endlessly shoutos

lyssa | writer | she/her | 21 requesting and thirsting are [ closed ] | navi. | m.list | ko-fi | 18+ | minors dni

[burnedbyshoto]

I will love you (until the end of time)

“For the next twenty four hours, will you pretend that we’re still in love? That we’re still in a relationship and that it never ended?”

You ask for a moment more, and Bakugou Katsuki gives you a world more.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: they are pro heroes in this, reader is bad at feelings NOT bakugou, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, post break up fic, break up make up fic, smut, domestic!bakugou, missing tag

word count: 10,327

a/n: this stemmed out of my own commitment insecurities and my upmost appreciation for the character growth of bakugou katsuki who may not be my favorite character but holds the title for my favorite canon growth. here’s to him continuing to be feral but be a kinder man.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It’s a bright and sunny day.

There’s no one on the street, nothing to hear except the rumble of cars blocks away, nothing but the sweet chittering and chirping of spring birds calling and dancing for their love.

You inhale sharply, trying to calm your nerves, your wits — trying so desperately to reign in your million emotions while hiding what was so desperate to crack through the surface.

“Please, answer the door…” you whisper to yourself as your knuckles rap, tap, tap, tap, against the clean white door. Your fingers twist by your hips, turning and pulling as the seconds pass by like centuries.

One. 

Two. 

Three—

“Coming.”

His voice calls from behind the door, and you feel your spine straighten immediately, your stomach melting and bursting with butterflies you had long forgotten could exist. 

Your breathing picks up. It’s sharp, short, oxygen failing to fill your lungs as you stare at the opening door.

The first thing you see is tired, confused red eyes.

“K-Katsuki, hey! Nice seeing you here,” you greet him weakly, your lips pulled into an even weaker, more wobbly smile as you look at the man who once held your heart.

Bakugou blinks, his eyebrow furrowing a millimeter — something that would go missing by the untrained eye. It looks as if he’s contemplating what to do, trying to decide if he should slam the door in your face or keep it open. Sure, the two of you had dated for nearly five years, and Bakugou had clearly told you that you were it for him, but he was a prideful man. You couldn’t blame him if he simply slammed the door on you.

“I live here,” Bakugou says slowly, his arms crossing before his chest, and you laugh awkwardly as you try not to look at what was a damning distraction.

“Well, yes,” you say, nerves getting to you suddenly but in a way that makes you want to ramble. “It was stupid of me to say that! I just, well, I got nervous, and you know how I get at times, and I said it without thinking! You live here, duh! This is your house, why wouldn’t you live here! It’s just—”

“Spit it out, dork,” Bakugou sighs, his frown deepening as he rolls his eyes.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, you can feel tears welling in your eyes as you look to the floor.

Calm down; you can do this.

“I needed to ask you something, a favor, really.”

You look back up at him, and Bakugou seems to be digesting your words. 

“What do you need?” Bakugou decides to allow you to ask, and only one ton of your forty-ton problem falls off your shoulders.

“It’s… it’s going to sound really fucked, but don’t get mad,” you whisper, fingers running up your chest and clutching onto the chain around your neck. “Please don’t feel obligated to say yes either; I’ll take whatever answer you give me.”

“Y/n,” Bakugou stresses, and you shudder slightly.

Inhale for five. Hold for five. Exhale.

“For the next twenty-four hours, will you pretend that we’re still in love? That we’re still in a relationship and that it never ended?”

.

.

.

.

.

A cloud passes over the sun.

The birds stop dancing, the cars go silent.

It’s as if the entire world silences just for you and him, everyone anxious and eager to hear Bakugou’s answer. 

.

.

Your gaze is down at his feet. You miss the stiffening of his spine and the bewildered look in his eyes. But that’s okay; his answer is what matters most, anyways.

.

.

.

.

.

“I can do that.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

10:12 a.m.  – 24:00:00 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You toe off your shoes by the front door, leaving them next to Bakugou’s neatly placed loafers, and you slide on the guest slippers. You frown slightly at the stiffness of the slippers, but you realize that it’s because they’re not your old ones. The lavender-colored slippers that were once imprinted by your foot, fitting comfortably and perfectly against your feet, no longer resided within his shoe stand. 

“Your shift ran late last night?” Bakugou asks as you shuffle in after him. “Why’re you getting home so late?”

You blink, thrown off by that question.

You did have a late night shift yesterday, but on the contrary, you had been let off early, not late.

It takes a second, but you realize immediately what was happening.

The two of you had lived together for so long, and while the life of a pro hero came with timing issues, it involved some beautifully colorful stories the following day. You both recount why you arrived home midday and not at the crack of dawn. Just like old times, it seems.

You smile, mentally thankful that Bakugou was just that good at transitioning and keeping his promises. You take in a deep breathe, still yourself, and respond:

“It was the worst. A kid’s quirk came in, and they panicked; they nearly destroyed the entire block. No casualties, thankfully, but a few injured in the hospital. Full recovery is expected for everyone.”

“I’m surprised I wasn’t called in,” Bakugou hums, he is walking towards the kitchen, and you wonder if he’s already eaten breakfast. You should have brought his favorite food. “Who else was there?”

“You weren’t called in because your quirk would not be of assistance there,” you point out. Everyone knew full well that while Bakugou was a household name due to his sheer power and being number two on the hero charts alongside Deku, he was not made for search and rescue purposes. He’s been called in many times to help, but explosions paired with debris, broken infrastructure, and trembling civilians caused more trouble than help. 

Bakugou scoffs slightly, and you easily slip onto a high chair by the kitchen island, watching and feeling still a few embers of awkwardness as he seems to be preparing breakfast. A single meal for just him would now be for two. 

“Uravity was there, so was Hawks,” you begin listing names, trying to remember who was on the scene before your exit. “Aizawa-sensei, too, if you can believe it.”

“The lazy bastard is always around when things involve a quirk malfunction and a kid,” Bakugou supplies, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. Despite your old sensei being, well, akin to a grumpy hermit, there was always something unworldly kind and good about him with children. 

“Still, I feel like I hardly see him nowadays,” you pout, watching Bakugou grab two porcelain bowls from the shelves and pour in two steaming cups of miso soup. 

Your mouth waters as he turns around, placing the murky soup in front of you, there’s plenty of tofu, seaweed, and onions, and you wonder for a moment if he’s still on his bulking diet or not. You hum contentedly, gratefully, as Bakugou hands you chopsticks and another small bowl of white rice and egg. 

A simple breakfast.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your smile warm and soft as you grab the bowl and blow softly on the steaming soup.

“And you better eat everything in it,” Bakugou warns, his red eyes warm, his eyebrow quirked as he brings his own bowl up to his mouth. “If you leave anything behind, you won’t get lunch.”

You laugh, “okay!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

10:37 a.m.   –   23:45:39 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Breakfast was eaten quietly, the both of you merely taking in each other for the first time in a year. A shared breakfast that had been standard for nearly three years in a row was unfamiliar, foreign. Your gaze had fallen to the table, remaining fixated on the fluffy white rice and egg as you had eaten the miso soup in record time. Sure, your tongue now felt a little numb, a little too raw, but you had missed Bakugou’s cooking. Instant miso was nothing compared to his.

But breakfast has been finished for a bit over three minutes now, and neither one of you has spoken a word since. What would you talk about? What could you talk about? You weren’t sure if doing this was even a good idea! You were the one who ended things; you were the reason why things that were now happening were happening. Why couldn’t you just pretend as quickly as he was? It wasn’t as if you weren’t in love with him still.

Looking up at Bakugou, your lips pulled into a tense purse, your eyes boring holes into his back as he silently washes the dishes. White suds clinging to his forearms and soft ash blond locks brushing against the bridge of his nose. You want to walk over and press yourself to his backside, hold him sweetly as you complain about how he should wash the dishes later, and come to the couch and watch some dumb cartoon with you instead. You want it so badly, but there are lines still drawn in the sand, lines you don’t know how to erase even though for this moment, for the next few hours, they don’t exist.

‘Talk to him!’ you yell at yourself. ‘Talk!’

“Do you have any plans today?” Bakugou asks, his gaze not leaving the sink as he washes off the last porcelain bowl of the soap. “Today’s my day off, so we can do anything you want today.”

“U-Um,” you stumble immediately, flushing at the fact that he had beaten you to the first words. “No? I don’t think I have any plans?”

“Do you work?”

Your fingers pull at your lip in anxiety.

“No, today’s my day off, too.”

“Planning on hanging out with any of your friends?”

You hesitate, watching as Bakugou places the bowl on the drying rack and grabbing a towel to dry his toned arms from the water and soap remnants.

“No, I want this day to be with… I just want to be with you today.”

Bakugou pauses, and you watch as he turns around slowly, looking at you with contemplative eyes as he leans back against the sink. Strong arms never slowing in its mission to dry himself off, but they eventually part, the towel swinging up and over his shoulder, resting there as he crosses his arms again.

There are only a few feet between the two of you, but it feels like miles.

“A stay in sort of day?” he tries again; his blinks are slow, controlled. 

“Um, yeah, I guess,” you mumble, your gaze dropping from his, unable to keep the contact going.

“You guess?” Bakugou shoots back, his tone slightly aggravated, his brows furrowed incredulously as you look back up at him with wide eyes. He’s shoved himself off the sink and assumes an intimidating stance, and is just the slightest bit insecure. “You’re the one who came to my door asking for this. I assumed you had some sort of plan, especially since this seems like such a dumb idea, to begin with. I agreed to this, so do something; I’m not planning the entire day, and don’t waste my time.”

“I know that!” you argue back, tears burning at the back of your eyes because you knew that this was only a few minutes in but already going disastrously. But you couldn’t help it; you couldn’t stop things from getting weird and awkward. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say yes! I thought you were going to slam the door in my face or argue with me, not agree! A-And this is all so weird to me! I know I want you to love me, but there are lines in the ground, and I don’t know which ones can be crossed or not because I don’t want to over–”

Warm lips press against yours, and you feel the blood rushing to your head and down your back as all too familiar lips reach you. Bakugou’s hands are warm and big pressed against your hips, and his nose is pushed just a bit too roughly against your cheek, but it’s perfect. It shuts you up, erasing lines you had created in your head as your fingers twist into his hair. 

The kiss is almost hilariously innocent despite how roughly the both of you are pressing against each other. Lips without a home for far too long, desperate and overwhelmed at finally meeting yet again. 

He pulls away far too soon, and your eyes barely manage to open, something that makes you question when exactly you had closed it. You can’t see anything but Bakugou’s eyes. The brilliant red looks at you with that gleam of pride, the burning love in the red depths that thrilled and scared you. But it’s the uncertainty, the smallest amount of fear in the glazed-over red that makes your throat tighten.

“Wow,” is the only intelligent thing you can manage to say.

“You were rambling,” Bakugou gruffs, warm fingers curling around your cheeks. “It was annoying.”

“Should’ve known the only way to get you to break past the barrier was to start talking non–”

He kisses you again, and only this time, smiles bleed into the kiss.

.

.

.

.

.

.

12:11 p.m.  –  22:01:56 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

.

“That SUCKED!” you screeched, watching the transpiring final episode of an old show the two of you had watched together but never finished due to the break-up. “They really ended on that cliffhanger, and then the show got canceled?!”

“Yup.”

“How am I—? What am I—? I’m going to DM the show writers!”

“They won’t respond.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!”

“It’s been a year since it last aired; you don’t think people haven’t tried?” Bakugou groans slightly as you elbow his ribs in your mass scramble to grab your phone sitting at the end of the couch.

An apology leaves your lips; it was half formed, even less genuine as you looked up the creator’s name on the internet. But your scowl and total concentration disappeared the moment the search went through, and you saw the first article suggested:

HORIKOSHI K. REFUSES TO TELL THE REAL ENDING OF BNHA HERE’S WHY!

“No,” you whisper harshly, and you hear a snicker.

“Yes.”

“Katsuki, why didn’t you tell meee?” you whine, face pressing into his warm chest as his hands find themselves stroking up and down your back.

“Not my fault your dumbass didn’t listen,” Bakugou grunts as you grumble some more.

You pout, your head turning so that you pressed your cheek against his chest, your hand raising until your fingers grazed across his chest as well. You could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the soft thump, thump, thump you had once listened to daily. Sometimes it was because it was the only thing that grounded you, reminded you that you weren’t the only thing alive. Sometimes it was after passionate affairs, when his heartbeat would be scattered, unsynced, and totally, utterly imperfect that made something flip in your stomach. Sometimes it was to remind you that Bakugou was alive. That he wasn’t dead. That the injuries he came home with, the ones that made you cry and panic hadn’t killed him in his sleep.

