you're stronger than the tide

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[citrustsuki]

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⤷ lana! | she/her | 20 | music major | multi-fandom | african american | requests are open!

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©️citrustsuki 2024. do not modify, edit, copy, or repost works to other sites. all rights reserved.

[sincerely-star]

⋮ 𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆as political tensions rise and opposition against you grows more dangerous, you survive three attempts on your life before disappearing without a trace, forcing katsuki and eijiro to tear through the kingdom in a desperate search while threats from anti- royal extreamist “the unseen” push the realm closer to chaos.

⧼ 🏵️ ⧽ ∿ pairings 。 ⸝⸝ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima 𓄲 genre ⨾ tropes 。 alternative universe (au: fantasy), romance, arrange marriage, polyamorous romance, mature themes, explicit sexual scenes 𓏲 contains 。 ᵎᵎ nsfw, 18+ only mdni, language, dark!kiribaku, world building, barbarian/dragon king!katsuki, dragon hybrid!eijiro, princess!reader, political marriage, slight misogyny, death, attempted murder, poison, sexual assault, torture scenes, kidnapping, arson, smut, threesome, dirty talks, dom!katsuki, softdom!eijiro, unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasm, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink, slight degradation, anal, spooning, reunion sex, pet names (princess, sweetheart, queen, good girl) ꩜ ⋆.˚ word count 。 22.9k ꔛ

꒰ star speaks ꒱ ✮ i got carried away >_< this is what happens when you write for month. . . good lord !! thank you for the INSANE response to the first part. like i said before, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but a lot of you loved the world so much, that i just had to make this into a series !! enjoy ‹𝟹 !!

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“a queen is eternally faithful to her king.”

your mother had spoken those words to you so many times throughout your childhood that even now, months into your marriage, they still lived somewhere deep inside your mind like scripture carved into stone.

you could still remember the feeling of sitting perfectly straight beside her in the sunlit chambers of the emerald empire while she corrected the tilt of your chin with careful fingers and reminded you over and over again what your purpose in life would one day become.

a queen was loyal. a queen was graceful. a queen did not question the path laid before her because her path was already decided the moment royal blood entered her veins.

your mother had always spoken calmly during those lessons, never cruel, never harsh, but firm enough that her words rooted themselves permanently inside you.

she taught you that the essence of a queen was not power itself but devotion to the one who held it.

the king’s burdens became yours to carry. the king’s enemies became yours to endure. the kingdom he ruled became the kingdom you protected beside him.

she taught you that whatever belonged to the king would someday belong to you as well, including his responsibilities, his wars, his victories, his grief, and his people.

you remembered sitting beside her as a little girl while she brushed oils through your hair and spoke softly.

“a king bears the weight of the crown openly,” she once told you. “a queen bears it quietly. that is why queens survive.”

at the time, you had not fully understood what she meant. you only nodded because you were obedient and eager to please, just like she raised you to be.

your mother taught you that being queen was easy compared to being king.

while kings exhausted themselves with politics, war, council meetings, alliances, treaties, and the endless pressure of ruling, a queen was there to represent something far softer.

a queen was meant to symbolize stability, peace, unity, prosperity, and most importantly, the future generation of rulers.

just like how you had been raised to someday become the wife of the next ruler of the scarlet region, your duty now as queen was to continue that bloodline and strengthen the throne through heirs.

that was your role.

to bear children for the king.

simple.

at least, that was what you were taught.

“it’s easy to be queen, my child,” your mother always told you. “once you have mastered the art of being that symbol, your people will adore you.”

you found yourself thinking about those words as you slowly walked through the gardens hidden deep within the scarlet castle, the soft sound of your shoes brushing against the stone path nearly drowned out by the quiet rustling of leaves overhead.

months had passed since your arrival in the scarlet region. months since your wedding to katsuki bakugo. months since you left behind the emerald empire to become queen of a nation built from fire, stone, blood, and ancient dragons.

and somehow, against all odds, this dark and brutal place had slowly started feeling like home.

your gaze drifted toward the scarlet lilies blooming near the center pond, their deep crimson petals standing proudly beside the emerald dewdrops your parents had shipped across the sea from your homeland. the contrast between the flowers should have looked strange together, but instead they blended beautifully beneath the filtered sunlight pouring through the glass dome overhead.

there had been no gardens in the scarlet castle when you first arrived.

not a single flower or greenery in sight.

the fortress had been made of black stone and iron, cold hallways and towering walls that looked carved from the mountain itself. everything about the castle felt harsh, beautiful in its own intimidating way but completely devoid of softness. there were training yards, war rooms, weapon halls, and old dragon stables larger than noble homes back in the emerald empire.

but no gardens.

you had complained about that constantly during your first few weeks there. and you continued to do so after your marriage.

and katsuki, being katsuki, had eventually snapped.

“if i order people to make you a damn garden will you finally shut the hell up ’bout those good for nothing flowers?”

you had only blinked at him in surprise while eijiro nearly choked trying not to laugh behind him.

three weeks later, an entire section behind the castle had been rebuilt into a massive enclosed garden dome solely for you.

it still stunned you every time you walked inside it.

the garden stood in sharp contrast against the rest of the scarlet region. while the castle outside remained dark and imposing beneath the shadow of the volcanic mountains, this place felt alive. warm sunlight filtered through the enormous glass ceiling overhead while vines climbed across iron arches and stone pillars. roses bloomed wildly beside scarlet tulips. thick green grass covered the ground in soft layers of fresh morning dew while winding stone paths led through clusters of flowers from both kingdoms alike.

there were lilies floating peacefully across the pond near the center while pale honeydew flowers curled along the edges of the pathways. rare scarlet region plants with dangerous beauty bloomed alongside the softer flowers from your homeland. some of them carried poisonous pollen. others only bloomed near volcanic heat. one of them opened only during nighttime beneath moonlight.

katsuki had apparently ordered every rare flower you ever mentioned brought there for you.

he still acted annoyed every single time you thanked him for it.

he complains first and acts later, you thought with quiet amusement. that seems to be his favorite way of loving people.

and strangely enough, being katsuki bakugo’s queen was easy.

that was the easy part.

your relationship with katsuki had changed slowly after the wedding, steady enough that you barely noticed it happening at first. he was still difficult. still loud, still aggressive and short-tempered and terrifying to almost everyone around him. he still snarled insults at people during council meetings. still barked at servants. still threatened generals when they annoyed him.

but somewhere between all of that, he had softened with you.

in his own way of course.

he visited your shared chambers nearly every day now regardless of how exhausted he was from ruling all morning. sometimes he stayed only for a few minutes before being called away again. other nights he practically collapsed onto the bed beside you with a growl under his breath while complaining about politics and “stupid old bastards wasting his damn time.”

you woke up beside him every morning now.

that alone still felt surreal some days.

every morning started the same way lately. katsuki waking up first because his body seemed physically incapable of sleeping past sunrise, then immediately dragging you closer against him before you could fully wake up yourself. there were mornings where you opened your eyes only to realize his face was buried against your neck while one arm remained locked tightly around your waist as if he thought you might disappear.

the first time it happened, you almost froze from shock. sure you and him have done lewd things to each other with his best friend, but when it came to domestic and soft moments like him cuddling into you… it was still a shock.

however, these days, it happens so often that it simply made warmth bloom quietly in your chest.

the two of you broke your fast together nearly every morning before duty eventually dragged him away. then once he begrudgingly left for council meetings, military discussions, war councils, and the endless responsibilities of ruling an entire kingdom, you spent your own mornings walking through the city alongside your ladies.

with protection… a ridiculous amount of protection.

that had been katsuki’s only condition.

you still remembered the argument clearly.

“you’re not walking around the city alone.” katsuki scoffed at you.

you rolled your eyes at him. “i would not be alone.”

“you know damn well what i mean. it’s no place for a queen to be walking around with peasants.” the tone in katsuki’s voice was final, the clank of his sword being tossed on the table following afterwards.

you walked towards him with a gentle caress of your hand on his back as you sighed, “my king, i simply wish to explore more of the region.”

katsuki turned to face you, his eyes not leaving yours. “and you can explore it with guards attached to your damn hips. you should be jumping in joy i even allowed you to parade around the city in the first place.”

and parade around the city you did.

sometimes katsuki himself accompanied you when his schedule allowed it. other times eijiro walked beside you instead along with your ladies and several trusted fighters from katsuki’s inner circle, usually sero and kaminari who somehow managed to turn even simple city visits into complete and utter chaos.

when eijiro was busy handling duties beside katsuki, sero and kaminari escorted you alone while constantly arguing with each other loudly enough to make your servants sigh in exhaustion.

you had first started visiting the city simply because you wanted to understand the kingdom you now ruled beside your husband. but over time, those visits became something far more important to you.

you visited schools, hospitals, smaller villages hidden near the mountain edges, and underdeveloped districts most nobles ignored entirely.

your mother taught you that a queen’s duty was to symbolize unity, and you found yourself clinging to those lessons stronger than ever here in the scarlet region. you listened to people, learned their customs, asked questions, and remembered names. you started bringing supplies during your visits. books for schools, medicine for healers, fabrics and blankets during colder weeks.

and slowly, people began warming to you. especially the common folk.

with your encouragement and constant persistence, katsuki eventually agreed to redirect more funding toward hospitals, roads, and schools in struggling areas throughout the region.

he complained the entire time.

loudly.

“you sound exactly like that damn nuisance deku,” katsuki snapped one evening while the two of you sat inside his chambers surrounded by paperwork. “that miserable wretch been nagging me for months about roads and hospitals.”

you calmly looked up from the documents in your lap. “that is because izuku is your political advisor, my love. advising you is quite literally his job.”

“the old geezers keep saying it’s a waste of money.”

“your councilmen,” you corrected carefully, “are not the ones struggling to survive harsh winters without proper roads or medicine.”

katsuki scowled at you from across the table. “we’re a military nation.”

“and military nations still require healthy citizens.” you met his eyes with an equal amount of challenge in them.

your husband merely clicked his tongue before sighing, “you’ve been spending too much damn time with deku.”

“perhaps because he is one of the only people in court willing to speak logically instead of politically.” you smiled softly at him.

katsuki’s eyes narrowed while yours remained calm.

then finally he groaned loudly before throwing his pen across the table. “you’re annoyingly fucking smart, wife.”

you smiled softly. “and yet you married me anyway.”

“wasn’t given much damn choice.”

“says the man who kisses me every morning as if i’m the air they breathe.”

“do i?”

“don’t you?”

katsuki glared while you tried very hard not to laugh.

then two weeks later, construction began on three new hospitals.

that was how katsuki loved.

loud complaints first, actions second.

you would mention something once, sometimes casually and without expectation, only for him to snap at you about how annoying you were being and how he had more important things to deal with as king.

then somehow days later exactly what you wanted would magically appear.

you once mentioned missing a specific emerald tea from your homeland. three days later crates arrived from the emerald empire.

you complained about the cold stone floors in your chambers. thick fur rugs appeared the next morning.

you quietly admired a necklace displayed by merchants during a city visit. katsuki tossed it onto your lap two nights later while growling at you not to “make a damn scene about it.”

being katsuki’s queen was easy.

being queen of the scarlet region, however, was not.

because despite the support from katsuki, eijiro, mitsuki, masaru, katsuki’s closest friends, his advisors, and the people you regularly visited throughout the kingdom, there was one group within the castle walls that refused to make your life easy.

the council.

or as katsuki so lovingly called them:

“the old geezers.”

katsuki’s council thought you were “a weak foreigner from a rich land who had been spoiled and bred to be sold off.”

the first time katsuki told you that, he had been sprawled lazily across the couch in your shared chambers after a long council meeting while you sat nearby brushing oils through your hair before bed.

the fire crackled softly inside the hearth while the cold winds outside rattled faintly against the stone walls of the castle, but inside the room was warm enough that katsuki had already discarded most of his upper layers, leaving him in nothing more than loose dark pants while scars and muscle stretched across his bare skin beneath the firelight.

he had sounded irritated when he said it. he was not hurt for you… he was angry. he was furious because apparently one of the councilmen had been dumb enough to say it loud enough for him to hear.

you, however, only blinked once before tilting your head slightly. then you shrugged. “well,” you said simply, “that is true for the most part.”

silence.

then katsuki barked out a sharp laugh so sudden it echoed through the room. “you seriously don’t give a damn, huh?”

you glanced at him through the mirror. “should i?”

“most people would probably cry or some shit.”

“they are not entirely wrong,” you answered honestly. “i am a weak princess from a rich and foreign land. i was spoiled by my family. and i was raised knowing i would one day marry for political gain.”

katsuki stared at you for a long moment after that. then his expression darkened, not toward you but toward your words.

you barely had time to set your brush down before he suddenly stood from the couch and walked toward you. his heavy steps echoed softly against the stone floor until he stopped directly in front of where you sat. then rough fingers grabbed your chin without warning, tilting your face upward until your eyes met his.

his vermillion eyes burned into yours intensely beneath the firelight. “quit saying your weak like it’s a damn fact,” he muttered.

you blinked softly at him, confused. “w-what?”

katsuki clicked his tongue in irritation before tightening his hold slightly, though never enough to hurt.

“i told you once already and i’ll say it again, so get it through your pretty little head,” he growled. “you crossed kingdoms and left behind every damn thing you’ve ever known to marry some bastard king you never met before without complaining once. you walked into a foreign court full of assholes who wanted you gone and still held your head high through all of it.”

his eyes narrowed sharply. “that alone makes you ten times stronger than those old bastards sitting in my council pretending they know shit about sacrifice.”

your breath caught slightly because katsuki rarely spoke like this… about what he felt and thought of you.

his thumb brushed briefly against your jaw before he scoffed and looked away as if annoyed by his own honesty. “damn woman,” he muttered under his breath. “always acting like you’re fragile when you’re tougher than half the idiots in this castle. you’re my wife for fucks sake. my wife is strong.”

my wife is strong.

warmth spread slowly through your chest at his words. because the strange thing about katsuki was that he always sounded angriest when he cared the most.

still, despite having katsuki himself defending you at every turn, it did not stop the whispers.

the whispers never truly stopped.

you heard them during court gatherings when nobles thought you were too far away to notice. you heard them during feasts, during parties, during political meetings. sometimes even from passing servants who quickly lowered their heads in fear once they realized you heard them.

you heard whispers that the only true benefit you brought the scarlet region was emerald trade from your homeland.

you heard whispers that katsuki should have married a noble woman born from the scarlet region itself instead of a foreign princess too soft for their brutal kingdom.

you heard comparisons constantly.

especially toward mitsuki.

katsuki’s mother had been born and raised within the scarlet region. she was loud and fierce and terrifying in a way that commanded attention instantly. even now, years after stepping down as queen, people still spoke about her with admiration.

she fit this kingdom naturally.

she belonged here.

meanwhile, you heard whispers saying you never truly would belong. despite mitsuki herself scoffing and reassuring you in her own motherly yet harsh way that you were the perfect woman for his son, it still didn’t stop.

and then there were the whispers about another woman entirely.

a noblewoman.

the daughter of general utsushimi.

you had never formally met her yourself, though you had seen glimpses of her during court gatherings. she was beautiful, poised, sharp-eyed, and most importantly, born from an old and respected scarlet lineage.

from what little you overheard, many members of the council had hoped katsuki would marry her long before your engagement treaty existed.

she was scarlet born.

powerful, familiar, and acceptable.

but your kingdom’s wealth and influence had outweighed all of that in the end. still, it did not stop tongues from wagging behind your back.

sometimes it exhausted you more than you cared to admit.

which was why you threw yourself into learning.

if they believed you weak and foreign, then you would learn everything you possibly could about the scarlet region until nobody could question your devotion to it.

you studied constantly during your free time. you studied history, ancient traditions, dragon lore, old scarlet dialects and forgotten languages, military customs, and political histories. you spent hours buried in books nearly every day, and unfortunately for you, katsuki had immediately insisted on helping teach you.

the problem was that katsuki was absolutely horrible at teaching.

“why are there so many different symbols for one word?” you asked one evening while staring down at an ancient scarlet text spread across the table.

katsuki looked over your shoulder once before shrugging. “tch. because there just are.”

you stared at him. “that does not explain anything.”

“what do you want me to say? old dead guys made the language complicated.” your husband snapped back at you.

“that is not helpful, katsuki.” you sighed.

katsuki rubbed his hand over his entire face, regretting his decision to teach you. “it makes sense in my head.”

“are you sure your head isn’t full of air?” you smirked, your eyes not leaving the pages as you rest katsuki’s glare on your face.

“watch your mouth before i make it give me head. that’s one head i’ll prove filled with something that isn’t air, princess.”

“katsuki!”

you can imagine how that lesson ended… with you glistening in sweat and the mixture of your own release and katsuki’s as he smirked down at you, licking his lips as he crawled over your bare body for another round being the insatiable beast that he was.

another time, katsuki attempted teaching you sword terminology used in old scarlet battle records and nearly lost his mind halfway through.

after you butchered reading one whole sentence confidently, katsuki stared at you for three long seconds before groaning loudly and dragging a hand down his face. “you’re giving me a damn headache.”

you looked at your husband offended. “you offered to teach me.” your arms crossed to your chest with a huff.

“yeah, well, i regret it.”

eijiro, on the other hand, was infinitely more patient.

he never snapped when you asked questions repeatedly. he explained things slowly and carefully while smiling the entire time, genuinely excited that you wanted to learn more about his culture.

sometimes the two of you studied together in the library for hours. other times he took you directly around the castle and city while teaching you through stories instead of books.

“okay, so many, many years ago, when dragons still roamed the skies, the scarlet region didn’t view them as beasts,” eijiro explained one afternoon while walking beside you through one of the outer courtyards. “they’re more like sacred companions. protectors.”

you looked up at him curiously. “and hybrids?”

he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “depends who you ask.”

you frowned slightly. “what does that mean?”

eijiro smiled softly. “some people think hybrids are blessings from the old dragon gods.” he paused briefly before shrugging. “other people think we’re dangerous.”

your gaze immediately softened. “that is foolish.”

eijiro blinked at you before laughing warmly. “see? that’s why i like you.”

another evening, he sat beside you in the library translating ancient scarlet phrases while you carefully repeated them back to him.

whenever your pronunciation stumbled slightly, eijiro would smile. “nah, that one sounded way better, sweetheart.”

you playfully glared at the hybrid, pointing your finger at him. “you are just lying to make me feel better, ei.”

“i would never.” eijrio gasped before placing a hand on his chest, appalled.

“you absolutely would.” you smirked at him, knowing he’s the type to make you feel better.

he laughed loudly enough that the librarian nearly fell of their seat.

just like katsuki’s your relationship with eijiro blossomed naturally after the wedding night.

while katsuki stood beside you like a shield against the world, loud and explosive and viciously protective, eijiro became your calm.

katsuki protected you openly while eijiro protected you quietly.

katsuki glared at people until they looked away from you in fear while eijiro distracted you before their words could hurt.

during long political dinners, whenever someone made some passive aggressive comment toward you, katsuki would threaten to kill them and physically would stare them down with a knife against their throat while eijiro would immediately start making ridiculous faces behind their backs until you nearly laughed into your drink.

sometimes eijiro told you stories about dragons solely because he knew how fascinated you were by them. sometimes he simply sat beside you in silence when he sensed you were overwhelmed.

they made the scarlet region feel less lonely, less cold. and somewhere along the way, you realized how lucky you truly were.

because despite the whispers and judgment and pressure surrounding you constantly, you were still cared for in every possible way by both of them.

katsuki made you feel protected.

eijiro made you feel understood.

together, they made everything easier. even being queen.

they loved you unconditionally as well, and that realization had slowly settled itself into your chest over the last few months like warmth spreading through frozen skin.

it had not happened all at once. there was no grand declaration beneath moonlight and no dramatic confession spoken before witnesses.

the three of you existed in this strange and delicate space together where nothing had ever been officially spoken aloud, yet somehow everything had already been understood.

despite being married to katsuki, despite sharing his bed and carrying his name and standing beside him on the throne before the entire scarlet region, the relationship between the three of you still remained unnamed.

there were no titles attached to it. no discussions defining boundaries or expectations. and yet the understanding between all three of you existed naturally, so deeply rooted that none of you questioned it anymore.

words were rarely needed between the three of you now.

you knew katsuki cared whenever he silently moved his weapons away from your side of the bed because he hated the idea of you accidentally hurting yourself on one of his blades in the middle of the night. you knew eijiro cared whenever he unfolded his wings around you during colder evenings while pretending it was simply because he was comfortable that way. they knew you cared through the small things too, through the way you always waited for them before eating dinner whenever they returned late from duties, through the way your hands instinctively reached for them both whenever one stood close enough.

it had become second nature.

dangerously natural.

sometimes you wondered if the court noticed how obvious it truly was. then again, judging by the looks some of them gave the three of you during gatherings, they absolutely did.

still, neither katsuki nor eijiro seemed to care.

katsuki especially did not care. if anything, the dragon king only grew more possessive over time.

there were moments where it became almost impossible to ignore the tension that existed between the three of you, moments where the air felt heavier whenever you were all alone together behind closed doors.

the scarlet region had always been rougher by nature, more passionate and physical and shameless compared to the composed restraint you were raised around, and somewhere along the way you had slowly begun adapting to it.

or perhaps adapting to them.

because the three of you were insatiable when it came to each other. the vast royal chambers became your private world, a stage for an endless dance of desire.

the worst part was that neither of them ever looked guilty about any of it.

especially katsuki.

the king carried desire like something natural and unapologetic. if he wanted your attention, he took it. if he wanted you close, he dragged you into his lap without caring who might be watching. he treated affection with the same intensity he treated everything else in life, aggressively and without restraint.

eijiro at least attempted to behave sometimes.

it could begin with a simple touch. katsuki’s hand brushing yours as he passed you a document, the spark igniting something that would lead to him pushing you against the wall of his study within minutes, his mouth hungry on yours while eijiro watched with a quiet, approving smile from the doorway before joining.

or it could be a lazy afternoon where eijiro would nuzzle at your neck while you read, his hands roaming until you dropped the book entirely, surrendering to the slow, thorough worship he offered, only for katsuki to return and see the scene, his possessive growl adding a new, sharper edge to the intimacy.

there was no schedule, no predictable time. desire was a constant, low hum in the background of your life, ready to flare into a roaring blaze at any moment.

you, the refined princess from a land of order, sometimes prided yourself on your control.

you were the calm center in their storm.

you liked to give both of them a hard time, a playful scolding that was really just another form of affection.

when katsuki’s hands would find you too insistently during a serious conversation, you would push him away with a stern, “we are discussing grain yields from the eastern provinces, your majesty. your hands have their own duties elsewhere.”

he would smirk, that infuriating, knowing smirk, and lean back, but his eyes would promise retribution later.

when eijiro’s constant, warm presence became too distracting, his tail curling around your ankle under the table, his head resting on your lap demanding attention like a large, affectionate beast, you would sigh and say, “eiji, must you? i am trying to write a letter.”

he would just blink his crimson eyes slowly and nuzzle closer, his silent persistence winning every time.

it was, you often thought with a private smile, shocking how eijiro often exhibited more restraint.

he was the hybrid, the one whose very biology included cycles of intense, driving heat that could, according to studies, make even the most disciplined warriors lose their minds.

yet it was katsuki, the human king with the title and the will, who was often the most uncontrollable. his philosophy was simple: “i am king. i get what i want.” and what he wanted, most fervently and frequently, was you.

he saw no reason to delay or hide his desire. a look, a thought, and he would act upon it, dragging you away from whatever you were doing with a growled, “now.”

not that you complained.

his lack of control was a thrilling storm you willingly stepped into, a proof of his obsession that warmed you in a way no polite, restrained affection from your old life ever could.

eijiro’s control was different; he was holding back a vast power so it wouldn’t overwhelm you, but you could always feel its immense strength waiting beneath the calm surface.

and the second his control snaps… his passion rivals even katsuki’s

in fact, you lost count of the times. the number of encounters, the variations of debauchery, blurred together into a continuous, heated tapestry of your new life. it was not a single act repeated, but a spectrum of intimacy that shifted with the mood, the time, and the need.

sometimes, it was just you and eijiro.

with katsuki’s duties as king often pulling him away for hours, even days, into meetings and disputes, he had, with a gruff sort of consideration, implicitly placed it upon eijiro to be your comfort.

it was an unspoken decree: when you were needy, when the vastness of the castle felt cold, eijiro was your solace.

and despite acting like you have the moral high ground, you were often needy.

the growing, fierce possessiveness katsuki felt for you did nothing to diminish the dark, twisted heat that coiled in his gut.

in fact, it seemed to fuel it.

you knew, with a thrilling certainty, that during some of his most tedious council sessions, his mind would wander. he would picture it—you, bent over the desk in your solar, perhaps, with eijiro behind you, his powerful body moving against yours.

the thought would make his blood burn in pleasure, and he would return to you with a barely-contained ferocity.

katsuki could never deny you anything. you were his queen, his wife. you got everything you wanted whether you asked for it or not. and if the need was a different kind, a physical ache that made you restless, he saw to that too, either personally or by ensuring eijiro was there to sate you.

he might grumble about your distracting influence, but the second you expressed a want, it was yours.

sometimes, that was how you found yourself in the most wonderfully compromising positions with eijiro.

like the afternoon you were supposed to be studying the complex lineages of the scarlet noble houses.

eijiro, ever patient, was helping you, his deep voice a calm murmur as he explained alliances and blood feuds. you were distracted, though, watching the way the late sunlight caught the red of his hair, the focused line of his brow, the gentle curve of his mouth as he spoke. something primal and warm pressed inside you, an urge too strong to ignore.

you pounced on him.

that was an hour ago.

now, the parchments and books were scattered across the floor of your chambers, casualties of your sudden attack. you were on your back on the heavy oak table, sweat making your skin gleam under the candlelight, the scent of your shared release thick in the air.

eijiro was still moving inside you, his thrusts deep and relentless, his body a solid weight above you. you dug your nails into the hard planes of his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him to you as if you could fuse your bodies together. behind him, his leathery wings, usually kept tucked away, were partially unfurled, trembling with the force of his movements.

the room was filled with the wet, rhythmic sound of your joining, a steady plap plap plap that was obscenely loud in the quiet chamber. mixed with it were your breathy moans and his low, rumbling groans that vibrated through his chest into yours.

“so perfect,” eijiro growled, his voice rough with exertion. he lowered his head to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers. “you feel so good, sweetheart. so tight and warm f’me.” he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “could stay inside you forever.”

“ngh—eijiro,” you gasped, arching your back as he hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. “d-don’t stop… please.”

“never,” he promised against your skin, his pace increasing slightly. the table creaked in protest beneath you. “gonna make you cum again. gonna feel you squeeze me dry.”

then there were the times with katsuki, which were a different force of nature entirely.

it had become a force of habit for him.

he would stride out of a stressful war council, his expression thunderous, the air around him crackling with suppressed violence, and he would come straight for you.

he would fuck that frustration, that coiled aggression, out of his system using your body. sometimes he had the decency to drag you to your shared chambers, pushing you onto the bed before his belt was even undone.

but not always.

there was one memorable time in a secluded alcove off a main corridor.

you were passing by, minding your own business, when a strong arm shot out and yanked you into the shadowy recess. you were pressed against the cold stone wall before you could gasp, one of your legs hitched over his hip as he freed himself and pushed into you with a single, forceful thrust.

“shh, my love,” he had chuckled against your ear, his breath hot as he began a brutal, fast pace. his own frustration lent a rough edge to his movements.

“k-kats—oh, fffuuuck. they’ll hear…” you tried to stifle your moans, biting your lip until you tasted blood.

katsuki’s chuckle deepened, darkly amused. “then i guess you better keep quiet f’me, huh. dirty fucking girl.”

every time he opened his mouth it was a constant stream of filth as he drove into you. “that’s it… take it. take all this fucking frustration from me. my perfect little toy.”

the sounds were raw, the slap of skin against skin, his ragged grunts, your choked-off cries muffled against his shoulder. he came with a harsh groan, spilling inside you before pulling out and adjusting his clothes, leaving you trembling and disheveled against the wall with a final, possessive squeeze to your thigh and wink in amusement.

but the throne room incident was perhaps the most brazen.

katsuki had summoned you after dismissing everyone else, the echoes of his furious shouts still hanging in the vast, empty hall. you had heard he’d threatened to kill every lord present after a disastrous meeting.

you mentally thanked whatever gods listened that he’d cleared the room, because what followed was a spectacle of pure, unadulterated sin.

katsuki was seated on the massive obsidian throne, still clad in his formal robes which were undone and parted.

the second you arrived he pulled you onto his lap and without ceremony, positioned you over him and guided himself inside. then he leaned back, his arms settling on your hips with a firm grip, and let you do the workk. he looked up at you, his crimson eyes blazing with a mix of fury and lust as you bounced up and down on his huge cock.

your dress was undone, your corset hanging half-off, your breasts spilling over the top and covered in fresh bites and red marks from earlier. the sound of your bodies meeting filled the silent throne room; the sharp slap of skin, the wet slide, your combined moans and groans.

“mm’fuck, my king—oh! feel s’big in me, baby.” trusting him completely, you let go of his shoulders and leaned back further, arching until your back met his knees, using the leverage to ride him harder, trusting his strong hands on your hips to keep you from falling.

“look at you,” he growled, his head thrown back as he moaned. “my queen. bouncing on my cock in my throne room. so fucking dirty.” his hands gripped you tighter, sure to leave bruises. “beg for it. i wanna hear you beg for your king’s cock.”

“katsuki!” you cried out, your voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. you’d lost all decorum, not caring about the knights you knew were stationed right outside the heavy doors. “your so big… you feel s-so—fuck nghh, so good… please, please don’t stop! i want it all in me.”

your husband growled, the sound full of feral prid. “that’s it, princess. scream for me. let them all know who you belong to.” he thrust up to meet you, pounding into you with renewed vigor. “who makes you feel this good? huh?”

“you! only you, k-katsuki!” you sobbed, the coil within you winding impossibly tight.

“damn fucking right,” he grunted, before his own release took him, his roar of completion mingling with your scream as you shattered around him.

you loved those moments with each of them individually—the tender ferocity with eijiro, the stormy possession with katsuki. but you loved it most when it was the three of you together.

like right now.

you were in your bath late at night, submerged in warm, scented water up to your shoulders, finally alone after dismissing your attendants. you had wanted solitude, and as it turned out, you were right to have sent them away because the door to the bathing chamber opened without ceremony a few minutes later, and katsuki and eijiro walked in, fresh from a night hunt, their clothes smelling of cold air and forest.

the second their eyes landed on you, bare and relaxed in the water, and the intent was clear.

that was how you found yourself moments later, perched on eijiro’s lap as he sat on the submerged stone bench, his thick cock buried deep inside you. katsuki was behind you in the water, his chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady, the other hand guiding himself to your other entrance. with a slow push, he filled you from behind, making you cry out at the overwhelming stretch.

the room was suddenly full of sound. your overlapping moans and whimpers. katsuki’s low grunts and eijiro’s deeper groans. the wet, rhythmic slaps of skin meeting skin, amplified by the water. the loud sloshing as your combined movements displaced great waves of bathwater over the side of the large tub, pooling on the floor.

the bath was nearly half-empty by the time they found their rhythm—you grinding down on eijiro as he thrust up into you, while katsuki pounded into you from behind, his hand coming up to curl around your throat, not squeezing, just holding you in place against him.

“ah, mhgk fuck me… s-so full,” you babbled, your head lolling back against katsuki’s shoulder. “eijiro… katsuki… please…”

“taking us both so well,” eijiro groaned, his hands gripping your hips under the water, helping you move. his face was buried in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “our perfect girl.”

katsuki’s mouth was at your ear, his words a hot, dirty promise. “feel that? both of us—hah, oh, f-fuck—filling you up. stretching our queen out.” he punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made you see stars. “gonna be dripping with us for a damn week.”

the sensation was too much and not enough all at once. you were split open, claimed completely, caught between their two powerful bodies. the water churned around you, sloshing violently with every drive of their hips.

“katsuki, baby… i-i can’t… it’s too much…” you whimpered, even as you pushed back against him.

“yes you fucking can,” he growled, his hand tightening slightly on your throat. “you take what we give you. come on. you’re a good girl, right? yeah? come undone for us, baby.”

you arch your back, gasping, “ahh, s-shit, so good to me—right there… mmhgh fuck me harder right there”, the water shook with the force, your juices mixing as katsuki drives you to another peak, his grunts growing louder, “take it all, you dirty fucking girl—ahh, fuck!”

eijiro shifted his angle, hitting a spot that made you whine and throw your head back in sheer pleasure. “right there! right there! m’gonna f-fucking cum—oh, baby… there… there.”

“do it, sweet girl,” eijiro urged, his voice strained. “let go. we’ve got you.”

the pressure broke. your orgasm ripped through you like a lightning strike, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your body convulsed around them both. “ah, hah! nghh, fuck.”

your climax triggered theirs. eijiro came first with a guttural roar, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside you. “gods fucking damn, baby—oh, s-shit.”

“take it. fucking take my cum. yeah, fuck just like that.” the feel of him pulsing pushed katsuki over the edge mere seconds later; he slammed into you one final time with a choked shout, his release joining eijiro’s as he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

for a long time, the only sounds were the lapping of the water and your ragged breathing mixed with theirs. they held you between them, keeping you afloat in the wrecked tub, until the last tremors subsided.

for a region known for being rough and barbaric, they seemed surprisingly tolerant of your closeness with eijiro despite the fact that you were a married woman and the queen of the scarlet region.

at first, that had confused you.

then again, the scarlet region confused you in many ways.

the people here could spend an afternoon watching two men beat each other bloody for entertainment and then spend the evening discussing over drinks as if nothing happened. they could solve disagreements with their fists one moment and speak openly about personal freedoms the next. every time you thought you understood the culture, it found a new way to surprise you.

you had expected far more resistance regarding eijiro.

instead, most people barely seemed to care.

during your months living here, you had learned that polygamy and polyamory were not uncommon throughout the scarlet region.

they were not necessarily practiced by everyone, but neither were they considered scandalous. nobles took multiple spouses. warriors maintained lifelong bonds with more than one partner. even some former rulers had openly shared their lives with multiple companions.

it was somewhat shocking.

for a kingdom constantly described by outsiders as savage and uncivilized, they were surprisingly progressive in certain matters.

yet somehow they still could not stand an emerald kingdom princess being their queen.

figures.

a king having multiple wives was seen as a display of strength.

a nobleman keeping several lovers was considered proof of wealth and status.

yet a foreign queen speaking during political discussions was apparently enough to send half the council into cardiac arrest.

the hypocrisy frustrated you beyond belief.

you felt free and caged at the same time.

the scarlet region allowed you liberties that would have made some emerald nobles faint. you rode through cities. you visited villages. you spoke with commoners. you made suggestions regarding infrastructure and education.

yet the moment you stepped into certain political spaces, some men suddenly remembered that you were a woman.

a foreign woman at that.

which somehow made everything worse in their eyes.

technically, you were not even allowed inside council meetings. officially.

unofficially, katsuki had made his position abundantly clear.

if you wished to sit in council chambers, you sat in council chambers. if you wished to listen, you listened. if you wished to speak, then you spoke. and if anyone had a problem with it, they could take it up with their king.

few were foolish enough to do so directly while many were foolish enough to do so indirectly.

one afternoon, you found yourself seated beside katsuki's throne while a council session dragged on for what felt like hours. maps were spread across a long table. military reports covered nearly every surface. several elderly councilmen argued about trade routes while you quietly read through a stack of regional reports.

the discussion had nothing to do with you.

until one of the older councilmen, the master of coin, suddenly glanced your way. his expression remained polite, but his tone did not.

“with all due respect,” he began, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “perhaps matters of state would proceed more efficiently without unnecessary distractions.”

the room immediately became quieter.

you already knew who he meant.

you calmly set down the parchment in your hands. “if you are referring to me, lord councilman, you may simply use my name.”

the man offered a thin smile. “of course, your majesty. i merely meant that military discussions can become difficult for those… unfamiliar with warfare.”

you smiled politely. “then it is fortunate i am here to learn.”

a few men coughed into their hands while others looked away.

the master of coin continued. “some lessons are perhaps better left to those suited for them. it’s not suited for a queen.”

the implication was obvious. you were a woman, unqualified to weigh in the problem of men. you were a foreigner who is unqualified to discuss matters of lands that weren’t your own. you were a queen unqualified to speak about matters for a king.

you had heard it all before.

before you could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the chamber making everyone present jump.

katsuki had slammed his fist against the armrest of his throne hard enough to splinter wood.

silence immediately followed.

pure silence.

the dragon king slowly leaned forward, his sharp vermillion eyes locked onto the councilman. “say what you mean, old man.”

the older man's face paled. “my king, i only meant–”

“no. say it.” katsuki’s voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “say exactly what you mean.”

the master of coin swallowed, beads of sweat trickling from his forehead as he tried to find the words.

meanwhile, nobody else moved, nobody breathed. you were quietly eyeing your husband, already used to his protective nature towards you. and you didn’t do anything but keep composure and watch. you had told katsuki a number of times that you were capable of defending yourself, but he loved the thrill of screaming and threatening people, especially his council. you can’t deprive him of that, so you let him.

katsuki stood up from his seat as he eyed every single one of them, the entire room seemed to shrink around him. “if you've got enough courage to insult my wife in front of me, then finish the damn sentence.”

“my king, i-i was only voicing m-my concern o-on…”

“fucking spit it out!” kastuki yelled as he threw the goblet of ale that was on the table against the wall. the councilman visibly trembled and flinch as the glass chatters from the impact.

katsuki scoffed. “tch. that's what i thought.” he descended the few steps leading from his throne. he moved slowly. so slow and deliberate like a predator hunting his prey.

everyone watched him approach, trying to predict his next move and praying at the same time he doesn’t kill them right now.

“you old bastards spend more time complaining about my queen than doing your actual jobs.” katsuki began.

the silence in the room was deafening.

“you wanna know what's funny?” his grin was vicious. “she's smarter than half the people sitting in this room.”

still silence.

katsuki turned his head to look at you, smirking as you watched him. you were always so prim and proper. “hell, she's kinder than all of you combined.” then his gaze swept across the table. “if she wanted a position in my council, i'd give yours to her in a heartbeat.”

several men nearly choked at the threat of their jobs while your eyes widened at that declaration.

my husband is so hot.

katsuki pointed directly at the councilman. “you should be grateful she's nice. if i had her patience, you'd all still annoy the fuck outta me.”

a nervous laugh escaped someone before immediately dying.

katsuki continued, his eyes hardening. “you old fuckers don't get to decide when my wife talks. you don't get to decide where she sits.” he took another step forward. “and you sure as hell don't get to decide what she's capable of.”

the councilman lowered his head, so low you were sure that he is bleeding from hitting the floor. “m-my apologies, your majesty. i understand. i spoke out of turn. i-i will never make that mistake again.”

“tch.” katsuki rolled his eyes before turning away, making his way back to you where he placed a kiss on your forehead. “next time, keep your opinions where they belong.” he glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “buried… like you would be if you didn’t.”

the meeting moved on shortly afterward and nobody mentioned the subject again.

at least not that day.

unfortunately, the tension surrounding your position extended beyond the council itself. because there was a far larger problem looming over the scarlet region.

“the unseen.”

their name alone had become enough to make entire villages uneasy. they were extremists. revolutionaries. terrorists, anti-royals, depending on who was speaking.

they rejected every monarchy across every kingdom. they claimed rulers oppressed ordinary people while they preached equality, freedom, and revolution.

yet wherever they appeared, violence followed.

they recruited only through fear. through blood and through murder.

and recently, their attention had become focused on you and katsuki.

the threats started shortly after your wedding. at first they were letters, anonymous warnings, or messages left outside military posts. the threats were always directed toward the crown.

then shortly after, people started dying.

innocent people. farmers, merchants, travelers, and most especially supporters of the monarchy.

bodies began appearing across the region. some were stabbed to death, some beaten until they were unrecognizable, some throats were slit, there was even an instance where a whole family was poisoned. and found beside them, messages written in blood.

“death to the king and queen. death to the royals.”

the words spread fear through every province. families became terrified. some supporters of the crown publicly denounced the monarchy simply because they feared becoming the next victims.

the unseen wanted fear. they wanted people to join their cause and revolt against the royals. and they were getting it.

because the truth was simple.

you and katsuki together represented everything they hated.

separately, the emerald kingdom and scarlet region were already the most powerful nations in existence. while the emerald kingdom possessed enormous wealth, resourcesi, and influence, the scarlet region possessed unmatched military strength.

for thousands of years, both powers had existed independently. and for the first time they were united.

your marriage changed everything.

the treaty strengthened both kingdoms. more wealth flowed into the scarlet region. more military support strengthened the emerald kingdom.

together, you and katsuki represented an alliance powerful enough to reshape the balance of the entire continent.

that made you dangerous and it also made you targets.

which was why katsuki had been trapped in endless war meetings for weeks. and unfortunately, some members of the council still found ways to blame you.

one evening, during another council session, a particularly vocal general spoke. “if the marriage had never occurred, perhaps the unseen would not be so interested in us.”

another councilman, tge master of coin… again, nodded, more bold now that everyone was seeing the danger of your presence. “the emerald kingdom has been their preferred target for years. now they have turned to us as their prime target. we cannot afford to waste our resources on a group like the unseen.”

a third voice added quietly, “perhaps general utsushimi's daughter would have been the wiser choice as a wife for our king.”

the room was filled with agreements immediately.

“lady utsushimi is scarlet born.”

“she understands our customs.”

“a union within the region would have prevented—”

“prevented what?” katsuki’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

every man froze as if they have they have forgotten he was there because of how passionate they were being with their discussion. as if their king hasn’t spared them one too many times regarding this matter.

the king slowly rose from his throne. he has been quietly listening to their discussion, waiting, wanting to give him a reason. pure fury radiated from him. “who exactly do you idiots think the unseen were targeting next?”

not one answer came.

katsuki laughed and it was not a pleasant sound to hear at a situation like this. “the scarlet region!” he yelled as his fist slammed onto the table so hard that everyone swore they saw a dent. the maps jumped, bottles rattled, and people flinched. “those motherfucking assholes were coming after us regardless! you hear me?!”

there was only silence as the men in the council dropped their heads, their eyes focused on their hands or laps or the table, anything but make eye contact with the dragon king.

“you call yourselves strategists.” katsuki said as he took other step forward, his voice rising. “you call yourselves war advisors. but every damn meeting turns into a way to complain about my wife.”

no one dared interrupt him, not when he was so close to chopping someone’s head of right then and there. the councilmen visibly shrank beneath his glare.

“you never talk about battle plans,” katsuki’s eyes blazed as he took another step, stalking and eyeing the entire table. “you never talk about troop movements. you never talk about strategy. the only one discussing actual warfare in this room is me, eijiro, that damn idiot deku has been useful as well. oh, and you know how else? my wife!”

no one argued. no one could because despite everything they have against you, most of katsuki’s strategies were advised by you, eijiro, and izuku.

katsuki pointed toward the doors. “anyone who opens their mouth about my wife again can volunteer themselves as a gift to the unseen.”

the room collectively paled.

katsuki’s grin became terrifying as he chuckled, “or maybe i’ll have eijiro turn into a dragon and eat you fuckers alive.”

everyone looked genuinely horrified now because they knew that he meant everything.

beside the throne, eijiro stood perfectly still. there was none of his usual easy smile and none of his warmth. his expression remained calm and cold as he listened the entire time fighting the urge to incinerate the entire room.

his crimson eyes swept across the council then he inclined his head slightly toward his king. “i would do anything you desire, my king.”

katsuki's gaze swept slowly across the council chamber, unhurried, until it settled on one man in particular.

the silence hanging over the room did not feel peaceful. it felt tense, brittle, as though the entire chamber was waiting for something to break. every councilman seated around the long table could feel it. they could feel the pressure building with every passing second beneath the king's unwavering stare.

his vermillion eyes locked onto the master of coin.

the same man. the exact same man who had stood in this very chamber weeks ago and questioned whether the queen belonged anywhere near the king's council. the same man who had already received a warning. the same man who had apparently convinced himself that a warning from katsuki bakugo was something that could be ignored and forgotten.

for several long seconds, katsuki simply stared at him before he spoke. “you.”

several heads immediately lifted. confused glances spread across the table as a handful of councilmen looked around, uncertain who exactly the king was addressing.

the master of coin, however, had no such confusion. the little color remaining in his face drained away almost instantly. his fingers tightened around the edge of the table, and his shoulders went rigid beneath his robes. because katsuki's eyes never left him.

not once.

“y-your majesty?” the older man managed weakly.

a slow grin pulled at the corner of katsuki's mouth. it was not a pleasant expression. if anything, it made the master of coin look even more frightened.

without another word, katsuki began walking toward him. his boots echoed against the stone floor, each step seeming louder than the last inside the suffocating silence. nobody spoke or moved. every eye in the room followed him as he crossed the chamber.

when he reached the master of coin's chair, he stopped. then, with one sharp motion, he grabbed the back of it and spun it around. the wood groaned violently, the chair legs scraping across the stone floor.

the older man let out a startled whimper as he was suddenly forced to face the king directly.

katsuki looked like he was enjoying every second of it. he planted one hand against the side of the chair and leaned forward slightly. his shadow fell across the older man completely, swallowing him beneath it. with the hard set of his jaw and the fury burning behind his eyes, his glare could have rivaled a dragon's.

“do you remember what i told you the last time you insulted my wife?”

the master of coin swallowed hard, his eyes immediately darted away toward the table, toward the floor, toward literally anywhere that was not the king standing over him.

it was another mistake.

katsuki's hand shot out instantly. his fingers wrapped around the man's chin with bruising force. the older man hissed through his teeth as katsuki jerked his face upward, forcing him to meet his gaze. “look at your king when he's talking to you.” the command came out low and sharp.

the older man's eyes immediately watered, his face twisted with pain as katsuki squeezed harder, not letting go. “tell me what i told you, old man,” he growled.

the master of coin visibly trembled beneath his grip. “y-you said to keep my opinions where they belong, m-my king.”

“and where do they belong again? remind me.” katsuki tested him.

“b-buried, my king.”

around the table, several councilmen shifted uncomfortably in their seats. they remembered the previous meeting very clearly. unfortunately for them, so did katsuki.

“and did you?” katsuki asked quietly. “keep your worthless opinions buried, huh?” his eyes briefly flicked upward only for a second. only long enough to meet eijiro's gaze across the room. then they returned immediately to the terrified man before him.

“n-no, i didn't, my king.” the man whimpered.

“no, you didn't,” katsuki repeated. “funny thing about that.”

the master of coin's breathing grew increasingly uneven as katsuki continued staring at him. “what did i say would happen if you didn't listen to me?”

behind the chair, eijiro finally moved slowly and patiently like a predator circling prey.

several councilmen physically flinched at the sight.

farther down the table, izuku looked increasingly concerned. since he usually handled smaller meetings with katsuki, eijiro, and the queen, he had not actually witnessed the previous confrontation. judging by the panic spreading around the chamber, he was beginning to realize he had missed something important.

“m-my king... please...” the older man's voice cracked as tears had begun gathering in his eyes.

katsuki's expression did not change. “what happened?” he asked, his tone sarcastic. “you were so damn good at remembering everything else, but this tiny little thing slipped your mind?”

the older man opened his mouth, but before he could answer, katsuki's voice exploded through the chamber. “what did i tell you would happen if you didn't listen to me, old man?!”

the master of coin nearly jumped out of his skin. “i'd be buried!” he cried. “y-you said i'd be buried like how my opinions should be! p-please, m-my king! i won't do it again! i promise!” he slid from his chair onto his knees.

gone was the image of a respected council member. now he looked like a man desperately trying to outrun a fate that had already caught him.

katsuki stared down at him then he laughed. the sound was dark enough that several councilmen immediately looked away. “really?” he asked. “that's interesting.” he crouched slightly until they were nearly eye level. “do you remember something else?”

the man shook his frantically.

katsuki's grin widened. “you don’t remember saying the exact same thing the last time?”

the older man froze at the reminder of how he apologized the same way, just like how he promised he wouldn’t repeat his mistakes again.

“because i do,” katsuki said quietly, his eyes narrowing. “i remember every damn word. you promised me you wouldn't do it again. you swore you'd learned your lesson.”

“please...”

“and now look at you.” katsuki slowly shook his head. “i hate liars.”

the words landed heavily in the room.

“i hate pathetic cowards. and i really hate people who think i'm joking, people who don’t take me seriously.”

nobody at the table dared move.

katsuki slowly turned his gaze toward the rest of the chamber. “as king, i'm a man of my word. that's the problem with all of you old bastards. you hear a threat and decide it's my wife’s fault. you hear a warning and instead of planning, you gossip about how it's my wife fault.” his eyes hardened. “you think eventually i'll get tired. you think eventually i'll be lenient instead of addressing the actual problem.”

the tension in the room was so thick it was suffocating.

“you old farts keep testing me,” he continued. “and every damn time, you act surprised when i follow through.”

by now, the master of coin was openly crying. “my king, please. i have children. i have grandchildren. please.”

katsuki looked entirely unimpressed. “congratulations your dick worked.”

the older man sobbed harder as he kneeled in front of the dragon king. “mercy, your majesty! mercy!”

“wrong king for that.” katsuki reached forward, one hand settled against each side of the man's head.

the councilman immediately began struggling. “p-please!” he cried. “please, my king! i’m beg you!”

katsuki's cold and terrifying grin returned. “I know.” then he twisted, the crack echoed through the chamber. it was shark and sickening. and just like the body went limp..

a few councilmen gasped. one covered his mouth. another turned away completely.

the lifeless body toppled backward, but before it could hit the floor, eijiro caught it effortlessly. the dragon hybrid glanced down at the corpse in his arms.

“you can have him for dinner,” katsuki grumbled as he turned away.

eijiro looked mildly offended. “i don't eat wrinkly old men, katsuki.”

“tch.” katsuki waved a dismissive hand. “you're more picky than my wife. then throw him out for the wolves.”

“as you wish.” without another word, eijiro hoisted the body over one shoulder and headed toward the doors. nobody tried stopping him. nobody even looked at him for very long. the heavy doors shut behind him, and somehow the room became even quieter than before.

katsuki immediately rounded on another target. “deku!”

izuku nearly jumped out of his seat, looking up from the scroll he was busy reading. “yes, kaachan?”

the familiar childhood nickname made katsuki visibly roll his eyes. “do the Iidas still have that son?”

izuku blinked. “which son?”

“the one our age.”

understanding immediately crossed izuku's face. “ah. tenya iida of the iida clan. they’re one of the most respected noble houses in the eastern provinces. he studied finance, administration, military logistics and—”

“yeah, yeah. i didn’t ask for a damn history lesson.” katsuki cut him off with an impatient wave. “send a raven.”

izuku tilted his head. “a raven?”

“are you an echo?! yes a damn raven,” katsuki glared at his advisor. “tell him there's a seat open on my council.”

the room froze. several councilmen immediately understood exactly which seat he meant. one of the older councilmen, the master of ships this time, leaned forward hurriedly. “my king, if i may.”

katsuki already looked annoyed.

“the queen possesses remarkable intelligence,” the man began quickly. “she has displayed excellent judgment regarding regional investments and public works. frankly, she would make an outstanding mistress of coin.”

several councilmen nodded far too eagerly.

katsuki clicked his tongue, seeing right through them. “nice try.”

the master of ships visibly wilted. “your majesty?”

“you think kissing my ass is gonna get you back in my good graces?” katsuki scoffed.

“n-no, my king.”

“everything you said about my wife just now is true.” katsuki leaned back slightly. “she is smart. she'd definitely do the job better than half of you. but she's my queen. and she's a hell of a lot more than a mistress of coin.”

the room remained silent at the declaration whilst katsuki’s expression hardened. “she doesn't want the position, and i'm not giving her a job she never asked for.” then he looked back at izuku. “send the letter.”

“yes, i'll do that, kaachan,” izuku replied immediately.

katsuki's gaze slowly swept across the remaining councilmen. fear stared back at him from nearly every seat.

good. maybe now they were finally paying attention.

“If any of you decide to try me again,” he said casually, “then maybe it's time i start replacing the rest of you old geezers too.”

nobody reacted. they merely hoped that they didn’t lose their high-ranking job, better yet their lives.

katsuki watched the fear settle deeper into their faces. then he smirked. “i guess time will tell, right?” he pushed himself away from the throne since meeting was clearly over in his mind. “you're dismissed. i need to see my wife.”

the councilmen practically scrambled to their feet, bowing their heads down as katsuki sauntered out the room, he had already lost interest in them.

and unlike the council, you were someone he actually wanted to spend his time on.

after the death of the master of coin, your position within the scarlet region was no longer openly questioned, and no one dared to challenge your right to stand beside the king or question your place within the castle.

even the repeated doubts about whether katsuki bakugo's wife belonged at his side had faded into silence, because it turned out that watching the king personally make an example out of someone was remarkably effective, and the council had quickly learned where the line was drawn.

the whispers became quieter, the complaints became rarer, and even those who once spoke boldly now measured their words carefully.

unfortunately the unseen did not care about any of it, and if anything, the growing acceptance of your position only seemed to deepen their hostility toward you.

being the daughter of the king and queen of the emerald empire already made you important in a way few people could ever understand, but being the wife of the king of the scarlet region elevated that importance even further, and together those titles turned you into something rare in the world, a political bridge between two powerful kingdoms and a living symbol of alliance, a rare gem among the rest, quite literally, and you learned that truth in the hardest way possible.

it happened late one night when the castle had already fallen quiet under the weight of darkness, with most servants and nobles asleep and even the halls themselves softened by silence broken only by distant echoes and the flicker of torchlight along stone walls.

you had spent the entire day waiting for katsuki, which was becoming more common lately as the unseen grew bolder and the king's responsibilities increased with war meetings, security discussions, and reports from every province, along with letters from neighboring kingdoms and strategy sessions that stretched deep into the night.

sometimes he would leave before sunrise and return long after midnight, and sometimes he returned so exhausted that he barely made it into bed before falling asleep beside you.

but tonight he had not returned at all.

you had waited for him, one of your attendants even offered to call for him on you behalf before sleep eventually claimed you. you woke hours later to find his side of the bed still empty, and the sight immediately pulled the last remnants of sleep from your mind as you sat up slowly and stared at the untouched sheets beside you.

there was nothing there, only cold emptiness, and a small frown tugged at your lips as you thought quietly to yourself that he was still working.

the thought made you sigh as you pushed the blankets aside and slipped from the bed, deciding perhaps he needed a reminder that kings also needed rest, or perhaps you simply missed him more than you wanted to admit.

you wrapped a robe around your shoulders before stepping into the hallway. the corridors outside your chambers were unusually quiet, with no servants moving through them and no knights stationed outside your door despite the fact that katsuki always insisted on it, especially after the unseen began targeting them.

the absence of the guard made you pause for a moment as you frowned slightly, finding it strange. though you told yourself it might be a shift change or a temporary reassignment, and so you continued walking through the castle halls alone.

the stone floors felt cool beneath your slippers as you moved through familiar corridors. the war room was not far from your chambers, a route you had taken often enough that you knew every turn by memory. torchlight stretched along the walls as you passed corner after corner.

everything remained quiet, almost too quiet, until a strange feeling settled into your stomach that you could not explain or fully understand, though you tried to dismiss it as imagination as you quickened your pace.

just one more corner remained before you reached the hall leading to the war room, but then you heard it, a scuff of leather on stone, a heavy breath that didn't belong to you, and faint footsteps from behind that made you stop instantly as your heart skipped.

you turned quickly to look over your shoulder, but there was nothing there, only an empty hallway stretching back into darkness, with flickering torches and shifting shadows but no visible presence.

you stood still for several seconds listening carefully, but there was nothing except silence, and after a moment you exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to calm down as you turned forward again and whispered under your breath, “it’s just the wind.”

you began walking once more, faster now, because the entrance to the hall leading toward the war room was only one turn away, but before you could reach it, a sudden force grabbed you from behind. an arm locked around your waist and another hand clamped over your mouth, cutting off your breath and voice as panic exploded through your chest and your entire body froze in shock.

the person slammed your back against the wall, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. before you could do anything, a cold, jagged blade pressed firmly against the sensitive skin of your throat. the man holding you was a shadow, dressed in the muted grays, his eyes burning with a fanatical light. he pressed his body flush against yours, pinning your arms to your sides, and you could smell the scent of old smoke and bitterness clinging to his clothes.

“so this is the precious gem of the emerald empire and the scarlet region,” the man hissed, his voice a grating rasp in your ear. “the little doll who thinks she can bridge the gap between tyrants with a smile. ha! you are nothing but a trophy for a barbarian king who thinks he can own the earth.”

you thrashed in his grip, your muffled whines vibrating against his palm, but he only tightened his hold. his free hand wandered downward, sliding with a sudden, violent possessiveness over your curves. he groped your breast with a bruising grip, squeezing the soft flesh through the thin silk of your nightgown.

you let out a strangled cry, your body shaking with terror and disgust as he kneaded your chest, his fingers digging into you with a cruelty that aimed to degrade as much as to hurt.

“do you feel it, your highness?” he whispered, his breath hot and foul. “the touch of the people you ignore? the hands of the wretched who will tear your empire down stone by stone? you are so soft, so untouched by the filth of the world, but that ends tonight. we will show the king that his treasure can be soiled. we will show the world that the blood of the emerald empire bleeds just as red as a peasant's." he shifted his grip, the knife on your neck slicing a thin, shallow line that sent a trickle of warm blood down your collarbone.

you felt the sting, a sharp contrast to the suffocating pressure of his body. you began to plead, your voice trembling and broken as he momentarily loosened his grip on your mouth to let you speak, only to replace it with the cold edge of another blade. “p-please, i beg you, let me go," you sobbed, the tears streaming down your cheeks and wetting his hand. “i have done nothing to you. please, just take what you want and leave me be. i don't want to die. please, have mercy on me.”

the man laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “mercy is a luxury for those who do not wear crowns. your existence is an insult to every starving child in the world. you are the symbol of a union built on the corpses of the poor, a union that only serves to make that wretched dragon king more powerful and your parents more wealthy. you are not a person, you are a political tool, and it is time that tool was erased from history." he began to touched you more aggressively, his hand sliding down to the hem of your robe, bunching the fabric up to expose your thighs.

“death to the king and queen. death to the royals.” he snickered, the knife digging deeper into your neck.

you whined, a high, desperate sound, your body arching away from him in a futile attempt to escape. the terror was an all consuming wave, drowning your senses until the world narrowed down to the smell of the man and the coldness of the steel.

will i die before i could tell both katsuki and eijiro i loved them?

suddenly, a flash of silver cut through the dim torchlight.

a blur of motion descended from the shadows above, and a heavy blade swung with precision. there was a sickening, wet sound as the sword sliced through the man's calf, the steel biting deep into the muscle and bone.

the intruder screamed, a guttural howl of agony, as the force of the blow pushed him violently off you. he crashed to the stone floor, his leg buckling beneath him, and a spray of crimson blood splattered across the gray tiles.

you collapsed, sliding down the wall until you were crouched in a ball on the floor. your breath came in jagged gasps, and your hands flew to your chest, clutching your torn robes to your body to cover yourself.

you stared in shock as sero, one of katsuki's most trusted knights, stood over the fallen man.

sero's expression was a mask of cold fury, his sword held low and steady. “you chose the wrong hallway, and you certainly chose the wrong person,” sero said, his voice deep.

the intruder tried to scramble away, his face contorted in pain, but he didn't get far.

sero stepped forward with a fluid motion, his blade flashing again. this time, the sword struck the man's achilles heel, slicing through the tendon with a precise, brutal rip.

the man let out a strangled shriek, his leg snapping back as he lost all ability to stand or move. he collapsed onto his side, groaning and sobbing, his blood pooling around him in a dark, viscous circle. “fuck... fuck...!” the man gasped, his voice breaking. “the empire... it must fall... you are all monsters... the blood of the innocent cries out...”

am i really the monster in this situation? you thought.

meanwhile, sero didn't flinch, the tip of his sword resting lightly against the man's throat, mimicking the very threat the attacker had used on you. “you can save your philosophy for the dungeons. my king does not care for the grievances of rats. he only cares that you touched what belongs to him. do you have any idea what he does to people who lay a hand on his queen?”

the man's defiance began to crumble, replaced by a fear. he continued to moan, his voice a mixture of agony and delusional fervor. “it doesn't matter... we are many... the unseen... we are the wind... you cannot kill the wind...”

“maybe not," sero replied, his eyes narrowing as he applied a fraction more pressure to the man's neck, drawing a bead of blood. “but the king can certainly kill the man who thinks he is the wind. now, be silent. every word you speak only makes me want to see how many of your fingers i can remove before the guards arrive.”

you remained huddled against the wall, your body shaking uncontrollably. the sight of the blood, the sound of the man's screams, and the lingering sensation of those hands on your skin left you feeling raw and exposed.

you felt small and weak, the shimmer of your eyes dimmed by the shadow of the trauma.

i’m strong. i am strong. katsuki said i was strong. you thought as you clutched the silk of your gown, your knuckles white, as tears continued to stream down your face in silent, rhythmic pulses.

sero noticed your state, his gaze softening as he looked away from the man on the floor. he stepped toward you, his armor clinking softly. he didn't crowd you, instead maintaining a respectful distance as he reached up and unfastened the heavy, dark cloak from his shoulders. with a slow, gentle movement, he crouched down beside you and draped the fabric around your shivering frame.

the cloak was warm, smelling of leather, steel, and a hint of cedar, and it completely enveloped you, hiding the tears and the torn silk.

“you're safe now, my queen,” sero whispered, his voice now warm and comforting, a complete departure from the coldness he had shown the attacker. “i am so sorry i wasn't here on time. i should have been here faster.”

"he... he touched me," you whimpered, your voice barely audible beneath the heavy fabric of the cloak. "he said such horrible things... he wanted to break me."

sero's jaw tightened, a flicker of rage crossing his features. “he will never touch anything ever again. i promise you that. just breathe, slowly now. the guards are already on their way, and i will not leave your side until you are back in your chambers or with the king.”

you looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen, feeling the security of the cloak around you like a shield. you leaned into the warmth of the cloak, the weight of it grounding you.

then the door at the far end of the hallway suddenly burst open with such force that the sound echoed violently through the stone corridors, cutting through the chaos like a thunderclap.

heavy footsteps followed immediately after, filling the passage with the unmistakable presence of armed men rushing in response to the commotion. more figures poured into the hallway, weapons drawn and torches casting harsh light across the place.

at the very front of them stood katsuki and eijiro.

you looked up instantly, your vision blurred with tears and shock, and in that overwhelming moment your eyes found katsuki’s across the distance. everything else faded for a second, the panic still clinging to your body, all of it collapsing into the single fact that he was here.

katsuki saw you too.

he took one look at your face, at the tears streaking down your cheeks, at the blood at your neck, at your torn robes, at the man being pinned down near you, and something in his expression snapped into something far darker than rage.

his hand moved instantly to the sword at his side. the blade came out in a single smooth motion, large and heavy, far bigger than your arm, and he raised it without hesitation, pointing it directly at the intruder who had dared lay hands on you.

“you motherfucker. you touched my wife,” katsuki said, his voice low and sharp, each word cutting through the hallway like steel.

the man on the ground tried to move, but sero kept him pinned, his grip unyielding as he shouted for backup while maintaining control of the situation.

meanwhile, eijiro had already reached you.

he dropped to his knees beside you instantly, his usual warmth gone, replaced by something tense and shaken beneath the surface as he gently cupped your face in both hands. his thumbs brushed carefully near your cheek as he looked you over, his eyes scanning every detail with growing alarm.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” eijiro said quickly, though his voice was tight. “what happened? are you hurt anywhere else? did he—”

you swallowed hard, your breath still uneven as you tried to steady yourself, and when you finally spoke, your voice came out fragile but clear.

“he touched me, eiji. he wanted me dead.”

the moment those words left your lips, something in eijiro’s expression changed completely. his warm gaze hardened and his jaw tightened as his grip on your face shifted protectively.

