loudly, barely holding his stance as the blast pulls him away. When the smoke subsides, he opens his eyes and they widen when right in front of him he sees himself.

A carbon copy of Pro Hero Dynamight comes walking, smiling smugly and evil as his cannon shows the residues of the blast.

“THE FUCK??!!” The real Pro Hero exclaims, completely gobsmacked. And angry. How they fucking dare to copy him?? A villain above all!!

“Kacchan… His quirk copies a person and their quirk! Look out!” 

As Deku yells in his way, Bakugou has to dodge another blast, this time intended completely at him. He hisses as his left elbow caught a bit of the fire. Fuck. This villain even copied the amount of power? By the burning pain in his elbow, Bakughou checks off that as a yes.

He shakes the pain off his brain, standing ready this time for another blow from himself. He’s fucking ready to beat some ass –well, kinda like his own ass.

But as again the smoke dissipates, this time is not himself who Katsuki encounters but you.

It's you.

You stand a few meters away in your hero costume. Dynamight frowns, “Y/H/N?? What the hell are you doing here?!” He intends to walk closer to you, but the evil smirk that appears on your face is so out of your character –especially directed towards him– and Deku’s yell again makes Katsuki stop dead in his tracks.

“NO! It’s not her! It’s the villain!”

A bone-chilling laugh leaves your mouth that makes everyone in the scene freeze in worry as lava strings start falling from your hands, and Dynamight gulps. Holy fuck.

For the first time in his career as a pro hero, Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t fucking know what to do. Fuck, he knows the person in front of him is not you but the villain. Yet… SHIT! FUCK! He can’t fucking fire against his wife! He could fight against anyone… Damn it, even if it was Deku or Kirishima or anyone, he could do it. He knows is the villain. But you?? Hell fucking NO.

So, Bakugou ends up doing what he never does, no matter how beaten up he gets. But this is a fuking emergency. 

“I need backup. NOW!” Dynamight barks through his hearing aid, and the whole agency hears loud and clear as everyone moves towards the scene.

In the meantime, Bakugou avoids every whip of lava the villain in the form of your persona throws at him. He dodges smartly –thanking every possible existing god that you bugged him enough into training with you similar to this a while ago; if not, he doubts he would be this agile against this fucking attack. With every attack, he moves further away from where Deku is –alongside some civilians, ‘cause those noisy ass fuckers are always in the way trying to take a damn picture!– and closer to the river. He needs to find a way to get the villain to make some contact with the water. If this piece of shit villain has your quirk now, it would only take a bit of water and they are fucking out.

Dynamight fails to dodge a particular whip that catches his shoulder, making him groan in pain as he falls to his knees.

“You��re pretty stupid if you think I haven’t realized what you’re trying to do,” you laugh mockingly, your lava whips stopping for a moment. “I thought you were smarter than that… baby.”

The way the villain says the nickname in your voice makes Katsuki want to vomit. It’s so… disturbing and ugly. He will definitely have nightmares after this.

Fuck! What the hell does he do now?! He can’t– FUCKING HELL! He feels dizzy, the sole image of you makes him want to puke, because he can’t. He can’t shoot you. It doesn’t matter that it’s a villain, it’s the perfect image of you, his beautiful and loving wife, in front of him. He will cut his own damn hands if he ever has to shoot against any form of you. He can’t– He CAN’T– HE FUCKING CAN’T–

As the villain laughs at his pathetic turmoil and a whip of lava stands high in the air ready to be sent at his kneeling form on the floor and probably cut him in two with the burn, a roar comes from under the ground. 

It’s an intimidating deep sound that makes everything tremble. The sound it’s so profound and raucous, filled with rage and determination that Katsuki feels it in his chest.

The ground between him and the villain starts to collapse, a burning heat and lava coming from down there that makes the villain retreat several meters when a wave of lava lunges against them.

And right there, from the middle, you emerge. 

Katsuki shakes his head suddenly realizing what is going on. Shit, it’s some sort of trance.

“You fucking dare hurt my husband with my own quirk?!” You growl, completely blinded by rage at well– yourself.

Pro Hero Dynamight snorts astonished, his heart beating fast and so fucking in love with you. Fuck, he loves it when you defend him, and he will never get tired of witnessing such a majestic view. Lava dancing around you at your disposal and own will, whole body glowing in red heat that chills his bones at how demonic you look. Fucking beautiful. Beautifully perfect. All his.

You lunge again against the villain, this time yourself included with the lava wave; but as you’re about to approach them, the villain changes form again and it’s Katsuki in front of you. It makes you hesitate in your attack as you stop right on time in front of the villain.

The real Katsuki opens his eyes wide as he finally understands.

The villain probably takes the form of one’s loved one to weaken them, not only attacking with their same quirk, but also sinking their mind into a state of submission that prohibits any counterattack. Shit, that’s a fuckin’ powerful villain. But it is just that. A copy. And it’ll never understand each quirk as the owners themselves. Still though, the use of the quirks are pretty lethal, real. Damn it.

“FUCK, NO!” He screams as the villain in Katsuki’s form smirks evilly, less than a meter in front of you, and his canon fires against you.

Howitzer Impact.

The blast flies you away, completely unexpected and unable to control your own body in your flight. And Katsuki is right there to catch you.

The villain cackles wildly, the smoke around blinding him from the real heroes. He looks so satisfied he could land an attack like that, and to none other than Dynamight’s wife. “How’s wifey, Dynamight? She survived? How would like the titles on the news, mh? ‘Dynamight kills his own wife’ or ‘Poor Dynamight couldn’t save his wife’?” He taunts, the smoke clearing the view of the real Bakugou, one knee on the floor and the other flexed as his entire body covers yours in protection.

He’s looking at you, the blast made your lava retreat completely even from your body as you look now in your normal and delicate human form, the fire has burned your face, right from under your left eye down to the neck. When you flutter your eyes open, you encounter the hateful look he has written all over his face as his eyes roar only one word: KILL.

When Pro Hero Dynamight turns to look at the villain, Deku –who finally got closer to the scene with Pro Hero Shoto holding him up with an arm around his shoulder– swears under his breath. He knows that look.

The villain in Dynamight’s form takes a step back when the real hero stands up slowly, a crazed look in his face as he turns.

“Now, this is fuckin’ personal…”

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

‎

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“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

[literatooru]

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

pairing: villain f!reader x pro-hero bakugo katsuki warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI), mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, he calls reader brat, sort of public sex but there's really no one around lol

Bakugō Katsuki, most commonly known as pro-hero Dynamight. If you haven’t heard his name, it means you’ve probably been living under a rock. He’s one of the most famous heroes, loved —and hated— by many. Nobody knows just how many cell’s he’s filled with villains (except him, he keeps count of them… you know, just to prove he’s the best—, and he’s never failed to catch anyone he’s in pursuit of. That is, until you came around.

It’s not that Katsuki hasn’t caught you. In fact, he has. Multiple times, actually, which makes it even more ironic. It’s something he could never forgive himself for — but he’d hate himself even more if he gave you away. Sometimes, the simple thought of you is the only thing that gets him through the day.

And, once again, here you are after successfully robbing a jewelry store, you flee the scene with a bag full of shiny, gorgeous goods, easily dodging the local cops chasing you. Losing them is not difficult — you’ve done it on countless occasions, you know the way they think. You let out a gleeful laugh as you run, exhilaration fueling your body as you dart into the alleyway. That is, until you’re yanked by the arm and slammed against the wall. 

A groan escapes you when the impact almost knocks the air out of you, your right hand flying up to curl your fingers around your attacker’s wrist. And you recognize him before you even actually see him, because you’ve been in that exact position before, albeit in different circumstances.

“I know I usually like it rough, Kats, but you should hold back a little,” you chuckle, wincing when his fingers flex around your throat.

“I don’t believe it,” he growls, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath when he finally lets go, rubbing your sore neck.

“Sorry, I meant Dynamight. My bad.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think it’s quite obvious.” You give the bag still clutched in your grip a shake, the jewels inside jingle. The sound alone makes his scowl deepen.

He forces himself to take a step back before your scent takes over his senses. Every single muscle in his body is tense, and you notice a vein pop out on his temple when he huffs in annoyance.

“I thought I told you last time would be the last time,” he mutters, glancing furtively around before pulling you even deeper into the alleyway after making sure there’s no one around.

“Yeah, you also said it the time before that. And, like, a week before that. And—” you break off, your face mere inches apart from his. You can feel his hot breath fanning your cheek as he glowers at you, his hand fisting the collar of your shirt.

“Listen here, brat. Drop the attitude or I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

You smirk, your eyes falling on his lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Kats.”

He steps forward until you’re against the wall once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he warns.

You pop your lips and trace them with the tip of your tongue. Bakugo follows the motion, eyes hazy.

“Really?” you ask, brushing your lips against his. You can hear him gulp, his grip faltering a little. “It would put an end to our fun little game. I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

And you’re right — he’s not. He fucking hates how addicted to you he’s become. There’s not a single day he doesn’t think about you; the way your lips devour his, your taste on his tongue, the sweet sounds you let out reverberating inside his skull for days on end. No, he’s not ready to let you go just yet, and if the smile on your face is any indicator, you’re unfortunately aware of it. He dreams of you, lives waiting for the day he’ll see you again — get to fuck you again. What he had told himself was a one time thing turned out to become one of his biggest problems, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Oh, bite me,” he spits out.

You chuckle with a mischievous glint in your eyes that makes his entire body tingle with anticipation. He knows that means danger, but the way you cloud his senses always make him just a teeny tiny slower than usual, and that’s enough for you.

“If you insist.”

And your lips are on his. His grip on your shirt loosens completely and it is frankly embarrassing how quick he is to reciprocate, almost like it’s the one thing he wished for and has been waiting for it to happen his entire life. He cages you between his arms, pressing his body flush against yours — Katsuki wants to feel every part of you against him, wants you all to himself. He’s planning to let out all of his frustrations on you tonight, and it’s not like you mind.

His lips trace your jaw with unusual kindness, nipping gently on the skin and exploring the area almost as if he's doing it for the first time. When he lowers his head to kiss your neck, he inhales deeply, and his mind becomes fuzzy and he feels as though he’s been drugged. You’re intoxicating.

He cups your jaw to hold your head in place, attacking your neck with his teeth, his actions growing rougher with each passing second.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you breathe out, pulling on his hair to meet his lips again in another kiss. It’s careless and messy, just how it’s always been with him.

You hook your fingers in the waist of his pants to pull his hips closer to you, his growing erection pressing against you. The light friction makes him groan softly against your skin, wide hands traveling down to grope your breasts over your shirt. You slide a hand under the elastic of his pants and wrap your fingers around him. Bakugo hisses. Your hands are a little cold, but it feels good. He’s grateful that it’s so dark, because then you won’t notice how flushed his face actually is. All he can think about is tearing your clothes off and burying himself so deep inside you, he doesn't know where he ends and you start.

You stroke him slowly, thumbing his cockhead to smear the pre-cum along his shaft, twisting your wrist as you tighten your grip around him. Bakugo’s hips automatically thrust into your touch, soft groans and pants hitting your collarbone. You’re having the time of your life. Big pro hero Dynamight, completely at your mercy. The thought of leaving him like that, needy, wanting and desperate for your touch crosses your mind, but you ultimately decide against it. That’d be going too far, and he’d probably blow you up for it.

“Ngh, you damn tease,” he growls. “Faster.”

And you comply.

You can feel your underwear dampening against your skin. It’s uncomfortable, and squeezing your thighs together is accomplishing nothing. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to find anything to replace it, and nothing can quite fulfill your needs the way Bakugo does.

As if reading your mind, he pulls your leggings down —you decidedly choose to ignore the sound of fabric ripping, only hoping the damage isn’t bad enough to have you walking back to your place in your underwear—, hastily sliding your panties down your legs and sliding his entire hand between your folds to lubricate his fingers before sinking them inside your sopping cunt.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” he says, feeling everything with his digits. Your lips part open, and your moan is swallowed by his hungry lips. “Dirty girl. Turns you on, doesn’t it? Knowing we could get caught at any moment.” And the way you clench around his fingers only confirms what he already knows. “Oh, you do. You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“Not any more than you do,” you say with a breathy chuckle, tugging on his blond locks. “Think I didn’t notice? I bet you almost came in your pants just by thinking of it. Like a damn hormonal teenager.”

His free hand goes up to curl his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly, and his cock throbs in your hand. It’s not the general scenario that has him in that state — it’s you. You, with your pretty lips, and your nice hair, and your fluttery lashes. You, the one person that has doomed him to an oddly specific failure.

“I’m going to make you eat your words.”

You’re about to reply, instead letting out a loud moan when he curls his fingers, rubbing that spongey spot inside you, and he has you squirming in no time. He spreads your legs open, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing you with the tip of his cock until you’re begging him to put it in.

“So impatient,” he says, pushing his hips forward. You can feel every single inch of him sliding in, both of you groaning when he bottoms out. He stays still for a moment, but it’s more for him than it is for you, although he doesn’t let it show. He refuses to prove you right by cumming in record time. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and he pulls out ever so slowly, choking out a moan with the way you’re clamping down on him, trying to suck him right back in. “Oh, fuck.”

“Katsuki,” you mewl in his ear, and he curses under his breath again, his cock twitching inside you. You gasp when he plunges back inside you, setting a ruthless pace that has you clawing at his back and crying out his name. The wet sound of your pussy sucking him in and the slapping of skin on skin is so loud that you wonder how no one’s found you out. “Shit, Kats!”

Your sweet, sweet moans fill his ears, and he does everything in his power to keep hearing them. His hands touch and apply pressure on all the right places, choking you, fondling your breasts, tweaking your nipples — his mouth bites, licks and sucks on your skin, marking it. He just can’t get enough of you. He considers to know your body well enough, but he can’t help but wish he had time to discover even more.