Bakugou’s breathing was still, even. Your eyes continued to look at the handsome dip of his shirt, your finger tracing nonsense against his clothed skin. His warm hands sat on your hips, unmoving but firm. You wanted to look up but felt too hesitant to do it.

Unsure of what would be lost in those deep, dark, red eyes.

Love.

Fear.

Hope.

Rejection.

Acceptance.

Hate.

It could be anything, indeed anything at all.

“Hey,” Bakugou whispers, speaking low in his throat as if to not startle you. You feel heat-hardened fingers brush against the curve of your chin; it was a soft touch, a silent question lingering against the joined skin. “Look at me, dork.”

A shaky breath expels from your mouth, his fingers supporting your head as you tilt it up, but your eyes remain closed, not ready to release that final barrier.

Don’t crumble, don’t fall.

“Oi, calm down, I’m here,” Bakugou softly stresses, and goosebumps spark against your skin when his other hand touches your face again.

“I can’t calm down,” you whispered, voice high and strained, trying so desperately to not crack and break. “Not when things are like this.”

His thumbs pet your cheeks, and you lean into his touch, wanting to freeze time forever.

Let this last forever.

“There’s no reason to cry over the show,” Bakugou says intentionally. It draws your attention away from your actual worries and makes you focus on a lighter, less pressing issue. “You could always bribe the creator with a picture of your ass; I’m sure that’ll win him over.”

Your eyes snap open, and you smack your fist onto his chest, an embarrassed splutter staining your mouth. Bakugou is grinning fiercely, red eyes mirthful and untamed.

“That would be sexual harassment!”

“Harassment, my ass, he’d be so lucky to see it,” Bakugou laughs, hands sliding down to your waist as the incredulous look on your face only grows. 

“Bakugou Katsuki! You kiss your mother with that mouth?!”

“And I’ve eaten your pussy with it too.”

“KATSUKI!”

“We could add your ass to that list, too,” Bakugou smirks and rolls his eyes. He looks at your pout, and a devious grin spreads on his face. “And then I could say her-ass-meant the world to me.”

“I– What?! I’m going to– what on earth is wrong with you!”

“Nothing, I’m perfect.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’ve decided.”

“Kill me with that glorious ass of yours, will ya?”

“SHUT UP!”

.

.

.

.

.

3:31 p.m.  –  19:41:02 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

“I need the vanilla extract.”

“You don’t need the vanilla extract.”

“I am trying to do something creative, sir. We are trailblazers, not cattle sheep!”

“Putting it in will destroy the entire cake.”

“But we won’t know until we try!”

“I don’t care!”

So, the two of you liked baking together.

Despite what one may think, watching it from the outside, it was a great stress reliever for both of you. It worked almost the same as sex! It was to no one’s surprise that Bakugou was a great cook. Not only did he often feed most of your former class, but whenever there was a get-together, Bakugou would be in the kitchen alongside Sato and Midoriya. The former because no one had anything on Sato’s cooking side. The latter because he liked being involved and appreciating cooking soon after making candy apples for Eri.

But cooking was not the same as baking.

Cooking wasn’t nearly as messy, although it was as exceedingly complicated. There was no sugar under fingernails or flour highlighting every curve and shadow on your body. No icing dripping from spoons or crushed candy cane on the table.

Cooking was an obligation to living, be it homemade curry or microwavable ramen, but baking was a gift. Not nearly as needed, but far more greatly appreciated.

Kasutera was a deceptively easy baked good to make. A popular fluffy cake that was traditionally baked in a wooden pan. With only four ingredients to its name, it shouldn’t be too difficult to make, or one would think. There were four room temperature egg yolks and egg whites used, seventy grams of sugar, fifty grams of sifted flour, and 25 grams of diluted honey. Typically, after putting together the baked goods, you were to wrap the cake in parchment paper and leave it to cool over the night.

It was an exact recipe, something that even the smallest of mistakes could damage the final product beyond repair, and well, there were more than a few problems here.

First and foremost, Bakugou Katsuki was not a baker; he was a culinary chef, i.e., not a pastry chef. Sure, he was perfect at nearly everything he did, but baking was one of the few things in his life he did not excel in. Cooking was chemistry to Bakugou, there was rhyme, reason, structure, but baking was too free-willed, too open, and disastrously small at the most unexpected moments. 

Mix in you, one of the few people in the world that could quickly and simply distract Bakugou, and the fact that most of the time, you forgot what you were doing while being lost in the blaring music. Sift in the information that you loved to dance, and a splash of bullying Bakugou into dancing with you left you with a disaster.

A floury, sugary, sticky disaster.

A disaster you were more than likely making way worse.

“If your dumbass doesn’t get away from my bowl, right now, y/l/n!” Bakugou barks out, twisting his shoulder to block you out from the bowl.

You squawk as you’re shoved away, your hand that carries the vanilla extract unable to reach the bowl.

“Let it happen!” you exclaim, your voice edging a cackle as your other arm wraps across his chest. You’re trying to entrap him, trying to be like a snake around his entire body. “It’ll make this bitch taste so good!”

“Like hell you’re fucking up this recipe, dork! Fucking leave me alone and forget the damn vanilla extract!”

“Lemme put it in, or I’ll bite your arms!

“Don’t be a mosquito– OW, FUCK!”

Your teeth had sunk into the flesh of his left arm, a cackle bubbling up your throat as you placed another bite a few centimeters to the right of the first bite. Three red bite marks now lined his pale, strong arms, and you giggled at the sound of slamming steel before screeching as annoyed, loving red eyes rounded on you.

“You brat!” he bellows, and you panic, dropping the vanilla extract as he tackles you on the floor as you screech his name.

“Lemme go! Stop!” you howl, struggling against his hot iron hold.

Bakugou loomed above you, knees digging into your sides as he grinned fiercely, teeth bared and all. His face is caked in loose flour, and sugar flakes, a circumstance that had occurred when you had playfully (see accidentally, maybe a bit purposefully, depending on who’s answering) crashed a bowl of sugar and flour into his face.

Baking was a good stress reliever for both of you. Most of your days were filled with protein shakes, gluten-free chips, and bento boxes with an unholy scale for only healthy protein and iron-filled products. Baking allowed for leeway for something not as bland, something sweeter, and delectable. But the both of you commandeering an intricate art often left you both less than clean.

“You get away from me right now!” you threaten, your arms struggling and failing to throw his weight off of you.

“Or what, y/l/n?!” Bakugou sneers playfully, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “You gonna throw me off you? Kick my ass? I wanna see you make me get off you.”

You fluster with his words, face screwing up as you can only see his victorious, feral grin.

“You’re an asshole!” you spit, squirming as his lips press against your jaw.

“Yeah?”

His lips press to the spot right below your earlobe, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. “Y-Yeah, a big one too!”

“I guess I should apologize for that, then, huh?” he chuckles, and your eyelids flutter as you look up at Bakugou, who stares down at you with nothing but pure adoration and love. And it’s real, it’s true, and you want nothing more but to sink into the floor with him forever.

“You should,” you respond in a whisper. “Take responsibility for your actions.”

“Mm,” he whispers back, already leaning in. “When don’t I?”

And like a chocolate piece on a hot stove, you absolutely melt when his sugar-dusted lips press against yours. 

There the two of you stay, for a few minutes or maybe much, much more, letting your lips press and move against each other. At some point, the hands that once held you down were now entwined with yours, a gentle weight now as your free hand pressed to the small of his back.

It was perfect.

Your finger rose off his back and the rare quirk you had activated, allowing for the vanilla extract to lift delicately off the table and move it towards the bowl.

“You better put that shit down.”

You groan.

“Nothing gets past you, huh?”

It takes a bit longer, a bit more bickering, a few more kisses to distract the other, but eventually, the batter is poured into the wooden pan. You put the pan into the oven, and you nod to Bakugou, who looks content with the final product.

There are forty-five minutes on the timer, and the both of you remain silent for some time, watching the cake begin to bubble slowly with the rising internal temperature.

“You know, I haven’t baked in a while,” Bakugou admits, leaning against the island with his arms crossed again. You look at him in a bit of shock, but you’re also not shocked at all. He wasn’t one to eat unhealthily, to consume something that wouldn’t benefit him entirely. You were one of the few people who could healthily chip away at his defenses, but you still feel a pit in your stomach at the confession. “Don’t get it wrong; it’s just not the same when it’s just for yourself.”

You smile, albeit weakly, and shrug, “I’m sure if you brought some to Midoriya or Kirishima, it would have been practically the same.”

“And let those leeches in on my baking skills? Like hell I want to hear Izuku say dumb shit like ‘I want some cake from Kacchan because Kacchan is sugoi’ every day. Or have Kirishima draining my bank account trying to get him enough cake to satisfy that boulder.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, his voice mocking Midoriya’s voice for just a moment before his shoulders lose tension. You continue to stare, unable to look away as he turns to you. “More than anything else…” he pauses, unsure if he wants to admit his truth. But the Bakugou who holds back his feelings and keeps things away has long ago been dead. “I only wanted to bake with you.”

It’s both everything and nothing you wanted to hear. A confession so pure that it both lifted you up and condemned you, and the only thing you could think of was why did you do it? Why did you leave him all that time ago?

You open your mouth, ready to talk, but your stomach growls loudly, and you flush at the traitorous sound.

“Of course you’re hungry already,” Bakugou sighs, but there’s a soft look on his face. “Let’s go eat, dork. We haven’t been out in a while for dinner, huh.”

And for some reason, those words bring tears to your eyes. They may have fallen from your eyes and descended from your cheeks, but you can’t tell; you can’t feel them. This isn’t real, just a little thing to make you feel better, nothing except you being entirely selfish.

It’s not real, but for now, for the remainder of your twenty-four hours, it’s enough.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

.

.

.

.

.

6:31 p.m.  –  16:41:52 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

The truth about Bakugou Katsuki’s hands is that they’re actually not that sweaty.

You’ve seen the fan forums, the interviews, the accidental doujin, and had been forced to read fanfic about Bakugou while in America. You knew that the entire world assumed that Bakugou Katsuki’s hands were practically its own little ecosystem with how sweaty they got. And while it had been the truth up until he got into UA, the ultra intensive hero course had trained him to learn how to make his hands sweat on command.

So while yes, most of the time, his hands were warm and sweaty, it was because he chose for them to be as such. But when he was off of patrol, when he wasn’t Great God of Explosion Murder Dynamight, his hands were dry. Sure, they were rough around the edges, warmer than most of the human population, but they were thin, long, and completely dry.

So as the two of you walked down an all too familiar alleyway, with his palm pressed against yours and his fingers laced between yours, the nervous, cold sweat that graced his skin made you nervous… nervous in a good way, you think.

Just near the outside barrier of Hamamatsu was a small alleyway. It wasn’t dirty, wasn’t too crowded, nor was it too sketchy. A small stream of people constantly moved in and out of it, most notably during lunch and dinner hours.

Halfway between the opening and the end of this alleyway was a single slot, a quite literal hole in the wall for a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. If you walked by it too fast, too in a rush to get from one end to the other, you would most definitely miss it. But if you were, say perhaps, a pro hero, tackling a villain at the end of the fight and crashing through the curtains of the small restaurant, you would never miss it. 

The small hole in the wall had no name to it, but it was family-run, with only one thing on its menu: mapo tofu.

The place was run by an elder Chinese immigrant couple, the husband and wife duo having no issue with the hours they worked because they loved doing what they did. Their mapo tofu was undeniably the best in the city, perhaps the entire country – Bakugou could better argue that one – and their portion sizes were never lacking. Especially never with Bakugou as he had been the hero who crashed into the restaurant and single-handedly repaired all the damages he had created on top of becoming a regular. 

You let out a shaky breath, looking at the lean, muscular back of your twenty-four-hour love. He was dressed simply in black pants and a black shirt, something so simple yet entirely dizzying to take in. It made you nervous; it made you feel like you were back on your first date with him.

So Bakugou’s hands were a bit sweaty, your stomach was in knots, and he pushed back the red curtains to enter the hole in the wall.

The lights were as dim as you remembered them to be, the white noise static of the two fans they had at the slightly stained bench because they didn’t have an ac system still the same, and paired with the reruns of Chinese Dramas on the small TV behind the counter, made you nostalgic. Made you feel as if the past year had not happened.

There was no one else at the bench, and you smiled softly up at Bakugou as he moved out a stool for you to sit on.

“Bakugou?! Y/l/n?! Is that both of you?!” a shrill voice exclaims, and you watch in slight fear and overwhelming past yearning as an older woman with salt and pepper hair shuffled out the small door that separated the kitchen and the dining area. 

“Obaa-chan!” you exclaim meekly. Bakugou merely nods his head in greeting. “It’s been so long!”

