they are NOT written "prettily" or with genuine intent to write a developed story/fic. please do not expect more. please do not follow me in hopes of more.
you are welcome to send me your thoughts (nsfw AND sfw), but understand that i may or may not write them (depends on if they pique my interest)!
NOTE: i usually try to write gender neutral!reader! but if there's a ramble where that's not true, i have not indicated it, and it upsets you, LMK. i'll update it to say "fem!reader" :)
⭐️ important! ⭐️
MDNI‼️
I will block you if you do not have your age in bio and/or are a blank blog.
🦋 BARRY ALLEN (Grant Gustin's/CW's Flash)
-> a much needed hug
-> pretty whines (18+)
-> worship him (18+)
-> exhausted (18+)
-> cockwarming (18+)
🦋 RAFAYEL (LADS)
-> sleep well
-> sweet name (18+)
-> slow dancing (18+)
-> the tides
🦋 SYLUS (LADS)
-> perfect match (18+)
-> 🏍️🏍️🏍️
🦋 GOJO SATORU
-> smelling you (18+)
-> the one with the list
-> insecurities
🦋 GETO SUGURU
-> birthday sex (18+)
-> jealousy, jealousy
-> uhhh it's smut, i don't have a good title for this one (18+)
complimented a pretty girl on her tats and then she got all happy and COMPLIMENTED ME BACK 🥹🥹 SHE CALLED ME PRETTY. A PRETTY GIRL CALLED ME PRETTY.🥹🥹🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💐💐💐💐💐💐 made my year
katsuki with a shy girl who only lets him eat her out if he has a blanket over his head...
he tried to do it a couple times before, only to be met with your thighs clenched around his head and your face stuffed in a pillow — pulling him up by the collar of his shirt as you ignore the ache between your thighs and mutter that he "doesn't have to do that"
and katsuki knows what he can do, prides himself on knowing how to eat pussy, how to make his girl feel good — and he's determined to get to the bottom of this.
so, the next time he's kissing down the valley of your cleavage and feels his hair being tugged as he reaches for your waistband, he decides enough is enough.
"why won't you let me do this"
your hands loosen their grip in his hair, "katsuki—"
"please, you're killing me here" he mutters, bringing one of your hands towards his lips as he kisses your palm, "just wanna make you feel good"
it's clear he wasn't taking your excuses this time, especially when he can see your slick soaking the thin fabric of your panties when his mouth gets just a little too close.
so, you give him an ultimatum...
and katsuki's mouth is ruthless, as if he's been depraved from something so divine all his life — because he has. his head bobbing under the sheets as he listens to your stifled moans. he comes up for air between licks, forehead dewy and hair stuck to his face as he watches you with glossy eyes.
and katsuki never complains, cause if this is the only way to have you as loud as he wants you to be — he'll choose that damn blanket every time.
a/n: do we fuck with the blurbs horndogs? i like writing them when i feel like i have an idea that doesn't need a whole fic 🤔 also then i can provide for your freakiness a little faster ykyk -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ katsuki always wondered what the hell his father saw in his old hag of a mother. it takes twenty years, a nasty fight with you, a near-death experience, and a trip to the hospital before he finally gets it
── ✶ word count: 5.8k words ; my drabbles always do this bro
── ✶ before you read: female reader ; pro hero bakugou ; established relationship ; arguing ; (temporary) relationship troubles ; injuries + villain attacks + hospitals (bakugou) ; tame angst with a happy ending! ; communication + resolving arguments ; bakugou’s father makes an appearance ; fluff and banter at the end ; masterlist.
꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ at the end of the day i will never not be a sucker for the trope where u argue just before a major life threatening incident occurs
It’s 9:32 PM when Katsuki begrudgingly leaves his patrol area and finally calls it quits for the night.
Patrol was supposed to end an hour and thirty-two minutes ago, but he’s been dragging his feet ever since. Taking the long route. Responding to calls that technically aren’t under his jurisdiction. Circling blocks he’s already cleared twice. Anything to kill time. It’s only when Kirishima actively tells him to get the fuck out and stop interfering with his villain count for the night that Katsuki finally accepts defeat and ends his workday.
Ending his workday means going home. And if he goes home, you’ll be there. And if you’re there, he’ll be reminded of your nasty argument from the other night. And if he thinks about that argument, he’ll have to face the fact that the two of you are still stubbornly refusing to speak to one another until the other apologizes first. It’s a ridiculous standoff—an unnecessary one, and he knows it. But neither of you seems particularly interested in ending it, and now his own apartment has somehow become the last place he wants to be. Every room feels charged with an uncomfortable tension. The living room is awkward. The kitchen is unbearable. Even lying down beside you at night feels weird, so Katsuki would rather avoid the whole thing if he can help it.
If he gets home late enough, you’ll already be asleep. Then he can shower, crawl into bed, and pretend the situation doesn’t exist for a few more hours. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind, but unfortunately, thanks to fucking Shitty-Hair, he has no choice but to head home and hang up his costume.
And judging by the lights still glowing through the windows of his apartment, his luck has officially run out. You’re still awake. Of course.
He trudges in, and there you are—sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, staring directly at him with your arms crossed and an infuriated glare on your face as you fix him with narrowed eyes. Great.
“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” you hiss without missing a beat.
Katsuki should’ve known you’d start nagging the second he walked through the door. Hell, he should’ve turned around and just left the moment he saw the lights on instead of coming in.
“S’not even ten,” he grumbles, kicking his boots off. “Would you fuckin’ drop it—”
“You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago!” Your voice rings through the apartment, sharp and incredulous, and Katsuki is so tired. So exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this nonsense right now, of all times.
“Yeah, well. Now I’m home. There you go.”
The dismissal only seems to make you angrier. Katsuki practically watches the steam start pouring from your ears as you shoot to your feet, hands planting firmly on your hips. And he just knows your voice is about to get louder.
“That’s it?” you practically screech. He fucking knew it. “You’re out on patrol for an extra two hours, and I hear nothing from you—not even a text saying, I’ll be home late. I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, wondering what the fuck happened, or if you’re okay, and all you can say is now you’re home? Do you just get off on being an asshole or something, Katsuki?”
His shoulders tense immediately as he fixes you with an equally hard glare. There goes his wish for a peaceful, conflict-avoidant night. Of course, as always, you have to drag the conflict right to him and drop it at his feet, spike his temper, and make it ruin his evening. A simple shower and a good night’s sleep was all he wanted. But things are never quite that easy—not with you.