“he what?” eijiro asked quietly, his voice low now, dangerous in a way that did not match his usual tone.

katsuki heard it too.

every single word.

loud and clear.

so did everyone else in the hallway.

sero, still holding the man down, immediately began speaking while keeping pressure on him.

“my king,” sero said urgently, glancing toward katsuki without letting go of the attacker, “i caught him at the end of the corridor. he was… touching her… inappropriately. he had her pinned and was making threats. he’s one of them. the unseen. he knew what he was doing.”

in a single blur of motion, katsuki was across the hallway, his sword disappearing from view as he dropped it just long enough to grab the man by the throat with one hand and haul him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

the intruder choked instantly, feet kicking wildly as katsuki lifted him higher, the pressure of his grip crushing with terrifying strength.

“you think you get to touch her,” katsuki said, voice shaking now with controlled fury, “and walk away breathing? i’m gonna fucking kill you. but i won't kill you quickly. i will peel the skin from your bones while you are still conscious, and i will make sure you stay alive for every single second of it. i’ll carve you apart slow enough that you’ll beg me to stop before i let you die.”

the man clawed at his arm, trying to speak, but only broken sounds escaped as katsuki tightened his grip further.

“say it,” katsuki growled. “say what you were sent here for.”

the man struggled, gasping, eyes wide with panic, but katsuki only leaned closer, his voice dropping lower.

“i said fucking talk!” katsuki yelled as he squeezed harder.

the man choked out fragments, something about orders, about the unseen, his voice breaking into incoherent pleading as katsuki listened with growing silence.

around them, izuku stood frozen near the doorway, his face pale with shock and horror, while tenya iida, the newly appointed master of coin, watched with rigid stillness, clearly trying to process everything unfolding in front of him but unable to look away.

you, however, could not keep watching.

you buried your face into eijiro’s neck, shaking slightly as he wrapped one arm tightly around you while still keeping his attention locked on katsuki and the intruder. even through his anger, eijiro held you carefully, grounding you as much as he could while his entire body trembled with restrained rage.

“kats…” you called softly, voice breaking.

that was enough for katsuki.

he turned immediately, his eyes softened just slightly when they landed on you, the fury still there but controlled again just enough to function. he let the man drop back on the ground with a loud thud. “take him to the dungeons,” katsuki ordered sharply, not looking away from you. “don’t touch him. he’s mine.”

sero nodded quickly, his expression grim. “yes, my king.”

katsuki took a step forward, his boots heavy against stone as he crossed the distance between you. eijiro gently guided you forward into the king’s arms as if instinctively understanding what you needed more in that moment.

katsuki didn’t hesitate to wrap one arm around you firmly, pulling you against his chest while grabbing his sword in the other hand, his grip on both you and the weapon equally protective as if he was preparing himself to stab anyone who gets near you.

eijiro stood beside him for a moment longer before glaring toward the man being dragged away, then finally falling into step behind katsuki as the group began moving.

you circled your arms tightly around katsuki’s neck, trembling as you pressed your face into him, finally letting the tear spill out now that you were safe enough to do so.

katsuki’s hand moved slowly over your back, steady and grounding. “you’re alright,” he muttered lowly, voice rough but softer than before. “you’re here. you’re with me. no one’s touching you ever again.” his jaw tightened as he glanced down the hallway once, already calculating, already burning.

“i’ve got you,” he added more quietly, almost to himself. “i’ve got you, my love.”

the rest of the night passed in fragments.

the healers were called immediately, and the cut on your neck was treated. katsuki refused to leave your side for even a moment, standing close enough that his presence alone felt like a barrier between you and the entire world. eijiro stayed as well, seated nearby, still visibly tense but trying to keep his focus on you rather than the rage still simmering beneath his skin.

they did not press you for details beyond what was necessary. no one forced you to relive it. not yet.

when you finally drifted toward exhaustion, both katsuki and eijiro remained with you, watching over you until your breathing evened out and sleep finally took hold.

eijiro stayed curled beside you, one arm loosely around your waist, his wings wrapping around you like a blanket, refusing to let distance form between you even as his eyes remained open and alert.

katsuki, however, left sometime after midnight, focused entirely on what came next.

he assigned sero and kaminari to guard the royal chambers permanently from that moment forward, their orders absolute, before disappearing down toward the dungeons where the intruder had been taken.

what followed in the dungeon was not questioned by anyone who understood katsuki bakugo’s temper.

he did not sleep nor did not stop.

by the time dawn began to creep through the sky, the man who had snuck into the castle whole was no longer recognizable as anything more than what remained of a mistake made against the king’s wife.

when it was finally over, the dragon king stood over what was left in silence, blood on his hands, arms, and face, sword resting at his side, his breathing steady despite everything.

katsuki turned slightly toward one of the knights. “send his head back to those fucking bastards,” he said harshly.

then he left the dungeon without another word.

two weeks after the attack in the corridor, the castle had settled into a tense sort of routine. the fear had not vanished, but life within the scarlet region could not stop simply because danger lingered in the shadows.

threats from the unseen still arrived. whispers still circulated through corridors and marketplaces alike. extra guards stood at every entrance, every staircase, and every hallway. yet despite everything, the kingdom continued moving forward because it had no other choice.

after nearly two weeks of relentless hovering from katsuki and eijiro, you were finally considered well enough to attend a formal banquet.

if anyone asked either man, however, they would have claimed the exact opposite.

you had spent the better part of those two weeks being watched like a priceless artifact. katsuki rarely allowed you out of his sight for long, and eijiro somehow managed to be even worse. every servant who entered your chambers was questioned. every hallway was checked twice before you walked through it. their protectiveness would have been amusing under different circumstances, but after what had happened in the corridor, neither of them found anything remotely funny about your safety.

eventually, though, even they could not justify keeping the queen hidden away forever.

the banquet hall glittered beneath hundreds of lanterns, bathing the vast chamber in warm golden light. nobles and royals from every corner of the continent filled the room. music drifted through the air while servants moved gracefully between guests carrying silver trays overflowing with food and drink.

you walked beside katsuki with your arm linked through his.

your gown was one of the finest pieces in your wardrobe, embroidered with scarlet thread that caught the light whenever you moved. jewels from your homeland rested against your throat and wrists.

beside you, katsuki looked every bit the king. his broad shoulders were wrapped in dark leather attire, and his expression already carried the familiar irritation that appeared whenever he was forced into social situations.

he hated gatherings like this, he tolerated them because he had to while you endured them because you were considerably better at smiling than he was.

across the room, a familiar voice called your name.

your brother.

he had traveled across the ocean on behalf of your parents, who were unable to attend due to obligations within the emerald empire. the moment he arrived, he immediately began fussing over you.

it started with questions, then concerns, then complaints. eventually it became a lecture.

“you should come home.”

you sighed and shook your head. “hello to you too.”

“i'm serious.” his eyes swept over you carefully, searching for injuries despite the healer having removed nearly every visible trace of the attack. “you were attacked inside the castle.”

"katsuki already increased security and i’m pretty sure he butchered the man who attacked me.” you sighed, the memory making you shiver.

“that isn't the point.” lowering his voice, he stepped closer. “you almost died.”

your gaze drifted toward your husband. at that exact moment, katsuki was glaring at a duke who had approached to introduce himself. the poor noble looked increasingly unsure whether continuing the conversation was worth the risk.

“none of it was was my husband’s fault if that is what you’re implying.”

your brother frowned. “that doesn't change what happened.”

“no,” you admitted quietly. “it doesn't. but do you really think going home will change anything? they’ll just find me there if they wanted to”

his expression softened slightly. “you’ll be safer. come home for a while.”

you shook your head again. “this is my home.”

for a moment, he looked like he wanted to continue arguing. instead, he released a long sigh and muttered something under his breath about stubborn sisters before reluctantly letting the matter drop.

the rest of the evening continued much the same.

katsuki remained beside you nearly the entire night. whenever he was forced into conversation, one hand always seemed to find your back or your arm as though reassuring himself that you were still there.

eijiro never strayed far either. for a man his size, he blended into the crowd surprisingly well, yet you could always feel his presence nearby.

neither of them realized danger was already inside the room.

the rats were not outside the walls, they were hiding within them.

the realization came with something as simple as a sip of wine.

you lifted the crystal glass to your lips during a conversation with several visiting nobles. the wine tasted normal. for several seconds, nothing happened.

then your stomach twisted, a sharp heat spread through your body. at first, you thought it was merely stronger alcohol than expected, but the burning worsened.

your chest tightened, air caught in your throat, and your fingers suddenly lost their strength.

fear flooded through you.

katsuki.

you turned toward him, your vision had already begun blurring around the edges as your hand gripped his arm tightly.

“k-katsuki…” you wheezed. “something's wro—”

the words never finished, but you saw the exact moment panic entered his eyes.

blood spilled from your mouth and you went limp, katsuki caught you before your head struck the ground as the glass you were holding shattered.

the room erupted into screams then everything went dark.

for one horrible second, katsuki felt the entire world stop. he saw the blood, he saw your body collapse, he saw your eyes close. suddenly nothing else mattered.

“your majesty!” someone shouted.

another noble screamed and cried. chairs crashed against the floor as guests stumbled backwardt in fear.

“no.” the word came out dangerously quiet. then his voice exploded through the banquet hall. “get me the healers. now!”

every conversation died instantly, the music stopped, and every servant froze.

“i said now!” the roar shook the room.

eijiro was already moving. he practically tore through the crowd before dropping to one knee beside you. his face had gone pale as he carefully gathered you into his arms.

“move aside!” nobody needed to be told twice. people scattered from his path immediately.

katsuki rounded on the room, fury rolling off him in suffocating waves. “close everything down.” his voice echoed through the hall. “lock every gate! nobody enters and nobody leaves!”

terror spread through the gathered guests as he took another step forward, his eyes sweeping across the room, his hand closed around the hilt of his sword. “if anyone tries to leave, arrest them. search every servant and every noble. search every damn person inside this castle until i say otherwise!”

then katsuki turned and followed eijiro without another word, your brother was already running after them.

the hours that followed blurred together. the healer worked without rest, magic illuminated the infirmary for nearly an entire day. eijiro refused to leave your side while katsuki remained close enough to hear every word.

finally, after what felt like forever, the healer lowered her hands. exhaustion lined her face as she looked toward the king. “she's stable, my king.”

relief swept through the room immediately, your brother nearly collapsed into a chair.

katsuki stared at the healer. “tell me everything.”

the woman swallowed. “the wine was poisoned, your grace.”

everyone already knew that.

still, she continued carefully. “fortunately, her majesty consumed very little.”

katsuki's jaw tightened. “how little?”

“another sip…” she hesitated. “perhaps two and she…”

silence.

“and she what, woman!” katsuki yellled.

the healer met his gaze. “she would have died almost instantly, my king.”

the room fell deathly quiet. eijiro's hands were clenched at the implications while your brother looked physically ill.

the healer quickly continued. “she will recover. i am certain of it.”

that should have comforted them, but it didn't. because someone had still tried to kill you… again.

days passed and you remained unconscious.

that frightened them more than either man wanted to admit.

eijiro rarely slept. he sat beside your bed holding your hand and waiting. sometimes he spoke softly, telling stories he knew you enjoyed. sometimes he simply sat in silence.

katsuki visited constantly, despite his painfully busy schedule.

whenever he thought nobody was watching, he would brush your hair away from your face and stare at you for long stretches of time.

then, finally, you woke. the relief nearly brought the entire room to tears, but something had changed.

you still smiled at them, you still leaned into their touch, you still spoke with warmth whenever they were near. yet the people around you quickly noticed the difference.

you carried yourself differently now. while your chin remained high and your posture remained elegant, there was something sharper behind your eyes.

whenever people looked at you with pity, your gaze turned cold enough to make them look away. whenever someone spoke to you as though you were fragile, your expression became unreadable.

somewhere during those long days between life and death, something inside you had hardened into steel.

you reassured your lovers with soft words in the dark, telling them you were healing, you were strong, you were theirs. they never questioned you. they accepted your kisses, your embraces, your whispered promises, with a solemn gratitude that felt heavier than any interrogation.

they saw the shadows under your eyes, the way your hands would sometimes tremble before you stilled them, the haunted look that would flicker across your face when you thought no one was looking.

yet they did not press. they understood trauma not as a thing to be dissected with words, but as a wound to be sheltered.

your safety became the absolute, unspoken priority of the kingdom. you were guarded not just by katsuki’s own relentless nature and eijiro’s constant hovering, but by sero and kaminari, who had been personally chosen as your sworn swords.

they shadowed your steps, two silent, lethal sentinels whose loyalty to their king was matched only by their protective ferocity towards their queen. they stood outside your chambers, followed at a discreet distance in the gardens, their eyes missing nothing. you were a cherished bird in a gilded, heavily fortified cage.

in the quiet hours, you took to writing. parchment piled on your desk, filled with your looping script.

it was to katsuki you explained the contents of one particular bundle of letters. seated in his study, you laid them out before him, your voice carefully neutral. “my brother will not cease,” you said, tracing the wax seal bearing her family’s crest. “his letters are a starting to irritate me. he believes i should return home, that this court is too dangerous. my mother writes separately. her words are full of a worry that… that eats at her. she fears for me.”

katsuki listened, his red eyes fixed on your face, not the letters. he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “let them write, my love,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “it changes nothing. you are home.”

he indulged you in this, as he did in all things now.

every piece of correspondence that arrived for you passed through his hands first. he did not read your private words from your mother; that was a boundary he would not cross. instead, his large, scarred hands would inspect each envelope, each folded parchment, holding it up to the light, testing its weight, checking for hidden compartments or the tell-tale scent of toxins.

packages from your family containing gowns of the latest fashion, delicate shoes, glittering jewelry, bottles of perfume were subjected to even greater scrutiny. guards would open them, and katsuki himself would examine the contents, his expression grim and focused, running his fingers along seams, uncorking perfumes to let eijiro, with his keen senses, test the air. he was leaving nothing to chance.

he was doing everything, building an wall between you and the world that had tried to take you twice.

the morning you disappeared dawned like any other.

katsuki had risen early for a war council. you had stirred as he dressed, and unlike your usual quiet wakefulness, you had reached for him. your arms wound around his neck, pulling him back down to the warmth of their bed. you kissed him, not with your usual soft affection, but with a fervent, almost hungry intensity, your fingers tangling in hi spiky hair as if to memorize its texture.

he sank into the kiss, a low hum of pleasure in his throat, his hands settling on your waist. when you finally pulled back, your eyes were wide, shining with an emotion so deep it made his breath catch.

you looked at him as if you were memorizing him, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze as your fingers had traced his scalp. “my love,” you whispered, the words a tender caress.

i love you.

he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, his own expression softening in a way reserved only for you. “rest,” he murmured. “i will return by midday.”

you nodded, that starlit gaze following him until he closed the chamber door behind him.

eijiro visited you that afternoon, bringing news from the training yards. he found you in your solar, surrounded by your writings. you set her quill down and greeted him with a smile that seemed to light you from within. you rose and walked into his embrace, leaning into his solid, warm strength. you kissed him with the same profound, lingering sweetness you had given katsuki, your hands cradling his face, your body melting against his.

he held you tightly, savoring the feel of you, the scent of your hair. “you seem in good spirits today, sweetheart,” he rumbled, his dragon’s heart swelling with joy.

i love you.

you just hugged him tighter, your face buried in the crook of his neck. “i am always happy to see you,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin.

it felt like a perfect moment, saturated with love.

it was also the last time he saw you.

when you could not be found for dinner, a low hum of unease began. when you did not answer the gentle knocks on you chamber door, it spiked into alarm.

sero and kaminari, standing guard since katsuki’s departure, swore with pale, desperate faces that you had not left. not once. they had heard the faint scratch of your quill, the occasional rustle of parchment, the soft footsteps moving from desk to window, even your soft hums. you were in their entire time.

no one had entered. no one had left.

katsuki believed them; these men were his brothers (though he wouldn’t admit that to their faces), their loyalty unquestionable. but belief did nothing to quell the volcanic fear erupting in his chest.

the search of the castle was swift and thorough, turning into a frantic, sprawling hunt as night fell. guards scoured every hall, every room, every hidden passage and dusty alcove.

you was nowhere. the conclusion was a blade to the gut.

katsuki stood in the center of your empty solar, the silence screaming at him. “she was taken,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. then it broke. “my wife was taken from under our noses!” the roar shook the very stones of the chamber. a nearby table shattered under his fist. “how?!”

eijiro was at his side in an instant, his own fear a cold knot in his stomach, but his expression forced into a mask of rigid calm. “katsuki, listen to me. anger will not find her. we need to think.”

“think?” katsuki whirled on him, sparks popping in his palms. “i’ll burn this entire kingdom to ash until i find who has her! i’ll tear apart every stone, every house, every—”

“and if you burn the wrong village? if you waste time on vengeance and not on strategy?” eijiro’s voice was hard, cutting through the king’s fury. he grabbed katsuki’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. “they took her without a trace. that means they were planning. that means magic was involved, or hidden ways we don’t know. we act like bulls in a china shop now, and we might destroy the very clue that leads to her. we must be careful.”

“careful?” katsuki spat the word. “she is gone, eijiro! my fucking wife is gone! every second we are careful is a second they have her doing gods know what!” his breath came in ragged heaves, his body trembling with the effort to not explode, to not reduce the castle to rubble around them.

“we will find her,” eijiro vowed, his own dragon’s anger simmering beneath the calm. “but we find her by being smarter than them. we use every spy, every scout. we look for the unseen. we find the hole they crawled through. then, and only then, do we burn everything in our path to get her back.”

the next day, the message arrived. a simple, unmarked box delivered to the castle gates.

inside, nestled on black velvet, was the necklace. a stunning, intricate piece of diamonds and rubies, it was katsuki’s wedding gift to you, the one you never removed. beneath it lay a single sheet of parchment.

katsuki’s hand did not shake as he lifted it; it was as steady and cold as iron. the words were a jagged scrawl: “you're precious queen is a beauty. it would be a shame to lose such a gem. but before we do that, i want to see the hope leave your eyes, katsuki bakugo. come and find us so we can end it once and for all. death to the king and queen. death to royals.”

a sound escaped him, a low, visceral growl that promised extinction.

the messenger, a young man paid a few coins to deliver the box, was still standing there, confused and nervous.

he did not live to take another step.

one moment katsuki was reading the letter, the next he had crossed the courtyard in a blur of motion. a single slash with his sword was all it took. the act was done in broad daylight, a statement of raw, ungovernable power.

the careful strategy eijiro had pleaded for evaporated into thin air.

katsuki’s orders were swift and brutal. troops were dispatched not to investigate, but to purge.

sympathizers to any cause other than the crown, rumored dissidents, anyone in villages known for unrest—they were to be slain.

katsuki would carve a path to you through the blood of his own kingdom if he had to. and he would lead the charge.

from the highest tower, a roar that was not human split the sky. eijiro, his heart shattered and reforged into a vessel of pure, rampaging grief, surrendered to the dragon within.

scales of crimson erupted over his body, bones lengthened and reshaped, wings of leather burst from his back. he became a creature of legend, a dragon in full, terrifying transformation. while katsuki, clad in armor black as his intent, climbed onto the great beast’s back.

there were no words between them now. there was only the hunt.

the dragon king and his red dragon took to the skies, a vision of wrath.

they scoured the land from on high, their shadows falling over cities like a curse. when questions were met with silence or fear, when paths were blocked or pleas for mercy were made, they did not hesitate.

katsuki’s orders lit the horizon with fire, eijiro’s dragonfire melted stone and steel. they were a force of nature, scourging the land high and low, killing anyone who stood in their way, leaving only smoke and ash in their wake as they searched, day after desperate day.

the irony was not lost on you.

a queen, locked in a tower.

it was such a tired, pathetic cliché that you could have laughed if the stone around you wasn’t so cold and dirty. the unseen, for all their grand plans and hidden networks, were laughably unoriginal.

you sat on the rickety cot in the small, circular room, your back against the damp stone wall, and counted the days by the thin sliver of light that traveled across the floor.

a week.

it had been a week since you had arrived here, and the most amusing part, the secret you hugged to your chest like a weapon, was that you had come willingly.

people had always assumed you were stupid. a coddled princess, then a spoiled queen, surrounded by silks and guards and adoration. they saw the soft hands and the gentle smiles and mistook it for a soft mind.

the first attack, the one in the hallway, had been a shock, but its very success had been the first clue. someone had gotten that attacker inside the castle’s inner sanctum.

the poison that followed, slipped into your wine during a heavily guarded celebration, was merely a confirmation. when you woke up from that, throat raw and body trembling with the aftershock of death’s close brush, you stopped being the cherished icon and started being a silent observer.

you watched everything.

you remembered yuri.

among your hoard of chattering, giggling ladies-in-waiting, she was the silent one. while the others gossiped and shared stories, encouraged by your own assurances that they could speak freely around you, yuri would often just watch with quiet, dark eyes. you had assumed she was shy, perhaps anti-social, but you had granted her the same trust you gave all your people.

almost dying twice opens your eyes in the most brutal way.

the night you were cornered, yuri had been the one to offer to call for katsuki during his meeting so you wouldn’t have to disturb him and so that you can sleep. you had thanked her, grateful. yet, the king never came, and you had been forced to go yourself, wandering the halls alone where the attacker found you.

and the poison… yuri had been in charge of your personal service that day. she had handed you the very goblet, her face a mask of placid service, before melting into the background just as the first cramp seized your stomach.

the pieces, once you allowed yourself to see them, formed a damning picture. it was laughable, how naive you had been.

so you cornered her.

it was in your solar, two days after you began your silent watch. you dismissed everyone else, and when the door clicked shut, you turned to her. your voice was eerily calm, a flat pond without a ripple.

“you will take me to them,” you said.

her face, usually so blank, fractured into sheer panic. she stammered, acted confused, but the fear in her eyes was all the confession you needed.

“you have two choices, yuri,” you continued, picking up a letter opener from your desk and examining its dull edge. “you can take me to the unseen, and i will consider that your service to me is complete. or, i can call the king and his dragon in here, and you can explain to them why you tried to murder their queen. twice.”

yuri chose survival, as the cowardly always do.

that was how you found yourself in this hidden, abandoned tower deep in the woods, “captured” and locked away for a week.

the unseen were in disbelief when you turned yourself in.

their group, you learned, had nine core members and hundreds of recruits and sympathizers scattered across the kingdoms. of the members, only one spoke to you directly: their head, a man named tomura shigaraki. your first meeting with him was brief and chilling. he was a few years older than you, with pale hair and eyes that held a dry, cracking kind of malice, like old paint peeling from a wall.

tomura shigaraki looked you up and down as you stood calmly in the tower’s main hall, his hands scratching idly at his own neck. “well, well,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper. “the queen herself, delivered on a silver platter. i must admit, i didn’t expect you to have the spine. or the stupidity.”

he gave a slow, sarcastic clap, the sound hollow in the stone room. he stepped closer, and before you could react, his hand darted out and yanked the necklace from your throat, the chain snapping with a sharp ping.

you gasped, a genuine reaction of dismay. he held the diamonds and rubies up to the dim light, a cruel smirk on his face. “this is precious. literally. a gift from your murderous husband, i assume? a pretty collar for a pretty pet.”

you said nothing, just stared at the necklace in his grubby hand. that was mine. he gave that to me. you thought.

shigaraki pocketed it, his smirk widening. “you’ll be the perfect bait,” he said, pacing slowly around you. “your beloved king will tear the world apart looking for you. he’ll follow any trail, no matter how obvious the trap. he’ll come, maybe even drag your pathetic family into it, and when he does, we’ll be waiting. slowly but surely, we will rid this world of royal scum, starting with the symbol of victory and his cherished little wife. i want to see hope leave his eyes. i want to be the last thing he sees.”

you finally spoke then, your voice clear and steady. “and when you’ve killed us all? when you sit on the throne instead? what difference does it make? you’ll just be the new monsters in charge. it’s hypocritical.”

he stopped pacing and looked at you, genuinely surprised you had a voice. “hypocrisy is a luxury of the powerful,” he sneered. “we are justice.”

“justice?” you actually laughed, a short, bitter sound. “you had someone try to murder me in my own home. you had me poisoned at a celebration meant for peace. you kill supporters and innocents who have nothing to do with your fight. how many people have died for your ‘cause’? you’re not saving anyone. you’re just creating more graves. trying to justify your cause.”

shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. “you speak of innocence? do you know what your husband did when you were poisoned? a little birdie named yuri told me everything. he slaughtered the entire kitchen staff. every man, woman, and apprentice. he killed them all without trial, without evidence, just blind rage. your king has spilled as much blood as any tyrant. he is a killer with a crown.”

the news of the kitchen staff hit you like a physical blow, a cold knot forming in your stomach. you hadn’t known. katsuki had shielded you from that. you forced your expression to remain impassive.

“he was protecting what was his,” you said, the argument weak even to your own ears. “you attack what is his, and you expect mercy? you started this war of shadows. he is finishing it in the light. he wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t for you and your friends.”

shigaraki leaned in, his breath stale. “a pretty speech from a pretty prisoner. it doesn’t matter. he will come, he will see you in chains, and he will make a mistake. and we will end him.” he straightened up, waving a dismissive hand. “lock her in the tower. let her ponder her husband’s virtues. it’s only a matter of time now.”

and with that, you were dragged away, the image of his smug, hateful face burning into your memory.

now, presently, you sat on that same rickety bed. the time for pondering was over. you lifted the skirt of your dress and reached for the two glass bottles tied securely to your thigh. the larger one contained a bright, almost luminous green liquid. the smaller held a pink, glittering liquid.

even with the stoppers firmly in place, a faint, sweet aroma emanated from them, which was precisely why they had been so easy to disguise as perfumes.

the enchantment woven into the bottles were masking their magical potency. this had also helped them escape notice when katsuki and eijiro had inspected your belongings. they had been looking for poison, for weapons, not for the tools of a queen who had decided to fight her own battles.

for the last few weeks, since you woke from the poison, your correspondence had not been solely with your worried family. secret letters, written in a code you and your friends from the emerald empire had invented as girls, had flown back and forth.

toru hagakure and mina ashido were not just friends; they were powerful mages. when you finalized your plan, you had asked them for specific, potent potions. toru had sent the pink vial while mina had sent the green one.

you finished arranging the pillow under the thin blanket, shaping it to look like a sleeping form. then you waited, your heart a steady drum in your chest. the familiar clinking of keys outside the heavy wooden door signaled the arrival of your lunch.

as the lock turned, you popped the stopper on the small pink bottle and drank it in one swift motion. the effect was instantaneous and bizarre. you watched your own hands fade from sight, then your arms, your dress, everything even the vials you were holding. you were a ghost, a void in the air. an invisibility potion just as toru had promised.

the door swung open, and a guard slid a wooden tray of unappetizing slop onto the floor. he glanced at the bed, saw the lump under the covers, grunted, and turned to leave. as he pulled the door shut, you, invisible and silent, slipped through the gap behind him and then you bolted.

you had learned the routines during your week of captivity.

around this time, the entire group of the unseen, all hundred-something members from leaders to lowly guards, dined together in the main hall. it was a point of pride for shigaraki, a show of unity and equality.

you had noted it, filed it away.

now, invisible, you ran not for the exit, but deeper into the stronghold. you found the kitchens first, a large, smoky room where massive cauldrons of stew simmered and barrels of ale and wine were lined up ready for service. the cooks and servers were busy, shouting to one another.

you moved like a whisper, uncorking the large green bottle. you poured its contents into the nearest soup pot, watching as the bright green liquid swirled and then dissolved into nothing, leaving no trace. you moved to the barrels, tipping the potion into the ale, the wine, even the water pitchers. the sweet smell was lost in the kitchen’s aromas. your heart hammered, but your hands were steady.

for me. for every person they’ve hurt.

then you ran to the main dining hall, a vast cavernous space filled with long tables and raucous noise. you stood at the center of it all, unseen, a phantom amid your enemies.

shigaraki stood at the high table, raising a tankard. “a toast!” he cried, his raspy voice cutting through the din. “to the impending end of the false king and his whore of a queen! to the day we wash these lands clean of their royal filth!”

the hall erupted in cheers and jeers, cruel laughter and shouts of agreement echoing off the stone.

anger, cold and sharp, flowed through you, but you waited. you forced yourself to watch as they all, every single one of them, brought their drinks to their lips. as they drank deeply, celebrating the death they planned for you and everyone you loved.

the satisfaction that followed was dark and profound.

it began with a cough, then another, then a choked gasp. the festive noise died, replaced by confusion, then by strangled cries.

all around the hall, men and women clutched their throats, their faces contorting in sudden, searing agony. they grabbed their necks, their chests, their stomachs. coughs turned into wet, bloody gurgles.

then the screaming started. it was not just screams of pain, but of horror, as the skin on their cheeks, their faces, began to bubble and melt. it peeled away from the bone, dissolving from the inside out just like mina promised her acid potion would.

they clawed at their own faces, at their bellies, as if they could dig out the fire consuming them. tables overturned. tankards smashed. the hall became a writhing, shrieking tableau of dissolving flesh and bone.

you watched, your invisibility beginning to fade at the edges, your own form becoming a faint, shimmering outline.

you could have done this the first day you arrived. but you had wanted to learn their numbers, their plans, their weaknesses. most of all, you wanted them to know. you wanted to look shigaraki in the eye when the realization hit.

as the last of the pink invisibility potion’s effect vanished, you became fully visible, standing calmly amidst the carnage. shigaraki was on his knees, one hand clawing at his own melting neck, the other pointing a trembling, blistering finger at you. his eyes, wide with pain and a dawning, furious understanding, locked onto yours. “you…” he choked out, blood and something darker frothing on his lips. “you… bitch… you’re a mage.”

you simply looked back at him, your expression cold, not even bothering to explain yourself. “you wanted to see the hope leave my husband’s eyes,” you said, your voice carrying over the dying moans. “i wanted to see the understanding enter yours. i want that to be the last thing you see.”

then, as the final cries dissipated into wet silence and the hall floor became a grisly puddle of what was once the unseen, you heard it. a roar, familiar and earth-shaking, echoed from outside. them a few minutes later, thunder of a hundred boots followed, then the splintering crash as the main doors to the hall were blown inward.

katsuki came in first, an avatar of wrath with his sword drawn. eijiro was at his side, hardened skin glinting, his own weapon ready. they burst into the room prepared for a fight, for a rescue, for a desperate last stand. what they saw instead was a scene from a nightmare: the melted, horrific remains of a hundred enemies, and you, standing untouched in the center of it all, your dress clean amidst the gore.

you turned from the mess at your feet and saw them, their faces frozen in shock, their weapons lowering slightly in confusion.

a slow smile touched your lips. “you came,” you said.

then you ran to them, ignoring the shock that still held them rigid. you threw your arms around katsuki first, feeling the solid, trembling strength of him, then turned and pulled eijiro into the embrace. you hugged them both fiercely, burying your face between them, inhaling the familiar scents of smoke and spice and dragon-scale.

for a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the crackle of dying embers from the shattered door.

“what… what happened here?” eijiro finally managed, his voice rough as he held you, his eyes scanning the horrific room.

katsuki was staring at you, his red eyes blazing with a thousand questions. “who did this?” he demanded, his grip on you almost painful.

you pulled back just enough to look at them both, your smile turning a little vague, a little secretive. “they served a bad cause,” you said lightly, your tone almost casual. then you nodded towards the remains. “we should burn what’s left. just in case.”

they looked at you, really looked at you. the queen they had coddled and protected, the woman they had searched for with fire and blood, stood before them cool and unharmed in a chamber of death she had seemingly orchestrated.

in that moment, smeared with the indirect evidence of her vengeance, she was the most terrifyingly beautiful thing they had ever seen.

katsuki swallowed hard, his kingly composure fighting with his sheer, bewildered awe. he gave a sharp nod and turned to the troops crowding the doorway. “search every crevice of this damned tower! make sure there’s nothing left alive!”

once his men finished their search, katsuki looked at eijiro. the dragon hybrid met his gaze, gave a single, grim nod, and stepped back. his body began to change, scales erupting, form expanding until the great red dragon filled the space, careful of you and katsuki.

with a deep, rumbling inhale, he unleashed a torrent of cleansing dragonfire, red and hot, over the entire hall, incinerating the gruesome evidence until nothing remained but ash and scorched stone.

when it was done, and eijiro had shifted back to his human form, the three of you stood in the doorway of the ruined tower, the cold forest air washing over you.

you looked at your two lovers, their faces etched with relief, confusion, and a newfound, fierce pride. you reached out, taking one of each of their hands in yours. your voice was soft and utterly calm.

“let’s go home.”

the world was reduced to a dizzying, overwhelming cascade of pleasure, heat and the smell of them—smoke, leather and the clean scent of dragon-scale. you were suspended between them, a trembling, moaning bridge of need.

“oh—yeah. just like that, ha’nghh!”

beneath you, eijiro lay on his back on the massive bed, his strong hands gripping your thighs as his mouth worked between your legs. his tongue was relentless, a hot, wet point of focus that licked and probed, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive flesh in a way that made you jerk and whimper.

his red hair was a vibrant splash against the dark linens, his crimson eyes glazed with lust as he looked up at you, watching every expression that crossed your face.

“tastes like victory,” he groaned against you, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. “my perfect queen.”

behind you, katsuki was a solid wall of muscle. his hands were on your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks you’d wear proudly tomorrow. he was pounding into you from behind, each deep, driving thrust pushing you down onto eijiro’s mouth. the angle was devastating, filling you completely, stretching you in the most exquisite way.

“fuck… so tight, baby,” katsuki snarled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “clenching around me like a fucking vise. still wound up from whatever the fuck you did to those assholes, aren’t you?” he punctuated his words with a particularly sharp thrust that made you cry out.

“f-fuck,” you could only moan, a broken, continuous sound. your head was thrown back against katsuki’s shoulder, your body used and worshiped between your two of them. one of your hands was braced on eijiro’s firm stomach, feeling the muscles jump and coil with his efforts. the other reached back, fingers tangling in katsuki’s sweat-damp hair.

katsuki bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin, a pressure that sent a jolt of pure lightning through your veins.

you arched, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. “yes… just like that.”

“mine,” he growled against your skin, his hips never ceasing their brutal rhythm. “ours. no one touches you like this. no one takes you like us.”

his praise flooded you with a warmth that rivaled the physical pleasure. “hah— shit… yours. only yours.”

eijiro moaned in agreement, the sound vibrating through your clit. his tongue delved deeper, lapping up the combined evidence of your arousal and katsuki’s earlier claim.

“you taste s’good, sweetheart,” eijiro breathed, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. “watching you stand there in that tower… watching the chaos you created, eyes blazing… fuck.” he surged forward again, his tongue circling your entrance where katsuki’s cock stretched you open. “never been harder in my life.”

your hand on eijiro’s stomach slid lower, your fingers wrapping around the thick, leaking length of his cock. he was rock-hard, he bucked up into your touch with a guttural groan that you felt against your most intimate flesh.

“yes… fuck, just like that,” eijiro begged, his hips stuttering. “touch me while katsuki fucks you. let me feel you.”

“your so—ah! fuck… right there, kats—so big.” you stroked eijiro in time with katsuki’s thrusts, a messy, uncoordinated rhythm that drove all three of you wild.

the sounds were obscene. the wet slap of katsuki’s skin against yours, the slick sounds of eijiro’s mouth on you, the ragged panting and groans that filled the chamber.

“look at her,” katsuki grunted, his pace becoming even more punishing. “taking us both. claiming her rewards. you earned this, didn’t you? every fucking scream, every drop of their blood… earned you this.”

“y-yeah… deserved this.” you threw your head back as eijiro licked a long strip in your heat.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” eijiro echoed, his voice thick, he let go of your thigh with one hand to guide your stroking on his cock, showing you the pressure he liked. “just like that, princess. so perfect.”

the dual assault was too much, yet not enough. you were hurtling towards a peak, teetering on the edge. katsuki felt it, the way your inner muscles began to flutter and spasm around him.

“gonna cum f’me?” he rasped, his own control fraying. “gonna cum all over eijiro’s face while i’m buried inside you? do it. show us how much you missed us. how much you needed this.”

“i… i can’t… it’s too much…” you sobbed, overwhelmed.

“you can,” eijiro said, his tone shifting to that warm, coaxing rumble that always soothed you. “that’s it, just like that. let go for us. we’ve got you.”

that did it.

the combination of katsuki’s demanding possession and eijiro’s tender encouragement shattered your last thread of control.

“ugh—! ah, baby, katsuki. right there… yes.” your orgasm ripped through you with a silent scream that turned into a raw, broken wail. your body convulsed, clamping down on katsuki’s cock as you ground down against eijiro’s mouth, your hand tightening almost painfully on eijiro’s length.

“fuck yes! that’s it!” katsuki roared, his thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy as your violent clenching pulled his own release from him. he slammed into you one final, deep time, burying himself to the hilt as he came with a guttural shout, his hot release flooding you, joining the messy, perfect mix of sensations.

eijiro groaned through your climax, drinking you down, his own hips thrusting up into your slackening hand. “inside… need to be inside…” he managed to gasp.

katsuki, still pulsing within you, pulled out with a wet sound that made you whimper at the sudden emptiness. he didn’t let you collapse. in one smooth, powerful motion, he lifted you from eijiro’s face and turned you, laying you down on your back on the bed beside his trembling second.

eijiro was on you in an instant, his body covering yours, his weight a familiar comfort. he kissed you, deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. he positioned himself at your entrance, still stretched and slick from katsuki.

“look at me,” eijiro whispered, his crimson eyes holding yours. you saw it all there—the fear they’d felt, the pride, the burning, possessive love.

“want you inside me, eiji. want more… please.” you moaned into his mouth, your oversensitive body singing with a fresh wave of sensation.

eijro turned you around until you were laying prone with him behind you before he pushed inside in one slow, devastating glide, filling the emptiness katsuki had left. “yeah? fuck— there you go, sweetheart. take all of me.”

“ah, yeah. please need more.” you pushed your ass towards his heavy and hot cock.

eijiro’s body is a furnace against your back, his chest pressed to your spine, his arms banded around your torso as he moves inside you with a deep, relentless rhythm. “you’re so fucking tight… hah! ya clenching around me, baby.”

“faster, eiji. fuck me faster.” you’re on your side, facing katsuki, who lays propped on one elbow beside you, watching with dark, smoldering eyes. his fingers are in your hair, petting the damp strands with a possessive gentleness that contrasts the carnal scene.

“look at her,” katsuki murmurs, his voice a low, proud rumble. his thumb strokes your temple. “taking you so deep, eijiro. look how she opens up for you.”

eijiro groans into the crook of your neck, his thrusts deepening. “she feels like heaven… so warm… so perfect for us.” he bites your shoulder gently, a soft nip that makes you gasp and push back against him. “our brave girl. our little warrior queen.”

“feels s-so g-good— ngnh hah, shit. so deep.” you bit do onto the pillow, drooling.

you’re caught between them, your mind hazy with pleasure and the sheer safety of their combined presence. katsuki’s cooing is a soft, continuous counterpoint to eijiro’s grunts and the wet, rhythmic sound of your bodies joining.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” katsuki whispers, his vermillion eyes locked on yours. “let him have you. you earned this. you earned every fucking inch.” his praise is a drug, feeding your need. “strong enough to slaughter your captors… strong enough to take both us all night long.”

“oh, shit… this pussy feels so good f’me.” eijiro’s pace quickens, becoming more urgent. one of his hands slides down from your chest to your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that have you crying out, your back arching.

“katsuki… i’m…” you whimper, reaching for him.

“i know,” katsuki says, leaning in to kiss you, deep and slow, swallowing your moans as eijiro pushes you over the edge. your orgasm crashes through you, a blinding wave that makes you clench violently around eijiro, milking his own release from him with a guttural roar. he collapses against you, spent, his weight a comforting anchor.

katsuki’s hand never stops petting your hair. “good girl. just ride it out like that. so good for us,” he murmurs, watching eijiro catch his breath.

after a few moments of heavy silence, eijiro pulls out slowly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade before rolling onto his back. you’re trembling, boneless.

but katsuki isn’t done. the look in his eyes is still hungry, still proud and possessive. “i’m not done with you yet, my wife,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “need to feel you again. need to remind you who you belong to.”

he moves behind you, replacing eijiro’s warmth with his own. he pulls you back against his chest, his cock already hard and pressing against your backside. eijiro, recovering quickly, shifts to face you. he leans in and kisses you, slow and deep, his hands cupping your face as katsuki positions himself.

“ready for him, princess?” eijiro asks against your lips.

you nod, dazed. “yes. claim me again, please.”

katsuki guides himself into you from behind, a slow, filling stretch that makes you moan into eijiro’s mouth. his thrusts are deep and measured, each one a deliberate claiming. he bites your shoulder again, a sharper claim this time. “gods—hah… gonna breed you so deep, fucking mark you from the inside,” he growls into your skin.

eijiro breaks the kiss to watch, his own hand drifting down to play with your nipple, pinching and rolling it. “you’d be so beautiful round and with child,” he breathes. “completely full. completely ours.”

the thought of being bred by the two of them and having their children made you arch deeper into katsuki, moaning and clenching harder. “yeah… wanna… wanna—f-fuuucking hell nghh. wanna be bred, kats.”

katsuki’s hand slides around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts “yeah? gonna make me a daddy? i’mma make you you a mommy, baby. fill you up with my cum,” he promises, his voice tight with his own building need.

“cum— i’m gonna cum. right there…. ohnnghah,” you shatter again, a silent, breathless climax that seizes your whole body.

“shit! oh my fucking gods. fucking take it,” katsuki follows with a harsh groan, pumping into you, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.

you drift for a while, cradled between them. but eijiro stirs first, his energy seemingly boundless. he kisses his way down your body, his intentions clear. you’re too sensitive, too spent, but he is insistent.

“last one, sweetheart,” he promises, his voice warm against your inner thigh. “let me taste you again. let me taste both of us on you.”

katsuki, still holding you from behind, chuckles darkly. “fucking dragon stamina,” he mutters, but his hand encourages you, spreading your legs for eijiro’s questing mouth.

“ah!” you flinched at him lapping up your juices, overstimulated. “slowly, eiji—ngh too much, hah…”

you feel eijiro humming as he eats you out with a devoted intensity, lapping up the combined evidence of your shared passion.

katsuki whispers filthy, proud praises in your ear, his hands roaming your body. “that’s it,” he murmurs. “feel good, huh? yeah?”

“m’gonna cum again… so fucking g-good,” you were writhing, the intensity and your sensitivity making you feel pain and pleasure.

“let go, baby. cum for eijiro. give us one more… just like that.” katsuki helped coaxed you as he placed kisses on your damped temple.

you cum under eijiro’s tongue one final, trembling time, your voice gone, your body humming with overstimulated pleasure.

eijiro crawls back up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

they arrange themselves around you, a tangle of limbs and warmth in the center of the massive bed. katsuki at your back, eijiro facing you, his head on your chest. their hands are on you, possessive.

“shhh… we’ve got you. it’s over. you did so good for us baby,” eijiro whispers into your hair, his voice thick with sleep and finality.

“sleep. we’re not going anywhere,” katsuki mumbles against your skin, already halfway to dreams.

you fall asleep surrounded, safe, and utterly claimed, the scent of smoke, dragon-scale, and your own satisfied skin the last thing you know.

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[for-ests]

When The Sun Hits Johnny Storm x Reader (pt4)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 Summary: As Reed Richard’s most brilliant physicist, Johnny Storm supposed you were off limits. But when a cosmic entity who threatens to consume your planet appears, he realizes he needs to at least tell you how he feels before it's too late. WC: 8.7k CW: smut toward the end, culingnus, pnv. A/N: finally finished<3 tysm to everyone that has been reading i hope you enjoy! again, my apologies for how long it took. taglist in comments! read on AO3 here

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

The weekend morning always seemed to greet you like an old friend. A grounding comfort in the chaos of everyday life. Your escape was early and quiet, long before the birds dared to sing. 

Even if the doctors recommended that you rest, work still called to you. The laboratory was your haven, after all, one of the only places that could distract you from the sirens blaring in your mind. 

And despite how calmly your life faded back into a familiar routine, you knew time was slipping away. It was something unquantifiable, perilous and untamed—but it was there, and it was noticeable in your actions. 

What you had learned was that happiness was never promised, and no matter how hard you tried, it could be taken from you. The same force that had already rewritten you once would eventually come back. Or perhaps something worse. 

Because of that, you had to keep working. You needed to get a grip on your powers. 

The world had shifted, colors were sharper, and mornings felt heavier with meaning. You’d survived your greatest trial, only to find the horizon crowded with new possibilities. Each one daunting and laced with uncertainty. 

Even though there was peace and your body had healed, your problems had multiplied. But for you, that fear only pushed you harder. It inspired you to continue. 

That was why you kept returning to the lab, specifically at hours where you knew the others wouldn’t interrupt you. 

Reed understood that anxiety all too well.

He found you gnawing absently on a water bottle straw. Plastic pressed between your teeth, wires clinging to your skin, your gaze fixed on the chalkboard’s tangled equations.

Usually, the hiss of the doors opening caught your attention but, this time, you hadn’t averted your gaze until he was standing right beside you. 

“You have the weekend off, you know that, right?” Reed sighed. 

His eyes flickered to the multiple wires that were connected to you—testing that he was supposed to do for you later. Tomorrow. One at a time.

“—And you’re not supposed to do this without me,” he scolded.

Over the last week, you’d been entirely focused on understanding your new abilities and recording every sliver of data you could.

Plants littered the workshop, some of them as vibrant as ever, and some still in stages of decay. There were even some animals Ben and Johnny had rescued off the street in hopes that you could heal them.

It was successful.

Reed mentally noted that as he passed by the cages, every subject had a remarkable recovery. Flowers that were wilting in the corner had perked up and bloomed again after your touch. A sparrow with a broken wing was now hopping around and chirping quietly. Even a stray dog, stitched and sickly only the day before, wagged its tail, barking enthusiastically at Reed as he walked past.

But when he glanced back at you, he felt worried. Reviving dead leaves or mending fractured bones was impressive, but he knew each act took a visible toll. Only a few days before, your hands were trembling after prolonged healing, and a faint golden scar sometimes streaked your skin when you pushed too far. Abilities like yours always had a limit, one that you hadn’t capped yet. Perhaps time would tell…

You noticed it too, but you didn’t want to stop. Not yet, not until you discovered your limit. 

“I’m sorry,” your sheepish reply interrupted his train of thought as you began to pluck the wires off your body. “I’m feeling a little paranoid…. couldn’t sleep.”

You folded everything back up against the machines, having the results you needed anyways. 

He noticed the scattered recordings littering your desk, some had even invaded his workspace.  You were rarely this disorganized.

“That’s normal,” Reed assured gently, sitting down in a chair across from you and handing you a peace offering, a simple latte probably made by herbie.

But was anything about your life actually normal?

You let the silence stretch, sipping deeply as steam curled around your nostrils. Herbie’s handiwork, no doubt. Still, the warmth revived you, stoking your resolve to work before you could surrender to Johnny’s promise of rest. You couldn’t give him your best until you tamed the relentless questions swirling in your mind.

Even if you technically had the day off. 

“Pain level?” Reed eventually asked from your silence. You were clearly determined, and he knew that you wouldn’t stop.

“One,” you confirmed. “Like yesterday.” 

Your mentor mentally jotted it down. “Good. Are you sleeping at all?”

“Yes, most nights. It just…doesn't feel right to be safe,” you admitted. “After everything, that is.” You began to tap your fingernails against the clay mug, trying to understand what it exactly was that you were feeling. It had been like this for weeks now. 

“What else?” Reed pried, noticing how flustered you suddenly became when you trailed off.

You sighed, not in annoyance, but as if it was a secret. “I only sleep well if Johnny is beside me.”

“A strange development,” Reed pretended to think deeply. “I wonder why that is?”

The two of you shared a laugh.

“I’m just trying to finish this test before…” You trailed off. Johnny wasn’t a distraction—if anything, he was the lifeline you craved. Your routines teetered on the edge of obsession; sometimes, nothing else existed until you found the answer. 

Reed understood. It took an immense effort on his part, but he realized how you felt right now was what he experienced trying to impress his wife when they were just kids. 

He cleared his throat. “So, have you actually gotten anything done in your early morning psychosis?”

You nodded toward the computer, where your vitals and composition had finally finished analyzing. Galactus had left behind copious amounts of radiation, signatures that would have been visible in your DNA if he had anything to do with your abilities.

“I have proof that Galactus didn’t give me this power.”

You turned the monitor that displayed your vitals and blood chart toward him. “After analyzing all of the specimens you brought back from the Galactus visit, there are no similarities in my DNA. Not a single one.”

A long moment of silence passed as Reed took in the information, something that shouldn’t make sense, something that would be deemed impossible if he wasn’t actually staring at the chart.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Your biological makeup is different now. It's more similar to ours.” 

“It’s different, though.” You pointed out the anomaly, flipping to your brain scans. “And what’s in here now… is confusing.”

Mid sip of his coffee, Reed paused, his eyes widening, but they did not leave the chart.

When you glanced at him, you saw the conflict on his face. Your mentor, the smartest man in your world, was stumped. If he couldn’t figure it out, nobody would be able to. What a privilege and a curse it was to know him.

After a brief moment of analyzing the data, Reed stretched his arm across the room and set his coffee down, snatching a notepad and pen.

“Your brain changed, or is still changing.” He started scribbling. “Brains usually contain two types of tissue: white and gray matter, but yours— it's changing… there's something else. Deep within your hypothalamus there is a black matter. Whatever it is, our MRI can’t penetrate it.”

“It's not from an outside force. Something must have happened when I-” you paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “Died, but I can’t remember. So that only leaves the option of whatever this power is, comes from my own doing. Like it was always within me.” 

Reed was following your logic, and added onto it. “But you're human, and there's no record of anyone from this planet having resurrection abilities until Franklin. Not that this is that surprising since we’ve come into contact with two alien species. So that means there’s more, and that means our history isn’t entirely accurate. Or it could be magic. It’s definitely something we have no knowledge of. It's not in any of our databases, and it’s something that happened in between the stages of life and death.” 

The sound of erratic scribbling was the only sound that filled the laboratory, following the clash of chalk and board with his other free hand. You watched in silence, following every move he made.

“This mysterious matter is functioning at a higher rate than both the grey and white matter. A new network of cell bodies. We can see the pathways but not the synapses firing.”

A shiver ran down your spine as the truth hit you. Reed’s words felt like both a warning and a prediction. What happened to you wasn’t an accident; it was deliberate. You had unlocked something inside of you that no human had before on your planet, whether by your own hand or something else. 

Science and emotion tangled inside you, leaving you breathless as the magnitude of your transformation finally settled in.

“It’s unlike anything we’ve ever recorded,” Reed whispered in awe. 

Well, that was something. Still, the answers hovered just beyond your grasp.

“Any idea on how to get more information?” You asked. “Or results?

“Not without taking your head off of your body.”

“Reed!” Sue scolded as she entered the laboratory. “Why would you say it like that?”

Your laugh echoed. “It's okay, he’s right.”

Sue approached the two of you, and you turned the screen to face her as she hovered over you, her hands gripping the edge of the chair.

“This is all the information we gathered.”

Another ten minutes passed as you and Reed explained your findings to Sue. She was glued to the screen, giving your shoulder a squeeze in admiration.

“Are you feeling a bit better about everything?” she asked.

You nodded, tilting your head back to look at her. “I am. I’m ready to take a break. Every test we can do has been done. I’m thinking this is only something time will tell.” 

“A temporary conclusion,” Sue confirmed. “Perhaps after some rest, which you really do need, you can come back to it.” 

“She’s right,” Reed encouraged. “I’ll keep working for now.” 

You were satisfied with that. “Okay, I know. I’ve been pushing myself too hard.” 

“At least you can admit it,” Sue chuckled. “Now go, there’s someone upstairs waiting for you.”

Without question, you knew who it was. 

Johnny was something else. Your mind was always whirling without pause, making it nearly impossible to savor the good within your grasp. That all disappeared when you thought about him. 

Beneath all the logic, a feeling lingered—something science could never explain. It was almost spiritual, a sense that you were destined for something greater.

And that anomaly to you was Johnny.

Your Johnny.  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Waking up to Johnny’s breakfast felt like a luxury you’d never dared to imagine, let alone get used to.

“It smells lovely,” you whistled, the aroma of fried meat wafting through the kitchen and living room.

Glancing behind him, Johnny chuckled, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. “Finally, I’m graced with your presence.”

“As if you weren’t holding me all night.”

“Is it a crime to miss you?” he feigned hurt.

You slipped around the counter and melted into his arms, peeking up at him as he expertly flipped the last piece of bacon. He divided the feast between two plates.

“Bon apetite,” Johnny replied, moving out of your embrace and bowing slightly. He outstretched the plate to you. It was a shocking array of everything you would order at a restaurant—bacon, eggs, pancakes, and fruit.  

“You made this?”

“Herbie helped!” Johnny rushed sheepishly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he watched you sit before him at the breakfast bar. “But yes, mostly me.”

“A huge improvement.”

“I will try, for you.”

The two of you shared a kiss over the counter.

“Thank you, Johnny,” you giggled. “It looks amazing.”

“Don’t say anything until you take a bite.”

You did, and it was just as amazing as it looked.

"So what did I do for you to make this?”

“Just being you,” he chuckled, taking his own first bite. “But… I do have a request.”

“And that is?”

“I want you to take the weekend off.”

“And why is that?”

“Let me take you out on a date tonight. A real one.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So we’ve been on fake dates?”

“Every moment I get to spend with you feels like a date,” he confessed.

Since there was nobody else around, you knew that for a fact, you stood up and walked around the breakfast bar, almost batting your eyelashes. He'd never been so straightforward before. Neither had you. But almost dying would do that to anyone.

“You’re so corny,” you teased, sliding your arms around his neck, drawing him closer until your lips nearly touched.

“But you love it,” he rebuttaled with a smile. 

“I do,” you confessed. You wanted to say it so bad. Being with him made all your worries disappear. And sometimes that was the problem. There was still so much you had to do. But every once in a while, you need to indulge.

“You deserve a break, after everything,” he continued. “And I want to show you how special you are to me.”

You could feel your face flush, if it already wasn’t obvious to him. It was hard to hold his gaze when he showered you with such meaningful compliments. And damn, was it working.

At last, you had something new to anticipate: time alone, just the two of you.

And if Johnny had anything to say about it, the best night of your life was only just beginning.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

It felt like love.

That feeling lingered as you leaned against the balcony, wearing a dress for the first time in what felt like ages.

Johnny had picked it out for you. It took every ounce of restraint not to squeal when you discovered it draped across your bed, paired with a note that was both sweet and daring. The dress fit like a dream, hugging you in all the right places. You always knew Johnny paid attention, but you hadn’t realized just how much.

Heels remained your nemesis, though, and you had abandoned them by the door. 

For now, it was just you and the stars. Your hands curled around the telescope, tracing constellations like you did in the old days—when it was you and the universe, hungry to discover, to reach farther, to become something more.

The sliding glass door drifted open, a slight whoosh gaining your attention.

“You clean up well, kid,” Ben complimented, taking a few heavy strides until he joined your side.

“Thanks Ben.”

His rocky hands rested next to yours, his gaze settling on the last sliver of the sunset, a light blue shade that interrupted the earth from the vastness of space.

You could tell he was wondering what you were doing out there. But what you didn’t know was that Johnny had relied on your routine, and you were following the exact plan he had in his head. Ben didn’t even need to make up an excuse to get you out there. Johnny knew you well.​

“I’ve always wanted to go to space,” you sighed, a hint of melancholy in your tone, pulling away from the telescope and clicking the lens back into place.

“I did too. And despite everything, the view was definitely worth it all.”

“Way to rub it in,” you grumbled, before laughing softly.

Ben nudged you. “Things are different now. With your powers, you may be able to.”

Glancing at him, you smiled. “I guess there’s some good to it all then.”

“Are you really holding up alright?

You nodded, gazing back upon the horizon. “I feel like I’m right where I need to be.”

“I’m happy for you kid,” Ben said. “Johnny could use someone as grounded as you.”

Your eyes crinkled, a laugh etching from your lips. You nudged him back.

“I always hoped so," you whispered, so quietly that Ben almost didn’t catch it.

“I totally saw it coming,” he teased, about to say more until he was interrupted by the doors whooshing open again.

“And you’re finally going on a date!” Sue gushed, like she heard the entire conversation. “Johnny became a lovesick idiot the moment you arrived." 

“Don’t put too much pressure on the poor girl,” Ben chuckled. “She’s already nervous.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face Sue and Reed. Reed was bouncing Franklin on his hip, who seemed mesmerized by the bouquet of flowers in his mother’s grasp.

Excitedly, she outstretched them to you. “From Johnny.” She smiled. “And us.”

Graciously, you took them, almost fawning over their ornate beauty. It was the largest bouquet you’d ever received. An array of your favorite flowers, something Johnny seemed to have remembered.

“What?” you gasped. “You guys didn’t have to!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Reed chuckled. Johnny didn’t even have to force them. They wanted to, and would forever be grateful to you.

Their love anchored you in reality. Their support wrapped around you, making you feel truly part of their family. In truth, you already belonged.

In that moment, every hardship felt worth it. Being with them was a blessing, a reminder that your purpose reached beyond your own ambitions—it was woven together with theirs.

About to thank them, you were cut off by a distant rumble that was gaining distance at an incredible speed. You instantly recognized the roaring, as the sheer force of Johnny’s flames changed the color of the sky behind you.

He arrived in full comedic splendor, making you laugh with his effortless showmanship. What a showboat.

“Y/N!” he yelled out your name as he approached the railing.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, covering your mouth. Once, embarrassment might have swallowed you whole. Now, you just grinned.​

“Do you like the flowers?”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. The wind carried the flowers’ fragrance back to you. Everything felt impossibly perfect—the view, the moment, and him, just as beautiful as the nickname he longed to give you.

“My favorite.”

“Good.”

You’d known Johnny for years, memorized every quirk and secret, yet your heart still skipped whenever his eyes found yours.

After all this time, he was still steadfast—waiting for you, protecting you, standing by your side through everything. Whatever the tabloids claimed, you’d always known his heart.

A man who wanted to promise you forever.

Eventually, you outstretched your hand, somewhat timidly. 

As Johnny swept you into his arms, you thrust the bouquet at Ben. A few petals broke free, swirling into the wind—some dissolving into dust from Johnny’s lingering warmth.

“Make sure you put them into a vase!” you pleaded, feeling Johnny’s arm curl around your waist.

“Don’t have too much fun,” Reed teased.

One last time, you looked back at the three of them. Your smile said everything, no words needed; they already knew.

“Ready?” Johnny asked, gazing down at you with an unmistakable fondness. One that he'd sheltered for so long, one that had always been obvious to you despite the circumstances. And now the two of you could finally be together like you were meant to.

“Yes—” The word barely left your lips before he launched you both into the sky.

Your scream soared above the rush of wind, drawing laughter from the others. They all remembered their first wild flight with Johnny.

But yours was special.

​.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

When you and Johnny finally touched down, legs still trembling from the wild ride, you nearly toppled straight back into his arms.

“Easy,” he chuckled, an arm gently resting against your lower back. “It takes some getting used to.”

“No kidding!” you huffed, running your fingers through your hair, silently hoping the flight hadn’t undone the hour you’d spent styling it. You had other plans for that later.

“You look beautiful,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand you missed behind your ear. You still couldn’t believe that you were immune to his flames and how well he could control them.

“Thank you,” you managed, watching his flames flicker into embers and vanish on the night breeze. He stood before you in a suit that matched your dress perfectly. “You’re looking  irresistible yourself.”

“I try,” he replied, trying to cover up his blush with a confident smirk. “I really want to impress you.”

He hovered just inches away, the air between you charged with anticipation.

“Oh Johnny,” you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. “You already have.”

He closed the gap, a hand coming to cup your neck as he pressed his lips against yours. It was long, and hot, just like him, just like the tension that had been boiling between the two of you for God knows how long.

“Come,” he eventually said when he pulled away, moving his hand to grasp yours.

“What do you have planned?”

“Nothing crazy.” He shrugged, refusing to spoil the surprise.

The restaurant looked completely different at night, with candles illuminating the tables and soft music playing in the background. Johnny had reserved the entire place just for the two of you. When the waiter brought out the champagne, Johnny cleared his throat and looked at you seriously.

Your eyes swept over the venue, and words failed you. It was extravagant, dreamlike, and utterly private, just the way you liked it.

Johnny pulled out the chair for you, and you gathered your dress to the side before sitting.

Once he sat beside you and the glasses were poured, you glanced at him sheepishly.

“This is lovely.”

"I wanted it to be perfect," he admitted, taking your hand across the table. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand. "You deserve perfection."

Nobody had ever said that to you before, and you weren’t sure how to reply. Johnny always left you speechless, always jumbling your brain with emotions and feelings you couldn’t quite pinpoint and hadn’t experienced before.

“Am I being too forward?” he asked, a flicker of worry in his deep blue eyes.

“Not at all,” you replied quickly, stammering over your words. “I just can't believe it?” Your explanation came out more as a question than a statement.

“Is it something you want to get used to?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back, using your free hand to grasp your champagne glass. The alcohol would definitely help calm your nerves.

Johnny followed suit, chuckling at your bashfulness. He loved making you squirm, but was also squirming himself. Finally, he had you all to himself. There was a moment of peace, and he wanted to make the most of it, while your mind was clear, while your responsibilities were minimal.

The way he gazed at you made your heart racing. This wasn’t just a date; it felt monumental, as if he was preparing to give you the world as he knew it.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Meeting his eyes again, you set your glass down. The setting was so romantic, so intimate, something you’d been hoping and waiting for.

“Ask away.”

“I promised everyone, even myself, that I wouldn’t disrupt your flow. That I wouldn’t make a move or bother you. Well, Angel, you solved our world’s biggest problem and so much more. And I know there will be more in the future, but I want to be there with you, by your side.”

You knew exactly where Johnny was headed. Your heart thundered, ears burning with anticipation. Finally.

“And?” you managed to squeak, unable to break eye contact.

“I was kind of hoping that you would be my girlfriend,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Please be my girlfriend… I’ll do my best to never disappoint you.”

You bit back a giggle, feeling the nerves radiating from him—his hand clammy in yours. Your smile bloomed, wide and genuine.

“It doesn’t have to be official to the whole world!” he rushed after. “Just to us…. For my family.”

“It can be the whole world,” you said. “As long as I have you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, the always confident Human Torch looked utterly speechless.

"Really?” he asked quietly. He definitely thought it would take more convincing.

“Yes,” you responded. “At this point I can’t imagine you not by my side through the craziness of everything. You’ve always been there.”

Steady. Yours.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring your words. When he opened them again, they were filled with a depth of emotion that was usually hidden behind his playful smirk to others, but one that was all so familiar to you.

“I feel the same,” he said, releasing your hand and shifting in his chair. He had been tense and anxious before, but now he could relax. “God, I’ve been waiting so long to do that.”

Your response was interrupted by two waiters approaching, gently placing your plate in front of you. A steak that was still sizzling, accompanied by two of your favorite sides.

“But I suppose my answer depends on how juicy this steak is,” you teased. “I need a little more convincing.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement, the tension breaking as he laughed. "Let's find out, shall we?" he said, cutting into the meat and holding a forkful up to your lips.

It was, without question, the best steak you’d ever tasted. Your eyes nearly rolled back as you savored each bite.

“I think being your girlfriend would be pretty cool,” you laughed.

He pumped his fist, a triumphant laugh echoing through the empty restaurant. He looked absurdly pleased, as if he’d just won the greatest battle of his life. As if there was anything that mattered more than saving the world.

"I'm taking that as a definitive yes," he grinned, popping a piece of steak into his own mouth. "Best decision you'll ever make, by the way."

“I can’t believe you rented out the entire place for me,” you said. You always appreciated how easily conversation flowed between the two of you, how you were able to let down your guard and professionalism. He was your escape from it all.  