“More like too long!” she exclaims with a frown, and you can do nothing but apologize in complete embarrassment. “Do you realize how long I’ve been waiting for the two of you to return here together? A whole year! You can imagine my surprise when I found out that you two had broken up, but the unimaginable pain I felt when you never showed back up, y/l/n!”

Your face burns at the accusation and the slight mental recognition that you never returned in fear of running into Bakugou.

“All those years of saying you were my best customer, bah!” she shakes her hand exaggeratedly, leaving you to sit in your shame as she pulls out her small notebook and huffs before smiling widely. “Now, will you two lovebirds be having your usual together.”

Bakugou snorts, “yeah, we are.”

“Hm, Bakugou ordering for the two of you… don’t tell me something disastrous like your first date will happen again,” she sighs, shaking her head and waving her hands. “Don’t stain my tabletop again!”

And even though you were embarrassed and a slight bit mortified, you couldn’t help but smile at that memory.

The two of you had been eighteen at the time, fresh out of school, ready to tackle the world. He had surprised you by asking you out. You hadn’t initially found Bakugou and his feral personality attractive, but three years was enough time for it to grow on you, and you had accepted your then good friend’s invitation.

Bakugou had taken you here for your first date. His hands had been so sweaty that he refused to let you even brush the back of his hands. He had stepped away from you, not too far away that people would mistake you as strangers, but too far for anyone to assume there was any sort of romantic affiliation.

Bakugou’s ears were burning red, and he refused to respond to your conversation, which made it awkward and completely one-sided. He had even failed to respond to your congratulations on the inspiring debut he had, which you knew made him at least smile. Still, the two of you ended up in the shop, where the two owners had looked at the both of you with kindness and slight confusion as Bakugou seriously was beginning to sweat buckets.

You had ordered one of the two options they served, and Bakugou stiffly nodded in response to if he wanted his so far “usual.” And as if the night couldn’t have gotten any worse, Bakugou managed to spill the entire fresh and hot plate of mapo tofu all over your new skirt.

He had been so sure that you would have left at that very moment, but instead, you had only laughed, bringing up how you were ready to see if this really was the calm and collected Bakugou Katsuki you’ve known for three years. Bakugou began to apologize, face never lifting from the floor as he recounted every error he had made that night, practically scrutinizing himself under a microscope. But, you had easily found out that day, a great way to shut the great Bakugou Katsuki up, was to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“It’s been a weird first date, one for the books, really,” you had laughed softly, grinning as wide red eyes locked with yours. “But, I don’t think I’d trade it for the world.”

To be young, eighteen, and naive all over again.

“I liked our first date,” you say, sitting down to Bakugou’s left, your hands still entwined as you smile. “Imperfectly perfect.”

“No such thing,” Bakugou grumbled, the first date still a sore spot for him. “It was a mess.”

“And yet, here we are!” you sing, grabbing two pairs of chopsticks and placing them before the two of you. You set your free hand to your chin, stroking it sagely. “Perfection doesn’t mean correction.”

“And what incorrect moron told you that?” Bakugou sneers, but there’s an almost exasperated, entertained look in his eyes.

“Only the best one.”

“Kaminari?”

“Precisely.”

Unlike your first date, this small interaction released the once again built tension, and you laughed as Bakugou’s eyes rolled back into his head. Eventually, your two plates were brought out by the elder couple.

Mapo tofu with grilled eggplant and rice for Bakugou, mapo tofu with cucumber salad, and rice for you. And for the first time in over a year, you ate the best mapo tofu you’ve ever had and could only fawn and coo over the texture and taste as Bakugou simply shoved the food in his mouth. Too content with the taste to even attempt to get you to shut up.

But you ate, and he ate, your pinkies joined beneath the bench, a silent weight between the two of you. The elder couple eventually shuffled back into the kitchen when a phone began ringing, and the two of you were alone again.

You began talking as you did all those years ago. Catching him up on the other sidekicks at the agency you were at, complaining about the little old man who always called in to help with the most mundane things. You talked about your parents, how they were doing, and how you set up a vacation for them. Bakugou caught you up on his life, how not much had changed except that Izuku crashed at his place for a bit when he had been thrown all the way through his apartment building, ironically enough, during a villain fight.

The world was calmer than it was when you were high schoolers. You felt that most of it came from the fact that Midoriya and Bakugou were facing all villains at the source of their problems, enlisting their agencies’ help to correctly facilitate them into the world.

It went from work stuff to simply what weird memes you had seen recently, what trend you wanted Bakugou to try out. And somehow, everything between you, everything terrible and stiff, melted for good.

Bakugou looked at you with warm eyes; the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he pointed out the chive on your chin. Before you could react to tear off the chive, he had surged forward and his wet warm tongue pushed against your skin to the squawk you made in return.

“Idiot,” he had said too fondly, and you, in a moment of weakness, of contentedness and warmth that this day had so far brought, cracked.

“I missed you… so much, Katsuki.”

He looks at you like you grew a third head as if trying to come to terms with what you said. Bakugou sighs, his head dropping, and a humorless chuckle escapes him.

“Ya know, I missed you more.”

.

.

.

.

.

Bakugou pays for dinner, his back turned to the married couple as you bow in thanks and promise to continue coming back with Bakugou. 

Your hand shyly joins with his; you had taken full notice of his right hand being shoved deep within his pocket and the left hanging stiffly at his side. It was Bakugou’s way of requesting to hold hands without having to say it. He may not be totally emotionally constipated, but the man was a tad bit shy.

So you take hold of Bakugou’s warm left hand with your right one, and your left-hand finds comfort against the inner part of his elbow. With a bright smile aimed at him and a soft, tinged pink scowl at you, the both of you resume back into the world.

The night air is warm and light, brushing and blowing against your cheeks and neck as the both of you assume the concrete sidewalks. You can’t say exactly what you’re talking about with Bakugou, you know you’re bickering, but you’re unsure about what. It’s nothing real enough to care about, but just a facade to keep the other one talking because continuing to say that you missed each other would only cause a brief spout of pain.

Besides, lovers don’t recount how much they missed each other with pain. It’s supposed to be teasing, joyous, obnoxiously in love.

“The cake should be cooled by the time we get home,” Bakugou says, stopping the rhythm of your argument. “We can have a slice, clean up our place, and then do whatever you want before going to bed.”

“Like…” you give a moment of pause, the power he gave you with the implications of activity before bed is too warm on your tongue. “...give you that haircut I want you to have?!” 

“Absolutely not!”

“But an undercut would look so good on you!”

“I don’t care about how good it would look on me. If you buzz off half my hair, just buzz off the rest of it! It’s stupid otherwise!”

Your jaw drops, offended by your boyfriend's still stubborn stance on the entire haircut discord. But your attention is drawn away when Bakugou seems to stop, his gaze far ahead, attentive, forlorn, jealous. You blink, confused. And when you follow his line of sight, you figure out why.

There’s a couple far ahead; one of them has sunk to their knees, a small velvet box presented to the other as something small glints with undeniable power. The other one, the one being proposed to, seems shocked, taken off guard, and is crying as they too collapse to their knees, nodding their head and kissing the other. Your stomach churns, and your fingertips turn sweaty and cold.

Westerners and their public proposals…

And for the first time since it happened, since you let him go, you think of that black velvet box hidden in his sock drawer. Tears begin welling up in your eyes, and you scoff slightly.

“Public proposals are too much, h-huh.”

And Bakugou continues looking at them, a faraway gaze to his face, a future that hadn’t happened etched into the frown of his.

“Yeah…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

9:55 p.m.  –  13:17:01 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Alternative music is echoing off the walls, filling every open space in Bakugou’s home as the both of you clean up the mess you two had previously made. You’re wiping down surfaces, and he’s cleaning the floor. The both of you performing an old but well-known dance as you expertly avoid each other’s cleaning flow but interact enough to leave soft and often wet kisses against exposed skin.

Soon every lingering speck of sugar, flour, and dust is eradicated from the house. The counters are spotless, the floors gleaming and clean. The cake is left lying unassumingly on the counter as forgotten slices are abandoned on plated beside it. 

The dishes are left drying on the dish rack, and you have your cheek pressed to Bakugou’s chest as the two of you sway to the music that’s playing. It’s almost hilarious how the both of you are swaying to screamo Japanese music, but it’s nice, pleasant, familiar.

You follow Bakugou’s lead, letting him spin you around, dip you down low and slow. 

And like the last thread snapping, holding a mountain of weight, you fall into him, letting go completely.

A new song plays, one in English at that. Your English was far better than most of Japan’s population, you had Present Mic to thank for that, after all, but songs were something you sometimes had issues with understanding. The tone and intonation and the stringing of words in often colloquial and ungrammatical terms left you tongue-tied and confused. The words mean nothing to you, and only confuse you with the set rules you knew.

“Who’s this?” you ask as a powerful voice fills the house, you can’t quite keep up, but the voice sounds sad, almost forlorn. But you know it isn’t quite alternative music; it’s too gentle, as if someone were to slap you out of a terrible state.

“An artist named P!nk,” Bakugou responds, his cheek resting against your head. “She has a powerful voice.”

“Like the color pink?” you ask, grinning at the small fact. He only grunts in affirmation. You continue to listen to the song, trying to decipher the lyrics based on the instrumentals and the shake in her voice. “I like her.”

“Me, too,” Bakugou mumbles.

The song continues, and you close your eyes, absorbing it all as he continues to sway the both of you in the small corner of his kitchen Bakugou’s chest rumbles with his humming. You tune in to him, the song becoming nothing but background static as he speaks the lyrics.

“So say you’ll stay with me tonight… ‘cuz there’s so much wrong…”

It’s a lyric, you know it is, but it leaves your heart skipping beats, and your breathing stops. You pull away from his chest, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear the hammering of your heart right now. Bakugou looks at you with a sad look, his eyes speaking to you with emotions you had once sworn you never wanted to see again, and for a moment, this song is about the two of you, a power ballad written for you and him.

Red eyes burn right through you, and you know twenty-four hours can never be enough with this man.

You want him, and you know you should have never let him go.

And with shaky, sweaty fingers, you grip the collar of his shirt and bring him down for a questionative kiss. It’s soft, almost a ghost of a kiss, a pathetic need and request to make sure you weren’t overstepping as if you hadn’t already this entire night. 

But Bakugou Katsuki never half-assed things, never left a thing unanswered, and certainly never did anything he didn’t want to do, and answered your kiss with nothing that could make you self-doubt your actions or his.

Your lips pressed against Bakugous in shaky gasps, claiming burning strides, and exhilarated untamed puffs. His fingers sat on your hips, pressing you closer, rising up the bare skin of your back. Your heart roared in your ears, blood rushing to your face and down below as you pull him closer, eliminating space and time between the two of you as you need to be claimed, needed to be reminded of the physical love you had with him.

Puffy, spit-slicked lips slide and glide against one another, tongues pushing and prodding, twirling and licking into each other’s mouth. You tremble, unsure if the heavy, overwhelmed breathing is coming from you or from him. But you need more; you won’t stop now, not even if the world around you burns and crumbles to the floor.

Bakugou’s shirt is thrown off first, and somehow, your bra is off before your shirt.

Hot, rough fingers pinching and rolling against your pert, begging nipples.

“M-More!” you moan into his mouth, hot, needy, and desperate.

“Bedroom, now, fuck, please,” he pleads breathlessly, too weak to even begin the first steps.

So, you take the first step. It’s more of a stumble, your mind mush and unable to decipher which foot took the first twitch. But Bakugou, ever the hero, catches you, pressing your stomach flush against his hips. And like a once perfect dance routine that has gone unpracticed for years, decades even, the both of you begin clumsy, faux confident steps towards a closed white door.

His mouth meets the curve of your neck.

Your shirt hits the floor.

His belt melts within the shadows of the floor.

Your fingers twist and pull at his hair.

It’s desperate, damning, impatient, and you’re weightless when the back of your knees hit his mattress. He follows you down, face dark and cloudy as he’s back against your mouth, claiming you, consuming you. Your lips throb as Bakugou bites into them slowly, teasingly. Nails dig into each other's flesh, a desperate need to mark, claim, a pathetic reminder of each other’s existence to each other.

Each breath you take racks your ribs with burning embers, and each time Bakugou mindlessly curses, your vision goes dizzy, hazy.

All you can smell is caramel; all you can taste is him.

And for a second, everything is normal, everything is perfect.

Your panties are bunched at your knees, his fingers are gripping at your inner thighs, and he pulls away and stares.

Red eyes scour your body, taking in every scar, every fold as if for the first time, and his eyes lift up and reach yours. Bakugou looks at you like you’re someone who matters, someone he would watch the world burn down for, and as red eyes scream three words at you, you’re the first to put them back out into the world.

