you left him before. can you leave him again with a baby on the way?
synopsis: divorcing a stubborn dickhead like Ryomen Sukuna was probably the most difficult thing you ever had to do. but what were you supposed to do when your husband had practically become a stranger considering most days he spent more time at work than he did at home? and when he was home, half the time he'd rather sleep on the couch than in your bed? you didn't hate him. but you didn't love him anymore either. maybe you would have moved on. but when one last night together ends up with more than just a memory after you get two little lines on a pregnancy test, you discover you might not be able to get rid of him after all.
pairing: ex-husband!sukuna x pregnant!reader (also featuring best friend!geto)
content: mdni, smut and angst, some domestic fluff, divorced-to-remarried, complicated relationships, messy feelings, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy sex, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral sex, pining, so much regret, misunderstandings, breaking up and making up, gruff and grumpy sukuna who misses his wife, soft geto trying to steal her from him, more tags in individual chapters
a/n: lovely art by @winterrbluess !! part of my community event <3
Synopsis: Katsuki Bakugo slowly realizes he has feelings for his quiet, observant best friend and absolutely hates how warm it makes his chest feel until he finally snaps and confesses.
Word Count: 3,510
He’s not sure when it happened.
One day you were just the quiet girl in class who didn’t talk much and somehow never pissed him off. Then suddenly you were the person he kept ending up next to after training, or the one he’d sit near during study periods, or the one he’d catch himself looking for in a crowd without meaning to.
He tries not to think about it too hard.
He refuses to think about it, actually.
Right now you’re both stretched out in the grass behind Heights Alliance, the place you always wander to after sparring. It’s quiet back here. No idiots yelling, no Kaminari messing around, no Kirishima trying to drag him into arm wrestling contests.
Just wind, sunlight, and you sitting close enough that your knee almost touches his.
He’s pretending to watch the clouds. He’s actually keeping half an eye on you, because you look… peaceful out here. Way more peaceful than anyone who goes to UA has any right to be.
His wrist burns a little. He twitches it out of habit, hoping you won’t notice.
You notice immediately.
“You should put something on that,” you say without even looking at him.
He snaps his head your way. “It’s fine.”
“It’s getting red.”
“It’s always red,” he shoots back.
You ignore his attitude, reach into your pocket, and hold out a packet of burn gel. Not the cheap stuff either. The exact brand he likes.
He stares at the packet.
Then at you.
Then at the packet again.
“How the hell do you always know,” he mutters.
You shrug. “I just do.”
He grabs it with a huff, but the second he rubs it on, the sting fades. His shoulders relax a little even though he tries to hide it. He hopes you don’t notice.
You definitely do.
“Thanks,” he mumbles. It’s barely audible.
Your smile is tiny but real. “You’re welcome.”
His chest does that weird tight thing again. He hates it.
He ignores it.
---
It gets worse after that.
Two days later he’s walking back from training, exhausted but trying to look like he isn’t. Before he can even reach for a drink, you step up beside him, holding out a water bottle.
“Here.”
He frowns. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“You looked thirsty.”
“I’m not thirsty,” he snaps.
He’s very thirsty.
He opens it immediately and drinks half of it in one go. The liquid hits him perfectly. He pretends that’s why he suddenly feels warmer.
Then there’s the homework incident. He’s hunched over his studying like he’s trying to fight the paper, and you walk past, pause, then gently tap between his shoulder blades.
“You’re slouching.”
He jerks like you electrocuted him. “I’m not slouching.”
“You’re gonna hurt your back,” you say simply.
Before he can tell you to mind your business, you lightly press his shoulder again, almost guiding him upright. The touch is warm. It lingers longer than it should.
He feels heat crawl up his neck.
He adjusts his posture even after you walk away.
And then there’s the knee situation. He overused his quirk during a long drill and it’s messed with his joints again. He doesn’t limp. He’d die before limping.
You sit across from him at breakfast, look at him once, and say, “You hurt your knee.”
He stiffens. “No I didn’t.”
Your eyes soften a little. “It’s okay to rest sometimes.”
He grips his fork too tight. “I said I’m fine.”
You don’t argue. You just stay quiet beside him, giving him company he didn’t realize he relied on.