Katsuki feels a dull throb start behind his eyes as he shoots back, “What, was your phone broken or some shit? What exactly held you at gunpoint and stopped you from sendin’ me a text and asking, huh?”
Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not laughin’, am I? Definitely no jokes here.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, and he snorts. There’s no humor behind the sound, however.
“Yeah, that’s real mature.”
“Oh no—you don’t get to tell me about what’s mature and what isn’t. Cause if you wanna talk about what’s mature, it’s not disappearing for two hours and acting like I’m insane for being worried!”
“I wasn’t disappearing, I was fuckin’ doing my job.”
“You were supposed to be done with that job hours ago!”
“Well, I wasn’t!”
“You have a smart little answer for everything, don’t you, Katsuki?” you smile sarcastically, “just think you’re so smart and above it all, huh?”
Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the headache that’s been creeping on him, or the rage, or the pure adrenaline in his system, but he does know that for a short, fleeting second, all he saw was red.
“Holy fuck, do you ever listen to yourself?”
Your expression hardens instantly. “No, I think you should listen to yourself. You might hear an idiot if you do.”
The apartment goes quiet. Dangerously quiet.
“You know what?” he says coldly, “forget this. I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep—I’ve dealt with enough bullshit tonight—”
You throw your hands in the air, exasperated. There is a flash of hurt on your face that makes his chest ache, but the sharp stab of pain doesn’t last for long because as quickly as his heart bleeds, his mind makes him forget. It only lets him focus on the anger and the irritation and the way you’ve ruined his night, just like you ruined the one before.
“Every single time I tell you something bothers me, you act like it’s a personal attack, and then you just dismiss me like I don’t matter—”
“Maybe I wouldn’t dismiss shit if every conversation with you didn’t turn into a fuckin’ laundry list of grievances you got with me!”
“You only take everything I say as a complaint because you refuse to communicate!”
“Because not everything needs to be a damn discussion like we’re in therapy!”
“Right,” you laugh bitterly. “Silly me. God forbid I expect basic consideration from you.”
Something ugly flashes across his face. He knows it. Katsuki knows that when he’s mad, he turns ugly—he’s always been that way. It’s the only way he knows how to be. For the longest time, he thought you were the only person he could hide it from. That you were the only person he could fight the urge to get ugly from because you are just that special.
But Katsuki is who he is, and he’s learned that he’s a special kind of ugly just for you.
“Basic consideration?” he barks. “You’re sayin’ I’m not considerate?”
“No, sometimes you fucking aren’t and—”
“Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich! I break my back every day keeping this city safe—”
“Well, if the city is the only thing you can be considerate for, why the fuck are you even here?”
It’s silent as soon as the words leave your mouth. Katsuki goes completely still. He can feel it the second it happens—the way his expression shuts down. The way the anger drains out of his face and leaves behind something colder. Something worse. Something so ugly, he has to get out of here before you see it and realize he isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth you.
“Yeah,” His voice is flat. “Why am I here, right? You know, you can just tell me to leave next time, it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier for you.”
“Katsuki—”
“No.” He grabs the strap of his duffel bag that carries his guantlets from where he’d dropped it by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he bends down to lace his boots up again.
“Katsuki, that’s not what I meant.”
“Sure.”
“I was angry—”
“Clearly, you’re always fuckin’ angry at me. I’m always doin’ something the fuck wrong, aren’t I? Nothin’ I do is enough?”
Stop, stop, stop. His mind is screaming, begging him not to do this. To get out. To leave and fight that hideous part of him down until he’s far enough that you never, ever have to see it.
“Katsuki, don’t do this right now—”
“Do what?” His voice rises more than it should. Stop—stop now. But he can’t. The ugliest of him is already taking surface and showing his truest of colors. “What exactly am I supposed to say here, huh?” You flinch. He needs to fucking stop, but he doesn’t. “Because apparently, when I stay late to save people, I’m an asshole. When I’m home, I’m an asshole. I breathe, I’m an asshole. I exist, I’m an asshole.”
“That’s not—”
“So what’s the answer?” His laugh is bitter and so, so cold that he doesn’t recognize this version of himself. Not with you. He wants to stop desperately, but he can’t. Because Katsuki is an ugly, hideous, despicable person deep down. No amount of heroism on the surface can hide that part of him that’s on the inside, not from you. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, you tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”
“Katsuki, let’s just sit down and—”
He shakes his head. For a second, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt for you. Stop, stop, stop— “Y’know what? I’m done.”
His hand closes around the doorknob, and your voice comes out shaky and panicked as you whisper, “Katsuki, please just sit down and—”
“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit anymore.”
Then he yanks the door open and walks right back out, slamming it hard enough behind him to rattle the picture frames on the wall.
────────────────────────
Katsuki is six when he first asks his father what the fuck the old man even sees in the hag that is his mother. He remembers the conversation vividly.
“Dad, why did you marry Mom? She’s grumpy and old, and she yells all the time,” little Katsuki asks, crossing his tiny arms over his chest. “Why d’you even like her?”
Masaru nearly chokes on his tea. “Katsuki,” he coughs. “Your mother isn’t old. You shouldn’t say that—it’s rude.”
“But she is,” he huffs. “She smells like an old lady, too.”
“Well, if she’s old, then I’m even older,” Masaru points out, taking another sip. “So that can’t be a very good reason not to like her.”
“Well, she’s mean.”
“She’s not mean,” his father chuckles, thoroughly amused.
No matter how many times he sees it, Katsuki doesn’t understand it—the way his father gets that dumb, starry-eyed look whenever Mitsuki comes up. She’s always in a bad mood, and if she isn’t, she’s probably due for one within the next thirty minutes. Why his father would choose to marry such a sour lady is completely beyond his six-year-old comprehension.
“She yelled at me this morning,” he sulks.
“You tried to use your explosions inside the house,” Masaru reminds him, leveling him with a pointed look. “We talked about that. Rules are rules for a reason, young man.”
Katsuki pouts harder. His father is supposed to take his side.
“But she still yelled. And it was mean,” he argues back stubbornly. Masaru only smiles into his tea, shaking his head with fond amusement. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Katsuki presses again, “So what do you even like about her?”
The question seems to catch Masaru off guard. He pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s funny.”
Katsuki blinks. His father cannot possibly be serious. “Mom?”
“Yes.”
“She’s funny?”
“Very.”
