🌸*𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐢⋆.ೃ࿔

hey guyssss I write sometimes bc I’m bored af

[strawberrychansora]

the tactical babysitting incident

megumi x fem!reader

art credit: getoad on twitter

note: yuji shrinks into a baby and megumi treats him like a live bomb while trying to be a good boyfriend to you in the rain. zero plot just vibes, fluff, and megumi being megumi. i found this pic on pinterest which made me think of this fic idea!

~

it is raining. of course it is raining, because today was already a disaster before yuji decided to touch a cursed object shaped like a squishy pink thumb that belonged to a curse user who thought it would be funny to trap a toddler-sized incarnation of ryomen sukuna in an even smaller, drooling vessel. you are standing under the broken awning of a convenience store that smells like damp cardboard and old fried food, your uniform sticking to your skin, feeling like you are about to pass out from pure exhaustion.

megumi is standing right next to you, his hair sticking up in even sharper spikes than usual because of the drizzle, holding a crying yuji. yuji’s tiny face is scrunched up red, his little fists waving in the air, and every time he hiccups, a faint, terrifying spark of cursed energy flickers around his tiny baby toes like a tiny, cursed nightlight.

"idiot," megumi mutters, his voice dropping into that deep, annoyed register that means he is five seconds away from summoning his dogs just to electrocute himself out of this conversation. he shifts yuji awkwardly in his arms, his strong fingers cradling the back of a baby head that currently holds the soul of the king of curses. "he's heavy. why is he so heavy? he weighs like ten pounds, but it feels like fifty. it's the sheer density of being an idiot."

you let out a half-laugh, leaning your shoulder against megumi's arm, feeling the solid, warm muscle beneath the wet fabric of his jacket. "be nice to him, megumi. he doesn't know his name is yuji right now. he thinks your thumb is a french fry."

megumi glances down, his dark eyes softening by a fraction of a millimeter—just for you, because he’d never let yuji see him look this domestic—and he sighs, a long puff of cold air escaping his lips. "he bit me. look." he tilts his chin down, showing you a tiny, pink, toothless mark on his thumb. "how does a baby with no teeth break the skin? i’m pretty sure sukuna's malice just manifested as hard gums."

yuji lets out a loud, wet raspberry sound, blowing a bubble of spit that lands right on megumi’s collarbone. megumi freezes. you can see the exact moment his soul leaves his body. his jaw tightens, his shoulders square up like he's facing a special grade, and he looks at you with wide, betrayed eyes. "take him."

"nope," you grin, stepping just an inch closer so your arm brushes his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him despite the chill in the air. "you're the one he likes. look at him, he’s staring at your hair like it’s a snack."

megumi groans, looking back down at the tiny pink menace who has now grabbed a fistful of megumi’s high collar and is chewing on it with intense, baby-eyed focus. "itadori. spit that out. it’s polyester and cheap detergent. you'll get cursed poisoning. well, more cursed poisoning." yuji just giggles, a high, squeaky sound that echoes off the rusty metal of the shuttered shop door. megumi's expression melts just a tiny bit more, his thumb instinctively rubbing a circle against yuji's tiny back to stop him from wailing again. "we have to walk three miles back to the dorms because the train station is flooded. my legs are soaked. you're quiet today."

"i'm saving my energy for when he learns how to crawl at thirty miles per hour," you murmur, sliding your hand into his jacket pocket, tangling your cold fingers with his warm ones where he's holding the hem of his coat. he doesn't pull away. instead, his fingers tighten around yours, a quick, grounding squeeze that he only does when he's stressed out of his mind and needs to make sure you're still real.

"don't say things like that," megumi mutters, shifting yuji again with a soft grunt. his thumb brushes over your knuckles inside the pocket. "we'll get back. i'll make tea. you can sit on the floor and i'll deal with him. you've been doing most of the exorcising this week anyway. i hate seeing you look tired."

"i'm not tired when i'm with you," you tease softly, tilting your head up to look at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw shadowed by the gray evening light.

megumi's ears turn a faint, stubborn shade of pink, though he refuses to look down at you directly, keeping his gaze fixed on yuji who has now stopped chewing the collar and is aggressively trying to poke megumi’s eyeball. "shut up. you say embarrassing things when it's raining."

"you love it when it's raining."

"i tolerate it," he corrects, dodging yuji's sticky little finger with expert reflex. "and i tolerate him. barely. look at him, yuji, if you puke on my uniform again i am leaving you with gojo-sensei for a whole week."

at the sound of gojo's name, or maybe just because he's a baby, yuji's bottom lip starts to tremble. a massive tear wells up in his brown eye, catching the dim neon glow of a flickering sign across the street. megumi panics. you can see the absolute terror in his green-tinted eyes—not of curses, not of death, but of a crying infant who might draw a swarm of low-level spirits if his cursed energy spikes from a tantrum.

"hey. hey, don't do that," megumi whispers frantically, lowering his voice into a weirdly gentle tone that he reserves exclusively for stray dogs and, apparently, infant host bodies. he bounces his arm up and down, a stiff, robotic motion. "itadori. stop. look, there's a shiny thing. look at your little shoes. they're stupid. you like stupid things."

yuji lets out a high-pitched wail that pierces the quiet rain.

"give him here," you whisper, laughing as you reach out and pull yuji out of megumi’s frozen grip. the moment yuji hits your chest, smelling faintly of baby powder and wet dog from the alley, he sniffs twice, grabs the fabric of your shirt, and promptly falls fast asleep with his mouth open against your collarbone.

megumi stands there for a second with his arms empty, looking down at his chest where the wet spot is, then up at you. his breath comes out in a long, shaky sigh of relief, his shoulders finally dropping three inches. he reaches out, his palm cupping the back of your head, his thumb pressing gently into your hair, pulling you that much closer so you're sharing the tiny dry patch under the roof.

"you're better at this," he says quietly, his voice rough and low right against your ear, the scent of rain and cedar soap wrapping around you.

"i'm just better at everything," you whisper back, smiling against yuji's soft pink hair.

megumi doesn't argue. he just looks at you, his dark eyes heavy and fierce and entirely too soft for a sorcerer who is supposed to be dead inside, and then he leans down, pressing a quick, dry kiss against your temple right where the hair is damp from the drizzle. "let's go home before sukuna decides teething means biting through my neck."

~

the rain doesn't stop, it just gets that annoying fine mist flavor where you can’t even tell if you’re getting wet until your socks are completely soaked through and squishing inside your boots with every single step. yuji is still heavy as a brick, completely passed out against your chest, snoring this tiny little baby snore that would be cute if you weren't fully aware that his soul is currently sharing apartment space with a four-armed demon who probably wants to murder all of you right now.

megumi is walking so close to you that your arms keep bumping together, his shoulder hitting yours every few paces because he keeps trying to position his body to block the wind from hitting you and the baby. he looks completely miserable, his long eyelashes clumped together from the mist, his hands shoved deep into his pockets while his elbows stick out like little wings.

"you're gonna trip," he mutters, his eyes darting down to the broken pavement where a puddle the size of a small lake has formed. "give him back to me. you've been carrying him for twenty minutes and your shoulder is dipping."

"i'm fine, gumi, he's like a little hot water bottle," you say, shifting yuji slightly so his chubby cheek is pressed more comfortably against your collarbone. "besides, you were holding him like he was a live bomb. your arms were shaking."

"they were not shaking," he says quickly, his voice dropping into that sharp, defensive tone he gets whenever you call him out on being a softie. "i was maintaining a stable grip so his neck didn't snap. infants have zero spinal support. it's a design flaw."

you laugh under your breath, the sound muffled by the damp fabric of your collar. "sure, okay. whatever helps you sleep at night."

"i don't sleep," he replies automatically, though there's no real bite to it. he steps closer, his fingers reaching out from his pocket to grab the edge of your hood, pulling it up over your head so the drizzle stops hitting your forehead. his fingers brush your cheek for a second, his skin cold from the air but his touch so incredibly gentle it makes your chest ache. "your hair is freezing. you're gonna catch a fever and then shoko is going to lecture me about teamwork."

"she wouldn't lecture you, she'd just give you that look," you point out, smiling up at him from under the oversized hood.

megumi shudders slightly, probably remembering the last time he ended up in the infirmary because he forgot to eat for two days during a long mission tracking three separate grade twos. "that look is worse than a lecture. it feels like being dissected by a scalpel made of pure judgment."

you keep walking down the empty mountain road that leads up to jujutsu high, the tall cedar trees casting long, creepy shadows across the asphalt as the sky turns from dark gray into a deep, bruised purple. yuji stirs suddenly, his tiny hand reaching up to grab a clump of your hair, twisting his fingers into it and pulling hard enough to make you wince.

"ow, ow, itadori, let go," you whisper-hiss, trying to pry his tiny, super-strength baby fingers out of your scalp without waking him up fully.

before you can even do anything, megumi stops walking entirely. his hands come out of his pockets and he leans over you, his face so close you can see the tiny gold flecks in his dark eyes and smell the faint scent of green tea and cedar on his breath. his long, pale fingers weave into your hair, carefully untangling yuji's grip with an amount of patience that he literally never shows anyone else in his life. his knuckles brush against your scalp, sending a stupid, warm shiver straight down your spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the freezing rain.

"he's an idiot," megumi murmurs, his face inches from yours as he finally manages to free your hair, his thumb lingering against your temple for a second longer than necessary to smooth down a stray lock. "even when he's ten pounds, he's causing property damage to my girlfriend."

the word girlfriend sounds so domestic coming from him, especially with his voice all low and raspy from the cold. you look up at him, your breath mingling together in little white clouds in the freezing air. "your girlfriend, huh?"

megumi's eyes widen slightly like he just realized what he said, and he instantly pulls his hands back, shoving them straight into his jacket pockets while his ears turn a furious, bright red that stands out against his pale skin. "you know what i mean. tactical partner. coworker. whatever."

"right, coworker," you tease, stepping into his space so your wet jackets rub together. "because coworkers definitely kiss each other on the temple under convenience store awnings."

"it was a strategic distraction," he mumbles, looking away toward the trees, his jaw tight as he tries to pretend he isn't completely flustered. "to keep you from complaining about the rain."

"uh-huh."

"it worked, didn't it?" he shoots back, though he can't quite keep the tiny, fond twitch from the corner of his lips.

yuji lets out a massive yawn, his mouth opening so wide his little jaw clicks, and he smacks his lips together before going completely limp against you again, a tiny trail of drool puddle-ing onto your uniform shoulder. megumi looks down at the wet spot on your shirt, then up at your face, his expression softening into something so soft it makes your throat feel tight.

without saying another word, he takes his left hand out of his pocket and reaches over, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand up until his fingers slide between yours, locking them together in a tight, firm grip. his palm is finally warm from being in his coat, and he squeezes your hand twice, anchoring you to his side as you both tackle the final steep hill toward the school gates.

"i've got you," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on the path ahead but his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against the back of your hand. "just a little further. the barriers are right up there."

by the time you finally push through the heavy wooden gates of the school, the lights from the dorm building are glowing like warm little squares through the foggy night. the courtyard is completely empty, thank god, which means gojo hasn't noticed your return yet, or he's currently busy buying limited-edition mochi in another prefecture.

megumi leads you down the hall of the second-year dorms, his hand never once letting go of yours until you reach the door of his room. he jiggles the lock open with his free hand and pushes the door inward, the familiar smell of his room—clean laundry, old books, and a faint hint of ink—instantly wrapping around you like a dry blanket.

you practically collapse onto the edge of his unmade bed, carefully laying yuji down in the center of the dark green comforter. the baby rolls onto his stomach, his little legs kicking once before he buries his face into megumi’s pillow, snoring contentedly.

"don't get up," megumi commands softly, his voice dropping into that gentle, authoritative tone he uses when he's looking after you. he kicks off his wet boots at the doorway, dropping his damp uniform jacket onto the floor without even caring that it's getting the wood wet. he goes over to his small closet, pulling out a thick, oversized black hoodie that smells completely like him, along with a pair of soft gray sweatpants.

he walks back over to the bed, dropping the dry clothes into your lap. "change into these. you're shivering. i'm going to go make that tea, and if i hear gojo sesnei’s voice in the hallway, i'm locking the door and pretending we died on the mission."

you look up at him, your fingers curling into the soft fleece of his hoodie. "thanks, gumi."

megumi stands by the edge of the bed for a second, looking down at you with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair a complete mess from the storm. then, slowly, he kneels down on the floor right in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours for a long, quiet moment, his eyes closed as he just breathes you in.