The way you gasp his name and tug on his hair tells him you’re close, and he is too. All it takes is a couple more thrusts before you’re crying out in ecstasy and creaming around his cock, everything growing wetter, louder and messier. Your spasming walls are what drive him over the edge, and he shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside you, painting your insides white. He rides it out with a series of grunts and moans escaping his lips, a thin layer of sweat making his body glisten under the moonlight.

Bakugo pulls out, struggling to catch his breath. He blinks a couple times to clear his head (an impossible task when you're looking utterly fucked out and breathtaking right in front of him, all thanks to his doing), sharpening his vision as his gaze falls on your thighs, his cum slowly dripping down them. He lets out a low chuckle, snatching your chin to make you look him in the eyes.

“You ungrateful little brat. You’re not supposed to waste it,” he whispers against your lips, a menacing smirk on his lips. His scarlet eyes darken, pupils dilated. “Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again.”

Bakugo takes a long, good look at you. There you are, the one villain he’s never been able to throw in jail, and most likely never will, because that’d mean letting you. You’re the one who floods his brain, invades his dreams and owns his body, because, like the thief you are, you’ve stolen everything — from his sanity to his heart.

[sp4ceboo]

a/n: ok so. alpha deku. this was specifically inspired by this art here and here because. what the fuck man. this gave me severe brain rot. absolutely delicious artwork, belongs in museum.

tw: 18+, smutty, afab omega reader, a/b/o, alpha deku goes into rut, breeding kink (it's a/b/o, what were we expecting)

wc: 1.2k

Everyone knows when your alpha is close to his rut.

Since Izuku has risen on the hero rankings, ‘everyone’ has become anyone who happens to be watching the news that week. Citizens, villains, news reporters, hell, even his mother - they all know. It would be hard to not notice, not with the pheromones that practically ooze off him, and especially not with the way he acts.

Normally, the villains are the first to know. You always patrol with Izuku (he insisted it be that way, but you wouldn’t have been paired with anyone else with how obvious it is that the two of you work best together), and usually, you’ll divide and conquer any minor villains with ease. You’re ridiculously attuned to each other, able to communicate in battle just as well with your eyes as with your words, and it makes it pretty hard to mount a defense against.

All of that flies straight out of the window the moment his pre-rut hits; the hormones give him an extra edge, a strength derived from something primal, and his hindbrain takes control. Your mate is a force to be reckoned with already, but in pre-rut, he’s unstoppable.

You’re aware that he knows you’re perfectly capable of holding your own, but once his instincts take over, there’s no stopping him. He’ll break a villain’s hand if they come too close to you, flashing his canines and snarling keep away from my omega while he pumps out a ridiculous amount of pheromones. By then, they’re already running: it’s no secret that his threats aren’t empty when it comes to you.

The reporters are the next to find out, and you hope that the ones that get sent to interview you and Izuku while he’s in pre-rut get paid extra, because he’s impossible; once he’s sure the villains are successfully detained, he’ll latch onto you, curling an arm about your waist and wrapping himself around you from behind.

It’s worth acknowledging that Izuku is big, even by alpha standards. He’s fucking huge, broad shoulders and massive thighs, still bristling from the fight, and he dwarfs your frame entirely when he crowds into you the way he does. You’ve seen fan-made compilations, clips of him draped over you, nose buried in your hair as you answer reporters’ questions, captioned with things like ‘proof pro-hero Deku can’t get enough of his mate, if you hadn’t noticed already’.

You always politely smile for the cameras, but he has no patience for them. He never speaks during those interviews, instead drowning his restlessness in the familiarity of your scent, growling if anyone comes too close and only letting up once they retreat.

At that point, you already reek of him - well, more than you usually do - and when you feel that you’ve shown face enough, you excuse yourself. No one can refuse you, not when you have a more than just sizeable alpha hanging off your shoulders, glaring at anyone who might dare to object.

On the way home, you’ve made a habit of filing your request for leave from work (that is, if your manager hasn’t seen the news and already granted it). You’ve never been refused leave, but that doesn’t surprise you. The risk of having pro-hero Deku off patrol is nothing compared to having him half crazy, half feral and fully grumpy, supposedly watching over the city while in reality all he does is want after his omega.

Reliably, you’ll barely have gotten through the doorway of your home, struggling to close the door behind you, when he finally lets loose.

He’ll be all over you, hands tugging at your clothes while he laps at your scent glands, almost drooling as he breathes in your pheromones. Rut reduces your alpha to nothing but a mess. You won’t even be more than a metre into your house, and he’ll be grinding against you, fondling you, groaning in your ears and telling you sinful things: that you smell so fucking good, that he can’t wait to be deep in your sweet omega pussy.

They’re always dirty, the things he mumbles in your ears, but it always circles back to the same thing - I protected you so well, didn’t I, omega? I kept you safe, right? - and you nod every time, kissing him sweetly - yes alpha, of course you did - and tilting your head back to give him access to your throat, a display of trust, because that’s what he needs to hear. That’s what has his cock throbbing against your hip, achingly hard.

It’s what sets that part of him ablaze, just like you burn whenever he tells you that you’re such a good, pretty omega for him and that you take him so well while he fucks you through your heat. Yes, Izuku understands you can protect yourself, but he needs to know that he’s a good alpha to you, that he takes care of his mate and keeps you happy and safe and content.

The moment he hears that, he won’t stop until you're knotted and pumped full of his come.

He’ll take you against the first flat surface that presents itself (usually the wall of your foyer), slipping in easily because your body responds to him even before you’ve smelt his exquisite pheromones, your pussy all slicked up and fluttering for him. He won’t stop for days after that, ruining you on his cock over and over again, eyes rolling back in his head as he slurs about how he’s going to give you his pups, and though you know it won’t take because of your medication, sometimes you wish it would.

Right now, you lie on his warm chest, tracing the constellations of his freckles with your fingertips. Today his rut started no different from how it normally does, and he’s purring softly in his sleep beneath you, his warm palms splayed wide over your back; you smile at the occasional snore that leaves him. Your mate has been busy recently. You’re not surprised that he knocked out so quickly.

He’s fucked his knot into you already, and from where it sits snugly inside you, you can feel it slowly coming down. You don’t bother to lift yourself off him though - he’s far from done, and besides, he’ll just ease it right back into you the moment he wakes up.

You’ve heard people comment on how your Izuku is pretty high maintenance during his rut, that he should take suppressants to give you a break, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He stirs, and you watch his green lashes dip as he blinks his way back to consciousness; gently, he catches your fingers, his palm calloused against your skin, and lifts your hand to his mouth to press kisses your knuckles. Your lips curl up at the sight of him, unruly hair mussed, glowing in that way he does during his rut, and sleepy eyed, he smiles back.

Already, you can feel him stiffening inside of you, his body getting ready for another round. He cups your face in his hands, fitting his lips to yours, and you find yourself grinning into his kisses.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn't have it any other way.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

LOVE LEFT ME LIKE THIS AND I DONT WANT TO EXIST

katsuki bakugou x reader

katsuki, japan’s number 1 hero, discovers his fiancé’s dark past and questions everything.

themes of abuse and violence. please read with discretion 🤍

part 1/2

inspired by florida!!!

all you had to do was beat the charges.

first, the body. he’d laid there, mouth foaming and blood pouring from his neck. you had checked his pulse. the deed had been done. standing over him, your eyes wandered to any means of disposal. ultimately, you decided to let them discover it.

second, the evidence. you made sure to use gloves and specifically used his favourite rocks glass, the one he’d drink out of before heading to see you. you’d leave it on the coffee table next to the couch where he currently laid. maybe they’d believe this was his doing, if luck was on your side. you’d write a suicide note on his behalf- you hadn’t thrown our those gloves yet, anyway.

third, the getaway. because you weren’t going to let them drag you away with his body in a bag. the weight of what you had done would do nothing but shackle you down. yes, you’re haunted, but right now you had to act just fine. your heart was tied up with laces and crimes.

and your cheating, abusive, husband seemingly died out of nowhere, supposedly committing suicide on his own accord while his young marital partner disappeared? well, no one asks any questions where you’re headed now.

you did your best to lay it to rest. meanwhile, japan mourned the loss of a seemingly good and innocent pro hero, to whom you now widowed.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

3 years later.

most of your life had been running and hiding. the thought of settling down anywhere, in a city where you were nothing but a mere guest in. you didn’t trust trust, you didn’t trust happiness. all until meeting katsuki one day.

the thought of ever loving a despicable, power-hungry pro hero set off sirens in your head. but there was some allure about katsuki that made you forget the shadows of your past.

little do you know, he fell for you first and he fell harder. it was impossible not to be enamoured with him- a gorgeous, 6 foot tall blonde with a cocky attitude and fierce determination. who you, at first, wrote off to be a shallow douchebag, but who turned out to be the sweetest, most chivalrous gentleman you had ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

perhaps your favourite thing about him were his dreams. the things that drove him to be better. his determination to be a good hero, to be the symbol of peace like the ones who came before him. theres a certain light in his crimson eyes that you can’t miss. he shines bright in this light, dazzling your heart and daring you to love him.

so, after just 2 years of dating, you and katsuki are now engaged and living together. the public knows of you, with both adoring and jealous fans by your side.

it gave you this rush. loving him was passionate as sin. every time you’re with him is one hell of a time, even if its something simple as watching a shitty movie together or folding laundry after work. only occasionally, you’d look over your shoulder, making sure no one was following you.

right now, he’s in the kitchen with you. you’re seated on the counter while he cooks, letting you taste-test everything. the glint of your engagement ring looks stunning in this light. katsuki’s happy to be the first person you’ve been married to. at least, he’s happy believing that.

though, somethings different about him this time. he’s quieter, his mind ruminating on something.

he looks at you, the love of his life, seated on the counter wearing his clothes, and wonders how you could be capable of lying to him.

he sighs, putting down whatever he’s doing. he wants to know the truth.

“babe.” he starts, not fully facing you. your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. “yeah?”

he walks over to you, looking you in the eye with his beautiful red eyes. you could sink in them.

“i’m the first man you’ve ever committed to.. right?”

he asks, though it’s something you’ve told him time and time again. previously, he’s wanted to know for some insecure reasons. you’re his one and only, and in the past, he’s just wanted to know you’re on the same page. it’s something you’ve told him everyday.

“yeah.” you smile, hiding behind that facade. “why do you ask?”

he takes a step closer, looking at you. his eyes are pleading, because he wants you to tell him otherwise. please, tell him that what he’s heard isn’t true.

“i wanted to see if you’d lie to me.”

your heart drops.

“what… what are you talking about?” you almost laugh, nervously. that anxiety creeps up your throat. its pathetic the way you thought you could even keep this up.

he sighs, running a hand through his ashy blonde hair in stress. it was wishful thinking, believing that he, a pro hero charged with investigating and bringing justice, would never find out about your crime. for a moment there, it felt good. like you were really gonna get away with it.

he walks past you, rummaging around in his bag before putting the files on the counter next to you. evidence. the man you had taken out, and links that suggested you had done it. your hands shake, seeing how its all stacked against you. looking him in the eye was out of the question.

truthfully, he isn’t sure who he’s looking at. he knows he loves you, but love has never before made him question everything like you’re doing to him. he sighs before continuing.

“kirishima showed me everything.” he says. “he and his team were investigating this case in a city nearby here. i didn’t think much of it until he told me you married the guy, and left right after he was pronounced dead.”

he looks at you, into the face of the person he loves more than anything. he’s begging you to say no. he’s begging you to be innocent.

“did you do it?”

you swallow hard, eyes darkening as you think of your options. was it worth it to lie anymore.

please say no. he thinks. please tell me it isn’t true.

“…i did what i had do.” you whisper, finally confessing.

and his worst fears are confirmed.

his heart sinks, furious as he looks at you. he’s trying to discern if this is the person he knows, if this is the person he loves. his voice is shaky, hands trembling with unbridled rage he tries to keep under control.

“why.” he says, not a question but a command, like venom. you almost flinch at his tone, though you can’t say you blame him. he person he’s set on marrying hid something so huge from him for years.

“its not what you think.” you insist, truthfully not knowing where to start. you cringe at the way your voice cracks when you speak.

his eyes narrow looking at you. “then what is it? you committed a heinous fucking crime and i’m suppose to think its for a good reason?”

god, if katsuki knew half of how hard you life had been. he had a hunch you were going to lie to him again, and it only made him angrier. “tell me the truth. i wanna know-“

“i had a husband before you.” you cut him off. he decidedly holds his tongue, surmising that he’s finally getting the truth from you. so, he waits. impatiently patient.

“i was young, and i had just run away from home.” you explain, the memories of your past crawling back up your throat. “my father was a creepy, rape-y bastard. couldn’t last another second in that house.” you say.

his heart aches at that. he had some idea that your childhood was less than ideal, but the thought your own father did that to you was more than he could bare. though he’s angry, he knows you didn’t deserve it. “i’m so sorry.”

you simply nod, praying for mercy as you continue. “so… i ran away. there weren’t a lot of people who could help me, or who could bring me in. i stayed on the streets most nights.” you sigh, wishing you could run into katsuki’s embrace. on other day, he’d gladly shield you away from all this hurt.

“and then… i met this guy. a hero, believe it or not.” you chuckle bitterly, much to your fiance’s chagrin. the thought that the bastard who did this to being someone like him made him sick.

“he got me a job, and helped me get back on my feet. i fell in love, as stupid and naive as that sounds.” you say. “…and when he asked to marry me, he said it’d only be on paper. that it’d just be so i could have shelter, food and water. i felt like he saved me.”

katsuki nods, still trying to process all of this. “but he didn’t save you… did he?”

you shake your head.

“turns out i married my father.” you say, darkly. he bites his lip, suspicious confirmed. those abused as children are more likely to move on with someone else abusive, after all. its sad cycle that he wishes he could remove you from. though it seems you had your own way of doing that.

“i was gonna die in that house.” you whisper, voice cracking at the seems. “so…”

you can’t even finish your sentence.

he isn’t an idiot. he can connect the dots. but even though the climactic end of your sentence is obvious, he still can’t quite wrap his head around it. he still loves you, though he’s mad as hell you kept this from him.