“No, she isn’t,” Katsuki says immediately, deeply offended by the blatant lie.
Masaru laughs, “She is.” Katsuki stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind. Masaru only smiles wider. “She’s honest, too. You always know what she’s thinking.”
“That’s because she says whatever she thinks.”
“Exactly.”
“And she says it loud.”
“That’s true.”
“She says it really loud, Dad.”
Masaru nods solemnly, sighing. “Also very true, son.”
“She should shut up,” Katsuki huffs. His father fixes him with a stern look at that, and he shrinks back just a little.
“We do not say that about our mother, Katsuki.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes but slumps deeper into his chair all the same. “Fine.”
“Your mother is wonderful,” his father says. “She works hard. She cares about people. She loves our family—she loves us. One day, you’ll see that. And when you do, I think you’ll appreciate her a lot more.”
Katsuki picks at the food on his plate, turning the words over in his head.
His mother does love him—he knows that much, even if she is annoying. She remembers all the snacks he likes and somehow always comes home with them without him ever having to ask. Whenever he asks for money, she gives him more than he requested—even if it usually costs him an irritatingly painful pinch to the cheek. She wakes up early to bathe him despite complaining about losing sleep because he prefers morning baths to evening ones.
His mother loves him; he knows that to be true. But it’s only true because she is his mother, and he is her son. Mothers love their sons—it’s the rules. Why his father would willingly choose to love that woman remains completely incomprehensible, however, in his mind.
“Mom is super annoying,” he says bluntly.
Masaru’s smile softens. “I suppose sometimes she can be, yes.”
“See?” Katsuki perks up immediately, his entire face screaming, gotcha!
“But,” Masaru continues, “I’m sure I annoy her, too.”
Katsuki deflates on the spot.
More than that, he simply cannot imagine such a thing being possible. His father is calm and nice and makes good food. Katsuki thinks lots of women would like his father—women who also would not find Masaru annoying. The only person allowed to find Masaru annoying is Katsuki himself, and that’s because his father makes rules that Katsuki has to follow. He thinks he’s earned that right.
His mother, however, has no such excuse.
“She gets annoyed with you?” he asks incredulously.
“Of course. Every day, I’m sure there’s something I do that annoys her at least a little.”
“Then why does she like you?”
Masaru thinks for a moment, carefully choosing his words, trying to explain this odd phenomenon that is love. “Because loving someone isn’t about finding a person who never annoys you,” he says finally. “It’s about finding someone who still sees your value even when you’re annoying. Someone who chooses you anyway. Does that make sense?”
His nose wrinkles immediately. “No.” His father stifles a chuckle when Katsuki adds, “That sounds dumb.”
“Maybe,” Masaru hums, eyeing him with bright, endeared eyes.
“I’m not gonna marry someone annoying when I’m all big. Because I’m smart!”
That earns him a full laugh from his father. It’s the kind of laugh that makes Masaru lean forward and wipe at the corner of his eye. In fact, he laughs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “You say that now,” his father says, setting his mug down, “but that’ll change. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“No, I won’t,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t appreciate that he’s not being taken seriously.
“I think you will, son.”
“I definitely won’t.”
Masaru only smiles. He looks at Katsuki the way adults always do when they think he’s young and silly and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Katsuki hates that look. He’s smart—excellent, even. Just the other day, he caught his teacher’s mistake during subtraction when nobody else in his class noticed. At this rate, he’s well on his way to being smarter than most adults.
He absolutely knows what he’s talking about.
“Well, we’ll just have to see, Katsuki. If I’m right, you’ll take me out for ramen someday. Deal?”
“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, puffing out his chest confidently. “But you’ll never see that ramen.”
────────────────────────
Twenty years later, Katsuki sometimes wonders if he’s going to have to admit he was wrong and take the old man out for ramen after all.
You are, without question, the most annoying, irritating, vein-popping individual he has ever met. It’s like every decision you make is carefully calculated to inconvenience him specifically.
He has to keep an extra jacket in his car because you never check the weather before leaving the house. He has to double-check your grocery lists before you go shopping because if he doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget the one thing you actually need. He has to make sure you take your vitamins. Every night, he has to remind you to take your makeup off before bed because, apparently, that responsibility has become his problem—and if you wake up the next morning with mascara smeared under your eyes because you didn’t listen to him, then somehow you still find a way to blame him for not wiping it for you.
You are annoying. Every single fucking day, you annoy him. You annoyed him yesterday. You’ve annoyed him today. You’ll annoy him tomorrow. And he’ll tell you exactly that—he’ll call you a dumbass, and tell you to get your life together. Complain about the ridiculous thing you did this time, and accuse you of going out of your way to make his life harder on purpose. But after that, despite it all, he will still love you.
Twenty years later, now that he’s older, Katsuki realizes he understands what his father meant. That loving someone doesn’t happen because they never annoyed him—loving someone happens because they annoyed him, and he still, despite that, sees nothing but the good.
He loves you. You are annoying and drive him up a wall, but Katsuki knows that you are good. The greatest good that there might ever be, and he might have just ruined it. He probably fucked it all up and lost all the good he had. All the good he’s ever wanted. All the good that he’s wanted to keep for the rest of his life and cherish.
The second the apartment door slams shut behind him, Katsuki regrets it. He regrets being the reason behind that look on your face. That brief flash of panic in your eyes right before he left. That way that your voice sounded when you said his name.
He can’t get it out of his head as he walks out of your building. “Fuck,” He runs a hand through his hair and keeps walking.
The only friends he’d willingly see right now are working, his parents are definitely sleeping (and would ask too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, even if they weren’t), and he is nowhere near calm enough to go back upstairs and just go home.
But his patrol route is still active. So instead of going home and into bed like a normal person who has morning patrol, Katsuki leaves his apartment building behind and heads toward work.
By the time he gets suited up again, it’s almost eleven. By the time it’s midnight, he’s still out. By the time it’s 1 AM, he should call it a night.
Instead, however, he keeps moving. One more block turns into one more street. Anything to keep himself from going home or thinking about the argument. About the way you looked at him. About the things he said. About the shit he ruined for sure.
His thoughts are loud enough in his head, turning him deaf to everything else. He misses things he normally wouldn’t—things like suspicious shadows and warning shouts from another hero.
By the time Katsuki realizes what’s happening for what it is, the villain goes down easily enough—too easily. He curses himself for being so naive, so rash. He’s been fighting as a pro for years. He was a war veteran before he was even a legal adult, for crying out loud. Still, despite all that, the second Katsuki realizes something is wrong, it’s already too late.