"i'm glad you're okay," he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. "today was stupid. but... i'm glad i was with you."

before you can even reply, he leans up those extra two inches and presses a soft, lingering kiss against your mouth, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the wind. it's not rushed or frantic like everything else in your lives as sorcerers; it's just slow and sweet and smells like home. when he pulls away, his eyes are dark and heavy with a look that belongs entirely to you, his thumbs giving your knees one last gentle squeeze.

"change," he mutters, his cheeks hitting that pink shade again as he stands up quickly and turns toward the door. "before the idiot wakes up and demands a bottle of cursed energy."

you smile as the door clicks shut behind him, pulling his warm hoodie over your head and feeling completely safe for the first time all day.

~

taglist: @b-bitter @lilyxii @starsforvia @sugurusbeloved

[zrqinn]

Cold night

[aransmind]

friends in another universe

[xoxolaw]

the rumors are true - actor!gojo x reader

After months of speculation, Gojo Satoru and Y/N attend the biggest award night of the year, where their film receives recognition and their undeniable chemistry becomes impossible for the audience to ignore.

The room was already alive before the show had even begun. Thousands of lights filled the venue, reflecting off glass tables, polished floors, and the carefully arranged decorations that transformed the space into something far beyond an ordinary event.

The biggest names in the industry sat beneath the same ceiling. Actors. Directors. Producers. People who had spent years building careers, creating stories, and shaping the entertainment world.

And tonight, everyone had gathered for one reason.

The awards.

The camera swept across the audience as the opening music began. Conversations slowly faded. People turned toward the stage. The massive screen behind the host illuminated, displaying the title of the ceremony in elegant lettering.

The crowd applauded as the host stepped onto the stage.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the 78th Annual Entertainment Excellence Awards.”

The applause grew louder. He smiled, taking a moment to look around the room. “Tonight, we celebrate the stories that moved us, the performances that stayed with us, and the artists who reminded us why we fell in love with this industry in the first place.”

The camera moved through the audience. A few familiar faces appeared on screen, earning cheers from the crowd.

The host continued. “And this year has given us some truly unforgettable films.”

The screen behind him changed. Clips from the year’s biggest releases appeared one after another. Action sequences. Emotional performances. Scenes that audiences had spent months discussing.

Then-

The familiar image appeared. Two characters standing across from each other in the rain. The audience immediately reacted. The host smiled knowingly.

“And one film that captured everyone’s attention this year…”

The screen displayed the title. The reaction was immediate. Cheers, applause. and whispers spreading through the room.

“The film that proved enemies can become allies, that trust can be built in the most unexpected places, and that sometimes the strongest performances come from the chemistry between two people.”

The camera moved.

Gojo Satoru sat comfortably in his seat, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. He gave a small smile as the audience reacted. Beside him, Y/N looked slightly overwhelmed by the attention, offering a polite wave before laughing quietly.

“Tonight, we’ll be celebrating some of the incredible work from that film.”

The camera returned to the stage. “And I think it’s only fair to say…” A pause. “The world has been waiting for this night.”

The audience laughed. The camera immediately cut back to Gojo and Y/N.

Gojo leaned slightly toward her, a quiet smile on his face. “They’re talking about us again,” he whispered.

Y/N didn’t look at him. “They’re always talking about us.”

Back on stage, the host continued. “Now, before we begin tonight’s awards, we have some very exciting categories ahead.”

The screen changed again.

“Starting with one of the most anticipated awards of the evening…”

The room quieted.

“Best Long Running Series.”

A soft wave of recognition moved through the audience. This was one of those categories that always carried history with it, decades of storytelling, global fanbases, and cultural impact that stretched far beyond the industry itself.

The nominees appeared on the screen.

Naruto

A roar of applause immediately followed. The screen flashed iconic moments, final battles, emotional farewells, generations of characters growing up alongside the audience.

Bleach

Another wave of cheers. Sword clashes, spiritual energy bursts, and legendary fights filled the screen in quick cuts.

One Piece

The loudest reaction yet.

The screen barely had time to show anything before the audience erupted. A montage of adventure, laughter, heartbreak, and endless seas played across the display.

The host smiled, clearly enjoying the energy in the room.

“All incredible series that have shaped generations of viewers.”

A pause. “But there can only be one winner.”

The envelope was opened. A beat of silence.

Then-

“One Piece.”

The room exploded.

The applause was immediate, loud, and unrestrained. Somewhere in the audience, people were already standing before the announcement had even fully settled.

On stage, the production team quickly shifted into motion. And then the chaos began. Because the One Piece cast did not simply walk onto the stage.

They arrived.

A wave of people poured in from both sides of the auditorium, more than anyone had anticipated. Cast members, creators, producers, each one stepping forward with the kind of energy that suggested they had collectively decided subtlety was unnecessary.

Within seconds, the stage was no longer a stage. It was crowded. Very crowded. The host took a careful step back, blinking as more people kept arriving.

“I- okay- this is… this is more than I was briefed on,” he said, laughing as he tried to make space.

The audience was in stitches. From the crowd, Gojo leaned slightly toward Y/N, watching the situation unfold with clear amusement. “…I don't think that's even one percent of the cast,” he said.

Y/N stared at the stage. “I think they brought the entire ocean.”

Another group stepped up. Someone tripped slightly on the stairs, was immediately helped up, and continued walking like nothing had happened. The trophy was passed around at least three times before anyone officially held it.

The host finally managed to regain control, though barely. “Congratulations to… everyone,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the stage now filled edge to edge with people.

The audience laughed again. On stage, someone began a speech. Then someone else added to it. Then another. At one point, two people tried to speak at the same time, paused, and politely gestured for the other to continue before both ended up speaking together anyway.

As if on cue, another person stepped onto the stage from the side, looked around, realized there was no space left, and simply joined the edge of the group like it was completely normal.

The host, now partially blocked from view, raised his microphone slightly. “Once again, congratulations to One Piece.”

The applause returned, even louder this time. The cast collectively bowed, waved, and somehow managed to fit the trophy into a group hold situation that defied physics and stage design.

The host adjusted the microphone slightly, the energy in the room shifting almost imperceptibly. “And now,” he said, pausing just long enough for the silence to settle properly, “we move into one of the most anticipated individual categories of the night.”

The screen behind him dimmed. A single spotlight effect pulsed across it. “Best Protagonist of the Year.”

This was the category everyone paid attention to. The one that defined the year. The one that turned performances into legacy. The nominees appeared one by one.

Denji

A burst of applause, mixed with laughter and cheers. The screen showed chaos, blood, humor, heartbreak, everything at once.

Kamado Tanjiro

A warmer reaction followed. The audience softened as clips of determination, grief, and unwavering kindness filled the screen.

Eren Yeager

The atmosphere changed instantly.

The applause was still there, but heavier. More serious. The screen showed flashes of destruction, silence, sacrifice, and the weight of a story that had defined an entire generation.

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly as he watched. “…That’s a lot of trauma in one nomination,” he murmured.

The final nominee appeared.

Itadori Yuji

The audience reacted again, loud, familiar, supportive. The screen showed moments of struggle, resilience, and the constant push forward despite everything.

Gojo leaned back slightly in his seat. “Okay,” he said quietly, “this one’s actually competitive.”

Y/N glanced at him. “You’re biased.”

The host on stage opened the envelope. The room tightened. Even the air felt still. “And the winner of Best Protagonist of the Year is…”

A pause. Long enough to stretch the tension.

“Eren Yeager!”

On screen, the montage returned, Eren’s final moments, the weight of his choices, the quiet devastation of a character who had carried an entire world on his shoulders.

Gojo exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair. “…Yuji should have won.”

The host gave a small laugh, clearly aware of the irony but continuing smoothly. “Moving on to our next category…”

The screen behind him shifted again, the lighting dimming slightly as the tone of the room changed. “Best Antagonist of the Year.”

A ripple went through the audience.

This category always carried a different kind of energy. Less celebration, more fascination. These were the performances that audiences loved to fear, to analyze, to debate long after the credits rolled.

The nominees appeared.

Dio Brando

A loud reaction immediately followed. The screen flashed dramatic moments, iconic lines, and scenes that had lived in internet culture for years.

Makima

The atmosphere shifted again. The applause was quieter, more controlled. The clips that played were unsettling in their calmness, the kind of performance that lingered rather than shouted.

Sukuna

The audience reacted instantly. A mix of cheers and tension. The screen showed destruction, chaos, and a presence that never needed to raise its voice to dominate a scene.

Eren Yeager

A brief silence. Then applause. Heavier than before. More conflicted. The screen showed him again, but differently this time. Not as a hero. Not as a savior. But as something far more complicated. A force that blurred every line the audience thought they understood.

Gojo tilted his head slightly. “…That's so funny.”

Y/N glanced at him. “He might actually win both.”

“That would be insane.”

The host opened the envelope. “And the winner of Best Antagonist of the Year is…”

Another beat.

“Eren Yeager.”

On stage, the screen replayed his most intense moments again, but the tone felt almost ironic now. Hero. Villain. Victim. Destroyer. All of it layered into one character the audience couldn’t neatly categorize anymore.

The host stepped aside as movement began from the side of the stage.

Eren appeared.

A small smile on his face, almost disbelieving as he walked up. He took the trophy, looked at it for a second, then glanced out at the audience like he was still processing the fact that this was real.

He stepped up to the microphone. There was a brief pause. Then he let out a quiet breath. “…Uh.”

A few laughs spread through the room immediately. He adjusted the trophy in his hands.

“It’s funny…” he started, then paused again, shaking his head slightly as if even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “It’s funny winning both Best Protagonist and Antagonist of the Year.”

The audience laughed louder this time. Eren looked down at the trophy again, then back up. “I think that says more about the story than it does about me. I didn’t really play two different people.”

He shrugged slightly. “I think I just played one person… from two different perspectives.”

The room quieted a little at that.

Eren gave a small, almost awkward smile. “I want to thank my cast for carrying me through this project, honestly.” He glanced down at the trophy for a moment before looking back up. “And to the director and the writer… for bringing out such a complex character, and for trusting me enough to give me the chance to play him.” He paused, exhaling lightly. “So… yeah. I guess thank you for watching both sides of it.”

The applause lingered even after Eren stepped away from the microphone, the weight of his words settling into the room in a way that felt different from the earlier excitement. The screen behind the stage dimmed again, the atmosphere shifting as the ceremony moved forward.

The host returned to center stage, adjusting his notes as the energy in the room gradually steadied, while the ceremony moved forward with several more categories being announced and awards being handed out across the room, each winner briefly taking the stage before the spotlight shifted once again.

“And now,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the hall, “we move into the final stretch of tonight’s ceremony.”

A brief pause.

“The categories that define the very heart of performance itself.”

The audience quieted almost instinctively.

“Best Actress of the Year.”

The screen behind him darkened completely for a moment before the nominees began to appear one by one.

A soft ripple of recognition moved through the crowd as each name was revealed.

Mikasa Ackerman

A strong reaction followed immediately. The screen showed quiet intensity, controlled emotion, and a performance built on restraint rather than expression.

Kugisaki Nobara

The energy shifted again. Sharp cuts of confidence, defiance, and presence filled the screen, earning cheers from different sections of the audience.

Power

A louder reaction this time, laughter mixing with applause as chaotic, unpredictable moments flashed across the screen.

Then after a brief pause. The final nominee appeared.

Y/N

The reaction was immediate. Y/N blinked slightly, clearly caught off guard by the volume of applause that followed her name. She gave a small, polite smile, but there was a flicker of disbelief in her expression as she adjusted in her seat.

Beside her, Gojo turned his head slightly.

“…Have you prepared your speech?” he said quietly, like he was stating something obvious.

Y/N looked at him. “I haven't even won.”

“You will.”

On stage, the host smiled knowingly as the applause slowly settled. “All incredible performances,” he said. “Each one bringing something unique, something unforgettable, to the screen this year.”

A pause. “But as always…” The envelope was lifted. “There can only be one winner.”

The room tightened again. Even the smallest movements seemed to slow. The host opened the envelope.

“Y/N!!”

Then the entire room erupted. Y/N froze. Like her brain needed a moment to catch up with what had just been said.

Gojo reacted first. He stood up immediately, clapping with a smile that was far too proud to be subtle. The people around him followed, but his reaction was the loudest in their section.

Y/N finally turned toward him. And he was already looking at her.

“Go,” he said simply.