“I love you,” you whisper, tears coming to your eyes. “I love you so much, Katsuki.”

His head drops, shaking with concealed emotions, but not for a moment do you have any sort of doubt. It’s simply love.

“And I’ve never not loved you.” 

Somehow those words take your breath away, and when his eyes raise to meet yours, you’re back on him.

Lips slow and sweet; moans soft and breathless.

Your fingers roam the planes of his back, nails trekking down the scars and the muscles, only digging in when his dick presses deep into you for the first time in a while. It’s a silent arch of your back, ‘I love you’s mumbled into salty sweat skin, and sloppy unreaching kisses. But he pushes into you at a slow speed with strong strokes, shifting your body up the bed, until your jumble of nerves are worked out, and your ankles are wrapped around his hips as you plead for more in the words of: “I love you, so please, please – fuck – I love you.”

His warm hand takes yours and buries it in the pillow above your head, and the warm thrumming heat soothes you completely.

“I love you,” you confess.

“I love you,” he accepts.

And when he spills into you for the first time that night, his tears against your throat and your tears against your cheeks remind you that it’s real.

.

.

.

.

.

5:01 a.m.  –  5:11:28 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

Truthfully, you had forgotten how long you and Bakugou could have sex without wearing out. Most times, the two of you were too tired to go more than two rounds; a second-round was questionable at that. But, when your days off aligned, and you were blessed with two days off together, some sessions lasted the entire day.

While not that ambitious, being able to last five hours was not a feat to dismiss. You hummed softly as you sank into clean sheets, something Bakugou undoubtedly changed when you had stepped into the bath before him. He had joined you there, after all. 

The clean sheets were nice, cool to your naked skin, and gentle to your nose.

And even nicer was the body pressed to your back as Bakugou held you softly, nose buried into your scalp, finger grazing your figure. You hum, enjoying his gentle caress as he continues to hold you silently.

You wanted to be like this until the end of time.

Content.

Happy.

Loved.

“Why’d you do it?” his voice mumbles, tone detached, and body tensed for the rest. “I’ve thought of everything I could have done wrong… I know I wasn’t perfect, and I can be hard to handle at times, but nothing I put together made sense.”

You pulled away from his arms, choosing to sit up as you looked at Bakugou.

He remained on the bed, eyebrows furrowed and gaze locked on the spot you once were, as if fixated on a ghost. It’s silent as you try not to let tears well up in your eyes, and you look at him, your heart breaking.

Bakugou breathes heavily out his nose, his eyes closing for a moment before he opens them, turning to you.

“What did I do wrong?”

And all you can do is laugh.

“Nothing… you did nothing wrong.”

.

.

Bakugou sits up, and you can feel him pressed to your side, fingers wiping away tears you failed to keep back.

“I knew you always had some goal with us,” you begin, voice weak, and you gaze unable to meet him. “So much of your life was planned, and while you h-had to edit some things, you always got the most important part of what you wanted in the end. Be a hero, be greater than All Might… you’re not someone who half-asses things or even allows intimacy with people who don’t mean anything to you.”

“I know what I want,” Bakugou confirms, voice small, confused, but desperate to understand.

“And it’s so good you know what you want!” you exclaim, looking at him as you continue to cry. Bakugou looks at you, trying to keep quiet, and merely wipes more tears away. “I wish more of us were like you in that regard, but it scared me when it came to our relationship.”

“Why?” he presses, placing a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand.

You sniffle, watching the softness of his face and wishing you could take a picture of how he was right now. Your fingers turn and wrap around his, and Bakugou looks at you with clear eyes as you press a long, lingering kiss to the curve of his knuckles. You pull away, dry tongue wetting dry lips.

“Because at eighteen, you thought I was enough for the rest of your life… and at eighteen, I thought I was just a phase for you.”

“Y/n…”

“Funny enough, it took me until I was twenty-two to realize that you were it for me too, but I could never admit that to myself… I was weak, too young and stupid, and when everyone has an opinion over relationships that begin in high school, I became insecure.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Bakugou asks, frowning, but eyes hurt and aching. “You know I was always there to talk.”

“I couldn’t, I dunno why,” you confess, feeling childish and dumb. “I can’t say I was going to tell you, but then one night…” you pause, nothing that there was no coming back from this confession, the single admittance that caused your downfall with the love of your life. “I came across the engagement ring you had bought.”

Bakugou froze, and you looked up at him, shock and humiliation painted on his face like an open wound.

“You saw it?” and the way his voice sounds so hollow defeats you.

“I saw the box, not the ring itself,” you pathetically sob, palms of your hands digging into your eyes. “I knew it was a ring because of the receipt, but I knew if I saw the r-ring, I could never deny you.”

“You knew I was going to propose?”

“Yeah…”

Your hiccups and choked cries are the only things that are heard, and you can only curl in on yourself as you can only imagine the extensive emotions flickering on your lover’s face.

But warm arms surround your form, pulling you in close as your heart lodges in your throat. His warm breath blows against your neck, and you tremble.

“You’re such an idiot, y/n,” he whispers, and you can feel his tears against your shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Katsuki–”

“No, it’s my turn to talk,” he interrupts, and you nod pathetically. “You are the most pathetic, infuriating woman in the world. First off, how dare you ever assume that I have my life planned out and that I’ve kept to it with minor editing. Do you think the plan I had in middle school is the one I stuck to? I damn well hope not, or else I haven’t changed at all. I don’t care about rankings or titles because a positive outside perspective doesn’t  mean I’m a good person, much less a hero. I sure as hell never thought I would ever become friends with Izuku again after childhood, much less being partners on the field! I wanted to be the undeniable victor, but perfect victory isn’t something attainable. If I was the same, I’d be like Endeavor pre-High End Nomu. You were something I was never sure about until I realized that you were everything I needed and more.”

“Katsuki…”

“Don’t be putting your shitty opinions in my mouth when you never asked for them, okay?! I want you because you make me feel and behave in ways I don’t understand, but in ways that I like. And sure, you’re a major pain in my ass and in my heart at times, but you’re stupidly more than worth it. You are my everything, and no fucking insecurity of yours is going to defeat me, ya hear? You wanna break up, crush my heart, that’s fine, but do it because you don’t love me… don’t… don’t do it because you’re scared.”

And as his breathing turns erratic as tears, he hides so poorly, streams down his face, your dry lips kiss them away. Wordless apologies with every point of contact.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, please forgive me.”

“Marry me.” he snaps instead, red puffy eyes look up to you, and blood surges to your face.

“W-What?!”

“Marry me,” Bakugou says again, softer, not so much a command, but a question. “I’m done with this dating shit; I want you as my wife.”

You squeak, hands covering your mouth as the word wife echoes and rings so prettily in your ears. “B-But we need a marriage license, a-and a witness?! We can’t just get married!”

“Why the hell not? Fuck the license and a witness. I don’t need another single damn person in the room when I marry you, and the government recognizing it don’t mean shit.”

“But you always follow the rules!” you shriek, watching as Bakugou shuffles with his bedside cabinet. “No way this is real right now. No… you don’t want this; you shouldn’t want this!”

“You tryna say you won’t marry me?” Bakugou asks, turning around, eyebrows furrowed and fury flaring. “If you won’t marry me, just say that instead.”

You gape at Bakugou, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink, tears flood your eyes because even though you know this shouldn’t be happening, you can’t deny him anymore.

.

.

Sometimes… it’s okay to be selfish. 

.

.

.

.

.

“Bakugou Katsuki, it would be an honor to be your wife.”

He smirks.

“Good.”

.

.

.

.

.

Under the light of the slowly unawakening sky, the two of you exchange secret vows to each other as he slips your dream engagement ring on your finger in favor of a wedding band. You have to be creative with his ring, opting with using an old metal chopstick he still used and using the joint power of your quirks, forge a small silver band. There are pitchy giggles, chuckling sighs, and sloppy kisses that don’t ever stop.

It’s messy and weird. The both of you promise each other nothing but a lifetime of happiness and love, through sickness, health, joy, and pain, to bringing in a future life and till death.

You were his, and he was yours.

And it was perfect.

.

.

“Watch the sunrise with me, my husband?” you ask, curled between his arms, gaze on his faze instead of the illuminating windows.

“Anything for you, my wife.”

.

.

.

.

.

10:11 a.m.  –  00:01:02 Remaining

.

.

.

.

.

You stare at Bakugou’s sleeping face.

Twenty-four hours of playing lovers, and the two of you ended up married. You smile, amused and entirely anguished at your year of playing pretend… that he didn’t matter, that you didn’t care.

You missed the way he looked years younger when he slept. One of the only times he wasn’t constantly thinking of the weight of the world on his shoulders or how he could continue to be his best for those who needed him.

He was such a good man…

You could only hope he would forgive you.

Your fingers trace the soft curves of his jaw, and you lean in close to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

.

.

.

.

00:10:00

.

.

.

.

“Thank you for giving me all of your love,” you whisper, face burying into his neck. “You were my favorite hello, and my hardest goodbye. I love you, dummy… don’t hate your wife too much, o-okay?”

.

.

.

00:05:00

.

.

.

You breathe out softly, snuggling deeper to his chest.

.

.

00:03:00

.

.

“You’ll be amazing; you always are.”

.

00:01:00

.

And with a whisper of: “fuck… god, I love you,” you breathe in the caramel musk one last time and let your eyes close.

Happy.

Content.

In love.

Thank you…

00:00:00

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When Bakugou opened the door last morning, he didn’t expect to see you. For a sick, small moment, he thought maybe it was some prank show, and Present Mic and Camie would appear out of nowhere screaming: ‘YOU JUST GOT PUH-RAAAANKKKKKEEEDDDDD!”

But there was uncertainty, fear, and guilt lingering in his eyes, and Bakugou pushed away that thought immediately.

Your request was weird, he had to admit, but it wasn’t hard to pretend to be in love with someone who still had his entire heart. He was stiff at first, unsure how to truly just go back to the way things were, and he probably fought with you more times than necessary, but you were someone who trapped their thoughts and feelings deep down, even when trying to be selfish.

Somehow the twenty-four hours broke away at barriers, and finally, the truth spilled out.

And best yet, he went to bed calling you his wife.

Nothing could get him down.

He woke up a bit past 10:30, the feeling of your body pressed against his making his heart ache in a pleasant, perfect way.

“Good morning, my wife,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

Nothing.

.

.

“C’mon, wake up. We both work tomorrow, dork,” he tries again, voice a tad bit desperate.

Nothing.

.

.

.

.

.

Sirens were soon heard coming at full speed towards Bakugou’s house, and when the paramedics entered the room. He laid on the bed, holding your limp body, numb and crying.

.

.

.

.

.

35:11:00 Before

.

.

.

.

.

“...this was… the worst quirk to be hit by, y/h/n,” the doctor says with nothing but disgusting, dripping sympathy and guilt. “Even with Eraserheads help, we can’t stop its effect on you. The kid doesn’t know how to stop it either.”

“W-Wow,” you can’t help but laugh, somehow feeling incredibly light, as if a black hole had consumed you, given how you were falling apart at the seams. “How long do I have?”

“...you have fifteen hours to be with the one person you want to spend your last twenty-four hours with.”

“Thirty-nine hours max… understood,” you repeat back, hollowly.

“And I stress this, y/h/n, don’t tell the person about the quirk affecting you. It seems that if you tell the person, the twenty-four hours are used up immediately.”

“That’s fucked,” your voice cracks and the tears on your face are silent.

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay; it’s no one’s fault.”

.

.

.

“Do you know who you’ll spend it with?”

.

.

.

“Do you think it’s selfish to spend it with someone you love, even if you hurt them before?”

[burnedbyshoto]

you guys know that movie called fever pitch??? yeah I just feel like that would be an amazing AU for midoriya fucking izuku.

just this super dashing, sweet, kind, hella strong single man who can’t hold down a relationship and no one can understand why. there are rumors flying left and right, some claim it’s because he’s an idiot, how he’s actually a terrible lover, that he lost his dick in a fight long ago, or whatever.

rumor after rumor pours out and no one can understand. deku always just sort of flinches when he’s asked the question and always manages to avoid answering it.

but the truth is something that everyone who knows him intimately speculated would be an issue when they were young. the hero shrine that was his living space & personal time was not attractive and left most of his lovers feeling like they were second rate.

enter normal day office worker reader who falls in love with the strong hero & is the first person in a long time to accept the horrific collection he has. but the question for the general public remains the same: how long will they last?

[burnedbyshoto]

Oh shittt I'm super invested in the missing reader and eraserhead? Do you think there will be a prt2?

there will be! expect healing angst, fluff, and most likely smut :)

& to the anon who spoke up about posting spoilers, my bad! I forget people don’t just read the manga, and i’ve explained a long time ago i only consider most recent chapters spoilers, but i’ll make sure to mention that stories will be up to manga canon next time.