Nervously, he scratched the back of his neck. “And the penthouse upstairs.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you tried to stifle your laugh. 

“Only if you want to!” he stammered. “There’s a hot tub.”

“Sounds amazing.”

He relaxed visibly, a mischievous grin returning as he leaned back in his chair. "I thought you might like that. The view is incredible up there. You can see the whole city. And… It's my favorite spot."

“Your spot for…?”

“Thinking!” He coughed, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. “Every handsome young bachelor-hero-has their thinking spot.” he retorted matter-of-factly. “Yours happens to be the lab.”

“Speaking of the lab,” you started, still buzzing, ears hot and flushed.

Intrigued, Johnny raised an eyebrow, raising his glass to you.

The clink made you chuckle. “With the development of my powers, it seems I would be able to handle space travel the next time it arises.

Of course, there would be more space travel. After all, you were an associate of the Fantastic Four. And now it was clear that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Well then,” Johnny started, knowing what you were getting at from your last conversation. “I have no objections next time. I even think I would feel safer with you by my side.”

Since there was nobody else in the restaurant, you cheered, still somewhat quietly, and jumped out of your seat. You rounded the table and threw yourself into his arms.

“Thank you!”

He chuckled, arms coming to embrace you wholly. He held you there, and you let him, only leaning back to kiss him in earnest.

“You didn’t need my permission,” he said, his smile fading away into an all-knowing simper. “You would find your way there all by yourself, somehow, someway.”

“Well of course,” you teased. “But I wouldn’t want to do it without your support.”

“We’d be a pretty kickass team, huh?”

​.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

After dinner, you and Johnny spent hours talking and reminiscing under the dim lighting and calming music. Even the desert was fantastic. You were full and tipsy, giggling all the way into the bathroom as you slipped into your swimsuit.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you attempted to fix your makeup. Your smile did not fade, and even you could see the difference. You felt complete, understanding that you were making the right decision. You’d never expected a reward for all of your hard work, but damn, did being with Johnny like this feel like one.

Someone who was truly yours, a person you could finally put first.

And, damn, every moment had been worth the wait.

He was already soaking in the hot tub when you stepped onto the patio. Your eyes widened, tracing the way steam curled around his muscles and water slid down his sculpted arms and chest.

You set your drink along the edge next to his beer can, which was gathering condensation. Over the sound of the jets and the chlorinated bubbles, you could hear a jazz song playing softly from the surrounding speakers.

“Finally ready to join me, Angel?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname, the ambiance solidifying how romantic it had been from the start.

“It’s perfect out here,” you replied, apprehensively dipping your toes in.

He took a sip of his beer. “It is now,” he smirked, watching you closely.  

The boiling water only came to your mid-waist, but it made you hiss in displeasure as your skin adjusted from the freezing cold to the unbearable heat. You held your breath as you submerged the rest of your body, letting the water reach your chin and wet your hair.

Settling in next to him, you hummed in pleasure, pressing an appreciative kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Johnny,” you said. “This has been the best night of my life.”

“You deserve it. I’m serious.”

“You deserve it, too,” you offered, smiling fondly. “I mean, you put in a lot of work. I still can’t believe you deciphered an alien language.”

He chuckled. “Me either.”

“You think you could speak it fluently?”

“Probably. I don’t have anyone to speak to.”

That alien woman sacrificed herself for him. You tried not to think about it, but that choice would never be forgotten or under-appreciated.

“Maybe we’ll see her again, or someone that does. And you can thank her.”

Johnny reflected for a moment, like he still hadn’t unpacked the gravity of it all. A part of him felt guilty, but also grateful. He just knew that he wouldn’t take another day for granted. “In a perfect world,” he finally said.

“It makes me so curious about what else is out there, how many languages we’ll never be able to hear.”

“I think we’ll have a few more to learn, at least.” He took a sip of his beer, tugging you closer.

He handed you your glass, and you eagerly took it.

“Do you think you would procreate with an alien if given the chance?”

“Before you were in my life, probably.”

You smacked him. “How crude!”

“C’mon Angel, you wouldn't?" Johnny nudged your neck, wrapping his arms and squeezing you against him. “Let’s say, hypothetically, not like this would ever happen, but what if an alien that was somehow hotter than me showed up all strong and commanding, you wouldn’t even think about it?”

You pretended to think hard. “Maybe,” you teased. “But you’re already like an alien.”

“Hey!” he groaned like you’d just shot him in the heart.

“The hottest alien ever, crowned in starfire, a living supernova,” you swooned, pushing off the bench and wading into the center of the tub, nose scrunched in playful challenge.

“Wow,” he whistled slowly. “You’re gonna make me burn up from that compliment.”

“Fitting,” you whispered before submerging your lips, wiggling your eyebrows. You wanted to internally slap yourself with how corny you were being. But, you weren’t sure how to act… how to initiate. You were his girlfriend now, for crying out loud. Yet, it still didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream you were expecting to be torn away from.

Johnny laughed. “Maybe you should write my articles from now on?”

You stood up, giggling to yourself. “I won’t ever deal with the press again unless there’s another life threatening event!”

Reaching for your champagne glass, you took a few sips before sitting back down next to him. “My heart is racing just thinking about it.”

A lie. Your heart raced for one reason only—him.

Johnny kissed your hair, leaning against you. He gazed upon the star-filled sky, wanting to thank them for this moment.

“Regardless, you did a great job. Everyone loves you.”

“I hope so.”

Did everyone include him?

His tone turned into something more serious.

“And in case I haven't told you enough, I want you to know that I’m proud of you, and that I’m here for you always.  I think about you all the time, you’re my first thought when I wake up in the morning and the last person I think about when I fall asleep-”

With glistening eyes, you turned to face him fully. The jets had finished their cycle, and the bubbles sizzled away.

“You’re the smartest person to me, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long now, hell, I knew from the moment we met. I would do anything for you…And I don’t care if it's too soon, and it’s okay if you’re not ready, but I know. I fell in love with you the day I met you.”

He cupped your cheek, finally realizing how much you’d gravitated toward him. “I love you, and I need you to know it. I want you to know that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world-” he corrected himself. “Across all worlds.”

Your lip quivered. “I love you too.”

He was everything you’d ever wanted in a man—and so much more. Words tangled on your tongue, never enough to capture how deeply you cared, wanted, needed him. You would always choose him first; he lived in every corner of your mind. Johnny was the love of your life, a truth you’d known from the very start. After everything, that certainty was woven into your soul.

“I’m so in love with you that it hurts.”

That was how you conveyed it all, staring at him, on the verge of tears. You couldn't even remember what else you said, if anything.

When you finally met Johnny’s dilated eyes, you saw them glisten.

He felt the same.

Like it was fate, like you were destined to be in every timeline. Every move he made always led back to you.

There was no reason to hold back now. He had always needed you, and being with you felt like surfacing for air after years beneath the waves.

“I love you,” he said again, drawing you closer. “So much…”

As soon as those words left his mouth, your lips touched, Johnny felt his emotions ignite in a peaceful yet passionate blaze that he had never felt before. How did he manage to last this long without trying?

You knew that if you were standing, your knees might have buckled. Being there with him, like that, was everything you could have ever wanted and more.

You kissed him back, deepening the kiss and asking for more. You were in love with him, and  now, he finally knew it.

“Johnny—” you gasped against his lips, literally melting into the steaming embrace. His hand guided you onto his lap. You obeyed, your heart beating erratically, pounding so loud that everything else became mere background noise.

The second kiss was wet, far less reserved than the first. Months of pent-up emotion poured into every movement, your skin aflame and your senses alive. Both of you could feel the sudden desperation, so much so that Johnny shuddered.

You were anything but resistant, eager to feel him, to cherish him. He had waited so long to have you alone like this, and he never thought he would be able to.

The kiss intensified, and your lips parted, inviting him for more. Practically begging for it.

Your lips began to move in sync, the kisses turning sloppy, filled with hunger and curiosity. Your tongues soon began to dance, sucking on each other as if you had never kissed before, as if your lives depended on it.

The last time you were alone like this, you were interrupted. There was a world to save. But those responsibilities were now non-existent. There was nothing stopping you now.

Johnny’s hands roamed, exploring every inch of your skin that he’d previously only dreamed of. You welcomed his touch, savoring his praise, growing intoxicated by the heat of his lips. You wanted more, needed more.

Your hips began to sway against his, your hands explored him as well, weakly tugging against the waistband of his trunks.

“Y/N...” His voice was strained with awe.

You felt like you were on fire, hardly able to focus on anything but the pounding in your chest, in your veins.

“We can’t do this here,” he sighed, chuckling nervously. Not for the first time.

“Then take me to the bed.”

Not only was your response confident, but it was a command. And what he saw in your eyes, filled with treasures he could previously only dream of, confirmed that he was totally and shamelessly in love with you.

Quickly, Johnny scooped you into his arms and carried you out of the hot tub. The water splashed everywhere, leaving a trail of puddles in the bedroom.

With both of you still dripping wet, Johnny dried you off with a towel, though sloppily.

You giggled, grabbing a towel yourself to dry his hair.

His eyes searched yours, and when the towel dropped to the floor, his fingers tugged at your bikini top.

“May I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

The cold air swelled your breasts, and he practically groaned, leaning down to kiss them.

Your fingers tangled in his damp blonde hair, letting out a breathy moan from his burning lips that seared across your soft skin.

Your bottoms came next, and he plucked the bow ties loose, letting them flop to the floor beside you.

“You’re a goddess,” he breathed, hands coming to cup the plush of your ass.

All you could manage was a light, breathy laugh as he scooped you into his arms and brought you to the bed.

Once he had laid you down, Johnny took a moment to just look at you. So beautiful, so perfect. And then, he finally leaned in and took your mouth with his.

Desperately, you curled around him, letting his hands finally wander where they were so eager to go.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips.

When he pulled away, you whispered in return. “I love you, too.”

His eyes glistened with desire as he lowered himself between your legs. Each of his arms curled around your thighs, bringing your entrance to his mouth. He needed to please you.​

One stroke of his tongue between your folds etched a whimper of pleasure from you.

Your hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him right where you wanted him. Johnny groaned primarily against your clit, letting his tongue lap harder.

You twitched, your moaning of his name filling the quietness of the suite.

He looked up at you through heavy-lidded, lustful eyes, a groan of satisfaction vibrating against your core. How desperate he was, how sloppy, but it worked. It worked too well, and you were already coming undone from how gentle he was with your clit, the smooth circles of his tongue edging you closer and closer, opening you up and preparing you for the utmost pleasure.

“Fuckkkk…” Johnny drawled, feeling your clit quiver against his movements. You were so pretty, so perfect, that he felt himself coming undone from just watching you unravel against him.

Greedily, he pushed a finger inside you.

“Hahhh-” you moaned, letting your legs fall further apart in an attempt to see his face and that damned smirk he couldn't get rid of.

“More?” he teased in a whisper.

You nodded, your core tightening in anticipation. “Please,” you breathed as his tongue flicked against your clit. Agonizingly slow, Johnny inserted another finger, still massaging your clit with his tongue.

He began to pump his fingers, the stimulation of both causing your back to arch. It was too much. You whimpered for him, because of him, and he felt his cock twitch just from the sight of you, from finally being able to taste you.

You were perfect for him, so expressive and responsive that it turned him on further.

“Cmon Angel,” he grunted. “You’re almost there.”

His words sent you over the edge. “Johnny!” you cried, heaving a broken breath as you released yourself all over him.

You were already seeing stars. Just as Johnny wanted, he couldn't help but smirk before leaning over you to capture your lips with his, relishing in his success.

As you came down from your high, you clung to him, desperate for more, reaching your hand down to his cock and guiding it to your entrance.

“Need you now,” you pleaded before kissing him again.

God, he loved you so much. Johnny felt like the luckiest guy in the universe to be able to make love to you.

And finally, he did, letting out a stifled grunt as he slowly sank into your wonder. Your hot breath mixed with his, unable to get enough, wondering how anything could top this moment—a union you’d been pinning for since you had met him.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, back arching within the same movement, unprepared for how thick and commanding he would be. You closed your eyes momentarily, only feeling, touching, and relishing in him. Your mind was filled with his rapture, his passion, his love.

“Feels so good,” you moaned, arms constricting around his neck, eyes squeezing shut from the intense pressure that filled and stretched you completely.

“I love you, Johnny,” you whimpered.

Euphoria was what you sought and what was promised in loving Johnny Storm. That was what you saw when you looked into his eyes, not just in this moment but with every promise for the future.

“Y/N…” he strained your name out, trying his best to wait even if it was excruciating. “I love you more.”

You were dripping, making it easy for him to thrust as slowly as he could, waiting for you to adjust, waiting for your command to take it even further. He kissed you over and over again, his breathing muffled with desperation. 

“K-Keep going,” you begged, not needing to repeat your demand before Johnny started to ravish you, pulling himself all the way out before slamming back inside you.

“Ah!” you cried out, legs curling around his hips, guiding him to the perfect angle. Exhilarated by your moans, he gradually began to thrust harder, obsessed with how your body trembled, pleading for more, praying for all of him.

The bed began to shake as his pumps grew more violent.

“Taking me so well, Angel,” Johnny complimented in a strained voice. He was vocally dirty, a far contrast from his usual demeanor, and you loved it, yet you couldn't find the time to reply between your cries of ecstasy, becoming increasingly crazed. You could almost sob at how vivifying it felt. All you managed to sound between erratic moans was breathless praise, only wanting to feel him.

“Shit…” Johnny groaned. “Wanted to fuck you so bad, been needing this. I love this, fuck.”

“Feels so good, Johnny–” you managed to choke out, your body jolting against him as you gazed into his eyes, pressing your lips against his before another moan escaped you.

“You’re perfect,” he grunted, biting down on his lip to stop another lovesick moan from escaping him.

You were magnificent, and Johnny couldn’t get enough. Having you like this was almost too much, and he was trying to control himself. Your sweet words and your moans of approval only riled him up more. And you were just so damn beautiful.

Months had been spent craving you like this, wholly his. Dreaming about you taking all of him so eagerly, moaning beneath him, thinking about nothing and nobody else. The desperation in your moans only fueled him, and he couldn't help but grin as you cupped his face, drawing him to the intensity of your gaze. Another sloppy kiss was shared before he followed your gaze down, which was focused on how he entered you, over and over again.  

Thrust after thrust, both of you began to reach a high you’d never felt before. Johnny needed you in every position, on every surface, till the sun peaked above the horizon. Your pussy was like a drug, and there was no possible way he could ever get enough.

Securely wrapping his arms around you, Johnny moved you onto his lap, desperate to have you bounce on his cock. He needed it like he needed air, the notion of you coming undone in his embrace, in his arms.

As you straddled him, Johnny took one of your breasts in his mouth, and his tongue swirled around your nipple.

“Please–” he couldn’t finish his question before your hips started to rock against him, cock still buried deep inside you. Your warmth engulfed him, and all he could do was run his hands down your ass before giving it an appreciative squeeze, etching a faint squeal from your mouth.

He helped guide your movements, but you did most of the work, bouncing on top of him as you held his shoulders, letting him suck on your breasts every time he stifled a moan. That was until he couldn’t anymore.

Johnny’s breathless moans warmed the crook of your neck as he continued to pound up into you, utterly pussy drunk. “So good, so beautiful…” He managed to utter his words, falling into a choppy, disarray of love-felt praise.

You whimpered in response, nails scratching down his back as your abdomen tightened, not only by his words but by his calculated thrusts.

“Mine,” he groaned, nails digging into the plush of your ass. “I love you.” His whines sounded above the slapping of your skin against his. “This is just a bonus.”

You tried to respond, almost unable to string a coherent sentence together from how perfectly he filled you up. “J-Johnny!” you cried, back arching against nothing but his forearms, feeling yourself falling apart at how eagerly your pussy took his massive length. “G-gonna cum!”

“Go ahead, baby,” he moaned, thrusting faster, deeper, harder. His hand reached to grip the headboard as it banged against the wall. “All over me,” he begged, panting, his control wavering as he locked eyes with you to glimpse euphoria.

“I w-” you tried your best to respond before your loudest cry yet echoed into the night, and you released yourself upon him, experiencing the most violent, leg-shaking orgasm of your entire life.

Your orgasm finished Johnny in a way he’d never experienced before.

“Yesss,” he hissed, both of you feeling how his cock jerked inside you. “Good girl-” he started, but hunched over, hardly moaning your name before he pulled himself out, clinging to you as his life depended on it.

Johnny could hardly hold himself up, chest rising and falling as he painted your stomach white, jumbled words of affirmation filling the silence.

It settled slowly, your breathing mingling with his. Both of you started to laugh, completely euphoric. 

Truly in love.  

The aftercare was luxurious. When you slid beneath the covers beside him, fresh from your shower, you let him feel every inch of your body again, massaging out the knots in your muscles. 

Your favorite movie flickered quietly on the TV, its familiar soundtrack weaving through the room as you curled up next to Johnny. Moments like these were precious, and you never knew how many you had left.

“Thank you for everything,” you reiterated. “It’s been amazing and I loved it. I love you.”

You spoke the words as if tasting them for the first time, still amazed that your heart could finally be heard.

He could have died happy, knowing you loved him in return.

Johnny kissed the top of your head, curling his arms tighter around you, desperate to have you as close as possible.

“I knew from the moment I saw you.”

You giggled. “There's no way you possibly could have known.”

“I knew that even if I went through that portal I would find my way back to you. I couldn’t leave you soulmatless after all.”

You laughed. “Oh? Are we soulmates now?”

“Of course,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That crooked grin of his only made your heart flutter more.

“Cmon, you really don’t feel like that?”

Somewhere deep inside, you had always known. The moment that golden dust broke your chains, the truth had taken root, even if you kept it hidden.

You melted into his arms, your cheek pressed to the warmth of his bare chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

A heart that beat for you alone.

“I do,” you whispered.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

A gentle, domestic rhythm had woven itself into your days with Johnny.

It was a relief to let the world fade away, to forget every worry except the ones Johnny refused to let linger.

Yet the months slipped past in a blur, vanishing far too quickly for your liking.

Hoping that time might finally favor you was nothing but a beautiful illusion.

It was naïve to think your powers were random, or that you could steer your own destiny, or that happiness was built to last. Even now, beneath the calm, you sensed a ripple of unease, like the hush before a storm. Something waited just out of sight, ready to break the peace when you least expected it.

After everything, you realized this life had never truly belonged to you.

There was always a price waiting to be claimed.

[sincerely-star]

꒰ ABOUT ꒱ ✶⋆.˚ ⌕

ⓘ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima ⸝⸝ fluff, smut, angst, alternative universe (au: fantasy), polyamorous romance, action-adventure, mature themes

what if you were a princess from distant land sent to another nation to marry a barbarian they call a dragon king only to find yourself tangled in a dangerous court filled with brutal traditions, political unrest, betrayal, and two possessive men who slowly begin to claim every part of you for themselves.

꒰ TABLE OF CONTENTS ꒱ ✶⋆.˚ ⌕

ⓘ one ⸝⸝ your a dutiful princess sent to marry the barbarian dragon king of the scarlet region for the sake of an alliance, only to find yourself caught between your terrifying new husband and the fiercely loyal dragon hybrid who slowly becomes just as possessive of you as the king himself. ﹙18.8k﹚

ⓘ two ⸝⸝ coming soon !

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more coming soon !

© 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘-𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 (　　𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽　　) all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, rewrite, or feed my work to ai. translations and inspirations are allowed only with prior permission and proper credit afterwards.

[tteokdoroki]

🛞 TO BECOME A FATHER  ✩  katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 surprisingly, katsuki bakugou is pretty good with kids. they like the colours of costume and the funny faces he makes when he’s mad. what’s even more surprising, is the single mother he falls for and the little girl that quickly becomes his whole world. (8.3K)

🏁 safety car ! ⋆ safe for work ⋆ fluff ⋆ eighteen plus only. pro hero au, characters are depicted as adults. strangers to lovers, single parents, found family, mentions of drinking, child getting lost in large crowd, reader has a named daughter, katsuki referred to as dad. pro hero katsuki bakugou, single mum & fem reader.

🏁  team radio ! ⋆ happy birthday to everyone’s favourite explosive boy. i’m so happy i managed to get something out for him this year, even if it’s pure fluff, love you sm sm kacchan!! hope you all enjoy and click for more. 

── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2026.

katsuki bakugou is surprisingly good with kids. 

whether he liked it or not, tiny and little humans had some kind of affiliation for him — neither deterred or discouraged by the hero’s  hardened exterior and the rough scars stretching across his face, up his jawline. no, more than anything, children looked up to him — saw someone they wanted to be, someone who kept them safe, someone they admired. 

dynamight to most children these days is what all might was to katsuki back then. some kind of symbol, some kind of path and footsteps to follow. 

in actuality, he doesn’t mind it. when the little ones of his friends and ex classmates clamber all over him, tug at his hero costume, play with his gear or call him ‘uncle kacchan’ whenever he comes over. he likes it, secretly, being someone they can look up to and someone who can look out for them in the way so many of his teachers and mentors did. katsuki bakugou, whether he’s willing to tell you the truth or not, has a soft spot for the innocence children bring to an oftentimes cold, cruel world. their laughter like sun on his skin and their smiles like a warm hug to the heart. 

so, when katsuki is flushed in the face and stumbling over his words at the class 1-A weekly get-together — hard liquor sloshing over the rim of the glass he’s barely holding in a late-night bar after patrol, chest warm and ruby eyes sparkling… no one is really surprised by his accidental slip up. the one in which he blabbers on and on about single mother he’s got a crush on. the very single, available, gorgeous ( katsuki’s own words, verbatim, mind you ) single-mother working at the front desk and in the receptionist department of izuku’s agency. of all places.

“she’s gonna me mine, ‘m damn sure if it. even that damned kid.” at the time he’d confessed it like it was a promise, swore up and down and to the stars that he’d have you — hardly deterred by the fact that you had a child, a whole life before him full of firsts you’d already completed. bakugou’s friends didn’t laugh even if he’d slurred and slumped over after knocking back the rest of his drink — they knew he meant it, they were happy for him because love hadn’t come easy to katsuki before. easy hasn’t come easy to him before. 

… and low and behold, everything with you, was like that. easy. like the drop of a hat. unlike troubled waters. from the day he met you at his childhood best friend’s agency — all the way until now. 

katsuki had noticed you randomly one morning. walking into that idiot deku’s agency to discuss strategy for an after school training session  the teacher had offered up to his students on kacchan’s behalf. it didn’t help that the blonde was already antsy, exhausted from paparazzi — he’d have made less of a fool of himself then. after making it through security, breezing through the lobby like he owned the place, bakugou is stopped by a slight and additional weight on his heavy orange-studded combat boots. he’d paused, all six foot something of his hulking frame taking up space in the bustling lobby, and then lifted his foot. 

thus, coming eye to eye with a kid no older than three or four — the type with an adorable little nose (thankfully clean of boogers) and bright eyes that practically reflect the fluorescent lights above. 

she’d beamed up at him then, chubby cheek perched upon the bend in his knee — unassuming, unaware of social cues, adoring him like he’s not capable of deadly things. her head tilted, smile widened to show the gaps in her baby teeth before whispering words that melted katsuki’s heart from innocence. 

“i like your boots. orange is my favourite colour!” 

his entire body had smiled with her. filled with a warm fuzzy feeling, akin to the flickering amber of a flame — extending from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. katsuki remembers it well, unfamiliar with the tight pull of his lips into a genuine grin. “yeah?” he’d laughed, a hybrid mix of amusement and surprise stretching through the sound, before prying the little girl from his knee and settling her safe on her feet so he could stoop properly to her level. “what’s your name, hah?”

“akari, momma calls me kari!” akari introduced herself with a practiced politeness that had surprised him at the time. a three year old runt with better manners he’d ever had.

tilting his head, bakugou then asked. “you lost, kid?”

“nuhuh. momma’s commin’,” she shook her head once, followed by the bounce of her curls very much stolen from someone else. someone who loved her too much and took care of her with every corner of their beating heart. heels click against the marble floor and accompanied by a shrill shriek — a mother’s voice only heard once reunited with their child, bakugou knew that voice all too well. his mother was the same.

protective. fearful. worried.

and then there you were, a vision coming straight into his ruby lined view — bounding up behind the child the pro hero bow crouched before.

you were picture perfect in your corporate-esque pencil skirt and matching blazer — shiny curls and locks pulled back into the a professional style perfectly suiting your hair type, not a part of you out of place… except for your frazzled expression and the wild look swirling in your eyes, panicked for your child. “i am so sorry,” you’d gotten out in a rush of syllables and letters that sounded all too pretty coming from you. a complete ( entirely too stunning ) stranger. “kari baby, i thought we agreed that you’d wait behind the desk until momma could take lunch. then you’d hang out with izuku—”

that had caught the explosive hero’s attention, head snapping up to the child in order to look for similarities and compare them to his old friend. “she his?”

there wasn’t any malice, only curiosity and a twinge of jealousy that hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. people always talked, always asked — curious as to why someone your age and so young already had a three year old toddler in tow. perhaps you were paid off to keep hush about a celebrity affair, maybe you were married fresh out of university and widowed. however, this would have been the first time somebody had asked about akari’s father and looked like they’d wanted it to be them. 

“oh no,” waving a hand — you’d seemed bashful at the time, though bakugou couldn’t the lines of love etched into your features as you looked down at your daughter even then. “she’s all mine, i like to think. all the best parts of me that i need to keep safe, all the parts of me that i wish someone else had protected,” it was more than the answer that he expected, and somehow just what katsuki needed to hear — to know that not only were you single; but someone who loved others oh-so dearly and with their whole entire soul. too good for the world and  anything in it. “did you need to see him? izuku? he’s uh—in a meeting right now, free in an hour… i can ring you up—?” 

your words became spaced out between the way you’d bounced your baby girl on your hip and sashayed your way back to the front desk to book bakugou in — your eyes only finding his, albeit shyly, once you were safely behind the thick oak and computer systems that groaned to life after getting back online, ready to take his details.

bakugou took one look at you in that moment, squirming under his fiery gaze and then shifted his line of sight over to your baby — all happy and smiles, despite being stuck at work with her momma. bakugou thinks, really, just for a moment. if he does this, there’s no going back or being normal — there’s a mother and a child on the line… but he can’t deny the skip in his heart, one he hasn’t felt since the damn thing kickstarted after his death, he gets just from looking at you, being in your presence.

he wants to live without regret, remember than in his line of work every day could be his last so there’s no point in holding back. when you shift awkwardly, raising a brow under the suspicious looks from your coworkers — katsuki catches on, leaning his forearms against the desk politely and subtly flirtatiously. 

“hold that thought,” he breathed, exhaling his nerves. “how about, you give me your number first ‘n then ring me up to that nerd — i-i mean, izuku?” 

despite the low blow at your boss, you couldn’t help but flash him a flirtatious grin — endeared by the blush blasted across the brave hero’s hardened features. it’s only when you’re scribbling down your digits for him on a post-it that katsuki realises his success. 

and from there, the rest is history.

it starts slowly.

bakugou making a home for himself in the outer shell of your mundane life. he paints the walls of said home, your daily routine, with colours of amber and orange and happiness in the form of your daughter’s soft giggles and date nights that make you feel like a proper human adult again — outside of your role as a mother and a matriarch. 

that day at deku’s agency, he’d taken your phone number and then taken a crack at your carefully guarded heart, peeling back its paper mache layers and all, the ones that stop you from falling apart after the bullshit akari’s biological father put you through. the blonde pro hero promised to take care of it, of you, over wine after hours on your terms and at your place, never his, because you have a little human to take care of and katsuki could never question that. he makes a promise to commit to your little girl, not just you — not replace the place of her father but be someone the two of you can lean on when you really need it, when you feel like asking.

so there had been dates for two only ever when you had the time in your busy schedule for katsuki and sometimes dates for three when your parents were too tired in their older age for childcare and the sitters all fell through. katsuki bakugou, known for thinking fast and being sharp on his feet, always adjusted the plans he'd made to fit three. 

fancy dinners catered to spoil you turned to lord dynamight in your kitchen after a late shift and a school run — making spaghetti bolognese with hidden veggies to get your daughter to have her five a day. romantic weekend getaways turned into road trips that included an educational outing to a museum or the aquarium — scrapped knees hanging over katsuki’s shoulders, new and matching keychains from the gift shop clipped to his car keys and her little backpack whilst the two wore twinning caps to cover their faces. identified hidden away from the paparazzi just for a weekend. shopping sprees where you’d end up draped in luxury morphed into grocery store runs on a sunday — narrowly dodging press and cameras as katsuki battled with your baby girl over which cereal was best for her growing teeth and bones.

it didn’t matter what he wanted to do with you or when he wanted to do it — if you needed it, your daughter fit right in too. 

as time went on, your clothes and her shoes ended up in all four corners of his place. two extra toothbrushes alongside his, unicorn themed toys and fairy princess tea sets dotting sleek black furniture which sort of needed to be baby proofed? 

in turn and as some form of wholesome payback —  you made a home out of katsuki’s actual home.  brought him a warmth not even his quirk could provide, and he was happy. just you three turning into this domesticated version of a family he never quite thought he’d deserved. it felt like you were becoming a unit, especially after meeting his parents — your angel akari dressed to the nines in the sweetest little dress and you dolled up so nice the man could barely keep a straight face as his mother gave you the once over. there were two extra places set at the dining table from then on, one for you and one for your daughter. courtesy of mitsuri, who loved you both oh so much.

then one day, everything sort of…shifts.

throughout your relationship and to your daughter, bakugou was known as ‘momma’s hero friend’ or ‘mister dynamight’ on occasion. even if you’d talked about it extensively, late nights curled up under blankets whilst conversations of the future hang in the air, you’d laid down the law and let katsuki know the reality of fatherhood. you weren’t looking for a replacement and certainly not for someone who’d tear your daughter’s heart in two when worse came to worse. he knew that, he accepted it right away.

because he never wanted anything more in his life. all the parts and pieces of you, he wanted to keep to himself — even the little ones with minds of their own like akari. katsuki bakugou wanted all of it. the tears, the laughter, the anger. it would be his to keep, so help him. 

so, your daughter knew that katsuki was something precious to her momma just like she was. that you kissed sometimes and held hands like other parents, she enjoyed it. innocent in her happiness for her mother, believing in a childlike way that there would be a fairytale ending in which her mother would get her handsome prince in the form of her favourite hero. 

having him around meant more smiles, staying up past bed time and sometimes sweet treats before dinner if she could convince him hard enough. it meant being picked up from school in the coolest car on the block and getting to brag to friends about how many pro heroes come over for dinner on a wednesday night ‘cause that’s when momma makes pizza. 

having dynamight in her life meant you were happy, brighter than when it was just the two of you and in some child-like way — she recognised that. kids are smarter than adults give them credit for. 

akari tells katsuki that she likes him, one night when he’s staying over and able to tuck her in. she asks him to stay forever in the middle of reading a bedtime story from school. peace at last, it’s called.

katsuki kisses her head as he turns the page; a silent promise. he doesn’t trust his voice to speak as the warbled vowels and consonants cause an ache in his throat. 

convention season rolls around at the end of the school year, like a step into the summer break that calls for fun, family and free time. naturally, work never slows for your explosive pro hero boyfriend — petty crime picks up under the blistering warm of japan’s sun, burning the backs of necks and kissing cheeks until they’re rosy with heat stroke. yet, between stolen bikes and ice pops from elderly vendors on street corners — katsuki makes time for your makeshift unit of three, he holds the towels and the blue cooler filled with crunchy ice chips when he’s got time off to visit the beach and he takes your daughter to swim class at the outdoor pool on weekends to keep up with her lessons. even at work, there’s space for you two. 

bakugou gets you tickets to nearly every one of the annual conventions, hero or comic con, that he’s forced to sit at — do panels and press junkets and fan meets for. in the weeks leading up, where he stays at your place instead of his and takes refuge in the blanket fort he’d spent hours constructing with your baby ( now passed out amongst stuffed animals and fairy lights ), the blonde tells you he’s not cut out for the work that goes into being a pro hero. the social side. the smiles and the cameras and the encouraging messages to strangers with struggles a little different from his. 

you smile, jamming a thumb into the crease between his brows and circle it teasingly. “careful.  you’ll get wrinkles, hot shot,” you hum, turning on your side and curling into the beat of his heart. “what if we come with you? a familiar set of faces in the crowd… i’m sure kari would love to see you in action too…”

it doesn’t take much convincing, not with the way you’ve taken to drawing little shapes on katsuki’s broad chest — smiling softly to yourself like you, like your daughter, don’t already own every inch of him. he’s yours, as much as the both of you are his. no need for words or papers to promise it.

baby’s first time at one of your boyfriend’s conventions is full of endless chatter, big spending mini managing. she pleads with him to purchase something from nearly every stall in artists alley, pinning princess luna badges and littlest pet shop stickers to the gruff, grumpy hero’s edgy costume. she delegates which prints get signed and in what colour sharpies at katsuki’s autographing booth ( most in pink glitter, some in orange or red ) and then grows brave enough to ask a question into the mic when it’s time for the two o’clock hero panels. 

by your third, she’s already an expert at con crunching — demanding that she cosplay all versions of lord dynamight’s hero costume so they can match in every photo. by your fifth that summer, things go awry. 

the air is sticky in the way that’s unpleasant — like the residue of candy smeared across your hands, stuck to the groves in your fingerprints despite how much you try to wash it off. it’s the kind of heat that clings to the tightest parts of your outfit, makes your entire body flush with sweat despite it hanging in the atmosphere. there’s too many people around, fit together like sardines in a tinned can, and bakugou’s little family has grown weary from the day — the walking, the talking with fans and endless ‘s’cuse me’s and sorry’s that come with being in such an enclosed space.

the real icing on the cake, is when your job calls in with an emergency request half way through the fun.

“izuku’s assistant called out today, the convention flu is what they’re calling it,” you say with a smile that seems to fray at the edges — tugged upwards by fine strings of parenthood and exhaustion. a mini lord explosion murder dynamight sits hungry and second away from a tantrum on your hip. “i think he’ll need my help at his booth, he’s no good at conventions on his own.” 

“want me to take her?” he nods down at the fussy baby on your arm.

“no, you’re working, kats. i.. we don’t want to be a bother.”

you’re not. you wouldn’t be. it’d be my honour. he wants to say, but the worry lines on your pretty face tell him not to argue or make a scene — he doesn’t want to cause further upset. “then my sidekick’ll take her. she’ll be safe all afternoon. we’ll get her some food ‘n somethin’ shiny to occupy her, then we’ll be all good till deku lets you go. yeah?”

he leans in, pinching the chub of your baby girl’s cheek with such fondness you could mistake him for her father  — she whimpers, stomach eating her little insides but keens into his touch like she trusts him. “‘suki, ‘m hungry!”

“i know aka-chan, we’ll getcha somethin’ soon.” 

you look between the two and then the assistant who looks like he’s about to shit his pants. “i-i’m good with kids! i have little sisters!” his stutter makes you wince but you’re at your wits end, on a time crunch before the fuse on your little one’s appetite explodes. 

“okay,” you nod once but still unsure as you move into setting her on her feet before you — hugging her close to your legs. you’re trying to be better, at trusting and letting him help. after all, your baby, your akari might even trust him a little more than you. katsuki gets it, he’s never fought you on your decisions as a parent — since aka-chan is yours and the most precious thing you have. but this time, you’re letting go and giving into him, letting another piece of your heart drift to him over an open sea like he’s offered you a life line. 

you take it, firmly. “just…” you look up at his sidekick. “she’s got no allergies, but she’s sensitive to lactose. she’ll fight you on it, ‘cause she’s funny about her veggies but mae sure she eats them,” you instruct, strict. “her money is in the inside pocket of her backpack… she’s got a limit on how many toys she can get today but more art is fine and—“

“we’ve got it, right kiddo?” katsuki assures you, swooping down to be eye level with your grumpy baby. “you’re gonna be good while momma works, yeah? that idiot’s gonna get ya some food, take you to artist alley and then we’ll meet back here for my panel. how’s that sound?” 

“i am?” 

“you are. that’s what i just said, ain’t it?” your boyfriend bites his tongue. careful of cursing in front of a child. it’s cute that he does that.

akari toes the floor with her light up sneakers as if she’s tossing up her options — such a big decision for her age. eventually, the growling in her little belly out weighs the need to cling onto you and she topples into katsuki’s grip like it's home. “sounds good,” she looks up at you, pleading with puppy dog eyes to rival your own. “wanna go now momma.” 

“okay sweet girl,” you relent, brushing back her wild curls with tender affection. “be so good while i’m gone. you know what to do if somethin’ happens?” 

“look for suki or you ‘n scream as loud as i can!” she rolls up her sleeves, revealing his number written underneath yours on her arm. the sight makes bakugou’s weary heart clench at the inclusion. another little piece of your heart that you’re breaking and passing to him willingly. “ask an… n’dult to call you if i get lost.” 

you crouch on her other side — kissing her warm chubby cheek. “good girl, i’ll see you soon. i love you so much.” 

“love you more!” 

for an hour and a half you trust katsuki’s assistant with your daughter while the two of you work. the thought of her never leaves your mind, but you let yourself believe that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. until a very panicked sidekick calls you, terror streaked throughout the water colours of his voice, crackled and broken over the static of the con crowd. 

“m-mrs dynamight — i-i’m so sorry. i— shit, i turned my back for just a second to talk to and…aka-chan. i’m so sorry. i lost her.” 

in that moment, you hardly register the slip up on your name. the implication of being seen as katsuki’s missus rather than his long term girlfriend. his partner. it’s the farthest thing from your mind, especially with the most precious thing in the world to you… missing. all the cells and plasma that make up your blood run cold, icy enough the blue your lips and freeze you in place and time. the art of breathing becomes difficult,  staggered enough to deprive your heart and lungs all of all the oxygen that you need — it dizzies you so badly that you have to step away from the ebb and flow of izuku’s photo-op station. 

he doesn’t say anything aside from asking about your wellbeing with gentle forest eyes and brows twitched upwards. like a good man, he doesn’t question it when you say you need to go. now.

at first, katsuki pays no mind to his phone as it buzzes once in the middle of his panel — once upon a time you’d scolded him to hell and back about keeping it on silent all of the time, worrying sick about his safety after villain chases on TV. he learned is lesson since, and, usually, it’s nothing. 

a text about his day, a follow on instagram , the latest hero rankings and — sure, his sidekick was a little late to meeting up with him for the panel. and, yeah, you were still unfortunately wrapped up in business with your boss but katsuki believed it to be all under control. that his family unit was safe and sound. however, when his phone buzzes again half way through a question from a very nervous red-riot fan two seconds away from passing out — the blonde pauses, pushes through his answer with a curt politeness not even the head of PR could pull from between his perfect pearly white teeth and then lets his friends lead on the discussion, stories of their uprising to heroes and who’s got the best suit.

useless, pointless, fan-fanatic bullshit that doesn’t matter — not right now, not when vermillion eyes are laced with sheer terror and a level of panic katsuki hasn’t felt since dying bursts painfully through his lungs. 

YOU: akari’s gone. your sidekick said she’s missing.

YOU: have you seen her? is she with you? 

YOU: maybe she went back to the panel ??

YOU: kats… i can’t find her

suddenly the room feels too big, there are too many cracks and crevices in which a little girl could get lost. stray hands, suspicious snarls flash behind his eyes — anything could happen to her, especially in a place like this full of people with both good and bad intentions. conventions are loud, busy and overwhelming even to the most sturdy of adults, let alone a girl just barely over three feet. 

discreetly, he pings you a message. he’ll take care of it, if you, the little girl his heart was already falling in love with and willing to keep as his own. the pro hero fires another one off to his agent across the room — catching her clipped demeanour slip for just a second, brief fear flickering across stone cold polished features before she pieces herself back together. she leaves the panel area, swiftly conducting her own search. 

everyone is scared of a missing child, everyone automatically assumes the worst… but for katsuki bakugou he feels so much more intensely. he knows you; how you can barely stand to be separated from your daughter for more than a mere moment — after all, you are the only person who pulled herself apart to deliver such a sweet baby into the world. the only one who suffered through late night feeding and the terrible teething tantrums. through and through, you are that girl’s mother and he, a person you trusted to keep akari safe. 

it’s taken you a lot to open up to bakugou, let him bear the brunt of parenthood alongside you after facing it all on your own for so long. and now, the culmination of your life’s work and love has disappeared within an instant — no thanks to him. 

his heart races like he’s lost something of his own, nausea curling around the tangled organs in his stomach — twisting his thoughts into the worst possible outcomes. katsuki, for the first time since dying in his late teens, is terrified. questions without answers, ones where his brain confuses reality with the cruel diction of his mind start to filter through — is she hurt? is she sick? did someone take her? 

the blonde must have visibly paled, all colour from his golden skin and dangerously vibrant red eyes has drained away as though someone has sucked the colour from live film, because kirishima nudges him — smile weak, barely there and suddenly the typically explosive number two hero is all too aware of the bright lights and phone screens and mics and curious eyes all laser focused on him. 

“you okay, blasty?” the red head whispers, drawing his mic away from his sharp-toothed mouth.

bakugou blinks once, twice — pulse erratic beneath his skin. he needs to go, needs to find her now. “what?” he snaps, without meaning to be vicious. “huh?”

“it’s your question, dude…” kaminari speaks this time, tone etched with worry, from katsuki’s left. 

everyone is watching, waiting, preying on his next move and all he can think about is the thought of your baby — hell, his baby, scared and alone and possibly with someone else. someone dangerous. the brutish pro’s gaze scans the room, picking apart hair colours and face shapes trying to identify the kid and even flickers momentarily to his agent, who only offers him a frightening frown. no luck. fuck.

lifting his mic apologetically, mask suddenly too tight around his eyes and hero costume sticky against his scarred skin, katsuki takes a deep breath to steel his nerves. calm himself before the real pressure hits. 

“listen guys, fuck, i think i gotta—”

“daddy!”

before he can even think of what to say, how to apologise for ditching a panel to search for a kid that isn’t even biologically his — the little girl he’s so desperate to find barrels through the left lane of chairs that form his audience. akari’s sweet brown eyes are wet with enough tears to make up the volume of water in her teeny tiny body and her voice is shrill from crying. she runs past fans patiently waiting to ask questions to their faves, but bakugou can hardly care less — he matches her pace, stumbling from his seat down to the bottom of the stage where he scoops the tiny toddler into his burly arms. 

cameras click, the crowd coos but all he can focus is the little girl quivering in his hold — her tiny fingers curling into the latex of his costume bound to all of his muscles, softening the embrace. “hey, hey. you’re okay,” bakugou mumbles against her hairline, hugging the back of her head to keep her close. “what happened, baby? y’get lost?”

she nods her head babyish as though she’s afraid of getting scolded and tucks her face further into his strong neck. “did everythin’ you ‘n momma said, stayed put a-and asked n’dult for help!” the tighter he squeezes her, the more akari relaxes — her hiccuped sobs retreating into small shaky sniffles.   “showed ‘em your number on my arm n said my daddy was doin’ a play here. they helped me find you.” 

katsuki doesn’t care about the snot on his clothes or the tears seeping through to his skin — the adrenaline stops him from focusing on it, heart racing faster than it would during any fight or patrol, only slowing once he’s got her safe and sound. 

“that’s good, bug, did such a good job.” he smiles softly, dazed and dizzy by her safe return and maybe the fact that she’s called him dad. twice.

little fingers and tiny hands gesture towards the two starstruck teens dressed, funnily enough, as bakugou and deku. he gives them a wave, makes a mental note to sign their shit later and get a photo. he’ll kill his sidekick afterwards. “did so good, aka, betcha mom’s worried sick.”

she makes a hybrid sound, half way between a whine and a groan — flinging little chubby arms around his neck as if they could get any closer than they already were. bakugou hums then, shoots a nod to his agent and hauls the little girl up to sit on his hip comfortably. as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if a toddler who no one knew about hasn’t just screamed ‘dad’ and cried his name, the blonde breezes back up to the stage and resumes the panel — seating your daughter in his lap and whilst the audience ooo’s and aww’s at her adlibs between questions.

she is a professional hero too, after all. 

eijirou entertains big brown eyes and a fidgety toddler with his hardening quirk between questions, denki creates static in soft tendrils of hair which makes akari look a little bit more like bakugou. she paws at the mic to tell fans that their costumes are so cool and overall, her mood improves… because to her, katsuki is safe just like mom is. he’s home. someone she can trust. 

he texts you an update, large palms curling around akari’s tummy to keep her sturdy.

KATS: stand down momma.

KATS: found akari, kid came to me all on her own.

KATS: meet us at the panel?

it’s not until one of the jittery teens who just so happened to rescue the baby girl bundled up in lord dynamight’s arms, that his attention ticks — gratefulness carved into his features, spread across this absentminded smile, pulling at thick sunny blonde brows. katsuki holds her a little tighter now, jogging his knee up and down to keep her soothed whilst she sits across his thighs, now playing with a pen someone had handed to her.

“has anyone ever saved you? like… the way you save other people?”

the question drops like a flare in the night and while the other pro heroes answer both light and airy with their words — katsuki can’t help but mull it all over. has he been saved before? yes. more times than he can count and whether he wanted it or not. there have been a myriad of instances where someone, somehow has kept him alive with just words or a thoughtful gesture even when he didn’t deserve it. 

but he knows now, that no matter what he’s done or said in the past — his life matters. his existence has been earned and he’s repented for his mistakes. if katsuki hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here. with you, with akari, with his friends right alongside him chatting away about the superficial things with the people who keep his career steady and stable. in a way, you saved him, akari saved him — the realisation is as sweet as honey on his tongue because…

“yes,” katsuki answers without holding back, as if speaking his feelings is as easy as breathing in an icy gust of fresh country air. “y’know, sometimes, bein’ a hero — you forget to take care of yourself. s’all adrenaline and beating down the bad guys, but you don’t care what happens to you or your body in the process. just makin’ sure that everyone else is okay.” 

the blonde hero starts, occasionally poking the corner of his mouth with his tongue — deliberating on what to say next, what parts of his heart to share with the world where he’s usually so private. “but then there’s my kid ‘n my girlfriend. they care about the little bits of me that look invincible to everyone else, my little girl,” bakugou, despite holding the mic to his lips, presses them against the softness of akari’s hairline like he’s grounding himself. “she’ll ask me why ‘m so beat up ‘n bruised. play pretend doctor when ‘m over at her mom’s until she’s able to properly patch me up.” 

“having a family like this, blood or not, reminds me to take care of myself even while i’m doing my job.” something stirs in the distance, behind the crowd of convention-goers stacked up after rows of filled seats. “i started bein’ smarter during fights, gentler with the ones i know can go down easy. started thinking before jumping into it.” it’s just a little commotion. small, yet, urgent enough to catch the eye of the fabled explosive pro hero. he feels himself sit a little straighter, voice much more sure than before because through a sea of people — katsuki’s love lined ruby eyes find yours. a little frantic with motherly fear, a little glassy as if you’d been listening to him speak this whole time. “you know, taking care of myself for the people who care about every bit of me.”

then you’re melting on the spot, all the tension in your shoulders eases and turns into pure relief once you spot your baby wriggling about on the edge of bakugou’s lap as if she’d always belonged there and been a part of him. “so when i say, yes, i’ve been saved. i don’t mean in the physical way,” the hero ends his speech with a small nod your way, all of his heart entirely yours — signed off to you like his name has been printed on a contract. “i mean in the way that family can, that being loved can.” 

at first, the audience is quiet — not in a way that’s awkward or pained, but the type of silence that makes you think. drink in the moment and appreciate what you’ve been given. although the air tingles with warmth, the subtle scent of love mingling with every quiet break taken — there’s some kind of emotive tension that thickens the atmosphere. in that silence, that tension, that quiet — katsuki finds you again. endeared and amused by the tears that threaten to spill over the apples of your cheeks, the acceptance on your face and the trust that underpins it. 

as if you hadn’t already known before, you know now that you can trust katsuki bakugou with the most precious thing you have.

off to the side, kaminari’s fond, amused laughter echoes through the mic and sends a warm vibration through the valves in your heart. “woah, dude, didn’t know you could be such a sap!” he jokes lightly, alleviating the weight in the room, though it’s not unwelcome.

“it’s not sap, i’m just being honest about real shit!” the lighter blonde retaliates with no malice behind his tone — everyone around him chuffs, entertained by the back and forth between two long time friends and amplified by a tiny hand slapping against his slightly stubbled cheek. the conventions have been busy, you like his peach fuzz but prefer when he shaves — only reminded by akari rubbing her little mitts over the gentle beginnings of a beard.

“thas’ a bad word, daddy. no swearin’!” 

it’s not until later that evening that everything hits katsuki all at once.

you’re in his bathroom, the one he doesn’t share with the three year old snoozing down the hall — brushing your teeth, face mask on, while his shirt hangs loose on your frame, swallowing you up because it’s however many sizes too big. he’s stepped back to give you some space, it’s been a long time since he learned not to mess with your night time routine — but katsuki’s grateful, it gives him a second to admire you, watch you move through his space as though you’ve always been there. in that moment, you look like home and everything he fights to come back to. in that instance, you feel like his family that he can’t see himself living without. 

bakugou pushes off the tiled wall he’s been leaning on, the surface cold in comparison to your heated skin as he wraps sturdy arms around you from behind. the sight in the mirror above the bathroom sink is one of domesticity, a head full of fluffy straw blonde hair tucked carefully into the junction between your neck and shoulders, a hulking man curled around you like he can’t get enough and his large, hands full of so much power, danger and love settled onto your soft stomach. it’s home. its safe. 

you don’t say a word but your body does the talking, sinking back into bakugou like you trust him to catch you if you fall. he moves with you, letting you finish off with your electric toothbrush — killing the buzz once you’re done with it before you swipe away the rest of your face mask. content to work in your arms. 

slightly chapped lips graze the base of your throat, heated and careful — the ghost of everything he wants to say pressed into your skin. 

calm stillness lingers between you both, your breathing syncs and you lean into one another because it’s been… a day. a day where the two of you have learned to give and trust in order to protect something you mutually love. you don’t push, you wait for the thoughts that turn to phrases into katsuki’s mind and only reach back to rake your fingertips through his sun-kissed hair, soothing his mind where it can’t catch up enough to let him talk. 

“she called me dad,” bakugou’s voice is gravelly, thick with emotion when he decides he trusts himself enough to speak. “not just once…like three fuckin’ times and i know what that means. how heavy that is. won’t ever ask her to say it again unless she wants to but i—”

he’s rambling, he knows that — he’s not the type to lose his cool. it’s taken him years of trust and battle scars to let other people see the sides of him that are vulnerable and weak and care so damn much. yet, with you, it all comes too easy. as natural as a heart beat or filling your chest and lungs with  oxygen.

in the mirror, katsuki catches the soft twitch of your lips up into an adoring smile — as though you’ve realised something about him, this. he goes onto say. “she called me dad and i… well, shit. i liked it. i loved it,” he hums against your neck, kissing in an attempt to hide his shyness in your baby hair. “and i swear, ‘m not talking shit. she’s your kid and i love her and i know what this means…but if you’re okay with it, if you want me to. i’ll step up, prove myself as someone she can call a father.”

“oh, katsuki…” 

turning in his arms, you can’t help but sniffle — taking his face between shaky hands and cupping his cheeks. for three years, you’ve done this all on your own. the late nights full of tears, the toddler temper tantrums and early mornings before school. toys scattered under your feet, styling hair where your mother never quite properly taught you how to do your own. you’ve braved it all by yourself, hardly ever asking for help and here, now, comes this brilliantly stubborn man who’s all rough around the edges and hardly cookie cutter ready to help you through it all. 

he wants to be a father, he wants to help you raise your little girl you’ve broken every part of you to protect. katsuki wants you to let him in for good, and your daughter does too. 

he sees your eyes start to twinkle with tears once more and that’s when katsuki laughs. quiet, breathy, fond. his scarred fingers sink from your waist to your ass, lifting you up until you’re able to wrap your legs around his hips. 

“you’ll get dehydrated if you keep cryin’ today, sweetheart,” you don’t mind the way he talks to you, all gentle and slow like katsuki’s bringing you down from an overwhelming emotion before it drowns out your voice. it’s so tender, reassuring to know that he’s got you. both you and your baby. “‘m telling you now. i want this. i want her to be my kid, swear to god she might as well be. i love her, love you,” he rasps like it’s a promise — swearing to the invisible crown atop your head. 

you press your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut as you’re soothed by his confession. “today, when you said she was lost… i thought i’d die. don’t laugh at me! i did!” mushy gushy words dissolve into his deep, rumbling giggles that send a burst of warmth through your being — even if you’re a teary, emotional mess katsuki can still make you smile. “listen, i haven’t panicked that much since i was a kid. a stupid one who thought that i could handle the world,” bakugou sucks in a breath. you feel it coast warmly over your bottom lip. “i’ll do anything to never feel like that again, keep her close and safe ‘cause i feel like she’s mine.” 

“she is yours,” you say wetly, shaking your head of any tears that start to clump in your lashes. “she’s called you dad after all. you might as well be.” 

it’s a bashful ask, but it’s you finally opening up your heart and tearing your walls down — you’re letting katsuki be akari’s father figure if he wants to and he’d be a fool to say no. saying yes means more summers like this, more melted ice creams in the back of his expensive car and sticky fingers that cup his face until he makes silly expressions. saying yes means school pick ups and drop offs where bakugou catches akari bragging about how cool dad is. saying yes means seeing her grow, means birthdays and parties and sweet sixteens and maybe even boyfriends. or girlfriends. or partners. and stern talking to’s. ‘if you hurt my daughter — i’ll kill you’ kinda speeches.

katsuki never thought he’d say it, see it or get to experience it — but he can’t wait to learn and to grow with you. to become a father of exemplary to his own and those that reared him from the rough and unruly scrappy kid he was to the man adored by you and your child now.

whatever the future may bring, he wants it. he can’t wait for it. with the two of you close by his side. 

“and i’m hers. i’m all hers and all yours. got me wrapped around your fingers you do.” he promises quietly, the seriousness echoing into the thick of the night — really meaning his every word. 

you smile knowingly, teasingly and say. “we know.” 

with you still in his arms and a kiss chastely pressed against your salt streaked lips, katsuki pulls the string for the bathroom light and trudges back to the main bedroom, a buzz of excitement for the future hangs in the air — plans for a family, for a ring remain left unsaid.

but one thing that remains for certain, is that your daughter, sweet kari, will be included in all of them. as she had been before.

akari comes knocking when the moon is up high, barely slipping through the curtains as she pads bare foot into the bedroom katsuki shares with you tonight.

“daddy?”

usually you’d be awake and on it just from the sound of her little footsteps on the hardwood floor — jumping up in that way mums do where their eyes go wide and they pant like they’ve just been revived or come up for air. though tonight, you’re too exhausted to move, the fright from earlier on in the day and the struggle to wrestle akari down for bed has you more exhausted than you’ll ever let on. but katsuki knows you, he lets you sleep. taking this new duty on.

he stirs on instinct, call it fatherly, but his body moves without thinking — he sits up, throws his arms open despite the sleep caked to the corners of his eyes and welcomes your daughter, his daughter home. “hey princess,” bakugou coos, and, as if he’s handling a fine china doll, carefully lifts the baby girl into his lap — heart trilling happily when she snuggles into the molten center of his chest. “shouldn’t you be asleep? what’cha doin’ up?”

“wanted cuddles.” she yawns, head bobbing while she fights to stay up. her chubby cheek rests squarely against the blonde’s heartbeat, she’d never be able to tell it stopped once upon a time — not with the way it dully thuds against her teeny right ear. 

rhythmic like a lullaby.

katsuki nods once into the dark, tendrils of tiredness begging him to come back to bed. however, he was a child once upon a time — he too ( not that he’d ever admit it ) used to wake up in the dead of night searching for comfort. even in his teens. after he was kidnapped. after he died. she must be having bad dreams. he figures. probably from getting lost 

“you didn’t want any from momma?” the hero’s leg bounces, in the way he knows comforts akari — her little curls swaying with the rhythm. 

“mommy’s hands get cold.” she complains through another adorable yawn. “like your cuddles. y’warmer…”

bakugou grins at that, vermillion eyes dancing with so much love and adoration you might mistake the grumpy pro hero for someone else. he’d gone soft, he knew that, but anyone with two eyes and a brain could understand why. standing from the bed slowly, and now, shifting to stand by the window whilst bouncing a sleepy akari on his hip — he warms the palms of his hands with his quirk in an attempt to lull his baby girl back to dream land. “freezin’ aren’t they?” he whispers as he nuzzles the top of her head, gaze switching from the glittering city he protects, below — to the preciously perfect little one he now protects, in his arms. “s’okay bug, i’ll keep you warm then, right up until you fall asleep.” 

“promise?” 

“pinky,” the blonde confirms. “daddy’s gotcha.” 

“‘mkay…” kari somehow manages to get out, the syllables slipping away from her since she’s already drifting, fist curled into bakugou’s sleep shirt. “love you, daddy.” 

katsuki’s heart soars, the late night suddenly all too worth it. “love you too,” he murmurs softly, voice sweet like molten caramel as he rocks the little girl until her body relaxes with sleep. “to the moon and back, kid.” 

so yeah, katsuki bakugou always been good with kids, but with this one, he swears — he’ll be even better.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[petalsonmoon]

the three times you give each other peace.

wc: 7k.

notes: kind of based in peace by taylor swift. in this fic reader has anxiety. of a specific situation. it’s based on my experience but i don’t want to treat this matter lightly so feel free to warn or discuss any concerns with me. thank you for reading <3

english is not my first language so apologies.

♡

part 1: but I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

you really wish you’d outgrowned this by now.

you hear your name being called from the other side of the door and you lean against it. 

“we’re almost up!” tetsutetsu affirms softly. “i’ll come back when we’re done, okay?”

at this point you don’t feel ashamed anymore. tetsu has been your person for a year now. his friendship had the softness his quirk lacked.

when you don’t respond he continues “i’m not disappointed in you.”

“okay.” you let out with soft snicker.

“i heard that.”

“aren’t you late?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“please, go. i'm proud of everyone. you’re gonna be amazing.”

“do you understand that nobody is disappointed? i won’t leave until i’m certain you understood.” he says and his body leaning against the door is not a subtle sound. you take a deep breath.

“i’m okay.” you smile to yourself, feeling loved when you’re not really feeling deserving of it “and i understand. thank you.”

your response is sincere enough for you to hear his stance subtly getting ready to leave.

“you’re doing great.” his voice is as sweet as he can muster. you’re not sure you believe his words but you can feel he means them. “we’re proud of you! and i’ll be right back.”

he steps back and walks for a few seconds to deceive you that he wasn’t late but in seconds you can faintly hear him running.

you look around. you walk towards where the drums were supposed to be and sit on the floor there, back against the closest wall.

right now, your defeated breathing and relaxed but tense heart were more frustrated about the situation than the main issue of it all. you were in the 3nd year of the UA’s hero course. it shouldn’t be like that.

you’re mature enough to understand there’s nothing and no one to blame. you consider yourself a strong and secure person. since your first day here, you went out to find a way to have a private and open chat with present mic and he was so very considerate.

you explained how sometimes loud noises caused you to have a few anxiety crises. it didn’t happen much but sometimes you tried to deceive yourself when the situation escalated, not really wanting to admit you were having an attack. you're not proud of those moments.

but you want to become a hero so you want to be as clear and sincere as possible about this so it doesn’t affect your goals and your future.

not saying that noises in general are a problem for you but the whole ambient influences and the aggregation of noises is what set it off.

but you like to think that since the first day you’ve come a long and upright way.

you stayed in the music room for a while and felt your mind troubling. you feel a few tears falling down your face and you weren’t even feeling that sad but the disappointment in yourself was leaking from you.

you took a few deep breaths and tried to trick your brain's main focus.

this was your place of choice to calm yourself, not sure if it’s because of the sound isolation or it being the furthest from the arena where everything happens but it was a good place. a very nice room if you consider that barely anybody would be interested in music being in a hero course. no, that’s quite judgemental, don’t think like that. you’re here after all.

and it’s quite contradictory thinking when as soon as you finish your thought, the door slams open.

your eyes meet a pair of ferocious red dots and unintentionally you feel your whole body shiver. the fuck?

the boy stares at you for 5 full seconds before he starts to actually move. if he was even slightly surprised to see you there, his expression wasn't showing it. apart from the very much common furrowed eyebrows, he was blankly normal.

your gaze was glued on him as he walked towards you. he stops at the little drawer not far from you and gets something from the upper drawer as well as a coat that was hanging in the microphone stand nearby. you blink and he’s already at the door again, he slams it as he leaves and you flinch.

right, katsuki bakugo was supposed to play the drums today. it’s really interesting that he, a wild rabbit (as you named him, you know, because of the red eyes and not being very tall) in form of human, would be patient enough to learn how to play any instrument. you didn’t know much of the boy, being from class B yourself but your classes have done enough training together to understand that he doesn’t really like stillness, your class or people in general.

you stay perfectly seated there for a long time. the shame and resentment you were feeling, now it’s a snowball of sadness. you really wish you were brave as the kid you thought you’d be by now.

well, let’s not go down that path again. you wanted to become a hero and you will. you still had a year ahead of you and all you needed was a bit of bakugo’s fierceness in you. midoriya also seemed to be a very dedicated person and far more approachable...

when you hear your belly complaining you decide it’s time to face the consequences of your actions. and exactly when you move a single leg to get up, the door opens and bakugo is back and you freeze. he opened the door calmly like a normal person and perhaps that’s why you froze.

he’s not looking at you when he makes his way to the couch a few meters away, on your diagonal. he throws his body there like he’s exhausted and lays his head so he’s staring at the ceiling. and he just stays there.

you look around like you’re waiting for something in the room to indicate to you what to do next.

time passes and nothing happens so your body relaxes a tiny little bit.

drums are so cool, actually. we all know the drummer is the coolest in a band. if you could learn one instrument it’d be drums. maybe piano first cause they say that after learing piano everything is easier…

“we crushed your useless class today.” his rough and deep voice reverberates around the room.

anxiety fills you up for a slip of a second before you evict it out of your body. not exactly because of him but because of the possibility of him asking you that one question.

“i, too, you would brag about my skills with instruments if i couldn’t act for shit.” you retort softly.

his head moves and his eyes are on yours again.

“your plays are always shitty.”

“not what the crowd says.”

“it’s exactly what the crowd says.” his tone intends to finish the discussion. in his head, maybe.

“well, do you consider what the crowd usually says about you?”

he immediately squinted his powerful eyes, analyzing you. you look away like that would make his curiosity go away too.

“you guys are always great.” you continue, your tone off for those who knew you.

his furrowed eyebrows deepened and he shakes his head lightly.

“just say what you want to say.”

“you guys should change the genre once in a while. the sparkles and lights and glitter can only get you so far.” it’s out of you automatically.

he focus returns to the celling.

“it’s what i always tell those idiots.”

“why would they listen to the one that can explode the whole auditorium because of a fly, am i right?”

“don’t fuck with me, i follow their ideas every damn time.” he responds, in a rasp yet soft tone.

you start fidgeting with your rings. it’s a surprisingly peaceful feeling, this interaction. but there’s a question flying around you both. did he even notice you weren’t there? you’re probably thinking too much about yourself.

the worst of it all is that you’re dressed to go. your make up is nicely done. well, a bit blurred because of the tears but that added a charm, you think.

but it took a second for everything to seem impossible to achieve. so you just keep talking and not thinking.

“do you know how to play the piano?”

“no” he grunts.

“is there another instrument you’d like to learn?”

he drops his head to look at you again and it’s starting to feel familiar.

“no”

“yeah.” you look down at your hands “nothing like the drums.”

just keep talking. distract him and yourself.  

“is there a secret to not get nervous before going up the stage?” you ask without even noticing where this question is edging for.

“i’m here to be a hero.” his voice impossibly lower “a bunch of students are nothing.”

you chuckle lightly. “aren’t you just a student as well?”

“i don’t usually believe what the crowd says about me.”

you’re smiling faintly when you’re looking up again. “you don’t?”