Y/N let out a small breath, almost like she was laughing at herself, before standing. The applause followed her all the way to the stage. And for the first time that night, the entire room felt like it was watching her not as part of a film…

But as the center of it.

Y/N stood at the edge of the stage for a brief moment, the applause still rolling through the room like a wave that refused to settle. For a second, she just looked out.

Thousands of faces. Cameras. Lights. The kind of silence that only existed between applause and expectation. She exhaled softly, then stepped forward. The trophy was placed into her hands, and it felt heavier than she expected, not physically, but in a way that made her aware of everything that had led her here.

She adjusted the microphone slightly, her fingers still wrapped around the award.

A small breath. And then she smiled. “Um…” she started, letting out a quiet laugh as the audience immediately softened, waiting.

“I think I need a second to process that.”

A few chuckles spread through the room.

She looked down at the trophy for a moment, then back up. “This year… has been a lot.” A pause. “I know that sounds simple, but I don’t really know how else to say it.”

Her grip on the award loosened slightly as she spoke more naturally now. “I started this year thinking I understood what I wanted from acting. I thought I understood what kind of roles I wanted to play, what kind of stories I wanted to be part of.”

She shook her head slightly, almost amused at herself. “And then this film happened.”

A soft reaction from the audience. “I remember the first day on set,” she continued. “I was nervous in a way I didn’t really want to admit. Not because of the role… but because of the people I was working with.”

Her eyes flickered briefly toward the audience, then back to the stage lights. “There are moments in your career where you meet people you’ve admired for a long time. And you expect them to feel… distant. Bigger than you. Hard to reach.”

A small pause. “And then you meet them, and you realize they’re just people who care just as much as you do.”

A few knowing smiles in the audience. She took a breath. “This film challenged me in ways I didn’t expect. Physically, emotionally… even just learning how to trust myself in scenes where I wasn’t supposed to look strong, or certain, or in control.”

Her voice softened slightly.

“But I think the biggest thing I learned this year is that strength doesn’t always look like winning a fight, or delivering a perfect performance, or doing everything right the first time.”

A pause.

“Sometimes it looks like showing up anyway. Even when you’re unsure. Even when you’re scared you’re not enough.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the trophy again.

“And I was really lucky this year.” A small smile. “Because I didn’t have to do that alone.”

A brief shift in the room. Subtle, but noticeable. She didn’t look at anyone in particular, but her tone changed slightly, warmer, more personal. “There were people on this project who pushed me in ways I didn’t think I needed. Who made me better without making me feel like I had to compete with them.”

A soft breath. “And I think that’s rare.”

She finally looked up properly now, her expression steadier. “So… thank you.”

“To everyone who worked on this film. To the cast. To the crew. To the people who trusted me with a role I wasn’t sure I was ready for.”

A small pause. “And to the audience… for seeing the story the way we hoped you would.”

Her smile softened. “This year has been unforgettable. Not because of this moment…” She lifted the trophy slightly. “But because of everything that led to it.”

A beat.

“And I think I’m going to spend a long time being grateful for that.”

The room was quiet for half a second and then it erupted. Applause filled the entire venue, louder than before, warmer somehow. The kind of reaction that didn’t feel like obligation, but recognition.

Y/N let out a small breath, almost laughing now as she stepped back from the microphone. As she turned to leave the stage, her eyes briefly found Gojo in the crowd.

He was still standing. Clapping. And smiling like he already knew she had won long before the envelope was opened.

But as she reached the edge of the stage stairs, Gojo stepped forward from his seat, moving closer to the stage. He extended a hand up toward her, steady and effortless, waiting for her to take it. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in his, and he guided her down the steps.

The host stepped back onto the stage as the applause slowly began to settle, still smiling as he glanced down at his notes and then back up at Y/N.

“I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say that was a beautiful speech.”

A warm wave of laughter and applause followed.He tilted his head slightly, amused. “Although I have to say… it almost felt like you knew you were going to win.”

The audience laughed louder at that.“You had the pacing, the emotional build-up, the reflection” he gestured lightly, “I was half expecting you to start thanking the academy before the envelope was even opened.”

That earned a bigger reaction.On screen, the camera immediately cut to Y/N.She had already covered her face with one hand, laughing in embarrassment, the other still loosely holding the trophy as she shook her head.

“I didn’t!” she called out, still laughing.

The audience laughed along as the camera lingered on her for a moment longer, capturing the way she tried and failed to compose herself.

The host chuckled, letting the moment breathe before gently raising a hand. “Alright, alright. We’ll let her recover from her very suspiciously well-prepared speech.”

The audience laughed again as Y/N finally lowered her hand from her face.

The energy in the room slowly shifted again, the anticipation returning as the host turned back toward the final cards in his hand.

“And now,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, “we arrive at the final award of the evening.”

The room quieted almost instantly.

“The category that defines the very best of performance this year.”

The screen behind him dimmed completely.

“Best Actor of the Year.”

A ripple went through the audience. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for.

The nominees appeared one by one.

Eren Yeager

A heavy reaction followed immediately. The screen showed fragments of destruction, silence, and a performance that had dominated conversation all year.

Denji

Loud cheers again. Chaos, humor, heartbreak—his name always brought energy.

Yuji Itadori

A strong, emotional reaction. Clips of resilience, struggle, and quiet determination filled the screen.

Gojo Satoru

The screen exploded into a montage of their performances, intense action sequences, quiet emotional moments.

Gojo leaned back slightly in his seat, exhaling through his nose like he was already anticipating what was coming.

Y/N glanced at him. “You look so confident.”

The host smiled. “An incredible lineup of performances,” he said. “Each one defining a different kind of strength, a different kind of storytelling.”

The envelope was lifted. The host opened the envelope.

“Gojo Satoru!”

Y/N looked at him immediately.

The audience laughed as he stepped forward, adjusting his jacket slightly before walking toward the stage. As he passed the front row, he briefly looked back at Y/N. She was still watching him.

He turned forward again and stepped onto the stage. The applause didn’t stop. If anything, it grew louder. And for the third year in a row, Gojo Satoru stood under the spotlight as Best Actor of the Year.

He stood behind the microphone, the trophy resting in one hand. For a few seconds, he said nothing. The applause slowly faded, but the smile on his face remained.

He looked out at the audience. Then down at the trophy. Then back up again. “Okay.”

The audience laughed immediately.

Because somehow, that single word already sounded like Gojo was about to say something he probably shouldn’t.

“I had a speech prepared,” he admitted.

A few surprised reactions moved through the room.

“And by prepared, I mean I wrote three sentences about how grateful I am, and then I decided I was too talented to need one.”

The entire venue burst into laughter.

Gojo nodded seriously. “I know. Very humble of me.”

The laughter grew louder. From her seat, Y/N immediately covered her face with one hand.

He pointed toward her. “See? That reaction right there. She knows.”

The camera immediately cut to Y/N. She shook her head, laughing. “No,” she mouthed.

The audience laughed even harder. Gojo smiled before turning back toward the microphone. “But honestly…” His expression softened slightly.

“This is the third time in a row but for some reason this time this award means a lot.”

The room quieted.

“Because acting is a strange thing. You spend months, sometimes years, trying to understand someone who doesn’t exist. You try to figure out what they’re afraid of, what they want, what they’re willing to lose.”

He looked down briefly at the trophy.

“And sometimes you’re lucky enough to work on a story where everyone involved cares about that as much as you do.”

A small pause.

“This year was one of those times.”

The screen behind him showed moments from the film. His character. Y/N’s character. The two of them standing opposite each other. Fighting. Trusting. Finally choosing each other.

Gojo glanced toward the screen.

“I think what made this film special wasn’t just the action. It wasn’t just the scenes people talked about online.” A small smile. “Although I will say, the rain scene did get talked about a suspicious amount.”

The audience immediately erupted. Y/N looked horrified and Gojo looked completely satisfied with himself.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, pretending to be serious, “I have never seen people become so interested in weather conditions.”

The host laughed from his seat.

Gojo finally looked back toward the audience. “But jokes aside…” His tone changed. “Everyone who worked on this film gave something to it. The crew. The director. The writers. Every single person who stayed late, who repeated scenes until they were perfect, who believed in this story.”

He nodded slightly. “And my cast…” A pause. “They were incredible.”

The camera moved across the cast members in the audience.

“And I think I was especially lucky with my co-star.”

Gojo turned toward Y/N.

“You know, when we started filming, everyone kept asking about the chemistry.” A small smile. “People kept wondering if it would work. If two characters who spent half the movie trying to destroy each other could actually make people believe they cared about each other.”

He looked back toward the audience. “And the answer was yes.”

A beat.

“Mostly because Y/N is ridiculously good at what she does.”

Y/N immediately looked down, smiling.

“She’s talented. She’s hardworking. She’s one of the most dedicated people I’ve worked with.”

He didn’t move away from the microphone right away. The noise in the room was still chaotic, applause mixing with shocked laughter, people still reacting to what he had just casually detonated in front of an entire industry.

But Gojo Satoru just stood there. Like he was waiting for the noise to catch up to him. Then, slowly, he exhaled a small laugh. “Okay,” he said again, softer this time.

He tilted his head slightly, still looking at Y/N. “You look like you want to kill me.”

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. “I do want to kill you.”

That made the audience erupt again.

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”

A pause. Then, his expression shifted again, less teasing now, more reflective. Like the joke had run its course and something else had taken its place.

“But…” he added, quieter. “I think I should say something properly.”

The room slowly began to settle again. Even the laughter faded into anticipation. Y/N’s expression changed too, still flustered, still overwhelmed, but now watching him carefully.

Gojo turned back toward the audience, but his voice softened in a way that made it feel like he wasn’t really speaking to them anymore. “I didn’t plan any of this.” A small, almost self-aware smile. “Which is ironic, because I plan everything like how to annoy people in advance.”

A few chuckles.

“But I didn’t plan her.”

Then he smiled slightly.

“Actually… I think the world can never forget the fact that this all started because she confessed her crush on me during an interview.”

The entire room exploded. Y/N’s head snapped up. “Gojo!” Her expression was pure disbelief.

Gojo just laughed. “What?”

The audience was already laughing. He looked back toward them. “Last year, everyone watched an interview where she was asked who her celebrity crush was and she said my name.”

The crowd cheered. Y/N covered her face again.

“She said it confidently too,” Gojo continued. “No hesitation. No second guessing.”

He shook his head, amused. “I remember seeing it and thinking…”

A dramatic pause.

“She has absolutely no fear.”

The audience laughed. Y/N lowered her hand slightly, smiling despite herself.

“And then we met.”

Gojo’s expression softened. “And honestly?” He looked at her. “I thought she was annoying.”

The crowd laughed.

“But to be fair,” he added, “you also thought I was annoying.”

The room settled again.

“But somewhere along the way…” His voice became quieter. “Somewhere between filming, arguing over scenes, annoying each other, and her telling me that I was ruining emotional moments because I kept laughing…”

He smiled. “I stopped seeing her as someone who admired me.”

A pause.

“And I started seeing her as someone I admired.”

The room became completely silent. Gojo looked down briefly at the trophy. “But more importantly…”

Gojo smiled softly.

“Not the fact that she was talented. Not the fact that she was beautiful. Not the fact that she was my biggest supporter before she even knew me.”

A pause.

“It was the fact that after meeting me, after actually knowing me…”

He laughed quietly.

“She still liked me.”

He looked around the room. “I didn’t expect to meet someone who would change the way I looked at everything. And I definitely didn’t expect the person who once called me her celebrity crush to become the person I want standing beside me for the rest of my life.”

The room went still. Y/N froze. Even the cameras seemed to linger longer.

Gojo looked directly at her. “I love you.”

The reaction was immediate. A wave of gasps, cheers, and applause moved through the venue. Y/N stared at him. Completely speechless.

Gojo smiled. “And before everyone starts asking…”

He glanced toward the cameras. “Yes.”

A beat.

“The rumors are true.”

The entire audience erupted.

“We’re dating.”

More screaming.

“And yes…”

He looked back at Y/N.

“I love her.”

Y/N immediately covered her face.

The host was laughing at this point, unable to hide his reaction.

Gojo turned back toward the microphone. “But honestly…”

His voice softened.

“I don’t care about the rumors anymore. I don’t care about people guessing or making theories or trying to figure out what’s real.”

He looked at Y/N. “Because I know what’s real.”

A pause.

“And I just hope…” His smile became smaller. More genuine. “That she stays by my side for a very long time.”

The room went quiet.

“Hopefully my whole life.”