And his chest does that tight, annoying thing again.
He hates it even more this time.
---
He doesn’t realize how far gone he is until one morning in class.
You’re just sitting at your desk, doing nothing special. You tap your pencil twice before writing. You tuck your hair behind your ear without noticing. You chew your lip when you’re focusing.
He notices all of it.
He notices too much.
And then it hits him right in the gut.
Oh hell.
He likes you.
Not in that casual, “you’re cool to hang out with” way. Not in the “we’re good friends, I guess” way. He likes you in a way that makes his heartbeat pick up every time you look at him. In a way that makes him want to punch Kaminari for talking too loudly near you. In a way that makes him want to fix things for you before you even say anything.
He almost knocks his chair over trying to face forward.
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
He refuses to have a crush.
He refuses to feel whatever this is.
He is Katsuki Bakugo. He does not get stupid romantic feelings. They’re impractical and annoying and distracting.
He spends a whole week telling himself he imagined it.
It does not work.
Especially not when he catches himself staring at you during study time.
You’re just quietly flipping through your notes and he’s staring holes through the page in front of him because he can’t stop glancing at you every three seconds. When you look up, his whole body jolts.
“Katsuki?” you ask.
He snaps, “What?”
“You’re staring.”
“No I’m not,” he blurts. “Don’t say weird crap.”
You blink at him, confused but not offended. “I was just saying.”
He can’t take it anymore. His nerves are buzzing. His chest feels tight. He feels like he needs to shout or explode or run or something, anything.
He stands up so fast his chair screeches across the floor.
“We’re taking a walk,” he growls.
Your eyebrows lift. “We are?”
“Yes. Come on.”
You follow without question. That makes it worse somehow. You always trust him too easily, like you don’t realize he’s two seconds from blowing up at his own emotions.
He walks you behind the dorms, the place where everything always feels too quiet. He stops. He doesn’t turn around right away. He tries to breathe like a normal person. He fails miserably.
“Katsuki,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he mutters.
He forces himself to turn. His hands are shaking. His face feels too hot. He’s never been this nervous in his entire life.
“Alright,” he says, pointing at you like you’re an accomplice in a crime. “I’m gonna say somethin’ and you’re not allowed to make it weird.”
You blink. “Okay.”
“And you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“And you’re definitely not tellin’ anyone or I’m gonna blow something up.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“And you can’t look at me with that face you do when you already know things.”
“What face?”
“That face,” he snaps, waving wildly. “The one you always do on purpose.”
You look confused, which somehow makes him more irritated.
You take a breath. “Katsuki. Just tell me.”
His heart is trying to beat out of his ribs. His throat tightens.
He blurts it all out in one breath.
“I like you.”
The world stops.
Your eyes widen a little.
He panics.
“I like you a lot. More than I should. You’re quiet and you don’t piss me off and you notice every stupid thing about me and it makes my chest feel weird and I don’t know what the hell that means or what I’m supposed to do with it.”
He sucks in a breath, too deep, almost shaky.
“I didn’t wanna mess anything up. You’re the only person who actually gets me. And I hated keepin’ it in. And I hated feelin’ it even more. But I do. I like you.”
You stare at him for a beat.
Then you step forward, grab the bottom of his shirt gently, and tug him down just enough that he has to look at you.
“Katsuki,” you say softly. “I like you too.”
He freezes.
“You what.”
“I like you.”
“You like me.”
“Yes.”
“For real.”
“Yes.”
He blinks hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You stare at him like the answer is obvious. “Why didn’t you?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because shut up,” he mutters, cheeks burning.
You laugh a little. The sound is quiet, soft, warm. It hits him like a punch straight to the sternum.
He doesn’t move away when you step closer, your shoulder brushing his. He swallows hard because he thinks touching you might actually kill him.
“So,” you say gently. “What now?”
Something in him settles.
For once, he doesn’t overthink it. He reaches out, grabs your hand, and squeezes it tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“We figure it out,” he says, voice low but firm.
You squeeze back, just as sure.
His chest does that warm twisting thing again.
This time he doesn’t hate it.
He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.
clingy bf!sukuna...who swears that he is anything but clingy until he meets you.
clingy to the point where he follows you to the bathroom, keeping you company whilst you take a bath or a shower.