“i laced his whiskey and watched as it killed him. after, i… i packed my things and left town. took his money, too.”

his silence is killing you. you wish he’d say something, that its okay- though its not. that he still loves you- though he shouldn’t.

you speak again, maybe trying to fix this mess. “i know its wrong. i know its fucked up. i shouldn’t have.”

he lets out another breath, eyes noticing the way your hands shake. those hands, the ones he’d hold in his own, had blood on them.

“and why didn’t you think to tell anyone? no heroes, no police?” he has the nerve to ask, though its a valid question.

you snap, tension breaking as you push yourself ofd the counter and away to face him. “because i don’t TRUST you fuckers!” you cry, yelling while tears spill from your eyes.

silence.

bakugou stared right back into your eyes as you said that, and his expression immediately hardened again. he was angry all over again. for one, he already knew you didn't exactly trust heroes, albeit except for him. but this just hurt him. he knew that he himself was a hero and would protect you with his life.

so why couldn't you see that?

“i’m going to give you one more chance to re-think what you just said.”

but you stand your ground. “no.” you say, shaking your head. “i was abused for years and no one heard my case. i was dismissed and shunned for years until finally, i ran away. and when i did, i was stupid enough to trust again. to trust one of you power-hungry assholes! and how did that end!? with me being scared to come home everyday! with my husband using me like a god damn punching bag!”

his expression immediately drops at your words. hearing what you went through as a kid hit him like a truck. but, on the other hand, he was still so angry. he wanted to tell you that not all heroes are like that, that he wasn't like that.. but the anger was overpowering both his thoughts and his feelings as he listened. he wants to tell you that it’ll never happen again, but his emotions slip it before he can say that.

“and because of what happened with him, you think we're all like that?!” he roars back.

“its different for you and me.” you say, tears refusing to subside. “every-time i’ve let my guard down i’ve been beaten. nothing good comes from trusting.”

so, he wonders if you ever really trusted him. why agree to marry him if you supposedly didn’t believe in trust, or in love? he feels his whole world begin to crumble around him.

he can see now, putting those signs together. your hesitancy when you first met. your trust issues, your reluctance to speak on your past. it all made sense now, and he hated it.

“thats why you were so hesitant to let me in, huh?” he asks, looking at the ground. he’s struggling to keep calm, between his anger towards the monsters of your past and a little towards you.

“you thought i’d be like him?” he asks, and that question physically hurts your heart.

“no! i love you!” your voice cracks like its a lie. both of you notice that.

suddenly, i love you was like the worst thing he’s ever heard.

“and its worse because i’m a hero too, huh?” he asks. but you can’t answer that. instead, you opt to look down, letting your tears soak into your clothes.

“thats not what i thought.” you say, though you aren’t exactly sure who you’re convincing. “i promise, i know you’re different.”

and he is different. katsuki bakugou was nothing like the demons you had fought in your past. he was bright, and warm, and his love felt like home. more specifically, a home that was about to be torn down.

“then why didn’t you tell me, huh? why keep this from me for years?” he asks, still wanting answers.

to this, you almost scoff. it should be obvious. “how do i tell my boyfriend, who is the #1 hero in the country, the pillar of justice and peace, that i murdered someone? that my own hands took someone else life!?”

god, he’s livid. he can’t even look at you, though he admits he kind of understands why you hid it. he believed you were an angel.

“..and you have the nerve to think i’d stop loving you over it!?”

“YES!”

that answer made his anger hit a new record. He grabbed your arms, pushing you against the wall. he held you against it, his grip firm on your wrists, his eyes filled with anger as he looked over your face.

“do you really think I'm like that? do you really think after everything we've been through I'd just stop loving you that easily?”

he was yelling at this point, but he could also hear his voice break slightly as he spoke. he’s crying too.

“you’re hurting me.” you firmly speak.

the fear on your face makes him realize what he’s just done.

exactly 2 seconds after his question, he lets go, backing away. he stutters to himself for a question, seeing what he’s done like a knife through his chest. maybe he wasn’t any better. maybe you had a right to not trust him.

“i’m… fuck, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he says, trying to wipe away your tears. he stops as you flinch away from his touch, only making him hate himself even more.

he loves you, and all he’s wanted to do was protect you. he’s angry, yes, but the last thing he’s ever wanted to do was hurt you. he’ll never forgive himself for that.

silently, you grab your jacket and keys and leave the apartment.

part 2 soon! 🫧

[botanicsoul]

Heyy would you able to write a yn x katsuki smut fic where yn is very tall( I never see people inserting tall reader and I'm 6ft myself so it's hard out here😫🙏🏻) maybe stuff about him comforting her about her feeling insecure that she's too tall. Let ur imagination run wild idm. Thank you luv if u do decide to write this prompt 💗

OF COUUURRRSEEEEE!! i love a tall baddie😝

I hope you like it hun!🩷🌸

“Too Tall? Not for Me.”

Katsuki Bakugou x Tall!Reader | smut/comfort

MDNI (18+)

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

The club was loud, filled with the pulsing bass of music and the hum of conversation. You weren’t even sure why you agreed to come out tonight—maybe because Mina had insisted, claiming you needed to “stop sulking and have some fun.” But you already knew how nights like this went.

You stood near the bar, shifting uncomfortably in your heels, which only made you taller. At six feet, you were already taller than most girls, but the added height had every guy looking at you like you were some kind of battle ready pro hero.

You were used to it—the lingering stares, the hesitant glances from men too insecure to approach you. And even when they did, the comments were always the same. Damn, you’re tall. Do you only date guys taller than you? Or worse, I like petite girls, but you’re kind of intimidating.

It never used to bother you as much as it did now. But after years of feeling out of place, the insecurities had settled deep in your bones.

And then, there was him.

Katsuki Bakugou, standing a few feet away, talking with Kirishima and Denki. He was clad in a tight black tee that clung to his muscles, his hands stuffed into his jeans as he sipped at a drink. His crimson eyes flickered over to you, sharp and assessing.

You quickly looked away, heart pounding. Bakugou had never treated you differently because of your height. In fact, he’d always been normal about it—never bringing it up, never making a big deal out of it, the two of you had gotten a lot closer this year.

But that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t mean he was into girls like you.

So, when you felt a presence settle beside you, warm and solid, you stiffened.

“The fuck you doin’ all the way over here?” His voice was rough, teasing, a little loud to be heard over the music but there was something softer beneath it.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Not in the mood for being stared at.”

Bakugou’s gaze flicked around the room, his expression darkening as he got closer to your ear so you could hear him better. “Who the hell is staring at you?”

You let out a dry laugh. “No one right now, but you know how it is. I don’t exactly blend in.”

He studied you for a long moment before clicking his tongue. “Who gives a shit?”

You sighed looking at him once a few inches away from each other’s face. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who gets treated like a goddamn skyscraper.”

Bakugou tilted his head slightly, his gaze unreadable. Then, without warning, he leaned in again, his lips brushing just beside your ear.

“Good,” he murmured. “Makes it easier for me to find you.”

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back, his smirk lazy and full of mischief. “Come on. Let’s get outta here this place is fuckin lame anyways”.

—

You barely made it inside his apartment before his hands were on you, rough and needy.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, pressing you against the door. His palms slid up your sides, over the curve of your waist, squeezing possessively. “Bet you don’t even know how fuckin’ hot you are.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Bakugou growled, nipping at your neck. “Shut up with that shit.” His hands moved lower, gripping your thighs. “Wrap ‘em around me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Katsuki, I’m too—”

“Too what?” His gaze darkened. “Too tall? Too strong? Too fuckin’ perfect?” He tightened his grip. “Let me make somethin’ real clear, princess—I don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling in your stomach.

“Now,” he rasped, lifting you with ease, “be a good girl and let me fuckin’ take care of you.”

And who were you to argue with that?

[phant0mth1ef]

i bet on losing dogs.

-

amplification, a unique quirk which allowed to user to essentially “power-up!” their own body, or send someone else’s quirk into overdrive to have them performing at top levels utilizing the wielder’s life energy.

the wielder of this quirk was a girl who had lived in musutafu most of her life, so small and timid but she had such big ambitions.

so why was it that said girl was currently lying on the ground, a pro hero over her as her eyes were half lidded and her body was weak and on the brink of unconsciousness.

bakugou looked over from where he stood on the battlefield to see what the hell was taking his mentor so long, but he didn’t expect to see you lying there under the hero taking small shallow breaths as your face was covered in battle scars.

best jeanist raised his hand to administer first aid to you, wondering why you hadn’t sent your body into overdrive in order to get yourself back up and running, but he could tell by your heartbeat that you had just one more amplification left in you, and with the way you looked him in the eye he knew that you had a plan in mind.

you slowly reached out for his arm, grabbing it and lowering it as you opened your mouth.

“deku and dynamight.” you whispered, best jeanist unable to comprehend you at first.

“what??” he was frantic, he didn’t want to be responsible for whatever would happen to you.

“bring me deku and dynamight.”

the two teens in question bolted over, hovering over you carefully as if you’d break if they put any force on your body. your hand quickly reached for their wrists, bakugou pulled away quickly, but deku understood as he looked at you solemnly.

“the hell are you doing?! use it on yourself, come on we don’t have much time.” he frantically yelled, so loud and yet so quiet at the same time as he made eye contact with you.

deku looked away as bakugou started changing his eyesight from you to him at rapid speeds, unable to believe just what his friend was allowing to happen as you gripped his wrist once again and activated your quirk, powering up their bodies and quirks to win this fight.

once done, you lied there unconscious due to the fact that you’d left yourself just a bit of life energy to allow you to get through this fight even if you were out of comission.

jeanist picked up your body, you hung limp as he brought it to the edge of the barrier, trying to put you far from harm’s way.

with one last glance, bakugou and deku looked over towards you before charging in.

they’d win. for you.

[pbelfz]

Two to One | 15 |

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Midoriya Chapter Title: Spilled Milk Chapter 14 | Chapter 16 Story Masterlist Summary: You are a simple college girl working at a cheap, back alley café! The top heroes, Deku and Ground Zero, visit your work in hopes of ordering coffee, but they pick something else up instead. You begin an interesting relationship with the pair, while slowly becoming aware of certain underhanded tactics they are using. Idolization isn't always that bad… Right?

WARNINGS: gaslighting, domestic violence, alcohol

“You’re WHAT?!”

Hana gaped back at (Y/n), trying to ensure she heard her correctly. (Y/n) smiled sadly at Hana.

“I just… got an opportunity elsewhere…,” she attempted to be vague. Hana didn’t look convinced.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans.”

(Y/n) gawked. “No–! And even if I was…,” she made a face at Hana. Hana tutted.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans without me,” she repeated, now laughing. The morning rush shift had slowed down to a nonexistent teeter. (Y/n) smiled at Hana’s comment as she cleaned one of the tables in the dining area of the quaint restaurant. Hana groaned, leaning back with her elbows on the countertop, her head tilting toward the ceiling.

“What am I gonna do without you here?!” Hana groaned at her best friend. (Y/n) announced that she put her two weeks in yesterday when Hana was off. Their manager flipped her shit, but Hana argued that she had it coming and that (Y/n) quitting should be the least of her worries. (Y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno. I’ll still stop by for some lattes. Give you guys some business with my big Only Fans money.”

Hana shook her head. “I’m gonna put my two weeks in tomorrow. Or I might just dip after today and not come back.” Hana’s curls bounced as she turned to check to make sure their manager was in the café backroom. Deep in the café backroom.

“You should stay for the chance of running into Shoto,” (Y/n) recommended, leaning on her elbows on the cashier counter. Katsuki and Izuku had been frequenting their café much more often lately, and she and Hana kid that it was only a matter of time before word of Sato’s traveled to Pro Hero Shoto. However, Hana still shook her head.

“What do you mean? We’re married. I see him every night. Work is my chance to get away from him!” She gave (Y/n) a coy smile. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, grinning, smacking Hana’s arm with a small hand towel.

“Shut up!”

Izuku and Katsuki threw themselves headfirst into their work, and (Y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like she expected things to change after she finally had sex, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the experience wasn’t as life-changing as it was all made out to be.

What was that feeling? That persistent nudging tug in the depths of her mind and gut, telling her that something more should be happening now, either between her, Izuku, and Katsuki or in her life? Disappointment? She lost her virginity to one of the most famous pro heroes in Japan, and the experience wasn’t anything less than euphoric. What was there to be disappointed about?

Maybe how neither Izuku nor Katsuki recognized (Y/n)’s perceived loss of innocence. (Y/n) considered bitterly whether there was even any innocence to ‘lose’, and why would having sex make her any less innocent? Was she dirty now? No, no. That’s not it. (Y/n) didn’t expect the heroes to celebrate or anything of that nature. That’d be rather disturbing. What was she expecting, though? Nothing ultimately changed after the intercourse. Not herself, not really. Not Katsuki. Not Izuku. What the hell even was virginity?

Did she want them to change? What more did she want to come from that experience?

“Izuku?” She called, sitting on the couch one night. It was late; Izuku had just gotten home from a 16-hour shift. (Y/n) never really knew if he and Katsuki chose to work that long willingly – their hours seemed flexible – but she did notice that Katsuki seemed to know his limits and take scheduled breaks throughout the day. She couldn’t say the same about Izuku.

“Yeah?” Izuku replied half-heartedly. He obviously didn’t want to speak to anybody right now. He was digging through the fridge, looking for leftovers to wolf down. (Y/n) was convinced that Katsuki was the only reason why Izuku remembered to even eat and shower or even take care of himself at all. Katsuki’s footsteps could be heard upstairs; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower himself.

“What’s virginity?” (Y/n) blurted obtusely.

The shuffling of plastic containers and cartons in the fridge stopped. Izuku stood upright.

“What?”          

He sounded incredulous. (Y/n) didn’t want to look at him because she was so ashamed of her question.