Gojo’s last words hung in the air. For once, there was no joke afterward. No teasing comment. No attempt to make the moment lighter. Because everyone in that room understood.

The camera immediately cut to Y/N. And for the first time that night, she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes had already filled with tears. She had spent the entire evening trying to keep herself composed. When she won her award. When he praised her. When he embarrassed her by bringing up the interview that started everything.

But this was different. Because she knew Gojo. She knew how much he joked when things mattered too much. She knew how easily he could turn any serious moment into laughter because being vulnerable was never something he did casually.

And yet, standing on that stage, in front of the entire world, he had chosen to be honest.

The cheering softened into something warmer. The kind of silence that only happened when people weren’t waiting for entertainment anymore.

They were witnessing something real. Gojo looked back toward her. And the second he saw her expression, his own changed. The confident smile faded slightly. “Wait.”

A small laugh escaped him. “Oh no.”

The audience immediately laughed through the emotion.

Because somehow, even now, Gojo was still Gojo.

He pointed slightly toward her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N immediately shook her head, wiping beneath her eyes.

Gojo raised his eyebrows. “You are literally crying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She laughed softly despite herself, but that only made the tears fall faster.

And that was when Gojo stopped pretending. The trophy was still in his hand. The microphone was still in front of him. But none of that mattered anymore. He carefully placed the award down on the podium beside him. The entire venue watched as he stepped away from the microphone.

A few people gasped, realizing what he was doing. But he was already walking.

Toward her.

Y/N stood up as he approached, still trying to wipe her tears, still overwhelmed by the fact that this was happening in front of thousands of people.

The second he reached her, he didn’t say anything. He just pulled her into his arms. A hug that looked like he had forgotten anyone else was watching.

Y/N immediately held onto him, burying her face against his shoulder as the entire venue erupted.

Gojo rested his hand gently against the back of her head, smiling softly as he held her.

“You look funny when you cry,” he whispered.

Y/N laughed into his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Gojo gently wiped a tear from her cheek before looking back toward the stage. The trophy he had won was still sitting there. The microphone still waiting. But he didn’t rush back. Because for once, the award wasn’t the most important thing in the room.

He had already won the thing he wanted.

The camera pulled back, capturing them standing together beneath the lights.

The actor of the year.

The actress of the year.

Two people whose story had started with a simple interview answer, turned into rumors, turned into speculation, turned into something neither of them had planned.

And that night, the award wasn’t remembered because Gojo Satoru won Best Actor or Y/N won Best Actress. It was remembered because, after months of wondering, the world finally got its answer.

The rumors were true.

📰 TRENDING ARTICLES

CINEMA BLEND - “From Celebrity Crush to Real-Life Romance: The Story Behind Y/N and Gojo Satoru’s Viral Award Show Confession”

MOVIEVERSE - “Best Actor Meets Best Actress: Gojo Satoru and Y/N’s Shared Spotlight Becomes Cinema’s Favorite Love Story”

TRENDING NOW - “#GojoAndYN Dominates Social Media After Emotional Award Night Reveal”

VARIETY NOW - “The Confession That Changed Everything: Gojo Satoru and Y/N Finally Confirm Their Relationship Live on Stage”

🎞️ FAN EDITS (make sure to play the songs in bg while reading)

🎧 - the alchemy (taylor swift)

The edit opens with Gojo standing on stage, the award in his hand, as he looks toward Y/N and quietly admits that he wants her beside him for the rest of his life. It cuts between their past moments, the interview where she first revealed her celebrity crush, their film promotions, the small glances fans had been analyzing for months, before returning to the award stage. The camera focuses on Y/N trying to hold herself together, her smile slowly breaking as tears begin to form. Then it cuts back to Gojo noticing her expression, his own smile softening as he realizes she’s crying. The music builds as he places his trophy down on the podium and steps away from the microphone. A few quick shots show the audience reacting, everyone watching as he walks across the stage. The edit slows down as Gojo reaches her and pulls her into his arms. The final seconds show Y/N holding onto him, Gojo gently comforting her, and the two of them standing together beneath the award show lights while the entire room applauds.

comments

fan1 THE WAY HE LEFT THE TROPHY BEHIND????? 😭

lowkeylurker the biggest award of the night was HER

editqueen the transition from her crying because she loves him to him running because he loves her I'M DONE

romcomenergy someone explain how this is real life and not a movie scene

ynnation “where’s the trophy?” “he left it on stage” “where’s he going?” “to his girlfriend.” I AM UNWELL

gojofanatic “best actor of the year” and then immediately proving he’s also best boyfriend of the year 💀

ynsupporter I remember when people called her a fangirl for admitting her crush. LOOK AT HER NOW

romcomenergy2 this is the kind of scene people would complain is unrealistic in a movie because “no man would actually do that” AND THEN HE DID

filmlover99 no because imagine being Y/N. You admit your crush publicly, accidentally start rumors, then a year later he says he loves you in front of everyone

gojossmile someone check on that trophy it experienced emotional damage

gojo.satoru

liked by y/n.official, nobara, and 19.9m others gojo.satoru me and mine

comments

y/n.official I love you too

gojossmile slide 2 is actually insane because why does he look proud of it 😭

filmstudent the symbolism of the trophies being the last slide because honestly the award wasn’t the highlight of his night

dramafan someone check on the people who said “they’re just friends” because they are not surviving this week

lastcomment yeah gojo we get it. you have a girlfriend. she’s talented. she’s beautiful. she won an award. YOU CAN STOP NOW.

chaosfan ZERO media training. absolutely none.

ynsupporter I love how public he is about it 😭 bro fears no one

fan3 Gojo Satoru has never heard the words “subtle” and “privacy” in his life

fan7 if they break up I will personally stop believing in love

fan18 “me and mine” yeah okay Shakespeare calm down 😭

fan19 I give it 24 hours before he changes his profile picture to them

a/n - oh to be y/n...

taglist

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[siennayaps]

Married Life with the Head of the Gojo Clan (4k words)

an: There’s no way I wrote tooth rotting fluff…

When you married Satoru Gojo at nineteen, you were much too young to understand that a marriage could alter the entire architecture of a person’s life, much too young to know that the silk sleeves of a bridal kimono could feel heavier than armour when you were walking toward a man whose face you had never seen, and certainly too young to understand that the name you were about to take would follow you everywhere, whispered behind folding screens and spoken carefully in clan corridors, because Satoru Gojo was not merely a man you were being asked to marry, he was the head of the Gojo clan, the strongest sorcerer Japan had known in generations, a man whose reputation had arrived at your doorstep long before he ever did.

You had heard everything about him from relatives who seemed almost eager to frighten you, that he was difficult, that he was severe, that his patience was thin and his expectations were impossible, that even the older members of the clan measured their words around him, that servants hurried when they heard his footsteps and sorcerers who had served him for years still became rigid whenever he entered a room, and, perhaps most humiliatingly, that his beauty had made him something of a notorious playboy before marriage, a man surrounded by women wherever he went, a man who had never needed to ask for affection because it had always been offered to him freely.

Your cousins had told you not to expect miracles from marriage, had sat beside you while your bridal robes were being prepared and spoken of husbands as though infidelity were simply another inconvenience a woman learned to endure, telling you that strong men from powerful clans rarely changed their habits simply because a wife had been placed beside them, that your duty would be to remain graceful, to keep your husband’s household peaceful, to look away from whatever happened outside the walls of your home and never give him a reason to become displeased with you. You had listened because there had never been much else you could do. You had wished, secretly and painfully, that you possessed even a fraction of Maki’s courage, that you could simply turn your back on the clan and walk away from every expectation that had been placed upon you since childhood, but you had no cursed technique, no extraordinary reserves of cursed energy, no weapon in your hands with which to carve your own path through the world, and so you had done what you had always been taught to do, you had lowered your head and stepped forward.

The Gojo estate had been transformed for the wedding, the garden dressed in pale ivory and deep crimson until it resembled something painted by a person who had never known anything ugly, with flowering branches bowing gently over stone pathways, crimson camellias scattered among white blossoms, silk banners stirring beneath the summer breeze and hundreds of small lanterns glowing softly beneath the trees as the afternoon faded toward gold. You remember thinking that it was almost cruel for something so beautiful to surround a girl who was trying not to tremble. Beneath your sleeves, your fingers had been curled tightly around the stems of your flowers, while the immaculate layers of your shiromuku rested heavily around you, the white silk embroidered with delicate branches and blossoms so fine that they seemed almost invisible until the light touched them, revealing threads of gold and silver hidden within the fabric.

Your hair had been arranged carefully, every strand placed exactly where it belonged, adorned with traditional ornaments that caught the light whenever you moved, and beneath the heavy bridal hood you could hear your own heartbeat as clearly as though someone were striking a drum beside your ear. Five steps remained, then four, then three, and with every step you became increasingly aware that the stranger waiting at the end of the garden was about to become your husband. Two steps. One….

You finally raised your eyes, and the first thing you saw was white, a sweep of snowy hair framing a face far too beautiful for the terrifying stories you had been told, and then you saw his eyes, impossibly blue, clear and luminous beneath the afternoon light, fixed upon you with such complete attention that for a moment you forgot the entire gathering existed. Satoru stood in formal black montsuki and hakama, the Gojo crest embroidered upon his clothing, tall enough that the difference between your heights became immediately apparent, broad-shouldered and elegant without seeming to make any effort at all, surrounded by members of his clan and people who had probably known him far longer than you ever would, yet when your eyes met his, he did something that confused you more than anything else could have. He smiled, and then he bowed his head slightly toward you. You almost looked behind yourself to see whether someone else was standing there. Why was the clan head bowing to you? Why was the strongest man at the gathering looking at you as though you were the person he had been waiting for? You did not have an answer, and perhaps you never would, but when he reached for your hand, his fingers closing around yours with an unexpected gentleness, something inside your chest loosened.

His lips touched yours in a brief, warm kiss, barely more than a tender greeting, and yet the sensation stayed with you long after the applause began, long after the congratulations filled the garden, long after someone announced that the union had been formally sealed. You were Mrs. Gojo now, and the frightened nineteen-year-old girl who had walked down that aisle had no idea that the man standing beside her would eventually become the safest place she had ever known.

The strangest part was that you discovered almost immediately that everyone had been telling you the truth and lying to you at the same time, because Satoru Gojo really was strict, really was intimidating, really did possess the sort of presence that could turn an entire room silent without him needing to raise his voice, and when something was genuinely mishandled in the clan, there was a coldness in his expression that made even seasoned sorcerers straighten their backs and reconsider their choices, but none of that man ever followed him home to you.

The moment the doors closed behind him, he became someone else entirely, or perhaps, more accurately, he became the version of himself that nobody else had ever been permitted to see. He could walk out of a meeting after reducing a room full of senior clan members to absolute silence and then find you sitting in the garden with a book, immediately cross the courtyard to press a kiss against your temple and ask whether you had eaten lunch, his voice softening as though the woman in front of him were not merely his wife but the centre around which his entire day had begun to revolve. You began to understand why the household staff would sometimes hide their smiles when they saw him following you from room to room, because the terrifying clan head who supposedly tolerated no weakness had become absurdly dependent upon his wife for the smallest things, refusing to get dressed properly until you had fixed his collar, refusing to leave the bedroom until you had brushed his hair into place, sitting patiently at your vanity every morning while you worked through your skincare routine with the bewildered fascination of a man witnessing forbidden sorcery.

He would watch you cleanse your face, moisturize, apply serum and sunscreen, asking what every little bottle did, and when you explained that sunscreen protected your skin, he would stare at you for several seconds before solemnly asking whether his skin needed protecting too, and then, once you laughed, he would hold out his face with such shameless expectation that you eventually began applying everything to him as well. He never learned the names of half the products, but he knew exactly which one you reached for first, which one you used beneath your eyes, which one you insisted he wear before stepping outside, and if you ever attempted to skip a step because you were in a hurry, he would remind you of it with an expression of such ridiculous satisfaction that you would wonder when your husband had become the one policing your skincare routine.

He was like that about everything, really, helplessly affectionate in a way that would have been almost embarrassing if you did not secretly adore it, because Satoru could command a clan with a single look but could not resist dropping his head into your lap while you were reading, could not walk past you without touching you somehow, could not sit beside you without eventually taking your hand and threading his fingers through yours.