'Sukuna get out.'
'No I gotta piss.'
'You said that fifteen minutes ago and you're still here.'
'Gotta make sure you don't drown or something, you would do some stupid shit like that.'
'Gee thanks.'
also bf!sukuna being clingy to the point where he hangs around the kitchen whilst you cook or clean, following you around just to piss you off.
sukuna being clingy to the point where if you even move an inch off the couch whilst watching a movie, he immediately pauses the screen and asks you where you're going
'to get the popcorn obviously'
'oh.'
but the most clingy version of sukuna is when you wake up early in the morning and attempt to get ready for work.
keyword: attempt
it's like fighting a whole big cat similar to ones that you see in the zoo, sukuna's warm body trapping you in place underneath the sheets.
'i'm not doing this again with you sukuna...'
'mhmmmm.'
'i'm serious' you pinch his tattooed skin yet there's no reaction.
'm' serious too babe.' he groans. His eyes are closed with his pink locks messily arranged. His two hands wrap around your waist with nothing but security. 'you're not leaving.'
'I have a job, a commitment.'
'Is our marriage not a commitment?'
'we're not married 'kuna.'
There's a pause and for a second you think that Sukuna has fallen back to sleep.
Deku has a favour to ask of Bakugou, and he hopes you’ll be happy to oblige.
This is pretty much for Kitten idk😂😭
Warnings: 18+.
Word Count: 0.8k.
“You wanna what?” Bakugou sneers as he pushes his mask up onto his forehead, raising a brow. Completely positive that Deku hadn’t just asked him that question, there ain’t no fucking way—
“No, no, no, listen! I’ll pay you— and I just think it’ll be better with you both rather than a stranger.”
“And you think that’s a favour?” Bakugou grunts, “A favour is ‘Can you spot me?’ or ‘Can you give me a lift?’— not can I fuck your girlfriend?”
“No! I don’t want to fuck her—” A blatant lie, “I want to watch—”
“You want me to fuck my girlfriend—” Bakugou sounds on his tongue, as though that would make it make sense, “And you just wanna watch?”
“Um, well yeah.” The tips of Deku’s ears were burning crimson, tinted all the way across his cheeks as he felt his stomach knot.
After he was caught in a drunken fumble with an escort a few months ago, Midoriya had to be more careful about the company he kept. The story only failed to reach the local news outlets and social media thanks to his quick thinking HR team sending out a lengthy NDA, paired with a substantial payoff. Escorts, strangers online and Only Fans were now completely off limits. If the public found out about the Number One Heroes filthy little secret his entire image would be destroyed.
“So why not just go out and fuck a girl?” Bakugou snorts, “There’s gotta be thousands of women ready to get into the Number One’s pants.”
“It’s not just about that,” Deku flushes, trying to avoid Bakugou’s intense fiery gaze, “I like to watch—”
“So watch porn.” Bakugou scoffs, “I’m sure I’ve got plenty of fuckin’ videos on my phone that I can send ya— there’s one where I’ve got her in this posi—”
“No!” Midoriya cut him off, “I mean— I like when people are mean to me.”
Bakugou’s lips curled into a sinful grin at the realisation as he held his phone in his hands, staring down at his former school friend, “You like being degraded huh? You sick freak.”
Midoriya bit back a groan as he felt his pants tighten at the brash tone, his cock pulsing beneath the tough fabric as he shifted from foot to foot.
“And what makes you think she’d even agree to it, hah?” Bakugou knew you were more than comfortable trying out new kinks and experiences in the bedroom with him, just last week you’d filmed a raunchy CNC sex tape after your date plans had been ruined by a torrential downpour. And you were more than happy for him to share some of the moments he filmed with his best friends— But this was inviting another man, a friend, into your most intimate moments together. Nowhere near the same as sending a quick thirty second video of you bouncing on his cock to Kirishima.
“Can you at least ask her?” Midoriya mumbles, “Please?”
“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou itches his nose with the back of his hand, “I’ll tell her what a sick fuckin’ freak you are, Deku.”