“What’s virginity?” She repeated, a little louder and snappier, in case he didn’t hear her. Izuku looked at the back of her head with a wild stare.

“(Y/n), I’m not–,“ Izuku was not in the mood for whatever she was talking about.

“And what’s the point of it?” (Y/n) continued. Izuku dragged a hand down his face.

“I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for,” he was blunt, more blunt than he cared to be. He was exhausted. He just wanted to eat something, go to bed and turn the world off, not deal with whatever emotional turmoil (Y/n) was feeling.

“I just… don’t feel any different,” (Y/n) pondered aloud, not caring if Izuku wanted to talk or not.

She heard the fridge door shut and footsteps approach. “Uh, good?” Izuku spoke with a mouth full of chicken, which he didn’t even bother to heat up. “It’d be weird if you felt different after having sex?” Izuku stared down at her oddly. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean there’s, like…,” she made vague gestures with her hands. “It’s like nothing even happened.”

Izuku was tired, and when Izuku was tired, it was like talking to a brick wall. He was just as stubborn as Katsuki, if not more. This conversation was going nowhere. He swallowed the food he was chewing and shook his head, shrugging.

“I don’t know what to say.”

(Y/n) sighed, frustrated. She got off the couch and stormed up the stairs. “Ugh. Forget it.”

Izuku made his way over to claim the spot on the couch she left, continuing to eat his food.

Okay. (Y/n) can admit that she was being a little fussy. She blew by Katsuki, who was bent over in the middle of the hall replacing his bath items into the closet, and retreated into the bedroom.

Katsuki’s hair was still damp from his shower. He blinked, watching as she disappeared into the bedroom but left the door wide open. Katsuki stared at the door for a minute before inhaling slowly and letting out a sigh. He stood, closed the closet, and rubbed the back of his neck as he hesitantly followed after (Y/n).

He stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. (Y/n) was on the bed, scrolling on her phone, obviously upset. Katsuki was debating whether he should bite or turn and walk away. Whenever he or Izuku gets into a bad mood, they typically avoid each other lest it blow up in their faces. He didn’t know how this would turn out with (Y/n).

He’ll bite. (Y/n) was more sensitive than Deku. She needed different things than he did. Katsuki was still learning.

He shifted his weight, feeling stiff. “Something happen?”

“No,” came the sharp reply. Katsuki blinked, and his face soured. Katsuki hadn’t heard her use that tone with him before.

“What?” He snapped back.

(Y/n) didn’t look up at him, still scrolling on her phone. “I said, no, nothing happened.”

Katsuki stared at her. “Okay, but something obviously did? Your attitude is shit right now.”

(Y/n) shrugged and shook her head. “Your attitude is always shit. What, I’m not allowed to be upset about something?”

Katsuki threw his head back and closed his eyes. He took a breath. Calm down. “So, something did happen?”

(Y/n) groaned, rolling her eyes. “You guys just… practically ignore me!” She blurted. “You’re never here! I moved out of my apartment, I put my two weeks in at my job for you, and you guys don’t even seem grateful… My whole life is about to change…”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Us? Grateful? We are paying your tuitionfor your shitty education. We are giving you free housing in one of the safest neighborhoods in Japan. We are giving you complete access to your own bank account with millions of yen already in it with no strings attached. If there’s anyone that should be grateful, I’m looking right at her.”

(Y/n) was teary-eyed at Katsuki’s harsh words. She yelled at him, “What if I was fine before all of that?!”

“Then leave!”

Izuku came up the stairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, and despite the argument, he didn’t appear urgent. “What’s going–“

“Go back to your shitty life. I don’t care,” Katsuki turned and disengaged, going downstairs and leaving (Y/n) crying on the bed.

Izuku could barely stand on two legs from exhaustion, but he relented the fact that Katsuki could handle himself. If there was anyone that needed to be pacified, it was (Y/n). He had to figure out how to settle all of this before the clock struck 1 AM so they could all get to bed peacefully.

He stepped further into the bedroom, staring with dead eyes at (Y/n) as she cried on their bed. He had to push himself to keep walking forward and to sit on the bed next to her. He waited silently for her to stop crying enough to look up at him.

Eventually, her sobs simmered, and she just sniffled. She rubbed her eyes, finally meeting Izuku’s gaze. This was the first time tonight that she really could see the exhaustion on his face, and she felt guilty for making tonight about her.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asks. His voice is calm and quiet, but she hears that tinge of something else – pity.

“I, uh…,” (Y/n) starts, now unsure why she’s upset. “I guess I’m just stressed. And worried. And scared.”

Izuku looked concerned. “About?”

(Y/n) sighed, wiping her eye. “I don’t know,” she paused for a moment. “Katsuki’s right. I should be grateful for all you guys have done for me… I don’t know why I’m feeling like this.”

Izuku glanced off into the hallway, probably trying to determine where Katsuki was in the house. “Are you… not happy here with us?”

(Y/n) instantly shifted to face him fully on the bed. “No, no! That’s not it at all. I’m very happy… It’s just… different.”

He stared at her. “It doesn’t sound like you’re happy. Or look like it, either.”

(Y/n) looked at him oddly, making a point to prevent any more tears from falling. “I am. I am.”

Izuku continued watching her. (Y/n)’s phone vibrated in her hands, and she glanced at it before turning it back over.

“Did we do something to upset you?” Izuku asked. (Y/n) shook her head.

“No, you guys didn’t do anything…,” her voice trailed off.

“We obviously did. What is it?” He could be just as forthright as Katsuki. “We can’t help if we don’t know.” What little patience was left inside of Izuku this evening was nearly depleted. He was trying his hardest to remain present and serene. (Y/n) shook her head. Her phone vibrated again, and Izuku couldn’t help how his gaze flickered down at it.

(Y/n) sighed, realizing Izuku wasn’t really going to leave her alone until she spoke; however, there was an air of shame that surrounded her.

“I just… think I need more attention, maybe…,” she tried not to wince, but she wasn’t sure how well she covered up her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I know you guys have long hours…,” she trailed off once again.

Izuku nodded, “We do.”

“Um…,” she didn’t know what to say next. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I think I’m just a little emotional after…,” she referred to their night together the other week. And, now that she’d thought about it, it wasn’t like they were completely ignoring her, either. They gave her affection as much as they could, kisses and whatnot. They’d all messed around a bit since that night, but they hadn’t gone ‘all the way’ again. Maybe with each other, but not with (Y/n). She didn’t feel ready to, and she knew that upset Izuku. He didn’t say it, but he always seemed a little disappointed when he saw the hesitance in (Y/n)’s eyes and how her touch was fleeting instead of carrying the same passion they started with. It especially disappointed him how she lingered heavier on Katsuki during their intimate moments, leaving Izuku to occasionally feel like the third wheel. He didn’t want to speculate on why this would be, so he never brought attention to it in hopes that he was imagining it.

“I’m sorry,” what exactly was she apologizing for? She felt like she needed to, though. Izuku looked like he was going to fall over from exhaustion, she’d made Katsuki mad, and here she was complaining when they had given her any girl’s dream life.

Izuku was too tired to address this any further. He glanced at the hallway again to see if Katsuki had returned. He hadn’t. He must’ve banished himself to sleep downstairs on the couch.

“Let’s just go to bed, yeah?” Izuku offered.

(Y/n) sighed but reluctantly nodded, feeling like a piece of her was unfulfilled.

Katsuki and Izuku made more of an effort to attend to (Y/n) after that night by spending more time with her when they were home. It made (Y/n) feel worse because she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t satisfied with all they had given her thus far – and now she could see how they were actively trying to keep her happy on top of all of that? Why couldn’t she just be appreciative to begin with? She tried not to let the guilt eat her alive, especially when she remembered that no other person, let alone two people at once, had ever treated her this preciously.

While the two pro heroes built their relationships individually with (Y/n), tensions rose between them, and it made (Y/n) uncomfortable. She didn’t know if this was how they always were or if something recently sparked this apparent rivalry between the two men. As she spent more time settling into the home and acclimating to her new environment, she couldn’t help but notice the sly remarks or side glances they gave each other – about literally anything. Most of their spats had to do with work. (Y/n) hardly knew what truly occurred in the hero world, so she would stay out of it.

Day by day, though, her guilt faded. She felt happier and able to truly enjoy her place in their home, no longer feeling like an outsider or a guest. She was learning both of them, slowly but surely. Katsuki required a lot of attention, but he’d never outright ask for it. He’d linger around (Y/n), not exactly engaging with her but doing mindless things around the house, and he’d get defensive if she pointed it out. She appreciated it when Katsuki was more honest about his desires, especially when he came home and the first thing he did was give her a kiss. Izuku was an insufferable romantic and very different than Katsuki in that regard. He was much more comfortable showing affection, and he always prioritized his partners’ comfort over his desires.

Izuku was much more cynical than his media personality makes him out to be. Sometimes, he said things that even made Katsuki go silent.

Katsuki was also a very clean person. (Y/n) feels like he might have an oral fixation, or maybe he just really, really enjoys watching her eat his cooking. She isn’t sure.

(Y/n) was getting ready for bed, just getting out of the shower, when she heard the whack of skin coming from the kitchen. She paused, listening, her mind trying to reassure her that it wasn’t what she thought it was. The front door opened and slammed shut – someone left the house, or someone just entered. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She quickly tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying not to slip, as she still hadn’t dried off completely, peering down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She caught a glimpse of Izuku sitting at the island by himself. Whatever ruckus went down a few minutes prior no longer remained, and the house was silent. (Y/n) clutched the towel that draped around her, making sure it wasn’t going to fall, as she crept down the stairs.

Izuku glared at her as soon as she entered the kitchen, making her freeze by the door.

“What happened?” (Y/n) asked quietly. Izuku rolled his eyes, finally getting up from his barstool. He opened a kitchen drawer, the one where they kept random medicines, and rummaged through the back of it. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter he’d stashed there.

(Y/n) watched him as he lit his smoke. She’d never seen him smoke in the house before. She got a glimpse of his face, then. His cheek was red and beginning to lightly bruise. (Y/n)’s eyes widened, and immediately, she flashed back to the events at Koburi Pass. She quickly approached Izuku, cupping his face to get a better look.

“Katsuki did that…?” Her emotions were conflicted. Izuku instantly yanked his face away from her before her fingers could even touch him. He took a drag of his cigarette. Tobacco smoke filled the kitchen, and (Y/n) grimaced. She just noticed now that she was shaking. Neither she nor Izuku said anything to each other for a while. They stood together in the kitchen silently, and (Y/n) watched as Izuku finished his cigarette. He rummaged through the medicine drawer once again, pulling out another cig.

“How many…?”

Izuku cut her off, seemingly already knowing what she was going to ask. “I keep them there. He hasn’t found them yet, or if he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“Is he going to be upset that you’re smoking in the house?”

Izuku laughed bitterly, smoke blowing out with his exhale. He rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

Izuku practically refused to talk to (Y/n) about anything. The two of them just remained in each other’s presence. (Y/n) felt like he needed that more than to talk through whatever happened. He eventually went to bed, but (Y/n) stayed up. Katsuki hadn’t returned home yet, and (Y/n) had a few words to say to him.

It was around 2 AM when Katsuki returned home.

He closed the front door quietly – a complete difference from the slam hours ago. (Y/n) sat in the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk. She was nervous to see him, to get the truth of what happened. He was taking his time removing his shoes in the genkan, and it made every second feel like years. She forgot she even poured herself a glass of milk, as she stared at the entryway.

Katsuki appeared at the door of the kitchen, and his gaze immediately locked onto (Y/n). He looked a little distracted but otherwise fine. It wasn’t until he stepped further into the kitchen that she realized he was drunk.

He looked down at the untouched glass of milk in front of (Y/n).

“You spilled some,” he muttered. (Y/n) glanced down, noticing that she did indeed spill some milk on the counter when she was pouring it.

“I’ll get it,” she replied, looking back up at Katsuki. “Do you need water?”

Katsuki scoffed but smiled. “No.”

She thought she might as well confront him directly. Her resentment was teeming, “Why’d you hurt Izuku?”

The befuddled, faraway stare that Katsuki held hardened a little when she said that. He almost felt guilty. He swallowed, the alcohol loosening his lips more than he liked.

“He pissed me off,” he gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. Careless but honest.

Katsuki was always honest but never careless. (Y/n) decided then that she didn’t like this side of Katsuki. Her stomach felt tight.

“So, if I ever piss you off, you’ll do the same to me?” She snapped.

Katsuki shook his head, scowling at the ridiculousness of her question. He still stood in the doorway, almost caging her in, and (Y/n) noticed just how small she really was to them, to this big house. They stared at each other. Katsuki blinked then sighed, walking over to the fridge. (Y/n) was acutely aware of his movements, like she was locked in a room with a starving lion that circled her. The lion hadn’t pounced yet, but she could feel it in her bones that he was still eager to attack.

He shrugged, reaching for a beer from the bottom shelf – in the way back of the fridge.

“Guess not,” was his answer.

That wasn’t good enough for (Y/n), but she knew not to press the issue right now, not while he’s like this.

He popped open the beer bottle, threw away the cap, and plodded to the living room. She heard him collapse on the couch with a sigh.

(Y/n) stayed away from him for a while.

[souliebird]

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man. 

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis. 

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands. 

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life. 

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name. 

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner. 

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in. 

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you. 

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours. 

It scares you so much it's not your choice. 

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that. 

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information. 

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter. 

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take? 

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices. 

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running. 

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases. 

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering. 

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner? 

"All done?" 

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left. 

You turn your head to follow her gaze. 

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up. 

The cameras don't do him justice. 

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's. 

The realization shakes your entire world. 

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world. 

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer. 

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you." 

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest. 

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that. 

Your throat gets tight again. 

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat. 

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment. 

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it. 

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office. 

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father. 

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office. 

This isn't about you or your fears. 

This is for Minnie. 

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you. 

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart. 

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain. 

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him. 