He liked your hands most of all, perhaps because they were the hands that adjusted his collar in the morning, prepared his meals, brushed his hair, straightened his clothes and touched his face when you thought he looked tired. He would sometimes take one of your hands between both of his and kiss your knuckles one after another, lingering over your fingertips with such reverence that you would become shy beneath his attention, and if you asked him what he was doing, he would simply smile and tell you that he was appreciating his wife.

You learned his favorite foods with the same devotion with which he learned yours, memorizing the things he craved after long meetings, the meals he preferred before missions, the sweets he pretended he could take or leave but always finished when they appeared on the table, while he somehow remembered the pastry you liked from a tiny shop you had visited once, the exact tea you preferred, the fruit you always reached for first and the dishes that made you happiest on difficult days.

You would prepare his breakfast according to the kind of day he had ahead of him, making sure he ate properly before meetings even when he claimed he wasn’t hungry, and he would rearrange his entire schedule before he allowed anyone to take breakfast away from you. He could postpone a meeting, reschedule an appointment, make half the clan wait outside his study, but he would not surrender the quiet hour he had claimed as yours, the two of you sitting across from one another while sunlight filtered through the windows, his hand occasionally reaching across the table simply to touch yours.

Sometimes he would arrive home carrying something wrapped in paper and place it beside your plate without explanation, and when you looked at him questioningly he would shrug and say that he had seen it and thought of you, as though remembering his wife’s favorite things were not acts of devotion but ordinary facts he had committed to memory without even trying.

Your marriage settled into these little rituals until they became the language the two of you spoke most fluently. You would choose his clothes for important occasions, laying everything out before he woke, and he would return the favour by leaving your favourite dress hanging beside the wardrobe whenever he wanted to take you somewhere special. You would stand on a small wooden stool in the mornings to arrange his hair because he was too tall for you to reach comfortably, and he would deliberately bend his head lower than necessary just to make you laugh. He would sit through your attempts to paint his nails even though he insisted he had no interest in the process, then stare at his finished fingers with an absurd amount of pride, while every other week he would sit at your feet and carefully paint your toenails in whichever colour you had chosen, concentrating so intensely that you would have to bite back a smile.

On quiet nights, when the household had finally fallen asleep, the two of you would retreat to the bath, the room clouded with warm steam and the surface of the water disturbed only by the slow movement of your bodies as you settled together, your back against his chest while his arms rested loosely around your waist. Sometimes you talked until the water cooled, sometimes you simply sat together in comfortable silence, and sometimes his mouth would find your temple, your cheek, the curve beneath your jaw, each kiss slow enough to make your eyes flutter closed, his voice lowering whenever he told you how beautiful you were.

He knew exactly how to make you blush, murmuring that he loved your hair, that he adored your eyes, that the shape of your lips drove him mad, that he loved the softness of your body against his and the curves that belonged only to him, his affection occasionally slipping into teasing compliments that made you bury your face against his shoulder while he laughed quietly and held you closer. There was always something warm and unhurried about the way he touched you, something that made you feel cherished rather than merely desired, and on nights when the two of you disappeared behind closed doors, the rest of the estate might as well have ceased to exist, because Satoru had a way of making intimacy feel like another conversation between the two of you, another place where he could remind you that you were wanted, treasured and loved.

He was equally tender after, perhaps even more so, because Satoru never seemed satisfied with simply holding you for a moment before turning away to sleep. He would pull you against his chest, tuck the blankets around you, kiss your shoulder and run his fingers slowly through your hair while you drifted toward sleep, and there were nights when you would wake with your body aching from the day only to find him massaging your calves beneath the blankets, his expression sleepy but determined as though your comfort were some task he had personally sworn to complete. When your period came and cramps left you curled beneath the blankets, he became almost unbearably gentle, brushing your hair back with his fingers, pressing warm kisses against your forehead and temples, bringing you water, adjusting the pillows behind your back and staying beside you until you finally fell asleep.

He never treated your pain as an inconvenience. He never made you feel dramatic for needing comfort. If anything, he seemed offended that your body could hurt at all when he could not immediately fix it. When you were angry with him, he became even more affectionate, trailing after you through the house until you finally stopped pretending you could ignore him, apologizing with a sincerity that made it difficult to remain furious, pressing kisses to your cheek, your forehead, the corner of your jaw until your expression softened despite yourself. When you were sad, he did not always ask you to explain.

Sometimes he simply sat beside you and held you, his hand moving slowly along your back while you rested your head against his shoulder, and when you were happy, he wanted to know exactly why, because your happiness had somehow become one of his favorite things to witness.

You soon understood, however, that the man you knew at home had not replaced the clan head everyone feared. Both men existed within him, and you were perhaps the only person privileged enough to see where one ended and the other began. He could enter a meeting with an expression so severe that the room would become silent before he spoke, could dismiss a senior sorcerer with a few clipped sentences and make decisions that altered the future of the clan without hesitation, yet the moment he returned home and found you waiting, that severity would disappear from his face as though someone had turned off a light.

He would ask whether you had eaten, whether you were tired, whether the children had been troublesome, and if anyone had caused you inconvenience during his absence, his entire expression would change again, because there were few things Satoru Gojo hated more than discovering that someone had made his wife unhappy. He would tell you that he could tolerate almost anything from the world, but he would not tolerate anyone treating you carelessly, and although you sometimes teased him for being overprotective, there was something deeply reassuring about knowing that no matter how powerful the people surrounding you became, your husband would always stand between you and anything that threatened your peace.

Travelling with him became one of your favourite things because Satoru refused to make his work entirely separate from his life with you. If he needed to travel for the clan, you often went with him, and if he had several hours of paperwork waiting at the end of the day, you would sit in his study while he worked, sometimes curled sideways across his lap with a book while one of his hands rested around your waist. The first few times, you had worried that you were distracting him, but he had only looked down at you with a smile and told you that he worked better when you were close.

You began to realize that his need for you was not childish dependence but something far more profound, because Satoru had spent most of his life being treated as though his strength meant he required nothing from anyone, and perhaps he had never before been given permission to need another person. With you, he could be tired. He could be spoiled. He could put his head in your lap after a difficult day and close his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair. He could complain about meetings, mock the elders, steal food from your plate, demand kisses when you were trying to work and fall asleep with his face tucked against your neck. He could be the strongest man alive and still allow himself to be held.

Years passed almost without either of you noticing, and the house that had once felt enormous gradually became filled with the sounds of your life together, the clatter of tiny feet racing across wooden floors, children’s laughter echoing through the corridors, little hands tugging at Satoru’s clothes while he attempted to finish a meeting, small voices calling for Mama and Papa from different rooms. Your first child inherited his father’s impossible white hair, your second possessed the same luminous blue eyes, and Satoru became almost comically helpless whenever either of them wanted his attention. The man who could silence a council of elders would abandon an important document the moment one of his children came running into the room, lifting them into his arms and kissing their cheeks until they squealed with laughter.

You would watch from the doorway, one hand resting over the curve of your stomach as your third child grew quietly beneath your heart, and you would sometimes think back to the frightened girl who had walked down the aisle at nineteen, wondering what she would think if she could see you now. She had believed she was being given away to a stranger. She had believed marriage meant obedience, endurance and learning to survive whatever kind of man had been placed beside her. She could never have imagined that the man waiting at the end of that garden would learn every expression on her face, every preference on her tongue, every ache in her body and every quiet wish in her heart, that he would remember the foods she loved, brush her hair when she was hurting, carry her shopping bags, warm her side of the bed, kiss her hands when she was anxious, pull her into his lap while he worked and still look at her years later as though he had somehow been given something precious that he was terrified of taking for granted.

One evening, when the children had finally fallen asleep and the estate had become quiet, you found Satoru sitting on the balcony with his sleeves rolled up, his white hair slightly dishevelled from the day. You slipped behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back, and he immediately covered your hands with his own, turning his head enough to press his lips against your fingers. You asked him what he was thinking, and for once he did not answer with a joke. Instead, he turned around, drew you between his knees and rested his hands gently against your waist, looking at you with that same impossible blue gaze that had frightened you on the day you first met him and now felt more familiar than your own reflection.

He told you that once, before meeting you, he had genuinely believed he would regret the marriage, that he had resented the idea of having the elders decide such an important part of his life, that he had assumed he would spend years wondering what it would have been like to choose someone for himself, but then he smiled and told you that the strangest thing was that the woman they had chosen for him had become the woman he would have chosen anyway. He had never expected to fall in love, he admitted, and certainly never expected love to feel like this, so ordinary in its rituals and yet so enormous that he could not imagine his life without it, and then he kissed your forehead and whispered that if he had been given the chance to choose from the beginning, he would still have chosen you.

Your eyes stung, and you laughed softly because you could never quite understand how the man who had once seemed so distant could now make you cry with a single sentence. You rested your head against his chest while his arms closed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, and somewhere beyond the balcony your children stirred in their sleep, their little voices murmuring from the nursery before becoming quiet again. Your third child moved beneath your hand, and Satoru immediately placed his palm over yours, his expression softening when he felt the faint movement. He bent to kiss your stomach, then your hand, then your cheek, lingering for a moment against your skin before drawing you close again, and you realized that perhaps this was what you had been searching for without knowing how to name it.

Not a grand marriage arranged by two powerful clans, not the prestige of becoming the wife of the strongest sorcerer in Japan, not the beautiful estate or the expensive gifts or the extravagant journeys, but this. His hand finding yours beneath the table. His favorite meal waiting for him after a long day. Your favorite pastry appearing beside your tea without you asking. His head in your lap while you read. Your fingers in his hair while he fell asleep. Warm baths shared after exhausting days. Quiet mornings spent fixing his collar. His lips against your temple when you were half asleep. Your children running through the garden with his white hair and your laughter in their voices. The knowledge that somewhere in this enormous world, there was one person who knew every version of you and loved every one of them.

And perhaps that was why, years after the wedding, when you looked back at the nineteen-year-old girl walking timidly toward the man she believed she should fear, you could not help but smile at the irony of it all, because she had thought she was walking toward the strongest man in the world, when in truth she had been walking toward the man who would spend the rest of his life making sure she never had to be strong alone. She had thought she was becoming the wife of the Gojo clan head, but somewhere between the morning skincare rituals, shared breakfasts, whispered confessions, warm baths, quiet journeys, late-night conversations, stolen kisses, sleepy embraces, children’s laughter and countless ordinary acts of devotion, she had simply become Satoru’s wife, and he had become hers. Loving him had not been the surrender she had once feared.

It had been the most complete kind of home, the kind that followed her wherever she went, the kind she could feel whenever his fingers slipped between hers, the kind that existed in every kiss pressed to her forehead and every sleepy “good morning, wife” whispered against her hair, and when Satoru pulled her closer that night, his palm resting protectively over their unborn child while his lips brushed her temple, you finally understood that marrying the head of the Gojo clan had never been the burden you once imagined it would be.

It had been the most precious gift your life had ever given you.

I was reading a reallyyyyyyy long and angsty fic and my bad that I didn’t read the warnings and tags properly but I’m so heartbroken of the fact that I (Y/N) got cheated again and again in that fic and almost married someone else later (cries) and I started absolutely hating Gojo so I wanted to redeem him for myself by writing this T-T . Gojo my love, I would always be in love with you. Also, this concept and a draft of this was sitting in my docs so I hope you enjoy.

I really can’t stop yapping now can I?

Reblogs appreciated!

— Art credits to @/dolywons & @/pixopix

[reignpage]

Grubby Hands

Smau: in which your child has your phone Warnings: mostly fluff and crack, some sexual language, made the child a daughter idk I forgot sons exists, they're varying ages, and it's kinda linked to the Daddy Daughter series but also not, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna (no special guests)

[tojipie]

toji loves clingy girls <3

you don't have to look outside to know which car's music is shaking the thin foundation of your tiny apartment like a leaf. you slip outside in record time, ignoring the judgmental looks your roommates give you as you haul your weekend bag out the door.

something about this little routine sparks butterflies in your stomach every time. you just can't find it in you to shake the excitement you feel every friday, knowing he'll be out front by the time the sun sets. parked sideways with his hazards on and the roof down, music cranked so high you can feel the bass in your chest.

toji's car is probably the flashiest thing about him. polished, modded, and complete with a sound system that'd put an auditorium to shame. he leans over the door to give you a once over, mouth curled up in that lazy grin that makes your teeth clench.

"get your sweet ass over here." he urges, crooking two fingers towards himself before turning the music down. he pops the driver's side to stand and greet you properly, arms wrapping around your waist as soon as your body meets his.