Midoriya was certain he could’ve creamed his pants from the condescending lilt to Bakugou’s voice as he grabbed his towel out of his locker, his stomach lurching as he thought about whether this was what his friend was like when he was with you. Watching Bakugou disappear behind the shower stalls as Midoriya finally chanced palming his throbbing cock for a moments relief, wincing when he felt just how wet with pre his boxers were as they stuck to his skin uncomfortably, moulding to his cock as he groaned in satisfaction.
Did Bakugou talk to you like this too? So full of spite and degredation— Did the same thing get you off too? Or was his voice soft and full of praise as he plowed into your sloppy cunt.
“Oi,” Bakugou shouted across the locker room as Midoriya laced his red trainers. He definitely couldn’t shower here, not now. He had to make it home— looking up to see Bakugou standing there with a towel slung low on his hips, a smirk on his face as he held his phone in the air. And Midoriya noticed he was on video chat with you, wondering whether Bakugou was talking to you while he was in the shower— “She said she wants to play your nasty little game, Deku.”
And here Midoriya was, not even forty-eight hours later. Sitting at the foot of your bed while Bakugou split you apart on his cock—
“She didn’t believe me when I told her, you know.” Bakugou sneers, a warm palm cupping your jaw to direct your debauched face to his friends green gaze, “Couldn’t believe that precious little Deku would be such a sick little freak.”
that trope where the villain says to the hero "we're not so different, you know" or something along those lines and it causes the hero to question themselves and their actions is premium angst material but personally if it was me i wouldn't be intimidated by that at all. if some asshole with low standards had the audacity to compare themselves to ME, it'd be all the motivation i needed to kick their ass.
soulmate au: the person can only see black and white until they meet their soulmate, then they’ll be able to see colour
warnings: none
if there’s one thing asahi hates hearing, it would be that he was lucky to have a soulmate.
he understands the idea. many people are envious or amazed at the idea that there are others who have their destined someone, the man or woman who would instantly fit into his life like the missing piece of a puzzle. it’s an awfully romantic idea, and honestly, asahi can get the appeal of having that special someone for yourself and eventually finding them.
what people often forget, or rather are blissfully ignorant of, is that people with soulmates are unable to perceive colours until they meet their counterparts. until they find that missing piece of their puzzle, they’d be bound to see the world in a dull monochrome, where the grey of the sea blend in with the horizon and the stars in the sky are nothing but small dots on a black canvas.
Hello. I was wondering if you'd write Asahi with an s/o who is studying in cosmetology and likes to practice braiding and styling his hair?
ᴀᴢᴜᴍᴀɴᴇ ᴀꜱᴀʜɪ ᴡ/ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜱᴍᴏᴛᴏʟᴏɢʏ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱ/ᴏ
Pairing: Azumane Asahi x Black!Fem!Reader
Genre: Headcanons
Synopsis: In which Asahi is subject to being his lovers mannequin head when they aren’t in cosmetology school.
Warnings: none
A/N: none
Asahi has always had a thing for having his hair played with. He knows how to take care of it on a basic level, but it's an entirely different feeling having someone else take care of his hair for him. So one can imagine the mild obsession he gets when he starts dating someone who’s going to school to actually do hair, amongst other things.
It took a moment to get used to - Asahi has finer hair than what you’re used to dealing with, but it's made up for by the level of thickness it has, so there is a decent amount of tugging and pulling here and there.
Not to mention, besides maybe his mom, no one else has ever been in his head, so he’s not sure what to do.
However, over time, Asahi starts to sink into the gentleness that your hands provide, as they rake through his mane like a comb. He finds himself yearning to sit between your legs when wash day comes around or when you have an assignment you need to practice for.
It’s almost addicting, really - the way you’re so tender with his head, the sweet and citrus-y smell of the products you use, and the little forehead kisses you give him to tell him that you’re done with your work.
He definitely rocks the different hair designs you give him around the house, especially the french braids. He gets worried going outside with the braids in, though, as he doesn’t want people to think he’s appropriating your culture, so if he has somewhere to go, he makes sure you take your pictures and everything before he takes them out.
With the amount of time you spend on his hair, he picks up a couple of tricks, and would love to return the favor - either on you or your child if you two decide to have one in the future. He wants them to be proud of their hair in whatever way it comes out, and he’ll try his best to be an example of that.
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