“not a single fuck is given.”

you nod still smilling. he’s kinda funny.

but his gaze is very still.

“i remember last month’s training our classes did together. you ended yaoyorozu.” he says, low and calm and you chuckle.

“that’s a way to put it.”

“is there another way?”

“no.” you answer, suddenly feeling shy “it wasn’t easy, that’s all.”

“that’s what happened. you won.” his gaze is unrevealing and calm but is also a challenge.

“think i can take you?”

his face tells you nothing and you’d give money for what he’s thinking. “wanna try?” he says.

a giddiness fills you up. like the thrill of making new friends or the good kind of nervousness you feel before your friends sing you happy birthday. yet, you don’t have an opportunity to respond because someone opens the door.

“heyyyy” tetsu comes in with the biggest smile on his face and when you look at him it’s like all the heavy emotions in your body reawakens.

oh, no. he’s your friend. don’t feel that way. bad, bad heart.

“hi!” your voice shatters. and now you’re feeling the fake kind of giddiness. you didn’t even want to look at bakugo. “i was about to look for you.”

“bakugo!” tetsu acknowledges bakugo while you’re getting up and his response is silence. perhaps he's spending too much time with kirishima because that barely affects him, so he turns back to you. “we’re about to get some food. kendo wanted me to get you immediately.”

you smile at him. “okay. let’s go.”

“they definitely cheered louder for us today-" as tetsu leaves the area, that heavy but welcoming peace of whatever happened there hits you. you stop by the door before leaving and turn around to look at bakugo only to find his eyes already on you.

and with a neutral face and inoffensive tone you tell him.

“i can take you.”

not waiting for a response, you close the door behind you.

part 2: if your cascade, ocean wave blues come

and for the next 3 months, everything moved regularly slow.

you did your best in everything you put your strength in. you didn’t let the uncomfortable situation hold you back in getting better with present mic and, granted, the results were appearing in your other life subjects.

you always did great in the theoretical part of school, always willing to learn new things and you had a saying you created yourself that was: all books eventually catch one’s attention. sometimes you gotta go through hell before everything gets interesting.

and accordingly, you put your name on the 3rd spot in your class ranking.

you were proud of that.

in the span of those next months you trained with new faces. you made a good friendship with honenuki, growing to meeting each other after hours to not hold back in the sparing.

present mic said that was a good idea. train with someone you didn’t know well to get habituated with different kinds of noises in different ambients.

now, when it came to the exercises with class A, there were interesting surprises.

the first one, happened 3 weeks after your encounter with bakugo, and unfortunately your group didn’t include him.

and it’s not like you were looking for something here but that situation you both had left you curious about the boy. for the particular reason that when you were feeling frustrated and sad about yourself, his presence were a calming thought in that storm. someone so outrageous gave you a sense off easiness. 

like. that was perfectly normal, right?

he didn’t ask why you weren’t at the presentation and he didn’t underestimate you for that either. and that’s all you wanted. to not be and breathe peacefully because you were not being judged.

the second interesting event happened 4 weeks after that. in spite of aizawa’s enormous lack of effort and energy to deal with professor sekijiro, they decided to unify the classes for the day and let the students review and establish in pairs how to manage their quirks whilst working with an unfamiliar sidekick.

you were incapable of controlling your wide eyes the second bakugo walked to you with heavy steps and serious eyes. some colleagues also noticed the strange occurrence and that made you a little uneasy. but you handled like the mysterious and confident person you pretended to be with him that day.

you held his gaze but you couldn’t fucking stop the sweat it was forming in the back of your neck.

because honestly, nothing really changed between you two, only a few exchanged glaces in the cafeteria but that was it. and being even more honest, class A was annoyingly famous around the school so you couldn’t (and didn’t have the balls) to approach the angriest boy in the faculty out of nowhere.

since the task was to be a sidekick you didn’t have to fight against him or anything, so you just took a sip of water and went on with it with your head held high.

bakugo was a handful with capital H but a brilliant leader in a ferocious way, so it was a great activity.

and you could really sense that each time it was an activity outside of your comfort zone, you were feeling less and less overwhelmed with the noises. you were proud of that too.

the exercise took practically the whole day and when everyone was tiredly getting back to the dorms, he passed by you. the bastard didn’t even look at you when he rumbled.

“meet me in the gymnasium in two hours.”

by the time the phrase is understood by your brain, he’s already out of your sight.

but you already knew what it was going to happen. so, you quickly made your way to your dorm, took a slow shower and ate dinner while mentally preparing yourself.

what is this feeling?

excitement? nervousness? you tried not to look too closely at the tiny bit of giddiness also in there.

when the time came you made your way to the gymnasium, trying to make your heart and brain settle down and as you entered the place you saw bakugo himself with his back to you, stretching.

you’ve seen him with those black tanks tops out and about from afar innumerous times.

getting a closer look of his perfectly broad back and designed bíceps made your brain and heart finally agree in one certain feeling.

that’s enough. he’s here to purely beat your ass.

you walk towards him and put your bag on a bench nearby.

“took it to heart, i see.”

“no” he didn’t even look at you.

“you’re kinda easy to work with” you admit swiftly as you start to get ready too, taking your eyes off of him. “should make a great opponent as well.”

he grunts in response.

“if you go easy on me, i’ll walk.” you say.

and then you finally feel his eyes on you. “then don’t waste my time.”

and that’s how you had the most difficult practice of your entire life.

bakugo didn’t hold back and you had to think ridiculously fast to survive every single insanely fast strategies he came up with. but you did not hold back either and you’re very satisfied to say you put up with him for some good minutes before he won the match. the boy was almost number 1 of the entire school, you won’t minimize your efforts.

when it ended and you were on the ground breathing heavily, he walked to you and offered his hand. and without saying another word you two spared again. and again. and again.

and it took you some time to get used to his explosions so near you but you think you could maneuver your reactions when you actually focused on learning his movements and adapting yours to them. but you're not sure how he endures this loudness.

and he won every single time. but during fights you both were adjusting to how the other thought and moved. it was such an intense but pleasant experiment that you allowed yourself to comment to him your thoughts about his fighting, not criticising nor imposing but simply a different point of view.

and you think you worded everything greatly because his eyes weren’t showing you the usual amount of irritation and after a while he started to comment about you as well.

that was exactly 6 days ago.

right now, you were at the music room once again, sitting by the piano learning how to play twinkle twinkle little star through an app.

it was a choice you made after the festival and okay. not your proudest decision but it calmed you down when you needed to. school is not easy and having a hobby whilst wanting to become a hero is scarce nowadays.

it was an inoffensive little hobby.

you were thinking jingle bells was probably next.

you’ve been there for about 30 minutes when the door slammed open. they really needed to check it someday, people have not been gentle with it.

and you look up to find bakugo katsuki irradiating rage. it was clear he wanted to storm off to the couch he seated last time but to your unfortunate it was close to the piano and he stopped once he noticed you were in the room as well.

everything you knew about class A was from kirishima cause he and tetsu were strangely close. which is funny because he’s really close to bakugo too but you rarely talked to the blonde up until now.

well, you heard this week that class A had a very important evaluation today. the show-us-in-public-how-much-you-evolved-your-quirk-and-rescuing-people kind of evaluation. so this right now could be related to that information.

you tried to read in his expression if you’d be the target of whatever got him enraged but before you could analyze anything he simply moved again and angrily sat, closing his eyes.

his irritation tugged something in you. a bit of impotence. you had no idea how to help him and you’re certain that ask him how is the absolute last option.

so you did the most reasonable thing. you look down and continued to play the piano.

if it helped calm you down perhaps it did the same for him. the boy who smashed the drums. ha.

and for a fair 5 minutes that’s how you both stayed. once you thought you were beginning to understand how to differentiate the dozen of white sticks in front of you, you raise your head to find him in the exact position as before.

you don’t know him deeply but if you thought you did, you’d say the wrinkles around his eyes and the furrow between his brows seemed slightly softer.

“they say that after you learn how to play the piano, the other instruments are easier to master” you say almost whispering.

he shakes his head imperceptibly with his eyes still closed.

“fucking stupid.”

you play another verse of the one song you know on the piano before answering “i don’t think so.”

suddenly, you wish you could see how his smile is.

“i can teach you.” you continue.

“no.”

“you don’t trust me?”

he finally lowers his head and makes a face to you. a low and short grunt in response.

“oh no.” you shake your head “i thought we were past this. i swear i didn’t let you win when we trained. you won far and square, i promise.”

it was a single joke to lighten up his mood. you only intended to create a good and natural conversation but when you heard him snickering with a pinch of genuine laugh underneath it you wanted to make a few more jokes to keep hearing it.

“you’re a moron.”

“i thought we were past this too.”

“i’m gonna past you if you say that again.” his raspy but calm voice fills the room.

“i see you need a little more of twinkle twinkle little star in you.” you look down and start to play again with a surprising efficiency.

he exhales.

“okay.” you stop playing.

you look at him again and his eyes are you so you keep talking. “learned this one today.”

“congratulations.” very sincerely sarcastic of him.

“in half na hour. one note at a time” you add.

he grimaces and you smile.

“just saying.” you add. you pass your fingers through the piano keys threatening to actually force them. “do you consider yourself a good drummer?”

“i’m fucking great.”

you nod in response, agreeing.

he raises his eyebrows for a millisecond. “how’d you know?”

now, that’s the tricky part.

he doesn’t sound bitter or even rude. he’s completely neutral and you don’t know how to read this... dispute? audacity?

so he noticed you weren’t at the festival and you know what he’s asking you now and you’re not sure how to continue the conversation. or how to take that in general.

do you think you can handle how his view of you would probably change? if you’re comfortable enough to share, does it matter? and surprising even yourself, you think trust him to be honest without you getting hurt by his views.

“are we caring about what the crowd says now?” your voice is small.

“only the ones that don’t waste my time.” he replies just as carefully.

well.

that was not good for your heart.

“let’s say” you start “i’m here learning an instrument. it’s not very different from why you’re here today.”

his brows immediately furrow “i think it is-”

“did we not” bold move interrupting him. “learn these instruments for the same reason?”

“careful.”

“and honestly-“

“aren’t you a honest person.” it comes out rough of him.

“this” you gesture lazily to the room. “it’s working for me.”

he is genuinely paying attention to what you’re saying. you don’t wonder if it’s because he’s getting angrier or you’re an easy distraction.

“at least that’s what i’d like to believe. i’m 3rd place in my class and i’m getting better... with everything else.” anxiety, you mean.

he’s just staring and you keep going softly “you’re practically top 3 of the whole school. and that’s a lot of pressure, i’d be terrified."

“yeah?” he hums.

“uhum.” red is a fucking intimidating color to keep looking at. “even the most powerful person in school needs a little bit of ease. i hope this place helps you as it helps me...”

the last part comes out almost like a whisper. and you’re aware you’re talking too much but the boy already saw you sitting in a corner of this very room with ruined makeup. it doesn’t get worse or realer than that.

“we just need to work on our control.”

then even his aura changes. he carefully tilts his head, daring you to continue.

“we?”

“don’t get me wrong-” you add.

“oh.” he hiss. shit.

“what i’m saying is...” you hesitate and push aside any warning in your head. and your exploding heart. “i don’t know you well enough, and i don’t want to assume. how could i know you from other people's opinion?”

you can see him relaxing again. it’s very subtle. he’s not too guarded anymore, so you take that in consideration. you start playing jingle bells in the background of your head to motivate you.

“but i come here to calm my mind and if you’re just like me... then you’re probably losing control of your brain too.”

you look down to your fingers and your breathing stabilizes. if you truly think about it, you were acutely more nervous about the fact of letting what you’re feeling out of you than him blowing your head for what you said.

“are we psychoanalyzing each other?”

“no.” you shake your head “i just want you to enjoy twinkle twinkle little star with me.”

you want to look up but you’re scared.

a beat passes.

“you know what i think?”

he speaks and you look at him. he’s the softest he can be.

“that you are actually letting it control you.”

now, what the fuck.

you’re the one with the furrowing brows this time. okay. your secret is always pretend you’re confident and in the control of the situation.

“oh bakugo,” you smile a little “are we friends now?”

“for a honest person, you’re dodging a lot.”

goddammit. his answers are always so quick.

“alright.” you compromise “can we make na arrangement?”

“hm” that's all you got.

“every wednesday we train together after hours for a bit, that’ll help me” this part is very true “and in return i'll do my best to work wherever i can on whatever makes you almost break the poor door every time you feel the need to come here.”

he was sending you a gaze that could blow you into atoms in the blink of an eye but you see that he thinks before answering.

“i'm not holding anything back."

him going along with you in this was enough as it is. "i'm not expecting you too."

"and then what?"

"then we meet at christmas and whoever is better will get a prize."

you bite a laugh when he just looks at you. visibly forcing himself not to roll his eyes.

"like friends do." you add.

"i get it." he growls.

all of that leaves you with a sweet and fresh feeling. like when you're a little kid and you spend the day with your best friend of a week that is also your little crush but you don't know it's a crush cause you're too young and naive.

and that discovery doesn't ruin anything, cause you're a centered person. you're not expecting anything at all from this. having him as a friend is more than enough and you're grateful.

his phone seals the conversation when it starts to ring but stops after he even got out of his pocket.

"fucking hate when they do that." he mumbles.

you look down again, not letting your mind twist.

"when i win and meet you in a month." he breaks the silence very collectively as he starts getting up "i'll need you to be very honest with me, got it?"

your whole body hair did not just go up with that.

"careful, bakugo." you hope you sound as nonchalant as him.

he's already by the door when he answers you. "great. we have a deal."

he leaves closing the door. slaming it.

part 3: the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

katsuki is absurdly attentive. It’s a blessing and curse.

you two trained every wednesday night, for three months. that made too many nights of pain and a feeling you locked in a vault instead of actually feeling it.

you’re not very proud of how much you had to suppress yourself to focus on learning about fighting, strategies and agility and not about the way he was brutal yet methodical with the movements of his arms. how his blond hair was everywhere imitating his explosions in a tender and fierceful way.

bakugo were beautifully strong inside and out. 

some of the trainings he talked about your movements in such a genuine way that made you almost unlock that vault.

it was very clear he didn't take bullshit in any form. a hesitation from you and he would make it obvious you were unworthy of his efforts. if he notice you were holding back by any means he would strike twice as loud. he had a way to push you to your best that was enchanting.

until one day your whole class had to toil an ignorant mistake monoma made professor sekijiro. everybody had show the UA to some little kids throughout the afternoon. some agitated and boisterous little kids.

the punishment left you with a latent headache but mostly on edge of everything. the constant screaming and agitation felt like a big step back from your work til now but you know a day is not regression. you just feel like you didn’t stop shaking a bit since lunch.

you made your way to the gym earlier than the last 4 wednesdays to tell bakugo if you could reaschedule.

you're not sure his boots had its own rhythm or if the structured angry marches were beginning to feel too comfortable in your routine.

he simply stood in front of your feet and you quickly stood up, not allowing his shadow overwhelm your figure sat on the floor.

"could we rearrange this today?"

your voice completely exposing your fatigue. months ago this would make you feel too vulnerable. now you're just thinking you'd rather hear his raw judgement than lift an arm and try to motivate your quirk to happen.

he just watches you. you're pretty sure he knows how his eyes are an entirely quirk by themselves. they weaken your thoughts.

"we could train our rescuing approaches."

his eyebrows furrow. oh, you need to be careful from now on.

"you quitting?" his voice was deep. lacking understanding on purpose.

"no." your response is fast.

"it sounds like you are."

"i'm just suggesting something quieter. then maybe train tomorrow?"

for someone who sounded offended when you analyzed each other on your earlier encounters, he sure was looking at you too firmly.

"quieter.” he repeats.

“theoretical.”

“why?”

you feel like crying for some reason “it was a long day. i’m just tired.”

he’s always immaculately angry, but you know that’s actually his neutral. a few seconds pass.

“no.”

you simply exhale.“no?”

he walks towards a beach and places his bag on it. 

“our deal is almost up.” 

“yes... i’m sorry. i can make it up to you tomorrow, i promise.” you respond. you’re supposed to meet each other in the music room next week.

he locks his jaw and looks at you. there’s a hint of hesitation before he speaks again. he’s such a hypocrite sometimes.

“aizawa told me i reduced 40% of damage on areas surrounding villains attacks.” he admits plainly. 

your eyes widen a bit, automatically.

“bakugo… that’s truly amazing.” you confess you always wanted to have classes with aizawa. “i’m-”

“so you see how i can be pissed when i’m the only one making my part of the fucking deal, right?”  his interruption was casually rough.

you furrow your eyebrows.

“i don’t see how i’m failing.”

“then why are you not being honest right now?”

it sinks in you. that is fair although it feels unfair. you’re not sure how to respond, paralyzed by being called out and knowing you made progress but feel unable to put it into words.

“it’s more complex than that, bakugo.” you relive “it’s a bad day.”

“it’s not whatever reason you had a bad day. it’s the why we’re doing this.”

“well, i’m getting faster and faster during our sparing.” you justify “i’m sure you can see how you’re helping me.”

“how would i? you’re still dodging.”

you don’t seem to understand his line of thought and you think he notices.

“you say there’s a reason we went to that room all the time” he sounded cold “i don’t do what i don’t want to.”

okay, you think you know where he’s coming from…

“but there’s enough shit i can take from someone when they’re always keeping me at an arm's leigh.” 

you technically didn’t have to be an open book with him. it’s not fair of him to ask you to be so vulnerable about things he didn’t understand. but he was right, wasn’t he? he was giving you something and you’re empty handed.

“i see.”

you whisper and look around, avoiding the presence of the person you just now realized became a solid pillar of your growth. shame is an icy feeling.

after a second you look back at him and he’s looking at you. there’s an hesitation on him but it’s from a vastly different intention than yours.

he turns back to his bag.

“till next week then.” he grabs his black tank top and a necessarie and goes straight to the men's toilet. 

you feel impotent. on yourself. 

this conversation added such a bitter brick on your mural of bad occasions of the day that you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay and try to fix this. it could wait until tomorrow, you think. 

you left the gymnasium without looking back.

the next few days you were unsure of everything. of how to study, how to organize yourself, how to talk to present mic on your monthly encounters but he seemed to grasp and believe that you could figure yourself out. 

you didn’t see bakugo and it was not an uncommon thing that you don’t bump into each other. but you felt like you were owing him something. an apology. but you’re sure he would appreciate more honesty.

you already had his christmas gift prepared disregarding the result of your little deal. you’re just not sure if he’d still show up. he’s impulsive sometimes but he doesn’t back down from anything. not even the smallest of the complications. so you’re holding onto that.

you exchanged numbers but only to arrange the training schedule. you’re brief when you send him your last text.

“we could meet at 2pm on the 24th. is that okay?”

the silence was loud.

swiftly, the 24th of December arrives and you’re already pacing on the large and very empty music room. your gift carefully situated on the piano’s bench. there’s a least 10 motives that you could put a fault to for reasoning your nervousness.

should have you apologized before this? you’d rather do this in person if you could. was your gift too much? you could’ve talked to kirishima on the sidelines. were you crossing a line?

you were thinking about playing the piano to calm your systems because it’s funny, you actually learned jiggle bells-

the door opens. not delicately but not too rough. 

you stop to look at him. he’s an all black attire, too smooth to look like he’s genuinely warm from the cold. but he said it himself. he’s too much himself to do or wear anything remotely uncomfortable to him. 

he walks slowly towards the column near the microphone stand and leans against it. hands on his pockets. very nonchalant of him. 

you were too tense on your on feelings you didn’t take in consideration how you both became truly friends in those past months for him to be his casual self around you. the growing intimacy being the very reason of your feelings for the boy.

“how do we settle this?” 

he sounds calm. you feel 10 tons less heavy. you inhale and exhale and wish you could talk elaborately like present mic talked to you.

“i’m getting there.” 

“no rush.” he straights up and start stretching his arms.

he’s messing with you and bite back a smile.

“it’s safe to say you’re more worthy of a prize than i am.” you start talking, making your way to the piano bench “turns out you’re a better learner than me.”

“you had doubts?”

you grab the present and turn back to him smiling. “i think i had too much faith in myself.”

he huffed. you cautiously walk towards him and he just kept looking at you.

“pitying yourself now?” he whispers raspily. 

“no.” you hand him the package. “you were just a surprise.”

his eyebrows went slightly up as he took it from your hands.

when you have nothing to lose you really do get braver. in a way that you’d accept his rejection with your head held high because he would not treat you any differently than his genuine feelings and intentions. that sincerity counts too much. 

“i think i took you for granted…” you admit “i don’t think i should have opened up the way you wanted me to that day”

he didn’t move a muscle to open his prize. you could hear your heart beating but you force yourself not to become fidgety. “but our practices and my learning from you and this consistency of us became so familiar, too good… that i felt like i was the best version of myself in these moments. that maybe… i unconsciously didn’t want to ruin it in any way.”

he was always attentive so his complete focus on you weren’t strange. you were just overthinking the last whole year and trying to convince yourself that he wouldn’t find what you said cheesy or cringe.

after a few seconds he just looked at his hand and meticulously started to unwrap his gift. 

“i struggle with anxiety when my surroundings are too noisy.” you let out watching his hands “and, well, your quirk isn’t smooth.”

he was unfolding the brand new black tank top on his hands now. you think this is a great gift, regardless of the outcome. 

“so… i could say that working with you was perhaps the best thing that happened to me in all those years of school.”

his eyes were focused on your expressive idea. on the very middle of the tank top contained a small drawing and a few words. number one written on the top and on the middle of a delicate image of a grenade, it said hero.

you were pretty sure you crossed an immense line on this relation because of this but his softened wrinkles were your best prize. 

he lightly brushed his thumb over the embossing before blinking and moving towards the little drawer you once saw him interact with and retreat a small red box from there. oh, his part was here all along. that’s performative. in a bakugo way.

“how long was that there?” you ask.

“don’t let it get to your head. i actually play one of the instruments here often.”

you pout with his response and he comes back to you.

he hands you his present and there’s only so much bravery you have in you. you can’t really look him in the eyes.

you start to unlace it and your brain is blank on what could this possibly be. when the box is free you open it quite briskly.

then you see a very elegant pair of earplugs.

thinking about it, you shouldn’t be that surprised. but you were.

“when you fought momo back then, i noticed how you flinched every time she created some kind of explosion.” he states and you keep focusing on the earplugs. he got you hearing protectors. they were beautiful, red and small enough. there were some golden embodiments on them.

“it was too subtle. even yaoyorozu didn’t notice” he continued. “but it takes one to know one.” 

he takes his free hand to his pocket then proceeds to show you his own black pair. growing up with a power like his… you should’ve suspected. he was attentive to his objective but mostly to himself.

you finally look up with glistening eyes.

“i don’t…” what can you say?

“and after you won the fight, you stayed there for the rest of the students. i could see you shaking. you were just going through with it.”

he never looked more real and tender. he guarded his protectors and took his hand to your face. his fingers wiped out the single tear that escaped your eye and stayed there. smoothing your cheek.

you closed your eyes. 

“had to kick your ass for weeks for you to finally see me.” 

you chuckled and opened your eyes as he rested his hand on the nape of your neck. it was warm. 

“just wanted you to control this stupid feeling. feel the security you pretend to have in public.”

he says and you look at his lips and you can’t look at anything else. the only thing worthy of your attention. you can’t control yourself and you let go.

“i’m gonna…” you sound breathy but it doesn’t really matter cause katsuki is faster and his lips are on yours. he kisses you passionately and you retribute putting your hand on his blond locks.

it’s a slow and deep kiss. raw emotions that words aren't able to understand. the intensity of it is matched between the two of you so it’s just deliciously passionate. 

without stopping the kiss he pushes you lightly until your back hits the column. he presses you there like needs it. like he doesn't want you to let go of him.

after some time you separate, biting softly his lower lip and he let out a scratchy sound. 

you look into his eyes before noticing you’re finally seeing a ghost of a smile on his face. he’s too appealing. too interesting and too gorgeous. you can’t take this.

“think i’m the number one hero, huh.”

then he goes and traces your neck with slow kisses.

“i’m learning all your secrets.” you force it out of you.

“please, do” he bites the area where your neck meets your ear and you hold your breath involuntarily. 

you feel peaceful.

[fujokafka]

we need to bring back old school tumblr communication and im so serious. sending an ask to a mutual just to say hello. seeing three different asks in your inbox all asking how your dentist appointment went. seeing a post you think one of your mutuals would enjoy and tagging them/sending it to them in the dms. nowadays its just silently liking a post or (if youre feeling extreme) replying under posts. WHAT HAPPENED TO US!! we used to be a proper community!!!! #LetsBringWhimsyBack

[andthelaw]

reblog if you want ppl to send you random lil' asks

[megaherbs]

For fucks sake I'm dying here i need a community of weird bitches

[ivory--raven]

on the other hand ultra new school modern Tumblr communication (visiting each other)

[for-ests]

Welcome Home Higuruma Hiromi x Reader

Wc: 1.8k

Cw: basically your husband missed you after a LONG week ;) smut, fingering, pnv, you know...

Finally, after days apart, the front door to your shared apartment with Higuruma creaked open.   ​

Without even looking, you could already ‌hear his desire for you. It was in the sound of his briefcase thumping against the pine flooring, followed by the muffled clack of his shoes landing ‌beside yours. Each sound was more telling than words; in fact, it was the silence and deliberate haste to reach you, to hold you again, to feel you.

Your husband had been gone for almost a week, tirelessly working on his newest case at the desk, with the police, and in and out of courtrooms. Your only communication was in brief texts, updating you on the situation. The victim he represented had no one else, and Higuruma made it his mission to be there for him, to believe him. And although some partners would resent his fierce dedication to the job, you adored it. 

To you, there was no choice but to be understanding; he helped so many people. And Higuruma was forever indebted to the grace you constantly gave. It was impossible not to miss you, especially when each hard-won verdict cost him important moments with you.

Returning home to you was his favorite part. All the stress of work melted away when you were in his arms.

What a sight you were in that revealing silk slip dress, hugging your curves in all the right ways. Seeing you again, especially like this, never failed to make his heart race. You were as beautiful as the day he’d met you.

“Darling,” he muttered.

“Welcome home,” you called, switching off the stove and letting his dinner rest. Before you could turn, you felt his hands already tugging at your apron strings.

Higuruma’s slender fingers swiftly undid the bow, carefully lifting the loop over your head before setting the apron on the counter. His arms circled your waist from behind.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, burying his face there. His breath danced across your skin, his nose nuzzling close. After time apart, he always returned more tender, his craving layered with the echo of evenings spent just like this. The hush of your breath mingling with his, the room thick with the comfort of home and future promises.

“Smells amazing,” he said, referring to both you and the food you were preparing.

You leaned into him, tittering from the longing in his tone. “What do you want first?”

“My wife,” he breathed, lips brushing your ear. Before you could answer, Higuruma’s hands found your thighs, massaging them gently before creeping up further. “Is that okay?” he murmured, reading your every movement, his fingers spreading warmly across your stomach underneath the nightgown.

“Yes,” you whispered, melting into him, your bodies fitting together as if no time had passed. His hand then found your panties, and the spatula slipped from your grasp, clattering back into the skillet.

He pulled the dress up, cupping your ass and inhaling your scent, taking in your warmth like it would be the last time. Then, he hooked a finger around your panties and pulled them down to rest at your ankles. A moan left your lips as he inserted a finger into your already slick hole. ​

“My love…” he exhaled, using his free hand to turn your head to the side and meet his lips in a passionate kiss. Desperate and starved for your affection, Higuruma needed to make up for lost time.

“Will you let me have you here?” He asked as you turned around in his arms.

“Yes,” you replied, feeling his hands dig into the flesh of your hips. 

Instinctively, your legs latched around his waist as he hoisted you onto the island counter. You giggled in response before you settled into the new position, your lips meeting his again in a fervent kiss, your hands finding purchase in his gelled hair, ruining its precision.

“I missed you,” you whimpered between it all.

A low moan slipped between Hiromi’s lips as your fingers tangled in his hair. He pulled your hips even closer, grinding up against you, uncaring if your slick contrasted against his black suit.

​He was clearly pent up, desperate for your touch, to have you like this after days apart. “I missed you more,” your husband groaned. “You’re the best part of my day.”

Higuruma’s hands on you were greedy. His touches were possessive, a clear sign that he desperately needed you. He was starved for you, for your attention, and your affection.

He nipped your bottom lip, teeth tugging it before kissing you again, rougher this time. One of his hands slid up to grip the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair.

He ground against you yet again, his body yearning for your touch. The clothes that separated your bodies were creating too much distance. 

​“H-Hiromi–“ you whimpered, both of your hands falling backward to grip the countertop and steady yourself.

​It was all so desperate, so arousing, that a mewl of satisfaction escaped you in response.

“Missed me?” he teased, pressing his face against your neck. His hands roamed your body, as if he’d never touched you like this before. He was so pent up, so needy. He craved you.

“Yes, so much,” you exhaled, back arching.

Higuruma groaned against your skin, pressing another rough kiss to your neck. You always smelled so good, felt so good—were always perfect for him.. He had been away for too long without your presence and love, barely sleeping, never eating.

Now he could feast.

He slid another finger into you easily, hooking against the spot that made you squirm. He was greedy and rough.

He leaned in, hot breath fanning down your neck with each syllable. “I dreamed of doing this every single night I was away.”

“Hah–” you sputtered out, melting into him. One of your hands reached for his belt and weakly tugged at it, hinting you wanted all of him right away.

No foreplay, no more words. What you wanted was instant gratification.

Groaning, Higuruma’s teeth came to nip at your earlobe, his fingers curled inside you harsher, igniting your sweet spot once more.

“So impatient today, aren’t you?” he scolded mockingly.

“Yeah,” you whimpered as his fingers pumped in and out of you excruciatingly slowly, your legs falling farther apart, waiting for all of him. “You’ve left me here alone all week, the least you could do is make love to me.”

Higuruma groaned again, your words nearly pushing him over the edge as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo and perfume. He needed you as much as he needed air. “God, you’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted desperately. “I missed your cock so much, please baby, I need you.”

Higuruma groaned against your skin, finally getting what he wanted. He was tired of teasing, of playing with you. He growled against your neck. “That’s a good girl.”

And then, finally, his belt clanged against the floor as he tore it away, positioning himself at your entrance. You sucked a breath in with anticipation, head falling back. “Thank you–ngh."

Slowly, he pushed himself inside, giving you time to adjust. It had been days after all, as if your cunt could forget his size and shape that always stretched you so good. You could hardly contain yourself, head tossing back as you cried out. “Fuck, oh, yes baby, missed you!”

“Good, that’s better,” he managed to groan before his lips found yours again, sloppy and heated.

The kiss was hungry, rough, paired with a romantic rhythm of your body following his lead.

“So good for me,” he panted against your skin. “Always so good for me, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned as he picked up the pace, his skin slapping against yours, his tie hanging over your exposed shoulder. He went deeper with each thrust, and you were already coming undone.

Hiromi couldn’t hold back anymore. It had been days of wanting you. Days when his mind had only been filled with thoughts of you, of this.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. Of your little moans, of the way you felt around him, of how good you smelled, how beautiful you were... just you. 

“God...you’re so... perfect.”

Just one compliment from him, and you’re sent over the edge. 

He could tell, and so he kept that same, yet firm pace, watching your pussy greedily consume his slick cock.

“Ahh~!” you cried out, your legs shaking and twitching, your entire body filling with the high and heat only he could give you. “I’m cumming, baby, I’m cumming—ngh!”

Higuruma’s nails dug into your skin the moment you spoke, his grip tightening and stroking. He needed you to come for him. He needed to see you fall apart, to know that he was the only one who could make you feel that way. After all, he was a greedy, possessive man. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you, my love,” he whispered, his voice rough.

He kept plunging into your now squirting cunt; it sucked him in so perfectly that a few seconds later he was unloading inside you, groaning in ecstasy. His warm liquid filled you, causing you to shudder in response.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. Still inside you, Higuruma hunched over your smaller frame, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You chuckled in response, leaning into him. “I love you.”

Higuruma let out a deep sigh, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He was exhausted, his body heavy, but there was no place he’d rather be.

“I love you… so much” he chuckled, voice slightly muffled against your skin. His hold around you was tight, as if he were scared you’d slip away if he let go.

Neither of you moved until the chill settled in. When he pulled out of you, you bit down on your lip, your eyes following his, watching the way his seed seeped out of your quivering hole. 

“Bath or dinner first?” You asked, sliding off the counter on wobbly legs.

As Higuruma reluctantly pulled away from you, you could tell the past couple of days had taken a toll on him. He looked exhausted, with his hair messy and even more prominent dark circles under his eyes.

He let out a deep sigh, his back popping as he stretched. He was obviously sore from overworking himself, as always. But even then, he still made it a priority to take care of you first.

“You don’t mind helping me with the bath, do you?” he asked, looking over at you.

You turned the stove back on. “As long as you don’t mind your dinner being reheated.”

[for-ests]

When The Sun Hits: Johnny Storm x Reader pt3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (AO3)

Summary: As Reed Richard’s most brilliant physicist, Johnny Storm supposed you were off limits. But when a cosmic entity who threatens to consume your planet appears, he realizes he needs to at least tell you how he feels before it's too late.

Wc: 9.7k

Cw: mild violence/blood/death.

A/N: I'm also sooo sorry that its taken me so long to update, I hope t get the final part out faster. Life is so busy forgive me and enjoy<3

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Despite everything you had claimed beforehand, nothing compared to being stuck in the moment. Responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you were terrified.

From inside the Baxter building, you were anxiously monitoring the quantum flux stabilizer, affirming Reed’s calculations through an earpiece as you stared at the massive holographic screen.

The only sound heard was a relentless metallic rasping that echoed through the room. You stood ten feet from the control dais, feeling both small and insignificant in the dimly lit room dominated by the looming machinery. The rasping noise grew louder and more piercing with each cycle, a twisted chant reverberating in the stillness. Beneath it, the tap of your heels on the tile seemed almost futile, a mere whisper against the commencement of the teleportation process.

As the quantum flux stabilizer drew more energy, the lights throughout the room flickered, signaling the strain on the building’s power systems. It felt as though the machinery was a star inhaling, its immense pull threatening to consume every electron in sight.

Only one stabilizer remained, just above Subterranea, where millions cowered, powerless. People like you, just less privileged.

The Baxter building suddenly shuddered as the immensity of Galactus collided with the Earth. The backup generator kicked in and alarms blared. Metal groaned from the building’s shifting structure under the impact.​

Your heartbeat was deafening as you bolted out onto the balcony, hands gripping the railing. The wind tore at your hair as you brought one hand to shield your eyes from the sun, scouring for Johnny in the sky.

This was the new plan, possibly onto plan D at this point, where Johnny would hand you Franklin when Galactus was distracted, and you would flee. It was all you could do. The last resort was now the only resort.

Anything but that. Anything but fleeing with Franklin and leaving the ones you loved behind.

You would honor their wish, but it still felt wrong, it didn’t feel real. Even just the possibility of this family no longer being in your life terrified you. In a short amount of time, they had become everything to you. You still had so much to do, so much to accomplish. So much to experience. A whole life to live, filled with love that you wanted to spread, love that you wanted to share with this family. 

Yet your heartbeat insisted this was different, and that it had a strange finality and it was infinitely more terrifying.​

“Secured the child, heading your way Y/N!” Johnny’s voice crackled in your ear above the wind battering against you.

Regardless of your anxiety, you surprisingly found yourself laughing from the sheer relief of the fact that he was okay, at least for now.

“In position,” you replied, managing to smile once his burning silhouette appeared in contrast to the clear blue sky.

Suddenly, with Johnny nearby, you felt safe, wanting to fall into his arms, flames and all.

Never had you felt that way. That was why you were there. For Johnny, before anyone else, before anything else.  The realization had frightened you before. But now, as you stood amidst the chaos, with death an imminent specter, you felt an intense heat rise within you, echoing your fear and resolve. It pulsed in your chest, a fiery reminder of what was at stake, urging honesty in a moment when every emotion was laid bare.

“This is insane!” you yelled. “You're insane!”

He laughed. “I know, and you’re doing amazing!”

As Johnny handed the cradle to you, you stared deep into his glowing eyes, corneas that reminded you of molten lava, accepting the responsibility with urgency. “Don’t do anything stupid, Johnny,” you said. “For us.”

Us. Johnny hesitated. His eyes softened at your insistence. What a dream.

With your free hand, you instinctively started to reach for Johnny. You felt the heat emanating off of him, savoring the feeling in case it was the last time.

But in return, he pulled back. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Johnny recovered quickly, though. “Only because the most beautiful girl in the world said so,” he teased in response, mock saluting you before shooting back up into the sky.

As your ears heard the rumble of his flames long after he was out of sight, your smile faded. This wasn't fair. It was all going according to plan. Even if Franklin was in your arms, and Galactus was approaching the hidden wormhole, your gut still twisted in resistance.

The soul was a very powerful thing, and yours was screaming no.

Snapping you from your thoughts, Franklin cooed softly. Taking a deep breath, you gazed down at him as he pawed at your hair that swayed in the breeze, entirely oblivious to what was unfolding around him, what each of you were doing to protect him.

“Don’t worry,” you replied, lightly poking at his wrist until he released your hair.

Franklin giggled, so innocent that it warmed your heart. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” you promised, smiling sweetly at him despite the fear rising in your chest.  You couldn’t shake the dread, convincing yourself that you were just paranoid and not going mad.

But you knew this wasn’t going to work.

Stillness filled the city, broken only by the occasional rumble of Galactus’s gargantuan foot falls. The building shuddered in concert. 

To combat the rising terror, Herbie began to hum a song as you paced with Franklin, bouncing him on your hip to calm both of you.  

You heard an explosion. Then felt the aftershock of another. 

A moment passed… nothing happened. Not that you would know, for all you could make out were their directions.

Then, in your earpiece, you heard Ben curse.

“He’s going for Franklin!” Sue yelled.

“Y/N, retreat!” Johnny screamed, his voice cracking over the comms, his voice nearly drowned out by a sudden, closer explosion that shook the building.

Each tremor was closer than the last, and your stomach dropped, knowing that it was Galactus trampling through buildings to get to Franklin—to you. 

With adrenaline pumping in your ears, all the light from outside vanished as the doomsday fortifications slid into place.

Franklin started to cry, likely sensing your panic and helplessness. As Herbie zipped toward the elevator, you fought to steady your hands, placing Franklin into his cradle and sealing the visor shut.

You were only human, hardly protected by anything but an old suit that Sue could no longer fit into, and a blaster holstered to your thigh. But what could a gun do against a cosmic deity?

You hurried after Herbie toward the elevator as Franklin’s cries grew louder, rising with each rushed step.

Suddenly, the windows shattered before the elevator doors could open. Galactus's massive hand reached in and plucked you and Franklin, still in his cradle, straight out of the building.

You screamed as Galactus lifted you four hundred stories above the ground, your body weightless and arms locked desperately around Franklin’s cradle—the only thing between you and oblivion.

That was until you were hit with a cosmic blast, a ray of energy that you couldn't see, only feel. It stung and bubbled across your skin like acid rain, seeping into your cells with a fizzling burn. The air was sharp with the taste of ozone, and the metallic tang clung to your tongue. It paralyzed you, etching another blare of pain from your throat as Franklin was pried from your grasp.

The baby cried for you, for help, so loudly that you began to sob in return.

“My salvation.” Galactus’s voice rumbled through every atom, pressing down on you.

“Stop!” you screamed, helpless as you watched Galactus open the cradle, gently bringing Franklin out of it and into his palm.

All you could think about was how desperately you’d failed Franklin and his family. Your chest heaved for air, your eyes wide as tears escaped your ducts. The atoms were pressing around you, and it felt like you were suffocating.

Death. You saw death. A bright light, a few seconds into the future.

In your last moments, as your eyelids grew heavy, you hazily watched Galactus turn his attention toward you. Glowing purple eyes, like a void, seemed to gaze into the inner machinations of your soul.

“How strange,” Galactus stated with a tinge of amusement, his voice rattling the damaged beams and broken glass behind you. “Perhaps I can make use of you—”

Snap! 

You felt something break within yourself. It was violent. But it was quick…painless. Then, you were immaterial, out of your body, somewhere you’d never been before. Bodyless, formless, standing before a golden orb that filled the void. Its particles flowing all around you. 

Worthless. That was your final thought. Disposed of like vermin, an inconvenience, like the billions of lives on this planet that would soon join you. You were merely a pheasant shot down during a fox hunt. Your death was purely a surplus. Collateral. 

The gentle presence calmed you. A light to lead you back where you were needed.

Suddenly, you felt solid ground beneath your feet, although you couldn’t see.

You steadied yourself, reaching up to touch your face, still damp with tears, keeping your gaze on the billowing golden light.

“Am I dead?” you managed to sound.​

“You are in flux.”

A deep, female voice replied from the golden mass, the particles stirring in response, moving closer to you.

“What are you?” you asked, taking a step back. 

“I am from beyond.” 

You glanced around, instinctively looking for an escape, before an invisible force pulled your head back forward. 

“Do not be afraid,” it soothed, each word resonating with a celestial harmony. “I am here to help.”

“Whats going on?” you whispered, holding your hands out in front of you and turning them over. Your skin glittered with a particle you couldn’t classify. “I don’t understand—”

"You can serve a greater purpose to wield a power few will ever achieve. The potential for more is within you, and you have been chosen,” The entity spoke with an ethereal cadence, as if each syllable was imbued with ancient wisdom.

“What is it?”

“An ancient magic.” 

“I need more of an explanation than that.”

“You will understand in time.”

“Why me?”

“Your heart is untainted.” The golden mass swayed slightly. “A rarity”

You almost scoffed.

“Believe me or not, young one, it’s far beyond your comprehension. You are the key that will help bring balance to the multiverse, no matter the path you take. We do not have much time. The force awakening within you is rare, but not unheard of.”

“Force?”

“We would prefer to cross paths when you are more mature.” It almost sighed. “But we are in the process of mending an incursion.” 

You were unsure whether to take that as an insult or not. At your hesitation, the golden light particles began to surround you.

“What do you choose, Y/N?” It echoed in question, waiting but impatient. “Do you desire eminence over life, or dominion over death?”

Death’s embrace felt so alluring. But what purpose would you find in death?

“Life.”

The being hummed in approval, and for a moment, you felt complete and utter bliss as the light flowed into you, soaking into your veins and mingling with your blood. It felt like a kiss from God himself, the hug of a thousand angels welcoming you home. Even if it was death, you could die satisfied.

The light was no longer surrounding you, but inside of you.

“You will have no recollection of this deal.” Its words reverberated through your mind. In the back of your consciousness, you felt a strange tingling, but it went unnoticed as your hands fell to your sides, your skin still buzzing with the warmth.

“Why?” You asked in panic. “Will I ever know?”

“When the time is right.”

In your last exhale, you uttered, “Thank you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

As you fell, Johnny immediately caught you.

He could hardly breathe, in a panic-riddle daze as he retreated with your limp body in his arms. Hastily, he brought you inside a leveled building for shelter, laying you down as if you were made of glass. 

You felt changed. From one touch he could sense it. 

Gently, and still on fire, Johnny reached for your hair and brushed it away from your closed eyes, untangling the messy strands from your eyelashes. His fire did not burn you, even though it melted the destruction around you.

You were different, and he didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for being too late. 

“I’m sorry.. I’m  sorry…” he whispered, rambling on as his eyes scoured you for any injuries. Nothing, nothing but your peaceful expression, your perfect skin, and the faint, yet steady, beat of your heart. 

You were alive, and that was what mattered. And when you would eventually wake up, he just hoped you would understand that it was all for you. 

His flames fizzled out, and the roar followed, leaving him hunched over you in an eerie silence. 

“I have to break our promise, Y/N,” he said for nobody but himself, to ease that burden, to stop the fear rising in his chest, to remind himself that this was for you and his family. You had already done so much for them, and it was his time to repay that favor.

With tears welling in his eyes, with every atom in his body screaming to stay, Johnny gently pressed his lips to your forehead. 

For you, he would gladly sacrifice his own life. Not that he wanted to, no, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you if given the chance. But that didn’t seem likely.

One last time, Johnny reached for you and curled your body into his. He inhaled your scent, and relished in the warmness of your being. A sob raked through him, as he cried into your shoulder, wishing you could talk to him, wishing you could comfort him or give him advice like you always did. 

It wasn’t fair. He just wanted to be with you, and he may never be able to live that wish. 

“I love you.”

He kissed your cheek, resting his forehead against the side of your face. His tears fell against the fabric of your suit, but you didn’t stir. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, I’m sorry for being such an idiot.” He kissed you on the lips, wishing you would kiss him back one last time. 

“Please forgive me.” 

Johnny had to save his family. His nephew. His love, you.

He would fight until your last breath.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

When you finally snapped awake minutes later, you were lying on the ground floor, in the midst of chunks of rubble, but cradling you was a pile of soft, fine sand.

Your heart knew that it was Johnny's doing.

As you steadied yourself, you pawed at the sand, sliding it through your fingers. You couldn’t remember what happened, numbly taking in your surroundings, apprehensively moving your neck in soothing circles.

Finally standing  up, you stumbled slightly. But there was no pain; your muscles felt more alive and sturdy than ever.

Then, your earpiece crackled.

“Tell Franklin that uncle Johnny loves him.”

The silence was deafening, the trepidation sinking deep within your gut.

“…And tell Y/N that I'm sorry.”

Barely awake, you panicked at Johnny’s words, stepping over chunks of rubble and climbing over a broken wall and out onto the street. No, no—anything but that. What did he mean? 

It was empty, but you searched and searched for them, racing down city block after city block. There was no distant rumbling of Johnny’s flames, there were no voices, movements, or even a cry from Franklin.  Your heart was pounding, your body was shaking, and your worst fears were threatening to become a reality.

Tears were streaming down your face at that point but you continued to sprint past the fatigue, running faster than you ever had before, screaming Johnny’s name without realizing it.  

Until finally, a few blocks down, you spotted them huddled up together.

Alive.

Your shoulders slumped forward in relief, your knees threatening to buckle. 

“Johnny!” you cried, starting to run again, but you just couldn’t. 

At the sound of your voice, he turned, squeezing his sister’s shoulder before darting over to you.

He met you before you stumbled, letting you lean against him to muster up the rest of your strength.  As you caught your breath, his eyes grazed over your body for any injuries. There was blood on your suit, but otherwise, you looked okay, not a scratch on your face, as beautiful as he had left you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly. 

Finally, you lifted your head, meeting his perfect blue eyes that were wide with an indescribable emotion of surprise and relief, as if he had finally seen you, an oasis in his desert. But his eyelids were red and raw, a type that could only come from crying. 

There was still so much uncertainty racing through your mind, but you were certain that Johnny had cried for you. Whatever the hell just happened had changed you. Maybe he thought you were dead, maybe you had been. But that didn’t excuse the sacrifice he had intended to make. 

Johnny was a lot of things, but he was also selfless, he always put those he loved first. And you had almost lost him because of it. 

“Please say something,” he urged, reaching for you. But before he could, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

It wasn’t harsh, but harsh enough to silence the entire family. That slap was more than just a scolding; it carried the weight of your fear and relief. You were angry, but also happy, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

Maybe Johnny should have realized that sooner, but he was just relieved to see you unharmed and awake. Nothing else mattered. 

“Don’t you ever try to do something like that again!!” you yelled, but when he reached for you anyway, the frustration turned into sadness, and you began to sob violently. 

Tears began to freely stream down your face, and Johnny gently wiped them away with his gloves.

“Stop crying for me,” he said. “I’m right here.” 

You threw your arms around his neck in apology, stifling a sob into his chest. You practically melted into him as his arms encircled you tightly, as if it would be possible for anything to take you away from him. 

“You promised me, Johnny,” you reminded, tone softer, sadder.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

“Are you alright?” Johnny questioned, hand caressing the back of your head as he held you against him. You were trembling for him and his safety. 

“I think so,” you said, voice muffled against his chest. “You’re still here.”

Your words caused Johnny’s yearning for you to pang even deeper.

Once you pulled away, you gazed up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry for slapping you, I-”

“It's okay,” Johnny interrupted. “I shouldn't have broken our promise, after all.”

“Never again,” you said, firmly. 

“I swear.”

With one last look, your attention quickly turned to Sue and Reed, cradling a newly content Franklin, who was cooing softly, gripping onto his mother’s shoulder. You broke away from his hold and joined them.

“What was that about?” Ben asked, leaning down to mumble into Johnny’s ear.

“I don’t know, but it was hot,” he chuckled, gaining a nudge of approval from Ben before they joined the rest of the group.

As you bent down next to Sue, she smiled at you. Somehow, you could sense that Sue had died. But she was revived. You felt similarly, for some unexplainable reason. The two of you gazed at each other before she finally spoke.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “There’s not a scratch on you.”

Diagnostically, Reed was also watching your every move. Something had happened to you while he was distracted. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it was something unique. Why the planet conqueror hadn't killed you, he couldn't quite figure out. 

As Reed absently adjusted his suit, his eyes caught a fleeting reading on his handheld device—an energy spike at 9.8 terajoules—it was something strange, something different. Quietly, he pocketed the data, deciding to analyze it further when calmer heads prevailed.

“What happened up there, Y/N?” Reed asked, his tone softer.  His gut told him that those strange readings had to do with you.

Hesitantly, you glanced at all of them, your eyes eventually settling on Franklin.

You were protecting him. You were…

The last thing you remembered was pain, the dark, and the endless purple glow of Galactus’s eyes.

There was nothing, only a void that threatened to consume you. But it didn’t.

“I… I don’t know-” You words stopped short. 

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Within days, the city had been rebuilt. The people moved on fast, yet a part of you couldn’t. No matter how badly you wanted to pretend, things were different for you. Even if you went through the motions, busying yourself with miscellaneous tasks to take your mind off of it all, that ever-present voice haunted you, echoing in the quiet spaces between your thoughts.

Death was no longer a stranger in your life. 

But even then, it wasn’t fully there. It was fuzzy, on the tip of your tongue, as if someone had reached into your brain and severed any possible fragment. 

And behind your eyelids, a golden light danced. It didn’t taunt, it was warm, beckoning, but impossible to name. Your mind was a blank canvas, interrupted only by fleeting, tangled flashes that left you reaching for meaning.

Galactus and his voice—Franklin’s screams. How you had felt insubstantial and powerless.

Your weakness.

Your death.

Your rebirth.

At night, you would wake drenched in sweat, your muscles and bones aching for familiarity. Every breath you took felt precious. The phantom pains were the worst part, as you couldn’t recall what caused the injuries your flesh remembered, but not your mind.

But as the weeks passed, you started to feel better, the nightmares were few and far between, and you were grateful for each moment you could spend with Johnny and his family.

Tonight, you and Johnny had opted for a lazy night in. You had drifted off to sleep as a movie Johnny had already seen a hundred times played in the background.

“The best part is coming up, Y/N,” he whispered, nudging you gently with his arm but keeping his attention focused on the tv. It didn’t wake you. 

Over the movie’s chatter, he hardly caught your whimper, a sound sharp with fear, not the playful kind he loved to coax from you.

Johnny gently pulled the blanket higher, thinking you were cold. But as he shifted, your hand latched tighter to his shirt, anchoring him to you.

“No!” you suddenly groaned in frustration.

Johnny stilled, finally peeling his eyes away from the tv to peer down at you. “No what, babe?” he asked, wondering if you were just groggy and talking in your sleep.

“He’s…” You twitched; your eyes were moving incredibly fast. “He’s just…a baby…” You forced out, starting to pant heavily, your grip loosening then tightening into a fist so hard you almost scratched his skin.​ 

“Y/N,” Johnny called your name in a soft tone, and the hand that wasn’t curled underneath you reached out to brush the hair away from your face.

But his touch only made you grimace, and more twitches jolted through your body. Your chest expanded in deep gasps before a broken cry escaped from you. 

“Hey,” Johnny said, untangling himself from your clutches and hovering over you, shaking you a bit more firmly.  “Wake up!”

“S-Stop!” you cried, jolting awake, thrashing as if fighting off invisible hands. 

“I’m dead, I died!” you screamed in fear, clinging to Johnny’s arms, desperate to feel grounded, and he held firm, soothing you with quiet words, guiding you gently back to the cushion.

You stared at him, eyes wide and haunted, breath coming in ragged bursts as if you’d glimpsed something from beyond. For a moment, Johnny thought your eyes glimmered with an unfamiliar light—but maybe it was just the TV’s glow caught in your tears.

“Y/N, look at me,” he brushed the hair away from your suddenly slick forehead. “It’s okay, you’re here, you’re alive, this is real.​"

He cupped your jaw, drawing your face to his, waiting patiently as your breath slowed and your body finally softened into his embrace.

Your hands burned, heat pulsing through your skin until your whole body felt ablaze. Was it fever, or something stranger stirring inside you?

“Johnny…” You finally whispered, still in a daze. Meeting his eyes, your lip quivered. “Did I wake you?”

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling away to let you sit up in his lap. He watched you carefully, waiting for you to respond.

“Just a nightmare…” You murmured, voice thin as you swallowed the truth. You could barely face it yourself, let alone burden him with it.

But the way he looked at you made it impossible to hide anything from him. There was so much worry in his expression. 

He was there, steadfast, ready to catch you if you fell. And you were. 

“Tell me later,” Johnny said, his eyes leaving your face for a moment to look down the hallway, sensing that the two of you were no longer alone.

Around the corner, the rest of the family had been aroused by your screams, lingering around the corner in a mix of panic and curiosity. 

​“Just a nightmare guys!” Johnny shouted. “Everything’s okay, I got it handled.”

You shook your head, murmured an apology, and melted back into Johnny’s arms.

Relief washed over you, thick and sweet, as sleep tugged at your eyelids.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I won't leave your side, Y/N.” Johnny promised. “Have only sweet dreams this time.”

He was real. You were alive. You breathed in his scent and let your heartbeat match his, drifting back to sleep to the steady drum of his chest.

A few minutes later, Reed walked into the living room.

“Is she okay?” He asked Johnny quietly, in a conscious effort not to wake you.

Though Johnny nodded, he couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t telling him the whole truth. Your slumber-addled smile told him you were content, but that didn’t speak of the past. You never exaggerated, but your true thoughts were shrouded. It took immense effort on his part to make you feel safe, especially after all that happened. He didn't think you remembered everything, but you had a habit of bottling things in.

The archived trauma was now rearing its head in your dreams—the dreams that made you scream, the change in your demeanor, and your apprehension. 

All he wanted was to help you.

“She had a nightmare, but I think it was a memory,” he paused, remembering the words you had mumbled, the fear in your voice. “From Galactus.”

Your breathing remained steady.

With concern etched in his expression, Johnny met Reed’s eyes. It hurt him that you were struggling, and it hurt that you couldn’t tell him. If Johnny couldn’t help you,  he desperately needed someone else to.

“She said that she died.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

A few days later, Sue was the one to get the truth out of you.

The boys were out helping the civilians rebuild. Sue had wandered around the building, still finding spots that needed renovation. As a creature of habit, she had expected to find you in the lab, but you weren’t there.

Instead, you were cuddled up on the couch again, reading a textbook with a vinyl playing quietly in the background. You were so engrossed that you only lifted your head when you heard Franklin sniffle.

When he saw you, he reached his little hands out and pawed at the air, face squishing as if he was about to cry again.

“He wants to see you,” Sue said calmly, seeming to know exactly what her son wanted. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, shifting into a more comfortable position and outstretching your arms. “Any reason why?”

You couldn’t admit you’d spent the last few hours crying while they were gone. The uncertainty gnawed at you, wearing you down until your thoughts felt frayed and thin.

But the second Franklin was nestled in your arms, your anxiety disappeared.

“That, I assume,” She replied. “He likes you.”

We have been through a lot together. You wanted to say. But somehow, you knew that Franklin understood that as he melted into your arms, suckling on his thumb.

“You and Reed need some alone time?” you asked, assuming they would ask you to watch him for a while.

“No actually,” Sue laughed. “I’ve learned that you're one of the only things that makes him stop crying.”

“I wonder why.” you spoke aloud, gazing down at Franklin, who was now sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“Because you’re family,” Sue said.

Hearing her say that caused you to stiffen. Your eyes met hers, wary, as if bracing for a joke that never came.

“I-” you started, but couldn't speak.

“Johnny is out of the equation right now.” She smiled. “You’re one of my best friends and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. So please, you can tell me anything, okay?”

“Even if I say I’m in love with your brother?”

She snickered, trying not to wake Franklin. “I already know that.”

“Thank you, Sue,” you said, and you meant it.

“Will you tell me what’s bothering you?” she asked softly, but then her tone shifted. “If it has to do with my brother I swear-”

“No, not at all,” you interrupted with a smile. But it took you a moment to decide what to say next and to understand what was actually bothering you. The dreams, supposed memories. Your smile faded.

“I just feel different,” you admitted. “And I’m not sure why.”

“You did experience a lot.”

“I think I died, Sue.”

The air felt thicker, the silence grew louder. It felt better to speak your theory out loud, to get it off your chest. And when you met her eyes, you felt your lip threaten to quiver.

“Like you did.”

All she did was look at you. One and the same. It would have been impossible for you to know that otherwise. Franklin stirred in your arms but did not wake. Your voice hushed further for his sake.

“I know something is different, but I don't know what. And it's eating me alive.”

“We will figure it out,” Sue assured, in a similar way that Johnny would, with pure determination.

For you. In the same way you would for them.

“You believe me?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

You shrugged.

“Crazier things have happened.”

Later that night, when Johnny, Reed, and Ben sauntered back home, they found you and Sue sprawled out and sleeping on the couch, with Franklin in between the two of you. There were empty wine glasses and popcorn still on the table, and your textbook was open on the floor beside you.

“Have a fun night with my sister?” Johnny asked, hoisting you into his arms with a dramatic grunt.

“Yes,” you giggled quietly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Waiting for you to get home.”

With a grin, he brought you into his freshly renovated room, kicking the door shut behind him. It smelled of fresh paint, definitely not of Johnny. But it would do. It looked almost identical.

As he set you down on the bed, you sighed, sinking into the mattress like it was heaven after a week on the couch. The overhead lights blinked off, leaving only his bedside lamp glowing a deep orange.

Shortly after, Johnny snuggled in beside you, pulling the covers over your body. He didn't have to ask, and neither did you. Both of you had craved a moment like this for so long.

“Wanna tell me about your dream?” Johnny asked, snaking one arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest.”

A chuckle escaped you before it was replaced with a pout. Even just thinking about it frustrated you. As Johnny gazed at you, his expression morphed into complete seriousness. All he wanted to do was understand, to help. You weren’t alone.

“You said that you died.”

Your nose brushed his as your hand found his cheek. Confusion still tangled inside you, fear of the truth and the part of you that felt changed. You wanted to trust your instincts—and Johnny. You needed to.

“I think I did…” You said, taking a moment to formulate anything of substance. But there really wasn’t anything, no proof, no evidence, no memory. Your thumb brushed across his stubble, your eyes meeting his. “But somehow I’m here.”

Knowing you had actually died, made Johnny feel sick. He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. He should have never let you help… he should have listened to his gut. But it was you that insisted, it was your free will that he had no right to take away.

Seeing you like this was hard. You hadn’t been yourself the last few weeks, and he knew it was because you were frustrated and scared. It felt weird piecing everything back together— literally, physically, and emotionally.

“I don't remember anything. But I have a deep discomfort, a scrambled memory. There’s nothing. What I whispered in my sleep, I can't remember.”

As Johnny soaked in your words, his hand enveloped yours, bringing your wrist to his lips, where he kissed it softly. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded gently. This was hard for you, not being able to understand your own mind. “I can't help but feel that I'm supposed to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“What happened to me,” you clarified.

Instead of shying away, Johnny stayed close. In unspoken words, you knew what he wanted to ask. He was there. He was real.

“I’m different now, and I don't know why or how.” Your breath escaped you. “Science can't explain it away.”

“Ill always be here and nothing will change that,” he whispered, tugging you closer to him. 

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

But his touch, his breathing, his heartbeat, made your eyelids droop. Just as you figured, Johnny Storm was your cure, your safe haven.

“I’ll…” you yawned. “Tell you when… I figure it out.. Okay?”

As you drifted off, you thought you heard him mumble his affirmation, but his presence was always enough. Just having him in your life was enough.

“Sheesh, you’re hot,” Johnny mumbled.

“Says you,” you managed to groan back.

“I’m not kidding,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you again. “But I'm not complaining.”

“Johnny,” you whimpered sleepily into the pillow. “Please let me sleep.”

“Alright,” he replied, chuckling slowly as he pressed a kiss into your hair.  

Leaning into it, you felt a smile pulling across your features. You could barely open your eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“God,” he mumbled into his pillow, right beside your ear. “I love it when you hold me to things.”

That same promise, that same memory, finally lulled you to a peaceful sleep. And for the first time in weeks, there wasn’t a nightmare.

Instead, you dreamed of another world, one where the sun pulsed with living golden light, and as you danced beneath it, that same light poured into your veins.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

A week later, as you were walking down the street with Ben, flashes of that dream blazed through your mind. They came in waves, forcing you to pause at the corner even as the crosswalk turned green.

Grocery duty had fallen to you both, but you embraced it, eager for the excuse to wander the city and breathe in the crisp, open air.

Ben glanced down, catching a fleeting, peaceful smile on your lips. After endless hours cooped up in the lab, even a simple grocery run felt like a grand adventure.

But then he noticed it—the subtle twitch of your eyebrow, your eyelids fluttering shut, as if recoiling from something unseen.

You stopped short in the middle of the crosswalk, frozen for just a heartbeat.

Inside, you were paralyzed, mind overtaken by an unseen force. Wisps of gold danced before your eyes, a gentle voice whispering comfort, even as ruin hovered at the edge of your world.

You are the key that will help bring balance to the multiverse.

“You alright, Y/N?” Ben asked, grasping onto your arm and pulling you to the other side of the street. He set both of his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

At the motion, you gasped yourself back into reality. As your vision cleared, you blinked, finally focusing on Ben. “W-what?”

“You spaced out there, kid.” His hands dropped away. “Has that happened before?”

“I don’t think so…” A moment passed as you reflected on what you saw. Deep in your heart, you knew it was a clue; a repressed memory that was clawing it ways to the forefront of your mind. But it wasn’t complete, and you could only assume it was from the day you died. 

“You should really let Reed run some tests on you,” Ben sighed, knowing what memory you were referring to without having to speak it again into existence. “Just to be safe."

As the two of you entered the grocery store, you nodded, grabbing a grocery basket. “I will when we get back. But…”

“But what?” Ben asked.

“You have to make dinner then.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if that wasn’t already the plan.”

Leaving the store with arms overflowing with snacks, you watched Ben grumble good-naturedly, balancing nearly thirty bags across his broad back as if they weighed nothing.

You skipped ahead, prompting Ben to shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re lucky I like you,” he teased.

“I deserve it!”

“You just had to choose the most expensive steak, and lobsters? Surf and Turf Saturdays are not going to be a regular thing!”

“It’s not like you’re strapped for cash!” you shot back, quickening your pace to match his stride.

“Fair enough, but spending this type of money on you is Johnny's job, not mine.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “But you’re the better cook.”

“Johnny can pay for it,” he grumbled. “But, I could help him cook it.”

“Deal,” you giggled.

You and Ben turned onto a new block, taking a different route than before.

“It’s more scenic,” he joked, nodding toward the construction ahead. “They’re building something new, wanna check it out?”

“Sure!”

That something new happened to be a towering sculpture that honored the Fantastic Four and their victory over Galactus. Instead of replacing the old bank building that used to be on this block, they were going to make expectations for much needed greenspace. The area was already buzzing in anticipation for the grand opening. 

And of course, you immediately wanted to tease Ben about it. He always got so bashful over compliments. 

But before you could, the construction crew spotted Ben’s towering frame and erupted into cheers. You couldn’t help but snort, rolling your eyes at their antics.

“What's good big fella?” One of them asked, simultaneously extending his arm over the barrier for a handshake.

After addressing Ben, he turned to you. Both of you smiled at the same time.