[burnedbyshoto]

Hii~ sorry to bother but I wanted to ask who do you feel comfortable writing for?

there’s no one i’m really uncomfortable writing for tbh. I do have have heavy preference for shouto, bakugou, and deku tho bc they’ve consumed my ever waking thoughts sometimes. but ya know, I still vibe w everyone!

oh wait, lol I hate writing for present mic, he makes me mad.

[burnedbyshoto]

you disappeared on a thursday morning.

aizawa remembers sitting at the table, drinking coffee as he looks at the progression of his students. there’s nothing new to this routine, nothing out of the ordinary.

even when you come out to the kitchen, kissing him goodbye sweetly, some terrible pun about his missing leg going horribly executed as you shuffle out the door for your day. there’s nothing remotely different.

aizawa goes to his job, sleeps most of his extra time away, his actual motivation to effectly scold the often rambunctious class is well used. the kids complain, his colleagues are jovial, and the tender, raw peace of a healing world feels nice.

he prays for peace for his students, for their future.

so when the end of the day comes uneventfully, aizawa considers it a rationally good day.

he goes home, pets sushi head when she chirps hello, and begins dinner. you worked a near twelve hour patrol today so he figured it was fair he cooked. plus the appreciation you have to his cooking is something he couldn’t pass up.

spices fill the air as he cooks, the only sound going is the soft sizzling of the meat, and the clicks of feline nails on the floor. soon enough dinner is ready.

the table is set for two, and the plates are full with warm food.

his lone eye looks at the front door. your slippers still sit there.

where are you?

an hour passes and so, exasperated and already coming up with a rational theory that you simply decided to get lost in boring paperwork, aizawa calls your agency.

“hello,” he greets the lady at the front desk who responds with her own greeting. “this is eraserhead, do you happen to know if y/h/n left already?”

“y/h/n?” she questions and the confused tone immediately knots his stomach. “i’m sorry, eraserhead-san, y/h/n didn’t show up to work today. we assumed that they were sick or forgot to call out.”

aizawas heart stops.

“oh. okay.” he hears himself speak, but feels no muscle moving to make him talk. “thank you for letting me know.”

“of cour—“

aizawa for the first time feels a cold ache in his phantom limb and shudders. this was not good.

aizawa begins his search for you at that very moment. he looks at street camera after street camera. his single eye completely dried out, but no one is sure if the redness is from irritation or stress. no day is at peace especially after he finds the clip of you simply vanishing on your route to the agency. a simple touch by a stranger in black and poof gone.

no one knows the quick the stranger used. if you lived, if you died, or maybe were transported to somewhere god knows where.

but a day of you missing becomes two, fading into a week, folding over a month.

time has no structure and definitely no reason. and the time home aizawa finds himself stuck in lasts over two years as he obsesses over the fact that the love of his life simply disappeared. gone seemingly forever. and so, he becomes a mess.

still an excellent teacher, but his personal life is held together by the lone fact he has a cat.

he thinks of you every night, and therapy does little to help the ache of having to say goodbye without getting the chance to say bye to one of the last persons he’ll ever love. healing and recovering from this is slow, painful, and seemingly impossible.

but as aizawa returns home, sad and just a bit more hollow from the third year of you being gone, a voice calls out from behind you that doesn’t explain any rationality or reason.

“wow, look at that! we came home at the same time! how romantic!”

and he turns, chest pounding, ears rushing with blood and he sees you approaching him. waving and smiling, looking the exact same as you did when you disappeared. aizawa’s not sure if he faints, but for a moment, all he can see is black.

[burnedbyshoto]

so i’ve been in the mood to write but have no ideas so… if you have an idea that you want written, feel free to send my way :)

[burnedbyshoto]

i love hickies. I love leaving bites and marks and bruises.

call it high school shit or whatever, but the primal possession does things to me. it doesn’t even have to be horny related, I just like nibbling and biting or whatever.

so I raise you this:

sitting on bakugous lap one night, his arms around you as he scrolls through his phone, ignoring your ever present nibbles on his neck.

bakugous used to it.

used to the mindless, akin to stroking, nibbles and soft sucking of your lips to his skin. he’s distracted, reading todays news as you think of something thrilling and also something that certifies death.

he feels the still excitement in you but chooses to ignore it because of the quick return to your nibbles.

“finally done, shitty vampire?” he’ll ask later that night, having already been fully ready for bed before you had even begun marking him up.

“mmm, yes,” you agree, sliding up next to him and pressing a soft kiss against his tender skin.

bakugou hums and eventually sleep takes off.

the sun eventually rises and it’s time to be functional. bakugou makes it to work, uniform on but parted at the front, exposing pale and soft skin.

“w-what the hell is thaT?!” kaminari screeches, absolutely cracking with glee. “y/l/n is a GOD!”

bakugou wastes absolutely no time at the sound of his supposed friends hyena like laughter and slams in front of the mirror to examine his neck. his neck flushes, making the deep purple bruises even darker.

perfectly drawn out on his neck is a penis and bakugous blood pressure immediately sky rockets.

“Y/L/N!!!!!!!!”

[burnedbyshoto]

part two to fwb bakugou short story, but it’ll probably not make you feel anymore happier:

bakugou katsuki never though he was actually attractive until he found out he had a fan club.

call him a naive, but truly, he had no idea. he was always focused on things that mattered — intelligence, ability, skill — that being attractive felt more like a stupid parlor trick. he was thriving one night, having just turned 20 and even though his friends couldn’t drink, that sure didn’t stop them from buying him way too many drinks.

at first, he had been able to yell at them for buying drinks, but kaminari had slung an arm around his shoulder, a conniving smirk on his face as he looked more at kirishima then him.

“well, i’m sure that midoriya would be able to handle all these drinks~”

katsukis hubris would always be his downfall.

he doesn’t remember most of the night, can barely remember the bitter taste of alcohol, but could remember the scalding embrace of the person who warmed his bed. the way their backs arched from the bed, their sweet beautiful praising ringing in his ears as his cock entered their squeezing hole over and over again.

there were a few things he realized that night.

1. sex was good. like really good…. and-

2. being attractive meant more possibilities to have sex.

and finally, the stupid parlor trick had a true value.

sex was a great relief for katsuki. it was mindless, rhythmic, and a new territory for him to become the best in. he realized quickly that he wasn’t exactly looking for anything more than a bed partner, he didn’t really want anything romantic because that meant that this relief would become a job.

not that romance was bad or anything, but with his partnership with work-till-he-drops deku of all people in the hero world, he didn’t have any time to provide anything but sex. but he knew entirely well that working with deku showed the pros and cons of having a partner, and well, there wasn’t a lot of cons. so sue him, sometimes there were a few people that stayed longer then a night.

by the time he’s 26, he’s thriving off the system he’s made, work eat sex sleep, even if sometimes the sex part had angry rioters after him, they were the only things that mattered.

nothing seemed to be going wrong, well until it did.

he had met some girl at a conference. she had said she wasn’t a hero, nor a support hero, so bakugou assumed she was nothing more than some overcommitted fangirl who managed to get in to the conference.

she had a nice smile, pretty eyes, and seemed to put up with his sometimes brute personality, so he invited her over after the many blunt displays of flirting.

now that was mistake number one.

so after a week of sleeping together, he called it off, but of course of all people she could have been, she was the daughter of the most influential man in japan.

blacklisted.

that’s what he was.

no one wanted him, despite his attractiveness. no one wanted a man who broke hearts after fucking “virgins.” his ability as a pro was being questioned because of his sex life, and not even savior of the fucking world deku could stop the slandering.

before katsuki could decide whether or not he should figure out a way to prove that he had told every past partner that he was simply here for sex, you approached him.

katsuki remembers being a bit confused, a bit put off by your quiet confident approach. you guys weren’t exactly friends in high school, but you had been tight with deku. deku was the reason you had been recruited to work in their agency anyways. as if the world wasn’t already falling apart, your proposition definitely made his unstable world even more stable.

maybe that’s why he laughed bitterly at your request, why he even wanted to agree with it, why he even looked at your plainish features and thought to himself that he’s done so much better that he says, “I can’t promise that I won’t break your heart.”

and you, truly adding the most chaos into his life, simply shrugged.

“…that’s okay, as long as it’s my heart and not yours.”

to say the least, katsuki was taken aback by you. your stamina was par to his own, the keening and crying praises spilling from your lips into his ears sent fire down his spine. finger raked down his back, and the way you submitted to his every whim, desire, and sadistic demand. eyes that were soaked with tears looking at him with blown pupils while swollen blubbering lips begged for more.

it was perfect.

too perfect.

so perfect that when kaminari comments on it one day, something snags on bakugous throat.

“seems like our explodey boy is finally whipped and settling down with y/l/n!” he whistles, low and impressed. “good for the two of ya!”

everyone cheers in agreement.

maybe it was the sake in his system, the cheap beer sitting flush on his cheeks, and the intoxicated energy of high school friends sitting at a bar together, but bakugou opens his mouth and does the one thing he’s undeniably good at: destroying things.

“it isn’t anything serious,” he snaps. “it’s just sex. y/l/n knows it and it hasn’t stopped me from sleeping with anyone else!”

no one dares to call him out on it, but the array of wide eyes and parted lips pisses bakugou off more than them rebutting them could ever do.

“i’ll prove it to you fuckers then!” he hisses, anger wasted on nothing.

so he stands up, upper body flexed and on display and has no issue finding someone immediately interested in fucking a top ranked hero who hasn’t been around in more than a year.

bakugou takes them home, lips and fingers working magic, but his ears don’t hear the buzz of his phone. his angry and slightly drunken brain forget that you’re meant to come over tonight. it was tradition after all.

the moment bakugou finally gets the courage to rip the shirt off the stranger, mind aching because this doesn’t feel right, his front door opens.

as a pro hero, there are many times the world has slowed to a complete stop for him. when he watched buildings fall on friends, when it was one last punch or die, when he needed to save someone. he was used to this uniqueness of time perception and how things slow down. but he never imagined seeing it happen as his eyes open as see you at the entrance of his apartment. files and dinner in your hand, and the millions of emotions that flew through your eyes.

bakugou doesnt even hear the exchange, his heart too loud in his ears, but when he tries to call out… you leave.

the mood is killed, and there’s no more point in lying to himself… bakugou wants you. irrevocably and desperately wants you. with everything he can muster, he runs to your apartment after rushing out the nameless stranger through the front door.

he needs to explain.

he needs to tell you the truth.

he likes you! just you!

it was a mistake.

a hubris, fat headed mistake!

“I told you already, katsuki,” you say softly, the smile on your face small, knowing, yet somehow still so fucking kind. “I told you that it was okay. as long as it was my heart that broke, and not yours.”

the words scream in his ears, and it’s almost tragic that he doesn’t remember that until right now because his heart is frantically beating.

but bakugou musters up a sound again, mind spinning, heart aching. he needs to tell you his thoughts! you need to understand!

but the click of the door in front of his face is louder than any explosion he could ever make.

the sad, distant look on your face remains burned in his mind as he sinks to the floor. back pressed against the wall.

fuck.

fuck!

“it’s not okay though,” he whispers to no one. “my heart is breaking too.”

[burnedbyshoto]

there’s this line I read awhile ago, it was part of some comic I can’t remember from who, but the flavor????????

“I can’t promise I won’t break your heart.”

“…that’s okay, as long as it’s mine, and not yours.”

like imagine this:

being 26 years old, 8 years into a friendship with bakugou katsuki. as far as you know, he’s never really had a stable relationship.

sure bakugou katsuki is a very upfront person, what you see is basically what you get. the loud angry screams, the cursing, the sometimes demeaning nicknames, the molten hot glare. he’s that with no problem, but he’s also a lot more quieter than strangers would expect, quiet, calculating, a perfectionist in everything that losing cannot be an option.

maybe that’s why when people slip into his bed for the night, a quick and easy way for him to release stress, and they think just for a moment: “I’ll be different, I’m not like the others” because he prefers them for more than one night, they fall apart when one day he drops them.

screaming, crying, and shrieking follows him as they all blame him for their broken heart. even though the very first night when his fingers hooked under their shirt, he warned them: this is just sex.

it’s just sex for him, never for them.

but a scandal breaks loose one day, because even if he was a top three pro hero, not even his title could save him from the wrath of the daughter of a multibillion dollar investor. his sex life is outed, and when old partners come forward to say that yes, he lead them on and dropped them at the first convenience!!!! his ability to pick up on partners tanks.

but you’ve been in love with bakugou for the past two years, quietly waiting for him to get to the stage of being ready to manage a romantic relationship on top of his career. and you notice his tense shoulders and quicker temper. your friends he used to sleep with have partnered off already, happily in committed relationships with no room for bakugou.

it’s after the third wailing intern that you finally approach and give him your offer.