“i missed you.” you sigh suddenly feeling emotional now that you're wrapped in his arms you can still smell your perfume lingering between the fibers of his hoodie. even through the different layers of soap, and smoke, and his own cologne. you're so relieved to see him that you almost feel like crying.

“fuck, baby.” he laughs softly, petting the crown of your head. you do this every single time, and he absolutely loves it. “you saw me last week, yeah? don't cry.”

you stand there for a while, rocking side to side in the parking lot until your chest loosens and the moisture beading at your eyes is gone. your knuckles ache right in the marrow from how hard you're clinging to him. toji doesn't mind, threading his fingers into the space between yours with a fond laugh and a kiss to your hairline.

[reignpage]

SYNOPSIS:

in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive

warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it) featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

[mochaization]

can you say... dada?

a toji fushiguro fanfiction where he's trying to teach babygumi how to say 'dada' but he just says mama all the time. [from this ask.]

toji fushiguro x wife!reader ft. babygumi.

ⵌ sorry if there are any grammar errors!! im lowk flopping.. oh and art from @/thatsallitchief !

fatherhood had changed Toji in ways he'd never admit.

not dramatically, no. he's still grumpy, still impatient, and still looked permanently annoyed whenever someone interrupted his peace.

but somewhere along the way, he'd become the kind of man who could spent twenty minutes sitting on the floor with his baby doing absolutely nothing. and he somewhat enjoy it.

the apartment was quiet that afternoon.

sun spilled through the windows, warming the carpet where Megumi sat surrounded by his blocks.

Toji lounged on the couch, one arm draped over it, watching his son knock over a tower he'd the last spent 10 minutes building

Toji snorted at the delighted squeal Megumi let out. "Dumbass."

Megumi looked up, his face brightened instantly. then, he abandoned his blocks without hesitation.

he crawled straight into Toji's lap.

"There he is," Toji muttered, scooping him up and balancing him on

Megumi giggled as Toji pressed an absent kiss to the top of his head. the action was so natural it made you smiled at the sight.

Toji noticed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like i'm acting cute or something."

you pointed. "Can you blame me? My husband and baby are over there being all domestic."

Megumi chose that moment to grab a handful of Toji's t-shirt and used it to pull himself upright. Toji immediately steadied him with one hand.

he rolled his eyes. "Domestic. Right."

your laughter filled the room. "See? He's being clingy with you!"

slowly, realization crossed his face. "... shut up." and you laughed once again.

hearing your voice made Megumi twisted around immediately in Toji's lap. the second he spotted you, he lightened up.

you waved at him, making him squeal. he started bouncing excitedly Toji had to tighten his hold before Megumi launched himself to the floor.

"Relax," he sighed. and Megumi completely ignored him.

tiny hands reached toward you, a string of babble followed.

"Hi, sweetie," you smiled at him.

Toji watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. he looked down at his son, then back at you.

a thought occured to him. "I wanna see if he can say dada," he said suddenly.

"Hm?" you hummed, sitting down next to him. "Oh, try it! I wanna see it too!"

Toji steadied Megumi on his lap before tapping a finger against his own chest.

"This is dada. daaa-da," he repeated, tapping his finger again. "Give it a shot, Megs."

Megumi stared up at him. you, on the other hand, already fighting smile.

he blinked once. twice. then his entire face brightened.

"Mama!"

your hand immediately flew to your mouth, trying to hold in your laugh. Toji's face didn't change, which is making it worse for you.

"No," he said slowly. "Dada,"

"Mama!" Megumi giggled.

"No, Megs—"

"Mamamamamama!" he babbles while kicking his feet excitedly.

you lost the battle and laughed. hard. earning a glare from Toji.

"Don't laugh."

"But he's being cute, 'ji!"

"He's doing this on purpose."

Toji looked back down on him.

"Listen carefully," he said, pointing to himself again. "Dada," then he pointed at you. "Mama."

Megumi followed the movement of his finger, good.

Toji nodded encouragingly. "Now, who is this?" he asked.

Megumi stared, you can see the gears in his head working. Toji waited, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. maybe he will get it right this time?

after a moment, Megumi pointed directly at Toji, a triumphant smile spread across his face.

"Mama."

you buried your face into you husband's shoulder, still laughing, while he looked like he'd just been betrayed.

"No, we're not done."

"We absolutely should be done," you giggled.

"We're making progress," he insisted.

"What progress, honey?"

"He pointed at me!"

"And then he called you mama."

Toji ignored you at that.

Megumi, meanwhile, had become fascinated with his dad's hair.

a tiny fist wrapped around his black locks and immediately pulled, making Toji wince.

"Ow," he winced. "You brat."

the little menace looked far too pleased with himself. Toji carefully pried the tiny finger from his hair.

"He's assaulting me."

Megumi reached for his hair again, but this time, Toji caught the attack before it could happen.

"Absolutely not."

the baby pouted, like actually pouted. just for two seconds though.. because something else caught his attention.

his tiny hands moved to Toji's face instead. you watched as Megumi pressed both palm against his father's cheeks, squishing them slightly.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hm?" Toji muttered.

Megumi blinked. then, slowly, he reached forward.

a sloppy baby kiss landed on Toji's cheek.

you melted immediately. "Look how cute he is!"

Toji sighed. a long, defeated sigh. one large hand came up to ruffle Megumi's unruly hair.

"Yeah, yeah."

Megumi beamed again. "Mama."

Toji groaned and dropped his head against the couch. "He's unbelievable."

Megumi, completely unaware of the devastation he'd caused, snuggled into Toji's chest and let out a sleepy yawn. within seconds, his eyelids started drooping.

Toji's arm protectively tightened around him.

you leaned against Toji's shoulder, smiling at the sight.

after everything, Megumi had fallen asleep right where he was the happiest. in his dad's embrace.

he clicked his tongue. "I'm still gonna try to make him call me dada."

you laughed quietly. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Toji rolled his eyes. "You're not helping. at all."

but he didn't stop holding Megumi, not even a second.

© mochaization 2026. DO NOT copy, reconstruct, reupload on any other platform, or feed my works to AI.

[claudialynq]

COWBOY TOJIII

Hello another toji art I promise next one is gojo or geto or maybe them both I don’t know yet!!

[yomiixo]

“I heard you”

The first thing Kageyama noticed was the sound of your voice.

It was faint.

Almost like he was hearing it from underwater.

“Tobio?”

His fingers twitched slightly.

You were there.

Of course you were.

You were always there.

Even when he was being difficult. Even when he answered your questions with a blunt “Whatever.” Even when you complained that he had absolutely no idea how to communicate like a normal person.

Somehow, you were always there.

And right now, your voice sounded terrified.

“Tobio, please wake up…”

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🫐‧₊˚ ⛲️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

It had started earlier that afternoon.

You'd been walking home together when a group of older students started making comments about you.

Kageyama had immediately frowned.

“What did you say?”

You grabbed his sleeve.

“Tobio, don't.”

He looked at you.

“They're annoying you.”

“I know. Just leave it.”

But one of them laughed.

“What's wrong? Can't you speak for yourself?”

Kageyama's expression darkened.

He stepped forward.

“Say it again.”

You knew that look.

“Tobio.”

He didn't listen.

The argument escalated, and eventually it turned into a fight.

Kageyama wasn't fighting because he wanted to prove anything.

He was fighting because they wouldn't stop talking about you.

And somehow, that made you even more worried.

When it was finally over, Kageyama had won—but he hadn't exactly walked away fine.

He'd pushed himself too far.

By the time you found him a little later, he was lying unconscious on the ground.

Your heart dropped.

“Tobio!”

You rushed over.

He was breathing, but he wasn't responding.

Your hands trembled as you carefully helped him sit up enough to check that he was okay.

“Tobio… come on.”

Nothing.

You swallowed hard.

“You idiot…”

Your voice cracked.

“You absolute idiot.”

You carefully cleaned up the small cuts and bruises you could, making sure he was comfortable while waiting for help.

But you couldn't stop looking at him.

You'd always known you cared about Kageyama.

You just hadn't realized how much until now.

You gently moved a strand of hair away from his face.

“Why would you do that for me?”

Your eyes started watering.

“You didn't have to.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“You're so stupid sometimes.”

Kageyama didn't move.

And suddenly, all the feelings you'd been keeping hidden came rushing out.

“I was so scared.”

Your voice became quieter.

“I thought something had happened to you and…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.”

Silence.

You looked down at him.

“I like you, Tobio.”

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Your face burned.

“I really, really like you.”

You laughed nervously through your tears.

“And I know you're probably going to make some stupid face when you wake up and pretend you didn't hear that, but…”

You carefully held his hand.

“I just needed you to know.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing.

Then—

“…I heard you.”

You froze.

Your eyes widened.

“T-Tobio?!”

Kageyama's eyes slowly opened.

He looked exhausted.

Confused.

And incredibly embarrassed.

His face was already turning red.

“You…”

He swallowed.

“You said you liked me.”

You immediately looked away.

“I thought you were unconscious!”

“I was.”

“Then how did you hear me?!”

“I don't know.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of you knew what to say.

Kageyama looked away first.

His ears were bright red.

“…I like you too.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“What?”

He frowned, as if frustrated that he had to repeat himself.

“I said I like you.”

“You—”

“I've liked you for a while.”

Your mouth fell open.

Kageyama looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Don't make that face.”

“What face?!”

“That one.”

“You're the one who just confessed!”

“I know.”

“And you're acting like I did something wrong!”

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!”

You couldn't help it.

You laughed.

A genuine, relieved laugh.

Kageyama stared at you for a moment before the smallest smile appeared on his face.

It was subtle.

Barely there.

But you knew him well enough to notice.

“You're smiling,” you whispered.

“No, I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“You literally are.”

“Shut up.”

You laughed again.

And for the first time that day, Kageyama relaxed.

He gently squeezed your hand.

You looked down.

Then back at him.

Neither of you said anything.

You didn't need to.

After everything that had happened, simply knowing he was okay was enough.

Kageyama shifted slightly closer.

You noticed.

He noticed that you noticed.

Both of you immediately looked away.

The silence became painfully awkward.

Then Kageyama quietly asked,

“…Can I?”

You blinked.

“Can you what?”

He stared at you for a second before his face turned even redder.

“You know.”

“Oh.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“Oh.”

Neither of you moved for a moment.

Then, very slowly, you leaned closer.

Kageyama met you halfway.

The kiss was brief.

Soft.

Almost hesitant.

The second it ended, you both pulled back.

Kageyama looked completely stunned.

You covered your face with your hands.

“Oh my gosh.”

His ears were bright red.

“…That was embarrassing.”

“You're the one who asked!”

“I know.”

“You were shaking.”

“So were you!”

You peeked through your fingers.

He was looking away, clearly trying to hide how flustered he was.

Then his hand found yours again.

His fingers slipped between yours.

This time, neither of you pulled away.

Kageyama leaned his head gently against your shoulder.

You smiled.

After everything, he was finally safe.

And somehow, after months of hiding what you both felt, you were sitting there together, hand in hand, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

Kageyama closed his eyes.

“…Stay.”

You looked down at him.

“I wasn't planning on leaving.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

“Good.”

And that was all he said.

But somehow, it was enough.

You rested your head gently against his.

For once, Kageyama wasn't thinking about volleyball.

He wasn't thinking about winning.

He wasn't thinking about being the best.

He was just thinking about you.

And, judging by the tiny smile on his face, he was perfectly happy with that.

My frikin baby omgaashhh I LOVE HIM

guyssss give recs you want and I’ll do them okayyy 😉😉😉😉

[yomiixo]

a second before midnight

Hinata Shoyo × Reader

The apartment had somehow become warmer as the evening went on.

Maybe it was because the heater had been running for hours.

Maybe it was because the kitchen was still carrying the smell of freshly baked cookies that had come out slightly misshapen after Hinata insisted they "had personality."

Or maybe it was simply because every room seemed brighter when it was filled with laughter.

The living room looked lived in.

A blanket had been abandoned halfway off the sofa after the two of you had argued over who was stealing it first. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sat forgotten on the coffee table, rings of marshmallow fluff clinging stubbornly to the inside. Fairy lights draped lazily across the bookshelf cast a warm golden glow over everything, making the room feel softer around the edges.

Outside, snow drifted past the apartment windows in slow, lazy flakes.

Inside, the television played some over-the-top New Year's special neither of you had really been paying attention to.

You were too busy trying—and failing—not to laugh.

"No, no," you wheezed, holding your stomach. "You absolutely did not think reindeer were a type of deer with naturally glowing noses."