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it. 

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before. 

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic. 

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen. 

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party." 

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up. 

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth. 

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille." 

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe. 

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face. 

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well. 

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy. 

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. 

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention. 

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger. 

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper. 

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe. 

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up. 

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times. 

 Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you. 

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

 "She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good. 

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him. 

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying. 

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there." 

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes. 

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me." 

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan. 

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea." 

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?" 

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting." 

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?" 

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes." 

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office. 

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?" 

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right." 

"I do, too." 

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie. 

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over. 

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice. 

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?" 

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you." 

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please." 

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect." 

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man. 

You really hope he's a good father too.

[hatsukeii]

hey girllllll i’m here at ur cafe cause exams have been kicking my ass… i need a comfort drink RN !! can i get an oolong tea with pumps 19 and 20 from the sugar free menu :) ive been EYEING that customer in the corner right there.. yeah the blonde haired red eyed one— he’s called bakugou you say? fuckkk, set me up pls, sister? 😁😁

ps. good luck for ur exams hattsun! we can do this :p

hello hello:)) thank you for the wishes and good luck on your exams too!! i've got your order up! (why! would you put yourself through extra bitter tea!)

to kill a god / prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

ingredient(s): angst<3 (you asked for it baby), pro hero katsuki x terminal patient reader, soulmates to dead idk, major death! major character death! anguish! pain! just straight up agony tbh

disclaimer(s): terminal illnes + major character death warning!! also like i think i used a hc that pro heros don't reveal their names to the public idk why, scarce use of y/n like once or twice, ending is! a little rushed but i hope it hits anyways, they are the embodiment of "are they lovers?" "no, worse" so...

wc: ~3.0k

drink profile: absolute defiance, hospital walls, luck and chance

Katsuki Bakugou, at six years old, declares that he wants to live forever. He wants to blow villains up for the rest of time, expend the nitroglycerin in his sweat glands until the world ends one day and everything is reduced to atoms. He lives out his childhood with his chest puffed out, like he cannot- no, will not die.

Even as his limbs weigh heavy on his teenage body, and he can feel himself hit concrete ground as whips of black shoot through his torso, he tells himself he is not dying. He's not fucking dying, because he has lived and fought like a god.

By the time he graduates from UA, Katsuki is certain that he has to, one day, meet his end. He pretends like he can live forever anyways.

When Katsuki meets you for the first time, it is in a hospital courtyard on a sweltering July afternoon. Hours of greeting and running around with children finds him sitting on a bench, away from the commotion that is contained within the hospital white walls of the pediatric sectors. His skin boils beneath his suit, and he tries to wipe his sweat-slicked forehead with a gloved hand. From beside him, a paper towel appears beneath his nose, slipped between an index and middle finger. Katsuki stares at your palm, eyes travelling to the IV drip inserted into your wrist. When he looks up, he isn't sure how you've gone unnoticed for so long, with your IV pole by your side, donned in a sterile blue hospital gown. You look not a day over twenty.

"Dynamight." Your voice comes out as more of a croak than a youthful chirp.

The towel is swiped into Katsuki's hands swiftly, before he pats at his forehead. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

He scoffs, slipping the dampened towel into his pocket. How absurd. Dynamight? Afraid of dying? Do you think he fights because he's scared of dying? Turning to you, Katsuki comes to realise that you might be dead serious, dull eyes boring into his skull. He could see nothing behind them. The IV drips, and drips, and drips. You stare. He isn't sure what to tell you.

"Hell no. But I don't wanna die." He leans into the hardwood bench, spreads his legs a little further apart. He doesn't know that he's lying, even when his stomach stirs and the wooden bench begins to cool, and coarsen into concrete ground and blood. He should look away before it all feels too real again, but you're looking at him like a child, twenty years too old, searching for answers in the face of what power means in this world. Katsuki hates it.

"Of course not. You're a hero after all. All the power in the world."

You stand, and leave him sitting there alone. That night, pro hero Dynamight waits for backup at a villain sighting for the first time.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou promises to give you a taste of power when he meets you a second time at the same hospital, the next week.

He's not sure how his patrol shift has brought him here again, but he never got to stand up for himself. It's not his fault he's a hero, not his fault that he enjoys power in the spark of his palms, or that he isn't afraid of dying because he's clawed his way out of it so many times. But he knows what it's like, he says, standing by your bed. Knows what it's like to never die, even when everything is pushing him to. That's power, he tells you, absolute defiance. And you're sitting in a hospital bed surrounded by two palliative care workers who have to shoot you up with anaesthetics every four hours. So he leans down close, so close that he can sense the wariness coming from your stony eyes, see the hairs on your skin stand helplessly, and he frowns.

"D'you think you're weak?" His question is uttered to a husk of a human, who needs the wall to keep them upright. You wince painfully in response, unsure of what he wants to hear from your chapped lips. One of the workers doses you with anaesthesia, and you pinch your eyes shut. It still hurts, even after all this time.

"I'm just waiting to die, call that what you want. Weak, sure." You swallow at the thought, because you're fucking terrified. Katsuki takes it that you are scared of him.

"You're just fuckin'... waiting to die?" Vermillion eyes squint in disbelief, and you swallow again, this time at his question instead. He hates spineless quitters. He hates them more than he can imagine. Some part buried deep inside him wants to refuse death on your behalf, because he detests nothing more than the notion of going out helplessly, bound at the mercy of a hospital bed and anaesthesia. There has to be someone out ther with a quirk that can save you, and Katsuki isn't sure why but he's hellbent on finding them. Call it civil service. A hero's duty to save.

"If you're going to come here, Dynamight, at least make this easier for me, and don't act like I asked for it."

Right, Dynamight. That's what people call him, and you are no different, so he's not sure why he expected otherwise. When one of the two palliative workers approaches you with a syringe, Katsuki doesn't think he can bear the sight of another dose of chemicals worming its way into your veins. You're just another chickenshit defeatist, poisoning themselves in a hospital room.

He turns on his heels, and leaves while you hiss in pain.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

No one at the hospital is quite sure of what is going on between pro hero Dynamight, and a terminal patient. They watch him return, week after week, sometimes consecutive days in a row. When he steps through the automatic doors, he shoots every single worker that passes by him a curt nod, then hikes up the stairs to room 203. The only people in the room would be two palliative care workers and yourself, and the rest of the hospital staff is sure he's brokered a deal with the two workers to never let a single word out of 203.

Nobody else ever enters 203 while Dynamight is here.

But everybody talks.

They make rumours, pick up on singular words through the sliding door, then say he's grown weak. Soft. Pro hero Dynamight, no longer the first at the scene of a crime. Pro hero Dynamight, falling back from combat on live television. Pro hero Dynamight, visiting a terminal patient, day after day. He must have too much free time on his hands. Maybe he's had enough of hero work. Maybe he's gone mad.

What they conveniently fail to understand, outside the barrier of 203's white door, is that Katsuki Bakugou doesn't know what is going on between himself, and you either. He comes back every day not because he particularly wants to, but because he can't help himself not to. He finds you again, and again, and again, just to listen to you talk about hospital food, or how you've just watched him back down on live television, scrutinised by millions of watchful eyes.

Then, Katsuki asks you how long you have left, to which your answer is always decreasing. A year the first few times, then halved, and by this visit, his seventeenth, you tell him, "three months."

"That's a quarter of what you had five weeks ago."

"Tough luck." You stare at the IV drip in your wrist, watch the liquid seep into your veins through the thin tube.

He wants to promise that he can help you, even though it holds no power. He is not a doctor. Everyone else in this hospital is. But Katsuki Bakugou has almost died about a hundred times, and still he lives, so he thinks he must know something that they don't. Absolute defiance.

"Nothing is luck." He sits on the bedside stool, grinding his foot into the squeaky hospital floor. "It's all a wretched fight."

"Yeah, for you it can be." You laugh dryly, wiggling your wrist and watching as the IV tube sticks up in odd angles. "But luck's all everyone else has got."

A pigeon smashes into the glass window, and drops to the balcony floor outside in a flurry of feathers. One of the palliative care workers leaves to pick the mound of grey from the floor. Katsuki looks away when the other one shoots you up with another dose of anaesthesia. Something hums in the air, inescapable, like the time he woke up in a hospital bound in bandages, circulating oxygen from a new, pumping heart. His hands spark, and for once, he wonders if he just got lucky.

"Let me touch your sparks."

You finally speak again, a hand stretching out weakly to point at the crackles and pops of Katsuki's palm. Gingerly, he extends his gloved palm towards you, careful not to touch the equipment that surrounds your bed. When you take his hand in yours, something twists in his chest, and sparks thud at his suited torso instead. They're weak enough to do little damage, yet as he tries to ignite sparks again, they misfire a second time, scorching the dead pigeon pinched between the palliative care worker's fingers. Katsuki Bakugou has never been afraid before, but he jerks his hand away from you, yanking onto the IV drip and rattling the pole that wobbles at the force. He may as well be quirkless in your wake. Powerless.

"What the fuck was that?"

You shrug. You've always wanted to be a hero, watching their escapades from your bedridden world. You just got unlucky.

"Luck. That's luck. I wanted to become a hero with it."

You would have been a great hero, Katsuki thinks. You should have been a great hero.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou doesn't realise that he has never called you by name until his twenty-third visit. He sits by your bed, gives you his hand, lets you do as you please with soft sparks that tickle and prick at your skin, as he has for the past four visits. He's figured that you would smile when they redirect to the spot just between the two of you, like fireworks that stutter and pop into flowers. Some part of him hates to admit it, but he's enjoying this much more than blowing villains up.

"You're getting better. That's the third in a row in the right place."

"All luck."

He swallows thickly, because he hasn't asked the question yet. How could he, when he's giving you exactly what he promised- power? He floats images in his head: IV drips, surgery, growing tumour, operation room, flatlines. They cover your body in a shroud of inevitable dread, and Katsuki would blow them apart if he could. But he's given you his quirk, and you're making fireworks with it.

"Are you scared? Of dying?" The fourth spark hits a mug on a desk across the room. It jolts off, and shatters on the ground. You shrink into the bed, pulling his hand into your chest, and his gut drops. There's a sort of bitter taste that worms into his mouth, but he lets his hand lie flat against your sternum when you push it closer to yourself, and it dissipates. Your chest rises, heavy and slow, like every breath is laboured. When you look up at Katsuki, he isn't angry. His cheeks are rounded, soft eyes watching your fingers around his hand, lips slightly pushed apart by his sudden question. It occurs to you that he might be asking more than just yourself that.

"What does it matter to me?"

"Should I be?"

He stares back at you, and you freeze. Pro hero Dynamight faces death head on every day like it's nothing, but some sick part of you wants him to be afraid too. It will take three weeks to catch you, maybe a few more decades until it chases his tail, but death finds everyone eventually, and that should be terrifying.

"You can choose. Do you want to be scared?"

He should defy this, just like he has so many times before. Dynamight has a fake heart, fake name, fake recklessness, it's all fucking bravado. Katsuki's been tasting blood in his mouth every night since his old heart stopped pumping at sixteen years old, his bed is bloodstained concrete ground when he wakes up in a cold sweat. He can choose, but can you do the same? And even if he did not have to choose, if he could be immortal, would he still pick a side? What good is being a god, if he can only live to watch death take you from above? 

Your hair covers your face, your fingers ghost across his gloved ones, and he swallows the question of how long you really have left. 

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

He holds his breath, letting it out only to utter, "Katsuki." You hold his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I wouldn't be scared if I knew I could move on from this." 

"Don't use me to make your choice. You have to move on from this. And you have to be okay with that."

At thirteen years old, Katsuki Bakugou is publicly asphyxiated for approximately one minute and twenty seconds, until Izuku Midoriya arrives on the scene, trying to wrench him out. At sixteen years old, he is pronounced dead in battle, until Edgeshot turns himself into his new heart. It has never been about defiance, and always about people being in the right place, at the right time. His life has been dangling from the promise of luck since the day he was born with a quirk that lets him pretend to be a god. So no, maybe he shouldn’t let somebody else make this choice for him.

"But I'm still scared, y/n. I'm still so fucking scared."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Pro hero Dynamight breaks down on live television one week later, following a close call with a criminal syndicate. Millions of eyes glue to their home televisions, watching him scream profanities into a Juko News microphone outside a hospital. Parents cover their children's ears, angry commentators press backspace on their "dy-no might" comments, 6pm rush hour stops to stare at angry Shibuya billboards, but nobody changes the broadcast.

"You motherfuckers have no idea how fucking lucky you are to be alive! When have you ever, ever! Had to count your fucking days?" Spit shoots from Dynamight's mouth, and they think he's deranged, unhinged. He stands in front of the hospital- your hospital, and forces the retreating cameraman to redirect the lenses at his angry spew.

"Gone soft, weak, no might, quit the shit!" He points at the hospital behind him, right at the window of room 203. If you aren't hearing him from your bed, Katsuki is ready to grab the microphone, and yell it from the balcony for everyone to hear.

"You will never understand what it's like waking up to fucking hospital white day by day. I have seen it, people in there have seen it." He jabs a finger at the camera accusingly. "If you want heroes to die fighting so badly, I suggest that you fuckers try it for yourself."

Turning to 203, Katsuki stops for a moment. Reporters snap photos behind each other, yet nobody says a word. Have you made him soft? Made him weak? Have you killed Dynamight? When he remembers the fireworks between your noses, and the choice he's made for himself, he thinks the opposite.

"I will not apologise for wanting to live. I will not apologise for trying to live. And I will not fucking apologise for being scared of dying. Not when I get to wake up, and choose to be scared."

Katsuki throws the microphone to the ground, and stomps on it, storming into the hospital. Comments flood the broadcast. Coward. Fake. Spineless. Ungrateful. His PR team scrambles to get the footage deleted.

He hikes into 203. To hell with the news outlets, and the reporters, and the spineless keyboard warriors, because he's watching you take your dying breath if that's what it takes for him to move on from you. He slides open the door, and you're bedridden, breathing through an oxygen mask. You smile at him like you've saved him from something you don't know. He smiles back, because you have.