“No way that’s you, Kurt!” you laughed loudly.

“Ohhh look who decided to grace us with her pretty little face today! What’s it been, about five months?”

“Not too harsh now,” you chuckled, brandishing the brown paper bag under your peacoat. “I brought drugs.”

“Aye, it’s those cookies that Richie’s kid loves.”

“He only likes them when Y/N buys them, I told you that!” He smacked him upside the head.

You laughed, passing the cookies over. “Stay warm out here, alright?”

“Say, that Storm kid got his grubby lil hands on ya yet doll face?”

“Yeah he did, dumbass,” you shot back, rolling your eyes to mask the flustered expression that threatened to cross your face. “And I’m having a hell of a time!” 

“Richie, tell your nephew he’s gotta compete with Johnny now!” They burst out into laughter.

“Crush their dreams while they’re young,” Ben muttered, shaking his head.

“Look at her, too!” Richie teased. “Never thought I’d see her blushing like that.” 

Once the laughter died down, Kurt shook his head as he opened the cookie bag and began passing them around. “Say, Y/N, since you’re canoodling with Johnny now, you think you could get us something else besides cookies?”

You deadpanned. “You get paid more than me, Kurt.”

“Ah, worth a shot,” he chuckled. “Well listen sweetheart, me and boys would love to see you on the screen again. Mr. Richards better know how big of a star he has on his hands.”

“I was saying she was a smart cookie!” Richie cackled.

You rolled your eyes at every compliment, but laughter left your stomach aching. “You’re too much!” you called, leaning on the barricade to linger in their company a little longer.

Ben realized this and stood off to the side, only listening to your conversation, even chuckling to himself from the natural banter.

They were old neighbors, old friends, from a life you lived before you took the job for the Fantastic Four. You hardly spoke of your past, but it was clear you were loved before you waltzed into their lives. 

Ben had just finished the cigarette that he bummed off one of your friends before you joined his side again.

You instinctively waved a hand in front of your nose, scrunching your face at the lingering smoke.

Ben only smirked, shaking his head with a knowing glint in his eye, as if privy to a secret you’d never guess.

“What?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Still got it in ya, huh?”

“Oh?” you scoffed. “That’s just Kurt."

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Ben added sincerely, with a soft expression despite the harshness of his features.

“They took care of me back then,” you admitted with a slight smile. “They’re some good men… But don’t ever tell them I like their wives better. Always fed me on cold nights.”

You didn’t elaborate, and Ben didn’t ask. You both appreciated the quiet understanding. You didn’t know everything about each other, but it was enough to feel like family. No matter what had happened, Ben thought you had a good head on your shoulders. You were good for Johnny, for Sue, and for Reed.

You were his friend, someone he’d protect with his life. Not just for Johnny, but because he genuinely liked you. Honestly, that knucklehead didn’t deserve an angel like you.

Eventually, the crosswalk blinked green. As you and Ben turned to head home, a sudden shout rang out down the street—a voice you instantly recognized as Richie’s.

Immediately, your entire frame snapped backwards, and if you had been carrying any groceries, you would have dropped them.

Overhead, something enormous shuddered, then snapped. The crack echoed down the block, paralyzing everyone but you. Time seemed to slow, your own movements stretching into eternity.

You didn't even realize you were sprinting toward them until you heard Ben’s voice above the chaos.

“Y/N, NO!” Ben yelled, but you were already under the beam, and so was he. The precious groceries lay strewn across the pavement, and your hands were outstretched to Kurt, with what little protection, however futile, you could provide.

The breath in your lungs escaped in a gasp.

Ben’s massive frame quaked as he caught the beam on his shoulders. The crash made you shudder while dust and debris rained down, knotting in your hair and sticking to your clothes.

“Hurry, dammit!” Ben cursed in tension.

Blinking the dust out of your vision, you saw that Kurt, Richie, and the others were alright. You reached out to Kurt in an attempt to pull him free. But as he grasped your hand, a scream left his lips.

Still, you managed to pull him free with the help of Richie and his crew. Once everyone was out of distance from the rogue scaffolding, you turned to Kurt.

“You okay?” you asked gently, partially because you were still in shock, and because you could hardly stomach the blood.

“Think my leg’s broken,” he coughed, now covered in soot. You were too, but you pulled his jeans up, and saw the bone sticking out.

“Fucking hell!” he cursed, raising his wrist to his mouth and biting down to suppress another yell.

“I-It's going to be alright!” you assured, already scanning your surroundings for anything to splint with. “I’ll stop the bleeding and we’ll get you to a hospital real quick."​

“What the hell even happened?” one of the other guys muttered beside you.

The ground rumbled as Ben set the beam back against the street, out of harm's way. He approached you, and the group huddled around.

“Is anyone else injured?” you asked, nodding in thanks as someone handed you some plywood and a t- shirt. Hurriedly, you tore the shirt into a longer strip and began wrapping it around his thigh as a tourniquet.  

Gently, as you steadied the boards around his broken ankle, you pressed your palm against the underside of his leg, directly against his skin.

You fumbled with the cloth, as you’d never even applied a tourniquet before, and you prayed internally, in a haze from all the blood, from the fragility of humans. The fragility of your own life.

“Shit!” you whimpered, second-guessing yourself. “Did anyone call an ambulance yet?”

Unbeknownst to you, your hands began to glow, too busy trying to save your friend to notice, Your whole body blazed with energy, mind racing and unable to separate the heat from your adrenaline. 

Since nobody answered you about the ambulance, you finally looked up to find that the pain had vanished from Kurt’s face. Now, his eyes were open and wide, just staring at you, as if he didn’t know what to do or what to say. 

Fuck, was he going to pass out? 

“When the hell were ya gonna tell us you can do that?” Kurt finally said, before an awestruck laugh escaped him. 

Confusion twisted your expression. “Do what?"

Then you glanced down—his ankle was healed, as if it had never been broken. Only the blood on your hands and clothes remained as proof.

“I…” you paused, glancing up at Ben. “Didn’t know I could do that.”

“Try and heal this cut,” Richie butted in, holding his arm out to you. Hesitantly, you reached your hand out. The moment your fingers made contact with his skin, the cut seemed to bubble into nothingness. 

“Holy shit girl!” Someone cheered in disbelief.

“Let’s get you home,” Ben said, offering his arm. There was a warning in his voice, and you understood. As you took it, you scanned the street, relieved the press hadn’t arrived.​

“Y-yeah,” you replied, also helping Kurt up in the process. He squeezed your hand before you turned away.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Kurt nodded, the look in his eyes confirming that he wouldn’t speak a word of it until you were ready. Just like when you were a kid.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Johnny, Reed, and Sue tried to greet you as you entered the kitchen. But the expression on your face left them speechless.

You brushed past them, immediately retreating to the living room that had a spare chalkboard. You discarded your coat and scarf on the couch beside you.  

Slowly, Ben entered after, sighing as he set the groceries on the counter. He gestured to you, still in disbelief. “We have something to show you guys.”

Johnny was the first to approach you. “What’s going on Y/N?” he questioned apprehensively, as he’d never seen you so perplexed, so lost. 

“I-I don’t know,” you managed to reply, picking up a piece of chalk and jotting down any formula that came to mind. Healing. Regeneration. There had been plenty of research, more theories than you could possibly remember, yet nothing had ever been proven. 

How could science even begin to explain all of this?

You had just made the impossible possible. Before your own eyes, with your own hands. If only you could remember, that was all you needed—

“You will understand in time.”

That voice seared through the layers of your subconscious again, like a warning, and it caused your face to contort in discomfort, confusion, and denial. Even after weeks, your memory of that day remained a patchwork of missing fragments.

All but few. 

Time. 

Something there would never be enough of, something a mere human could not understand.  

A different path, a frayed version of reality. 

Everyone was silent as you worked, just watching, frozen in the places you left them, concerned but refusing to speak until you calmed down.

Eventually, as you frantically scribbled your thoughts onto the chalkboard, with darting eyes and twitching hands, Reed came to stand behind you, next to Johnny.

That burning sensation crept along the palms of your hands as you finally finished, drawing a deep, thick line around your answer—nothing.

This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be your doing, it had to be a fluke. None of it made sense. Magic wasn’t real.

“Regeneration?” Reed asked quizzically, eyes falling on you for an answer.

After another long moment of silence, Johnny set his hand on your shoulder, guiding you to turn around and face him.

There was a frown upon your face, and your eyes continued to avoid his.

“What happened, Y/N?” he finally asked.

The answer, the words were caught in your throat, unable to escape. You were scared, not wanting to accept this reality, not when it could change everything, not when the life you were comfortable with would no longer be the same.

The Fantastic Four were the only humans on this planet with superhuman abilities. From a cosmic blast in space. How the hell did this happen to you?

“She healed someone’s broken leg.” Ben finally said. He spoke for you, but you didn’t mind. It still didn’t feel real.

Sue raised an eyebrow, rounding the kitchen counter to join the rest of you, bouncing Franklin on her hip. “How?”

“I just touched him,” you choked out. “I was trying to apply a tourniquet.”

Ben continued. “Then her hands started to glow.”

In bewilderment, Reed’s hand came to cover his mouth. A deep sigh escaped him as he tried to make sense of it all. Johnny glanced between the two smartest people he knew, disconcerted that both of you had no explanation.

“But I tested you, nothing has changed… the results came back negative,” Reed responded anxiously, frustrated at himself for not catching it.

Ben sighed. “I just got her to agree to more testing.”

“It’s fine Reed,” you assured, even though you were afraid. “This isn’t something the science we know can explain.”

“Of course it can!” Reed tossed his hands up. “I must have missed something, I’m sorry.”

“There are still some things we can try,” Sue reminded gently. “If Y/N is up to it.”

Franklin giggled in what you presumed to be agreement, his tiny hands reaching out to you, calming you for a moment.

“Did the press get wind of this?” Johnny asked.

“Nah,” Ben replied. “Got out of there before anyone else saw.”

“Just some old friends... they won’t say anything,” you mumbled, leaning into Johnny’s arms for comfort. Tears blurred your vision. You’d created another mess for them, another layer of stress in an already impossible world.

Johnny felt your tears soak into the fabric. “Hey,” he pulled you tighter against him. “Everything will be okay. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” you exhaled. “I promise.”

“Well figure it out, Y/N,” Sue assured gently. “It may take some time, though.”

They were always kind, even when the world made no sense. They shielded you, comforted you, stood by you. As you calmed, you breathed in Johnny’s scent, letting his warmth clear your mind.

After another deep inhale, you slightly adjusted yourself in Johnny’s arms to face them. “I feel like my mind’s been tampered with. Like something was erased…something beyond us, something different than Galactus.”

Johnny felt you stiffen beside him. “Galactus…” you swallowed hard. “Said he would make use of me.”

And then he snapped your neck.

The memory of it almost caused you to jolt in repulsion. But instead, you swallowed hard, forcing down the fear that rose within you. The silence made you uncomfortable, not knowing the answer and not being unable to do anything made you uncomfortable. 

“I need to go down to the lab-” you started, but Sue was the one to cut you off. Johnny’s grip on you tightened. 

“No, what you need is rest.” Her tone was firm, as she caught the agitation in your movements. She did not want you to adopt Reed's bad habits.  

“Give us some time to help you first,” Reed said. “Let me prepare something.” 

That convinced you well enough, but maybe it was because you truly really were exhausted. 

“We’ll start tomorrow, Y/N,” Johnny assured, rubbing your arm soothingly. “As early as you want.” 

There was no use in fighting them. They were right and had used your own logic against you.

“Fine.” You sighed in defeat, bidding them all an early night and following Johnny to his room. 

Once the door to Johnny’s room shut, Ben slumped to the couch. The silence was heavy. All of them knew it was going to be a long night. Ben and Sue were still in shock from the revelation, with Ben still trying to rationalize what he’d witnessed, what had almost happened to you and what you were now capable of. 

Reed couldn’t peel his eyes away from the gibberish you’d scribbled on the chalkboard, hand resting under his chin in a deep contemplation. None of the formulas were finished, but you were onto something about an incursion. There was a symbol he failed to recognize, one that seemed ancient. 

Technically, it didn’t make sense. But you had one of the brightest minds he’d ever come across, so it had to mean something. Or else, you would have gone completely mad. 

Sue joined Reed’s side and placed Franklin in his arms. “Maybe this little guy knows.” 

“I’m sure he does,” Reed softened as Franklin nestled against him, utterly content and curious. “He brought his mother back to life, after all.” 

That caused Sue to smile fondly at them both as she took a seat next to Ben on the couch. Eventually her eyes drifted to the board. “What else could possibly have the power to bring Y/N back to life?”

“Someone or something gave her that power,” Ben added. “It’s unlike anything we’ve seen.” 

Gesturing to the unidentifiable symbol, Reed highlighted his confirmation. “An entity not of this world” 

“Great,” Ben groaned. “Another alien?” 

“She did say it was like Galactus, but not him. Maybe someone he knows of…?” Sue trailed off, her question remaining unfinished. 

“This is all so unprecedented,” Reed sighed. “I mean, why her? She was only protecting Franklin, like the rest of us.” 

“It’s about time we considered that we don’t know everything about Y/N,” Ben said. “There must be some obvious explanation, something we’d never thought of.” 

Reed exhaled in annoyance. “I know it’s the latter, but I hate it.” To reset his thoughts, he turned his gaze back to his son. 

So many unknowns, so many possibilities. In moments like these, it was hard to not go insane. But as Reed gazed into his son’s eyes, all he could think about was how they would prevail. For each other, and for their world.

[citrustsuki]

HEAR YE HEAR YE

CARL-TRON HAS POSTED

[citrustsuki]

thinking of kiri headcannons to fall asleep but it’s not working

[starspenxcie]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

fluff - baby!gumi walking in dad!toji's footsteps

it’s snowing softly.

big lazy flakes falling slow. landing in toji’s dark hair. sticking to megumi’s fluffy hood.

the grocery bag in toji’s hand is light - just some milk, bananas, hot chocolate (and lollies) you forgot to grab earlier.

you stayed home to start dinner and said, 'gumi’s been cooped up all day. take him with you. he loves the snow.'

toji grumbled per usual. but didn’t say no.

now they’re walking through the park on the way back. bundled up in scarves and puffy jackets. the world quiet and pale under a blanket of white.

megumi is toddling along behind him.

slow. careful. focused.

toji hears the crunch of his own boots in the snow, steady and deep.

then, he hears the softer pats of megumi’s smaller boots.

and then-

he hears a grunt.

turns around.

megumi is pausing every few steps… and very seriously, very determinedly, very adorably, placing his feet directly in the footprints toji left behind.

toji just blinks.

megumi blinks back. then steps into the next footprint. stumbles a little. adjusts.

“…what’re you doin’ back there?” toji calls.

megumi frowns. “walk.”

“you’re copyin’ me?”

the toddler shrugs, like maybe.

toji watches him.

tiny arms out for balance. cheeks pink from the cold. green eyes narrowed in full concentration. he looks like a serious little snowball. a puff with a mission.

and something about it - makes toji’s chest feel weird.

soft. full. stupidly fond.

he turns back around.

but this time, he walks slower. and he steps a little closer together. so the footprints are easier to follow.

he doesn’t say anything.

doesn’t look back yet.

just walks.

soft step. soft step.

and behind him, megumi toddles forward. a perfect little echo.

boot in footprint. boot in footprint.

every now and then, gumi hums a little tune. softly. distracted. proud.

they pass a family building an ugly looking snowman. a fat dog running in circles, stupidly happy. a couple with their arms linked, smiling. 

toji adjusts the bag in his hand.

then looks back again.

megumi’s still going. a little red in the face now. but still so determined. stepping exactly where toji stepped, fully confident. like he knows he won’t slip. like he trusts that it’s safe where papa’s already been.

and toji’s heart cracks open just a little bit more.

he crouches. waits.

when megumi finally toddles up to him, he plops down into the snow dramatically. 

“my feet,” he says, pointing. “tired.”

toji chuckles and ruffles his spiky hair. “wanna ride?”

megumi nods immediately. lifts his arms. toji hoists him up with one arm, rests him on his hip and holds him close.

“you did good,” he murmurs.

megumi rests his cheek against toji’s shoulder. “i walk in your steps.”

“i know, kid,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. “i know.”

and the snow keeps on falling.

A/N: this is heavily inspired by that one amazing artist on x, who makes the CUTEST fushiguro family drawings! @/DDub1618

taglist: @im-a-simp139, @tojiful, @happyberryave, @lisabelhyhn, @mialafavorita, @tet-yy, @sxpernova, @airfyre, @chewiebee, @iquitfindingausername, @anonymous123sm, @justiceforkira, @widaamins, @thejujvtsupost, @inkedbynova, @gypsiegoop, @icebearcucumber

[tteokdoroki]

🍥 HE ATE THAT THING  ✩  jock bf yuuji itadori .ᐟ

🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 for weeks, your favourite jock boyfriend has been dying to know what its like to have his girlfriend sit on his face. its haunted his every waking moment, during classes, games and even practises! so after a little pep-talk, you decide to make his dreams come true (8.4K) | magnetic - jock bf yuuji masterlist.

🏁 safety car ! ⋆  not safe for work ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only. college au, not canon compliant, characters are in their twenties, established relationships, insecurity, overstimulation, fingering (f!recieving), pure oral sex (f!recieving), face sitting, strength kink, size kink, cumming untouched, reader is significantly inexperienced, yuuji is very experienced ( point of insecurity ), reader wears glasses, yuuji pro eater lolol. not beta read sorry its 5:30 am! jock bf yuuji itadori, weird girl & fem reader. part of a series but can be read as a stand alone.

🏁  team radio ! ⋆ happy belated valentines? at least from my timezone!! it's vday somewhere!! another installment to the jock bf yuuji series hehe! brain rot is strong lolol pls tell me u get the title!! i sincerley hope you enjoy!! i love u all !! click for more. 

── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2026.

“hey, so, sit on my face?" 

the lecture theatre stays quiet aside from the steady drone of your professor’s voice — going on and on about pathogens and how they spread between your cells. it’s nothing you haven’t heard before, a recap of content for an upcoming practise exam — so your attention wavers between each slide on the powerpoint presentation. just when you think you’re about to pass out from boredom, your boyfriends smooth and honey-like voice filters through your frame, sending a shiver down your spine.

biting your lip to keep yourself from squealing and disrupting the class, your head whips round to your left — leaving you eye to eye with yuuji itadori himself. “what? itadori how did you even get in here?” your voice is hushed and surprised, but it doesn’t phase him, the jock simply leans into your sphere or space like he belongs there — pink hair tickling your cheeks as he throws an arm around your shoulders an nuzzles into you affectionately.

the pens on your desk clatter against your laptop whilst itadori leans into you and the fellow students around you cast you both a brief stare before turning back to the lecture at hand. where you shrink in your seat, your boyfriend shines — hardly paying anyone attention with his focus entirely on you. 

“what happened to yuuji, aren’t i your boyfriend?” the pink haired jock whines like a child seeking attention, words warm as they coast along the pocket of skin between your neck and shoulders. you roll them as he clings to you, as if trying to rid the heated flush that flashes through your body against his. “snuck in through the doors at the back. did you hear me babe? sit on my face?”

the way he asks is enough to make the room spin and something dangerous twist in your gut. yuuji asks like it’s nothing, unaware of the effect he has on you on a day to day let alone when he gets like this. needy, hungry for it. you can tell he’s been waiting for it from the way one hand smooths over the swell of your thigh underneath the lecture theatre’s pew. his nose nudging  the sensitive spot underneath your ear.

swallowing thickly, you push your laptop further away before itadori can knock it over. subconsciously, your head tilts back to make room for him, even though you want the ground to swallow you up — afraid of being noticed. “h-here? in front of all these people?” 

“no, honey,” yuuji laughs softly under his breath, squeezing you closer. “course not, i was just thinkin’ i’d pick you up from class — i got you somethin’ sweet on the way here by the way. then you could come over to my place after! then we’d watch a movie or something.” animatedly, he details your plans and earns himself a shush from those in the very back row. with a wince and sheepish smile as apology. “i miss you, coach gojo finally let us go early for once and i’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“thinking about me sitting on your face?” you squeak, acutely aware that your oversized, muscular, puppy-dog-like boyfriend was about two seconds away from mauling you in front of a bunch of third year biomed students. “all day?”

he pauses for a second and when you look down, brown eyes are locked on your face and burn brightly with unspoken desire. you’ve seen him look at you like that before, right after a game when he comes looking for a kiss. the first time you went down on him and the first time you let his fingers stretch you open in his lap. to others, yuuji may seem like a cool and calm guy — keeping it level headed on the field and when it really counts… but with you, he’s able to unravel. 

show the parts of himself that need hiding from the light, yearning without shame — a type of yearning that surprises you everyday with how much he wants you. how he chose you over all the people that want him so. 

itadori’s gaze on you never wavers, there’s a confidence that shimmers beneath the surface. one that knows what you want, that you’re curious and that you heard him. “well i was thinking about how your thighs looked in that cute little skirt you wore to the library the other night and yeah, then i started thinking about eating you out,” he muses simply, quiet enough not to disturb the other students around you. low enough to get you worked up. “but that’s besides the point — do you want to or nah?”

“oh…yuuji, i don’t know,” guilt starts to bubble up inside, and warp the cadence of your hushed voice. your inexperience in comparison to yuuji has always been a point of insecurity for you. you’re not even sure you could ever live up to standards already set by the people and partners itadori’s had before you. they don’t matter, you know that – but a slight sense of insecurity always bites at you whenever you think about how much better he is at this sex thing compared to you. it’s not yuuji’s fault, he’s nothing but reassuring, always making sure you know you’re his number one. you just can’t help but worry.  so you hesitate. “i know we’ve done stuff together and…you’re more experienced than i am but i—“ 

itadori jumps into action. quick to comfort you. “hey, hey look, if you don’t want me to touch you, i won’t. alright? i’m not that kind of guy,” he expresses sweetly, pulling back on his flirtations to give you some breathing room. “there’s absolutely no pressure or anything. i just really, really want to make you feel good. though, if you’re not ready, that’s okay too. i’ll wait until you are.” 

with that, he kisses the side of your head and leans back into the lecture seat he’s taken residence in — digging out his phone to play some games and pass the time. “you’re not leaving?”

“why would i?” the pink haired jock laughs, pressing his lips to the back of your shoulder in a quick attempt to reassure you. “i said i wanted to pick you up from class, so i can wait! besides, i really did miss you, practice has been killing me lately and i hate being away from you.” 

itadori’s so sweet it rots you from the inside, like a toothache you can’t seem to get rid of. you feel giddy that he likes you the way that you like him.

all you can do is smile at him, turning back to the lecture playing out before you — reminded of how wonderful your boyfriend is, how patient he can be when it comes to anything you’re unsure of. dating, your experience, your sex life. fucking you isn’t at  the top of yuuji itadori’s bucket list, simply being with you is.

that thought alone is enough to make your stomach swim with need.

—

no matter how you feel, you end up at yuuji’s dorm anyways.

the strawberry blonde, pink haired boy of your dreams rewards you with your favourite muffin for attending class as a treat. then later thumbs away any crumbs on your cheek as you walk back to his place. it’s a simple gesture that ties your tummy up in delightful knots, especially when he sucks what remains from the tip of said digit. slow, tongue swirling over it — lips pulling into a pleased grin….

you’re distracted. you have been for the entire morning and afternoon. ever since he brought it up, casually as though he were asking you for a favour, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the very idea of sitting on yuuji’s handsome face. you picture it while staring at his back while he unlocks his dorm for you — he’s strong, he could take it. it crosses your mind when you catch a glimpse of his golden skin whilst changing clothes in front of you — getting cosy, tossing you a pair of his boxers and a clean jersey of his if you want it. he’d look good, naked and wet and soaked around the face if you did it.

even now, when you’re innocently snuggled into his side, your head tucked underneath itadori’s chin whilst you lay on the broad firmness of his chest and his arm slung lazily over your waist to keep you close. you can’t help but mull over his proposal from earlier, how it might feel to sit on his face. how it would feel to look down at him while he sent you higher than heaven.

“hey, yuuji?” 

you breach the surface of silence with as much confidence as you can muster — toying with a hangnail on your thumb as you speak. 

“yeah, honey?” yuuji responds instantly, in tune with your thinking even though he’s got his brown eyes trained on a movie playing from his laptop — you put it on half an hour ago. some action-romance coach gojo had suggested would be good for date night. what did he know?

without thinking, the jock grasps the hand that you fiddle with and presses a soothing kiss to the slopes of your knuckles  — as if he knows you’re nervous without even looking at you. he slows his own breathing, giving you something to follow and calm yourself down with. you match it before you move. 

carefully, you hook a thigh over his waist and shift  into his lap to straddle him. instinctively, yuuji’s grip jumps to the warm flesh at your hips in order to steady you above him like he’s done a thousand times before — still, the gesture makes your heart and stomach swim. 

his head full of soft pink-milk hair swerves just a tad, gaze curving around you in order to remain on the movie. “baby,” itadori laughs without knowing the affect the sound has on you, rumbling through your frame hotly. “kinda can’t see with you sitting on me like this, we’re just getting to the good part!” nevertheless, his calloused palms smooth over the apex of your thighs, running downward from their place settled on your hips — giving them an affection squeeze. itadori doesn’t look away from his movie.

deciding that now is the time to be bold and brave, you wind your hips down against the loose and silky material of your boyfriend’s basketball shorts experimentally. giving him a hint without words. momentarily, there’s a catch to the way he exhales through his nose and a flicker in his amber eyes that never hold any judgement. nothing but unadulterated love for you. they darken as yuuji turns rigid underneath you — unsure of what you’re asking for or weary in regard to crossing a boundary of yours.

“y-yeah but i kinda thought that we’d um…” taking a deep breath, you lean forward until you’re chest to chest — you lips a breath away from your boyfriend’s earlobe as you whisper to him as seductively as you can. “i thought that you’d let me…sit on your face.” 

“oh…” yuuji mumbles to himself quietly, as if the words are processing in his mind — he tilts his head, much like a puppy confused by a command and causes your breathy laughter to filter over the film in the background. his gaze is still focused on the scenes flickering behind you suddenly shoots to your face, intense. he’s always had had a way of looking at you, yuuji does, dissecting you underneath brown-ish amber pools until you fall apart and your heart opens up for him, revealing how you truly feel. the nerves, the need. itadori sees it all, in every colour and every shade. 

he doesn’t judge, pass on the ugly insecurities that rest between your heart and lungs — he accepts, simply because he loves all of you; wants every bit of you too.

“ohh!” then it hits him, like a light bulb moment above his head, not too overwhelming and bright. just a quiet realisation. big brown eyes shoot across your face in the dim lighting much faster now, holding rays of excitement between their amber flecks. your boyfriend’s grip on you tightens a pinch, as if to hold you steady and stop you from running. slowly, carefully, yuuji begins pulling you back and forth against the familiar hardness that begins to grow between his legs, concealed by the thin layer of his shorts. “you really want to? you’re gonna let me make you cum on my tongue?” 

“yuuji.” something familiar and heated begins to trickle down your spine, his eagerness sending a twinge of pleasure through your empty center. trickles of arousal leak through the gusset ot your underwear, giving away just how turned on you are by his words, by the idea.

your boyfriend’s voice turns low, gravelly as if he’s fighting the lust catching in the ridges of his throat. “sorry… too much?” you shake your head his grin widens like he’s proud.  “fuck, you’re so cute. especially when you’re shy like this. got no idea what you do to me, do you?” yuuji used his grip on your ass to pull you further forward to rest on his stomach, hissing through a laugh when your warm cunt that spasms around nothing catches on his erection. “oh baby. seriously, i can’t wait… been thinking about having you like this for… for ages.”

“the noises you’d make, the way you’d pull on my hair.” with every breath he takes, yuuji’s diaphragm rises and falls between your thighs as you straddle his body – causing a subtle shift, a slight drag of your warming epicentre along his rigid and brawny torso. the sensation against your clit as your heartbeat thumps within is enough to send a hazy veil over your mind and a wobble in your posture as you sit atop yuuji. you don’t miss the streak of amusement that flashes through his amber eyes, the slight slant of enjoyment that weighs down the corner of his scarred lips - but he’s quiet with his voice when he uses it. “oh honey…” yuuji’s tone stays mellow and chocolatey as the pet name slips out from underneath his fidgety tongue, the sound running through you like it's turned molten after being a solid thought in his mind for too long, dipping low by an octave or two whilst wandering into a dangerous, lustful territory.

he’s taunting you without saying much, pupils dilating like a wild wolf that’s spotted its prey meandering meekly through ferns and tree fall and your chest heaves. your breath hitches and a freshly lit fire sets your lungs alight. the bronchi acting like paper kindle as it menacingly spreads through every vein in your body, boiling your blood to new and high temperatures. itadori peels back your layers, your fears and in response – your expression twists into one of agonising need, especially when thick fingers – dexterous, skilled and callused from sport pinch your waistline. 

“yuuji, please.” you drawl, much whinier than you expect yourself to sound. your lower lip bounces between the anxious grip of your teeth, tongue darting out to wet their surface out of habit. your gaze lowers, shying away from the intensity of his own.

as though he can tell that you’re getting restless – the pink haired jock sits up just a tad, head diving down to kiss you tentatively, lips moving slow like your boyfriend is trying to coax you from your shell and remind you – he is your safe space. “hey, it’s okay, pretty. i gotcha. it's just me…” yuuji murmurs, one hand moving up to cup the back of your neck and pull you into his orbit – fingertips looping through the curly baby hairs that lie at your nape in a soothing manner. “let’s not get too worked up, don’t want you gettin’ psyched out.” your forehead rolls against itadori’s, the space between you both limitless and non-existent at the same time.. 

it’s like you’re frozen against him. yuuji asked for this, waited for it too – but now you feel out of your depth. swimming with the sharks and other creatures that target what you think are your shortcomings and flaws. your brain lags behind your physical reality, sitting on top of the beefy and powerful jock – half way up to his chest and closer to his hungry mouth than a few minutes prior. you know that he can feel your sweet cunt clench over and grind down on his chiselled and firm frame – the want that you feel raising the temperature in his dorm room, in a way that’s real and makes your heart start to rattle out of its place and – 

and you’re so scared. of disappointing him, of being nothing like what yuuji expects. you don’t doubt him, he’s been the most loving and doting first boyfriend, you count your lucky stars that he’s yours just as he does when it comes to you. though, even still, you worry that if this intimate act goes wrong… you won’t be able to satisfy him.

but then he’s there, squeezing you, lips under your ear – wet, demanding your attention. “stop getting in your head,” yuuji breathes hotly, offering you something to float on. keep you above the murky surface waters of your doubts. “stop gettin’ in your head… and stay here with me.”

it’s not said to pressure you, just a quiet confession of love. one that reads, i’ll wait if you’re not ready and we can stop here if you want to.

you shake your head, tilting it to kiss itadori again. hot tongue brazenly licking over the swell of his lip and your delicate hands looping around his strong neck. he lets you fall in love with him and the moment once again, this little intimate bubble created just for two where he swallows your simpering sighs licks into your mouth just to taste your burning soul.

your boyfriend treats you gently, like you’re something precious, something sentimental and when you keen into him – the pink haired jock follows, pressing his forehead back against yours, nose nudging your own. his lashes flutter against your temperate skin and he casts a glance down to your boxers. “how about we start with somethin’ easy,” he states, firm but kind. the way yuuji exhales each word is rugged, meant to ground you and you can taste the desire on his breath as it coasts over your damp cupid’s bow. “can you take these off for me?” the thumb at your hip sinks beneath the elasticated waistband of his boxers. which look way too fucking good on you, by the way. a dream come true. a secret he’ll giddily let slip to fushiguro or todo later. yuuji scorches loving circles into the flesh hidden beneath them, eyes burning equally hot into your soul. “i want you to keep my jersey on though, wanna see what it looks like from down here.” 

“y-yeah, okay,” you don’t even attempt to seem cool nor collected, voice wavering cutely with nerves and wanton. “i can… i can do that.”

“‘course you can. you’re my good girl, my pretty girl,” awe weaves its way through yuuji’s cadence, cross stitched between every phrase and syllable as if to pull all the praise together. nice and tight. he watches you, waits with the patience of a saint as you nervously shimmy out of the boxers he’d loaned to you. “don’t care what anyone says, what nasty thoughts make their way into your head… you’re so fucking perfect. even if we stop here, i’ll be happy. just love having my baby on me…”

even still, you fail to miss the way that yuuji’s hip jumps from underneath your comforting weight, they rise from his ruffled and blue stripped bed-sheets, seeking the friction needed to alleviate the ache throbbing through his thickness. on shaky legs, you stand and kick the undergarment off – pulling a low, greedy groan from yuuji, like he’s starved. like his stomach is being tugged and jerked about by sharp talons of hunger, turning him hollow. 

with him above you like this, he’s able to get a bird’s eye view of your perfect cunt. they way it shines with arousal and twitches around nothing. the tightness in his muscles liquifies at the sight of you, wet and waiting, and his fingertips inch up your calves, reaching up to the curve where your ass meets your thighs to pull you down onto his abdomen again. “fuck, honey. you’re drippin’,” yuuji laughs, but it isn’t mean. it’s airless and ruined, like he can’t believe how aroused you are already. he sits up quick, tucking his face into your neck with his lashes fluttering against your skin — as if he needs a moment to cope or breathe.  “and you so good, like a confetti cake. how are you so perfect, i’m literally gonna go insane.”

he nuzzles into you to the point where it’s almost comical, trying to become one with your skin 

“yuuji, oh my gosh.” grasping at strawberry pink hair with a giggle, you push itadori onto his back once more — grinning ear to ear. it’s almost crazy how comfortable he’s able to make you feel in a matter of seconds. he loves you so much it burns through you like a solar flare hanging amongst the stars — an all consuming ball of gas that remains entirely within your orbit instead of a million light years away. yuuji loves you and only you — putting you at the centre of his universe every time.

“what?” he whines and pretends you’ve got the force of a brute — dramatising the way his torso falls back to his sheets. the palm of his hand tenderly squishes the meat of your bare thigh, grazing it without rush. it a moment of confidence, you scoot forward enough for his lips to graze you, the sharp edge of his teeth nipping your thigh. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing it’s just—” for a moment, you flounder – unsure of your next words or what to say. there’s this warm, mushy feeling that settles in between your lungs and syncs with the rapid pulse of your heartbeat. yuuji has always made intimacy look effortless, made it feel like you’re floating through the clouds and like there’s nothing to fear. you’re grateful, that he’s kind and patient and understanding. though you’re sure he’d say he’s the one that should be grateful. after all, you chose him too. “i love you.” 

scarred lips split into a wider smile, born like a star in a distant galaxy, accompanied by warmed breath that ghosts tenderly over the expanse of your flesh.. “oh, baby,” he croons, worshipfully, brown eyes big and earnest. “i love you so much. you have no idea how lucky i feel… being the person who gets to call you mine. i feel like i was created to love you and only you. ‘m sorry it took me so long to find you, but all of me is yours now…” yuuji confesses with slow, delicate cadence as if to let each word absorb into your mind and become your reality. there isn’t anyone who he wants aside from you, no one to worry about. no one he would run to the second you found yourself to be scared.  

he checks in one last time, the hands on your thighs reaching further up, squeezing you in the right places and inching towards the center of his earth, the very mid point of your being where your core burns hot with lust. “you ready? don’t worry… i’ll go slow…” the jock swallows thick, each syllable catching on the ardour lodged in his throat as you involuntarily press down into him. itadori lets out a shuddering breath at the welcomed weight and pressure, all the want and need he’s been holding back for the last few weeks finally coming to a head.

yuuji slips underneath the jersey draped over your frame and drags the pad of his thumb, rough from sports, over the hood of your clit – drawing it back just enough to make you jolt. this desire, hankering hunger to eat you out hasn’t just come from nowhere, weeks of seeing you flit around in cute skirts and nerdy, dark academia outfits accompanied by those sinful thigh high socks that hug you just right… they’ve driven him to this very point. practises haunted by visions of you squealing and shaking on top of him, your thighs almost appearing as ear-muffs – the jock has surely gone insane.

he’s more pent up than he cares to admit, not wanting to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. if only you could see yourself the way itadori did, this adorably shy, sexy little thing that makes him feel like his heart is going to stop right there in his chest. today will be about you, showing you that you’re the only thing on his mind. he’ll worship you until even you believe you’re the most precious thing on this earth.

“o-oh my god!”

you squeak in a way that makes his burly body bristle with an intense affection. yuuji presses harder against your naked mound and his digits draw the delicate kanji of his name over the little nub tucked between your folds. his touch is electrified as pleasure zaps through your clit and crackles in the bone at your pelvis – making you waver above him. 

“yeah i know, feels so good, right?” he praises you gently as you begin to rock your pussy against the seat of his palm, juices spilling warmly against it. all a result of the jock’s candied cadence and obvious desire tangled within his darkening, russet coloured eyes. “god, soaked already. you’re like a dream, baby.” yuuji’s freehand skims over the red and navy nylon mesh at your back, forming a fist in the material. it’s almost as if he’s holding back, all forms of restraint evident in both his tone and the quick swipes he makes against your cunt, teasing what’s to come. he can’t give in, reward you with an orgasm or more than his simple touch until you’re rutting against his silky tongue and cumming against his lips. 

the slow strokes to your warm wetness, mouth falling open as you try and fail to hold back a loud, echoing wail that brews on the dampening seam of your slightly chapped lips – you’re already starting to feel it, the poke to the flames sparked in your lower belly. prodded and poked and stoked by your boyfriend’s deft digits that know you so well. the jock beneath you laughs dotingly, mirroring your expression of bewildered lickerishness and love. eyebrows pinched and lips parted.

because yuuji itadori gains his own pleasure from watching you descend into an ocean of your own, he’d be willing to drown in it if you asked. sink to the bottom of the salacious sea floor with just one pleading look from you. there isn’t anywhere he wouldn’t follow you, that’s how much he loves you. 

“up you go,” yuuji pushes you forwards with a little less tolerance, using his strength and grip to haul you onto your knees – biceps bulging as manhandles you into a position that has you hovering above his watering mouth. he suppresses a starved growl, tongue writhing behind his pearlescent perfect teeth. “come on, baby. sit on my face, don’t be shy. i’m a big boy, i can handle it.” his patient gentle fascade starts to wither away, replaced by an awful greed that winds around his internal organs. “please? you’re killin’ me here, wanna show you how much i adore you..”

“but yuu… i–”

plush pink curls bounce when itadori shakes his head defiantly, even as his gut seizes at the way you whimper the nickname like you can’t even think to form proper words. its cute, how nervy and needy you are all at once… but he has to taste you. can’t wait anymore. “promise i’ll be okay, swear on it… just…” he starts to lose his train of thought, watching as you tenderly lower your weeping slit down to his face.

“promise?” you ask shakily, swallowing down the desire that bubbles up to the surface. “y-you’ll say if it’s too much.”

It's almost comical how itadori goes from shaking his head to nodding it furiously, so hard you’re afraid he might get whiplash. “swear on my life. no – on my scholarship. fuck, baby, my team–” comes his desperate ramble to reassure you. “yes, pretty girl. i promise… fuckin’ promise. holy shit–!” the jock cuts himself off when you finally lean low enough for his running mouth to press a sloppy kiss to your dewy sex. his gaze upon you as he begins to feast turns predatory – voracious as if he’s become undernourished without having you and there’s a hollow hole in his stomach from not tasting you. he licks the crease of your thigh, tasting the salt and sweat that begins to gather there from your lustful fever, trailing back to the point at which you leak sweet arousal.

yuuji basks happily in the way your hips delightfully twitch downwards to meet him, as if your body is aware of the heavens it’s about to reach. he’s close to where you need him, where he’s been begging to be lately, dreaming of, even – you’re so perfect. wonderful even. everything about you, not just your body but the way you search for him and trust him in everything that you do. “you know, you smell so good? fuck, like you wouldn’t believe…” the jersey that you wear, rustles around your frame as a mop of rosy pale pink sinks beneath it and large palms settle on the globes of your pert ass to bring you down onto his chiselled features. the manner in which yuuji speaks is nearly thoughtless, his brain lagging centuries behind his actions, shoving his face deep into the blazing heat of your throbbing mound. inhaling as though he’s addicted to your smell and what you drip.

he begins by opening wide and running the tip of his tongue through the length between your puffy pussy lips – its a slow, tantalising drag that pulls a veil of darkness over your mind and wilting thoughts. yuuji immediately sucks, slurping on all of the delectable essence gathered there, nearly glueing you together despite how you’re practically spread across his face. your boyfriend releases a longing, yearning sigh that sends a snowballing vibration echoing through the bones assembled to form your body, starting between your legs – it makes you spiral, arching away from the eager mouth that laps at you like a piece of hard candy on a stick. you reach for the stars yuuji hangs for you in the evening sky but winds down to the headboard instead – so that you can steady yourself.

“fuck…that’s… so hot,” drawling, yuuji tilts his head to an angle – bobs it up and down in a nodding fashion in order to circle the tip of his nose into the sticky surface of your clit. wetness smears across it, the weight of the gesture being enough to make you cry out like a lamb headed towards the slaughter house. “just dripping into my mouth, needed this. needed you.” your flavour spreads like wildfire across the palette of yuuji’s tongue as it easily plunges into you, guided by the slickness clinging to your quivering entrance clamping around it’s thick base. he swipes soothingly over the ribbed nature of your insides – soothing you where you’re unable to do so yourself.

lewd suckling and popping sounds fill the ambience in the room, layering over your waxing and waning angelic wails – spurring the jock on, he eats you out rabid and hungry, practically scooping  your arousal into his mouth in an attempt to drink you dry. he would if he had to. if you let him. strings of saliva are pushed deep into the impatient throb of your insides. blood rushes to the tips of his ears, warmed by your thighs that bracket them comfortably – like they belong there.

if your nails were sharp enough, they would draw claw marks against the headboard you cling to for stability taking the form of a stark contrast against the white wood. you need something even more grounding, because you suddenly find the urge to rut keenly against yuuji’s handsome face – essentially covering his swollen lips in your syrupy juices, the mess running down to the point of his chin as well. your own face begins to grow messy with tears, tight and hot because you’re nearly embarrassed from how high your mewls are becoming. turning your throat ruined and raw.

it doesn’t help that the sight of yuuji underneath you, ravaging you like it's where he’s meant to be… is one completely new to you. the lilt of his voice as he groans and grips into your hot cunt is fattened up with an air of cupidity to the point where each word turns rough, cheeks and nosebridge struck with an intense shade of carmine which contrasts complimentarily against his golden skin. not to mention the way the pitch black of his pupils eclipse all colour in his eyes. you like this side of him, unabashed and avid – ready to devour you whole.

itadori moans with you in tandem, pleased by the seemingly instinctive and eager roll of your hips that come in manic, miry waves. “y-yuuji, it feels… god, it feels like i’m,” you struggle to finish your sentences – feeling his tongue wriggle deeper inside and streak along the pleasure spots only his fingers are capable of finding usually. the jock’s mouth briefly sweeps upwards, the top row of his teeth rolling against your clit until you shake with agony like bliss. merciless until you’re gargling on your own spit and saliva, nearly biting the damn wall to cope.

there’s no room to breathe, each swish and sweep of his tongue raising you higher and higher towards the pinnacle of ecstasy. you simply crumble from the attention he pays to every inch of your soaked slit, tongue swirling loops around your entrance that locks and unlocks around nothing – pushing out a dribble of slick. sometimes your clit falls victim, pinned to it with his content hums only worsening the way your soiled and shiny thighs tremble. 

briefly, yuuji pulls his mouth off of you, lips rimmed with a cherry shade, before he quickly replaces them with three of his dexterous fingers. thick, rugged, like a man hard at work. he remains tied to you by warmed, clear strings of slick that only snap when the pink haired jock licks it up. he rubs at you frenziedly, the creaminess of your cunt fills the pocket of silence that had once only been interrupted by the way the two of you panted. your thighs twitch further apart to make room for the action, more webs of your arousal forming and breaking apart over him. “so messy, honey,,.” the jock goads you, offering up a toothy smirk to your wet stare. “you havin’ fun up there? know i am…” he pinches your folds together just to watch you leak, gushing a bubbly mix of essence and spit. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this, how perfect you are. bet the guys on the team would kill for a chance to see my pretty girl like this…”

the idea alone has you nodding  tearily, brainless and away with the fairies. perhaps one day, you might enjoy being watched by the likes of fushiguro – and yuuji whimpers dreamily, at how you jolt at the mention too, brimming with pride that rises in his damp shorts. your mound glistens under the artificial light of his dorm, making your desires obvious. “you’d like that, baby?” yuuji croons whilst he leans back up to licks you up and down with fever and newfound vigor. “too bad, kinda wanna keep you all to myself.”

gentle taps land on your swollen folds, turning to smacks against your pulsating pussy. the action renders you weak, thoughts becoming jumbled up in your mind. your grip on the headboard slips due to the ill-like  sweat that overtakes you, luckily, yuuji holds you tight by the tacky and bouncy meat of your ass. “love this pussy too much. she’s all mine, just like you are.” the jock snarls, voice so deep you almost fail to recognize it. it lacks his usual chipperness and warmth, replaced only by possession that has you breathless.  “just like ‘m yours…”

“y-yes! mine…” you shriek sweetly, followed by a mumble of his name for the nth time that night as your head hangs low. positively flustered and a teary mess. “fuck, yuu. yuuji please keep going. i wanna, fuck, i wanna cum on your tongue.”

it’s getting harder to keep yourself up, pain stinging in your knees despite how they kneel against a plush feather filled duvet – though its almost as though that had been yuuji;s plan all along. to have eaten you out to the point where every part of you trembles and your muscles feel like nothing but wobbly jello. what he really wants, is for you to let it all go completely and trust in him to get you to the peak of pleasure like you rightfully deserve. it’s like you’re still not quite getting it, still hovering above his earnest mouth like you’re unsure of how much itadori can take, ignoring what he’s willing to do for you. to you. this is more than just sex to him, its about soothing your wounds left so doubt and making you feel so good that you forget they ever existed.

no longer in the mood to tease, itadori lines his mouth up with your sluice center once again – the warmth of his breath only adding a layer of sensitivity of it all. and you realise, that somehow, somewhere there is some kind of higher being that has gifted you this man. the one with the gentle soul and bright smile that lives to devote himself to you – you bucks his hips upwards for some kind of friction against his erection, because he gets so turned on just from you gushing into his mouth like a fruitful stream. yuuji whimpers like a kicked puppy as your taste coats his tongue once again, tangy and sweetly addictive in a way that makes him feel high. dopamine crackles along the tiny gap between skulls and brains a he’s drawn into the succulent delicacy of your pussy. you’re like that first sip of an iced beverage on a hot day, and yuuji must admit – he enjoys the humid atmosphere from underneath tour jersey. small jolts of felicity leap across your synapses like an eclectic current, puling you away from the self doubt that plagues you. leading you into a world where you know that you will always be it, for yuuji itadori. 

it helps that the tip of the pink haired jock’s tongue squirms against the pleasure spots you can’t typically reach on your own. crying to the high heavens for a bit of mercy, you feel walls contract around the base of his pink muscle, stretching to accommodate the thickness there before he wags it back and forth eagerly.  committing to memory each ridge or spot within your silken walls puts you on the verge of exploding. the more itadori takes care of you, the easier it is to succumb to him. trust him. still, your head rolls forward against the small slab of wood that makes up the dorm’s headboards in some form of respite and an attempt to cool yourself down from all the sucking and humping and whining. nonetheless, a trickle of hot desire slips into your system and only itadori can calm it.

yuuji’s movements grow sloppier and pace at which you grind your hips starts to turn uncoordinated, as though you can’t keep up. the whole ordeal remains a mess – like a snake, your boyfriend relaxes his jaw and greedily sucks one of your pussy lips into his saliva packed mouth before offering up the same treatment to the other. he shakes his head between your thighs as he laps at your cute, prominent clit – tongue taut against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. yuuji licks you until you’re practically clean, but then your hips jerk and your eyes roll back and you;re spewing copious amounts of honeyed nectar down his chin once again. from below, he works you up to the highest point of satisfaction, using teeth and tongue in coordinated attacks as though he’s tearing through his final meal.  an orgasm slowly begins to cement inside of you, curated perfectly by tactical flicks agianst your gooey g-spot deep within. yuuji gives and gives until he’s able consume you like an unrelenting forrest fire that swallows up every living thing in it’s bath – be burns through you with a bright orange flame and fries every single nerve ending you possess until you;re left a tingling, gasping mess. the jock is so lost in you, carried away between your godly thighs that he doesn’t even realise how much of you covers him.

he doesn’t seem to mind much, big arms flexing around your middle – one large palm splaying up your spine to bring you downwards. there’s so much slick and arousal in between you, that as his mouth tirelessly works you towards release – it smears along your inner thighs like a crystalised sugar glaze. his cheeks are in no better state with his cheeks and chin in a shimmering whilst cloudy white keeps his lips connected to your slit.

if you’re being honest, you feel so good that it almost seems like the end of the world. everything tilts slightly on his axis – you can barely hear yourself snivel and sob with the blood rushing through your ears and the loud slurps coming from your boyfriend underneath you. exuberance and delectation curdle viscously in your bloodstream, especially when itadori uses his strong grip on you to start bouncing you up and down on the thick circumference of his tongue – thrusting it up into your welcoming little hole as though it were is rock hard dick. the one that you’ve taken so many times now and had to prep yourself for weeks prior in order to swallow every inch down and fully seat yourself on. the sick ‘schlick’ of your pussy increases crudely in volume the harder yuuji laps at you in rapid circles twisting inside – earning him a squeeze to the head with your thighs.

and of course, a precious shout of his name. “y-yuu, yuuji please. t-think ‘m getting close…” you whinge, recognising the rapturous rip through your gut. you still on top of him after a shockwave runs through you, attempting to calm your overwhelmed senses and get back the breath you’ve lost from moaning in whistle tones.

the blush-pink haired jock is also familiar with the signs of your orgasm and suddenly switches tactics. as you, without noticing, rise on your knees to escape the final notes of pleasure – yuuji grabs both of your ass cheeks in bare, veiny hands harshly bringing  you down onto his face and yanks  you back and forth across his wet, panting mouth. “please sit on my fucking face, baby. ride my tongue like you own it,” yuuji begs like he’s a man pleading for his life that hangs in the balance. “i know… god, i know that you’re scared…but you won’t suffocate me. hell, even  if you did, i wouldn’t care. wanna die here, between these pretty thighs tasting this… gorgeous pussy.” maybe it’s the desperation that liters his town like treefall and kindling for the fire of lust crackling within him, but you turn wobbly and limp, unable to resist for much longer.  “holy fuck, so sweet. mnnmm so fuckin’ sweet, honey. taste amazing. can’t even—” the needy groan the jock lets out as you finally, completely sit on his face, inches down your spine deliciously and drowns you in deep depths of ravishment. 

all that wetness, all those juices – you pour them directly into yuuji’s mouth, which overflows like a chalice full of only the finest of wines. he avariciously gulps them down – not even daring to waste a drop as you begin to put your trust in his strength – rapidly rocking yourself back and forth over the swell of his tongue. simpering like an angel, your hand shoots down to scratch at yuuj’s fresh undercut – mussing up the curls of his hair. “yuu, right there. k-keep it there… feels so hot. can’t…” you blubber like a baby, the jock’s cherished baby girl. you sit right there on the edge – the fact glaringly obvious in the quiver of your laments, doused in euphoria and sprinkled with salaciousness. his response is muffled, a howl of idulgence causing a twinge in your pussy when you rut down on his tongue that flickers brutally in and out of your turbidly sticky hole.. “oh my god, your tongue… fuck, yuuji!”

“that’s more like it, baby. s-scream for me, let them hear how good you feel.” he pulls and gulps down some air – spitting onto your sex only just to selfishly suck it up from between your folds. “ride it like it’s yours honey, don’t stop fucking my face until you cum.” he looks just as wrecked as you are, riding his mouth like its meaty cock. yuuji’s cheeks redden even further, the blush spreading like water colour down his neck and chest, indicating how flustered he is by the sway and bounce of your hips. underneath his short, his shaft kicks, coated with so much precum that it might as well have been encapsulated in a white, seedy mess. this is the reality of what you make him feel. his own version of paradise. so turned on by you in the same, delirious state that he’s on the verge of cumming too. brown eyes disappear into the dark depths of his skull, but his grip traverses your body since it knows the way off by heart — hands reaching up through his navy and ruby sports jersey to fondle the soft sway of your breasts and hopefully drag you closer to the edge. “don’t care if i can’t breathe, keep it going. you’re so well on top of me. so pretty, shit.” 

praise seems to be your final straw, yuuji’s warm complement whispered into your abused and ruined pussy being the only thing needed to send you hurtling off the cliff and into your high. static rings true in your ears, a familiar tune that only itadori is able to play for you ad your body succumbs to every lick, suck, kiss and touch it’s received over the course of the evening. all that tense, wound up pressure coiled within your lower belly releases all at once, rendering you a lank and floppy mess above your boyfriend who zealously works to sip and guzzle down the scorching outpour liquor that rains down on him from your palpitating pussy. every doubt and insecutiy you’d felt, about not being good enough to sexually please yuuji is quickly cast away as though it meant nothing. you can’t ignore that yuuji loses himself and his way at the very vision of you fucked out like this.

so drunk on you that he can barely hold back his own orgasm as the first taste of your orgasm hits him. sugary and slightly musky as it splashes across his lips and face. yuuji bursts then and there, following suit. he creams the inside of his shorts with a few shots of white hot seed, a strangled moan vibrating against your sensitive core as he cums with you, his sturdy and well-built body breaking out into its own set of mind-numbing shakes and shivers – moans almost incredulous. 

“my fuckin’ god, I love it when you cum. all over me, all. over. me.” yuuji huffs and punctuates his words with a final lovetap of his tongue against your viscid pulsing mound, not even caring that his lungs are dying for a hit of oxygen from the sex-tainted air. his mouth returns to you, eagerly  pressing kisses to your swollen and abused nub in the hopes of making you cum just like that all over again. “fuck baby, just wanna—“ he hisses, feeling your pretty smaller-than-his fingers tug hard at his mussed orchid coloured locks.

“n-no yuuji! too much.” comes your soft whiny complaint as you tiredly push him back by the roots of his hair. when he lets go, you immediately collapse to his side, breathing uneven but your face completely at ease. relaxed and love struck, until you perk up with realisation.”w-wait! yuu! did you want – um…” 

carefully, your hand inches down the swell of his thigh but a calloused and larger one is quick to snap it up at the wrist. “did i need your help?” itadori asks softly, overcome with simple affection at your large doe-like eyes searching his face. “nuh uh baby, came already.”

“you…did?” you blink.

“in my shorts,” itadori bashfully responds. “you’re just that sexy and hot and pretty when you’re on top of me, honey. can’t help it, you make me so hard.”

“oh…” looking down at the now prominent wet patch at the crotch of his loose basket ball shorts, you squeak in surprise – part satisfied and part shocked that your boyfriend was able to cum untouched, right alongside you. your heart sings. yuuji itadori really does love you.

“god, you’re so stinkin’ cute!” yuuji rolls onto his side to face you, peppering it with kisses and linking your fingers tightly. “i could just eat you up!”

this time, you duck your head into his neck – much shier than before. “lets wait a little bit, yuuji. ‘m sensitive.”

“so i’m not hearing a no…” your boyfriend pipes up. “how long is a little bit, exactly?”

he’s rolling his massive frame on top of you before you can even blink – arms either side of your head as airy light laughter bubbling up on your lips when you realise he’s half hard against your thigh and his damp puce pink hair is tickling at your neck ever so slightly. itadori already leaving an array of possessive hickies along the column of it. 

“yuuji! gosh, you just ate!”

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[tonycries]

Older - N.K.

Synopsis. Your duties as a nanny are simple: pick Itadori Yuji up from elementary school, bathe him, feed him his veggies, and take care of him until his hot blond dad gets home. It doesn’t include something like…spending Valentine’s Day with the overworked, overstressed, absolute DlLF Nanami Kento. Does it? Does it?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, older!Nanami, age gap, DlLF!Nanami, reader is in early 20’s, Nanami is in 30’s, he’s overworked and STRESSED, down bad!Nanami, desperation, Valentine’s Day, pùssydrùnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, punishments, dégrading but also soft Nanami, spítting, bíting, fíngering, yearning, teaching you, fírst times (yours), Iessons, talking you through it, he’s stern, he’s BIG, BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG, matíng presses, manhandIing, cervíx smoochin, overstím, vírginíty loss (yours), corruption, he’s feraI, DÚMBIFlCATION, calling you ‘momma’, mentions of kids, implied marathon, HEADLÓCKS, creampíes, cúmpIay, Yuji cameos, Papamin, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.7k

A/N. BOO! SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY POST?! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABYGIRLS <33

Nanami can’t help but sigh—“One more meeting and I’m quitting.”

Even though he knows he wouldn’t.

Those boxed-in, white-collar jobs felt just as lukewarm to quit as they were to work. One learns to numb oneself to the constant drone and sputter of the office, the ceaseless fury of a microwave that wouldn’t heat, and the wail of a printer printing listlessly furlong - too far behind its service date. So was there even a point?

That stupid screech followed him even out of the office: one could ignore the cracks and jolts of joints, but that doesn’t actually stop the noise.

He feels a headache coming on.

But Nanami can’t lie- the pay wasn’t all too bad. Besides, the extra hours helped him pay for the nanny he’d recently hired for Yuji—speaking of, he could hear you shuffling about inside.

His key’s just reaching for the door before it swings wide open.

“Welcome home—!”

And Nanami Kento can’t understand that strange, sweet flutter in his heart.

One of his hands jerks upwards- right to the pounding space above his heart. He knows he must look a bit of a sight right now - a grown man pawing at his chest - and part of him wonders whether this was all the all-nighters taking a toll on him. About time.

But another part of him wonders whether he should consult a cardiologist.

Also about time.

Because it’s been like this ever since he hired you - the vetting process for finding a nanny had been a long and tedious one. And Nanami had rejected (he’s sure) at least fifty different candidates, had been blocked by five different agencies, before he finally landed on you. Either they’d been too strict, or too lenient, or too new, or simply not cut out to handle the benevolent whirlwind that was his adopted son.

The poor man had been on the verge of giving up.

In fact, he was two paragraphs into an email to HR whilst stress-eating a homemade Danish pastry and wondering whether buying his boss flowers would be overkill- when it happened. God, could this day get any worse? First his manager gives him a ton of work just before he clocked off, certainly not in his list of responsibilities, then he’d burned those damn Danish pastries, then one of the nannies he’d interviewed had nearly passed out at the sheer energy Yuji had.

He’d been working more and more these days. And Nanami needed just a few more months - a few more nights putting in overtime before he could-

It was then that the doorbell had rang.

Ba-dump! 

He opened the door tentatively, hoping that it wasn’t yet another ambush by a salesperson - each with their bright plastic garbage, and their even brighter smiles. But what he’d been met with instead wasn’t one of those visitors he dreaded…not in the very least. It was you—

And your explanation that you were here because of Shoko.

“Erm- she told me that you were looking for a nanny?” You flashed your conversation with Nanami’s clinical friend as proof. He flickered his gaze over to the screen but his eyes remained unreading—he remembers turning them back over to you.

Blinking at the vision of you.

And you’d slightly jolted at the intensity in them.

Digging through your pin-covered bag, “I also have my CV in here…somewhere.” He watched as you only grew more and more frustrated as that CV evaded you- “It really should be somewhere- give me one second-”

“That’s alri-”

But instead of your CV, your bag had poured out notes and pens in return. So much of it that Nanami marvelled at just how much fit inside that humble satchel. They dropped to the floor and you dived to pick them up, wincing. “I’m so- sorry-”

“Let me.” Crouching down in front of you, Nanami’s much-larger hands had had no trouble scooping all those papers up. In an instant he had them aligned neatly and handed to you. Prim. Proper.

By the tie still ‘round his neck, you guessed he’d just come home from work - and little did you know he’d also just finished four failed interviews for the position of nanny - yet he didn’t have a single blond hair out of line. They were slicked-back and handsome in a way you’d seen only in old movie stars. You thought you saw a few strands of silver.

Lines at the edges of his eyes. That tired strength about him.

It was hard to not ogle him.

Your fingertips brushed his rougher ones as you took the papers from him. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” The older man peered down at you—so intense that you could almost feel yourself sinking into the mediocre polyester carpet lining the apartment hallway. Neither of you made a move to get up. “I want to ask you about your availability.”

You’d jumped slightly. “You…you actually want to hire me after that- I mean!”

“Should I not?” And what was this? Nanami Kento had to stifle a chuckle at that? How curious…it must’ve been the work day getting to him at that point- yes. He was feeling a little delirious.

“I mean- please do…”

He’d looked away with a slight smile once you reached into the depths of your bag once more. This time, you didn’t make it erupt in scribbled notes- instead you were pulling out a printed table that looked to be a time table. “Sorry I just- printing makes it easier for me to remember…sometimes.” You explained, “I don’t have any lectures on Wednesday and Friday- and the ones I have on the rest of the weekdays are rather flexible so—”

A college student!

Nanami’s jaw had dropped then.

He knew you looked young but-

A college student?!

“Wait a minute…” One of his hands twitched, almost as if to beckon that time table to himself and make sure.

But then you nodded, “I first met Shoko-san during a medical conference she gave at the university, and she told me you worked late on weekdays. I should be free in the evenings then, but will you be working late on the weekends as well? Because I do have this one professor that really-”

Nanami didn’t know how on Earth the topic of him would’ve even cropped up in your conversations- but he needed to end this.

Now.

Listen. It wasn’t that you seemed like a bad kid- you seemed great, even! But Nanami himself was well into his thirties with absolutely zero idea on balancing Yuji and his work life. So he really didn’t want to burden someone over a decade younger than him with-

“Papa?”

The sweetest, sleepiest voice echoed from inside.

He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Itadori was swaying, all decked-out in his Spiderman pajamas, at the end of the hallway. Likely having gotten out for water or because of the ruckus caused outside. He blinked his sluggish eyes open and ogled the two of you.

Nanami doesn’t know why- but he shoots up to a stand. Almost as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

You followed.

Which one of you three was the responsible parent here, by the way?

His parched mouth opened to—what? There was nothing to explain. 

It was true that Nanami hadn’t had the time to even stop and think about dating or relationships in the time since he’d adopted Yuji. Not even if he wanted to. And, admittedly, he did have dreams of getting married one day - he watched all those sappy TV shows, alright? He knew how it felt.

He wanted to walk beside someone to that shrine. He wanted to have a few more kids, to give Yuji a bigger family than this. He wanted to quit his dead-end job and move out with his family to a bigger house in the countryside. 

But none of that was as important as his son right now.

However, he knew that Yuji saw all those happy couples during pick-up at the elementary school- and his boy was sweet. The sweetest, actually. Nanami knew that Yuji wouldn’t say a single thing about him being the only exhausted father to arrive all alone. Day after day.

The two of them in their lonesome.

His sweet boy would beam the biggest smile nevertheless. 

But kids were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Doesn’t he feel that loneliness, too? 

Perhaps that was why Yuji ran up to you in an instant.

Right past his haggard father and only towards you - all previous sleepiness now gone - he reached up towards the pretty stranger with the pretty pin-covered bag.

Stubby finger pointing up at a particularly red one—“Do you like Spwiderman, too?”

“Of course.” Leaning down, you smiled warmly at the boy. His hair was a rose-colored mess that stuck up at all odd angles. “And my spidey senses are telling me that a certain someone does, too?”

He gasped, “That’s me!”

Before Nanami knows it, you were held hostage and dragged inside by a particularly overactive pink-haired boy. Shown all around the apartment as part of your tour to be shown-off Yuji’s prized Spiderman-themed bedroom. 

And unbeknownst to him - against that lock-and-key and jaded guard - you’d walked into Nanami Kento’s cozy Tokyo apartment (and the strange cavity in his chest that softened whenever you were around).

He sighed.

A college student!

Still, Nanami can’t deny that it’s been a delight having you around.