The construction site groans around him—metal screeches against metal, and his head snaps upward. All he sees is the upper half of the structure collapsing before he loses his balance and collapses with it.
“Shit—”
The explosion leaves his palms a fraction of a second too late, and he doesn’t go propelling forward the way he’s supposed to. The half-built building comes down, and Katsuki goes down with it.
Then everything goes dark.
────────────────────────
It’s 2 AM when you see it on the news. Kirishima sends you a text asking if you’d heard what happened, and by the time you’ve spammed him with messages asking what the hell he was even talking about, he’s gone silent. Something in your gut knows that he’s not answering because he’s too busy rescuing. Too busy being a hero.
Your heart tells you that the person he has to be a hero to tonight just so happens to be Katsuki.
The first report you see hits the news at 2:13 AM. The anchor’s voice is as smooth and polished as ever as she delivers the words that send your whole world crumbling around you.
“We are receiving breaking reports of a major incident involving Pro Hero Dynamight.”
The footage that floods the screen makes you fall to your knees and muffle your sobs behind a shaky palm—collapsed concrete and emergency responders and heroes rushing in and out of the wreckage. The camera zooms toward the ruined construction site, and Katsuki’s body is nowhere to be seen on the screen. You don’t quite know if that’s a good thing or bad.
“Dynamight was reportedly responding to a villain incident when a structural collapse occurred. We are told he is trapped beneath the rubble. Emergency responders are currently on the scene, conducting rescue operations.”
At 2:37 AM, the hospital gives you a call as his emergency contact. You’re sick to your stomach, not sure how you’ll make the drive there when Kirishima finally texts you again.
Kiri <3: I already told his parents. They’re on their way so don’t worry about it
Kiri <3: One of my sidekicks is outside your apartment. They’ll drive you down there
Kiri <3: I still have to handle the aftermath and finish patrol so I won’t be there I’m sorry
Kiri <3: Keep me updated?
You: Don’t apologize Kiri idk what I’d do without u
You: Thank you and pls be safe
You: I’ll lyk things as soon as I find out
Kiri <3: Take it easy okay?
Kiri <3: He’s come back from worse. It’ll be alright
——
Kirishima’s sidekick gets you to the hospital efficiently, but you are still at your wits’ end by the time you can rush out of the passenger seat and bolt through the sliding doors.
Some part of you is grateful you didn’t have to drive here yourself because you know you would’ve sped dangerously over the limit, missed half the red lights, and probably would’ve gotten yourself pulled over. At the same time, you wish you could’ve been the one behind the wheel, just to get here faster.
“I’m here to see Kats—um, Dynamight,” you say in a rush. “Dynamight…I meant Dynamight.”
The woman at the front desk looks at you with a raised eyebrow, already typing away at her screen as she blandly says, “Valid ID, please.”
You curse under your breath, fumbling through your purse for your wallet, and then fumbling through your wallet for your ID like your hands suddenly don’t belong to your body anymore.
When you practically shove it toward her in your haste, she takes it too calmly for your racing heart and inspects it for a moment. Then looks at her screen. Then back to your ID. Then she types for what feels like an agonizing eternity before she finally hands the card back and says, “Fourth floor, room twelve. He’s stable, but he has some serious injuries that they’ll have to monitor and heal slowly due to his stamina—”
You’re already moving before she finishes. You’re bolting toward the elevators, heart slamming so hard it hurts. The ride up to the fourth floor is torturously slow. When you finally get out of the elevator, you’re halfway down the hallway before you even register the security guard stepping in front of you.
“ID.” Again. Of course. You suppose it is a good thing security is tight for the pro hero unit—even if it does add to your piling weight of anxiety. When you clumsily pull it yet again, he checks it for another cruelly long stretch of time, glancing between the card and the device in his hands before finally saying, “Go ahead.”
You’re already moving.
By the time you reach room twelve, your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself still. For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. Would Katsuki even want to see you? Is he fed up with you? Would you just make his already terrible night even worse?
You aren’t sure.
You don’t know why you’re in the predicament you’re in right now. You don’t know how you got here or why things escalated the way that they did. You don’t know what you do wrong to push his buttons the way you seem to, to upset him the way that he gets. You think you’re doing the right thing—that you’re doing what’s right for both of you—but somehow, you always seem to mess it up. Always seem to say the wrong thing. Always seem to ruin whatever good the two of you have managed to build between you.
But you love Katsuki, and if nothing else, you know that he loves you too, and you need to see him. So you force down the bile in your throat and push the door open. The first thing you notice when you see him is the bandages wrapped tightly around him. One arm heavily secured in a cast. Gauze lining his shoulder and collarbone that makes your stomach drop in a sick, immediate lurch. Machines hum quietly beside him, keeping track of his vitals.
You never see Katsuki hurt like this—he’s always been practically invincible when he’s on the field, always taking things down before they have a chance at even touching him. And then your brain, cruelly, supplies the thought: but he is not invincible. Not always.
“Katsuki,” you whisper, eyes already welling with tears.
He’s looking at you the second the door opens—but his tired eyes soften with relief, just a little, when they land on you. “You came,” he says, voice rough.
“Of course I came,” you say, sharper than you mean to. How could he think you wouldn’t? How far have you let things go that he could genuinely believe you wouldn’t show up for him? “What the hell happened?”
He sighs, almost embarrassed. “Just…work ‘n shit.”
You sniffle, and he lifts his good arm toward you. That’s all it takes.
You’re at his side in an instant, squeezing into the small space beside him on the hospital bed and curling yourself against his chest. You’re careful not to disturb any of the machines surrounding him, but you can’t stop thinking about how wrong this feels. How you shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. How he’s the one lying in a hospital bed, yet somehow he’s still the one rubbing your back and soothing your tears.
“I thought you were gonna die,” you sob. “I—I saw the rubble, and Kiri stopped texting back and...and I thought you got crushed.”
“M’not fuckin’ dying, babe,” he huffs, sounding mildly offended. “A stupid building isn’t killin’ me. That’s a dumbass way to go.”
“You don’t know that,” you shake your head. “You can’t promise that.”
“Listen—”
“And I was sitting there watching the news and thinking the last conversation I ever had with you was that stupid fight,” you continue, looking up at him with trembling lips.