"I'll only move on when you do."

"Two weeks, Katsuki."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When pro hero Dynamight arrives at the hospital again, nine hours have gone by since his public meltdown. He returns to rubble, and dust, and a dozen rescue heros scrambling on their feet at 3am. They say that there's been a gas explosion, that the past few maintainence checks have failed to detect litres of propane seeping into every crevice of the institution, all while flipping through piles of concrete for signs of life. They tell him that more heroes will be here soon, and that he should focus on breaking open larger pieces of debris. As he sends explosion after explosion into deconstructed hospital walls, Katsuki wishes he could pretend to care about the mangled corpses crushed beneath what once was a hospital. He doesn't.

People all look the same when their heads are crushed between asphalt and concrete. Hundreds of IV drips are littered around the wreckage. It has been one hour, and even with backup, they have only found seven survivors. Dynamight cannot save people here, all he can do is blow rubble to bits, hoping to find beneath it one more person whose lungs haven't been crushed already. He is no hero. He couldn't even save one person.

Three hours of searching concludes with twenty-two survivors, all hauled into helicopters and stretchers, and flown away to someplace Katsuki doesn't care to know. Rescue heroes never confirm the death count, and can only give an estiamte of approximately three hundred fatalities, and twenty-two casualties. They never find your body.

Katsuki stands on broken rubble, and he thinks he has been killed again, two weeks too soon, all in the name of misfortune. Tough luck. He swallows his pride, because in the face of death, absolute defiance has never been his vice. As he gapes at this massacre of pure chance, his gloved hands can barely form sparks. How did you ever turn them into fireworks?

barista's note:

hi do you guys still love me<3 double pump of sugar free you were ASKING FOR ITTTTTTTT i do apologise i rushed the ending because i have more requests and i want to get through them but i am physically! incapable of like multitasking on writing like i have to finish one to start one or nothing comes out i fear... i hope the ending hit the vibes right anyways though because idk what i was thinking while writing this i think i was kinda just vomiting onto the page whatever felt right LMFAOOAO

tags: @catsoupki @laughingfcx @wishi-selfships @fiannee @chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @hiraethwa @bakery-anon @wyrcan @bailey-reeds @hiraethwrote @kuroppiii @kongkhoi @staraxiaa

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

How The MHA Guys Act When They Realize They Don't Have a Condom 💋

Synopsis: You're with your Pro Hero boyfriend and things are getting steamy! But - oh no! - he doesn't have a condom on him! What ever will you do!? A little peak into how each hero would handle such a precarious situation 👀

Ships: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader, Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader, Eijirou Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Note: Smut alert!!! Strictly A18+ ONLY! All characters are in their late 20s.

CW: MDNI!, spicy scenes, semi-public sex, dubcon (in the Katsuki section), mention of oral sex, penetrative sex scenes, mention of Costco

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

How the MHA guys act when they realize they don’t have a condom 😱

Izuku x Reader 🥦💚

Things have been getting so crazy hot and heavy lately with your freckled boyfriend Izuku. Ever since the first time you two had sex together a few weeks ago, he can’t keep his hands off of you. In just a few days time, you’ve let him take you in every position you know how – you’re both absolutely insatiable.

You’re putting on a cute outfit for a dinner date with Izuku when you hear your apartment doorbell ring. He’s super early – maybe by a full hour. You throw your hair up in a ponytail and dash to open the door for your sweet broccoli-haired boyfriend. You gasp aloud at the sight that greets you – Izuku stands in his hero uniform, fresh from battle. His hair is mussed and his costume is torn in several places. He has dark circles under his eyes and looks absolutely exhausted. Your hands fly to cover your mouth in shock as you take in the battle worn hero.

“’Zuku…what on Earth!?”

Izuku smiles sheepishly. “Mind if we just order in dinner tonight? It’s been a rough 24 hours at the agency.”

“Is everything okay!?” You run to get a damp washcloth so you can dab at the small scrape that’s sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“It is now – please don’t worry! I’m a little worse for wear but nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.” He smiles fondly as you poke at his wounds with your washcloth, cleaning building debris out of shallow cuts.

“Of course we can order takeout. Anything you need, babe, please let me know.” You say sincerely.

“A-actually, Y/N. There is one thing-”

And that’s how you end up straddling Izuku on the couch, his hands twisting in your hair as you kiss him while trying to work his belt loose.

“You don’t understand how much I need to be inside you right now babe. Your pussy is absolutely perfect – it’s like a hard reset for my body every time you make me cum, I – “ Izuku stops talking dirty and his expression shifts a bit.

“Oh shit…Y/N, I don’t have a condom on me!”

He must see the way your face has fallen at the statement, because in a flash he’s scrambling out of bed and rethreading his belt into his uniform. You motion for him to rejoin you in bed, ready to tell him that you don’t need to fuck tonight. He looks so exhausted and injured, it’s probably better if you both take a rest anyway -

“I’ll be right back!” In typical Izuku fashion, he’s sprinting out the door with boundless energy. You’re left sitting with your clothes disheveled and your jaw agape.

A half hour later, he’s zooming back through the still-unlocked door. He proudly holds up a bag for you to inspect.

“Izuku, you didn’t need to run out like that. You’re all beat up and I would have been perfectly happy just to-”

But he cuts you off with a wave of his hand. He tosses the full bag into your arms for inspection. The minute the package leaves his arms, he starts stripping – he pulls off his belt and his hero uniform follows. He uses a quick boost of One for All to speed up the process, and he’s soon standing over you in nothing but his tight-fitting boxers.

You tear your eyes away from him and slowly unwrap the package in your hands.  When you see its contents you burst out laughing. Within the brown plastic grocery bag is an absolutely MASSIVE box of Trojan condoms. It must have at least 50 packets inside!

“What the hell Izuku?!” You cry out as tears of laughter roll down your cheeks. Never in a million years would you have imagined that he’d come back with this.

“I ran to Costco!” He says enthusiastically. “This was in the bulk section!” Now he’s hopping on one foot as he struggles to disentangle himself from his black boxers. His hard cock is on full display for you – and despite being deep in the through of laughter, your mouth practically waters as you take in how hot your boyfriend looks naked.

“Everything in Costco is the bulk section. That’s, like, the entire point of Costco!” You shriek, unable to stop your giggles.

Izuku throws himself on top of you on the couch, and the box o’ condoms goes flying across the room. You make a mad grab for it, but it’s too late – the box hits the ground at an angle and there’s an explosion of wrapped condoms across your living room floor. You can’t breathe you’re laughing so hard. Izuku joins in, throwing his head back to laugh loud and carefree. After a moment of belly laughing together, he scrambles off of you and starts shoveling condoms back into the box with his hands.

“Now start taking your clothes off!” He calls over his shoulder. “We’ve only got 5 hours until I’m back on-shift at the agency, and I think we can get through at least 3 of these before I have to go back.” He throws a handful of condoms in your direction and you know it’s about to be a fun couple of hours!

Katsuki x Reader 💥🧡

The mid-day sun shines through your private office window and bounces across your paper-strewn work station. The clock on the wall chimes half-past 3 o’clock and the sound reverberates through the quiet office. The door is locked and the blinds are pulled – your co-workers outside your office door are none the wiser about your current predicament.

Katsuki Bakugo has you bent over your large wooden desk. He’s stripped you of your sensible work skirt and he’s currently eating you out from behind, using his fingers to rub sweet circles around your clit.

“Katsuki – Katsuki we shouldn’t be doing this at work!” You moan out in a strangled whisper right before he hits a really good spot. You clap your hand over your mouth and try to stifle your guttural sounds of pleasure.

Katsuki gets another few licks in before he pulls away from your pussy, wiping his mouth as he gives your perky ass a quiet smack!

“It’s your work, not mine. I don’t care if we get caught. Besides – work is the reason we haven’t been able to see each other in over two weeks. You’ve been attending all those stupid shitty galas and I’ve been off on missions.”  He continues to rub your clit as he pushes you back over the desk. You moan at the harsh way his fingers dig into your vulva. “Letting us use this office to fuck is the least your job can do for us after keeping us apart so fuckin’ long.”

It’s true – you’ve been entertaining clients for the past few weeks around the clock. Your support gear agency is about to be part of a big merger with Katsuki’s hero agency. The two of you met two years ago at a company event long before the merger was in the works, and have been fucking ever since. You think the two of you might be in love with each other, but you’re both too stubborn to say.

Katsuki pulls over your desk chair and makes himself comfortable, unzipping his pants as he sits back in the ergonomic leather chair. He pulls out his cock and gives it a few strokes before motioning for you to join him.

“Come here, babe. Have a seat on this hard cock.” He grabs your hips and pulls you backwards towards him.

“Wait – Kats! I don’t have a condom.” You look over your shoulder at him apologetically. He looks so handsome and too hot to be allowed, sitting in your chair with his cock out. His fingers dig into your hips.

“Don’t you usually have ‘em in your bag?” He says in a rough voice, eyes darting around the room in search of your purse.

“We used the last one at that client dinner last month, I’ve been meaning to restock.” If there’s one thing you and Katsuki love, it’s a quick fuck at a work event.

“Fuck.” Katsuki curses under his breath. He rubs his hands up and down your sides as he thinks through his next move. “Well, good thing I’ve got good reflexes. I’ll just try to pull out before I cum in ya.”

“Wait ! What-”

But you can’t even get a full sentence out before he pulls you back and onto his cock. All thoughts are erased from your mind as you feel his hard tip catch on your entrance and slide smoothly inside you. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he has you bouncing in reverse cowgirl on his dick. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his raw cock press against your sweet spot. You throw your hands out in front of you and clutch at your desk for support.

Turns out Kastuki’s overselling his supposed “good reflexes.” He at least has the decency to look abashed when he cums inside you five minutes later. He doesn’t even try to pull out. He’s selfish that way, shoving his cock as deep inside you as he can and letting your pussy milk him dry.

Within minutes of spilling his seed inside of you he’s back on his feet, zipping up his jeans and striding out your office door to go back to his agency for patrol. He venmos you some money to cover a pack of Plan B and a fresh pack of condoms at the convenience store down the block.

Kirishima x Reader 🦈❤️

Eijiro is slowly sliding your panties down your legs, looking at your pussy like it’s paradise on Earth. He's leaning in to touch you, whispering sweet affirmations as he caresses your bare legs. He looks absolutely heaven struck, when all of a sudden a look of horror washes over his face.

“What is it Eij!?” you say in a panic, worried that something is deeply wrong with your boyfriend. He groans in response and sits back on the bed, running a big hand through his bright red hair in frustration.

“Y/N, I forgot to buy condoms! They were on my grocery list and I totally spaced.”

Eijirou always insists that a gentleman’s job is to provide suitable protection, so he has always been the procurer of safe sex products.

“I’m sorry, babe. Do you have any backups?” He peers up at you hopefully and you bite back a laugh. He looks like a desperate puppy when he gives you those kinds of looks with his big crimson eyes.

You lean over to rifle through your bedside table. “Sorry, Ei. Looks like I’m fresh out of wrappers.”

Eijirou lets out a grumble. But by the time you look back up at him, he’s sporting a wicked shark-toothed grin.

“That’s okay – a real man can satisfy his girl with whatever he has on hand. And I know from experience that my tongue can do a pretty fine job.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken and you barely have time to register what he means before Eijirou Kirishima is diving in between your thighs.

---------------------------------

Thanks for reading!!

Read more Spicy Fics via my 🔥My Master List 🔥

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | prohero!reader x prohero!Dynamight; fluff, confessing, swearing (cuz it's bakugou lol)

a.n; I didn't want to let this day finish without writing something for him, even if it isn't birthday related. hope you enjoy it the same!🧡

Happy Bakugou Day💥

A grunt leaves your mouth when the incessant banging on your front door finally wakes you up, “I’m coming!” you yell, yet the banging doesn’t stop.

With a deep breath, you pull the covers away and get up. You give a peek towards the clock on your bedside table before sleepily running towards the annoying knocks. It’s fucking 5 a.m.… Who the hell could be this awake to make such a noise at this hour?

You pull open the door a bit forcefully, clearly annoyed.

Bakugou Katsuki stands there, a hoodie concealing his person and a black mask over half of his face that also helps the disguise. All big and bulky, almost the size of your door, looking delicious, as always. Fuck, you’re still in the slumber of sleep if you’re allowing this thoughts of him in your mind, in front of him.

He rips the mask down so he can say, well, bark in annoyance, “It’s fucking ridiculus!”

It’s a yell. At five in the morning.

He stomps inside your apartment like he owns it, and you snort a bit while closing the door, “Well, good and aggressive morning to you too, buddy.”

“No, you don’t fuckin’ get it…” He sounds desperate and annoyed beyond his own comprehension, pulling off the hood that’s over his head and walking from side to side in your small living room.

You frown, arms crossing over your chest, and keep silent. He doesn’t look at you as he walks back and forth, his hands opening and closing in fists at his sides.

“It’s fucking ridiculus! You are fucking ridiculus!”

You sigh, a hand sliding through your face. You’re still too sleepy for this right now. “How it’s my fault—”

“No, shut up! I’m fucking trying— It’s just annoying and ridiculus and, and… agh!,” the growl he lets out would have been considered drop-panties if it wasn’t for the annoyance you actually feel at the moment.

However, you decide to take another deep breath. It’s Bakugou Katsuki; this is not the first time you have witnessed a scene like this one, where he doesn’t know how to put into words what he’s feeling.

Being friends with this grumpy mountain for years already has taught you how to deal with him 90% of the time. The other 10%... well, that’s when Midoriya becomes your fairy godmother and saves the day. But even though you don’t know what's going on right now with Bakugou, you decide to wait a bit before calling Izuku-Godmother.

He keeps walking, fuming with stress and nerves. And you wait. That has always been Izuku’s advice. “Wait until he feels completely ready to say whatever he needs to say”.