Despite your packed schedule and your note-filled bag, you were always there to greet him when he came home. Without fail. Either tapping away at some assignment due before midnight, or humming to yourself as you wiped down the kitchen counters—last minute fluffy pancake emergency, he thinks of those nights.

Even though it’d been about eight months since your initial meeting, it’s almost fearsome how easily he’d gotten used to the routine of it all.

Something that should be so mundane - he flips each moment through his mind over and over again until it felt like they made up the grooves of his brain itself. The gyri and the sulci. Or so he’d heard you muttering to yourself as you studied one night. 

He’s studied, too. He’s memorized how you’d open the door for him, with a smile across your face and a finger to your lips- telling the older man to be quiet as he shook off his shoes. He’s memorized how you’d never fail to tell him about the leftovers in the fridge as you reached for your satchel. He’s memorized how you’d hesitate to meet his gaze- but smile the brightest once you do, and how you’d linger at the doorstep telling him about Yuji’s day.

Nanami has memorized how it made some dust-covered part of his heart stir. Blinking away the exhaustion of the day. 

Nanami Kento has never felt more invigorated than he is during those sparse few minutes that he caught up with you at the end of the night. Voices low, like neither of you wanted to interrupt a sleeping thing—Yuji, yes. But something else, too.

He gets the feeling that it’d feel like this even if you weren’t around as a job. If perhaps the two of you had met- the same age, at the same university.

Maybe in-between the sluggish hours of study sessions where you help him with some particularly hard question. Maybe in the library where he helps you reach some dusty ol’ book from the topmost shelf.

Times like this, he allows himself to dream.

You’d make the best wife.

You were the best nanny he could’ve ever chosen.

But one always has to wake up to one’s alarm. He sets his alarms himself.

“Come in.” Nanami tells you as he shrugs off his coat at the entrance. He watches as you stop in your tracks at the doorway, fiddling with your familiar pin-draped bag. “I’m just about to fire up some brownies for tomorrow.”

You pause.

“I-if it’s not too late and you don’t have any classes early tomorrow or-”

“I’d skip all my classes for some of your brownies.”

He lets out a breath of relief as you start walking back from the doorway. “Please don’t.”

It takes a little less than half an hour for the brownies to bake until they are crisp on the top and perfectly gooey in the middle. Layers of chocolate that are only sweetened by the conversation that you brought into Nanami Kento’s humble kitchen. 

He listens as you talk about your day, about that professor that’d been out to get you, about that exam you were sure you’d fail (he knows you won’t in the end). Only adding brief hums of affirmation and nods as the older man sweeps through his counters, broad back turned to you, muscles flexing against his office shirt as he whipped up a hot fudge as well as a strawberry sauce for you to add to your brownies.

“—and you’d never guess what Yuji told me today.” Tonight you seem a little more breathless than usual. Stuttering out your thank-yous as he brings out the tray from the oven and cuts out the first piece for you.

“Blow on it. It’s hot.” Nanami leans over the other side of the kitchen island. He watches as your pretty lips fall into a soft circle, “What were you saying, my dear?”

“Well-” You dart your gaze around the rest of the empty apartment. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, Nanami-san?”

Nanami runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Smoothing it down. He knows how his son can be, and he has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across his face. “Mhm?”

“Yuji here seems to think that- well…” Bringing a hand up to your lips, fingertips slightly shaking. The brownie was just amazing. “He seems to think that Valentine’s Day is a bit like Christmas, you see. And so the entire day he wouldn’t stop making a list for Cupid.”

Now that piques his interest particularly- Nanami was never a man to skimp out whenever his loved one wanted something. “Oh, is that so? And what does he ask from this ah- Cupid?”

“That is- I don’t even know if this is appropriate for me to say but…” Looking around one last time. “But it seems Yuji is under the impression that we are together.”

“Oh.”

“Together together.”

“Oh.” He can’t help but inch just a little closer- a strange weight in his stomach. Not entirely unpleasant. “I see.”

You’re mustering up a little more courage, “And it seems that what Yuji wants the most this Valentine’s is…for us to get married. Spiderman-themed wedding, he says.” Watching as Nanami’s eyes slightly widen. “B-but of course, I told him that that might not exactly be in erm- Cupid’s range of power! He kept insisting however-”

He looks at you silently as you rub your temples.

“Because then he said a little brother or sister would be fine, too…” Was it time for the conversation about the birds and the bees already? Instead of storks, Yuji relies on Cupid?!

Nanami follows suit, running a hand through the silver streaks in his hair. “Is that so?” He sighs. “I shall have a little talk with him about asking…immoderate requests of Cupid.”

“He’s a sweet boy. Just a little confused.” You smile sheepishly. “Though I can’t really blame him- my friends think we’re together, too.”

Just an inch closer. “I see.”

And Nanami feels your breathing go heavy- enveloped in the hint of his cologne, the sweetness of the brownies, the musk of something that was entirely him. “I-it’s silly, isn’t it…”

He stares at you intently, reading your every reaction. “Quite.” Pupils flickering down your face. Just another inch closer—you wonder how much more space was left, and what you wanted to do with it. “I’m far too old for you, my dear.”

Your lips part-

The clock strikes eleven.

Both of you startle as if shocked with electricity- “I-I really should-”

“Yes, I understand-”

“The brownies were amazing-”

“Please, take this.” He pushes a bag topped with that delicacy and more of whatever topping you liked into your hands.

“Thank you so much.” You rush out breathlessly, other hand snatching your bag from the counter. “Night, Nanami-san—!”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

“And thank you for the brownies!”

The door shuts—with a lingering creak and ebb of your smile behind it. And soon enough Nanami finds himself lumbering in the direction of Yuji’s bedroom.

It’s not long before he stands before the parade of red and blue and masked superheroes: personnel stationed all to take care of the boy with a tuft of pink hair. His precious treasure. Nestled in the middle of his car-shaped bed. 

A small bedside light traces a glow across his chubby cheeks.

As he does every night, Nanami walks up to the little boy and crouches down beside the bed. Forearms rested upon the soft mattress, face rested upon his forearms- it was always around this time that Yuji would stir and look up at his father.

“Papa…” He sleepily mumbles. Rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes, “Gone?”

“Mhm.” Nanami nods. “Left just now, sunshine.”

“Awww, man—” Yuji seems to deflate- but that only pushes him deeper into the puffy pillows. Making him yawn so wide that it makes the older man chuckle. “I really like her, papa.”

His father pauses before he answers. “I like her, too, Yuji.”

“No, but- I really like her. You know, she’s my best friend along with Kugisaki and Fushiguro and you-”

Nanami starts tickling the boy on his sides until he bursts into peels of laughter. “Really, huh?”

Through giggles, he nods. Before stretching his arms above his head and falling back onto the comfy bed- perhaps he was still dreaming. “Why can’t we keep her, papa?”

“We can’t just keep people, Yuji.” Nanami has to hide his own smile. He knows he should mention the thing about Cupid right now, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe tomorrow…

“Yes, but…”

“I know, I know.” Nanami pushes his face deeper into his strong forearms. Sometimes, he still felt much like a kid himself. “I get it.”

.

.

.

The next morning, Yuji still wasn’t giving up.

“Papa, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Papa was about to burst a blood vessel.

He’d chattered on and on about Valentine’s Day as Nanami shuffled him out of bed, he’d announced what chocolates were the best according to his very distinguished five-year-old palate as Nanami helped him brush his teeth—he’d even turned his nose up at the heart-shaped scones that Nanami had made for breakfast.

“Papa, you’re gonna hafta make better hearts than this if you want to marry-”

“Yuji, sunshine, we’re going to be late.” 

Nanami Kento was barely a match for his son. And it’s with something akin to relief - like the exhausted sigh of a stranded man, finally coming across the silhouette of a rescue boat in the bleak horizon - that he manages to hurry the boy into finishing his breakfast. Tuggin’ on his Spiderman backpack, Nanami held Yuji’s hand as they exited the apartment.

Today wasn’t even a school day.

It wasn’t even a school day! And yet the teacher wanted all students in for a short assembly and some chocolate party in class. Nanami would be damned if he didn’t let his son enjoy these small pleasures. 

The elementary school that Yuji attended was only a short distance away from the apartment- usually they’d just make the trip by foot. During those ten minutes it’d become routine for the little boy to jabber away about whatever came to his mind.

How unfortunate for Nanami Kento today that, today, all Yuji could think about was you—

Not because Nanami wasn’t doing much the same- but because he didn’t like thinking of himself as doing much the same. Even though he knew. Query: if both father and son couldn’t get you off their minds, then which one of the two was going to use it?

The older man shakes his head just a little as Yuji suggests a Spiderman wedding cake again—he disagrees with both the cake and…the wedding. Right?

But the boy catches the movement and pouts-

“Why don’t you want to tell her, papa?”

They’re stopping at a red light. Nanami didn’t want to think about how those miniscule bulbs had been programmed to flicker in the shape of a heart today, instead of the usual pedestrian walking. What an apt metaphor for his life, no? Nanami Kento wanted to find something wrong in the traffic light - in the visibility, the practicality, the color - but he couldn’t. 

In fact, it was rather pretty. 

The crossing threatened to bubble over with salarymen and salarywomen and groups of families each hoping to be the first, the fastest, to jump the road. He tugs both himself and Yuji more towards the back where they were well out of the way of whizzing cars. Is it just him or were there more wedding cars than usual today?

“Tell her what? To marry me?” He absent-mindedly answers, “What did I say about no forced marriages, Yuji?”

“No.” He lightly stomps his feet. Making the blond man look down- “I mean why don’t you tell her that you like her, papa?”

And Nanami can’t help but look around like a caught teenager. “You- you can’t just say those things, sunshine! What if she’s heading to class and nearby…”

“But you told me you did last night?” Yuji answers.

Which, fair. And it leaves Nanami slightly at a loss for words. “I…”

“But why can’t you tell her?” The child nods sagely to himself, “S’like when I broke Fushiguro’s red crayon- and I told him. Don’t you always tell me not to lie, papa?”

“That’s…true.” His father hesitates. “But that’s different from-”

“But anyway- that’s why I asked Cupid.” Yuji hums. Content. “You’re a scwaredy-cat, papa, but I asked Cupid for you. Like Santa. And Santa always gives me what I ask for.”

One day, Nanami will consider telling him that Santa had to work a month overtime to get him that car bed—happily however. But that day’s not today. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “And I also asked Cupid for a bwother- maybe this year I should ask Santa, too.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think Cupid will make my wishes come true, papa?”

“I’m…afraid I can’t be sure, sunshine.”

The light turns green.

And Nanami’s the first to step out onto the road.

From here, even the crosswalk seemed to twist and turn into the shapes of hearts.

Along the rest of the way to his elementary school, Yuji tugs on Nanami’s coat and asks him for his phone—“Alright, but no games before school, Yuji.”

“Not playing games!”

And he didn’t think much of it.

Not until Nanami was on the subway heading to work, about to shoot a phone call to one of the contractors he’d be working with today- and he finds Shoko’s name in his call log.

Outgoing call → Shoko [8:01AM]

Lasted three minutes.

How strange. Nanami doesn’t remember calling his friend at any point today - it must’ve been Yuji during his walk to school. 

A mistake?

How strange, indeed…

But to be quite honest, Nanami doesn’t get the time to ponder upon this happening too deeply. The very second he’d considered clicking on that name himself and asking Shoko- the train had slid to a halt at his station.

Then came the chaos of the office: it seems that one of the interns had forgotten to fax a file yesterday. And Nanami had five angry clients on the phone before 9:00AM, one presentation to lead before 10:00AM, a few more angry clients just after the meeting, and a few more contracts to type up and edit before 12:00AM. Those utterly gaudy pink decorations hung about the room didn’t do anything to help with his oncoming headache.

Everyone in the office knew not to wish him today.

By the time that the overworked man was free for lunch, it was close to 2:00PM. His joints pop as he stretches his arms above his head, flickering a look at the clock above.

It was almost time for Yuji to be let out. Nanami knew you’d be humming to yourself as you walked to his school - and if his son was there, he’d join in, too.

At risk of sounding like a creep, he admits that he’s often listened to the low drift of your voice as you walked out of his apartment. It would start up once he shut that door. And he often stood there - on the other end - until it disappeared. Along with the sound of your footsteps.

His house always seemed smaller then.

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nanami stands and walks out of his department, wondering what he’ll have for lunch today. This usually wasn’t a problem with him, but this morning he’d been rather a bit…frazzled. So to say.

All those questions and ‘requests’ that Yuji had left him with just barely enough rationality to scrounge up something for the boy. As for himself, he was meandering through the busy streets of Tokyo - tarmac carpets flying by at a pace faster than he ever seemed to be able to. How was it possible for something inanimate to soar, to race, to live more than he did? Was it always built this way or was he one of the unlucky few?

He wonders which category you’d fall into.

That cheap ramen shop down the street wasn’t too bad - their broth was so good that Nanami was almost able to ignore the sappy love songs crooned from their battered radio. They had a special deal going: 80% off for all couples on Valentine’s Day! All ribbons and glitter. All special pink desserts and lovers holding hands. All love…love and a happy elderly couple behind the counter - the owners, it seems.

It was quaint- cute. The type of place he thinks you might like.

As he was walking back to the office, it seemed as though the city was fit to brim with similar sentiments. 

Flower shops bursting with bouquets like carnivorous sunsets, bleeding hearts and ruby-red roses. Candy shops with something sweet for every color of the rainbow—and more covert advertisements for more…adult indulgences. Sex shops that Nanami had to speed-walk past because of how full and flush they were. Ripe with Valentine’s Day.

Nanami Kento might try to ignore what today is, but the world sure as hell wouldn’t let him forget.

Once he finally runs back to his cubicle- he ducks his head and focuses his eyes solely on the computer screen. He hopes no one comments on the numerous glitzy bags beside him.

.

.

.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“Y’know- most people would say—‘Wow, it’s so nice to see you. Now I should totally stop brushing off your invites for drinks. Thank you for being such a kind and respectful and understanding friend, Ieri Shoko.’” The woman in question stretches languorously on top of the couch, her test tube-patterned socks dangling from the other side. “And you’re welcome, by the way!”

Nanami raises one hand in front of him- almost as if to pause the scene entirely. He closes his eyes—when he opens them, he hopes that this had all been a bad dream and he’ll wake up to his glaring computer screen.

He opens them.

Nope- still real.

“Let me rephrase- what the hell have you done to my apartment?”

Shoko gets off the couch and gestures at the apartment like a magician showing off a trick. “Ta-da!” At all the yellow candles that cast miniature sunrises where they wept, at the music that crept sensually from some mysterious corner of the room, at the humble dining table that now looked like it came out of a Times’ 10 Best Spots To Take Your Lover for Valentine’s Day. 

Nanami’s stern lips part as he takes in the silver-covered dishes on top, on top of some white cloth—was that his goddamn blanket?!

“Oh c’mon-” Shoko rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, I see the bouquet in your hands. You obviously planned something of the sort.”

He forgot about that damn thing. Nearly dropping those flowers in his haste to hide it behind his broad back, though there was really no use - he simply couldn’t stand Shoko’s laughing eyes any longer. “Th-this was for Yuji.”

“I see the smaller bouquet in the bag.” She points out. Almost empathetically, Shoko sighs. “You really aren’t slick, Kento.”

“This isn’t- this is just—” But the longer she smirks at him, the less he seems to have an answer. Soon enough, he’s bringing out that massive bouquet from behind him and letting his friend fawn over the thing.

“Wow, she’s really going to love this-”

“It’s called being nice, by the way!” Nanami answers, belatedly.

The look Shoko gives him is enough to make him click his mouth shut.

“I hope you know that I bought one to give you tomorrow…I’m throwing it out now.” Because no matter how much Nanami denied it, today was about love. Parental. Platonic. Even the love that he could never have. As Shoko rummages through the bag with an excited squeak, he drawls on. “Where even is she, by the way? What have you done to her?”

“Hm? Oh, Yuji called me this morning. Thank you for these, by the way.” Shoko stands with a beautiful yellow rose and purple zinnia bouquet in her arms. She sniffs at the sweet fragrance- “Yuji called me asking whether he should leave out cookies for Cupid just like he does with Santa. It seems he wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding, and guess what? I wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding.” Her face breaks out into a smug smile - the one he’s only seen when she used to cheat through biochemistry exams without anyone ever knowing. “So we called up your darling nanny and let her know that her schedule’s changed for today- then Yuji and I did a little sprucing up in here.”

“Sprucing up…”

She turns around to admire her work, “Honestly, Kento, if I knew that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body then I’d have dissected you-‘

“Papa!”

Spared from hearing whatever gory plans that Shoko had for him by the excited yelp of his son—Nanami hears his footsteps before he sees him. He feels the impact before he sees him.

Yuji’s running down the hallway and launching himself at his father at full speed- “Papa, you’re home!”

“That I am, sunshine.” Nanami smiles down at the boy. “How was your day? I have something for you.”

“For me?” Tufts of pink curls bobbing as he cocks his head, following his father’s movements as Nanami crouches down and reaches into one of the bags. Before breaking out into the most brilliant smile at the sight of the flowers. “Woah- they’re so pretty—! Thank you.”

Crushing the bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangea to his chest, he wraps his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and hugs him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, papa. I’ve got a gift for you, too-” Breaking away, Yuji’s throwing an arm out towards the room at large. “Auntie Shoko said this was how you bring Cupid! And we also tried to make those heart-shaped cupcakes you make, but it tasted like tar so…”

“That’s perfectly alright, Yuji.” He swipes at a smear of icing still on the boy’s face. “We can learn together on my next day off, right?”

“Right!” Yuji jumps in excitement. “And after your wedding today-‘

“Yuji…”

“And right on time.” Shoko’s voice permeates the room- right alongside the sharp fwip! of the window shutters closing. She turns away from the glass and pushes off from her station. “C’mon Yuji, now the plan is a-go! Go! Go!”

“Aye-aye!” With a chubby hand raised in salute—Yuji wastes no time giving his father a final hug. “Bye bye, papa.”

“Wha-” Nanami looks at the harried duo in confusion. “What are you two-”

“And don’t mess this up, Kento.” Shoko gives him a stern wave. 

Before she clasps Yuji’s hand and helps the boy match her longer stride- the two of them speed-walk in the direction of the door.

“Yeah- don’t mess this up, papa!”

“Uh, where are you taking my son?” Nanami stalks after them. Not letting the front door close behind them, he watches the two figures - bouquets and all - race down the hallway. How strange that they didn’t take the usual route - instead opting for the one that would let them leave through the back entrance. “Hello? Shoko-”

“Don’t mess this up!”

He has half the mind to chase after them - it’s not that he doesn’t trust Shoko with his son, but really, what on Earth could they be getting up to?! Especially so late past Yuji’s bedtime. At the very least, maybe he could run up to them and let Shoko know of his son’s Spiderman ritual before eating and the tendency he has to bite fingers when-

“Nanami-san?”

Your voice.

Was he dreaming?

And yet—Nanami snaps his head towards the source of the noise so fast that it almost causes whiplash. He breathes your name out in a whisper.

So this is what Shoko meant about-

“Am I hallucinating or is that Shoko-san and Yuji running down the fire escape?” You point at something beyond his line of vision, though Nanami doesn’t need to look to know that it is, in fact, Shoko and Yuji running down the fire escape.

“I think I’m hallucinating, to be quite honest.” He mutters. Because surely there was no conceivable world in which he would see you like this - standing outside his door on Valentine’s Day, looking all gorgeous as you always did - and dare to bring out the bouquet that he had bought for you. Also was that…was that a bit of make-up you’d dabbed on? More so than usual?

His eyes linger on the glitter beside your eyes.

The thought that it might’ve been because it’s today - that it might’ve been because you’d been as nervous about seeing him today as he was about seeing you - makes him jolt. He’d been smoothing his hair down the entire subway ride home thinking of you.

Thirty-something years and he’s acting like a teenager in puppy love.

Certainly no conceivable world…

And yet…he does. He reaches behind him to bring out that prideful bouquet: 520 flower-heads that blushed themselves silly over not being even half as beautiful as you.

“For you.” He croaks out. Awkwardly pushing up his glasses. 

“Oh.” Your jaw drops, and the bouquet weighs heavy in your hands. In nothing but a whisper- “It’s beautiful, Nanami-san.”

Red, red roses.

.

.

.

Nanami explained the situation before he invited you in…somewhat.

Certainly nothing about how badly he’d been teased because of this little scheme or the ah- confession of feelings. Heavens, no! Nanami himself wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d go along with their plan…

As far as you knew, Shoko and Yuji thought it’d be a funny little prank to ‘invite Cupid’ into his apartment this Valentine’s Day. Leaving the two of you alone in an apartment draped in candles and roses like the most deviant of mistresses. 

And Nanami knew you knew. You knew that Nanami knew.

The implications were there for all to see.

It was there in the way his face burned red, and Nanami couldn’t meet your eyes- “I’m aware of how it looks. And it seems that my son still holds the idea that erm…either way, ahem, I completely understand if you would much rather go home. Please do know that this will not affect your job in any way whatsoever- in fact, I will cover your fee double tonight-”

“Nanami-san.” You’d interrupted him. Cocking your head with a slight smile, “May I come in?”

From there he’d been the perfect gentleman - not that he wasn’t usually. Even in the months since you’d worked for him, you’d come to find that Nanami was the type of man that opened doors for you, that pushed your chair for you, that covered your taxi fare home, that escorted you as far as he could by foot either way.

But now…oh, right now he was putting any Prince Charming to shame.

He had his hand hoverin’ right above your waist- leading you inside to the romantic dinner table. Here, he’d pushed your chair for you—and before you could even thank him, Nanami had his hands helping you out of your coat. 

He insisted on plating for you.

You couldn’t help but gawk at the way his biceps pushed against his work button-up, flexing slightly as Nanami stood beside the table and neatly cut your bread - one he’d baked just this morning, according to him. Shoko had clearly rummaged through his kitchen well…

Conversation was somewhat breathless at first- the both of you waiting for the other to go first. The both of you anticipating every single word.

Wondering what every single word meant.

But after the first two courses - Shoko certainly hadn’t burned these - the both of you were talking freely. Moving on from the more polite topics, like your day, his day, that were really a front for something more - speaking with Nanami was always so easy, he was the best listener you’ve had in a while—to dessert: strawberry shortcake cupcakes and a confession that slips from your lips. 

“Y’know- this is the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending like this.” You giggle, wiping off the cream that sticks to your lips. Nanami watches with half-lidded eyes as you devour the delicacy he’d baked this morning.

He swirls his half-empty wine glass. Certainly not enough to get the man tipsy - Nanami was quite the heavy drinker when he wanted to be - but enough to make him ask. “Oh? Tell me more, my dear.”

The candlelight catches on the rim of his glasses, encasing his eyes in an intense glow. You think he looks even more handsome like this- “Sorry. It’s probably going to sound stupid to someone more experienced…”

“There is nothing you’d say that would be stupid.” He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose. Fingers crossing before him, he leans in. “Continue, my dear.”

“It’s just- I haven’t had many serious relationships, is what.” You admit. And he looks at you so intently- “With life and university, it’s hard to find the time—if I was looking anyways, that is.” You sputter, before he can ask anything about whether the nanny job was cutting into your time. “The selection in my department isn’t great at all.”

“So…” Nanami runs the tip of his finger ‘round that glass cup. The thin rim. The gaping mouth. “-no lil’ boyfriend, then?”

“No boyfriend.” You echo. And perhaps being drunk on the proximity is what makes you blurt out- “But if I did have one, I think I’d like someone older—”

He quirks a brow in interest, “Older?”

You nod. Crossing your arms in slight embarrassment, “Boys my age will ask you out and then go halfsies just because you don’t want to go home with them.”

“Mhmm.” Nanami’s lip curls in distaste.

“I just want someone to like me for me- y’know? Just to sit across from me like this and really talk to me for once.”

“Has no boy ever wined and dined you like this?” He asks.

“No.” You admit, somewhat sheepishly.

“Has no boy ever bought you flowers?”

“No.” You cast a look at the 520 roses - now housed in a large vase that Nanami had pulled out from one of his cabinets.

“No…” You breathe.

He inches forwards, forwards, forwards—and wipes at a remnant of sweet, sweet cream on your lips. That roughened edge of Nanami’s thumb grazes the edge of your mouth. “Has no boy ever been sweet to you like this?” He catches the look in your eyes. And his own lower. “Has no boy ever treated you like a man would, my dear?”

The older man doesn’t hesitate in reaching his thumb back up to his mouth- and lickin’ off the cream. “Has no boy ever eaten you out like this?”

“No-”

Your lips upon his are even sweeter than the cupcakes he’s baked- and he’s lavishin’ his tongue over your mouth gently. Opening you up so wide—

And even that isn’t enough.

Nanami’s thumb finds permanent purchase at the end of your chin, letting his own sinful tongue slip inside. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Almost as if he was fucking you with it-

You’re not sure how long Nanami’s kissing you like this. 

Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.

You’ve lost track of time- and the only thing you know is that your head feels dizzy. Your knees were growing weak in your seat. A slick line of spittle glides down the side of your mouth- and Nanami reaches a thumb up to smeeear it.

“My dear…” He murmurs, his deep baritone taking on a husky tone. Hot breath fans across your face, heating you up from the inside out.

You’re raising your face to meet his molten gaze- and it almost shocked you just how handsome Nanami Kento is. Noble features chiselled in the soft candlelight. His mouth slightly kiss-swollen. Blond hair unravelling from his usual neat style n’ cascading across his forehead. 

He reaches closer to you and siiinks his teeth into your lower lip, “Have you ever been kissed like that- here before?”

You squirm. Shaking your head-

But he tugs on your pretty maw. “Tell me in words, honey.”

Gulping as one of his rugged hands snakes down your middle. A carnal jolt echoes through your body once Nanami presses the edge of his palm between your skirt- your legs. “I…” You think of all the disappointing dates you’ve been on before, of all the disappointing hands in places almost forgettable. “Not like that, Nanami-san.”

“Now now—when we fuck, call me Kento.” He mutters, finally making his way ‘round the table. Before you know it, he’s looming over you- and two of his strong hands rest underneath your legs. “Upsy daisy.” 

He’s lifting you uuuuuup, up, up to splay out across the dinner table.

Lifting you like you weighed nothing.

Pushing aside first and foremost those plates and flowers- you’re being rolled with your back against the tabletop, and Nanami’s honed hips pinning you down. A dimly-lit halo of light behind his golden hair. He wastes no time before throwing both legs of yours on top of his shoulders- “M’gonna teach you how a real man eats pussy.”

You nod-

“First lesson. Big girls use their words.” 

And your jaw drops—

“K-Kento—”

You’re not sure whether the primal noise escapes you because of his words, his tone, or because of the utterly desperate way that Nanami Kento falls to his knees. Thud!

Loud enough that it should hurt- but you don’t think it even registers in Nanami’s frenzied brain right now. 

Not when he was pushing up that damn sinful skirt of yours- extra tight tonight. Nanami wasn’t a fool - he knew what you were doing. Not when he was starin’ deeply at your pussy, all wet through your panties and throbbing so hard he could practically see it.

Count it.

One-two-three. 

Not when he was worshipping you as close as a man possibly could—“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” Then the next thing you’re hearing is a sudden thwack! The next thing you’re feeling are the five pointed tips of Nanami’s thick fingers, smacking down on top of your pussy. “But I’ll let it slide since s’your first time being eaten out all properly, mhm?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“What was that?” Those mean fingertips of his raise again.

“Yes, Kento.” You’re hurrying to answer. And just as a little reward, Nanami smears his digits atop your swollen folds. 

“That’s more like it.” The glaze of your sweetened slick lets out the loudest squelch, and you squirm as he’s tuggin’ aside your panties with a single index. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes-”

“Are you excited, my dear?”

“Yes-”

“Good girl.”

Let the feast begin, he’s thinking. And Nanami Kento doesn’t wait. Nanami Kento doesn’t tease n’ toy. Nanami Kento doesn’t even swivel his fingertips around your wet hole more than a few times to check how soaked you are before he’s taking what he wants—he doesn’t have the damn time for anything else. 

He’d been starving for far too long.

And the closer n’ closer he gets to your pussy, the more his mouth waters. 

Nanami’s left drooling at the mere sight of your wet fuckin’ hole—you swear you could hear his stomach start to growl. Fuck.

He gulps.

He takes a single sniff. 

With a sudden lurch - like he couldn’t hold it back any longer - he leans up and shoves his face nose-deep between your legs.

His tongue swiping your hole, jaw hittin’ the end of your slit.

He’s curving that wet, wet muscle against your walls. Just so soft that it feels as if you’re melting around him- “Fuck.” It escapes him- harsh and cracking. A primal groan at the back of his throat - one he doesn’t seem to even realize himself. “Fuck.”

You tremble at the tone.

Because there was something dark in it. Something almost…predatory.

This was nothing like the calm, composed Nanami Kento that you were used to - absolutely nothing. This was…you didn’t even have words for it.

So fiercely needy that it shoots electricity up your spine- Nanami’s tongue was ravenous. He was holding onto both sides of your legs and- and correction…he wasn’t merely holding onto them. Nanami Kento was using all his strength to push them as faaaar apart as they would go before suffocating himself on your sopping wet cunt.

Such strong hands. Furious tongue.

No matter how much you’re bucking your hips- he just keeps fucking his muscle between your wet pussylips like the last thing on his mind was breathing. 

Swooping his head even deeper and munching for more. More. More, more, more. 

Nanami crushes his mouth against your pussylips - so deep that you start to wonder whether his oral area would start to bruise—

And it’s only because of that broken call of his name that Nanami flinches. He freezes. He puffs out a murky breath. As if only now registering where he was, what he was doing, and just what his name was at the moment-

He’s breaking free from your pussy with an echoing slurp!

“K-Kento…” You’re looking on in pure worry at the dazed man - his eyes were still glazed, and there was something almost…feral about his demeanour still. Though he seemed to be much calmer than before, “Kento, are you okay to contin-”

“I am.” His voice comes out strong. Firm. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life. 

Nanami lets out a few stilted breaths- running a hand through his now-unruly hair. The glisten of a silver streak in it. “I am. I just…it’s been a long time…forever, actually, since I’ve tasted anything so delicious.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I hope you can forgive this old man for getting a little carried away, my dear.”

Was he really that ruined from but a single taste of your cunt?

He stares down so long and deeeep at your quivering pussy. That cute hole peeking out from your panties—“She’s just so…sweet.”

And though he was speaking to you, Nanami looks down lovingly between your legs. 

Now that he didn’t have his lips all plastered to your folds- he was rubbin’ his right thumb vertically down your slit.

Pressing down on the cute button of your clit-

“Awww did I scare you, honey? I sure hope I didn’t.” Honey, because you were just too sweet sizzlin’ on his tastebuds. Guiding one of your hands to grip his scalp, “Forgive me. When it gets like that, don’t be afraid to pull me- to use me, alright?”

“Kento, you don’t have to-”

“Consider it my second lesson.”

You squirm, “B-but don’t they say to…respect your elders, Kento?”

And you’re just too cute—he can’t help but flatten his palm down and spank your pussylips once more. It makes so many beads of slippery slick spray out from your cunt n’ glue against that chin of his. “You certainly can.” He hums, thoughtful. “But just remember- I won’t be respecting this pussy, honey.”

“I see.” You gape.

And while speaking to you - while speaking to you - Nanami lavishes out lil’ kitten licks between your folds. Lick. Lick. “I bet this pretty pussy’s never been eaten out like that before, huh?” He continues. Merely peeking up at you through blond lashes to confirm- and you can only nod—

Yet another spank sputtering down on your wet crevice.

“Words.” Nanami reminds. 

Hiccuping, “Yes, please. All those boys usually just like- graze my clit and that’s all.”

He nods. He continues, voice nothing but deep murmurs that sets your entire body aflame - and it’s as though the more syllables he’s uttering, the harder n’ harder he rubs on your clit. “Awww poor girl. I just can’t help but think of how long this pussy has been wasted on- haaah, boys who didn’t know how to handle her.”

“Too- too long.”

Lovingly—almost drunkenly, he’s pressing a direct peck against your hole. The tip of his tongue just lightly slipping out and teasing your entrance- Nanami’s free hand grips onto your thigh as if holding himself back. “Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He murmurs. “And how long has she waited to be eaten out by a man who isn’t afraid to get a little…sloppy?” 

“Too long-”

At this, he chuckles. “And as for my last question-” Not even smooching anymore- he’s just smeeeeaering his puffy lips along your slit. More rapid. More hungry. “Actually- take this as my third lesson.”

You’re scrambling up onto your elbows. “Yes?”

“Can you settle down like a good girl?”

Whatever that means…you aren’t given the time to figure out. Because before you know it, Nanami purses his lips and plants a wad of spittle that hits your cunt with a wet splat!

Only making you even wetter for him to gape his jaw open- “Fuck.” For him to swirl his ridged tip around and around your snug entrance until it left your mind all dizzy, it makes your cunt streeeeetch incredibly once he digs the tip of his tongue inside. Thoroughly.

It’s almost as if he was splitting you apart on the thickness of his tongue. 

Expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting. 

The stretch is so incredible that it leaves your mind searing

“Settle down. Settle doooown-” He’s humming in a low tone. Whenever Nanami feels you squirmin’ or clenching just a tad too hard, he’s making note of that particular spot and bashing it all in again. Thick muscle reaching in and out for your deepest depths until your tight hole can’t take it anymore- until you’re screaming for mercy. 

“Oh fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re arching straight off the table, the fabric clinging onto your skin briefly. Only for a few split-seconds before one of Nanami’s hands fastens onto your hips, pushing you right back down where you came from.

“What did I say?” He wasn’t even using much of his strength- you were just so easy for him to move ‘round. Especially when he has his mouth attached to you in a way that was so ravenous—

Ruined. 

“Settle. Fucking. Down, girl.” 

Pinning you to the flat surface and letting his gaped maw run wiiiiiiild. It’s making you realize that he wasn’t going feral in the beginning- he was merely holding back.

Both in strength and in pure carnal hunger.

No matter how badly you were craving to grind down restlessly on his face for hours- Nanami keeps you on a tight leash. He keeps you restrained on the table n’ getting only what’s given. Pushing down. Maneuvering his greedy mouth. No matter how much you wanted to plant your feet down and take control - Nanami Kento really does know what’s best.

“Failing the third lesson already, huh?”

Tears stream down your cheeks without you even realizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shhhhh shh shh. No need for an apology, honey.” He opens his swollen lips up wider n’ latches them around your clit for a few seconds. “My poor girl’s just overstimulated because she’s getting her pussy eaten out, huh? This pretty pussy’s just excited?”

“Yes-”

“That’s why your Kento’s here.” Nanami hums, his cold glasses frames hit the front of your cunt and you flinch. Making the man push them up his nosebridge with a chuckle—“And m’gonna take care of this pussy, baby.”

The way that Nanami looks dead-set into your widened peripherals as he says this makes your heart race.

Spitting a few more times down your dribbling slit. He was teeeeasing you before reaching his right hand down n’ smearing your pussylips open with two fingers- the rugged tips of his index n’ middle streeetching your damp hole apart. Just so goddamn thick. “Fourth lesson: sometimes…fingers feel even better.”

“O-ohhh—” Your voice breaks out in carnal trills. Trying to bend your spine but then holding yourself back-

He was thrashing inside a few more sloppy strokes - swiping, slurping, scrapin’ every inch of your velvety walls. Anywhere you could think of, his thickened digits were pumping in. 

At one point, he flicks his glistening tongue outside for you to take in his sheer size. “Size does matter when it comes to pleasing this needy pussy, alright? Don’t let any fuckin’ boy convince you otherwise.”

You mewl, “I-I wouldn’t need another boy if I just had you, Kento…”

And there’s something in his tone that sounds ecstatic- “Mmm, good girl.” Showing you a demonstration of his previous statement by mazin’ away straight towards your g-spot. And you could feel yourself shaking- all those times you had to worry about whether a guy could manage to make you cum?

Nanami was eatin’ you out like his one and only purpose in life was to make you cum.

“Always teasing me.” He scoffs out in a scalding breath. Raggedly running his mouth- his tongue. “Always riling me up with those pretty looks and that- damn-” Pushing and pushing onto your g-spot so hard that it makes you sob out of pleasure. “-mouth.”

Your jaw drops. “I l-love it—fuck.” 

Practically on instinct, you’re gliding a hand down your tummy- where you could feel butterflies. They only seemed to grow even harder n’ rougher with his textured tongue…“I think I can feel you right- ngh, here.”

“S’that so? You love it, huh? I can feel this pussy growin’ so wet—She’s so fucking tight, bet she’s never been fingered properly before.” As if anticipating your next moves, he’s digging his fingers deeper against your flesh. Leaving little crescent marks.

Whatever rational part of you is left begins to wonder just why he might have to pin you down even harder.

“And for my fifth lesson, honey.”

You’re waiting with baited breath as he presses a few more heated-open-mouthed kisses. Nanami’s luscious tongue reaching spots inside you that you weren’t even sure you had - ones undiscovered—

And it’s the only warning you get before the puckered, pretty flaps of his mouth opens up your pussylips. Just past where your folds were all swollen n’ tight- it was quite a squeeze even when it was just his tongue. Just his fingers.

So to have both Nanami’s fingers and his tongue inside?

It was sheer madness.

It was driving you stupid with his touch in but a single stroke- the jostling feeling of his wet muscle and his digits pressing against your walls and each other. Your walls. Each other. Your walls. Each other. Your channel was so snug that even the slightest movements made it feel as though you were bulging from the inside.

Pressing in. Fucking in.

In and in, and in—

“A real man is- haaah, always hungry.” Alternating between slipping his tastebuds into your hole, and then fishing himself back out—not to breathe. No, not even close. He was merely roverin’ his mouth over to spank down on your clit. “A real man would never get tired of his lover, my dear.”

“Kento—ngh.” You’re echoing out. 

Your moans bang against the four corners of the room and straight into his ears- the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “See how good you feel? S’only my duty to you, my dear.” 

“But Kento-”

Mouth makin’ out with your cunt as if he’d gone mad, too.

“Kento, don’t you need to breathe-”

“Fifth lesson. Who cares about breathing?”

He gasps out in interruption. Tongue swiping at a constant rhythm - it was difficult to get a single syllable out when all Nanami wanted to do was stick himself to your cunt and lick and lick and lick—

Both of you are realizing at the same time that he’d miscounted.

“For my fifth…” And he sounded maddened, too. Octaves higher. Tone breathy. There was a feral sort of hunger in his eyes that shook you to your core- “Sixth…?” As if he was just so pussydrunk that it was causing his brain to melt, acting on pure carnal instinct. “For my sixth lesson, honey. This old man’s mind is a little foggy, you see…”

You don’t get the chance to answer.

Because with that, Nanami only accelerates. First those fingertips of his were shoved all the way in and making your walls twitch with every hard prod—thud-thud-thudding way. Then he was smoochin’ over that same bruised spot with his slithering tongue, just swipin’ up where you were most sensitive. 

Before draaaaagging all the way out and about to suck on your clit. Throbbing so hard that he managed to time his lil’ bites to each pulse.

It was a dual sensation that left you driven mad. Absolutely mad.

Rubbin’ his fingers absolutely raw on those knotted bundles of nerves- 

You buck.

You get hit with a sudden spank.

“Mmmm—do you think you deserved that, my dear?” He asks. Too cute- the more he eats you out, the more he’s twitching in his pants. 

You sob, but you’re nodding. “Y-yes…”

Another spank.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Kento.”

“Good girl.” And honestly you could feeeel that sultry stretch of his grin—gently dabbing his tongue over your clit. Nanami Kento might’ve been a stern man, but he certainly wasn’t merciless. “But forget one more time and I’ll make you call me ‘sir’.”

You couldn’t deny the way that made your cunt twitch…

“Seventh and final lesson.” Nanami pronounces, his mouth slicked with so many layers of your sap that it gleamed—he wore those dangles of goopy syrup like a medallion. “When I make you cum- hah, you better reward me by cumming aaaaaall inside my mouth, honey. Or my cock.”

Your throat was utterly parched by now. And the only thing you could do was rasp out- “U-understood, Kento…”

Soon enough, he was babbling out hot breaths of something you could barely even understand- though each promise only sounded more ravenous than the last. 

Mouth glued to your cunt. Nails digging into your skin. Rougher than you ever thought was possible before, he’s sucklin’ at your clit and pounding his fingers into you so hard that it looked like nothing but a blur—

Nanami counts one, two, three rapid clenches of your pussy walls-

Before you’re throwing your head back and absolutely shattering into your high because of him.

Your toes curling. Your throat ragged raw.

His textured tastebuds are swipin’ across every bead of slick you were dripping out. Dripping. Every bead of slick. All over your puffy pussylips. All between them till he meets your hole- even all the way up your inner thighs.

He wasn’t letting a single bit go to waste.

Not even as that translucent sap dribbles down the sides of his mouth and ends up splashin’ right up to his handsome cheekbones-

The pleasure washes over you twofold - both with your orgasm and the way that Nanami was eloooongating your orgasm. Both his fingers and his mouth were working overtime to press into each peak of your high. “O-oh—” Thighs trembling on top of his shoulders- you don’t know when, but they end up locked so tight around his head. “It feels s-so good.”

Each tiny curve of his fingers made your body twitch in the aftershocks. “Extra lesson- fuck back into me.”

“Wh-what?”

It takes you a significant amount of effort to even open your eyes - let alone start to swerve your body uuup n’ down. And yet you’re doing it anyway—moaning as you ride all of Nanami’s handsome features in looooong, sloppy drags. “Fuh-fuck, like this?”

And he was just loving it.

“Mhmmm.” He gurgles out. Cracking one eye open, “Exactly. I know this is the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever experienced, my dear.”

He wasn’t even being cocky - and you usually would’ve called him out on it - this was just plain true. “I-it is-”

“I know this pretty pussy wants it again, my dear.”

You can only nod.

“I know I surely want to eat her again, my dear.”

And nod and and nod as he’s fucking you through even the tiniest peaks and spasms—the surplus of bliss making your veins bubble. Burst. Bulldoze your senses as you’re practically vibrating with the sheer amount of pleasure that runs through them.

There seems to be a hazy aura covering your vision as you finally ride through your entire high.

Struggling up onto your elbows once more-

“Stay down—”

“Yes…?” Your eyes widen at Nanami’s strict order. He leaves a final slurping kiss at your clit before he stands onto his feet. Slightly swaying—

There was a glaze over his eyes. There was your slick coating all the way from his lower face, and puddling dooown to form a dark patch on his button-up. There were the short, panted breaths he was emanating - like a predator honed in on his prey - the longer he looked at you splayed out on the messy table.

Nanami Kento almost looked drunk - and not on the dinner, not even on the sparse wine. 

He was completely n’ utterly ruined on nothing other than your pussy.

He lunges towards you-

“Fuck, Kento—” You’re squealing at the rugged hands that tear through your clothes as easily as if they were butter. Shirt and bra easily landing on the carpeted floor- and your skirt was to follow before you even realized.

You’re just about to help Nanami shuffle you out of your panties - hips raising to facilitate it - before he takes another look at you. One long, hard look. And his hands leave your body as though that was enough-

He wanted your panties on.

Nothing but a sopping wet mess twisted ‘round your hips. Evidence of his depravity. 

“I want these off then.” You’re reaching up to tug on one of Nanami’s sleeves. He was still partly in his office clothes: button-up, formal pants, tie. And those sleeves of his had been pushed up to his elbows during your dinner, leaving you struggling not to gawk at the older man’s forearms. Strong. Slightly veined. Slightly tanned. 

He was just so attractive that it made you squirm. 

Nanami looks down at himself and lets out a hoarse—“Oh…right.” Like he’d been so caught up in you that he hadn’t even realized he was still clothed.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Those neat white buttons end up flinging to the ground- useless against his sheer desperation. Nanami wastes no time before tearing through his layers, ripping them off. Fabric pools onto the carpet below. His belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground.

Gentlemen couldn’t deny such a thing when their lover’s asking so nicely, could they? At least Nanami couldn’t-

And fuck…

Now, you always assumed that Nanami Kento was the kind of guy to be well-built. It was naturally in the way he moved, the way he stood, in the broadness of his shoulders.

But you’d never in your wildest dreams could have imagined that he’d be this chiselled. This toned.

You have to stop yourself from ogling him—you have to. But you can’t help it.

Not when Nanami’s body was ridged and curved in muscle- almost Herculean in nature. He had pecs that looked lush enough for you to bite - and you could already feel your mouth start to water - with a faint coating of golden and silver hair scattered across his skin. Wide shoulders. Trim waist.

His biceps flexin’ as he moves onto the buttons of his pants.

Lined through the middle with similar golden hair that drove down, down, down…

But you think your favorite part of him wasn’t the muscles or the hardness- no. Though they were certainly a nice addition, what made your pussy throb the most was just how…thick Nanami Kento was.

It was evident that Nanami was the type of person who liked hitting the gym often- but then again, it was evident that Nanami was the type of person who didn’t have the time to be hitting the gym often.

As often as he used to, at least.

And you? You were loving it.

Because all those muscles of his were naturally-formed. But with all the years of responsibilities as a father which meant his body was comforted by a layer of slight chub, big. Strong. Suddenly, you understood why ‘dad-bods’ were all the craze on social media—because you - for one - couldn’t help but linger your eyes at the sight of the softness to his shape. The slight roundness to his belly, abs barely peaking through.

“My dear…”

“Kento.”

He presses a thumb against the hemline of his trousers-

And then he’s letting you see him—all of him. 

From his V-shaped waist to his meaty thighs.

So thick. So strong.

You just wanted to be crushed between them.

And right down to the furious cock that stood upright and erect between them. Such a bulbous red tip, streaming with never-ending ribbons of pre. Such a thickened shaft that made you swallow—he had so many veins zipping down either side of him. You think he was about nine or so inches- perhaps on the lower end.

Before you’d realized it, you’d been reaching your hand between his legs- only for Nanami to stop you in your tracks.

“K-Kento…”

His thick fingers intertwine with yours and press your hand down on the tabletop. “Honey, you don’t have to reciprocate.” The older man stares deeply into your eyes- “You don’t owe me anything. I ate your pretty pussy out because I’ve been starving for her.”

“But I still want to.” You insist.

“Mmmm, how about after then?” He reaches his free hand up n’ thumbs across your bottom lip. “As much as I want to paint these beautiful lips with my cum, there’s another pair who’ve been waiting patiently for their turn…”

You shiver, “Erm- Kento, you should know that…this is my first time.”

He pauses. “Excuse me, my dear?”

“I’ve never done it before.” Looking up at him through your tear-draped lashes. “You’ll be my first.”

The thought takes a second to register in the older man’s sex-hazed mind. That animalistic part of him being overpowered by the rational.

Your first time.

Your first time.

Your first time.

He was about to take the virginity of that cute lil’ nanny he’s had his eye on for so long. “Honey, are you su-”

“Yes.”

Nanami almost moans at the sheer eagerness in your voice - your eyes were shining, and your legs locked tighter around him. “Well…” The man starts, dipping two thumbs down to your glistening pussy and spreading your folds wide open. He takes a good look at your entrance in comparison to the thickness of his cock, “Brace yourself then, my dear. S’gonna be a tight fuckin’ fit.”

In a split-second, he’s jerking his hips closer and smoochin’ your naked cunt with his cock. His rounded tip spreading your pussylips. His shaft sliding between your slit and massaging you with his veins.

Nanami was so goddamn hard that it looked painful.

And what better way to alleviate the pain than by pushing his pretty lil nanny’s legs apart and shoving his cock between them? Aching and needy for you.

Nanami was big enough to fuck you stupid with just his tip.

And he knows it, too. Having such a hard time completely fittin’ in his crowned girth, he just barely fucks the top of his shaft inside before groaning. Taking a peek at the way you were squirming below him, sobbing below him. Absolutely ruined- “Shit, honey.” Cupping his hilt with his left hand- Shit, honey, can you recite the lessons for me?”

You’re wobbling up onto your elbows, “Recite them?”

He can only nod. “Just—oh.” Cut off with the slightest sliiiiide between your sweet, swollen pussylips- he’s only managing to nudge the rounded edge of his length. “Just recite them. You have them memorized f’me like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yes-” Nodding frantically. “Yes, Kento-”

And that cute obedience of yours is enough to make him smile- tap-tap-tappin’ away the curve of his tip down there. For absolutely no other reason than wanting to. “Good.” He reels his hips back. “Then say it f’me, my dear.” And then forwards- “Say it while I fuck you.”

And the only thing you can fucking do is to babble out those words- the very same ones that’d been drilled into you. “The first lesson is that—fuck.” All the while Nanami’s probin’ tip enters your hole in a sudden thrust. “-th-that big girls use their words.”

Nanami grunts, voice shot. “Goooood good good- keep breathing now.” Hand clawing down your front—feeling for himself as he pumps inside. Tiiiight fucking fit, like he said. He almost wonders whether it would go in- “And then?”

“The second…” 

But it’s almost impossible to remember- to even think with those rapidfire haaaard hammers of his cock. 

That curved tip of his shaft kept pushing iiiin with the most lecherous squelches, drawing more n’ more sweetened slick out of you with every single thrust. That stretch was just incredible- it was making you see white. Just the first few inches of his pretty pink cock squeezing inside and pushing in and in and in—

Thwack!

Those rugged fingertips of his come spanking back down on your cunt - this time, however, they fit between your pussylips and latch onto your clit. And they stay there. He’s tuggin’ on that poor nub a few times just to bring you back to your senses- “Awww, you didn’t think you’d go unpunished for that—-did you, my dear?”

“I-I—no.” Because tears stream down your cheeks, and Nanami still isn’t letting go. He’s flopping out his tongue and lapping at that salty flavor-

“Then continue.” Humming at the taste of you. Fitting and fitting and—trying to stretch your elastic hole out to take him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt something like this. “You’re doing so good. Keep going for Kento.”

Thwack!

“Keep talking, honey.”

“Second lesson-” Unable to do anything but arch your back, you’re being met with Nanami’s soft chest. Those pecs. The thundering of his heartbeat. It’s enough to make your mouth already water—“t-to…use you.”

He leans in, “What was that, my dear? Old man, you know…”

“To use you-”

“To not be afraid to use me.” He corrects. 

And it’s the last thing you hear before both Nanami’s hands snake down to grab your ankles- restraining them. Tightening them.

He’s bending you easily in half.

Legs on top of his shoulders. Thighs against thighs.

Pushing you all the way back into a mating press.

A fucking mating press.

Of course the hot DILF that you’re nannying for puts you in a mating press. Of fucking course!

And it’s only causing you to become wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life- your head falls back against the table surface. Thud! An action that makes the older man on top of you reach behind n’ cushion the back of your scalp. “Easy there, my dear. Eeeeeasy.” His left palm lightly massages your sweaty head. 

“K-Kento-” Through your tears.

“Easy there- third lesson, remember?” 

“To s-settle down…”

“That’s my girl.” Nanami hums, head threatening to tip backwards at the sensations of your quivering cunt. It’s impossible to keep his mind when you were gushing out so much slick that it coats his shaft and leaves his ballsack all drenched.

And if he was this gone, then where did that leave you? 

Well, you were just babbling away the pretty syllables of his lessons. “The f-fourth lesson is that fingers feel better.” Hips bucking upwards. “The fifth is that real men are hungry—” Eyes scrunching with tears. That large circumference of his were pushing into tender spots n’ crevices that you didn’t even know you had - it felt as though your poor pussy was being split by him. Push after push.

After probe after probe.

Just animalistically trying to fit inside—

“The sixth- the sixth-”

“Breathe, honey.” Those smoky words of his scorch your face, as if Nanami himself was burning from the inside out. And there truly was a feverish tint to his words—to his actions, fuckin’ away sloppily between your pussylips. Slurp after slurp. “Breeeeeeathe- c’mon do it with me.” 

Conducting you through these relaxation exercises for a few strokes.

Listening to his own advice - that fourth lesson - his right hand lifts off of your thighs to roll over your throbbing clit. Just so neglected by now, it makes you see white to have him massaging that sweet spot all slow and sensual.

“The sixth lesson is…who cares about breathing?”

“Mhmmm.”

A guttural tone that sent vibrations straight from your drippin’ core and up to your brain. Only growing more muddled by the inch- “And oh! The extra.” As all good students do, you’re deciding to show a demonstration. How sinful that this sort of demonstration is you balancing your hips on the table n’ choosing to bounce right up to meet Nanami’s rutting hits. His pounces. “To- ngh, fuck back into you.”

“Oh, good girl- this old man almost forgot that one.” Sleazily, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge.

Staring at the lewd sight below of you griiiiinding your hips up into his. It was just so messy because your lips were jittery with pleasure.

His happy trail rubs carnally on top of your clit- and it sends you into a frenzy—

“F-fuck that was-”

“Shhhh shh shh, easy.”

You waddle your ankles from their perch atop his shoulders. “Yes, I know-” Hissing out—“I’m breathing, Kento. I’m listening to what you’re saying, promise…”

“Good girl. Now inhale.” Of course, you can’t help but take a looooong gasp of the heady air thick in the dining room - the candles were scented like roses. “And-”

“And…?”

And Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t bother telling you to exhale before his fat, throbbing cock is fucking every volume of air from your lungs. In this mating press, he could hit each angle even deeper than before - and that meant you’re feeling his thick circumference bruise all the way against your womb.

Your cervix.

Bottomed all the way out and Nanami was pummeling his length away as if there was even more, more, more of him left. A hint of something metallic hits his nostrils—and he can’t hold back the victorious chuckle that leaves him. He’s done it. “Continue.”

“I—what-” Struggling to catch your breath. “Oh my fucking-”

“Continue.”

“Who cares about breathing-”

A sixth lesson that he was fully demonstrating.

He really was mean.

He really was merciless.

Because he was fucking you into the dinner table like a damn animal—and the thing is Nanami wasn’t even going at a particularly fast pace in order to leave you speechless. He wasn’t merely half-thrusting away and hoping that you liked it. He wasn’t just tracin’ his cockhead down the sweet spots at the back of your pussy.

Nanami Kento was holding you down tight in his mating press. He has one hand gripping onto the back of your scalp - such a gentle gesture turned so sinful - and another crushin’ the fatness of his palm to your pussy.

Purposefully, the older man pushes the edge of his palm down on your clit. Harder. Harder. Harder.

And he was drilling into you harder by the second, too. Harder didn’t mean faster.

Just draaaagging every inch of his vein-covered shaft down your slick channel - he’s making sure that you can feel every single curve n’ ridge down his cock. He’s making sure that he massages your insides so thoroughly that it feels as though you’re being molded to his cock. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You swear you’re seeing the pearly gates spread wide open before your very eyes. “O-oh my god-” Reaching your hands up, Nanami lowers his strong body further into yours. Pushing you down against the dinner table, the pressure from all sides is too much that you have to claaaw down his perfect back. “Kento, what—fuck. I didn’t know that it could feel like this-”

And deep inside, you can feel his thickened tip flinching. Directly at your g-spot. “Mhm?”

“Yeah-” Voice shattering in your throat as his circumference swells just a few millimeters thicker inside of you. He was growing even bigger, harder, just by the sensations of your slurping cunt. “I-it just feels so good- I’ve never been fucked like this.”

“Honey…” Nanami’s mean yet pointed tone makes you stare up at him. “You’ve never been fucked before me.‘

“Oh.”

“Your virginity is mine.”

“Oh.”

Just that gone on his cock that you’d almost forgotten - even the realization itself seems to take up too much storage inside your already-muddled brain. Now filled with only the thought of him n’ his achingly hot cock—pouring out bucketloads of precum until it sloshed around inside.

Inside and inside.

Stirring ‘round and ‘round with his probin’ cockhead. He pushes deep into spots that you hadn’t even known existed, let alone could be smooched away by his pulsating shaft. He constantly whacks your g-spot until it feels numb.

Enough to render you speechless- 

“—graduated.”

And that makes your eyes blink open. “Wh-what?” 

“Oh, honey…” Nanami plants a loving peck on your lips- until that peck turns into a rugged bite. “What world are you on, hm? S’my cock that good? Awww, my poor girl—here.” Nanami’s perspired forehead sticks against yours. This time, he’s staring deeply into your eyes as he pronounces the words, “You’ve graduated.”

You cock your head in confusion, “From university?”

He chuckles, fine lines popping out from the edges of his eyes. You’re noticing that his glasses have slightly fogged up by now- “No, silly girl. From my lessons.”

“Oh…” Pouting, “But I liked your lessons, Kento.”

“Mmmm, you’ll like this one even more.” Dipping down- Nanami presses his stern lips right to the shell of your left ear. Whispering as if a secret shared by no one but the two of you in this world, “Remember how Yuji mentioned he wanted a little brother…”

A jolt goes through your body- as does the realization.

“If you’d like then-”

“Yes.” You know it might be rash. But looking at him like this - looking at Nanami Kento so deep in the pangs and plunges of his carnal pleasure - how could you deny what you want? “Yes—”

The blond man’s breaths start to grow heavier, eyes slightly widened. For the first time in the longest time, he actually looks like his usually-sensible self. Those molten eyes of his search yours for an answer- “Honey, really think this throu-”

“I did.” You’re insisting. And if that wasn’t enough, he could feel your wobbly ankles surge with the strength to lock ‘round his neck. “Inside, Kento.”

Nanami’s mouth moves noiselessly with an answer, but his cock does all the swelling. So painfully hard that you were sure it was tougher than rocks-

And there’s only one thing left for you to do. “Inside…sir.”

If he was any less of a gentleman - of a man, really - then Nanami would’ve cum inside you then and there. At least in his mind—which was focused solely on digging his heels into the carpet, solely on gritting his teeth and holding his damn cock back from pouring out those wads of cum like he knew he wanted to.

Was on the verge of doing.

He was instead collapsing the entirety of his weight upon your body- feeling your limbs strain, hearing your joints pop. But not even that noise crackling in his eardrums is enough to get the man to slow down.

Now he was just fucking you sloppy—grunts filtering between his grit canines by the minute. By the thrust. “The first to fuck you.” And what a rare occasion: to hear the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento stutter. “I’ll be the first to breed you too, my dear.”

“Oh—fuck, yes.” Your entire body shivers in excitement. You could feel the pit of pleasure starting to grow in your stomach. 

“I’ll be the first to give this pretty cunt a taste of cum.” And you could hardly believe that such a sinful sentence was leaving the confines of his mouth—“She’s probably so thirsty by now, no? I’ll be the first to quench that thirst, my dear, just you wait-” Pinching your clit between the fingers on his right hand once more. “-mama.”

Really, if you were calling him ‘sir’ then it was only fair for him to call you by that pretty nickname. Something primal awakens inside of you-

“I’ll be the first one to stuff this pretty pussy-” Nanami gurgles out, eyes locking in on your stomach. That was where his rounded tip occasionally made an appearance by bulging through your flesh n’ skin as he fucked inside you. “-with so much of my cum that you’ll be bloated.”

You gasp hysterically, “Yes-” So turned on that it almost hurt - you wanted him. Now. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“I’ll be the first to make you feel me in here- for weeks. Months.” Thrust after thrust. Pinch after pinch. It was incredible how much he was stimulating you to tears- “I’ll be the first where—when you walk down the street, everyone will know that I fucked you. Everyone will know that- that this pretty pussy is mine, that I’m the one fuckin’ her and stuffing her and—and giving her my cum every night.”

Rolling a sweet, sweet heart on top of your clit.

“They’ll know that I’m the one fuckin’ the cute, sweet lil’ nanny—all of them. The professors. Those parents at pick-up. Your friends. My friends.” He chuckles darkly. And he doesn’t care who’d be scandalized. “Wanna know why, my honey?”

“Wh-why—” You sob out.

And he leans in to whisper in your ear- “Because I’ll be the one making you a momma.”

Until you’re all round and glowing with his seed.

Until you’re so full of him that you can’t take anymore.

Until you’re so stuffed that you wouldn’t be able to hide it- he hopes you’re walking ‘round with his cum between your legs for weeks.

It’s taking only that and a single puuuush against your g-spot for you to topple off the edge of your high. Bliss pumping through your veins in waves, you couldn’t escape from the constant throb and ebb of it. Dimming the edges of your vision. Making the lights seem brighter.

Again and again and again—

He’s probin’ inside that swollen cockhead to push you through the bouts of your pleasure. In the time he’s had you like this, Nanami’s already mapped out where every single one of your sweetest spots where- and first he’ll thwack! his hand upon your clit. Then he’ll move onto your tender bruised spots at the rim, then his cock delves deeper until he’s hitting your g-spot—then again and again he’s knockin’ on your womb.

Filling it with so much of his cum.

“Breathe.” Your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to manually control your breathing- and Nanami’s right beside you. Walking you through every step, every exhale and inhale. “Breathe iiiiiin.”

You’re sucking in a breath. “Fuck-”

And it’s just then that he’s emptying out a particularly powerful wave of his own euphoria. Balls clenching as his ribbony white cum leaks near your cervix- with your breath sucked in, you’re only feeling the sensations even stronger. “And out.”

Panting out with a whine. “Fuuuuck- f-feels so good.”

Too good, almost.

You never knew it could feel like this to have someone pourin’ out all their lecherous sap inside of you- the thick layers clinging onto either side of your walls. There’s so much of it - so much volume that you wondered just how he managed to keep it all stuffed inside - frothing out and forming a circle of white ‘round Nanami’s hilt. Gleaming with every thrust. Puddling out and sticking your thighs together— 

Head throwing slightly back, though still peeking at you through his lashes. “Honey…”

Nanami’s gruff tone makes you jump. “Yes?” Still slightly twitching from the aftershocks of your incredible high.

He stares into your eyes with a slight smile. Something unreadable. “You forgot the seventh lesson earlier.”

The seventh…?

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

It’s with a sudden cold thrill that you’re registering what he said- and remembering the mistake you’d made during your recitations earlier. “I-it was to cum all over-”

“That’s quite alright, my dear. No need to tell me now.” Nanami smiles the sweetest smile that makes your cunt start to throb - his eyes shuttered closed, his lips pecking yours. His cock shovels a long, hard thrust inside you—“But I will have to rescind your graduation.”

You gape, “What, why-”

“Until you’re completely and fully stuffed by me.” He grumbles out the rest of his statement. His condition. 

Hands rovering all over your body, Nanami makes sure that every slight tingle of your high has passed before he’s pulling out of you with a loud sluuuuurp! Immediately scooping you up into a princess carry n’ walking in the direction of his bedroom.

It isn’t long before you find yourself draped over Nanami Kento’s large mattress - on all fours so that he can slip inside you with ease. Pumping away immediately- “Until you’re fuckin’ pregnant, consider that you’re still taking lessons.”

You’re sobbing into your newly-caught pillow. “Oh—oh fuck.”

To which Nanami leans over and snatches your neck into a fucking headlock- his strong biceps pushing against the sides of your throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear. When this is all done- fuck, m’gonna show you how much I love you.”

“I l-love you—” Feeling his rounded tip immediately pierce across your g-spot and towards your womb. Full. “-too.”

“Mmm, I love you more.” Watching as you shake and quiver. “We’ll get you something sweet after this, honey, don’t you worry.” He hums- before sneaking a look at the both of you through the mirror in his bedroom and chuckling. 

Ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.

“If we make it out of Valentine’s Day alive, that is.” 

Maybe Shoko could babysit Yuji a little longer?

“Papa’s gonna do his best to try for a second child, alright?”

.

.

.

Morning shed its sunlight like the clothes upon Nanami’s apartment floor.

A stream of white-gold Sun, the richness of the day, enters through his windows and splays out perfectly on the bed. It dapples light across his naked chest and leaves him stirring—

Valentine’s Day.

The dinner.

The table.

You. Being taken on the table.

Afterwards on this very bed, afterwards on the damn bedroom floor after he heard a snap coming from somewhere on the bed frame. He’d shovelled himself n’ his gooey white sap inside you until the Sun had risen—

And it’s enough to make him jerk upright in his bed.