His eyes soften. “I know, but—”
“And I don’t care about the argument anymore,” you say, your voice shaking harder now. “I don’t care about being right or winning or being apologized to first—I should’ve texted you, you’re right. You...you probably felt like I didn’t care, but I do. I care so much, and I love you more than anything.”
You take a breath that does absolutely nothing to steady you. Katsuki is trying to wipe your tears away with one weak arm.
“I love you too—”
“I just want you to talk to me,” you sob. “I know I’m annoying, and I nag and scold and get onto you all the time, and I’m trying not to do that as much—really, I am! But I just...I wish you’d tell me things, too. Y’know? I am the one person you’re supposed to do that with, Katsuki,” you add, your voice cracking all over again. “But sometimes, it feels like I’m the last person you want to do that with.”
His expression tightens. “That’s not—”
“And I want us to work because I’ve never liked someone so much—it stresses me out. Because I love you and I want this to work, and the thought of it not working makes me so anxious I wanna throw up, and...and you act like talking to me is harder than getting crushed under a fucking building—”
“Baby.” He squeezes your cheeks together and silences you as he pulls your face closer, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. “You talk a lot, y’know that?”
You huff at him immediately, tears spilling down your cheeks even faster. “That is so rude, given the—”
“I’m sorry about the fight,” he interrupts. You pause, and he takes the opportunity to keep going, despite looking painfully uncomfortable the entire time. “And for...walkin’ out ‘n shit. That was fucked up. I don’t talk to you like I should. You’re right. S’weird for me, and I hate it sometimes. I don’t know how to just...say shit like you do. Okay?” He sighs. “But m’gonna try more because you’re right—I need to talk to you. But you gotta get outta your head so much—” He gives your forehead a small jab with his finger. You sniffle and swat his hand away with a watery scowl. It earns the faintest grin from him. “We’re gonna work,” he says. “’Cause we do. That’s all there is to it, okay?”
“But—”
“No buts,” he grumbles. “My ribs hurt. Jus’ let me be right.”
A watery laugh escapes you as you shake your head, cupping his bandaged face between your hands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, Katsuki.”
“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “So are you. Still love you, though.”
“Me too,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Love you so much.”
He pulls you back down against his chest again, rubbing your back as you listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You trace small patterns into his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. And things are okay—they are not beyond repairing. You’ll inevitably annoy him tomorrow, and he’ll annoy you the day after that, but you’ll still work. You will still find a way to keep things good the way they always are.
After a few quiet moments, he mumbles, “Hey.” When you look up, he says, “When m’all healed and shit, you gotta force me to go grab ramen with my old man. On me.”
────────────────────────
Katsuki waits almost a month after being discharged from the hospital before he finally makes the call. He’s been trying to stall it for as long as possible, but Katsuki, even at the tender age of six, has always been a man (or boy) of his word. He’s standing alone on the balcony outside his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear, wondering if it’s too late to hang up before the call goes through.
It rings twice. Then his father’s voice is as gentle and cheery as ever. “Katsuki!” Masaru answers immediately. “Hi, son!”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey.”
His father laughs. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I got discharged, didn’t I? S’been a whole month.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sounding just like your usual self,” his father says. Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’.”
“Katsuki, you never call for just nothing.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh—it’s now or never. He can’t keep stalling, and Katsuki is, and always has been, a man of his word. If he promised his father ramen over a stupid bet he made twenty years ago, then he’s going to get his father that ramen. Even if it kills his pride. Demolishes it, even.
“Listen, I was thinkin’...maybe we could grab food sometime.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Masaru hums. “Let me ask your mother when she’s free and—”
“Not the hag. S’just you,” he cuts in, rubbing at his temple.
“Oh?” Masaru sounds amused. “Well, okay. I suppose it’d be nice to spend some time as just father and son. What kind of food?”
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Just say it. Just fuckin’ say it, his mind urges. Just rip the bandage off and say it. Say it. Say the damn word—he grits his teeth and forces out, “Ramen.”
There’s a pause on the other end. The silence stretches on long enough that Katsuki’s eye twitches.
“Ramen, huh?” Masaru finally says, and the way he says it makes a vein all but pop in Katsuki's forehead.
“Old man,” he says warningly, “don’t push it—”
He’s cut off when Masaru starts laughing. “I was wondering when this day would come.”
“Hah? You really kept that shit in your head for twenty years?”
“Of course I did. It was one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with you.”
“Why? ‘Cause you love bein’ fuckin’ right all the time?” Katsuki grumbles.
His father’s voice softens as he says fondly, “No. I just wanted you to find someone who made you as happy as your mother makes me. That’s all I wanted, son—for you to understand what being happy is like.”
The conversation is getting oddly sentimental, taking a turn that makes his chest feel strange, and his heart feel far too fragile. He hasn’t felt like this since after the war, and he doesn’t intend to sit with it any longer. So he mutters, “I still think Mom’s annoying. She yelled at me last week, so she never fuckin’ changes.”
Masaru laughs again. “No, she doesn’t.” Then, after a moment, “So, how does Saturday sound for some ramen?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“Will my son be paying?”
Katsuki regrets this call more than anything when he says, “Yes. I’m fuckin’ paying.”
“You know, son,” Masaru murmurs, making Katsuki pause, “I’m glad you get it now. You’ve grown into a fine man.”
Katsuki swallows hard. He turns, eyeing you as you sleep soundly in your shared bed, hugging his pillow to make up for his absence. He can only hope that his father’s words are true—that he is a fine man to you, the way his father always has been to his mother. His eyes never leave your figure as he mutters, “Yeah, well…s’not like I had a bad example or somethin’.”
so anyway i had an argument with my bf the other day but he did not get into an accident and he did not get injured so dont worry. the argument was technically my fault, but im cute and he loves me so its okay <3
suguru never once gave you any reason to believe he didn't find you unbelievably beautiful. he's always touching you in some way, eyes fixated on you, and there's an unwavering soft smile on his face for you. he's been so attracted to you the second he met you.
but you're chatting with shoko and satoru one day when they let it slip that suguru's type used to be so different. they don't mention it maliciously, never intending to make you feel insecure! it was just casually stated and they really didn't think it would strike a chord in you.
he was attracted to a body type completely opposite to yours. you two never had any issues in the bedroom, but this is starting to make you feel more timid. suguru has been busy recently, but you've been wondering if that's why you two haven't been intimate lately.