There has been a moment in life —you honestly don’t know when that moment has been— in which Bakugou decided that you were worthy of trust, of him feeling completely okay in talking his mind out in your presence. Not that the bastard hasn't done that before, he has always been blunt and direct in his words since the very first day you met. But now, he also spoke about his feelings and troubles, and whatever went on his mind to you. He trusted you. He trusts you with his life, and you know that. Being partners in the same Pro Hero agency for years has given both of you that kind of relationship. One where you could also trust in him and tell him anything, and he’ll try and help you with whatever you need, after speaking his opinion out, even the bad ones.

Right now, you can’t quite sense whether whatever he needs to tell you is good or bad. So again, you simply wait.

As you watch him come and go like a lion trapped in a cage, he suddenly walks directly at you. You aren’t afraid of him; you have never been, and that wasn’t going to start today. You trust him with your life, too. However, his sudden moves do surprise you. So as he walks forward at you, you walk backwards until you feel the wall on your back. Bakugou stands centimeters from you, body surprisingly close to yours. The only times he has been this close to you willingly have been during training times and fights with villains. He has always kept his distance. Yet, now, there’s barely space between you. He invades even your breath. Your senses. His towering form envelops everything.

And when your eyes travel up, directly at his, you feel your knees almost give up and succumb at the intensity in those ruby orbs. You feel trapped in them, completely at his mercy. Whatever he might ask of you, you would have complied, said yes. However, you weren’t expecting what he said next.

“It’s fuckin’ ridiculous how much I feel for you.”

You pull up an eyebrow, a bit confused. He groans, shaking his head.

“You are in my fuckin’ head all the time. I can’t— Fuck! I can’t go to sleep without knowing you’re home and okay. I can’t even fuckin’ start my day without knowing you have already had your stupid breakfast!” Now, your eyebrows are pulled up in surprise, but you stay quiet and listen to him. “I can’t concentrate on my missions if I know you’re somewhere else on yours, because I need… Damn it! I need you by my side. Need to know you’re safe.” 

He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, before saying, “It’s fuckin’ ridiculous how much I need you.”

“Katsuki—”

He growls, exhaling the breath he just took in, as if he has just been punched in the guts, legs giving in a bit, and forehead pressing against yours as his eyes close. “No. Don’t say my name like that… I’m— I feel… ridiculously weak.”

His left forearm rests over the wall as his body presses closer, if that’s even possible. But it is. His breath collides against your face and mixes with your own. His smell surrounds all your senses, invading your head quite profoundly. And you can’t think of anything else that isn’t him.

How many times have you dreamt about this moment? How many fantasies in your head had him as the protagonist? You have definitely lost count already.

You still can’t believe that this is happening. That Bakugou Katsuki is actually confessing to you like this. Never in a million years could you have expected that this day would come.

That’s why the first thing you do after another moment of silence filled with loud breathing is touch him. You need to feel that this is real, that he is actually there and not a product of your imagination. Both your hands softly grab Katsuki’s face, fingers caressing the smooth, freshly shaved skin of his cheeks. Your left thumb finds his scar, and you trace its path delicately, caringly, lovingly. Yes, he is here. He is real. This is happening.

His breath trembles, just as his other hand travels to the back of your head to hold you. And it’s like that, how you have your first kiss with your long-time friend.

It’s not heated or passionate. Quite the contrary. It’s a feather-light touch of lips that made you feel warm and safe.

He pulls back just a bit to look at you, and the fire his eyes hold melts you completely. Because even though it is the first time your lips are meeting, you both immediately know that it won't be the last.

a.n.; aparently, i love making Bakugou appear at our doors in the midde of the night or early in the mornings LMAO i'm not stopping tho😌🌟🧡

[deeversuswords]

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥ AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥ TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — ~3.6k

a/n: Hi! Welcome to the start of my Go-Big-or-Go-Home project! After one year of toying with the idea, outlining, drafting, rewriting, and suffering, part 1 is finally leaving the box. All I'm gonna say is...this isn't a light read and the ride will be long and bumpy as hell, but I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did writing it (many tears were shed).

Enjoy!🧡

BREAKING: Truth Exposer returns! Is Nakamura Yui done for? In a shocking revelation, Truth Exposer shatters the carefully curated image of rising fashion designer Nakamura Yui. The vigilante accuses Nakamura of being behind the poor working conditions of her employees and using blackmail to silence them. It doesn’t stop there. The designs Nakamura claims as her own appear to belong to her manager. As always, the known vigilante backs the allegations with evidence, including a detailed report outlining Nakamura’s actions and possible motivations. The scandal continues to shake the fashion industry. Stay tuned for further developments.

“Remember the guy I’ve been seeing?” the woman in front of you asked her friend, staring at her phone screen.

Her friend gave her a smug look and giggled. “Your police officer boyfriend? Oh, I remember him. Are you finally official?”

The woman’s cheeks flushed pink. “Sort of. But that’s not important. He told me something interesting the other day. A rumor.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Apparently, Dynamight is on Truth Exposer’s case. For two years now. Isn’t that strange?”

“Dynamight?” Her friend’s reaction was loud enough to draw attention, prompting the woman to hush her with a finger firmly pressed to her pink-stained lips. “Sorry. That’s just shocking. No way it’s true.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He’d have caught that vigilante by now.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Don’t be so sure. My, uh, somewhat boyfriend said his superiors are growing restless because…” She looked around as if she was about to impart the secret of the universe. “There’s no evidence, it seems. Almost as if…”

“Truth Exposer doesn’t exist?” her friend offered.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her expression shifting to one of concern.

You stifled a yawn as your attention drifted from the chatty women to the rest of the ice cream parlor and rolled your shoulders. The ridiculously long queue was killing you with boredom. What were you thinking? Coming here on a Saturday evening in the middle of freaking July. Summer was in full swing, and the chase for its sweet treats manic. Unbelievable how you’d ignored that simple fact and acted on your cravings, gleefully skipping past every single convenience store and making a beeline through half the city to reach your current location.

Your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin, making your eye twitch in irritation and sheer disgust, but that was what you deserved when you stubbornly refused to satisfy the cravings with simple ice cream. Picky tongue demanded artisanal. Rich, intense, creamy flavors.

Among the locals, the location was popular, open during the summer months, and closed for the rest. Each year brought a new theme, and this time around revolved around tropical islands. The seashell pillars from last year were replaced with artificial palm trees, their long, wide green leaves holding the baby blue shaded ceiling with splotches of white cotton. The intention was for the fluff to resemble the peaceful clouds of a sunny sky, but to you, it looked like something met its tragic end.

And then there was the floor, beloved by many, hated by you—sand. Actual sand. Points for the clever idea of upping the authenticity, but that was where your generosity ended. Minuscule pebbles invaded your shoes the second you walked in, and the constant sensation of something poking into your feet every time you stepped drove you mad. The beach was where it belonged, next to the ocean, not in your ice cream parlor.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and carried your visual exploration to the ice cream display. Fruity aromas escaped into the cool air, scenting the atmosphere with their sweet perfume. Delightful. If only your sense of smell was as average as everyone else’s. Your nose suffered from the notes of sweat, cheap cologne, and heated synthetic materials.

“What are you getting?” the woman from before asked her friend.

“One Tsukuyomi cup and one Pinky,” her friend responded, pointing at the mentioned pro heroes who were part of the lineup of themed ice cream flavors.

The woman’s expression turned judgmental. “Blackberries and bubblegum?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Your gaze landed on the two options when vibrant orange with black swirls tugged at your attention, and you could almost feel the arrogance of who was represented radiating off it. Your whole face scrunched up, because your silly stomach fluttered in anticipation of something you wouldn’t buy, even if the man himself paid you for it.

When it was finally your turn, the most pleasant smile slapped itself on your face as you pointed to the display, saying, “I’ll have everything you’ve got left of Dynamight’s ice cream.”

Everything stilled into awkward silence as the cashier blinked at you from behind the counter, his face flushing a faint shade of red. You blinked back, and smiled wider, confused about the reaction. What the hell was going on? Weren’t you clear in your wording? You said you wanted Dynamight’s ice cream.

Dynamight’s…ice…cream—

Shit.

“I mean, I’ll have everything you’ve got left of the Dynamight-themed ice cream,” you tried again, pretending your earlier request hadn’t sounded like you’d just asked for a different kind of ice cream. Although, if that was the color of his in-pants equipment, you'd probably book him an appointment with a doctor instead.

Defeated groans and whines saved you from the awkwardness, and you stole a glance at the group wanting a sweet piece of him as your fingers tapped to a random cheery rhythm on your thigh. Closing time was approaching fast, so restocking wouldn’t happen. You were terrible for robbing them of their dream, but pissing him off held much more appeal. So, so terrible.

“The ice cream comes with themed containers too?” you asked the cashier upon seeing your purchase stuffed into a container with the key pieces of his hero suit drawn on it.

“Yes,” the cashier responded, smiling back at you. “This year is special. The pro heroes themselves reviewed the products, and had the chance to participate in the process if they wanted.”

“Oh.”

Something told you Bakugou went all in. Put on the apron and the chef hat and the gloves, and dove hands first in the fresh ingredients. Checking the quality, tasting, and mixing, and probably swearing when things didn’t go his way. Images of him in a domestic role popped like inflated balloons in your head and sprinkled the authenticity of the situation over your synapses. Nothing about it was far-fetched, he was a married man and a father too.

Even though he kept his private life private, his wife had no problem sharing about it and praising him to the moon and stars for everything, including his incredible cooking abilities. Her husband this, her husband that. Your eyes rolled every single time you had the displeasure of hearing her. It was painfully obvious Bakugou didn’t appreciate her sentiment, but what was new?

So-called picture perfect couple, though not once did he publicly display a hint of affection. Not even one brief look full of love in her direction. You recognized fed up when you saw it, and he was already beyond that state.

Besides, he wouldn’t—

“Here you go, Miss.” The cashier interrupted the forbidden thought coming through. Forbidden for its smugness.

You paid for the ice cream and picked up the special bag it was packed in, designed to prevent the sweet treat from turning into melted mush. Then left the parlor, in denial about how satisfied you were with the purchase.

The street noise and its buzzing activity immediately assaulted your heightened senses, something you’d learned to appreciate in the past few years as it made the world much more interesting. Vivid colors, nuanced sounds, layered scents, pleasant textures, hidden tastes. Life was easier when you could sense the reminders of its worth in your experiences, just not in this moment. Your mind remained anchored to his existence and the dimming of the fire in his eyes with each passing month.

His last appearance, which wasn’t work-related but was clearly another PR move orchestrated by his wife, left you rather morbidly curious about the behind-the-scenes. It was a charity event, supposedly raising funds for research into the evolution of quirks, yet he looked like someone had blackmailed him into being there. You expected him to be interested, especially since his two-year-old daughter was slowly approaching the age where her quirk might manifest, but no—Bakugou’s expression remained frozen in a subtle scowl, his gaze vacant.

Trouble in paradise, maybe?

You scoffed. Who cared? Not you. It was none of your business.

The game was just that—a game. Disconnected from reality, impersonal.

Personal was finding a nice, quiet spot under the starry sky, preferably out of sight, where you could sit and satisfy your craving for something sweet and cold. That was what you needed, not putting Bakugou’s life under a microscope and critically examining it like a specimen.

He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Not as two people living in the same world, under the same sky, breathing the same air, anyway.

Quickening your pace, you navigated the crowd, grimacing whenever some sweaty stranger brushed against you, and stopped at the crossroad, squeezing your way into the front row. As the green light ushering the cars by illuminated the moving traffic and the rancid smoke rising from the exhaust, you debated between going left or right once you crossed. The decision was quickly made upon spotting the small park tucked between the buildings lining the two side streets flanking it.

No bench was occupied, marking it the perfect spot for your little adventure.

Red turned to green for pedestrians, forcing the traffic to halt, and you followed the flow of the crowd when the back of your neck pricked with alert. Your fingers tightened around the bag handles, adrenaline kicking up a notch in your veins. The urge to swivel around and inspect burned at the edges of your instinct, but you resisted.

If you were indeed being watched, or worse, followed, the dumbest thing would be to let them know you knew.

You strode forward, pretending nothing was wrong. As if the inside of your skull wasn’t ringing like a cathedral from the brutal reverberations of alarm bells rising in volume, with the biggest Run. Run. Run! sign on its altar, bathed in divine light.

What more signs did you—

An arm seized your waist and yanked you into a hard body.

“Keep walkin’,” a deep voice spoke, and the blood drained from your head.

Impossible. This wasn’t happening.

Panic exploded in your chest, and your fight-or-flight instinct roared to life. Your unoccupied hand clenched into a fist and struck with every ounce of your strength into his gut. A low grunt followed your retaliation, drawing the attention of the crowd. You didn’t stick around for more.

You ripped yourself from his hold and burst into a sprint that would put him to shame, mentally cursing your luck. Or maybe it was fucking karma for buying that stupid ice cream. Speaking of, you hurled the bag in a random direction. Someone screamed as it flew through the air before hitting the pavement with a thud.

No indulging today—only running for your life to escape the hound currently hot on your heels.

Free of the dead weight, you skidded around the corner onto the side street, gritting your teeth as you sprinted faster. Your shoes pounded the ground, nearly drowning out the sound of his footsteps, which were closer than expected. You risked a glance over your shoulder and locked eyes in a brief, yet overbearingly intense connection with the red gaze fixated on you. Oh, joy. Your heart jumped into the first rocket and shot for the moon overhead.

Think. Think. Think.

“Screw this.”

In a moment of absolute recklessness, you bolted into the sparse traffic just as a car approached. Honks blared. Tires screeched. Death’s chilly claws scraped down your sweaty back. You hopped onto the hood of a car and slid over the heated metal to the other side, safely.

“Are you fuckin’ insane?!” His rage ripped through the humid air, bringing it to a paralyzing boil with a boom so loud you felt the shockwave shove you forward.