“i can’t promise I won’t break your heart,” he huffs, half joking, half bitter from the avalanche of bad pr he’s been through.

you stare at him, knowing it’s stupid to even try, but you shrug slowly, “that’s okay…” his eyes meet yours. “as long as it’s mine and not yours.”

so a relationship begins. the two of you begin having sex that sends your head into the sky, and your heart further into your throat. everyone, your friends especially, tell you it’s a bad idea.

don’t casually sleep with someone you love.

it never ends well.

but you don’t listen.

bakugou comes over for sex once a week, which slowly evolves into two to four times. sleeping over slowly happens, and breakfast and lunch is sometimes even shared. he swipes food from your plate, and you rant about your terrible day. he walks you home after drunken nights out with friends, and clothes slowly bleed into each other’s closets. his nickname for you is dropped soon enough, and it’s just your first name that rolls off his tongue that makes you want to shiver.

some nights you don’t even have sex at all. just bodies pressed against each other with heavy eyes and tracing fingers.

but you show up unannounced one day, nothing out of the blue because you both do it practically every day. both your orders from a take out restaurant in your hand, and case files in another. you just wanted to have dinner with him and go over work.

words ring through your memories as you watch bakugou stand straight up off the couch, a person with blue hair tumbling off his lap immediately.

you’re not naive, not a fool. you see ruffled hair, a shirt that’s halfway off, and red eyes that scream: fuck.

but you remember his warning, his heed, and even if it’s been a year and a half of whatever this was — friends with benefits, you remind yourself coldly — you don’t react.

“sorry!” you apologize, hands slamming back to the doorknob, trying to give them space. “I didn’t realize you were having someone over tonight! please continue!! ignore me!!”

“the least you can do is leave the food behind,” the stranger huffs on the floor, once flushed cheeks pale. excited eyes now fed up.

you freeze, but nod in agreement, you didn’t need to eat this food anymore. plus bakugous order was in it.

“y/n—“

“consider this my apology!” you laugh, the sound much more natural then you ever thought possible. “have fun, you two!”

you’re home faster then you can blink, and your couch with his burnt orange blanket on it seems like a joke.

still, the tears don’t fall.

you expected this.

you knew.

a thunderous knock echoes through your apartment, and your chest feels sourly numb as you open it.

there bakugou stands, face contorted with emotions you couldn’t read, sweatshirt wrinkly and backward.

“y/n—” he tries again but you don’t want to hear what he needs to say.

“I told you already, katsuki,” you say softly, the smile on your face small, knowing, yet somehow still kind. “I told you that it was okay. as long as it was my heart that broke, and not yours.”

you shrug again, watching his jaw drop but no words passed.

you inhale slowly, and smile wider at him.

“thank you for everything though, I really enjoyed myself.”

and before bakugou can even let out a whisper, the door clicks in his face.

[burnedbyshoto]

part 2 coming soon:)

[burnedbyshoto]

writing smut for bakugou is always a struggle because on one hand it would definitely be hot and heavy & just anyones wet dream when we take it at face value. but i’m also 100% certain that he’s a huge virgin nerd who doesn’t fuck or get bitches (canon) so everything he does in bed screams huge virgin nerd & honestly I think that it’s so much more funnier that it has to be canon.

the boy great at most things except fucking. cuz let’s be real. he’s not fucking, even if he does eventually get bitches.

“i’m a virgin because I don’t lose anything!” bakugou katsuki to kaminari denki (probably) at a bar 10 drinks further than any of his friends (minus deku because they’re competitive idiot rivals) because, once again, he doesn’t (like to) lose anything.

[burnedbyshoto]

tags: ntr, reader cheating on irrelevant bf, dubconish

you were dating your childhood best friend kaisuke. he was truly a great guy! sweet, kind, a great listener, and more than anything, head over heels with you.

his words were sweet, his kisses even sweeter. on the surface, there was nothing wrong with him… but if you were being honest, his dick was too small and he just couldn’t fuck you right.

you were each other’s first, so you understood at first, but… three months later and no gentle instruction was getting him to improve. but you aren’t a slut, you chide yourself. you were fine with mediocre — at best — sex!

“you’re not a slut!” you whisper to yourself, eyebrows furrowed as you continue to scrub scrub the dirty dishes in the sink. “you’re not!”

“you’re not what?” a sharp voice interrupts your thoughts. you freeze, the voice deep, raspy, and smooth against your spine.

you turn to see red eyes looking at you curiously, but a face set with an overconfident, asshole smirk.

“nothing, bakugou.” you huff, turning back to the dishes, and proceed to think about how you could best implement a way to teach kaisuke how to fuck you correctly. he was going to pick you up from work tonight after your shift, claiming that a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t walk home at night, maybe you could—

“what are you doing?!”

the skirt you wore was flipped upward, large hands lingering against your ass, and a sharp snap of your thong against your ass.

you move to twist around and shriek, ready to physically fight your same age manager, but instead his much larger, stronger body is pressed against you. a hand slipping between your trembling thighs and the other shutting off the water before grazing your chest.

“you’re not a slut, hah?” bakugou whispers in your ear, calloused fingers drawing fire against your skin. “you seem pretty unsure about that.”

“let go of me!” you yell, shoving your back against his body, but he doesn’t even budge a millimeter. the counter presses into your thighs, and even though you twist to try and slam your heel on his toes, you— “let—!” oh.

something hot, heavy, thick, and impossibly large presses against your ass.

“hmmmmmm?” bakugou rasps, hips grinding slowly, intentionally against you. “let what? do you need something, slut?”

your throat constricts, and you can feel your mouth water at the feeling of the giant dick pressing into your back. your back arches against your will, images of what it would feel like to have that in you— no! you snap straight. you were in a loving relationship. you loved kaisuke!

“i’m in a relationship with kaisu—”

“oh please, I know exactly who you’re dating,” bakugou states, hans finally slipping under your thong to press against dripping wet folds. “I know why you’re so fucking dissatisfied.”

“i’m n-not, ahhhnn— I’m NOT disssaaaaaatified with kaisuke!!!” you whine, head snapping against his chest as thick rough fingers sink into your pussy. you have half a thought that his fingers are more filling than kaisuke’s dick. his fingers begin to thrust up into you, and you begin grinding down on him.

“we went to high school together, remember? gym and the sauna, trust me, sweetheart, I know what he’s packing.” bakugou chuckles against your neck, teeth nipping and running against your budding skin. “no wonder why you were thinking of a plan to get him to fuck you correctly.”

“how did you—”

“you mumble so loudly,” bakugou snorts, his fingers pausing in their thrusting conquest, leaving you trembling and whining. but you’re at a point where you don’t know if you say fuck it and finish what’s already started, or just leave. “how about I help you out, hm?”

“w…what?” you ask, eyes rolling backward as his thumb teases and presses smooth rolling circles against your clit, and the other hand that had under your shirt and tugging at swollen, puffy nipples leaving your body. “baku—”

the sound of a lowering zipper rings loudly in your ear, as well as the slicked, throbbing head of his dick pressed between your asscheeks.

“what do you say?”

…

you’re not sure how long the two of you go at it, the way that his cock pounded into you at different angles, different position, different power, speed, and intention. his girth makes your head spin, but the length of his dick is known with everytime his head kisses your cervix.

what started off as protected sex evolved into bareback sex. he fucked against the cabinets, on the floor. it was humiliating, hot, sexy, the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. his skin is hot and sweaty against your body, you’ve cum so much you’re completely overstimulated, but it’s not enough.

“right there, bakugou!” you shriek, finger scraping down his back. “yes yes yes yes yesyes!!”

“fuck, you’re crazy,” bakugou grunts, still fucking you with insane stamina and control. “fucking cumslut if i’ve ever— fuck!”

you giggle almost insanely, loopy and euphoric as you clench greatly against him. his twitching throbbing cock in you nothing more than an amazing reminder of what you were doing. you can’t believe you ever thought kaisuke was enough. he’s not enough. because this was what you needed, what you wanted. what you craved.

“tell me what I want to hear,” bakugou grunts in your ear.

“noooo,” you deny, arms unwrapping from his broad back to cover your flushed cheeks. “I can’t! my heart belongs to kaisuke still!”

“oh?” he asks, hips coming to a halt immediately. he hums and looks to the side, grabbing something from the floor. “that’s fine then.”

you remove your arms from your eyes, confused at what he was saying and desperate to get him to fuck you again.

“just don’t let him know that just because he owns your heart, doesn’t mean that he has your fucking pussy.”

“w-wha—?”

something presses against your ear, and your stomach goes queasy for just a moment when a voice rings from the phone katsuki has pressed against your ear.

“hello? y/n-chan?”

“k-kaisuke!”

“i’m outside your job right now, are you almost done?”

your eyes widen, you had forgotten he was coming to pick you up!

“o-oh yes, i’m just finishING!” you shriek when bakugou suddenly begins fucking into you, his free hand rubbing figure eights into your clit almost as vigorously when he made you squirt earlier.

“are you okay?!” kaisuke asks worriedly, and you can almost see him moving to get out of the car.

“I-I’m— oh…”

bakugou leans down, pressing close against you and abandoning your clit for a moment to raise one of your hands to hold the phone for him. your arms tremble under its weight when hot breathes fan against your unattended ear. “don’t let him find out.”

you can barely let out a whine, shaking your head to not consent before he begins his earlier conquests.

“i’m okay!” you say quickly, the feeling of his balls slapping against your ass infuriating and maddening. “b-bakugou just has me doing eeextra chores!”

“ah… I see…” come kaisuke’s answer, nearly matched with bakugous breathy chuckle. “I hope nothing too bad!”

you laugh, trying to agree but it’s hard to keep up with your loving boyfriends conversation.

bakugou continues fucking you like your pleasure, the ability to make the coil in your stomach as tight and hot as possible, to make sure your curled toes could never curl again without the thought of him fucking you like a madman, was on stake.

you realized then, as you whined into bakugous sweaty throat, his fingers bruising your hips and teeth marking any exposed piece of flesh he could find, kaisuke could never do this.

your pussy and your heart would belong to bakugou. only bakugou.

“I love you,” you whimper, eyes dazed and so far away as you cum on katsukis dick. your words feed to kaisuke but meant for bakugou. and even though bakugou knew most of the conversation wasn’t for him, that piece was for him. the smirk blazing into your memory said so.

“ah! y/n-chan! i love you too! um.. well, get done quickly, i’m—“

bakugou hangs up the call immediately.

“you love me, hm?” he laughs, haughty and downright sinful. “I knew I could prove that fact to you, slut.”

kaisuke would drive you home that night. unaware of bakugous cum stuffed into your swollen, bruised pussy that slowly leaked out with each passing minute. you were practically sparkling as you sat in the passenger seat, unaware of kaisuke talking sweetly to you about how much he loved you too.

after all, you were reading a text from bakugou that was just a picture of his dick, already hard again, veins bulging and beautiful.

bakugou k.

[let me know when that extra is gone so I can come fuck you again sweetheart. let me be your new man.]

you giggle.

[come by in 20!]

[burnedbyshoto]

mmmm just rugby player deku fucking you in the locker room post-victory. he smells of sweat and grass, bruises and slashes on his skin, but nothing compares to the way his fingers grip your waist as he fucks you against the wall, his spare jersey the only thing left on your body.

the locker room is since deserted but your mewls and near shrieks are buried into his mouth and neck.

“told you it was a lucky jersey,” deku strains as slicked and sweaty skin slap against each other in maddening drive. “didnt I?”

if you couldn’t form a proper sentence, it would definitely be somewhat of an agreement.

[burnedbyshoto]

cw: omegaverse for funsies; single parent reader; omega gn reader; angst

“I thought you said you wouldn’t give up.”

shouto blinks at the empty space directly behind him and tilts his head, confused. slowly his eyes dart down to look at the young child who was your haunting duplicate.

“what do you mean?” shouto asks simply because in all reality, he doesn’t actually know what the problem is, much less that he’s given up on anything.

“my dam,” your child snaps, eyes watery, anger and sadness intermingling to create an emotion akin to fiery regret. “you broke up and now they’re… they refuse to cry and even if they’re wearing scent blockers right now, I know!”

shouto feels a pull at his chest. he has been pretty miserable since the break up too.

“I know you know that I don’t like you, but you promised me that you wouldn’t give up on my dam! so fix this! fix them! I hate them being sad!” the child cried, angry hot tears welling in their eyes. “f-fix it!”

silence filled the air between the two alphas, neither one speaking as they simply stare at each other.