it seems your personality wasn't one that would've caught suguru's attention either. learning this just made you feel like he's putting up with you. is he forcing himself to like you? do i annoy him? do i bore him? am i too loud around him? am i too anxious? the concerns go on and on, and your mind seems to forget the way he looks at you.
you forget how he makes you feel when he gazes at you so lovingly. suguru finds out about what you all talked about and he's eager to make it clear that you're absolutely all he wants, anyone he liked in the past pales in comparison to you.
horny y/n jumping on bkg even though he’s exhausted from work and still helps her 🤤
i love goofy ideas like these. u WIN
you were the brave one today. working from home… all alone… unable to adjust to your lover not being around… even if he was at work and you planned for this weekday to be at home. especially when you heard him let himself into your apartment while you had to finish up a work call. it was the hastiest, a borderline unprofessional goodbye how you rushed to end the call because he was here finally.
you only saw him a few days ago after all.
stepping into your living room, bakugou katsuki is hard to miss. massive body sitting in the centre of your sofa, he’s got his head in his hands, elbows on his knees in silence, sporting a black hoodie and shorts.
“you okay?” you ask, practically floating to stand in front of him, tugging his hand so he can uncover his face for you.
when he pulls away, looking up at you, your heart drops to your clit. in sickness or health, whatever words you’ll be saying on your wedding day to this man… well, you get it now.
katsuki meets your eyes with these droopy ones, cushioned with two dark bags underneath them. to anyone else it looks like he’s gonna curse you out any second, his eyes are practically slits but you can note, it’s just tiredness, especially when he leans his head into your palm.
his posture is slouched, body completely and utterly exhausted. this pro hero, one of the best in the world, needs to be on at all times, ready for anything but you, you get the privilege of seeing him off. ready for bed and a hot shower.
katsuki rests his cheek in your palm, those angry ruby gems becoming puppy like, “‘m fine.”
next, his hands hold onto the backs of your thighs keeping you still so he can press his face into your stomach. you feel his whole body sigh into you.
“you don’t look it. you look like shit,” you offer and you get two bouncing shoulders in a short laugh.
“y’got a lisp now? you mean sexy?” he muffles into your stomach, then presses his chin into you so he can look at you properly.
you smooth down his eyebrows with your thumbs. you notice a touch of hoarseness in his words. you press your thighs together.
your smile is apparent in your voice, “you’ve got this defeated look going on.” you bite down on your bottom lip, “it is a little sexy. maybe a lot.”
bakugou thinks he’s in with the joke at the beginning, till you shuffle in closer to him, the press of your hand on his cheek gets harder and he notices the change of pitch in your breath. even the black of your pupils widen, he sees this in real time. you’re not joking at all actually.
that gets him sitting up slightly, a smirk falling on his features. you pout when he does, staring at his lips like a wife separated from their husband for years. he knows his smile is a killer for you, a soft sigh leaving you at the sight of his gold canine and white teeth.
“gimme a kiss,” he demands and the good listener you are, you lean down to press yours against his.
it’s family friendly for the most part, three pecks until his pawlike hands sneak up your thighs to under your ass cheeks.
when you both pull away, you’re staring at each other for a few seconds until you lick your thumb and rub under his eyebrow.
“you didn’t get all your eye stuff off,” you whisper, referring to his eye makeup he likes to put on under his mask.
bakugou grunts in response, letting you clean up the left over marks he didn’t scrub.
“how long have you been waitin’ for me?”
always so perceptive. it makes your eyes widen like you’ve been caught out. “well i’ve been working—,”
“baby,” he soothes, in that soft way like you’ve done something silly and you won’t get in trouble for admitting whatever it is. even though he already knows.
“since the morning,” you breathe, eager to undress on the spot, to get his hands on your bare skin, to jump on his lap and pull down his shorts.
but the exhaustion is still apparent on his body. his movements are noticeably slower now that he can let his guard down.
“hm,” he replies and you run your fingers through his hair, pushing all his blonde locks back to reveal his face. your boyfriend is incredibly handsome. you press an extra kiss to the scar on his cheek and bakugou pulls you in. your knees sink into the sofa as you straddle his lap.
hot hands that were under your ass, sneak under your blouse. they’re like a relief patch, causing your skin to buzz in anticipation.
“what d’you want?” he hums and you’re already ready for your body to bounce on something, fingers twitching as they rest on his shoulders.
“katsuki,” you whine, rubbing your nose against his. his eyelashes brush against yours. “don’t ask me that.”
nimble fingers shift to the little buttons at your blouse. bakugou works on you while you’re fighting your own internal battle.
“why not, baby?”
“you’re tired from saving the city. i’m not going to make you have sex with me because i’m horny.”
bakugou rolls his eyes, completely humoured by the way you let him shimmy you out of your blouse, now sitting on him in your pretty lace balconette bra. he kisses the softness of your breast and you’re completely reactive, arching your back into his face.
“y’think i don’t wanna love you?”
the wording makes you mewl, hugging katsuki’s big head to your chest. your body blushes with heat, unable to look him in the eye, “don’t be adorable when i want you to put me in doggy.”
bakugou chuckles, “on your knees. let me do it.”
“didn’t you have a long day today?”
he looks you in the eye, “the fuckin’ longest. sixteen hours, everyone was on my ass.”
“then you need to sleep.”
“or i can have sex with my girlfriend.”
you have the audacity to look shy, knowing there’s a damp patch if he checked your panties right now. “but you’re exhausted.”
“babygirl.”
“babyboy.”
bakugou raises his eyebrows, “that’s new. i dunno if i like that.”
you shuffle on his lap, your crotch right over his. you’re delighted to find he’s sporting a semi, in fact, it makes you want to rabidly rub yourself over him like an animal in heat.
you kiss the corner of his jaw, tugging the neckline of his hoodie so you have space to kiss his neck. bakugou’s eyes flutter shut in response, hands on your bare waist.
“you’re my baby and you’re my boy.”
bakugou tuts, grabbing the back of his hoodie and tugging it over his head. he’s got nothing on underneath it to your joy, leaving his bare chest on display for you. you lowly moan at the sight of his biceps, the scars that run through them, the discoloured skin that merges with his blushed skin. one hand on you, another giving his toned abdomen a necessary rub.
“i’m your man.”
“fuck,” you whisper, standing up to pull off your leggings and sitting back on his lap like you never left. “and you’re sure? not too tired?”
he’s uncouth when he hooks a finger in your underwear, then runs the pad of his thumb to gather your wetness over your clit. your body slumps into him, giving bakugou all your weight for him to hold up.