Blankets falling around his waist, sleepy eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

From here, he couldn’t see what’d been made of your clothes in the dining room- or your panties in his bedroom. But it was obvious that you weren’t here. If from your physical presence, then from the warmth you brought into his drafty Tokyo home.

Just to make sure, he casts several wide-eyed looks around the room - breath-still in case there was a single noise from the kitchen - and still…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to make sense of.

Of course, what was he thinking? He’d said…those words to you last night- but just because you’d said them back didn’t mean it was real. It was probably in the heat of the moment, you’d probably snuck out before dawn broke so you didn’t have to face him. You’d probably woken up disgusted.

He didn’t blame you - there were no promises between the two of you. And even if there had been, he knows he can’t find it in himself to get angry at you.

If anything - if you chose to quit after this - he supposes he’ll have to start looking for a nanny again. Something in Nanami’s chest twists, and he reaches up to rub the spot where his heart was.

He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it still led him back to you. He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it meant you were there with him - not as a nanny, just yourself being you.

It was a cold morning.

And Nanami Kento was clenching his sheets, just about to throw his legs over the side of the bed and get out—he needed to put away his clothes anyways before Shoko came with Yuji. What was the time anyway? It was his off-day today, and maybe he could take Yuji out to the park to take his mind off of-

And it’s then that several things happen at once.

Nanami’s eyes catch the face of the clock on his bedside cabinet: 12:48PM.

Nanami’s jaw drops at just how late it is.

Nanami snatches his phone off of the cabinet and makes to race outside while calling Shoko-

And he makes it about two frantic steps, too, before getting stopped by a sudden squeal of laughter. Loud and bubbling. Euphoric.

Of course, it was none other than his son. 

Echoing a short burst of laughter throughout the apartment- before abruptly cutting himself off with a pronounced ‘shhhhhh!’ It rings even louder than his laugh, and reaches Nanami’s ears alongside some words. “Sowwy! Yuji promises not to wake papa!”

And Nanami’s brows furrow, wondering whether Shoko had somehow managed to forge a key to his apartment and get in. Before out of nowhere—your voice is the one that answers him.

“S’alright, sunshine.” You’re using that nickname he always did. Sleepiness was still laced into your tone, and he could tell it hadn’t been long since you must’ve waddled away. 

Since you must’ve put away the clothes in the dining room, since you must’ve opened the door for Yuji - Nanami would hate to imagine the smug look on Shoko’s face then, but the surplus of texts from her were already doing the job. “Papa needs to be awake for breakfast-in-bed, doesn’t he?”

The smell of pancakes drifts through the bedroom door - along with Yuji’s answering call. “True…but what if papa won’t wake up?”

“Then we eat the pancakes.”

“Yes—” Yuji echoes, “Thank you, Cupid.”

“Hm?”

“Because Cupid made you n’ papa married, right?” But of course. It leaves you stunned for a few seconds, and Yuji obliviously chattering. “I’ve always wanted to keep you- papa, too. Even though I know he won’t say—can we keep you now, Ms. Nanny?”

Your voice sounds slightly thicker than before. “You can keep me as long as you want, Yuji.”

“Thank you, Cupid!”

Two evil cackles, and the sound of footsteps.

You’re opening the door with a flood of sunlight and a tray of pancakes in your hand. Yuji rushes in after you with a call of ‘good morning’ - and by the smile on your face…yeah.

Yeah, it really is a good morning.

He still doesn’t know how to explain to Yuji that the two of you aren’t married yet, however.

It’s in an hour that you finally break the news- but rush to assure the little boy before he bursts into tears, that he could ‘keep you’ as long as he wanted. And that the two of you were together—yes, together together. Nanami puts off answering Shoko (she ambushes him for gossip the very next day). 

It’s in a month that you start officially calling yourselves lovers - boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever it is. It seems like so much more than that, however. And so Nanami just settles for introducing you as his partner at those tedious work dinners.

It’s in a few more months that those work dinners become the last he’s attending. Because Nanami Kento quits that damn job, using everything he’s saved up to buy a little bakery and a house just a small ways off from the heart of the city - not quite the countryside as he once imagined, but this was good, too. It was still a manageable distance from your university and Yuji’s school, and yet so much bigger than the apartment.

It’s in a year that Nanami’s bakery is at the height of business - a figure that will only keep growing as the years pass by. Word spreads far and wide about those treats- and soon enough, he’s forced to fire extra hands and more part-timers than he ever thought would be needed. The little bakery grows into a big bakery, with time.

You couldn’t have been more happy to see those dark circles underneath his eyes cease for once, to see him pursue his dreams. Yuji couldn’t have been more happy to get all the sweet treats he could’ve ever wished for.

And now, Nanami could buy him all the car beds he could’ve ever wished for.

He also starts looking into wedding rings.

He still isn’t sure about a Spiderman-themed wedding, but he knows he’ll be baking the cake.

A/N. Hehehe that Nanami and the flowers scene was inspired by my father having a tradition to always buy me a bouquet as well today.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[simplybakugou]

A World Without You | Mystic Academia: Bakugou Katsuki's Route

↝ Following the life-altering events in M.F.A., you and Bakugou work on moving forward together.

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM

⋆ PAIRING: ceo!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; slight angst; fluff; hospitals ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2.7K

A/N: and she’s finally here! the final part of bakugou’s route for the series! genuinely feeling a little emotional now

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the bakugou cap

Mystic Academia: Bakugou Katsuki's Route Masterlist

The feeling of heat beating down on your body was what finally awoke you. You opened your eyes, squinting at the sight of the sun beaming through the window. It took a few seconds for you to remember where you were, and you turned over, expecting to see Bakugou sleeping beside you.

But you were greeted with the feeling of a furry, white ball curled up next to you. You sat up, blinking at the sight of King sleeping next to you. Scanning the room, there was no sign of Bakugou. The clock on the wall read 9:30 AM, and you jolted out of bed. You were still in your clothes from the night before, or early this morning to be exact, so you grabbed a spare outfit you had packed and quickly changed and freshened up in the bathroom. You had to track down that idiot who just refuses to rest…

Right as you finished with the bathroom and were about to start your search, the door to the room opened, Bakugou standing in front of you at the doorway. He had an arm brace on his left shoulder, elevating his right arm to his chest and he had changed out of his hospital gown.

“When did you get up?” You asked as Bakugou closed the door. 

“An hour ago,” he replied, handing you a piece of paper he was holding and walked over to his bed, sitting beside King who was still asleep. “Had to get this.”

You scanned the piece of paper, your eyes nearly bulging out as you took in the information. “They’re discharging you?!”

“Yeah,” Bakugou said, acting like nothing happened. 

“I’m going to go talk to the doctor. This can’t be right,” you said, moving to open the door until Bakugou got up and closed it shut before you could leave. 

“You don’t have to talk to anybody.” He paused, hesitant to speak and he sighed before he said, “I got a doctor to discharge me.”

“You told them to?!” You exclaimed. “How did you get them to sign you out?”

“I talked to ‘em,” he said curtly. You narrowed your eyes at him, not believing him for a second. “Fine, I told him I’d get his daughter some limited edition hoodies I released last year.”

“You bribed him?!” You sighed as Bakugou walked away and moved towards the bags you packed. “Katsuki, you need to rest.”

“I’m gonna, okay?” He turned around, taking the brace off and before you could question him, he said, “Doctor said only use it if my arm hurts, and it doesn’t. And I already told ‘em I’d come back tomorrow for a check up.”

You closed your eyes, inhaling and exhaling. Bakugou walked towards you, resting his hands on your shoulders gently. “I can’t stay here. There’s some things I need to do.”

“Like what?” You asked warily. “We should just go home and rest, at least for a few days. You’re not even going to work for a little bit.”

"If you tell me to rest one more goddamn time–"

"I wouldn't have to keep saying it if you'd just listen to me!" You exclaimed.

Bakugou stared down at you, noticing the exasperation in your eyes. As frustrating as it was, he knew you only wanted what's best for him. “I’ll rest after I do this,” he responded, an adamant look in his eyes, “Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will. But what are we doing?”

Bakugou hesitated for a moment. “I’m gonna visit Deku. I called the jail they’re holding him in and they said I could visit.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Is… that a good idea? I mean, with everything that happened earlier this morning and plus you’re injured. And I’m worried about Deku’s state of mind, too.”

“Probably a shit idea. But… all the shit that went down… I can’t stop thinking about it.” He dropped his hands from your shoulders. “And I never got to tell him how I feel. I’ve gotta do this.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Alright. But I’m driving.”

The entire time you drove Bakugou’s car, that one of his assistants had driven to the hospital, Bakugou was gripping onto his seat. You rolled your eyes every time he freaked out, telling him you’ve driven many times and he’s being overdramatic. Well… it was an expensive car.

Before heading to the holding facility, you and Bakugou dropped King off back home along with your things. The entire ride, other than his outcries about your driving, Bakugou was relatively quiet. Any time you snuck a glance at him, he was looking out the window. The plain black T-shirt he adorned didn’t hide the white bandage wrapped around his right shoulder, where he had been shot.  

You pulled into the mini lot by the holding facility, and both you and Bakugou exited the vehicle. He stared in the direction of the building, mentally preparing himself. You walked over to him, and his gaze finally broke away. “Be careful, okay? Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be right over.”

He smiled softly, wrapping his good arm around your waist. “I will. I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded and he leaned down, giving you a peck on the lips and you watched as he made his way into the building.

Bakugou’s heart was pounding in his chest as he sat on the metal chair, staring at the dividing wall separating him and the empty chair in front of him. He had gone through a lengthy procedure with the correctional security and his shoulder started to ache. Not that he’d ever tell you before you’d have a heart attack and force him to lay down and drive him back to the hellhole of a hospital. 

The dividing wall was cemented down and a glass pane separated the two chairs, allowing Bakugou to look into the room on the other side of him. The door on the opposite side opened and Bakugou held his breath as Deku walked into the small room. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit with an assortment of numbers printed on the left side of his chest. His hands were cuffed, his hair disheveled and hanging slightly over his eyes, and he looked exhausted.

Deku smirked after realizing it was Bakugou who had requested to visit him. He begrudgingly sat on the metal chair, resting his hands on the metal ledge on his side of the wall. “How’s your shoulder?” His emerald eyes flitted over to the bandages peeking through Bakugou’s shirt.

Bakugou clenched his teeth slightly. “Fine.”

Deku chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Are you here so you can feel better about yourself? Compare how great your life is to shitty Deku’s life?”

“I’m here ‘cause I wanna talk.” Bakugou paused. “I never meant for any of this to happen. It’s my fault everything went to shit… I should’ve checked in on you more back then.”

The amusement on Deku’s face disappeared as he stared at Bakugou with the most intense look Bakugou had ever seen from his childhood friend. “What’s done is done.”

Deku glanced towards the door behind Bakugou where he had entered. “Our Y/N isn’t with you?” Bakugou’s eye twitched, his jaw clenching and Deku laughed, noticing it immediately. They had known each other for so long and even if Bakugou didn’t know the man Deku was now, Deku knew every little detail of Bakugou. And he knew every which way to piss him off. “You don’t deserve a girl like her. You brainwashed her just like you brainwashed everybody else.”

“I know I don’t deserve her,” Bakugou admitted. “She's understood me more than anyone I’ve met… but I can’t help my feelings.”

“So, you’re just gonna be selfish as usual,” Deku said, rolling his eyes. 

Bakugou breathed through his nose. “I never meant for any of this to happen, Izuku–”

“I told you it’s Deku now.”

Bakugou hesitated before continuing, “I never thought it would end like this. I’m sorry, Deku. But why didn’t you just talk to me? You were my friend, the closest thing I had to a best friend, and I would’ve helped. Or at least tried to fucking do something.”

Deku clenched his jaw, keeping his mouth shut. Bakugou stared despondently through the glass. He knew Deku wouldn't answer his questions. “I’m sorry it ended like this.”

The door opened as an officer came inside to escort Deku. “Yeah, me too,” he muttered before he was taken away.

You leaned against the hood of Bakugou’s car, continuing to wait for him to emerge from the building. The inside of your cheeks felt raw from the way you were gnawing at them out of nerves. It was difficult to imagine what to expect when he did finally come back. You’d only known Deku for two weeks, barely even since you only spoke to him in two instances before he kidnapped you, but Bakugou knew him his whole life. The betrayal and the confusion of it all must’ve been jarring to comprehend let alone deal with.

Sighing, you continued to scroll on your phone, distracting yourself to let the time pass. So distracted that you didn’t even see the doors open, Bakugou walking towards you. You finally noticed when you heard his shoes against the pavement, whipping your head up and slipping your phone in your pocket. “Katsuki! You’re done w–”

The words cut out from your lips as Bakugou embraced you, using both arms to hold you to him despite the pain searing through his shoulder from the sudden movement of his right arm. You were taken aback, stepping back from the momentum and you wrapped your arms around him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. 

After a few moments you let Bakugou be the one to pull away. “Get me outta here,” he muttered in a breathless whisper.

You nodded and the two of you got into the car immediately.

The air in the car felt even more tense than it did when you were driving towards Deku’s holding facility. You listened to the GPS as it directed you back to Bakugou’s apartment but when you looked over in Bakugou’s direction while waiting at a red light and you saw Bakugou with his head back against the headrest, eyes closed with his brows furrowing, you did a U-turn. 

Bakugou’s eyes shot open at the sudden movement. “What the hell? Where are we going?”

“I think we should get some fresh air before we get home,” you simply said, glancing over at him as you parked his car at a nearby park. 

Bakugou blinked at you, inhaling deeply before nodding in agreement. 

The park was quite lively that morning with kids running around the grass, playing with each other. There were many families there and so you and Bakugou sought refuge under a tree at the end of the park. 

You were both sprawled out on the grass, leaning against the base of the trunk of the tree with Bakugou’s left arm wrapped around you as you leaned into him. For a while the two of you stayed quiet, listening to the wind make the leaves and branches of the trees sway and bristle against each other mixed with occasional screams and laughs from the children and you watched the kids play. 

It was difficult for you to determine what to do. How do you console someone who just had their life turned upside down and visited someone dear to them in jail? Your hand was pressed against Bakugou’s stomach as you rubbed small circles in an attempt to soothe him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, finally breaking the comfortable yet tense silence. 

You looked up at Bakugou, resting your head against his left shoulder. He looked down at you, planting a kiss on your forehead. He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree. “I don’t know.”

You pulled away, pressing your lips together as you assessed him. “Did it help seeing him?”

“A little,” Bakugou responded, looking back down at you. “It felt… weird seeing him in there. Like I had to help him get outta there.”

A small leaf landed on Bakugou’s head and you reached up and removed it, letting him continue. “We’re gonna have to go to the station soon. To give our statements like you said in the hospital. And when we’re there I think I’m gonna tell ‘em I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your eyes widened slightly but you relaxed, understanding the situation and nodded. “They’re still probably putting some charges or some shit against him since he did have a gun and he did shoot me but I’m not gonna add shit to that.” Bakugou shook his head.

“Whatever you think is best for you I think you should do it,” you responded and he smiled. “Can I ask you something? Something about what Deku mentioned earlier?”

Bakugou nodded and you continued, “You called him Izuku but he kept telling you to call him Deku… is there a reason why?”

Bakugou considered you for a moment. “To be honest I have no fucking idea why he started it. When we were in college the only real sign I remember of Deku being… not well was there was a week that he didn’t show up to classes. Didn’t answer my texts, nothing. Then he came back and told me he wanted to be called Deku.”

He paused, sighing slightly. “It… The name ‘Deku’ was something I called him when we were kids. Did it to bully him and when we got older and I apologized I called him ‘Izuku’ like everyone else. So when he said he wanted to be called ‘Deku’ I got worried. Asked him if he was okay and he said he was fine and that it was a better name for his photography career. I didn’t wanna question him so… I just went with it.”

You nodded, taking in the information. Bakugou sighed again, closing his eyes momentarily. “There’s so much shit I wish I could change… about how I dealt with it all in the past. And so much fucking shit I wished I didn’t do.”

Your fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of his shirt. “Well, if even one little thing changed in your past, you probably wouldn’t be living the life you live today. You might not have your job, your friends, King…”

Bakugou hummed, leaning over and using his arm to maneuver you onto his lap. “You forgot something. I wouldn’t have met you.”

You smiled and nodded, caressing his cheek. “Yeah, that too.”

“So, you gonna keep rubbing me up and distracting me?” That little glint in his eyes returned, the look he had whenever he wanted to tease you.

You scoffed. “I wasn’t ‘rubbing you up!’ I was trying to… to soothe you, I don’t know.”

“Well it was soothing something else, I’ll tell you that.”

You smacked his chest. “You’re so nasty, you idiot.”

He laughed, resting his hand on your hip and giving it a squeeze. He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Maybe… this all happened for a reason. If Deku didn’t do his… plan to get back at me, I would’ve never met you. I’d have to find some other girl to piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, as if anyone else could put up with you.”

He smirked. “Yeah, you got me there.”

Bakugou looked back up to the scene before him. The kids ran around with their parents close by, calling out to them to be careful. There was also a group of students playing a game of baseball, some people playing fetch with their dogs, and it all felt so… peaceful. It felt odd for Bakugou.

Everything changed for him early that morning, in all aspects of his relationships. Obviously with Deku but also his relationship with you. Sure, it probably would’ve eventually happened, the two of you getting together. Bakugou sensed that when he realized he had feelings for you, but you wouldn’t be with him the way you were that day. With his arm around you, you curled up on his lap with your head against his chest, the scent of your perfume and shampoo drawing him in.

Bakugou leaned down and kissed you. When he pulled away, you looked startled. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Bakugou responded, squeezing your hip again. “Just kept thinking about it all and about you.”

You smiled. “What were you thinking about me?”

Bakugou took a moment before answering. “I thought about if I did do something different in the past, you definitely wouldn’t have been in my life. Deku would’ve had no reason to get revenge and would’ve never found you.”

His crimson eyes bore into yours as he shook his head slightly. “And I thought eventually when this feeling in my chest settles, when this doesn’t feel like a fucking nightmare on loop, this will all be worth it.”

Bakugou’s lips hovered over yours as he murmured, “I don’t wanna imagine a world without you. And I don't wanna change a thing to live in a world like that.”

A/N: and she’s done!!! i’m gonna go on a little sentimental spiel so bare with me. i started this series over five years ago. it was kinda random and i just had this idea in my mind without a clue on how to execute it or any idea on how it would play out. i honestly just wanted to write a mystic messenger au with just bakugou but decided to flesh it out more. who knew this series would be with me from my second year in undergrad (during covid mind you) to my second year in law school. the whole reason i made this series was for this moment 

anyways thank you so much for reading bakugou’s route! there is still the after ending coming soon (currently working on it rn). this was probably the fastest i ever finished a route lol so i’m glad i didn’t make you wait year(s) for the end (like some other routes OOP–). if you're done with this series and are not interested in reading the other routes, thank you so much for reading bakugou’s route! izuku’s route will take some time (mostly because i never did v or saeran’s routes when i played mystic messenger so i need to flesh it out a lot more than these other routes. it will most likely be very different format wise that these routes) i’ll also probably take a small break from the series before starting. thank you again!

[papijean]

Pretty Piercing

Summary: Part 1 Part 2: Kirishima got addicted to piercings - and he got such a pretty one just for you. Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, piercing needles + pierced penis, oral (m&f), fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, Kiri is a little too confident, cum eating, finger sucking, pet names, begging, size kink, lots of swearing, crying, sexual frustration, I know this piercing takes way longer to heal but for the sake of the plot lets pretend its only 2 weeks, kay? Word Count: 6.3k A/N: um what the hell guys... 3 years no writing to this. hope you all enjoy xxx

"(Y/N)!" 

Mina stood before you, pink hand waving in front of your face as she tried to reconnect you back to the world. Your head shook for a moment, recollecting your thoughts before mumbling out an apology. You could feel the warmth on your cheeks getting hotter and hotter while trying to shake away the lewd thoughts barreling through your mind. 

You'll have to take off all my clothes to find out. 

Kirishima had been so bold with his words, a new aura of confidence radiating off of him when he whispered them to you. You could still feel the warmth of his finger tipping your chin up to meet his eyes when they were glued to the ground with fluster. Did he always have that sultry tone in his voice? 

It wasn't hard to assume where he had gotten his new piercing - between the slight limp he had when he walked into the room and the suggestive tone he used. Why is what you wondered. What made him jump from no piercings to something like this in the span of a few months? What sparked him to make such a crazy decision?

"Geez you've been out of it for days now, what's going on? Are your classes getting difficult?" Mina cocked a brow at you. No, no it had nothing to do with your classes. 

No, it had everything to do with the red-haired man who trapped you between his big arms and his desk all while knowing his dick was probably aching, raw, and red with the new piercing he just got. It had everything to do with the fact that he grinned up at you beneath his long lashes like he'd done it just for you. 

You rubbed at the side of your neck, still feeling the way his lips ghosted over your skin. Soft, warm, leaving you little to imagine how fucking good they would feel everywhere on your body. 

"No," you shook your head, "I've been feeling a little under the weather." 

A little was an understatement. All you could feel was the ache between your legs, wanting and craving for something you never got. It was infuriating how it'd taken over your every thought, every dream with nothing making it go away. Your body was constantly an inferno, mimicking just how it'd felt when Kirishima left barely an inch of space between you. 

The heat didn't go away. It lingered and manifested into something you could barely control. It was degrading how every spare moment alone you felt your fingers dip beneath your underwear to find some sort of relief. It didn't work - nothing came close to giving you what you knew you needed. Him.

Mina leaned her head back on the couch, a tired sigh leaving her lips. You were supposed to be planning your next girls night but just as it was for the last few days you couldn't think straight enough to keep the conversation going. She gave up pretty quickly and deemed a movie might be better for now. 

"Take your vitamin C, I don't want to get sick because of you."

"Yeah, yeah," you waved her off as her attention went back to the movie. She may as well have let you daze off for the rest of the film, an hour in and you still had no idea what was going on. 

This blows. 

"Whatcha watching?"

Your whole body froze at the new voice. A wave of memories spilling over you instantly, legs pushing together at them. Eijiro. 

You were avoiding him, successfully too until now. You regretted letting Mina convince you to watch the movie out in the common room instead of her room. Achy, raw, and needy - that's how you've pictured his cock the last several days. Now it was leaning behind you, hands resting on the back of the couch on either side of your shoulders. 

Red hair lined your peripheral, your eyes not leaving the screen. Not even when he plopped down next you, close enough for his knee to knock into yours. There was plenty of space on the couch, he had no need to sit right there. 

You had no real reason to avoid him. It was your own stupid embarrassment that kept you away from him. Kirishima was overwhelming, his body, his scent, the sound of his low voice that was clearly meant to be heard by an intimate few. It was too much, he was too close too out of the blue that day and you couldn't handle it. 

The moment that his fingers grazed your waist last week... your cheeks heated again. This was horrible, you'd never be able to look at him properly again. God, the moan you had let out, with just a graze above clothes - it was horrifying. Truly traumatizing for you - and you assumed Kirishima as well. 

He was so shocked by the sound he froze on the spot. The two of you had stood there in silence before you finally mumbled out something along the lines of having to leave and pushing past him without looking back. He didn't say anything before his bedroom door nearly slammed shut and you were sprinting back to your room. 

Even though he was the one to get close to you that day, you couldn't get over the absolute embarrassment of how a little touch of his affected you. Even more so, you couldn't dare look him in the eyes ever again after touching yourself to the though of him multiple times a day. 

Mina told him the movie title, you still didn't know what was going on in it. Especially not over the next fifteen minutes of Kirishima sitting next to you, pushing his thigh closer and closer until it was completely flush against yours. Not a single muscle in your body moved. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

"You know I think I need to go lie down, I'm really not feeling well," you managed to choke out.

Your leg felt like it was on fire and your heart about to beat out of your chest. No, you were not okay at all. It took every ounce of strength to push yourself off the couch and scurry back into your room. 

You ached, so deliciously ached for him. Desperately hoping that maybe, just maybe he would follow you into your room. To give you everything you'd been dreaming about over the last few nights and end this suffering. 

Kirishima didn't come to your room that night. 

Or the next. 

Or the one after that. 

Friday night rolled around. You lost count of the number of times you tried to get off, each one ending in failure and frustration. It wasn't enough. Kirishima didn't interact with you at all since the day on the couch. At this point you didn't know what to think. You couldn't look at him without feeling humiliated and horny. Neither cancelled each other out. 

This was horrible. 

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. It was a never ending cycle of torture. Why did he have to get close to you like that? You'd been perfectly fine with hiding your attraction to him before that, there was never an issue. Now? Now you couldn't even hear his laugh three doors down without wanting to stick your hands in your pants. 

 A loud knock came to your door. Another groan into the pillow. 

"What?" You shouted loud enough for them to hear. Without another response they opened the door. Denki peeked his head through. "I didn't say come in what if I was naked?" 

"Then it would have been a great day," Denki pushed the door open wider. Red. You buried your face into the pillow again to collect your breath before sitting up in bed. "You've been locked in here all week, Mina said you weren't feeling well so we brought your some electrolytes and snacks." 

Denki held up a bag. Now you felt even worse. He'd taken the time to go get you things to help with this fake cold that you were lying about. Another item to tac onto the the list of things you felt shitty about. 

"You didn't have to go and do that, Denki. Thank you." 

He set the bag down on your desk, the door closing behind him and Kirishima as they stepped further into your room. Denki made himself comfortable in your chair, feet propped up on the edge of your bed. You focused on him, rather than Kirishima who leaned against the wall directly across from you. 

You could feel his eyes burning into you. Maybe due to the fact that you were wearing his hoodie. Or maybe he could sense what you had been doing in here thirty minutes prior. 

"Kiri, Jiro and I are headed out to that new noodle shop, are you feeling well enough to join?" Denki asked. You'd been thinking about that place for weeks now. As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to get stuck at a table with Kirishima all night either. Not when you couldn't even look over at him now. 

"I think I better stay in, next time though," You grimaced out a smile. "Thanks for checking in." 

"I'll stay in and take care of you," Eijiro finally spoke up. Your gaze reluctantly snapped over to him. His red eyes looked dark, mischievous with something. "If you're not well enough for noodles then you are in worse health than we thought." 

"I'm fine," you choked out. 

"Jiro and I can stay too!" 

"No," Kirishima's voice was firm as he quickly denied the offer. "You guys enjoy a night out just the two of you. I'll take care of her."

Your voice betrayed you. You wanted to argue that he should go with them, that you didn't need anyone to take care of you because you weren't actually sick. The last person you wanted to have take care of you was him. Not when you couldn't hold eye contact for more than three seconds or turn into a blaze when his skin just barely brushes yours. 

Denki wished you a relaxing night and to get well soon. He gave a small wave as he closed your bedroom door behind him, trapping you in the shrinking space. Eijiro still hadn't pushed himself off the wall yet, beefy arms crossed over his chest and ripping at the seams of his shirt. Your panties had to have been drenched. 

"Eiji I-" You started and stopped. There was a long silence. What the hell was going through his head right now? 

"Yes, Pretty?" There was no way he didn't notice your legs push together at the pet name. You heard him push off the wall and the slow steps he took towards you. Red slippers stood before you. Just as last time, Kirishima tipped your chin up with his finger. "Yes?" 

"I-" It didn't matter whatever you were trying to say, the words wouldn't come out. This was too much, he was too close. You could smell the lingering cologne he wore, wanting nothing more than to find a home in the crook of his neck and stay there forever. 

"Come on, Pretty, what can I do for you?" You tried to turn away from him but his fingers tightened on your chin. "Why don't you start with why you've been ignoring me?" 

"I haven't been..." Your jaw tightened. There was no use trying to lie to him right now, he knew already. "You haven't come to see me either." 

Kirishima's lips curled up into a smirk. "Have you been waiting for me? Thinking about me while you're wearing my hoodie in bed?" Where the hell did this confidence come from? 

You let out a huff of air. Why was his t shirt so tight? 

His grip let go but you kept his stare. If you looked away from his eyes now, you feared your graze would betray you and start starting at the rest of his body. Particularly, the reason that he got you so flustered to begin with. The new piercing. 

You'd been thinking about it for the last couple of weeks straight. Which one did he get? What pretty little jewelry did he choose? How much did his cock ache this whole time, begging for a little bit of pleasure to even out the pain? 

"You know what I think?" Kirishima filled your silence. "I think you've been holed up in here thinking about me. I got you all nice and excited about my new piercing and you can't even be sweet enough to ask me to see it. Hmm? Ask me to see what I got for you." 

Begrudgingly, your eyes drifted down his chest, landing on the same grey sweats he was wearing last time. The difference? The thick tent begging to be freed. 

Your hand lifted, single finger reaching out to him. It was an inch away from the waistband of his pants before you retreated. Curiosity got the best of you before coming to your senses. Kirishima grabbed your hand before it got out of reach. 

"Not even going to ask? Just going to take?" Kirishima chuckled. He hooked your finger into the waistband of his pants - when he let go the weight of your arm pulled them down an inch. Just enough to see a few dark hairs tuft out. "Come now Pretty, I want to show you the nice jewelry I got just for you." 

Holy fuck. This side of Kirishima was sexier than anything you had ever seen in your life. Was he hiding this all along? It didn't matter, all you knew was that you needed more of it. There was a good chance that if he walked out of here without making you cum you'd combust this time. 

"What did you get for me, Kiri?" You looked up at him with lust blown eyes. A quiet groan came out of him, he wanted to devour you while you looked at him like that. It was the first full sentence you managed to spit out in weeks. 

Kirishima gestured for you to keep pulling the hem of his pants down. He wanted you to take what was yours. 

You moaned at the site of him. Fuck, Eijiro was so thick and heavy against his torso. Heavy balls that looked so achy, like he'd been neglecting himself for weeks and was desperate to cum. Inch by inch you followed up his length until reaching his tip. So raw and red from what he put himself through. 

"An ampallang," he informed. A pretty pink barbell went horizontally through the tip of his cock. The same pink that you both had in your helix. He'd actually done it. "There were so many different ones to choose from but I thought this one was the prettiest for you." 

The pad of your finger gently traced over the pink barbell. Kirishima hissed between his teeth. You pulled your hand away in fear that it hurt him. 

"No please, don't stop," he begged. It's been weeks since he touched himself, waiting oh so patiently for it to be you who gave him first bit of pleasure since the appointment. "S'just sensitive still. Do you like it?" 

Your fingers traced around his tip, going over the cool metal along the way. His fingers clench into fists. Did it really feel that good? 

"Oh Eiji, it's so pretty," you cooed. And it was, it was so so pretty against his fat cock.  "It looks so tender, can... can I give it a little kiss?" 

"Fuck," he moaned out, "please, can you?" 

The sight alone of you on your knees before him was probably enough to make him cum. Kirishima thought he knew what made him feel good - everything he knew was wrong the second your lips touched the tip of his cock. His head of red hair fell back, loud moan filling the room. 

You kissed all around his tip, going over each side of the piercing that poked through. He was so sensitive and leaking already. Small licks cleaned his salty mess. He was so big, thick and long and heavy as you wrapped your fingers around the base. His fingers find their way to your hair as your lips wrap around him. 

He wants nothing more than to shove himself deeper but the sensation of your tongue rolling around the fresh piercing has him paralyzed. 

"Fuck," the prickle of pain starts at your scalp as his grip tightens. More, you can take more of him. It's an entirely new sensation, cold metal scrapping against your throat as you take him. "Oh my fucking god. S-shit s'good. Taking so much of me, Pretty." 

The hum of thanks you give him damn well nearly throws him into a spiral. His eyes are screwed shut, his free hand stabilizing himself against your bed frame. 

He's so fucking thick that your jaw already aches. A mess of drool dribbles down your chin, even more slicking up the inches of him that you can't take down your throat. The disgusting, slutty gags your letting out have his hips jerking. Deeper, he wants your gags louder until he's sure you can't take more of him. 

"S'good for me aren't you? Takin' me so fucking deep," Kirishima praises. His voice his rough and shaky already. He feels feral with your tongue gliding over him, swirling each time you reach the tip just take him to the back of your throat again. "ngh - you, please Pretty let me cum down your throat." 

There's a silent yes as you look up into his eyes. His pupils so blown out you barely see the rim of crimson around them. 

"Oh my god, your mouth is unreal," he groans. His eyes screw shut for a moment, lips parted with whines. It urges you to work harder for him. 

The gagging and bobbing of your head goes faster, deeper until your feeling the fist in your hair keep you in place so far down his cock that his pubes are threatening to brush against your nose. 

Hot bursts of his cum slide down your throat. You're a mess of choking and gagging, hot tears spilling at your eyes. Eijiro is loud, moaning your name with a string of curses that you'll never forget because this is quite possibly the hottest moment of your life. 

It feels like gallons getting dumped down your throat. Swallows and swallows later does he pull out of you with a loud, wet pop. Dribbles of him lay on your tongue and you can't help but stick it out to show him. 

"Fucking hell, stick it out more." He didn't hesitate to bend down, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you like he's been fucking dying to do for months. It's a clash of teeth and tongue, the mix of your spit and cum tangled together and it's damn well surpasses any man you've ever kissed before. 

His big arms are pulling you up off of the ground until your back lays flat on the bed. Kirishima's hands are needy as they find their way beneath his hoodie you're wearing, wandering at every piece of you. He can't help but moan into you as he realized there's nothing underneath. 

"Eiji," you whine. His fingers tease and pinch at your nipples. A particularly hard pinch has your back arching off the bed and the sudden wonder if maybe you should get another piercing - one on each nipple just for him. And when they're tender and sore he can be the one to suck them back to good health. 

"Do you ever wear a bra under this hoodie?" He questioned, giving your right tit a hard squeeze. Without any time to answer he's pulling it over your head. It's hard to tell who moans louder when his lips wrap around you now sensitive bud after all his pinching and teasing. 

"So fuckin' pretty," he switches to the other, a string of spit connecting over your chest. Sharp teeth graze you, latching down with a grin as you gasp at the sensation. "Answer my question." 

It's hard to when he's biting down on the underside of your tits, lapping up each mark just to move on and do it again. His teeth marks are going to be littered all over you, without a doubt. 

"N-no," you stutter out, fingers deep in his hair. There's a war going on if you want to pull him up to kiss you or push him further down where you've been aching for weeks. "Kiss me, Kiri, please, please kiss me again." 

He's hard against you again, jutting his hips into your clothed pussy as he kisses you with so much force you fear you might pass out. His hands are everywhere except where you need them most. 

Quiet whines escape Kirishima between kisses. He's so hard again it hurts and grinding up against the steaming hot apex of your thighs isn't enough to dissolve the pain. 

"Haven't been able to touch myself in fucking weeks," he mumbles out between the clash of tongues you're fighting against. 

The material of his shirt drags further up his chest until he's sick of it between you and he's pulling it off his body. There were many times you'd seen him shirtless, none came close to comparing to now. 

Gloriously bare before you, every part of him was ripped with muscle and tension. For the first time in a long time he made you feel small before him. He's up on his knees, your legs trapped between them. One hand lazily jerking himself as he admires you beneath him - like he still can't quite believe you're really there.

"Couldn't until it was healed 'n didn't want to until it was you touching it first. And here you are taking all my cum like that." 

There's a good possibility you nearly came just from hearing him speak like that. 

Two fingers latch onto either side of the band of your shorts. He barely waits for the confirming nod you give him before their yanked down in one motion. 

Eijiro moans at the sight of you slick folds. He knew you'd be soaked for him, could feel it through the material of your shorts as he rutted against you like a desperate teen. He knew better than to just force his cock into that tight leaky hole, knew you wouldn't be able to take him without some help before hand. But fuck did you not make it easy. 

"Look at this mess," he gasps, strong hands prying your thighs apart so he can get a better view and keep you from pressing those legs together to hide from him. 

"Knew you'd have the prettiest fucking cunt. Couldn't even be in the same fucking room as you these last few weeks or I'd be bending you over ever surface." 

He loves the way you whimper to his confession. There was a reason he was avoiding you too, a reason his balls were sooo full of cum. He was so desperate for you since that night. Maybe he wasn't expecting to see you in his room, waiting there all cute and patiently. It certainly left a last impact for the weeks to come. Who knows how differently it would be if you didn't decide to go wait for him. 

Maybe you wouldn't be having his finger gliding up and down your drenched folds, teasing and taunting the bits of you that needed him. 

"Eiji," you whined, clawing at his arms in hopes he'd give you more. "Please I need you. Need you s'bad it's been aching for weeks now." 

"What's been aching, baby?" He leans in close, your legs wrapped around his waist the length of him glides between your syrupy folds. Your whimper fills the space, louder as he rocks his hips again. 

It isn't until the tip of his cock, piercing and all, rubs against your needy clit does a moan erupt. Louder than anything you've given before. A grin lights up his face, excitedness in his eyes and you see the excited kid you graduated high school with again. 

His thick, calloused fingers reach between you again. "Has she been aching all week?" He asks. A tiny, embarrassed nod greets him. The tip of his fingers tease you again. "Did you touch yourself?" Another small nod. Slowly, a single digit presses into you. 

Your nails dig into his beefy shoulders, head back as you whine at the relief. Just one of his can do more than any amount of your own. 

"Did it help?" Kirishima asks, lazily gliding his finger in and out. It's not nearly enough but you know when he takes it seriously it's not going to be long. He looks thrilled when you shake your head no. "Listen to yourself, so sloppy down here and I've barely touched you. Have you been this wet all week or was it just from sucking me off?" 

Both, probably. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he adds another. He's right - it's a disgustingly sloppy sound that emits from you. Wet and willing for all of him to take. It only gets louder as he increase his speed. 

"Eiji - s'fuckin' oh my god!" You squeal. It's so much, everything that you needed when your fingers couldn't do anything for you. His lips are on your, masking your moans as your nails scrape down his muscular back. "Please make me cum, n-need it so bad." 

Kirishima couldn't fathom the idea of not letting you cum. It wasn't going to be once or twice that you would be crying out for him. He's a leaking mess again just from hearing you now, he needed to know what you sounded like when you reached your peak. He needed it engraved in his mind - every bit of it. 

His fingers are so much bigger than yours - when he adds a third the stretch almost hurts. Louder. Louder. Louder. 

His lips are all over you, incoherent praises driving you closer to the edge. It doesn't take much when you feel him curl inside you. Over and over he's pressing into that sweet spongey spot you can't reach on your own. Kirishima whines as your walls clamp down, back arching off the bed and the cry of his name off your lips. 

"Kiri, Kiri, Kiri," you're chanting his name like it's the only piece of information on your mind. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing at all until you stop spasming around him. Relief, finally after your weeks of frustration. "s'too good." 

Slowly, he pulls away. His fingers glisten in the dim lighting with your juices. One by one, he sucks each of them clean. It's lewd how turned on he is tasting - moaning and licking up each drop like ambrosia. 

"Taste divine, you know that? You know how sexy you looked just now?" You could tell just by how hard his dick was. Waiting to find home in you. 

"Please Eiji, want you inside," you beg, reaching for him. He doesn't give you the chance. There's no hesitation as his red hair dives between your legs, kissing and sucking up your inner things until he nearly reaches your pulsating hole. 

"Sorry, Pretty, you need to be wetter before you can take me. I don't want to hurt you." He's right. Your jaw was hurting so much you knew how thick he was. Kirishima gives a particularly hard bite to your thigh, lapping at it all the way up to your needy clit. "So sweet, you taste so good. I want to make you cum like this for hours." 

You're sure he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Messy and unrelenting, just as he has been this whole night. His arms are tight around each of your legs, keeping them spread nice and wide for him. He moans into your cunt every time you pull at his dark roots. 

"S'too much Eiji," you were still reeling in the euphoria of your orgasm and here he was trying to drive you right back to another one. His lips encased your clit, sucking and licking with the most vulgar sounds. He doesn't even take a moment to breathe - not when you're grinding your hips deeper onto his lips and crying out so desperately. 

His hips grind into your mattress, smearing all that delicious precum you wanted to lick up again into your sheets. How can he not when you sound so angelic for him? Kirishima's mind raced but he couldn't even take a moment to spew them out loud. He was engrossed with slurping up every drop of your juice. 

"Kiri!" You nearly shouted, "S'too much please, please can't." 

The tight feeling in your lower belly swelled again, closer and closer as he feverishly sucked and moaned into you. Your legs fought against his hold, anything to try and ease this overwhelming feeling. 

And then it was gone. Suddenly and aggressively the build up stopped with Kirishima grinning up at you with his chin covered in your slick. A dry sob racked your chest. 

"Sorry, baby," he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "You said it was too much, I didn't want you getting overwhelmed before I got to be inside you." 

It wasn't the full truth - Kirishima was so close to cumming that he feared he wouldn't be able to hold it if you came on his tongue like that. 

You watched him breathlessly while he reached down to his sweatpants. The deep pocket had 2 condoms in it - he came fully knowing how this night was going to end. He tore one of them open and quickly rolled it onto his thick length. Looking at it again, you were grateful he took the time to prep you more. 

"I'll go slow," he assured as if sensing your thoughts. The pink barbell was muted through the latex. Kirishima teased the tip at your entrance. Barely an inch inside and you were feeling the immense stretch. A loud hiss slipped between his lips. 

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He made a similar noise when you licked around the piercing. 

"Feels un-fucking-real." He choked out a string of curse, "I'm not going to be able to last if you're going to be sucking me in like this." 

Between the sensation of his new piercing and you pussy he swore he was seeing stars. Every sound that comes from him is raw and filled with need. You're so tight around him, blazing heat.

"Eiji, ngh! You're so big," you mewl. Your walls stretch impossibly for him, taking him bit by bit until you swear he's in your lungs. The tears well again, "Slower." 

He couldn't go any slower. "We're over halfway, you're taking me so well, Pretty. So, fuck - can't be squeezing me like that right now." Kirishima had to run math through his head so he doesn't cum before he's even fully sheathed inside of you. "Just relax for me, you can take it all I know you can. You need this don't you?" 

He pulls out a little, this time going deeper than before when he pushes back in. Your nails are back in his arms, each of them resting at the elbow on either side of you. His breath is ragged in your ear and his lips grazing your shoulder. 

"That's it baby, almost there," he assures. Kirishima makes the mistake raising his head to look at you. There's a daze in your sex-blown eyes, lips parted and covered in drool. Whatever bit of self control he had vanished and the last couple of inches you were struggling to take was snapped into you. 

You cried out at the sudden stretch, hiding into the crook of his shoulder as he whispered apologize and praises to you. The tears that kept building all night finally fell. He kissed them all away before meeting your lips. 

"M'sorry baby, you're doing so well," Kirishima's confidence he's been wearing for weeks diminishes in an instant. He's worried about hurting you and so overwhelmed that he knows he'll be coming in a matter of minutes. He's back to being sweet and shy and kissing you to ignore the nerves running through him. "m'sorry." 

"S'okay, Eiji," you hiccup, "I can take it, please I wanna cum all over your cock." 

He searches your eyes for a moment, looking for any bit of hesitance in them. There's none, not a single fleck because you're so desperate for him that you can take it. He kisses you hard. His tongue slipping between your lips and dominating every space in your mouth, down your throat. 

His hips are slow at first, just small movements until it doesn't feel like he's suffocating inside you anymore. It's not until you're moaning softly does he kneel upright, pulling your legs over his shoulders and bending over until they're nearly into your chest. 

"Eijiro!" He's so deep like this - angled just so right that he's hitting the sweet spot inside you over and over again. You're babbling out his name like a prayer, so fucked out already that you can't even think properly. He must be the same, mumbling out how good you're making him feel. 

"M'not gonna last long Pretty, you feel too fucking good," he confesses. Kirishima bends you impossibly further in half going even deeper than before. "But I need you to cum first, will you? For me?" 

His thumb rubs messy circles into your clit. He refuses to cum before feeling you squeeze around him like you did to his fingers. No fucking shot. His hips snap loudly against yours along with the creamy ring around the base of his cock smacking into your wet cunt. He can't look down between you - not when he knows the sight alone would make him release. 

Your hands are everywhere on him. Across his broad chest, between the deep lines of his abs, all across his marked up back. No matter where you try and latch onto it's not enough. Nothing is grounding enough to keep you fully in the realm of reality while he's fucking you like this. While he's shamelessly moaning into the shell of your ear, nipping at every bit of skin he can reach. 

"m'gonna cum," you cry out. His fingers move faster, hips harder. 

"Cum for me Pretty," he urges. It's too much, the way he's drilling into you and whispering sweet praises of how good your pussy feels - that's he's right behind you. You feel it everywhere - feel him everywhere. "Yeah baby, you can do it - cum all over me." 

The muscles in your legs tighten first, then your fists on his biceps. His lips are against your exposed neck, easing the cries that come from it. It's too much as he fucks you through it, harder this time. He's chasing his own as he fulfills yours. He's obsessed with the way you're crying out his name. 

Pleasure rolls over you, not stopping even when you're sure your orgasm is over. Your body feels electric as it takes his ruthless pounding. Harder and harder until he's begging you to let him cum inside you. His teeth are sharp as they sink into your shoulder, muffling the moans he can't control. 

He's a mess - hips erratic, cursed moans, even his own tears are glistening. His cock pulsates with a final cry of your name, body tense as his release fills the condom. He had so much cum the first time you almost wished he wasn't wearing it so he could fill you up. 

Kirishima noticed the whimper you make as he slowly pulls out of you. Never have you felt so empty before. He slides of the full condom before tying it up and tossing it into the trash. Residual dribbles fall onto your ruined sheets. 

You can't help but reach a finger out to swipe his tip and collect the remaining bit. He watches so intensely as you suck it all off. 

"You're going to get me hard, again, if you keep doing that," he threatens. Kirishima hovers over you, kissing you softly. As his breathing calms, he's back to himself - as if his release washed away the confidence he maintained. "Are you feeling okay?" 

"Okay?" You cocked an eyebrow. He lay beside you, head propped up on hand. You mimicked the position. "Eijiro you literally gave me the best sex of my life - probably the best sex I'll ever have in my life. I'm far better than okay." 

He buries his face into your pillow. "But was I too rough with you?" He peaks one eye out. You reach over, tucking the hairs away from his face and exposing the line of piercings along his ear. Gently, your fingers trace over each one of them. They've all healed perfectly. He visibly shivers at the sensation. 

"No," you promise. "Is your dick okay? Any soreness from the piercing?" 

His cheeks flare red, suddenly embarrassed. "It's fine. Tender but no pain. Felt... different for sure. I liked it." 

So did you. Too much maybe. Enough that you wanted to know what it would feel like without a condom. How that cold metal would feel against your warm walls. How it'd feel to cum around it. Next time. 

"Are you going to tell me what sparked your idea to get it?" There's a knowing glint in his eyes. His big hand cups your cheek, thumb gliding across your skin in such a loving way. You needed this - all of this with him. You felt... at home like this. 

"I already told you, I got it just for you." 

[citrustsuki]

IF U DO ANYTHING BEFORE U DIE ITS READING THIS

[4everwithm3]

hi guys tumblr lowk intimidates me so i rarely use it but bff says to post my fics here so i will do that i guess.

here is a self indulgent bakugou x reader hurt/comfort i just finished where they drink together and reader gets real sad. read it maybe but maybe dont actually cuz im scared idk. love you all !

(it’s like 8k words and also vomit warning but it’s not very descriptive) (wait hello changing the colors is so fun yay have a lesbian flag)

You and Bakugou sat across from each other on the floor of his dorm room. Between you rested a half-empty bottle of vodka, two full shot glasses, a pair of dice, and a beat-up, handmade game board with two random pieces of trash on top.

It had once been pristine, deftly constructed and decorated exactly as the random YouTube tutorial had instructed, but it has since been worn down by usage and travel over the years.

You made it way back in the final month of summer break before starting high school, after getting your hands on a bottle of tequila that you knew your parents wouldn’t care to realize was gone. After giving it much thought, you decided you wanted to experience being drunk in a controlled environment before doing so at a party and/or through peer pressure. The game was part of your attempt at persuading Bakugou to drink it with you.

You expected him to firmly stand his ground about staying out of trouble (or, not doing stupid shit, as he would put it), so you carefully curated your coercion, perfecting your sly tone: “I mean, c’mon, I already have the alcohol, the classic red solo cups, and a super duper fun drinking game— lovingly handmade, by the way, so even more special and awesome. It’d be so wasteful, so wrong, really, to not do anything about it. So I definitely will be. And you don’t want me drinking alone, do you?” you had said with wiggling eyebrows while prodding at his sides with your fingers and elbow intermittently.

And, to your surprise, he caved in pretty quickly. (Though it never took much effort for you, and only you, to convince him of most anything that you actually considered important. Not that you have ever been anything but entirely oblivious to that, despite your friendship spanning the majority of your lives.) Of course, not without pointing out that you’re full of shit and can’t use the board game as a reason for drinking if the reason you made the board game was to drink.

Nonetheless, that night you made yourselves comfortable on the carpet of your bedroom floor with all the items you’d previously mentioned and seen as successful bribes.

But, until it became fully relevant, you didn’t think about what you’d use to move across the board. You didn’t want to get up, either, so you slid off two of the many rings you used to always stack on your fingers. Bakugou rolled his eyes and stopped you before you placed them down, mumbling something about you keeping them on for reasons that fell inaudible to your ears, as he sat up and leaned over toward the area underneath your desk where garbage piled atop a miniature bin. From it, he grabbed a plastic water bottle, took the cap off, and tossed it near his feet. Then, he took a soda can, twisted and broke the metal tab off, and threw it at your leg hard enough to make a relatively loud thud but not seriously hurt you. Thus began the tradition of random junk in lieu of actual game pieces.

Then you started playing, and the game managed to keep you sipping your drinks at about the same pace. You slowly began feeling the effects creep up on you until the night became a blur of juvenile jokes and rambunctious ramblings filled with extremely excessive laughter (the majority of all of which came from you, but he enjoyed himself just as much as you did, regardless).

However, karma has a funny way of choosing to act at the most annoying times, as your illegal activities came around to bite you in the asses the next morning when you both woke up feeling worse than you ever imagined possible: stickily unclean, exhausted to the bone, disgustingly nauseated, and, in your case, anxious as fuck.

That day, you swore off drinking altogether for the rest of your days, the idea of touching another drop in this lifetime sending a shiver down your spine. Until, of course, you physically and mentally recovered, remembered how absolutely fun being drunk was, and got right over it. Still, you made sure to highly familiarize yourself with your limits, and even now, you mainly keep it to social events.

That, and times when you just really needed to take the fucking edge off. When classes and studying and work and your own damn brain were all just too much and too loud, and you solely, entirely craved a night made up purely of fun and silliness of a specific variety that only alcohol can provide. Although, you never wanted to resort to drinking alone, because that felt just a little too pathetic for your liking. So, whenever you and Bakugou had coinciding rough weeks, you would drink together at the end of them. Of course, you never wanted him to have a hard time; you hated to see him genuinely overly stressed (and unbeknownst to you, vice versa). But on the other hand, you would never pass up the opportunity for a good distraction from your frequently painstaking thoughts and, more so, you loved being drunk without other people around; just you and Bakugou, alone (the way you preferred to do most things, whether or not you fully realized such).

And talk about a rough week: this one, you felt like you’d been pulling around a ball and chain on each of your limbs every second of it, struggling to keep up with your responsibilities after falling the slightest bit behind, struggling to keep your line of thoughts focused and even remotely positive, and struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep every single night.

Which brings you to now.

You sat with your legs resting folded, one on top of the other, and one arm outstretched to prop yourself up with the palm of your hand pressing hard against the floor. Your other hand endlessly rattled and fiddled with the dice in it, instead of actually rolling them. That arm rested limply across your legs, much like your head, which slumped against your own shoulder lazily as your eyes looked intently at the board before you.

Your mind, though, was elsewhere. Unsurprisingly so, with how gone you were suddenly feeling— all those shots had to catch up eventually, you supposed, and the most recent must have finally done the trick. Even before the first one was taken, you knew you didn’t exactly care to take it easy tonight. Apparently, you manifested that a little too hard, though, as all of the board game gods have simultaneously struck down to forge the most targeted game ever. Bakugou was barely past tipsy, where you were likely not all that far away from tapping out for the night.

Especially considering that something uncommon was happening. Maybe it was from the sleep deprivation, or maybe your mental psyche had simply been too negative for it to stop now, but your bad thoughts remained, hauntingly lingering and even taking new forms, preventing you from fully leaning into the ecstasy of being drunk with your best friend.

Your eyes suddenly darted up to meet his. It happened quicker than you expected as a result of his having already been looking into yours, and you tried to ignore the way your heart stuttered at that fact. As you momentarily studied his face, you wished you could just think of something funny to say that would send you both (mostly you) into a happy fit of laughter. Usually, you were an energetic and very giggly drunk. Unfortunately, it truly seemed it had been too long a week for that side to come out at all.

“Kats’ki?” you asked softly instead as your hand with the dice ceased in its fidgeting. You forced a small smile along with it despite the nature of what you felt and what you were thinking about saying. You did sound more energized than you looked, but, to be fair, that was a pretty low bar.

The sound of your voice shook him out of the slight daze his tipsy mind had entered while focused on the view of you.

A gentle smile of his own (purely inherent, unlike yours) brushed his features as he let out a slight huff of a laugh at the way you slurred together the sounds of his name, your sudden yet clear drunken drowsiness working its usual magic and amusing him as it always does. He took your obviously sloppy conduct as an effect of such, failing to realize the hurt behind it.

“‘Sup?” he half-mumbled in response as his gaze strayed slightly from your eyes in order to further observe your entire form. As he did, he realized he may just be more intoxicated than he previously presumed, catching himself just in time before attaching a “babe” to the end of that. You probably wouldn’t have thought much of it if he did. Considering your state, you may not even notice at all. It can easily be meant in a casual way; Ashido and Kaminari use it amongst your friend group more than plenty, and the others throw it around here and there too. If you did pick up on it, you would think he meant it platonically, he would let you think that, it’d be fine, it’d be normal— But he knows that that’s not how he would have intended it at all. And he doesn’t wanna say it, or anything like it, unless you know that too.

You took a bit of time before you spoke up again, somewhat squinting at him instead, continuing to take in the look of his face through your current hazy lens. Your mind was now zeroed in on him, momentarily thinking of nothing else but all the things that make him who he is, all the things you admire and adore. But soon enough, your thoughts of corruption re-crept their way in, stirring you back to where you were.

You bit your lip timidly, more so feeling your emotions than you were actually thinking them through.

“Can I ask you something?” you queried, voice continuing in its gentleness, with but an ounce of unsureness (the suppressed sober version of yourself, you were sure) just barely held back from seeping through.

The corners of his mouth continued to rise reactively at the sound of your loosely enunciated words.

“Ya just did,” he retorted teasingly, just as he does every time you ask him that question. Still, you reacted like it was the very first time the words had left his lips and like he’d said something beyond clever, letting out a genuine and hearty giggle that brought your head up from its resting position.

You mumbled out a small “true” as your laughter concluded.

Then, your smile swiftly faded into something significantly sadder, once again returning from the distraction he temporarily provided.

Bakugou, of course, immediately noticed your quick shift in demeanor. It caught him off guard, tugging his brows downward and giving him a flash of something uncomfortable in his chest. He tensed up in concerned anticipation as to what the hell you were going to ask him that made you look… like that, even while drunk.

You, in turn, noticed the way his peaceful expression was abruptly disturbed, and it washed a thick wave of paranoia over you.

Where did that come from? you worried. What had you done to make it happen? You must have fucked up, must have drunkenly done something stupid out of nowhere without realizing it.

You suddenly felt the intensity of his stare too strongly, despite its unwavering kind and careful qualities that you had neglected to pick up on. You broke the eye contact that you had initiated, even if it physically and mentally felt a little wrong to do so, missing the way that such action made his brows knit together even tighter. Your sights returned to the now abandoned game board, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to feel his eyes on you anyway. You still felt a certain antsy tingle throughout yourself knowing he was watching you, making you awkwardly shift positions into a more upright sit with crossed legs. This was quickly followed by the return of your toying with the dice, now tossing them from hand to hand in your lap.

That only threw him off even further, immediately spiking his impatience and worry.

“Go for it already,” he said, attempting to suppress his gruff uneasiness but only half succeeding. Your eyes instinctively flicked back up to his upon hearing him speak, and his heart squeezed at the palpable distress behind them. “What did you wanna ask?”

You felt a brief but oddly warm tingle, thankfully beginning to feel like your previous worries about his current position might just have been misplaced. Despite such a spike in hope, you stayed still another moment. Then, you opened your mouth to speak, but only before closing it again. You did want to let yourself confide in him, especially with his shockingly soft urging of such. However, truly speaking your mind, in any case whatsoever, was never even close to a comfortable notion.

He could practically see the gears turning in your head, which only promoted the same in his own, until you finally did decide to at least try to speak up, your volume high in an attempt to compensate for your lack of confidence.

“Do you ever- Er, actually... Ok, like, I just feel like- I mean, well- Do you-“ you started, struggling immensely to actually verbalize your complex and layered thoughts.

You closed your eyes and let out a frustrated huff at the wholehearted confliction you felt. When you opened them again, you opted to return to avoiding his gaze, now looking down at your hands instead, holding the dice motionless and pretending to study them.

“Never mind, actually… It’s stupid, really. Just forget I said anything, please,” you decided with an undoubtedly forced smile and a voice that retreated back to its prior magnitude, or lack thereof.

What the fuck was going on with you? No way in hell was he ever going to “just forget it.” Even if he tried to, it wouldn’t happen. Something was clearly very wrong, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do something about it. Not that he was exactly sure what that something would be, but he knew he would figure it the fuck out. For you.

“Fuck that,” he declared, and you mistook his slight worry-born aggression for anger at you, making your stomach plummet anxiously.

“You’re too drunk to be all in your head, shit’s not good for you,” he continued sincerely. “Just ask me whatever you wanna ask me… Please. You can talk to me.”

Your heart and stomach alike now felt fluttery at the way his tone was unexpectedly and jarringly softer than you ever could have possibly prepared for. It somewhat eased the tension in your body and, though less so, your mind. You slowly looked back up. As you yet again reengaged your eyes on his, you went a little stiff with even further surprise at the look on his face.

That look couldn’t be for you, could it? No, it was much too gentle, far too caring. It almost felt completely foreign to see. It… must have been out of self-preservation or something, right? Because he knew you were about to say some annoying bullshit that he didn’t want to hear. But, then again… that really couldn’t be the case. At least not entirely. It simply wouldn’t make any sense, seeing as he’s the one who was urging you to continue. You knew that he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t really want you to.

Your subject of thought (Bakugou’s face, of course) twitched impatiently, snapping you out of this new line of conflicted thought and reminding you of what you just about forgot: you were still in the middle of this situation, not replaying and rethinking the memory of it. You would much prefer that to be the case.

You regretted starting this at all in the first place, seeing as he really did not need to know the things that were meant to stay safely contained in your head. He did not need to have a reason to think of you as some self-pitying loser; Even if that’s kind of what you think of yourself.

Even though you knew it would probably annoy him further, you wanted to at least prolong this continuing as much as you possibly could, and an idea for a chance to achieve such had suddenly wormed its way in via your peripheral sights.

“…Let’s take our shots first!” you decided with a tired raising of one shoulder that you assumed would come off as a lot more playful than it actually did.

His face promptly contorted into complete bewilderment, not at all expecting the outrageous request. “Hell no, you fuckin’ crazy? You’ve had plenty.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, this time with it actually reading as such due to its more honest nature.

“Okay, fine,” you sighed reluctantly.

The corners of his lips pulled upward, glad you agreed with him so easily.

“Buuut,” you drew out, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow, “you at least have to take yours. It’s not fair that I’m like way, way drunker than you.”

“You gotta catch up to me at least a teensy bit, ya just gotta,” you determined with finality as you pointed an accusatory finger his way.

He didn’t respond verbally, instead looking at you for just a beat before picking up his shot glass and confidently downing it. He set it back on the floor and gave you a raised brow look. Too focused on the topic at hand, his appearance was entirely deficient of any disgust resulting from the always-unpleasant taste of straight alcohol (especially your alcohol of choice, always insisting “the stronger the better”).

“There. Done. Now spit it out already.”

Your face flashed with something akin to awe. You felt a unique wave of butterflies at the way he did as you asked of him so immediately, so wholeheartedly, so lacking in hesitation.

A light smile graced your lips, which made him subconsciously smile back a bit.

“Okay, now take my shot too,” you rushed out in a quiet voice, scared that if you said it too harshly, he wouldn’t listen again.

He took a second to process what it was that you said, and then it was his turn to roll his eyes, though with just as much lightheartedness.

“You serious right now?”

You simply nodded enthusiastically, smile remaining and even growing.

Which was something he was always innately enraptured by.

So, he slid the game far to the left (he could have just reached over it as it wasn’t interfering whatsoever, but he figured it might as well be out of the picture altogether since you were clearly both done with it) and snaked his arm forward to grab hold of the glass in front of your legs and bring it toward himself.

Then, he looked at you, with what you happily accepted to be nothing more than a vague sincerity, and he shook his head softly before cheers-ing the air (which made your smile continue to widen as he knew it would) and pounding back another.

You gave a small but no less pleased “woo!” as he set it down, and he airily laughed at your antics.

“Alright, c’mon, ‘T’s your turn now. Hell’s up in that head of yours, huh?”

Your smile instantly dropped, the real subject at hand having slipped from your mind— as it had now done repeatedly— until those words left his lips.

When he saw your face fall, he instantly mirrored the expression that overtook your features.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath almost involuntarily.

“Shouldn’t have fuckin’ said anything if you stopped thinking about it anyway… Sorry.

Your stomach flipped, and your brows instinctively furrowed in a surprised manner at his retraction and, more so, his exceptionally (for him, that is) sincere apology, continuously unused to the act, and accompanying feelings, of noticing his care and uncharacteristic gentleness on your behalf.

“No, no,” you quickly reassured with a small shake of your head. “Don’t worry about it. I probably woulda remembered it again on my own anyway. Or even something else just as bad, or maybe worse. So, yeah, ‘t’s fine. Swear.”

Despite your attempt to quell it, his frown only hardened at that. You figured taking away any guilt he felt would improve his state, but you failed to realize how much more hurt he would feel at the strengthened thought of your inner turmoil.

“Alright then, so just- just get it out of your system already,” he said, with a nervousness that was unfamiliar to both parties.

You let out a small, quivering breath of acceptance that this was, in fact, happening, before finally going for it and fighting your unrelenting desire to escape having to do so.

“Are you… just, like, used to me?” you asked, choosing your words more instinctively than thoughtfully, too focused on your already bated breath and twitching digits from awaiting what he would say. You failed to take your vagueness into account, as the question already had an abundance of context in your mind.

Now that you had actually begun airing out your negative thoughts, you found it too risky to break eye contact this time. Whether or not you would be grateful to yourself for the fact, you felt the need to take in his full reactions to such, even if your current self may not be able to decipher them correctly. So, you watched in stiff uneasiness as his upset expression contorted, and further descended into such emotion.

He squinted his eyes at you, confused, as he sat with your words and tried to process them.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You stared blankly for a moment. Then, your nerves couldn’t contain the small, entirely humorless laugh that naturally left your lips as a sort of defense mechanism. “Right; That wasn’t really enough to make sense, was it? Sorry,” you said with a franticness lacing your words, followed by another minute empty laugh. Inside, you cursed at your continued idiocy, remaining in your hatred for being in this position, especially like this. But you knew he would refuse to let it go, even more so now with how you’ve been handling it.

He stared at you, hard and perturbed.

“Right, okay. For real now, I guess. I just mean, are you like, y’know, just used to having me around, or do you… actually enjoy my company?”

He physically recoiled the moment the words hit his ears.

His brain instantly replayed them, along with your previous drafted version, and continued to do so, trying to read your every thought and emotion that showed through them, though your tone, and through your body language. It was happening sloppily and all in an instant, doing nothing but causing him more distress.

“Wha-” he choked out, unable to form a sentence of his own yet. His voice came out strained and weak with a struggle, despite the intense look on his face.

He was utterly aghast at the question and at how much he could tell you really were unsure of the answer, obvious in the way you attempted and tremendously failed to ask it casually, like it was nothing, and like the answer didn’t matter to you.