“we didn’t… I didn’t give up,” shouto finally whispers first, head shifting so he didn’t have to look at the crying child. he doesn’t want to stare into a face that reminds him so much of you, so much of what he couldn’t keep. “we came to a consensus that it was best that I stop courting your dam.”

“why?!” they snarl, eyes wet and teeth bared.

shouto looks at his lap, eyebrows creased.

“it’s not my place to tell…”

-

“why’d you break up with todoroki-san?” your child grunts at you and you stop mid laugh, the cooking spoon in your hand suddenly too heavy.

“well, I just don’t think that he was the right fitting alpha for our small family,” you explain, voice controlled so that the real reason didn’t get out. “I wouldn’t ever want my alpha to butt heads with my baby, and he… he kept doing that with you, so… he had to go!”

your child is quiet because they know… they’ve known from the first interaction that they’ve put todoroki through the absolute ringer. refusing to be amicable, refusing to play as a team player, refusing to be kind, only choosing to be short, rude, mean. they knew todoroki was a bit of an idiot, how the alpha man merely blinked at each burning insult the child laid on him and responded each and every time that he wasn’t going to give up on their damn. how the alpha man slowly stopped being indifferent and accepting of every little angry tirade turned on him, but the gritted out words of how he wasn’t giving up never stopped. how todoroki finally one night furrowed his eyebrows and sharply asked for them to stop.

stop.

stop…

they remember going to their room at the end of that night, they thought they would feel triumph at getting that awkward man to break, the fact he forgot to say he wouldn’t give up was elating, but the sorrowful anger that emitted from you took away any sense of victory.

they lay in their bed, hearing the harsh whispers between their dam and the courting alpha. they couldn’t understand a single word, but the tone was undoubtedly frantic and pleading. at some point, hours later, the house goes quiet and the child listens to the saddest, smallest goodbye from both adults and the sound of a clicking door.

the child stands and watches from the hallway shadows as their dam throws away the untouched, spoiled dinner. you finish up the dining table and walk to the first courting gift todoroki gave you — a blanket — and slowly, as if it was pulling your nails from your fingers, you threw it away.

the child suddenly realized what it meant.

they won!

the lost sense of victory they once had comes back at full force. they won!

they run back to their room with glee, a blazing grin on their face as they laugh. no more stupid alpha todoroki.

their own scent overpowers the sad, sour scent of his dam only two doors down.

however, the next morning, the child blinked confused when they couldn’t smell you.

“ah, sorry, baby,” you quickly state, pressing a goodmorning kiss to their temple as you present breakfast on the table. “I felt like my scent was so strong today! didn’t want to overpower you.”

your child nods, accepting this answer for now, and spends the entire day happy to not have to hear the name shouto even once. they knew you were sad, but it would be okay. heartbreak was only temporary.

but two weeks later and the child feels frantic because you refuse to take off your scent blockers. the moments you slip into the shower is enough for them to know you’re utterly depressed. an omega who had to let go of an alpha they loved. the child realizes that you’ve neither confirmed the break up nor have cried a single time, but the disappearance of every single one of shoutos courting gifts scream even louder of the pain and truth.

the alpha man had… todoroki had given up.

so the child seeks out his dam’s failed courting alpha and snaps.

“you weren’t supposed to give up!”

and the words todoroki doesn’t speak are even louder.

“I didn’t want to,” his eyes whisper, “but I couldn’t keep being the reason why your dam cries at night.”

so when you finish lying to your child, they don’t move an inch.

“anyways, enough about todoroki! we decided it was best to stop courting, i’m not sure if you’ve noticed, haha! but it got me thinking that i’m an older omega, so I was being silly for thinking an alpha would want me! I think i’ll stay single again for some time, it’ll just be the two of us!”

and as your child reads your face, analyzing how you refuse to look at them, how your eyes are just the tiniest bit too watery, and the small tickle in your pitch.

they really fucked up.

————

I dunno, just a thought because i’m 7 days from presenting my undergraduate research project to my school & im freaking out because it has to be perfect because i’m going to be published for my work w anti cancer synthesis!

anyways, i’m kinda in a mood for single parent w a child who believes that no one is good enough to enter their family & drives out any potential suitor. usually it’s a bad suitor anyways, some fucko who their parent is actually better off with, but what happens when it’s the person who actually is the best? the parent, in my opinion, should try their best to pick the option that they both agree to when it comes to dating, ya know? and there’s only so many times the child can straight up reject the parents new partner they were already worried about introducing to before feelings begin getting hurt.

in this stories context todoroki & reader have been courting for quite awhile, several months before the child (nameless because I couldn’t conjure a solid image of them, although i’m leaning towards a masc. feeling child) was introduced to todoroki because yeah, they haven’t been welcoming to others and reader really likes todoroki. it was an act of selfish to keep todoroki away that long anyways, and to keep him around even though the child constantly complains, so when todoroki snaps back, the reader realizes that no, they can’t ignore it anymore. they argue mostly because reader can’t believe todoroki snapped on a child like that, and todoroki feels justified because yes they’re a child, but a line was crossed, it was completely disrespectful.

they do love each other, they love each other so much, but when shouto says that it’s okay, the child just needs more time to feel comfortable, that he’s not giving up, that the child won’t forever be blind to the pure respect and love he has does the reader see. their child will be forever blind going this rate … it’s been 7months and nothings changed.

the reader says something about how they’ve been blind this entire time, blind and selfish for wanting someone their baby doesn’t want around. so, the reader says they promised their baby they would never continue to see someone they didn’t approve of. and shouto immediately wilts because he knows what’s to come.

hours of repetitive circling arguments have ceased and the once warm kitchen is cold as the adults know what’s happened. shouto thanks the reader for allowing him to court them, and reader thanks for the courtship before they whisper goodbyes.

but as for a happy ending, i’m not sure…

because well, i’m not sure what shouto or the reader would do. I feel like they both would refuse to see each other and no child will be able to manipulate them into seeing each other. if they see each other, nothing goods to come & with the child still not on shoutos side, there’s no point. the child still doesn’t like shouto, after all, but they’ve come to accept that shouto and reader care so deeply about each other.

imagine it as you will, happy where the child brings them back together and learns to accept and love shouto as their father. sad where they refuse to meet again, luck never on the child’s side, and years later when the two adults have moved on with someone new, the child turned teenager can tell that while the new alpha is much more likable than shouto was, your nowhere near as happy. it’s a safety net relationship, not a passionate one. and of course the turned teenager has to open the door to find shouto outside with a bouquet of flowers, looking nervous and determined. the teenager blinks rapidly, unsure what to say until your fingers press into their shoulder and for a moment the teenager sees the joy and love springing in your face, so much stronger than what you ever give the alpha currently residing on the couch. but reader sees the look on the teenagers face and misinterprets it for discomfort and annoyance at shouto, and the joy and love are gone as reader shakes their head. “i’m sorry, shouto,” you simply say. “I… can’t still.” and the guilt your child feels will never fade, and the hauntingly sad eyes they see from both shouto and from you will make them cry later that night.

[burnedbyshoto]

there’s this line I read awhile ago, it was part of some comic I can’t remember from who, but the flavor????????

“I can’t promise I won’t break your heart.”

“…that’s okay, as long as it’s mine, and not yours.”

like imagine this:

being 26 years old, 8 years into a friendship with bakugou katsuki. as far as you know, he’s never really had a stable relationship.

sure bakugou katsuki is a very upfront person, what you see is basically what you get. the loud angry screams, the cursing, the sometimes demeaning nicknames, the molten hot glare. he’s that with no problem, but he’s also a lot more quieter than strangers would expect, quiet, calculating, a perfectionist in everything that losing cannot be an option.

maybe that’s why when people slip into his bed for the night, a quick and easy way for him to release stress, and they think just for a moment: “I’ll be different, I’m not like the others” because he prefers them for more than one night, they fall apart when one day he drops them.

screaming, crying, and shrieking follows him as they all blame him for their broken heart. even though the very first night when his fingers hooked under their shirt, he warned them: this is just sex.

it’s just sex for him, never for them.

but a scandal breaks loose one day, because even if he was a top three pro hero, not even his title could save him from the wrath of the daughter of a multibillion dollar investor. his sex life is outed, and when old partners come forward to say that yes, he lead them on and dropped them at the first convenience!!!! his ability to pick up on partners tanks.

but you’ve been in love with bakugou for the past two years, quietly waiting for him to get to the stage of being ready to manage a romantic relationship on top of his career. and you notice his tense shoulders and quicker temper. your friends he used to sleep with have partnered off already, happily in committed relationships with no room for bakugou.

it’s after the third wailing intern that you finally approach and give him your offer.

“i can’t promise I won’t break your heart,” he huffs, half joking, half bitter from the avalanche of bad pr he’s been through.

you stare at him, knowing it’s stupid to even try, but you shrug slowly, “that’s okay…” his eyes meet yours. “as long as it’s mine and not yours.”

so a relationship begins. the two of you begin having sex that sends your head into the sky, and your heart further into your throat. everyone, your friends especially, tell you it’s a bad idea.

don’t casually sleep with someone you love.

it never ends well.

but you don’t listen.

bakugou comes over for sex once a week, which slowly evolves into two to four times. sleeping over slowly happens, and breakfast and lunch is sometimes even shared. he swipes food from your plate, and you rant about your terrible day. he walks you home after drunken nights out with friends, and clothes slowly bleed into each other’s closets. his nickname for you is dropped soon enough, and it’s just your first name that rolls off his tongue that makes you want to shiver.

some nights you don’t even have sex at all. just bodies pressed against each other with heavy eyes and tracing fingers.

but you show up unannounced one day, nothing out of the blue because you both do it practically every day. both your orders from a take out restaurant in your hand, and case files in another. you just wanted to have dinner with him and go over work.

words ring through your memories as you watch bakugou stand straight up off the couch, a person with blue hair tumbling off his lap immediately.

you’re not naive, not a fool. you see ruffled hair, a shirt that’s halfway off, and red eyes that scream: fuck.

but you remember his warning, his heed, and even if it’s been a year and a half of whatever this was — friends with benefits, you remind yourself coldly — you don’t react.

“sorry!” you apologize, hands slamming back to the doorknob, trying to give them space. “I didn’t realize you were having someone over tonight! please continue!! ignore me!!”

“the least you can do is leave the food behind,” the stranger huffs on the floor, once flushed cheeks pale. excited eyes now fed up.

you freeze, but nod in agreement, you didn’t need to eat this food anymore. plus bakugous order was in it.

“y/n—“

“consider this my apology!” you laugh, the sound much more natural then you ever thought possible. “have fun, you two!”

you’re home faster then you can blink, and your couch with his burnt orange blanket on it seems like a joke.

still, the tears don’t fall.

you expected this.

you knew.

a thunderous knock echoes through your apartment, and your chest feels sourly numb as you open it.

there bakugou stands, face contorted with emotions you couldn’t read, sweatshirt wrinkly and backward.

“y/n—” he tries again but you don’t want to hear what he needs to say.

“I told you already, katsuki,” you say softly, the smile on your face small, knowing, yet somehow still kind. “I told you that it was okay. as long as it was my heart that broke, and not yours.”

you shrug again, watching his jaw drop but no words passed.

you inhale slowly, and smile wider at him.

“thank you for everything though, I really enjoyed myself.”

and before bakugou can even let out a whisper, the door clicks in his face.

[burnedbyshoto]

idk what’s so appealing about midoriya deku izuku being an elite and sweet man whore????

like he’s just a sweet boy with curly hair and pretty eyes and soft freckles on a pretty face. but he’s also buff arms and legs, scarred thick fingers, with a well known fierce grin and possessive protective tendencies to make girls, gays, and theys.

and so it begins in high school. class 3-a first sex scandal between classmates gets out & one part of the scandal is izuku. everyone can’t believe it because literally the entire campus watched him cry in all mights arms after winning the sports festival last week.

a crybaby??? getting laid???

nah. a joke.

but then another story comes out. another person in izukus class has now slept with him.

and sure the first person he slept with had much praise and worship for the hero of the world but that’s just between virgins and a single person. it doesn’t mean much.

but again and again, midoriya izukus name is beginning to be paired with taking peoples virginities and being not only a complete sweetheart the entire time they talked, but absolutely rocking their fucking world.

his crybaby traits get pushed back to highlighting how gentle, sensitive, and kind this hero is all while being dripping sex.