“you underestimate how easy it is for me to get you to come.” he smirks, chuffed at himself for how well he knows you. “could do this half asleep. i have done this half asleep.”
referring to the four am sex you had a few days ago when you came all over his fingers with his tongue in your throat. eyes closed and half conscious.
“don’t be so cocky,” you moan for the wrong reasons, loving the slow comfortable pace of his thumb. pleasure rolls through your body softly, your hands mindlessly palming him.
“take him out then.”
“don’t him your dick.”
but still you do, yanking down his shorts and feeling the saliva build in your mouth at the feeling then sight. his adonis belt, deep ridges and harsh muscle. then him, thick and heavy. his cute red tip with veins running up the length of him.
“you love it.”
you’re nodding without realising, placing your palm on the scar on the centre of your boyfriend’s chest.
“fuck me,” you whine, sitting on your knees and shuffling to adjust to sit on his cock. “wanna feel you, ‘tsuki.”
though he stops you, hands on your hips.
“on your hand and knees, babygirl. like you want.”
do you ever just feel overly horny, overworked and underfucked but you KNOW izu wouldn’t let his sweet girl feel neglected
✩꒱ overworked, underpaid and severely fucked — ft. izuku midoriya .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ pro hero izuku midoriya & fem!reader. oral sex, established relationship, care taker izuku. -> izuku midoriya is a good boyfriend, pervy and a little weird … but good. what? it’s not his fault that you’re so easy to look after.
overworked, underpaid but not!! underfucked when you’re with izuku !!!
he’s a little weird, a little perverted but he can be a really good boyfriend if you just give him a chance. promise! izuku is so doting, he’ll leap at the chance to take care of something for you even if you insist you’re getting along well financially.
the first time you let him pay for your food shop and essentials, he walks out of the store with three bags for life on each arm and a boner he just barely manages to conceal. you’re huffy and annoyed because you hardly need the stuff he picked up but it’s enough to last you, so you can’t complain. you kiss deku stupid after he’s loaded the car and lick into his mouth when he settles into the driver’s seat. “always happy to help you, baby.” he murmurs giddy. “just text me what you need next time, you don’t even have to leave the house.” between smooches he doesn’t say he expects a thank you, but you feel the way his chest bristles bristles beneath your fingertips whenever you do give your thanks. as though you’re praising the lord and graced him enough to give you this blessing. he is a little weird.
izuku has an annoying tendency to know what you need before you need it. a bath with lavender oil and candlelight upon return from a three day business trip out of city helping with company interviews — one you had no say on going to. a home-cooked meal because you didn’t have a chance to grab lunch between meetings, although pork katsudon is all he’s good for ( he’ll call kacchan for recipes and cooking advice once you tire of his own skill set). a new work bag because the one you’ve had since starting busted at the strap on the way home, your new one just so happens to be designer because the leather is stronger.
he does it all with a kiss pressed to your cheek and a smile that causes a crinkle at the corner of his eyes — sickly sweet and sticky against you but you tell him thank you all the same and he tells you anything, always. in response. you’re spoiled rotten to the point of feeling suffocated but it’s good, so good, to be swept off your feet for a little while.
izuku is a great listener too. you’ll come home from your job where they don’t pay you enough pennies to give a fuck, designer purse now abandoned on the sideboard by the counter with your keys, heels clicking angrily and izuku will be there ready to hear you out. take your mind off things for a little while.
“you’re frowning, sweet girl, what’s wrong?”
then he’s on his knees, crisp white blouse taut against his chest and tie loose, as he slips your heels off one by one accompanied by angel’s kisses. he lets you curse and vent, spill foul secrets about your coworker who keeps taking credit for your work and your boss who demands too much in too little time all while nodding with bouncing ever-green curls brushing against the inside of your thighs and up your itty bitty pencil skirt.
you ramble on and on, your nails taking through his curls as he descends down on your centre. lips hot on your panties, teething at the fabric that’s already wet and has been since he first sunk to his knees before you — placing you at epicentre of his entire universe. izuku nods at the same time he kisses your clit, agreement in the form of sucking the slick from you as if you’re the only source of life for a thousand miles.
“and god, zu — she stole that client from right u-under my nose!” you’re scowling but your body melts into him below, your hips buck over his nose and he thinks for a second he could die here, happy and unable to breathe if it meant drowning in the deliciousness of your cunt. you’re sweeter when you’re pissed off, when you use him to ease the tension wound tight in your shoulders. izuku is desperate for you to use him, need him, he prefers life this way.
“mhm…” he says, or groans, or sighs blissfully like he’s really listening to you. focused on the tale of how that petty girl at your petty job keeps taking the credit. hed take care of that too, if you let him — call them up and say hero deku had a complaint to make. he settles for this, the now, the exact moment you clench around the thickness of his tongue as it thrusts far enough along your slippery walls to make your body shake. maybe it’s selfish off him, that izuku waits for you to get all riled up at work so that you come home to him like this. broiling under the flesh, smelling like sex that stirs his appetite into something more sinister.
when you hug the back of his head to your weeping slit, izuku purrs as though he’s been rewarded. his tongue does a sweet of the entire length of your cunt, gathers what you drool in viscous waves and smelts his spit into the molten mix, frothy cream gathering just around your hole and clit. messy, greedy, filthy but he doesn’t let up even when his chin is painted with a varnish of arousal.
he doesn’t mind being your crutch or your tool to pass a bad day by, as long as you’re above him like this — toes digging into his shoulders, fist tight in his hair, . “a-and seriously, zu. f-fuck, fuck that girl. fuck. i’m gonna cum!” you squeak shakily and he knows the job is done. you’re happy and you’re distracted, babbling god knows what about who knows what but the anger once built up inside you snaps like an easy spring. your orgasm is melt in the mouth, a piece of heaven created just for izuku to indulge in.
perhaps it is weird and perverted that he loves to be used and to use his skill on you… but you like it and maybe that makes you a little perverted too.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
not me seeing the guy i went on a date with last year at the library i'm interning at rn..... i mean i expected encountering him here but truly got jump scared NAURRRRR
suguru gripping your waist and kissing you so deeply. you're weak in the knees and he's following you as you bend down. one hand comes up to cup the back of your head and his fingers get tangled in your hair. he's kissing you relentlessly. it's hard to breathe and you try to pull away, but he just smiles and keeps going.