Hinata pointed dramatically from his spot on the floor.

"I was seven!"

"You were ten."

"...Details."

"They're very important details."

He groaned loudly, flopping backwards until he lay spread out across the rug like he'd been defeated in battle.

"You remember everything embarrassing I've ever said."

"You make it easy."

"Oh, you're evil."

"I'm realistic."

He narrowed his eyes at you before reaching for one of the throw pillows.

You saw it coming half a second too late.

"Hinata—"

The pillow hit you square in the face.

Silence.

Then—

"Oh, you're dead."

The next few minutes dissolved into chaos.

Pillows flew across the room.

The blanket somehow became a weapon.

At one point Hinata attempted to dodge behind the sofa, only to trip over absolutely nothing and land face-first into the cushions while laughing so hard he couldn't even get back up.

You laughed until your ribs hurt.

Until tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

Until you both eventually gave up and collapsed wherever you happened to fall.

Your breathing slowly settled.

The apartment grew quiet again, save for the distant television and the occasional crackle from the little candle burning on the coffee table.

Hinata lay on the floor, one arm thrown over his eyes dramatically.

"I think..."

He took an exaggerated breath.

"...you broke my spirit."

"I barely touched you."

"My spirit is fragile."

"I noticed."

"You should apologise."

"You should stop being dramatic."

"...Impossible."

You smiled to yourself.

Somehow, even silence with him never felt empty.

It was comfortable.

The kind that didn't ask either of you to fill every second with conversation.

The snow continued falling outside.

Someone in another apartment laughed.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly.

11:27 p.m.

Still time before midnight.

You tucked your legs beneath the oversized blanket, absentmindedly staring out at the city lights sparkling below.

"They're probably all having countdown parties," you murmured.

"Hm?"

"The people outside."

Hinata rolled onto his side to look at you.

"They're probably all dressed up."

"Probably."

"Taking pictures."

"Mhm."

"Kissing people at midnight."

...

The words left your mouth so casually that you almost didn't think about them.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips, though it carried something quieter underneath.

"I've actually never had a New Year's kiss before."

The sentence disappeared into the room almost as soon as you'd spoken it.

You weren't embarrassed exactly.

It was just...

One of those things.

Every year you'd see videos online of couples counting down together. Fireworks exploding across the sky. Someone laughing into someone else's shoulder before the clock struck twelve.

It always looked so...

Warm.

Not because you desperately wanted the kiss itself.

More because it seemed like such a simple little tradition.

A tiny promise that maybe the new year wouldn't be so lonely.

You laughed softly to yourself.

"Kind of cheesy when you think about it."

Hinata didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked at you.

Really looked at you.

Your eyes were still fixed on the snowfall outside, completely unaware of the way his expression softened.

The corners of his smile became gentler.

His heart gave one ridiculously obvious thump.

He'd never tell you that.

Not in a million years.

"...I don't think it's cheesy," he said quietly.

You turned back to him.

"No?"

He shook his head.

"I think..."

A tiny shrug.

"...it's nice."

You smiled.

"Yeah."

Neither of you said anything else.

The conversation drifted away as naturally as the snow outside.

Soon you were laughing again over another ridiculous television segment, debating which snack to open next and arguing over whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

But every now and then...

Hinata found himself glancing toward the clock.

11:41.

11:48.

11:53.

His fingers drummed absentmindedly against his mug.

He wasn't hearing half of what the television host was saying anymore.

Instead, one sentence echoed in his head.

"I've actually never had a New Year's kiss before."

It settled somewhere warm inside his chest.

Not with pressure.

Not because he thought he had to.

But because...

If there was anyone he wanted to spend the very first second of a new year with—

It was you.

By 11:58, the apartment lights had been switched off except for the fairy lights and the television. The room glowed in soft gold and blue, reflecting in the window beside you until your own reflections looked like they were standing among the city lights.

Outside, distant fireworks had already begun to bloom on the horizon.

You wandered over to the balcony doors, pressing your palm lightly against the cool glass.

"They're starting..."

Hinata joined you a second later, standing close enough that your shoulders brushed.

Neither of you moved away.

The countdown on the television began.

Ten...

The crowd on-screen erupted with excitement.

Nine...

Somewhere below, strangers shouted into the night.

Eight...

Your breath fogged the cold glass.

Seven...

Hinata looked at you instead of the television.

Your eyes were fixed on the fireworks.

The colours danced across your face in tiny flashes of pink, gold, and blue.

You looked...

Beautiful.

Not in some dramatic, movie-like way.

In the quiet way he'd come to notice over months of knowing you.

The way your nose scrunched when you laughed.

The way your eyes sparkled whenever you got excited over the smallest things.

The way you always made room for him beside you without thinking.

The way being with you felt easy.

Six...

His pulse quickened.

Five...

Would this ruin everything?

Four...

Or would you smile?

Three...

He took one careful step closer.

Close enough that your sleeves brushed.

You finally looked at him.

"Hinata?"

He smiled—that bright, earnest smile that had always worn his heart on its sleeve.

"Happy New Year," he whispered, even though it wasn't quite time yet.

You blinked, laughing softly.

"It's still—"

Two...

The fireworks exploded brighter than ever.

One...

The world counted together.

Happy New Year!

In that exact heartbeat—

Before you could even process it—

Hinata reached up with surprising gentleness, cupping your cheek with a hand still slightly warm from the mug he'd been holding.

His thumb brushed lightly beneath your eye.

"So..." he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath the cheers outside, "...I thought maybe you shouldn't have to start another year without one."

And then he leaned in.

The kiss was soft.

Careful.

A question rather than a certainty.

Warm despite the cold window at your back.

It lasted only a few seconds, but somehow it made the fireworks, the shouting crowds, the television countdown—everything else—fade into the background.

When he pulled away, the tips of his ears were bright red.

"So..." he said with a nervous little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "...guess that's not true anymore."

For one perfectly still moment, you simply stared at him.

Then the biggest smile he'd ever seen spread across your face.

You laughed—that beautiful, unstoppable laugh he'd fallen in love with long before he'd admitted it to himself—and before he could wonder if he'd made the wrong choice, you reached up, caught the front of his hoodie, and pulled him back into another kiss.

This one wasn't shy.

It was full of giggles against each other's lips, noses bumping, foreheads touching when you finally pulled apart.

Outside, fireworks painted the night sky.

Inside, wrapped in fairy lights and warmth and the smell of hot chocolate, it felt like the new year had arrived exactly the way it was supposed to.

With laughter.

With hope.

And with the very first kiss that neither of you would ever forget.

[wifegideonnav]

gonna be honest i don’t know how many more ‘enter the 6 digit code we sent to your phone’s i got left in me

[2colde]

how it genuinely feels

[f-tality0]

Driving lessons

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

🌴Your Body Is Paradise🌴

🌴Pairing: Married!Poly!KiriBaku x Married!Reader 

🌴Synopsis: When you decide to take a vacation to an island resort with your husband, you think that this is the perfect opportunity to rekindle the lost spark and romance in your relationship. But when your hubby doesn’t exceed your expectations, or even attempt to fulfill them, you start to think that this was a horrible idea…until you meet the sexy celebrity married couple at the pool who are interested in getting to know you on a more personal level and showing you the wonderful vacation that your husband won’t…and can’t.

🌴Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Reader is Black and Fem; Pro!KiriBaku (Late 20s-30s); Cheating/Infidelity; Baecation; Strangers to Lovers; Alcohol Use; Drunk Sëx (but still consensual); Threesome; Dual Blowjob; Dual Cunnilingus/Analingus; Anal Play; Gaping; Double Penetration; PIV; Anal Sex; Hubby Calls While Y'all Fucking teehee; Slutification; Cock Drunk!Reader; Pussy Drunk!Kiribaku; Creampie/Analpie; Aftercare; Dom!Kiribaku x sub!Reader; Reader Cums 3x

🌴Word Count: 12.9k

🌴Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

🌴Writer's Note: I got this little idea after I came back from a cruise vacation & thought about getting dicked down the whole time lmaoo. This fic came out last summer & I wanted to revise it for the new summer era! I hope y'all enjoy it! <3 -love, Jazz

🌴Credits: Kiribaku Fan art credit goes to syrinide! Follow them on Twitter HERE! Dividers made by @feldiesgraphics & @dollywons!

You thought that experiencing sex on vacation would be a lot hotter.

You thought that smelling the sea breeze and hearing the call of seagulls would make for a sexy ambience to ignite that spark. 

But lying beneath your panting, sweating husband as he ruts into you from behind doesn’t make even the least bit of your pussy twitch. While the foreplay started off good, it started during a moment where you were just chilling, reading a book, kind of hungry, and not in the mood for sex…but of course, your husband can’t read the room and is always thinking with his dick. 

So when he proceeds to speed up and repeat that “oh, yeah, oh, yeah” mantra that he does when he gets close, you lie there on your tummy and let it happen, just letting him enjoy it.

You feel like you owe him this. After all, you did take him away from his job and responsibilities as a businessman for a seven-day trip at a resort along the Caribbean sea. Maybe lackluster sex isn’t too bad. Not like other things in your marriage. 

And you are reminded of those things when you feel him pull out and spray his cum on your ass, stilling his hips and letting out a loud grunt as he grips your ass so tight that you wince with pain. When he finally lets out a sigh of relief, he stares down at you, a lazy smile on his face. “Did you cum?” he asks. You nod though you certainly didn’t. But you are the dutiful wife, moaning when you should and pumping up his ego. 

Satisfied, your hubby gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and rolls off of you, leaving you lying naked on the pristinely white sheets of your king-sized bed. You purposely ordered a suite for the two of you for this trip, complete with sofa bed, a vanity for your makeup, a mini-bar, and a balcony overlooking the beach. Perfect for a “baection” with your man to get your marriage back on track and spend time together…or so you thought. 

Once again, reality smacks you in the face when he moves to the edge of the bed naked, showing off his toned body. He truly is a beautiful specimen, but if any woman got him in the bedroom now, they would dumb his ass before he could bust a nut.

The sex while you were dating was quite good, but now? He barely takes the time to make you cum. One could argue that it’s because of his demanding career, but you always take the time to make him “arrive” when you are intimate. 

But him? Crickets. Not to mention no consideration for your pleasure, no care, and no spark. You can’t remember the last time he even attempted to make you cum!

And then…there is the worse part. You turn over on your side as he slides on his robe. “You’re not gonna cuddle?” you disappointedly ask. Your husband pulls a face like he doesn’t believe you’re serious. “You know I don’t cuddle after sex, Y/N. It’s nasty.” 

You scowl at him. He didn’t used to be like this at all. He used to snuggle with you afterwards. Now after sex he is more concerned about cumming and then cleaning up, barely regarding you as his wife. “And cumming on my ass isn’t?” you ask, your tone snipped. He pauses from tying his robe and grimaces. “Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to join me, but not with that attitude.” 

You rise from your position and get under the covers, the cool sheets feeling like silk against your naked body. “I’m sorry, I just…we never cuddle anymore. I thought this trip would change that.”

Your husband only sighs as if you pouring your heart out to him is more of an inconvenience to his shower than not. “We can cuddle after my shower, Y/N. Don’t be so impatient.” 

And then he is gone, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving you alone to feel hurt. And then that hurt stews into irritation. When you hear the water running, it steams just as your anger does.

You start to wonder what you did any of this for. Stressing over the best resorts and just to appease a husband who could care less about the waning romance in your marriage? Four years together, one year married, and all of it hanging on a thin thread because he refuses counseling, therapy, or to talk about your issues. 

Your anger pushes you to rise from the prison of the bed, wipe your hubby’s spunk off your ass with some tissues, and get dressed in your brand new bikini. It is a vibrant yellow that makes your brown skin pop and makes your ass look absolutely delectable. It is among one of the pieces of sexy vacation outfits that you brought along for this vacation. After dressing, you begin packing your beach bag, barely turning around when you hear the shower shut off and footsteps approach. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” your husband asks as if he didn’t just reject you. You don’t turn around as you toss sun tan oil and a romance book in your bag. “I’m going to the pool,” you snippily reply. “Alone.” 

Your husband is silent, watching you pack. “But I thought we were gonna cuddle.” You scoff, finally turning to face him dripping wet in his towel. “Well, we could’ve, but you wanted to shower first after fucking me when I told you about three times that I wasn’t in the mood.” 

You watch his face change from confusion to irritation. Yet another fight and you’ve only been on this ship for a day! “So now I’m the bad guy now?” he scoffs. “You always do this, Y/N. You always wanna twist shit around on me when you don’t get your way!” 