This was absolute bullshit. You’re his best fucking friend. Didn’t you know that? Wasn’t he yours?

Shouldn’t you at the very least partially know just how much you mean to him?

For a still and complete minute, you sat unmoving with a terribly unsteady heart. You watched intently, though nervously, as Bakugou’s features trembled and his expression faltered between anger and something else— something you found yourself entirely unable to read, which rarely happened in your time of knowing him better than you know anyone else, and better than anyone else knows him.

It scrunched up as he finally found words, and your heart beat sped up in anticipation of whatever was about to leave his lips.

“Where the fuck did you get that idea from?” he sharply snapped.

You flinched back in surprise as an unfamiliar sharp pain dispersed throughout your body.

You very much did not take it in the way he thought he clearly meant it, currently far too primed to assume the worst.

Oh, was all you could think as your heart and face fell, the former feeling as if it had been forced out of your chest altogether.

When he saw your physical reaction and the expression that took over your soft features, his heart squeezed tightly and painfully.

He sat up a little straighter, shook his head, and slightly raised his hands in a defensive position— his movements now feeling heavier and fuzzier due to the back-to-back shots settling in— as he rushed to clarify, voice significantly softer than it was just a second ago.

“Damnit, no, not- not like that. ’M sorry that I… said it so harsh. But I didn’t mean it like that,” he steadily affirmed.

You felt a little whiplashed by the quick turnaround, but it wasn’t too different from the already-existing drunken delirium that coated your back-and-forth dialogue, so you were far more focused on his words— on his second and equally unlike-him apology— and his returning gentle tone.

You perked back up, a glimmer of hope teetering back into your expression and movements. His heart fluttered lightly with relief at the sight, and he once again found himself wondering how the hell you were asking him a question like this— how you never saw all the little ways he, both consciously and subconsciously, cares for you, unlike any other.

Your mind was blank for once as your body sat motionless but tightly wound in anticipation of what thoughts he would fill it with— of what he did mean. Your eyes were filled to the brim with emotion as you worriedly stared him down. Fear was at the forefront of such, your irrationality remaining.

He looked at you with worry and fear of his own as he continued no less confidently in setting the record straight.

“Listen to me,” he started keenly, his eyes locked on yours fiercely but nonetheless gently. “You know damn well that I don’t do shit that I don’t wanna do. Not for anyone. Not even for someone I’ve known my whole life. I don’t hang out with you every day, or study for every exam with you, or do homework with you and check all your answers like you always ask me to, or eat lunch with you even when you eat gross shit, or answer all your random annoying ass texts, or everything the fuck else, because I’m ‘used to you.’ I do it because I want to. Because you’re my best friend— by choice. Because you’re the best fuckin’ person I’ve ever known. And there’s no one else I’d ever wanna be around even half as much. Anyone else, I’d seriously be pissed as hell and probably woulda killed ‘em by now. Even if I knew them my whole life too.”

You took in every word he uttered in what felt like slow motion.

As he spoke, your lips somewhat parted, your eyebrows creased together and raised a bit, and your eyes shifted to resemble those of a baby deer.

You sat still in such state for a beat that Bakugou thought to be much too long. His body tensed as he anxiously awaited your response, internally begging for you to be receptive. He had no idea what had caused this in the first place, but he needed to put an end to it, and he hoped that that was enough to (especially considering that he figured adding anything more might give too much away).

Your lips tightened back together, possibly indicating you’ve finally settled on your updated stance, which sent a jolt through his still-faltered form.

You truly never expected him to say anything like that. You were utterly relieved and beyond honored that he did. It was almost hard to fathom at all.

While, all things considered, it made sense that he genuinely valued you so much, you never found it possible for you to convince yourself it was actually the case.

So, hearing him say it was sort of entirely blowing your mind. Especially while being drunk as all hell.

And it was just a little too emotion-inducing to handle.

Instead of any words, tears suddenly came rolling down your cheeks, soaking them completely in an instant, as a small whimper escaped your throat.

Bakugou jumped in his skin, shocked to his core by the unexpected sight. His eyes opened dramatically wide as anguish devoured his entire being, inside and out from head to toe.

You only partially took in his reaction, immediately bringing up a hand to cover your face out of embarrassment. Your fingers reached your hairline, then raked into the hair in a mildly aggressive manner, your head leaning into your touch to better hide yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a vocal break, shaking your head as you did, and shutting your eyes with the hope that doing so may help to slow down the droplets coming from them.

The boy felt his heart crack the second your voice did.

If most people started crying in front of Katsuki Bakugou, he would tell them to toughen the hell up or go be a baby somewhere else. But when it was you, all he could ever think about was how undeniably sad it made him. (Other than the rare occasions you cried at a movie or show. When that was the case, he couldn’t help but marvel at how pretty you are even with tears and snot all over your face.)

He immediately opened his mouth to protest, but his muscles froze at the returning sound of your devastatingly pained and pain-inducing voice.

“Thank you for saying all that. Thank you. I’m sorry I’m being so fucking weird about it. I just-” you said shakily and sniffily. Your tears were only picking up rapidly, so your free hand rose up to join the other’s side.

“I just hate myself so much,” you squeezed out through a hoarse combination of a whimper and a sob.

A sharp and achingly uncomfortable tingle jolted throughout every inch of Bakugou’s body. It lingered intensely even after its initial beginning peak. His hands clenched into tight fists with all the force he had in him.

Even though you cried a pretty average amount, it was always about typical life things. And it was always more or less graceful, just like you handle all things. He had never seen you like this.

Similarly, he had never felt so fucking heartbroken.

Or so helpless.

Or like such a goddamn idiot.

He had known you were insecure about certain things. He had seen it, over and over.

But he never thought, or perhaps just didn’t want to believe, that it ran so deep; that it affected you so much.

He should have known. He should have done more about it.

He constantly noticed when you were disappointed with yourself in school, catching the way you would often mutter under your breath how stupid or weak you are. Every time, for the next few days, he would offer his help to you and give it much more thoroughly than usual, hoping stronger preparation would help you feel more confident in yourself. He should have reassured you that you’re smart and strong and that you’re doing a great job.

He picked up on everything you’ve started to say that got interrupted by another participant of the conversation speaking over you, along with the way you always completely let it happen. He would always raise his voice at the culprit, scolding that you were talking first and usually throwing some kind of insult in there. He should have also told you that you deserve to be heard and that if there’s something you want to say, it’s important.

He noted the genuine anxiety in your demeanor whenever you asked him to double check if a text to any peers you weren’t close with was “good enough” to send. He replied the same way every time, saying that there’s no such thing as a good or bad text, that you’re fine and you’re overthinking it. He should have made you realize that speaking to you at all is a privilege that everyone you grant it to should feel lucky to have.

He always spotted the way you frequently stare much too hard at yourself when your eye catches a reflective surface or when you’re looking back at photos with you in them, analyzing the way you look far too much, and worse, never with a positive expression. He was quick to distract you with conversation when he was around to catch such a thing. What he should have done, what he always truly wanted to do, was tell you how beautiful you are— that he had never seen someone as gorgeous as you, and that he never cared about, or even noticed, that type of thing for anyone but you.

God, with just one choppy and strained sentence, you made him rethink it all— and regret how opposed he always was to embracing his emotions and sentimental desires.

Though, he never thought that these moments would lead to anything more, much less one that was so sorrowful or that struck him so greatly. Especially considering how strong and resilient he knows that you are (not that that's become any less true).

But here you were, a delicate mess as you sobbed into your hands and choked out that you hate yourself, and it was absolutely fucking killing him.

You hiccuped after your words, and right after that came yet another hurt sob, which you tried unsuccessfully to suppress. You were so beyond humiliated, in pure shock with yourself for letting this happen, for breaking down so pathetically and far too honestly. But you couldn’t help it. The knowledge of how much he cared for you was exhilarating in a way you had never quite felt (and you’re positive that the joy of hearing anyone else say something similar wouldn’t be nearly as impactful as it was hearing it from him), but the way it clashed so directly with your long-existing view of yourself was more than overwhelming.

Upon hearing the additional sound tear its way out of you, Bakugou finally lunged forward, immensely shrinking the gap between you two as he sat on his knees directly in front of you. You couldn’t hear the movement over the sound of your cries in your ears.

With a fearfulness he seldom felt, he slowly reached his hands out, noticing that they trembled slightly.

He softly wrapped his fingers around your wrists.

You jumped slightly in surprise at the touch, and your eyes opened reactively, but you didn’t pull away from it. You did bite your lip nervously, as you stared at your palms through blurred vision.

He gently tugged your hands downward, urging them away from their face-obstructing position.

When they once again became visible, your eyes re-locked with his. They were red and puffy, still overflowing with streaming tears. Said tears completely drenched your cheeks down to your chin, near where your upper teeth visibly clamped down on your bottom lip.

He could hardly stand the intensification of this already rare immense hurt that came with the added visuals of your state.

Partly to spare himself the sight, and partly for the sake of your comfort, he let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around you, tenderly but hastily pulling you against his chest and into a secure hug.

You inhaled through your nose sharply, not expecting the further physical contact. Then, you quickly and easily leaned into it, indeed feeling the comfort Bakugou hoped to provide. You lightly grasped his shirt as you tilted into his frame.

The way your body slightly shook beneath his hold sent more agony throughout his own. Your periodic sniffles continued.

“You’re killin’ me here. Seeing you like this hurts like hell,” he whispered into your hair, maybe the softest he’s ever spoken to a person.

Your heart and stomach fluttered again. You closed your eyes and pressed your head a bit more into him to further relish in his solid yet soft touch and his protective words and his cozy scent and just everything about him, really. Plus, the physical touch helped to convince you that you weren’t actually dreaming all of this.

“I meant what I said. You’re the best person I know. And you’re the last person who should ever fucking hate themself.” His voice, gravelly and breathy, gave out a bit on the word “hate.”

“You’re… You’re everything. Everything you do is perfect. Swear to God, (Y/N). Everything. And I don’t know where or who I would be without you. And I should’ve said all this shit sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Your already barely existent composure crumpled completely at so much additional warmth and kindness and unbridled care and all of its resulting relief. Your crying picked up once again as your grip on the fabric of his t-shirt increased.

His hold on you also tightened in response, both his hands squeezing to wrap around the fabric of your pajama top as well. His heart squeezed in unison.

You wanted to convey how much you indescribably appreciated him and how strongly you return the sentiment, but you struggled to collect any words.

All you could get out through your cries was something simple, but effective; something you only really say to each other on particularly special occasions:

“I love you, Katsuki.”

His heart felt like it stopped dead in its rhythm.

He had prepared himself (as much as he could, that is) for the continued difficulty of hearing your emotional wailing, but he had expected it to be exclusively that for a little while more. Figuring there was too much going on in your head as you processed that you just needed to cry out of your system first, he didn’t think you would say anything else so soon.

Especially not that.

And especially not in a voice he’d never heard you say it in— so soft and raw and truly heartfelt— and with his name attached to the end.

His breath stuttered as he inhaled semi-slowly, taking a moment to cement the sound of your words into his memory, before giving his reply.

“I love you,” he breathed out with husk and a tender passion.

You were, just as he was by yours, caught off guard by hearing such statement in his current aberrantly placid tone with caringly concerned tremors coming through.

You shuddered out another breath as your frenzied bawling picked up more. You loosened your hold on his shirt and sloppily shifted your arms to wrap around him. Once they got there, they did so tightly, almost aggressively.

His heart clenched once more at your further anchoring contact. With your hands out of the way, he then pulled you fully flush against his chest.

One of his hands moved upward from your back to your head, holding it gently as your face pressed into him and moving his calloused thumb up and down comfortingly.

His eyes pressed shut as he tried to focus more on your touch than the heartbreaking sounds of your weeping.

You both remained in those positions for a fairly long stretch. Eventually, you slowly began to settle down until no new tears were forming and the only noise coming from you were small sniffles and an occasional hiccup.

Bakugou reopened his eyes and his face relaxed only slightly. He wanted to say something, but the way you still clung to him so intensely, despite your tranquility making its return, made him apprehensive about doing so.

Until, suddenly, a brief but no less unpleasant wave of nausea washed over you. You released a short, uncomfortable groan.

Bakugou could easily tell it was different from a cry, devoid of your previous emotions. His brows creased in a confused manner.

“You okay?” he questioned straightforwardly, and his hand on your back moved up and down once as he did.

“I’m-“ you started, your voice scratchy and dry. You had to clear your throat before you finished. “I’m okay. Stomach just hurt for a sec.”

He exhaled through his nose as he thought about your answer.

“You wanna go to the bathroom just in case?” he asked, concerned that the issue could readily return at any instant.

“No, it’s fine,” you answered as your arms around him tightened for a moment before returning to their previous level of grip.

He breathed out in a laugh-like manner at your insistence to stay right where you were. While it did make him happy, he also knew that you had a lot to drink and throwing up wasn’t exactly unlikely.

Confirming that prospect, your discomfort quickly returned. You tried to just ignore it as a way of willing it to fuck off, but Bakugou noticed the way you shifted slightly and your breathing became intentionally slower.

“C’mon,” he softly urged as his hands lightly slid from where they were to each of your shoulders. “Better safe than sorry, dumbass.” If you were gonna barf in his dorm, he at least wanted you to be as comfortable as you could be while doing it, and not do it all over yourself (or him, either).

You sighed softly yet disappointedly, but you understood and appreciated where he was coming from, so you reluctantly and slowly released your arms from their embrace around him and pulled back.

You let him carefully help you onto your feet.

Once you were, you finally looked at him since having first started crying.

Your face remained red and puffy and damp, but at least it was less so as your crying became more distant with each second.

Bakugou wanted to place a hand on your cheek and thumb away some of the remaining moisture, but he didn’t when he saw one of your hands lift from its place at your side to rest on top of your stomach.

He swiftly moved from in front of you to beside you, placing a hand on your back again and guiding you in the direction of your nearby destination.

You reached the small dormitory bathroom right as the nausea got worse.

As he flipped the light switch on, you mumbled a quiet “fuck” before heading straight for the toilet, leaning in front of it on your knees. You just as quickly lifted the lid up, then brought your hands to each side of the bowl and appropriately positioned your head in preparation.

He was a bit startled by the abruptness, but he didn’t hesitate to be at your side in an instant.

He carefully collected all of your hair in his hands and out of the way, and with perfect timing: Right after he did, you vomited into his toilet with an unpleasant sound.

He winced at the sight and the co-occurring noise. He shifted your hair to only one hand so he could place the other on your back, where he rubbed it slowly. He hoped it might soothe you a bit, despite the always-awful event you were enduring.

His hopes were very much achieved, as you successfully focused far more on his presence and helping hands than the disgusting sting of your dinner coming back up.

When you finally got it all out, you moved to a proper sit rather than a crouch. Bakugou stayed as he was for a few moments.

Then, neither of you said anything as he closed the toilet’s lid and flushed it before standing up.

You watched from the floor as he grabbed the cloth hanging up from the bar on the wall and turned the sink on to put it under.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as your eyes remained locked on his form that towered over you.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said simply as he moved his bottle of mouthwash to the edge of the counter before turning the sink off and sitting down next to you.

Once his face was again across from yours, he saw the quaint smile you gained as a result of his response.

It made him smile too, but that didn’t stop him from questioning it. “The hell could you possibly be smiling about after puking your guts out, huh?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before lifting the wet towel to your face to wipe it clean for you.

Your eyes locked onto his intently, watching him with admiration— and just slightly swirling vision— as he performed the oddly intimate act.

After that, he tossed the rag to the corner of the bathroom, then reached a hand upward to grab the mouthwash that he had moved closer for convenience.

You continued to follow his movements with your pupils as he opened it and poured the liquid into the cap.

He handed it to you once it was full, and you eagerly took it, swishing it around in your mouth intensively to try to get rid of the remaining sour taste as much as possible.

He opened the toilet up again so you could spit the liquid out, and as you did he was already pouring you another capful just to be sure.

You repeated what you had just done as he closed the bottle and put it back. Once you were done, he again shut and flushed the toilet.

“Thank you, Katsuki,” you told him just above a whisper.

Another small smile graced his lips, and he nodded once intently as to say “you’re welcome.”

“You should get some rest. You can sleep here tonight.”

It’s something you had done before, but after the events of the night, the idea of sleeping in the same bed as him made you far more giddily nervous than usual.

You were too tired for that to fully show, though, just smiling and nodding lightly and sweetly in reply.

He helped you up from the uninvitingly cold floor and led you to his soft and snug bed. He shifted the pillows around and pulled the blanket halfway down for you once you both got there. You got under but only semi laid down.

“One sec,” he muttered after watching you immerse yourself in his sheets, before walking across the room. You heard some shuffling, and then a small moment later, he turned off the lights and returned on his side of the bed, sitting down on it atop the comforter. Your eyes adjusted to the dark enough in time to see him stick out a water bottle in your direction.

“Hydrate,” he demandingly instructed, very clearly only out of care, of course.

You did as he prompted, brushing his hand delicately as you took the bottle from his hold.

You downed what you deemed a proper amount before handing it back to him.

“You need some too,” you urged.

He took the bottle back, his fingers skimming lightly against yours just as yours had done, and complied.

“Yay,” you said happily but sleepily when you heard his sipping end.

“Now we’re both nice and healthy again,” you added as you shifted so that you were properly lying down and shifted onto your side, facing him.

Bakugou watched as you did, eyes having adjusted enough to see that yours had already closed, the exhaustion of the night clearly setting in quickly.

“Sure,” he said with a breathy laugh. “Now we can both sleep,” he returned, emphasizing the last word.

You hummed contentedly in reply.

“Goodnight, Katsuki. Thank you again. For everything. Seriously,” you said with pure sincerity from your closed-eye and cozied-up sleeping position.

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t gotta thank me,” he insisted as his eyes remained on you. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You warmly hummed yet again.

“I love you,” you added, setting the records for how many times you’ve said that to him in one day, one week, and one month.

With the intensity of the earlier moment now being replaced by a rather soft sort of domesticity, his heartbeat sped up a bit nervously and he took a second to get himself say it back.

“Love you.”

You revelled in the words as your final thoughts of the night before easily drifting off into a deep sleep.

Bakugou’s gaze stayed fixed right where it was, and it continued long after your departure into dreamland (where you dreamt of him, of course).

He slumped against his bed frame as he thought back on the entirety of the events that had just transpired.

He sighed, quietly so as not to stir you, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing.

He walked over to where you two had recently sat together on the floor and picked everything up off it. The last item to put away was the bottle of vodka, which he opted to take with him back to the bed. Once he returned, he went back into the exact position he had just been in, keeping his eyes fixated on your sleeping form as he took a swig.

He wasn’t sure when he was ever gonna be able to get over the fact that you’ve been dealing with such awful and horribly untrue thoughts for god knows how long.

He wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive himself for not knowing sooner.

But, he knew damn well that from now on, he was going to do everything that he could possibly do to get you to see yourself the way that he sees you.

Whatever it would take, however long it would take, he would make it happen. No matter what.

fhkdfjjd okay if u read allat i rly hope you enjoyed thank you sososo much ilysm

my ao3 is katsukutie!

[strawberry-nugget]

— Just Like Magic

Winter time and fans with no sense of privacy make Katsuki mad. Exhaustion makes him honest. Touch makes him pliable. And you’ve learned exactly how to take care of him when he’s like this.

Tags/CW: 18+ MDNI, pro hero! Bakugo x fem! Reader, estab! Relationship, domestic fluff, bathing together, happy ending massage, dirty talking, switch dynamics/ but mostly subby Bakugo, cowgirl position, face sitting, oral (fem! rec) handjobs, creampies, multiple orgasms, p in v, happy ending massage, cuddles, (8.8k words)

Katsuki doesn’t even slam the front door this time.

That’s the first thing you notice—just the low click of the latch and the heavy drag of boots being toed off like each one weighs a hundred pounds. No muttering, no explosive rant about idiots and extras that followed him on patrol, no sarcastic commentary. Just silence and the thick, tired exhale of your man who’s been running on fumes for hours.

His gruffy voice doesn’t greet you when he places his keys on his own little hanger, but the way you peek from the kitchen doorway at the symphony of him, anyway, is almost Pavlovian. Wiping your hands on a plaid towel near you, your eyes finally catch sight of him.

Katsuki’s standing in the entryway, head bowed, hair damp with sweat and explosion smoke, shoulders pulled tight like he’s still bracing for impact. His gauntlets are clipped to his belt, hanging loose, his black shirt clinging to every line of him.

He looks absolutely wrung out. Your poor baby.

“Rough day?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t look up, just huffs a laugh with no humor behind it. “Somethin’ like that.”

You pad over, slow, like approaching a spooked animal by the road at night. His eyes finally lift to you, and the soft, almost guilty way he looks at you tells you everything—he wants touch but won’t ask. He never asks.

Your fingers brush his forearm. Warm. Tense. Of course he doesn’t pull away.

“Come on,” you murmur, tugging gently on his left wrist. “Sit babe.”

He hesitates for half a second—pure stubborn instinct—then follows, sinking onto the couch with a grunt. His broad back curves forward, muscles still locked like steel cables.

You slide behind him on the cushions, knees bracketing his hips. He grunts when you wiggle your hips open against his waist; there must be a soft spot there, a bruise, a flimsy thing that makes him wince. You tuck the notion in the back of your head for later.

“Hi” you chant, opting to place a kiss on the frozen skin underneath his ear.

“Hi” he greets back. Tired, empty.

Your palms settle on his shoulders, kneading gently at the clothed skin of his traps first, letting the warmth of your hands melt into him.

Your Katsuki hates wintertime —he can’t help it. Nothing can keep him as warm as he wants, not even the fleece inseam of his costume. And you don’t blame him, it’s the same reason you hate summer, because you can’t cook down no matter what.

“I watched that video of you yelling at that fan.” You tell him, voice under the tone of a whisper.

Katsuki exhales, long, shaky, almost relieved at the way your hands work on his back, already drafting his response. “Tch, so damn close to my face, y’know i dont like it”

“I know baby, it’s alright now.”

You place a solemn kiss at his cheek, thumbs digging deeper, mini circles into his traps.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “That’s it.”

His head drops forward. His fingers curl against his knees. Every time your thumbs dig into a knot, he shivers. Quiet and involuntary, like he’s letting go piece by piece.

“Keep goin’,” he murmurs, softer than you’ve heard him all week.

And you do as you're asked.

You lean in closer, chest brushing his back as you work another stubborn knot loose. His breath stutters. That’s how you know he’s finally, finally settling.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, just to make him turn his head a little—just enough.

He glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded and soft in that rare, unguarded way he only gives you when he’s too tired to keep the walls up. His lips are parted, pouty in that natural way he’d deny until the grave, but you can see through the tiny facade covering his eyes.

You catch his chin with two fingers, coaxing him to face you fully. “Lean for a sec.”

He obeys before he can think better of it.

You steal a kiss—slow, warm, a tiny press of your mouth to his pouty lower lip like smoothing a wrinkle out of silk. He sighs into it, the sound low and gravelly, his lips chasing yours by instinct.

“Mm,” he mutters against your mouth, eyes half-closed. “Needed that.”

Of course he did. He always does.

You kiss him again, softer this time, then guide him back to the space between your legs, palms returning to his shoulders.

“Good,” you murmur into his hairline, letting your thumbs dig in deeper. “Now let me take care of the rest of you.”

He grunts something like agreement and drops his head forward again—already melting, already yours.

You can feel the exact second it hits him—the twitch in his shoulder, the way his spine stiffens like a cat sensing something’s off. Outside clothes. Couch. Contact. His personal hell.

“Katsuki,” you mumble, half amused, half pitying.

“Don’t,” he grumbles, already pulling away from your hands like the fabric of his suit is starting to itch his skin off. “I know. I know. I’m— fuck—” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m gross. Shouldn’t’ave even sat down.”

There it is. The shamey little afterthought he always tries to hide.

You slide your arms around him from behind before he can stand fully, palms flat against his full chest. 

“You’re not gross,” you remind him, voice low against his nape as you peck whatever skin your lips can capture. “You’re tired. And cold.” You nudge your nose into the side of his neck, stealing a small inhale of smoke, sweat, and winter air. “C’mon. Let’s get you in the bath.”

He doesn’t protest—just grunts, a small, defeated sound, letting you tug him up by the wrist again. His movements are too slow, too heavy, like he’s running underwater in a dream. He follows you down the hall, shoulders still tense but his hand warm and obedient in yours.

In the bathroom, the light is soft. You turn the tap, steam immediately blooming into the air, curling around the tiles of the tub. Katsuki hovers in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to shiver.

“Sit,” you instruct gently, pointing to the closed toilet lid while the tub fills.

He obeys. Barely.

He watches you through half-lidded eyes as you test the water with your knuckles, adjust the temperature, pour in the bath salts he pretends he doesn’t like but always relaxes into anyway; vanilla, bubblegum, jasmine. Every now and then his gaze flicks to you—your hands, your face, how calm you look doing this for him.

You walk over and stand between his knees, fingers brushing the short, platinum spikes of his hair.

“Let’s get these clothes off, babe.”

A low, rough noise leaves him. Bone-deep relief, like he’s handing you the weight he’s been carrying all day. You peel his shirt up slowly, careful of the bruised spot on his ribs, which makes him wince and mutter a curse.

You kiss his forehead. “Later,” you promise. “We’ll talk about that later.”

He nods, leaning into the touch of your lips just enough to break your heart a little.

You help him undress the rest of the way and as always, he lets you, even lifts his arms when told, even steps out of his pants without fuss. Vulnerable in the way only exhaustion makes him.

It doesn’t matter if exhaustion is running him down tonight, you do, admittedly, love him a little more when he’s pouting and whining and being difficult either way.

When he finally sinks into the hot water, it hits him like utter, divine mercy. His head drops back against the tub edge, eyes fluttering closed, steam clinging to his lashes.

“Fuuucking shit,” he breathes out. “That’s good.”

You kneel beside him, brushing your fingers along his jaw, your thumb over the soft pout of his bottom lip.

“Told you, you’d feel better!” you murmur.

His eyes open just long enough for him to kiss your thumb, lazy and grateful, before drifting shut again.

“Stay?” he mutters.

You smile sheepishly “Of course”

You stay kneeling for a long moment—just watching him. His breathing evens out, his shoulders loosen, the harsh little lines around his eyes soften. He looks ethereal like this. Less like the world chewed him up or invaded his comfort zone and more like someone who deserves domestic softness.

Steam curls around both of you, hugging your wrists, warming your skin.

“Move it,” Katsuki snaps without opening his eyes. One big palm comes to playfully slap against your ass.

“Excuse me?” you tease.

“Get in,” he grunts. “Water’s gettin’ cold without you.”

You roll your eyes, but your growing smile gives you away instantly “You just want me as a space heater.”

“Yeah. And?” His lips curl into the laziest, most crooked smirk. “Get iiiin.”

You shed your clothes slowly, intimate in that quiet way you always forget makes him stare. He cracks one eye open as you lift your shirt, the other as your pants slide down your legs. He doesn’t comment, but the silence is heavy, hot even.

When you step into the tub, the water laps up your calves, your thighs, and he lifts his hands to guide you down—big palms bracketing your hips, warm even under water. You settle between his legs, your back sinking against his chest, his arms curling around you with a groan that sounds like relief and hunger mixed.

“Mmmmhm! Better,” he mutters against the side of your neck, breath damp on your skin.

You feel his lips, just barely brushing the slope of your shoulder. Not quite kissing—testing. Asking.

Are you in the mood? He definitely seems to be in it when he’s like this; it’s like tiredness flips the horny switch inside him.

You tilt your head back on his shoulder in answer. That’s all he needs.

He presses his mouth to your skin, slow and unhurried, the way people kiss something they thought they’d ever get to come home to again. His hands travel up your stomach, splaying gently over your ribs as though cataloguing every breath you take.

“You’re so warm,” he says, voice rasped from fatigue. “Feels good.”

“You’re thawing out,” you murmur back, threading your fingers through his damp hair, lightly enough to tickle. “Finally.”

He huffs a soft laugh, barely audible, and his lips find the spot beneath your ear—the same place you kissed him earlier. He lingers, letting his mouth rest there, letting himself settle.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, turning your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils a dark shade of red now, tender,  a little needy even.

You tilt up and kiss him slowly, the kind of kiss that feels like you’re both sinking deeper into hot water. His hands tighten at your waist and his breath stutters against your mouth.

He kisses you back, tired but still hungry for you, full of that quiet desperation he never voices after bad days but knows you can always see right through. His lips mold to yours like he’s been waiting all week —he kissed you twenty times over this morning before leaving for his agency— like it’s the first real thing he’s tasted all day.

When you pull back, just barely, he follows with another small kiss, then another, each one a few seconds longer than the last.

His forehead rests against the side of your jaw. “Don’t stop, I need my kisses” he says, voice gravel-soft.

Yeah, like he wasn't the one kissing you, you're the one who needn’t stop.

Nonetheless, his beauty saves him; You cradle his face in your hands, guiding his mouth back to yours for another mellow, lazy kiss, your thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

“I’m right here,” you promise against his lips. “I’m not stopping.”

He inhales; that’s the thing, the words, that finally let him breathe.

The water shifts around you both, warm and quiet. His hands, large and steady and so so bulky after a whole day of carrying his armory, roam over your stomach again, drifting lower in slow, appreciating sweeps with no urgency, just want. Just the simple, grounding need to feel you under his palms.

“Lemme take care of you too,” he murmurs, voice deepening, arms tightening around you from behind as he wiggles his fingers a tiny bit lower. Then, below that.

You lean back into him, letting your body fit perfectly to his, skin flushed from heat and touch.

“You are,” you whisper. “You always do.”

As Katsuki kisses your neck again—longer this time, a drag of lips that promises more, unhurried and certain, as his fingers start shimmying over your folds, tenderly flicking your clit a few times and you moan— the steam settles around you both like a blanket, you know he’s not going to like what you’re going to say next.

“So tonight I should take care of you Katsuki, baby,”

It takes all of your self control to wiggle away from him, when the standard promise of his careful hands is there. Eager to make you come apart in minutes, seconds. Mere moments with added tender movements. It’s mouth water at first thought, but it is, in fact, unfair to him.

You get out first, grabbing a towel from the heated rack and wrapping it around your body before reaching for another. Katsuki, who’s suppressing his whine, lifts his arms a little when you approach, eyes half-lidded, lips pulled into the smallest, most exhausted pout.

“C’mere,” you murmur.

“I am here,” he grumbles, but he leans into the towel anyway.

You knew he would throw a whole ass tantrum; the way he speaks shouldn’t be a surprise to you.

You dry his hair with gentle, slow squeezes, working the water out of the blond spikes. Steam rises off him in lazy waves. 

He hates the transition from hot water to cold air—always has—so when you drape the towel over his shoulders he gives a soft, miserable sound.

“You okay there, old man?” you tease.

“’M not an old man,” he snaps instantly, but it’s weak, tired, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in that stupidly adorable pout again. “Just cold.”

“Then let’s get you to the bedroom.”

You take his hand and lead him down the hall. His towel is barely secured around his hips and he keeps yanking it tighter with one hand like the air has personally wronged him.

When you push open the bedroom door, warm lamp-light spilling over the sheets and nod for him to lay down on the mattress, he still hesitates. He eyes the bed like it’s a crime scene.

“What now?” you ask, already amused.

“I’m drippin’,” he mutters, looking down at his damp towel like it’s a biohazard. “Don’t wanna get the sheets wet.”

“You’re wrapped in a whole towel, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, and what if it shifts?” he snaps back, defensive and cold and cranky. “Then what, huh?”

You arch a brow. “God forbid your bare ass touches your own bed.”

He shoots you a glare. “It’s cold.”

“You know what helps cold skin?” you say, stepping close, brushing your knuckles along his tricep. “Warm oil.”

“Yeah—great—on a bed that’s gonna get wet first,” he mutters, heat rushing to his face and ears.

“You’re impossible.” You huff a laugh. “Get on the bed.”

“No.”

“Katsuki—”

“If I lie down like this,” he gestures wildly at his towel, “I’m gonna freeze my balls off.”

“So take the towel off.”

His whole face scrunches. “I JUST SAID I’M COLD.”

You cross your arms. “Then what do you want, huh?”

He pouts. Actually pouts. A small, grumpy, miserable fold of his mouth.

“I want…” he grumbles, “I want you to turn the A/C on.”

You blink, then softly, you nod, grabbing the A/C remote to have him choose the temperature.

“26 is good Kats?”

“No,” he snaps, then quieter, “Yes.”

You laugh—soft and affectionate—and walk over, throwing the blanket back and sliding under it for a few seconds. Katsuki watches, arms crossed, tapping his foot like you’re taking too long.

“Okay,” you announce after warming your side. “Bed’s warm.”

But he still doesn’t move.

“What now?” you ask, exasperated.

He shuffles closer, fingers gripping the edge of his towel. “If I… take this off… you’re gonna have t’—you know—bring the blanket to me fast.”

You just stare at him.

“Katsuki,” you deadpan, “are you asking me to towel-to-blanket speed-run because you’re a chilly little baby?”

He juts his chin out, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a baby.”

“You kinda are right now.”

“Ohhh, Shut up and get the blanket ready.”

You’re laughing as you hold it open. “Fine. Okay. Drop it.”

He hesitates— Then grumbles something like, “Fuckin’… stupid winter…” and finally lets the towel fall.

The second it hits the floor, he makes the most pitiful sound and dives onto the bed, burrowing under the blankets like a feral animal escaping a snowstorm.

You cover him quickly, shaking with laughter.

“You done?” you ask.

“No,” he mutters into the pillow. “I’m cold and naked. Fix it.”

You roll your eyes fondly, heading to your dresser. “I’m warming up the oil, grumpy.”

“Good,” he growls, peeking out from under the blanket just enough to pout at you again. “And hurry.”

“I’m hurrying.”

“Hurry more.”

You grab the bottle and warm it between your hands, then shake your head at the sight of him—messy hair, red nose from the cold, blanket wrapped around him like a burrito, eyes tracking your every move like he doesn’t want to admit how badly he wants this.

“Alright,” you say, climbing onto the bed behind him. “On your stomach.”

He doesn’t move.

“Katsuki.”

“…’M warm like this.”

“Stomach. Now.”

He groans into the pillow, dramatic and suffering, then slowly rolls onto his stomach, the blanket slipping down his back just enough for you to straddle his hips and bare his shoulders.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, drizzling the warm oil onto your palms.

He shivers at the sound, at the heat, at your tone.

But what he says is, “Just shut up and rub me.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss the back of his scarred cheek.

“Gladly.”

Katsuki exhales the moment your hands touch him—just a long, broken sound that betrays how much the day has taken out of him. The warm oil glides under your palms, slick and golden, catching the low bedroom light as you spread it over the broad expanse of his back.

His muscles jump under your thumbs.

“Fuck…” he mutters, face buried in the pillow. “That’s—yeah. Right there.”

You smirk. “Didn’t even do anything yet.”

“You existing is doin’ it.” It’s muffled, defensive, like he hopes you didn’t hear it.

But you did.

You lean down, brushing a kiss to the nape of his neck, right where the damp hair meets warm skin. “You’re sweet when you’re exhausted.”

He grunts, mortified. “No I’m not.”

“Sweet or exhausted”

He grunts.

“Sure you are.”

“Shut up and keep… mmf—keep goin’.”

Your hands drag along the line of his shoulder blades, slow and purposeful, pressing into the tight knots that have been killing him for days. He lets out a sound—half growl, half whimper—and his hips shift just a little under you.

“You’re tense,” you mumble.

“Gee. Really,” he deadpans into the mattress. “I never woulda guessed.”

You slap his shoulder lightly and he gasps in response like you shot him.

“I’m injured,” he complains.

“You’re dramatic.”

“M’ cold also.”

“You’re under three layers of blankets, Katsuki.”

“Still cold,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to pout at you from over his shoulder. His hair sticks up in wet spikes; his cheeks are flushed, his expression is pure misery. “Fix it.”

You slide your palms down his sides, warming the skin, tracing the curve of his ribs. He shivers—violently.

“Katsuki,” you laugh softly, “you’re vibrating.”

“M’ freezin,” he says, clutching the blanket around himself like a Victorian ghost. “You gotta get closer.”

“Closer?”

“Like—” he gestures blindly behind him “—body heat. Science. Just get on me or somethin’.”

You bite back a smile. “You want me to lie on top of you?”

He slams his face back into the pillow with a groan. “Yes, gosh. Why’re you makin’ me say it out loud?”

You straddle him more fully, leaning down so your chest meets his back, letting the warmth of your body sink into him. He sighs—long, relieved, almost hurt with how good it feels.

“…There,” he says quietly, voice softening. “That’s better.”

Your lips brush the shell of his ear, slow and warm. “Really now?”

He shivers again—but this one’s different. Lower. Thicker.

You keep massaging him from above, letting your body melt over his, your palms working oil into every tense inch of him. Your thumbs drag down his spine, slow enough that he arches subtly into the touch.

“Feels good?” you whisper against his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah… keep doin’ that. Don’t stop.”

You shift, kissing the back of his shoulder, letting your mouth linger there. He exhales shakily, a little whine caught in the sound.

“You okay?” you murmur.

He nods against the pillow, but his voice is rough, thin at the edges. “Just… feels good havin’ you touch me,” he mutters. “All over.”

You keep your tone soft, coaxing. “Because you’re cold?”

“Because I’m—” He cuts himself off, jaw tensing. “Just keep touchin’ me.”

And so you do.

You slide your hands down until they cradle his hips, your palms warm, gentle, grounding. His breath stutters. His shoulders loosen. He melts under you like the winter didn’t even stand a chance when opposed to your hands

“Katsuki,” you hum, kissing the dip of his spine. “You’re warming up.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “I fuckin’ noticed.” His voice is sleep-heavy, dripping with affection he’d deny tonight until the end of time. “You always… you know… get me warm.”

Your chest tightens in the sweetest way.

You lower yourself again, letting your whole body cover him, skin to skin, heat to heat. He groans softly, turning his head just enough to brush his chapped lips against your cheek, when you slot against him completely.

“Turn around babe, gimme a kiss,” he whispers.

You tilt his face up, and he kisses you—lazy, warm, needy-as-hell—mouth soft, lips still chilled from the outside air, tasting like steam and exhaustion and vulnerability he only gives you.

When you pull back, he’s staring, flushed and dazed.

You know what this is, reminiscents of before, his plea for you to take initiative without having to ask for it.

“Still cold,” he lies, blatantly so.

You laugh. “What do you want now?”

He grumbles, cheeks pink. “You know.”

You kiss him again—slow and promising.“Say it.”

He groans. “Babe.”

“Say it Katsuki.”

He buries his face in your neck, pouty and defeated.

“Stay on me,” he mutters. Quiet. So honest and raw “Stay and touch me.”

You smile against his hair. “Can’t say no to you…”

You stay draped over him for another moment, feeling his breathing slow under your chest. Katsuki Bakugo—the same man who detonates city blocks for a living—is quietly nuzzling into your collarbone like he’s trying to burrow into you for warmth.

You shift a little, just enough to get more oil on your hands. He instantly tenses.

“Wh—what’re you doin’?” he barks, voice muffled by pillow and pride.

“Relax,” you laugh, sliding your palms up his sides. “Just grabbing more oil.”

“Well, warn me next time,” he grumbles, ears turning a deep, telltale red. “Didn’t expect you to… move.”

You drag your thumbs down his spine again, slow as maple syrup, then gently wiggle them between his torso and the mattress, over the muscular lines of his ‘V’ He makes a sound. A very small sound. A sound he absolutely did not mean to let slip.

You grin. “You okay there?”

“Fine,” he snaps too quickly.

“You sure? Because you kinda—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—whimpered.”

He slams a fist into the mattress. “It wasn’t a fuckin’ whimper!”

“It was exactly a whimper.”

“Shut up.”

You lean down, kissing the side of his neck, fully worrying skin between your lips and teeth. His reaction is immediate, another whimper, another triumphant victory for you.

“Katsuki. Baby. You’re allowed to make noise.”

“I wasn’t makin’—ngh—noise.” His voice cracks mid-denial as your thumbs hit another knot in his lower back.

You bite back a laugh. “Do you want me to stop?”

He goes rigid. Absolutely stone still. Then, in a voice so tiny it might be illegal:

“…no.”

You soften instantly, smiling against his warm skin. “Thought so.”

You move down to his hips, working slow circles into the muscle there. His breathing picks up, shaky and uneven, his toes curling under the blanket like he’s trying not to explode over something as simple as you touching him. It’s adorable. Miserably sweet.

“Y’know,” he mutters into the pillow, “you’re makin’ this worse.”

“Worse?” you echo, amused.

“Yeah.” He wiggles—wiggles—like a stubborn cat trying to hide a shiver. “You’re makin’ me all… fuckin’…”

“Relaxed?”

“No!”

“Warm?”

“No—”

“Melty?” You chirp, wrapping your hands around his biceps and squeeze.

“Stop talking babe.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

His hand shoots out behind him, gripping your thigh like you just threatened his life.

“No,” he growls. “You stop, I’ll die.”

Your heart squeezes. “Okay,” you whisper softly. “I won’t stop, I want a very alive boyfriend.” You slap his ass playfully “Turn around for me.”

You feel the change in him before you see it, the way his grip on your thigh tightens, the way his breath evens out like he’s bracing himself. Then Katsuki exhales through his nose, slow and controlled.

“…You’re playin’ unfair,” he mutters, dragging each word.

You smile against his ear. “I’m playing at all.”

That earns you a low huff — half-laugh, half-warning. “Yeah. And I’m losin’.”

He rolls beneath you, careful but deliberate, bringing you with him until he’s on his back and you’re hovering over his chest. The blankets tangle around his legs, the warmth you worked into him still clinging to his skin. His hair’s a mess, his cheeks flushed, eyes sharp now — awake in that unmistakable way, if you look down, or even sit down, you’ll feel how hard he is.

His hands settle on your waist though. Steady. Certain.

“C’mere,” he says, low. Not asking.

You lean in, and the kiss he gives you is different now — not rushed, not desperate. Slow and sure, like he finally stopped fighting the want underneath it all. His thumb presses lightly at your side, anchoring you there and his hips make an experimental buck against the blankets.

When he pulls back, it’s just enough to look at you.

“You keep touchin’ me like that,” he murmurs, mouth curving, “and then act surprised when I don’t wanna behave.”

You laugh playfully. “Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Absolutely,” he chuckles without hesitation. “You started it.”

His hands shift, drawing you a little closer, forehead tipping to rest against yours, but you still refuse to sit down on him.

“Don’t stop,” he adds, quieter now. “Feels… good. Havin’ you this close.”

There’s heat in it, but also something gentler, something honest.

You brush your thumb over his cheek. “I’m right here.”

His jaw tightens like he’s holding back a grin. “Good,” he murmurs. “’Cause I’m not done with you keepin’ me warm.”

You dip down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw.

“Ohhhh….Bossy when you’re cozy,” you tease.

“Damn right,” he says, smirking up at you. “Not used to it by now?”

But his hands stay on your waist. Steady. Intent.

“Oh definitely,” you counter, pulling back just enough to watch his cheeks flush even deeper. “Like when you pulled me into the tub with you.”

“That was tactical!” he snaps, then immediately ruins the effect by threading one hand into the hair at the back of your neck, pulling you back down for a searing, deep kiss.

This kiss is different from the others. The tiredness is still there, but now it’s mixed with a surge of renewed focus, the kind of demand that only you seem to unlock. His mouth moves over yours with confidence, and you can feel the shift in his entire body—the tension hasn't vanished, but it's been repurposed into raw, undeniable want.

When he finally allows you a breath, he stares up at you, his eyes molten red and focused.

“You said you were taking care of me tonight,” he reminds you, his voice gravelly and low, a challenge wrapped in a statement.

“I am,” you confirm, smiling softly.

He moves one hand, letting his fingers trail down your side, over your hip, then resting on the curve of your butt cheek, giving it a light, warm squeeze that only makes you moan.

“This is you taking care of me,” he clarifies, his tone pure certainty. “And this is me letting you.”

You laugh, a low, pleased sound. “So, you’re gonna sit back and enjoy the ride?”

He snorts. “Would be a dumbass if i didnt.”

You lean down and capture his mouth again, letting this kiss be the answer. It’s slow at first, then deepens, his lips parting under yours, letting you in. You feel the blanket shift as he brings his legs up, hooking his ankles lightly behind your thighs, effectively locking you in place above him.

He gifts you with a new needy whimper then, when your ass glides over his throbbing cock, juuust once.

His hands leave your waist and travel up your —his— fuzzy pajama top, and over your sides, spanning your ribcage, his thumbs finding the soft underside of your breasts. The gentle way he touches you now, even with the obvious heat building, is what undoes you every time. It’s a quiet declaration of ownership mixed with profound tenderness.

You pull back, catching your breath, your chest rising and falling against his.

“Okay, hot stuff,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “Let’s start slow.”

He glares, the heat in his eyes betraying his patience. “Slow is relative.”

You smirk. “Good thing I’m an expert in your relativity.”

You lower yourself down, settling your weight fully onto him, letting your hips slot perfectly into the cradle of his. The gasp he lets out is involuntary, sharp, and so pleased.

“Fuck! Yeah,” he breathes, tilting his head back into the pillow. “Right there. Don’t move.”

You shift just a fraction, enough for your clothes slit to glide onto his length, eliciting a low, ragged sound of warning from him, and you feel a triumphant little shiver run through you. You’ve got him. Completely. Exhaustion has stripped him of his defenses and left him raw, needy, and yours to command.

You settle in, letting the friction build as you hump against him, listening to the rough sounds he’s too tired to keep trapped in his throat.

You lean down, lips hovering a breath above his ear.

“You still cold, baby?” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, looking directly into yours, his smirk slow and lazy and full of pure, confident desire.

“Not a damn chance.”

The confession in his eyes—that absolute, blazing need—is all the fuel you require.

“Good,” you breathe, letting the word sink into his ear. You deepen the glide, lifting your hips slightly before letting yourself sink back down.

The sound he makes this time isn't a whimper or a groan; it’s a choked, hungry hiss, like a fuse has finally been lit. His hands, which had been gently cupping your ribs, suddenly flex, digging in just enough to anchor you, possessive and urgent.

“Stop teasing, babe,” he rasps, his voice a low, burning plea against the quiet of the room. His head shifts restlessly on the pillow.

You ignore the demand, choosing instead to lean your forehead down to rest against his. Your bodies are flushed, slick with oil and heat, separated only by the thin, unnecessary layer of your clothing.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” you tease, pushing down on him until you feel his tip leak against your panties, your voice soft and breathless against his skin.

“This is relaxing,” he argues, the claim ridiculous and entirely truthful, given the way his hips are starting to subtly, uncontrollably rise to meet your rhythm. “Gonna relax better if you just—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath as you shift your hips again, slower this time, grinding with deliberate, agonizing patience.

The slit of his tip catches the seam of your underwear and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. The cotton is wet by a patch, half you, half the precum oozing from him and each needy hump-hump-hump only gets you wetter.

By the time you’re whimpering too, slimy with your own need, he swears he can feel your puffy folds through the barrier of your panties. His palms, thick and calloused, come to grab on your ass cheeks with force, impatiently pushing you down on him as he pushes up right back against you.

That does it for you, your poor clit already throbbing, already aching from when you tried to escape his wandering fingers during your bath together.

“Oh fuck Katsuki,” you whine, your waist arching.

Katsuki’s eyes snap open, wide and desperate, a mixture of pure lust and tired surrender burning in the red depths of them.

“You like how hard you made me?” He asks, through a whisper and you nod with a gulp in response. “Yah really like having me naked under you? While you’re dressed?”

You nod again and he pushes your hips down on him one more time. “F-f-fuuuck, s’hard for me Katsuki.”

“You love making a mess outta me babe,” he says, voice so low it almost cracks “Can I be in control tonight?”

“But you’re—you’re tired”

“Im not gonna move, I just want you to put your pussy on my mouth, so I can get a taste. Now,” he demands, the word stripped of all aggression, reduced only to a singular, consuming need.

His dirty talking isn’t surprising, really, if anything, your core shakes when he gets so desperate and messy that he wants to be the one in lead. It trembles, even, when his thumb urgently comes to flick at your clit, absentmindedly through your panties.

You bite your lip at the feeling, but it doesn’t stop you from teasing him right back.

“Thought you didn’t like anything up in your face?”

“That doesn’t apply to you. I want you as all up in my face as possible!” He smirks crookedly, and bites his lower lip before looking at you from head to toe. “I’m gonna die again if you don’t get undressed”

You freeze, hips hovering inches above him, the sudden, demanding turn of his words snapping through the haze of your own escalating need. The way his red eyes devour your face, the lazy, confident smirk playing on his lips—it’s pure Katsuki, taking control when he knows you least expect it, pressing down hard enough on your clit to make your hips shake.

And then, his face contorts into a pout again.

“You’re ridiculous and sleazy,” you breathe out, but the protest has no heat, only a desperate, breathless tremor.

His gaze drops, fixating on your exposed, heaving chest, then lower, where the damp patch of your panties meets his skin.

“Am I?” he challenges, his voice dripping with seductive confidence. His fingers, still anchored deep on your ass cheeks, shift, pressing hard enough to bruise, tilting your pelvis just so. “Feel that, babe? All your fault. Now come here and fix it.”

He doesn't ask, doesn't plead anymore—he commands. And the very sheer authority in his voice, even whispered with exhaustion, is a fire that ignites your submission—but only for tonight— instantly.

You slide off his pulsing erection with a loud, slick sound that makes both of you groan. You scramble off him, knees sinking into the soft mattress, the movement clumsy and quick. The warm oil, and your own slickness makes the skin of your thighs glow in the low lamp-light.

Katsuki licks his lips at the sight, makes an audible gulp too.

You look down at him, spread out on the sheets, muscles defined by the soft light, his face flushed and his breath still ragged. He's magnificent, even in this state of vulnerable, post-bath surrender.

“Come on,” he urges, raising one hand, palm open, commanding your attention. “Put your knees on my shoulders. I wanna see you.”

You obey. You peel off your shirt with hurried movements, tossing it blindly onto the floor, and shuffle up until your knees rest on the pillow beside his head. You straddle his face—the curve of your mound heavy, pulsing, directly over his hungry, open mouth and the only barrier between you, your ridiculously wet panties.

You buck once against Katsuki’s mouth, to test the waters. And somewhere between being completely drunk on how soft his lips feel and the angry groan he lets out, you’re surprised to realise that, no, he does not think highly of your panties right now.

He wants them gone.

Is this an excuse for him to literally use his quirk on the seams of your hips to burn them away? No, not really, but it’s still just a plain pair, a replaceable one.

Does it make it any better that he smirks at you and says “Oops—” before yanking them from behind your ass and tossing them somewhere in the room? Well, yeah, that actually makes a tear drop down your pussy and right into his open mouth, the second he takes the first lick with the flat of his tongue.

Can you say no to him when he’s worked so hard today? No, no you can’t.

You brace your hands on the mattress beside his hips, heart pounding against your ribs like a caged bird. The air between you is thick, electric, waiting for the next touch.

Katsuki doesn't wait long, though.

He lets out a small, satisfied sound—a low, victorious grunt—before his tongue, warm and utterly confident, slides out and brushes the sticky, throbbing center of you. You gasp, your waist immediately arching, head falling back in pure, shocked pleasure. His tongue is hot, rough, and precise, all at once, right against your puffy clit. Right where you need it, working vigorously and sloppy.

“F-fuck, Katsuki,” you whine, fingers clenching the sheets.

“S’purfect” he murmurs, the sound vibrating deliciously against your sensitive folds. 

He hooks his hands low, right at the base of your hips, fingers digging in as if to stabilize his full course meal. He surges you down, locking your hips in space as his tongue alternates between fast kitten licks, and slow figure eights against your clit.

You’re whimpering now, a high, desperate sound that he wants to devour along with your cries. 

“Don’t—oh, god—don’t stop,” you beg, your climax already gathering, tightening in your belly.

“I won’t,” he promises, the words barely audible, punctuated by a deep, wet sound of his lips locking around your clit.

He shifts his focus, just a tad after you yelp, pressing a series of kisses against your dripping pussy precise pressure in each one, that sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. You cry out, loud and messy, your entire body trembling over his face, your hands blindly gripping his shoulders for purchase.

He doesn’t let go of his grip on your hips.

Instead, he anchors your hips tighter with his hands and begins to suck and tease further; you shift your weight, settling deep over his face. You can feel the frantic need rising in him, even through his focus on you. This isn't just about your pleasure; you were supposed to take care of him tonight.

Your eyes drift down from behind your back, catching the hard, veiny length of him jutting up between his thighs, hot and so impossibly thick. You reach out, your hand still slick with oil, and wrap your fingers around his shaft.

He groans into your pussy, a deep, muffled sound of surprise. The sudden focus on his cock sends a shockwave through his body.

“F-fuck,” he mumbles

You begin to stroke him, slowly, your rhythm perfectly counterpoint to the relentless pace of his tongue slurping up on your clit. You take your thumb, pressing it between his lips and your folds to gather some slick —your juices and his spit all mixed up— and then, you rush it, to his cock again. Your wet thumb finds the sensitive head of his cock, swirling over the tip, and he shudders violently.

He breaks his suction for a second, a sharp inhale, his voice tight against your skin. “Gosh. Don’t do that, babe.”

“Do what?” you whisper, leaning down, eyes locked on the spot where his mouth is ravaging you. You increase the speed of your hand, mimicking the urgency in his breath.

“Touchin’ me while you—” he chokes, unable to finish the sentence as his tongue hits a perfect spot, sending a jolt straight to your core.

Fuck, he should have known better than to talk with his mouth full.

You feel him surging beneath you, the perfect combination of exhausted tenderness and relentless need. “You’re getting harder,” you note, your voice low and breathless, emphasizing the pressure with your hand pistoning around his cock. “You like me touching you, don’t you, Katsuki?”

Pump, pump, pump, you’re jerking him up and down crazy good for how little you can think— fingers tight around him, wrist lazy so it doesn’t hurt, pace just perfect. Fuck, he’s going to come just by how viscerally good your pace is.

“Fuck yeah I do” he remembers to respond.

Wasn’t he supposed to be leading today?

Katsuki goes rigid beneath you, unable to speak, only able to communicate with the sounds tearing from his throat as he works his tongue and teeth, wanting you to lose first. Come first so he can enjoy being in control for once.

His hands leave your hips, reaching up to cup your breasts, fondling you, holding you close, messy, intimate, and claimed.

For you, the world narrows to the heat of his mouth, the pounding in your ears, the relentless pleasure. The way his thumbs graze over your nipples.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, from left to right, bottom to the top and fuck—that’s it.

You collapse onto his face, shuddering violently as the impending doom of your climax rips through you, the heat and friction of him perfectly, brutally tuned to your need. You're gasping, slick, utterly ruined, bucking like crazy against his lips.

Katsuki doesn't stop, even through your throbbing release, only mellows down his work, sucking softer, licking barely there, until the last tremors fade. He lets you ride his face through your orgasm, lets you pump his cock at a lazy, slow pace, even anchor yourself through your last tremors before you come down.

You slide off him, collapsing onto your back on the warm sheets, breathing hard, your muscles shaking with the aftermath.

Katsuki lifts his head, his lower lip and chin shining with a stream of your release, eyes heavy and hooded with a potent mix of success and lust. He leans over you, damp hair falling into his eyes, and his mouth finds yours.

The kiss is soft, wet, and tastes overwhelmingly of you. It’s a messy, intimate transaction, a silent claim of lovers’ lips.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, already half-asleep again, exhaustion flooding him now that he's sated his immediate need. He flops onto his back, manhandling you over his chest, and this time, your pussy is the perfect kind of sloppy as he grinds your hips against his.

“Was promised I’d sit back and relax, but somehow I'm doing all the work!?” Katsuki whines, pouting for the thousandth time tonight.

“You’re an asshole,” you whisper, burying your face in his neck, kissing the skin there.

“Yeah,” he grunts, his arm heavy around your waist, pulling you tighter. 

“‘M gonna ride it out of you”

Your heart shaped eyes land over your boyfriend’s gorgeous face. Your pointer finger slowly traces the line of his nose to his bottom lip, tugging it ever so slightly, before letting it flap back, and drawing an imaginary heart at his sharp cheek.

You simply ignore his pout, a triumphant, breathless smile curving your lips. Katsuki’s words are already dissolving into the deep, heavy sighs of satisfied fatigue, but his body still responds. He’s always so silly, when he wants to top you, always managing to find a way to still be topped, eventually. 

His hands, though less insistent now, remain hooked firmly on your ass cheeks, holding you in place atop his hips. One of your hands, slowly yanks his cock against you and fuck, it’s angrily throbbing in deep, flush red— you’d never leave him like that. Ever.

“I promised to take care of you tonight, didn't I?” you whisper, the question laced with a playful challenge.

You shift your weight, easing up just slightly, letting the tip of him catch some of your sticky juices, then begin to sink down on him—slowly. So agonizingly slow that the friction builds and stretches into a profound, needy ache.

You feel the perfect stretch of him filling you entirely, pushing past the initial pleasure and settling into something deep, desperate, each vein, each throb of him, echoes everywhere into your sugary walls.

He gasps, a sharp, choked sound that pulls him halfway back from the brink of physical tiredness. His eyes snap open, the fiery red immediately focusing on your face, now wide and startled, his lips pucker a little, accentuating how his top lip is fuller, rounder than the bottom one.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes out, the word a warning and a plea all at once.

You begin to ride, slow, agonizing circles and bounces on his cock You grind your hips languidly, letting your squelching walls clench around him, milking every inch of him. 

Every friction point counts, every time his tip kisses your cervix coaxes another louder, even more lewd sound from both of you.

Your pace is measured, almost desperate in its need for more depth, more pressure, more of the delicious stretch of Katsuki. It’s a slow-motion unraveling, pulling the last strings of resistance from his body.

“See?” you whisper, leaning down until your mouth is right against his ear, your hips still rotating in that slow, grinding loop. “Told you I’d ride it out of you. Just lay back and take it, baby.”

He shakes his head, an immediate, guttural protest. He tries to push up, to take control of the pace, but you push him down, a hand between his big, strong pecs, preventing him. All he can do is tighten his hands on your ass, his fingers digging into your slick skin as he tries to anchor both you and himself, desperate for stability against your hypnotic movements.

You feel so impossibly tight, so scorching hot, every shlick shhhlick, shliiick sound of your hips colliding with his, every time his cock catches the spongy spots inside you that count, he wants to rut himself inside you at a pistoning pace.

“Too slow,” he rasps, teeth clenched, the muscle in his jaw jumping, even his eyes are glossy. “Go faster—please—”

The please is ragged, barely audible, a testament to how utterly ruined he is. 

How do you manage to do this to him every. Single. Time?

You ignore him, riding deeper, slower. Circular. You tilt your hips, finding that specific, perfect spot that sends a desperate whine tearing from your own throat, the one that makes your tummy feel like you’ve swallowed every star in the sky.

“No,” you answer, your voice low and trembling. “We’re taking our time. I wanna feel every single inch. Every single second.”

You lean down, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to his neck, letting your teeth graze his sensitive skin. He groans, a sound of profound suffering and his hips twitch under you, responding to your rhythm despite his commands.

Your own release begins to coil, building slowly this time, through a euphoric numbness, pulling your body taut with thick, relentless tension. You look down at him, seeing the sheer lustful pride in his red eyes as he realizes you’re going to climax again while he’s still half-spent.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, your voice a ragged plea, signaling your impending collapse. “Rub my clit baby, you ain't too tired for that, right?”

Katsuki shakes his head in response, right before you pluck his thumb in your mouth and tuck it between his navel and your already abused clit. 

“Don’t move anything else,” you warn.

Katsuki lets out a hoarse sound, a mixture of surrender and furious, helpless passion. He knows he can’t speed you up, can’t stop you, but at least, at least you want him to work you to your climax.

That’s why, he doesn’t waste a second to do what he does best—He starts working his thumb, a fast, tight circle that immediately throws your careful rhythm into chaos. The dual sensation of his cock inside you and the sharp, targeted assault on your clit—is overwhelming.

You gasp, a high, broken sound, your hips seizing up for a second before they plunge back down with panicked urgency, trying to ride the wave he’s creating.

“F-fuck, Katsuki!” you cry out, throwing your head back onto the openness of the room, your hands instinctively grabbing his thighs, trying to hold on as the world spirals.

“You asked for it,” he manages, the words a strained, triumphant whisper beneath you. His breath is hitching again, his own senses pulled back to the edge by your reaction. He’s pushing you over with each swirl of his thumb on your clit, and the feeling is clearly driving him wild too.

You feel the mind numbing pressure in your gut build again, and desperate to get Katsuki to feel the same, your hand extends behind you, cupping his balls into your palm.

His moan is, the least to say, heavenly.

But when he wishes to sleazily rut his hips into you— your grip tightens involuntarily, giving a desperate squeeze as you try to cope with your own pleasure.

He groans long from the depths of his chest—a sound of pain mixed with raw arousal—the fleeting sensation from your hand matching the agony of the pleasure he’s forcing onto you.

“Easy, babe,” he warns, his voice tight, but the rubbing on your clit doesn’t stop—it only gets faster, harder, more insistent. He is fucking you to the edge and coaxing your screams the whole way there.

Your control is gone by now. You are sobbing, whispering pleas against his skin, —when did you manage to lay your head on his chest and let him start pistoning inside you is beyond you— lost in the noise and the friction.

“I’m—oh, God—I’m coming, Katsuki! I’m coming!”

Katsuki lets out a broken whimper, and his thumb presses down hard, relentlessly, as your orgasm rips through you. You clutch his balls tighter, your hips seizing up, your entire body trembling as the waves crash.

You sink into him, shuddering violently, your breath torn short from your lungs.

And fuck— he’s almost there. He’s only a few, slow thrusts behind.

Thrust, thrust, thrust thrust, Slowly in, out, catching all your slimy wetness into his tip before bullying your poor pussy with it again, sinking it punishingly deep inside you, while you’re pulling him for a lazed out afterglow kiss already.

Thrust,thrust—fuck, the smootching of your lips slotting against his—thruuuust. Your pussy clenches down on him like a vice. And thaaat’s it. His cum starts spilling out of him in thick white ropes, coating every single tight space inside your abused pussy.

His breath tears through his lungs like he’s just finished a ten-mile sprint.

He collapses further into the pillows, a dead weight of satiation, your heart pounding a furious rhythm against his. You press your mouth to his neck, kissing the skin there—wet, salty, and tasting of victory.

He lifts his free arm, heavy and protective, hooking it around your back and squeezing you tight, pressing you deeper onto his core.

“Feeling better Katsuki baby?”

“Fucking finally,” he manages, the words a strained, low gasp right beside your ear. His voice is raw, stripped of all pretense, laced in orgasmic relief and mayyybe some underlying exhaustion.

You lie still for a long moment, letting the feeling sink in; the warmth of his spent body radiating all around you, the comfortable weight of him still deep inside and your pulsing pussy clenching around him as his cum drips out of you.

Ah yes, heaven on a Thursday night.

Katsuki grunts, grabbing the blanket in order to cocoon both of you in it and you simply snuggle into him, your heart finally slowing. He smells of vanilla and sex and safety.

“Katsuki?” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You falling asleep?”

“Fuck no,” he lies instantly, slurring around the edges. “M’awake.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah… jus’ resting my eyes…” He nuzzles into your arm. “And my face.” He inhales softly. “You smell good.”

“I love you Katsuki, sweet dreams.”

“I love you too, hope you dream of me.”

Katsuki massages you (nsfw)

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work // the second image in the banner is my own edit, do not steal!

A/N: 1) this is the last fic I post as bnha airs. I’ve been crying non stop like I’m in the middle of a messy breakup because of it rn…. Anyways, yes this was based on the three seconds of footage where Katsuki was screaming at that fan. 2) Yes I know everyone in my fics has been exhausted lately, it’s because I know working overtime in the winter sucks the soul out of you.

Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3

Dividers by @/cursed-carmine