ANYWAYS!!!!!¡¡ virgin reader who is fucking pissed off about all this damn talk because izuku is her best friend and she’s soooo damn fucking tired of everyone approaching her to see if there’s anyway she could help to make them izukus person of the week. don’t even get started on the people who think reader wants him!!!!

but one day it happens.

a hang out with the girls at a bar, and one too many drinks has everyone spilling about their sex lives — again. reader typically doesn’t pay attention to this shit because why would she, she’s a virgin by choice and definitely doesn’t want to hand hers to any loser. and then for whatever damn reason — definitely not the fact that izuku enters the bar with a navy blue dress shirt that’s too tight across his chest with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that has the conversation dipping about fucking midoriya izuku.

it’s not that reader doesn’t know that all her friends — former class 3-a — hasn’t slept with the green eyed beauty, but hearing a collective voice of how good and great he is & how it took months for current partners to be as good as he naturally was has reader even more pissed. and so it was definitely the alcohol and the whispering stories of izuku in bed and how izuku saw you all at the bar and came over and pressed up next to you with a friendly grin and a casual arm over your shoulder.

so when he has himself pressed against your knees as you chat with him on the bar stool, his eyes bright with mirth and dimples just peeking out as you find yourself drinking slowly at of your empty cup, does it hit you.

“have sex with me.”

and the world knows midoriya izuku as the ever confident hero deku. a select population knows midoriya izuku has a walking sex god. but few and far between have ever seen midoriya izuku turn bright red and chomp on his tongue at any proclamation. so when he flushes and stammers, you feel already on cloud nine because this is new. and as you drag him away to your apartment, you continue to wave away his squawking questions saying that you were ready to have sex and no you didn’t care that he was as experienced as he was. and when you press a rushed kiss to his gaping lips, you’ll never forget the expanding pupils or the way he trembled beneath your fingers.

“i’ve wanted you for forever,” you say, front door locking behind you as your fingers find the zipper to your clothes. “why should I deny myself now that I have your attention?”

pls ignore how i completely abandoned the reader person in favor of using you because my brain couldn’t handle it. anyways I just fucking loveeeeeeeeeeeee the: midoriya izuku is the best at sex but will also be an absolute gentleman about your entire experience with him. and anyways izuku is def in love with you and y’all live happily ever after.

[burnedbyshoto]

okay so i was at the gym & listening to a new workout playlist spotify made for me and sk8er boi came on.

I thought about how I would make a song like sk8er boi into an au because well,,,, it would make such a great story imo!!!

but not an avril!reader x skater!whoever (maybe shinsou? tokoyami? I dunno who I envision skater boy is, so by all means, fill in that blank all on your own for now)

imagine it from ballerina!reader x skater!whoever.

it’s high school romance. enemies to lovers au. forbidden romance au. good girl/bad boy trope. it’s burning all consuming love that’s being snuffled out by society, by friends, by themselves. it’s reader trying to be themselves but needing to meet standards placed on them by people they can’t deny. it’s skater boy feeling like a traitor among his people but still trying. it’s passionate, ablaze, all consuming love in dark corners and when the moon is high. it’s first kisses, first drink, first high, and crazy sex with each other. but we all know how it ends. eventually the good girl can no longer “kid” herself. they can no longer fight the expectations the world set for her because although they could beat it, how is a 17 year old expected to provide for themselves in a world by themselves, outcasted and tormented. so they break up, because the ballerina can no longer fight the masses, can’t keep hiding because they’re meant to be seen on a stage, pretty, perfect, silent.

skater boy is hurt and destroyed because yes it’s young love, but that doesn’t mean it’s not love. even if everyone says so. everything between the two of them falls apart and they both graduate quietly, sadly.

then it’s 5 years later and then like the song, everything plays out. the ballerina sees the skater on their tv, eyes wide and for the first time in those five years, do they glisten with something.

the baby isn’t theirs, and they had to quit ballet three years ago because a serious accident. they’ve been so alone these past few years. and when they see skater boy on screen, jamming out on a band they do know but have never actually looked up before, they’re silent. a song plays, relaying teenage love and heartbreak and although skater boy isn’t the lead singer, ballerina knows it’s about them.

so they go to a concert with their “true” high school friends & they’re silent the entire concert as they look up at their former lover rocking out on stage.

ballerina staring wide eyed as they watch their past lover, sad yet thrilled to see the skater boy grinning and looking at peace.

the concert ends and everyone leaves. but ballerina finds themselves outside the venue, unable to move, but knows there’s no way in hell they’ll see skater boy. but by some angel above, skater boy is 50 feet in front of them, face buried in their phone and ballerina starts to call out to him but the lead singer comes out of no where and throws themselves into his arms and they kiss.

ballerina hasn’t actually cried since they broke up. even when they got a career ending injury. a tear hadn’t been sprung. but seeing the tender embrace, tears well up and now ballerina feels silly, humiliated, stupid, and plain fucking hateful towards themselves. how could ballerina ever stop believing in their love?

and since it’s 5 years post graduation, there’s the 5 year reunion and everyone shows up.

so uh,,, choose because although I love angst, sometimes I do be choosing a happy ending.

sad ending (no reconciliation between skater boy and ballerina girl):

they meet at the reunion and ballerina apologizes for their past. skater boy is still a bit peeved but accepts it. rolling eyes and walking off. ballerina tries to keep talking and everyone watches because although most of their relationship was a secret, their breakup was hot fucking news and well, who doesn’t love drama when it doesn’t involve them.

comments and whispers of ballerina being fake, a gold digger, trying to be a homewrecker start rising. and ballerina just wants to repair what they broke.

but skater boy won’t allow them. he doesn’t want to repair something he no longer cares for and says that the breakup lead him to a happy life & frankly he doesn’t believe in teenage mistakes. they wouldn’t have made it in the real life, skater boy insists and says that if ballerina doesn’t leave him alone, he’ll have no issue in making sure ballerina won’t ever talk or look his way again.

overall just very heightened angry emotions that leaves both of them extremely angry (skater boy) and crying (ballerina).

happy ending (because i’m now considering this story & I do be liking my happy endings now because i’m weak and have been slaughtered with angst):

the reunion goes well, ballerina simply approaching and saying sorry for everything. saying that they wished they had been more mature back then to be a better partner to skater boy. they congratulate the skater on becoming a famous star because they knew it was always his dream. skater boy doesn’t say anything, just nods and ballerina smiles softly before rejoining their friends.

at the end of the night, as ballerina waits for an uber to pick them up, skater boy approaches and asks softly how their ballet career is going. and ballerina confesses that it ended because of a petty mistake.

and as they wait in the chill of a summer night, they recount the years they’ve been parted. skater boy apologizing for the ballerinas destroyed dreams, to which they shrug and say that it was okay. being a ballerina was more of their parents dream, ballerina always just sort of wanted to be a home keeper. it’s a bit awkward, and still entirely cautious discussion. but they end on a good note, exchanging numbers as the uber rolls up before them.

and so they start texting. texting turns to phone calls, and ballerina eventually discovering that the lead singer was not dating the skater boy anymore. they were fwb turned lovers but realized that they were much better off as friends. and after two years of slowly building back a tarnished relationship, ballerina confesses once more and skater boy, home from tour, kisses them softly.

[burnedbyshoto]

dedicated to the man who became my gym buddy & eventually we fucked in his car:

quirkless au, yum, & nsfw so aha

bakugou katsuki is a gym rat.

he drinks protein shakes like water, down pre workout like it’s candy, and spends so much time at the gym his phone believes the gym is possibly his house or his workplace.

he typically comes into the gym with black sweatpants on and a compression shirt, a hoodie always in his hand as he scans his membership card and stalks into the gym with his huge water jug. the smell of sweat and pulsating testosterone is no longer recognized by him, and the lingering looks of both regulars and new members never faze him as he enters the wide open space for warm up.

bakugou katsuki is meticulous in his workout routine. everyday, even his rest day, has something specific for him. mondays is upper body. tuesdays lower body. wednesdays chest and arm. thursdays quads and calves. friday back. saturday glutes and hamstrings. sunday is cardio. every week he takes a break from a single day.

it works for him.

and he doesn’t care what his friends say.

but as he’s warming up one day, head peeking up from his form, he sees you doing chest presses, or at least attempting to do so. his eyebrows furrow at your terrible form, the obvious curve in your body that shouldn’t be there, the way your hands are way too close to each other, the bar tilting on most likely your more dominant side way too much, and your feet flailing in the air.

it’s bad posture, but after a long work shift, bakugou has no energy to correct it. he figures another gym rat would help you.

well that is until the bar shakes, your arms give, and you squawk.

bakugou katsuki is known in his gym for being only about himself, sure he’ll share his routine if you ask, he’ll even give you an extra protein shake, or a sip of his water if you’re an insane person who didn’t bring your water, but it’s a known law that he doesn’t help with form and he doesn’t spot anyone.

but no one is around, and even though the 60lb bar will most definitely not hurt you, he finds himself lifting the bar off your chest with an irritated snarl as you gasp and splutter for air. you were not choking.

“oh my god, thank you so—“

“shut up!” he barks in your face, slamming the bar onto the holder with much more force then necessary. “the hell you think you’re doing, idiot? you trying to break your back and ribs?! get a fucking spotter before doing shit you’re not ready for!”

“oh,” you blink, head tilting a bit, your own frown on your face. “well, I don’t know anyone, and no one is here except you? and you weren’t here be—“

“doesnt fucking matter! wait until someone shows up!”

“uh, I needed to do that for my circuit though. according to gymtok I should be doing a lot of things that I haven’t been doing. so I was just trying things out.”

“…what the fuck is a gymtok?”

“oh! tiktoks for gym workouts!” you exclaim grabbing your phone with obviously sore arms before showing the plentiful of preplanned workouts by what bakugou immediately knows are gym posers.

ANYWAYS

thus begins the weirdest friendship bakugou begins as you become attached to his side at the gym, undeterred and overall completely unaffected by every snarl, growl, and screech sent your way. eventually he gets you on his own workout schedule and the two of you even shoot a scoop of pre workout in the parking lot together.

the first time you took his preworkout was the first and last time because it was so highly concentrated that not only did you create new personal records for every machine and free weight, you managed to fit an entire weeks workout into a single day and promptly pass out on the bench outside the gym.

he knows you’re flirting eventually, but he’s a prude and trying to keep his head in the game. and even though you both are frequently texting throughout the day and even go to eat together after workouts 3 times a week, he refuses to let your stupid lips anywhere near his because he’s a virgin prude and he gets nerv— I mean… he’s just busy… ahem…

and eventually you ask if he wants to do a gymtok with him. and it must be because you managed to sling him over your shoulders and squat his weight without so much as a tremor in your form, and he was impressed with elation, excitement, and burning hormones in his dick, he says yes.

he gives you complete fucking consent to do whatever you want.

so you smile sweetly and say, “i’m going to be your savior because you don’t have a spotter. when I save you, you keep doing reps like nothing happened.”

so with a measly bar and 45lbs on each side (his warm up set from three years ago, btw) he does as requested. letting his arms pretend to give out.

but…

oh…

fucking….

HELL!

he feels your ass sitting millimeters above his crotch, and sees your pretty fingers grasp the bar and push it up.

bakugou is harder than a diamond and the bar gives, crushing his chest.

eventually the two of you are able to get the bar off him and he falls onto the floor, stomach down, flexing his biceps and thigh, desperate to erase his boner as you chirp frantic worries around his head.

anyways, he storms away, finally boner free and is just pissed. ignores you the entire rest of his workout routine and is focused on his reflection in the mirror only. but on his way out, compression shirt off his body and sling on his shoulder, you’re waiting with a face he can’t read.

“you know, I think you need to be laid,” you sigh as he pushes past you to where his car waits. “don’t you think?”

bakugou nearly trips and falls on his face, but he plays it off (not really). he snaps his head towards you, full on furious because that might be exactly true but he doesn’t need some little shit that he taught everything to, to tell him that!

“you think I need to be fucking laid?! you know what I think you need?!” he splutters, face flushed red and gym bag dropped by the wheel of his car.

“to be fucked by you?” you respond with lidded eyes and seductive steps his way. all words die on his lips as you’re suddenly in front of him. “cuz I think I really need that too. besides, what’s the point of all that strength if it’s not being used to fuck people in every way imaginable?”

bakugous not entirely sure who kisses who first. he was already seeing red at that point, but he does know that you’re shoving him into the passenger seat of his car and the seat is reclined all the way down with a slam.

it’s messy and a bit gross. the faint smell of BO is eventually washed out with hormones, dripping sex, and sweat. his fingers and pressing around your sweet spots, and bakugou nearly blacks out when your soft, hot, and dripping wet sex presses down and consumes his dick.

he fucks you so well that you hobble around the gym for a solid week & everyone just assumes you went hard on leg day ;)

sex soon becomes your guys cool down routine :)

anyways, I was just thinking about stupid gym rat bakugou who hella needs to get laid and gym regular reader who actually knows what they’re doing but saw bakugou one day and decided they wanted him. and because I love happy endings, they obvi get married & fuck in their limo as a nod to the beginning of their romantic relationship.