And then you were hauled off your feet and slammed face-first into the tall shrubbery fencing the park you’d wanted to enjoy that evil ice cream in. Heavy panting consumed your hearing as steely arms banded around your body, locking your arms in place, their muscles made of something that couldn’t be human. Rigid with power and strength.

“Goddamn it, woman. You’re a handful,” he panted in your ear, the rough rasp of his voice sending a very, very inappropriate shiver down the length of your body pressed against his front.

“Explains why your hands are so full,” you quipped, sarcasm the sin you shouldn’t have committed with the man who ate it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His coiled arms constricted around your ribs, expelling a gasp from your lungs amidst the heaving breaths. “I didn’t peg you for a ribs-breaker, Dynamight,” you spat his hero name.

“You’re a slippery one, so gotta hold on tight, Truth Exposer.” He spat yours in return.

Laughter wheezed out of your mouth. “Who? Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

“That the card you wanna play?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. C’mon. We ain’t havin’ that talk here.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere with you.” You jerked in his harsh embrace, and squirmed like a worm on a hook, trying to escape the gaping maw of a hungry fish, growling, “Let me go. You can’t just randomly restrain someone. It’s power abuse, assho—hero!”

Despite your continuous protest he clearly didn’t give a fuck about, Bakugou dragged you away from the street, struggling and kicking, into the dead-end alleyway behind the park. He shoved you toward the wall, next to a dumpster buzzing with flies, and you managed to catch yourself in time before your face made contact with the filthy concrete.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you dry-heaved a few times from the rotting smell of garbage, having been under the scorching sun for more than a day. Whatever the hell was in there had been triple-cooked and extra ripened.

“Can punch, but can’t handle a little bit of stink?” he mocked, and you whirled on him, glaring fiercely.

“If I puke, I’m puking on you. How’s that for a little bit of stink?”

One side of his mouth quirked into a cocky grin that had your earlier panic morph into an irrational urge to wipe it off his face. Your hands clenched into trembling fists, nails biting into your palms.

“Don’t. You had your shot,” he said, his arms crossing over his chest, muscles flexing with the motion. “Be smart. Accept that you can’t win and let’s have a nice little chit-chat, yeah?”

Your brows lifted as you leveled him with a hard stare. Sweat slid down his temple, some dripped from that high bridge of his nose and onto his parted lips, and it was those beads you followed the descent of. They gathered on his chin and dripped on his veiny forearms before splattering on the ground at its feet.

Of course, the bastard was dressed to show off, even when he was out hunting... for you. Tank top and shorts so randoms could drool over his biceps and strong legs? Check. Custom-made cap to hide his identity? Check. Latest trendy sneakers? Check. You’d bet half your fortune his underwear was expensive too, probably tight over his ass and...

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Still, against better judgment, your eyes lingered on the cut of his body, taking note of everything that mattered. Bakugou could snap you like a twig if he wanted to. So could you—mentally, at least. One touch, poisoned with ill intent, and he’d drop like a felled tree. Brain stunned. Nerves fried. Unable to scream for help, or beg for death.

If only you could muster that intent toward him.

Gaze bouncing back up to his, you felt your composure stumble. His own roved over you, slow and deliberate, like a teasing touch. As if memorizing you was the sole reason he existed. Your heart skipped, tiny kicks against your ribs. Traitorous little bitch. Your senses too; they completely zeroed in on him.

Steps away, yet his cologne suddenly overpowered the putrid stench around you. Spiced heat, tangled in notes of something that was naturally him. He smelled…good. Good enough to cloud your judgment and weaken your knees.

Would he taste the same?

No. Stop. Your moral compass shuddered. He was your ticket to confinement. And a married man.

“Chit-chat about what?” You aimed for a steady voice; what came out was breathy.

He didn’t hesitate. “You’re Truth Exposer. The biggest pain in my ass for the last two years.”

Bakugou stalked forward. You stepped back. Forward. Back. Again and again, until the ridged concrete wall halted your retreat. Distance didn’t seem to exist in his mind where you were concerned.

Shouldn’t he be more cautious? He barely knew anything about you, let alone the extent of your quirk. Officially, it heightened your five senses to an overstimulating, terrifying degree—all of them, or whichever you chose. You never bothered to update the information at the Quirk Registry and had no intention of doing so.

“So you say. Proof?” You flicked your gaze to the alley opening, tracking the occasional passing car while listening for sirens. Nothing. A slow smile played on your lips. “No police?”

“Nah. Can drag your stupid ass to ‘em myself.”

“Then why aren’t you?” You snapped your fingers near his face, taunting. “Ah, right. Because there’s a difference between thinking someone did something bad and suspecting them based on proof. You, Dynamight, have a little problem with the second, don’t you?”

His palm slammed above your head as he leaned in, warm breath tickling your lips. “Backhanded admission?” He scoffed. “Cocky little shit. Think you’re gettin’ out of this?”

“Unless you can back up your assumptions, yeah.” You stepped closer, erasing the last bit of space between you, your voice fading to a whisper. "Breaking news: Pro Hero Dynamight detains a civilian on baseless suspicions. Has dropping four rankings finally pushed him to cross the line in hopes of climbing back up?”

Low, rumbly chuckles spilled from his lips and onto yours. You blinked, taken aback by the pleasant sound and his open amusement, barely registering his fingers grasping your jaw. “Like I give a shit about my ranking when I found you. Now all I gotta do is follow your scent and wait for you to slip. Once you do that, I’ll be right there punishin’ you for it. Wanna guess who’ll shoot up in the rankings after?”

You stared at him for another beat before you jerked your head away, grimacing. “Following my scent? What are you, a dog?”

“Worse.”

“A stalker, then?”

Bakugou never got the chance to respond. His phone rang, blasting the most obnoxious sound in existence. Clicking his tongue, he fished it out of his shorts, gaze locked on yours, daring you to move. He snapped at the caller.

“This better be important. I’m busy.”

Being this close made you into an involuntary participant in the conversation. Bless your hearing, or curse it.

“You need to come home. It’s about your wife. And Yua,” the woman on the other end urged. His mother?

He instantly straightened. “Is my kid okay?”

“She’s fine, but come home.” Her voice sounded exhausted.

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, and your expression shifted into surprise. Shouldn’t he be running already?

“I caught her with another guy. What do you think, Katsuki? Can it wait?” Her tone suddenly whipped at the air through the speaker.

Another guy? Your mouth dropped open. His wife cheated on him? That wasn’t something you ever expected to hear.

“On my way.” He ended the call, pocketing his phone, and the weirdest thing happened.

When someone learned of their partner’s betrayal, there’d be hurt, anger, disgust; neither was present anywhere on him. Bakugou was either an expert at hiding his emotions, or something else was going on.

“Have fun sleepin’ with one eye open.”

He flicked your forehead, then jogged out of the alley, leaving you gawking at his retreating form, hand smacked over the stinging spot.

What the hell? And was that excitement you noticed in his eyes for a second before they left yours?

Ridiculous. In what world would he be excited about—

Your breath hitched. Was Bakugou waiting for something like this? For a reason to…end his marriage? Why?

Curiosity wrapped dangerously around your racing heart, and you shook your head. “Not my business.” It wasn’t. What he did, with whom, where, how. His life, in general, was not your business. “Move on. Pretend none of this happened. You didn’t hear. You didn’t see. You didn’t feel.”

Silence descended over the dead-end alley like a heavy mantle, fabric made out of secrets and denied truths. Each gone moment was more oppressive than the last. Your defenses asphyxiated under the pressure. Cracked. Loosened your self-control.

Weakness clawed to the surface.

You slapped your cheeks lightly a few times. You needed to remember why you had to stay far, far away from him. Somehow, he found you, putting your freedom at risk.

Your options took priority, your life, not his. Never…his.

The reason you spaced out, staring at the alley’s entrance, at the spot you’d last seen him, wasn’t the foreboding feeling creeping inside you; it was the unknown of your next move.

[sunnystaytiny2018]

~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki Bakugo

~~~~~~~~~~~

Fandom: MHA

Pairing: Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Smut

POV: 1st Person

Additional Tags: Alcohol induced sex, ex sex, toxic relationship, toxic sex, name calling (bitch, slut, whore, Bastard), jealous sex, feral sex, public sex,

——————————————————————

I was dancing against a guy in the club, tipsy as hell. I used to be dating the one of the top two three heros, Katsuki Bakugo since our Junior year of high school, but later on I realized we were toxic. Even though we loved each other and we very much were attracted to each other, it was clear it wouldn't work in the long run. So… I left him and boy did it make me a mess. I mean, look at me.

For the most part, I drowned myself into my job as a pro hero and then drowned my sorrows in alcohol and other sex partners. But no one was as good as Katsuki Bakugo. No one could satisfy me the way he did, even when sex with him was rather intense. He would go for a long time, until I was sore and aching. I would cum multiple times before he would.

My eyes widened in surprise when I yanked from the guy I was currently buttering up. He was going to be my prey for the night. I was being dragged through the crowd but I couldn't quite make out with who it was. It wasn't until I was pushed up against the wall and came face to face with his jealous filled red eyes.

“So this is what you've been fucking doing since we broke up, huh bitch?” Bakugo demanded and I looked at him, still in a hit of a haze. I hadn't seen him face to face since our break up. Sure there were a few group missions but other than that we haven't seen each other, and we kept it professional.

“So what, Katsuki? I can do whatever the fuck I want, we aren't together anymore.”

“I don't give a fuck, I don't approve.”

“I don't need your approval, dad!” I shot back and his eyebrows deepened.

“Don't fucking act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don't still make you feel something. Like your pussy isn't clenching right now because I'm the only man who can satisfy you. You were quite the whore when we were together. You were always asking for more.” My face flushed in embarrassment. “You still want me.”

“Like hell I do!”

“Oh really?” He asked as he gave a quick brush of his palm between my legs, feeling my drenched underwear. “Ha, look at that. Already wet.”

“Yeah, because I was dancing with someone who I was planning to fuck! And you just took me away from him!”

“Don't lie, you know you want me.”

“Not anymore.” I told him as I tried to walk away from him, he grabbed my wrist and pushed me back against the wall, this time my front against the wall. “If you really don't want me, tell me to stop them.” He breathed in my ear as he pressed his body against me. Just the feeling of him was making my body react and burn hot.

“Fuck you.”

“That isn't saying stop.” He replied as he reached under my skirt and pushed my underwear aside. I pressed my lips together as a soft gasp almost escaped my lips and he hadn't even really touched me yet. A moan quickly escapes when he pushes a finger inside me. “Fuck, it so wet and hot. Just for me.”

“I've been wet for plenty of other people.” I snapped at him but he quickly curled his finger, silencing me into a whimper.

“Not this wet though, I bet. Has anyone been able to satisfy you like me? Hmm?” He asked as he continued to brush that one spot that made me see stars. “Answer me.”

“No.”

“No, what? No, no one has been able to satisfy you like me? Or no, you won't answer?”

“Fuck!” I whimpered out as he thrusted a second finger in.

“You know, something I will never forget is your pretty legs…” He growled in my ear as I could hear the slippery wet sound his fingers were making, thrusting in and out of me. I gripped to the wall as my legs trembled. “Especially when they were wrapped around me, begging for more.”

“You won't get that now.” I growled and he just smirked.

“Whatever you say.” He replied as he sank his teeth into my neck. My body shuddered and released onto his fingers. “See, look at that.” He said smugly as he pulled his hand from between my legs and showed me his soaked hand. I bit my lip, angry with myself for wanting more. “This doesn't look like you don't want me anymore. Your mouth says one thing… but your body is certainly begging for more.”

“Stop it, you bastard.” I said as I tried to squirm away again. He flipped me with my back against the wall and our lips mere inches away. Our breath mingled before we went for a furious kiss. My hand tangled in his hair as we kissed against the wall.

“Are you sure?”

“Shut up.” I told him before kissing him again. He catches my bottom lip between his teeth and nics it. Pain welled up on my lip but he quickly licked it away. He always knew how to get me going. It was irritating because most of the time it made it hard for me to resist him. One of the reasons our relationship was so toxic. It's hard loving someone you fight with 23/7. He brushed his fingers against my pussy again and began to rub my clit. “K-Katsuki ~” I moaned and he smirked in satisfaction as I did so.

“I know you miss me. Stop pushing me away.” He told me as he pressed our foreheads together while my mouth was open in a silent moan. At this point, I couldn't deny it. I did miss him. Not just because of the sex but just being with him.

He cupped his hands behind the back of my knees and lifted me up against the wall. I gasped in surprise, not because I was surprised he lifted me, but because it was sudden.

“I miss you too, you know?” He panted as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. “I need to have you.” He growled in my ear as he pushed my skirt up. He pressed his tip against my entrance and I trembled at the feeling. He pushes in and I gasp at the stretch. My head slammed against the wall as a low moan escaped my lips. “Fuck, you feel as good as I remember.” His words cause me to shudder. “It almost feels better than I remember…” He groaned. He slowly picks up the pace until he was hitting the deepest part inside of me.

“Hnnn K-Katsuki~” I moaned out despite my best efforts. That made him snap his hips faster.

“Tell me you like it, whore.”

“I like it! So much!” I moaned out.

“Fuck yeah, you're sucking my cock in, I can barely pull out.” He growled. His hand moved between us and he began to finger my clit.

“Ah! Wait! I'm close!” I gasped out as my body trembled in pleasure.

“Cum for me then, come on bitch.” He smirked as he continued to thrust into me and rub my clit. “Cum!” He demanded and my body released the bodily fluids, wracking my body with an insane orgasm. He lets out a loud groan from my pussy gripping him, quickly making him bust. He proved once more that he was superior in every way compared to other men.

Once I recovered I quickly unwrapped myself from around him and got down. I quickly fixed my dress and smirked.

“Don't get the wrong idea. We aren't getting back together.” I said with a glare before turning away. I began to walk but stumbled a few times due to my quivering legs.

“Same time, same place?”

“Fuck no.”