I NEED TO BE KISSED LIKE THIS PLEASE GOD PLEASE *queue Remember the Time by Michael Jackson, that kiss did something to me*
FOR REFERENCE- THIS!!!!!!!! and god she just keeps on getting lower and him following. THIS IS WHAT I NEED (snippet of the scene: https://pin.it/4jRF5hptK)
suguru gripping your waist and kissing you so deep. you're weak in the knees and he's following you as you bend down. one hand comes up to cup the back of your head and his fingers get tangled in your hair. he's kissing you relentlessly. it's hard to breathe and you try to pull away, but he just smiles and keeps going.
I NEED TO BE KISSED LIKE THIS PLEASE GOD PLEASE *queue Remember the Time by Michael Jackson, that kiss did something to me*
your super rich boyfie!satoru takes spoiling you very seriously ♡
oh, satoru has a hero complex. a big one. it's not even the typical 'i need to save the world' hero complex (though he has that, too). it's the 'i need to save you from mild inconveniences' complex. and it's exhausting.
you’d think that being a jujutsu sorcerer would make the little things seem insignificant—like a burnt piece of toast or a flat tire—but to satoru, these things were personal attacks on your peace and happiness. a minor inconvenience to you was an all-out emergency for him.
for example, the other day, you came home after a particularly long mission, grumbling about how the straps on your backpack were digging into your shoulders. a perfectly normal, end-of-the-day complaint. but satoru’s eyes went wide, his smile vanishing, and he instantly became a whirlwind of frantic planning.
“no, no, no, absolutely not. that’s unacceptable,” he declared, already pulling out his phone. "which brand? what color? i'm getting you a whole new luggage set, a proper one. i’m talking custom-made, ergonomic straps, with memory foam lining the shoulders. maybe we should look into a personal chauffeur, too, for your next trips. that way you don’t have to carry anything at all.”
you just stared at him, tilting your head. “satoru, it’s just, like, a backpack. i’m just tired.”
“exactly! you shouldn’t be tired! you should be pampered! this is all the backpack’s fault,” he insisted, dramatically throwing your perfectly fine, slightly worn-out bag into a corner. he then pulled you onto the couch, already ordering takeout from your favorite high-end restaurant because you "clearly need high-quality nutrients to recover from such shoulder trauma."
you sighed, burying your face into his shoulder. "i just wanted a hug, 'toru."
he tightened his arms around you, but his phone was still glowing with shopping tabs. "a hug and a five-star dining experience, darling. and maybe a whole new wardrobe. just in case those clothes are also... digging into you. or something."
you knew better than to argue. the fight had been lost the moment your mildly strained shoulders had been mentioned. you were beautiful, and you were his, and therefore, you must be protected from everything, even the minor discomforts of daily life.
was walking over to grab something to eat during my break and i am so used to strangers calling out for something that i absolutely IGNORED this man who was trying to compliment my outfit. then again, i really do not want to be spoken to cuz im hungry and on a mission. sorry dude, thanks for the compliment but i also didn't know if u were genuine LOL
i'm not narcissistic or arrogant!!!! i have anxiety and was too focused on food....
Price looked visibly caught off guard of why Gaz has left so suddenly, so hastily.
But they didn't understand.
Only Gaz did, as he ran through the rain towards the house you two shared he remembered clearly with dread the words you told him after you accepted to marry him.
"I you ever cheat on me,I won't disturb you darling, it was your choice after all, but I'll disappear completely and leave you alone"
So that was why he felt like crying the moment he barged in your house.
"Darling!, Sweets!, please" where are you?"
He choked out helplessly and loud enough for it to echo through the walls.
He looked for you through all the house, instead he found empty spaces where your clothes were supposed to be, your stuff missing, and even your favorite cup wasn't where it used to be.
What did he find?, your rings, and wedding photos, both of them intact, his breath hitched, his heart seized on his chest, taking them with trembling hands.
"I am going to assesinate Mctavish"
Said the militarized man in his soul, but he shook his head, desperate to find you.
What do you do when the woman you've loved through hell and back was gone to the storm rain.
"Damnitdammitdammit" He felt a sudden panic, where the fuck were you?, he needed to explain Soap's shitty joke and that he would never cheat on you.
He thought about your favorite places, the airport, the park, the mall.
The city train.
That's it, with new motivation and throat tight he closed the house, put your rings on his pocket, and ran, ran as fast as he could, knowing you wouldn't go to far away.
Vs
You, who still sniffling but strong, still tried to move your backpack and stuff through the heavy rain with a tiny umbrella, and against the wind, kept walking, each step farther from the man you loved more than anything, but who you thought betrayed you in the cruelest way possible.
You felt one heavy bag get dirty with mud and get stuck in a hole, and cursing under your breath you helplessly tried to clean it a little and move it without your stuff getting on the dirty ground, the darkness wasn't helping you a lot plus the big achd on your chest.
"Move you stupid thing" you whimpered heartbroken, and then you heard a faint running.
Your eyes flickered up, scared, and then widened to see a flashlight.
And Garrick
You scoffed, hiding your relief through grief, glaring at him with teary eyes as he slowed his pace, unlike you who was breathless from running and crying, he was a complete mess, dirty, swearing, wet and.
Was he crying too?
"what do you want?"
You snarled heartbroken, hating how cruel you sounded, the bitterness on your soul speaking for you.
He flinched, slowly trying to step towards you as you both ignored the heavy rain.
You were about to step backwards, mumble a curse or snap at him, your insecurities getting the better of you.
But then he knelt down.
Kyle "I despise mud" Garrick, knelt on actual dirty mud that had rain water, grass and probably some dog's pee.
Looking up at you, he said the words you would still remember ten years later when you both had children and a bigger house.
"My dearest, the love of my life, you need to understand I would NEVER, and I mean NEVER. betray you, I love you more than life itself and I would rather die than see a single tear on your face, I promise on my still alive mother and the gods who keep me alive that I didn't make that stupid profile, it was Johnny, the bastard thought it was funny, I have proofs, and if I have to buy the sky to show you I would never betray you like that, I will"
He vowed, and suddenly you felt small, and dizzy, your husband, a man hardened by the years and the betrayals, was kneeling in front of you like out of a fairy tale, promising you the world the same way you did when you thought you almost lost him in that life threatening mission.
Everything felt numb when you felt your legs give out, hugging him and bursting into tears, not noticing the rain dimming, or the way he started fully ugky-crying too, getting up rith you against his chest, trembling at the thought of almost losing his entire world.