You tilt your head at him, glaring daggers. “When I don’t get my way?” you parrot, enraged.

You could smack him with the sunscreen you’re holding gripped in your hand. “All I did was ask for a fucking snuggle with my husband who only shows me affection when he’s got his dick in me.” 

“That isn’t true!” he barks. You scoffingly laugh. “Oh, it’s not? I had to beg you to come on this vacation just to try to re-spark our romance…and you didn’t even wanna do that!”

You had been planning your introduction to the idea for months, praying that he would agree. He only agreed when you mentioned that you would pay for it and all he had to do was take off for the week. Thank God for your high-paying job and you saving up money for this trip. 

Your husband stands before you now, fuming and fumbling for something to say. You continue to pack until completion and grab your wedges and key card before putting on your sunglasses. “I’ll be back up later,” you grumble. “Don’t wait up.” And you leave him standing in his towel, shutting the hotel door behind you before venturing off to the pool for a cool dip and a cool drink. 

Your pool time to decompress proves to be a good plan. Deciding that the pool is too crowded for your liking, you head to the adults-only area complete with two bars, hot tubs, and ocean views galore. You go to the bar to order yourself a pretty and strong cocktail to take the last ten minutes out of your head.

As you sip on your drink with its pineapple and orange wedges on the glass, your phone rings in your bag. You fish it out, grinning as your friend’s name flashes across the screen. Thank God for the wi-fi package. “Heeeey, babes!” she shouts when you answer. Hearing her voice makes you homesick instantly. “Hey, babes,” you greet. “God, am I happy to hear from you.” 

“I guess the plan isn’t going well,” she replies. “I was gonna ask how your trip is.” 

You cross your legs on the stool, showing off your legs and skin glowing with sun tan oil for all to see. “Oh, I’m loving it, but not being in the same room with a man who won’t even cuddle me after fucking me.” You have admitted some things to your friend about your romance issues in your marriage, but not this. 

“Daaamn, it’s like that?!” she gasps. “Girl, you should've been divorced that loser! I don’t know why you’re even bothering with this BS. You’ve only been married for a year!” 

She’s been telling you this since you got married, reluctantly becoming your maid of honor despite her clear disdain for your fiancé. “But we’ve been together for four,” you remind her. “I can’t just walk away from that. When things are tough in a long term relationship, you try to work ‘em out!” 

‘Until you can’t anymore,’ a little voice in your head remarks. ‘And maybe you’ve reached that limit.’ You wipe the thought away with another sip of your cocktail, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of rum and guava fruit. 

“Yes, but why bother if you’re not happy?” your friend asks. “I mean, are you doing any of this because of you or him?” 

You stop short, thinking about this. Is any of this for you anymore? What about your happiness? Your feelings? “This is for both of us,” you finally reply. “I can’t go on like this anymore. No touching, kissing, or romance…” 

Lately, it’s been happening more since your husband’s promotion as you expressed to your friend months before. The dates have been dwindling, the connection is fading, and the sex is less than enjoyable. You aren’t happy, but you aren’t willing to give up either. 

“How’s he been on the trip?” your friend asks. You use your straw to stir the ice around in your glass. “Just not paying much attention to me, drinking a lot…looking at other women.”

You wince as your friend begins to explode with rage. “EXCUSE ME?!” she bellows. “Oh, heeeell no! You’re gonna have to get even, girl. If he’s gonna do what he wants on this trip, so will you.” 

“What does that mean?” you ask, not entirely sure you want to know the answer. She is happy to elaborate regardless: “It means finding the hottest guy there and getting some vacay dick, no strings attached.” 

You nearly choke on the bit of pineapple wedge you bite into. “I can’t cheat on my husband!” you hiss into the phone. “What kinda girl do you think I am?!” 

Your friend huffs in response. “Fine, then just flirt. Y/N, this is about your enjoyment too! You’re there for another six days, so why not make the most of it with an international stud?” 

You can’t believe you're hearing this. You must have heatstroke. “You’re insane,” you scoff. “I can’t just pick some random guy and—“ You cut yourself off reaching across the bar for a napkin only for your hand to brush against someone else’s. 

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp. “I wasn’t paying any….” Your words immediately die when you catch a glimpse of the red-hot stud sitting next to you at the bar. Literally, his long hair is red-hot, cascading down to his broad shoulders and chest exposed through the few unbuttoned buttons to his Hawaiian top. He is a big guy, at least six-foot something and all muscle as he sits in the stool next to you, bigger than you even while sitting down.

Your eyes trail down to his red trunks hanging loosely from his muscular thighs and calves right down to his big feet in his open-toe slides. Your eyes lecherously slide back up to his beefy arms, one of them inked with a sleeve, and the sharp, toothy smile he gives you. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies, his crimson eyes kind, sparkling in the summer sun. “It’s my bad. I was actually gonna ask what drink that was.” You are so gobsmacked by this sexy stranger than you barely hear your friend screaming at you. “Y/N?!” she screeches. “Who is that?! Is he hot?!” 

“Gottagocallyoulaterloveyabye,” you say in a rush before hanging up. The red-hot stranger continues to smile, making you sweat more than the hot rays above. “U-Uh, it’s called a Sex On The Beach.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach curl. Even his laugh is sexy! “Interesting drink name,” he chuckles. “I heard they have a Cherry Popper and somethin’ called a Pink Pussy here too. Bakugou likes those.” 

“Bakugou?” you question. He tuts, smacking himself on the forehead with a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry; my husband.” 

Your eyes glide down to the gold band on one of his thick ring fingers. Of course, he’s married. “Oh,” you sigh, wilting in disappointment…but why? You’re married! “I’ll have to try those ones. My husband ain’t a fan of cocktails like that; he calls them girly.” 

You may as well let the stranger know that you’re married too. It’s only right…right? “Girly or not, they’re still hella good!” he laughs. “I know me and my man don’t care. I’m Kirishima, by the way.” He sticks one of his big, calloused, scarred hands out for a shake. You ignore the way your pulse jumps as your palm connects with his. 

Kirishima? Where have you heard that name before? Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, are you—“ 

“Red Riot?” he chuckles. “Just don’t blow my cover. I think the Hawaiian shirt is working.” You are shocked. You’ve never met a celebrity before, let alone a pro hero. You’re not used to seeing him without his gear either! 

“It’s a pleasure, Red Riot,” you whisper, once again shaking his hand. It’s really just an excuse to feel his calloused palm gripped in yours again. “So you guys are here on a much-needed vacation?” you ask, sipping on your drink.

“Emphasis on ‘much-needed’,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus it’s our fifth year wedding anniversary and we wanted to celebrate. We’ve been together since our UA days.” 

High school sweethearts?! You could melt right here on your stool. “That’s so sweet!” you coo, raising your glass to him. “Well, happy anniversary to the both of you.” The redheaded hunk smiles, blinding you. “Well, thank you…uh…” 

“Y/N,” you introduce. “L/N.” The pro’s raises his sexy, pierced brow in interest. “Full government?” he chuckles. “Ejirou Kirishima then. My friends call me—“ 

“Oi, shitty hair!” someone barks from the lounge chairs. “What’s the hold up?! You went to get drinks five minutes ago!” You turn your head to the rough n’ gruff-sounding voice, nearly dropping your drink at the sight of the platinum blonde stud standing before you. 

He is ALL man, just as his husband is: big, tall, all muscle, and all tattoos. In opposition to his husband, Dynamight has two sleeves plus a large dragon tattoo snaking around his left slave. Its tail trails up to his orange swim trunks that match the black skull tank top he wears. 

Despite the Raybans covering his eyes, you can tell his eyes are as intense as his handsome face etched in seriousness is. The sun glows against his blonde undercut and the piercings glinting in his ears. His plump bottom lip and brow are pierced as well, definitely exposing you for your fetish. 

The redhead turns to you with a smirk. “It’s Kiri, actually,” he whispers. He then rises to greet his husband, smiling extra big. “Sorry, babe; I got caught up talkin’ to my new friend here. Y/N, this is my husband Katsuki Bakugou.” 

When Bakugou finally stops in front of you, you have to use every ounce of energy to appear normal while sitting with the two mountain-sized pros while they stand over you. Bakugou takes his shades off, putting them on his forehead. Those vermillion eyes are like lasers, intensified by Bakugou’s brooding look your way. His stare is hotter than the damn sun and you lose your cool. 

“N-Nice to meet you,” you stammer. You stick your hand out for a shake. Bakugou stares at it for a brief moment before he takes it in his inked hand. “Likewise. You tryin’ to steal my husband from me?” His expression is so steely that you nearly miss the quirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“He’s joking,” Kiri chuckles, nudging Bakugou in the arm. “Don’t scare the poor lady! I was just telling Y/N here that we’re on our anniversary trip.” Bakugou rolls his eyes but his cheeks are flushed pink. “Ya might as well tell it to everybody on this fuckin’ island.” 

Kiri laughs, pressing a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “So are you here on your own anniversary trip?” the redhead curiously asks. You mentioned your hubby.” 

“Oh, uh…” You freeze, thinking of something to answer with. “Maybe with friends?” Kiri adds. “Family? Or a solo traveler? Which would be cool too!” 

“Jesus, shitty hair, what’s with the third degree?” Bakugou criticizes, glaring at his husband through his shades. The redhead goes red in the face, somehow making himself look sexier. “Sorry. I might’ve had too much before this.” 

“I’m here with my husband,” you finally answer. “Nothing too special.” You take a sip of your drink to cool yourself down and give yourself some liquid courage. Discussing your marriage woes with strangers isn’t ideal for a starter convo for you, yet here you are. The couple look confused and quite perturbed at your statement. “What does that mean?” Bakugou asks, raising a pierced brow at you. 

You shrug, feeling hot all over and the breeze from the ocean provides no comfort. You shouldn’t have talked. “Just that it’s not an anniversary trip or a honeymoon. It was my idea for a vacation.” You almost say that the entire trip came out of your pocket as well. “We’ve been together for four years, married for one.” 

“Well, that’s somethin’ to celebrate!” Kiri exclaims, obviously trying to lighten things up. “And if you’re thinkin’ up fun trips like this, he should feel lucky to have you.” The genuine nature of his tone and the kindness in his eyes nearly make you fold. “You wouldn’t be the first to think that,” you bashfully reply, “but thank you.” 

Kiri looks like he wants to say more but a tray of shot glasses wedged with lime and filled with clear liquid stops him short. “Shots on the house for the happy couple?” the bartender asks with a grin. When he motions to you with the tray, you realize with horror what he’s referring to. “O-Oh, we’re not—“ 

“Don’t be so coy, honey,” Kiri laughs, giving you a wink. “Thanks, sir! We’d love free shots!” He takes the tray from the bartender with no problem and gives him a thankful grin. You stare at him, wondering what in the world just happened and if you’re possibly hallucinating. Bakugou nudges your hip with his, smirking. “Don’t think nothin’ of it. You looked like you needed some tequila.” 

He passes you a shot, the strong aroma nearly singeing your nostril hairs. An open invitation. After all, how often do you find yourself drinking with celebrities? Let alone pro heroes? And it is a vacation. “I guess I do,” you giggle, taking the shot from his thick fingers. You ignore the way your stomach flip flops as your fingertips brush his. “Cheers then!” 

Bakugou’s eyes are full of mirth and interest. “To what?” he asks. You give him a secretive smile, placing a lime wedge in your mouth and sucking on it. You think the couple’s eyes flitting down to your mouth is just a trick of the sun. “To an unforgettable trip,” you respond. 

Clink! 

The three of you clink shots and down them in unison, laughing when Kiri coughs his lungs out. For the next fifteen minutes or so while Kiri orders cocktails for himself and Bakugou, you chat. 

You learn about Musutafu, their home in Japan, is riddled with even more pro heroes than in the U.S. 

You learn about Kiri’s love for spicy foods and Bakugou’s secret obsession with the manga series 

‘A Sign of Affection’ that you both gush over. You tell them about your job and daily life; your likes and dislikes; your relationship with your husband. 

You notice the way Kiri keeps a hand on Bakugou’s knee while sitting to stop him from bouncing it so much. Your eyes catch the way Bakugou’s fingers toy with the hair at the nape of Kiri’s neck. Little things like this make you envious. Not just of them, but of the fact that you can’t join in such PDA. Your husband would never hear of it. 

By the time the convo comes to an end, you feel that buzz and rush of warmth from your drink and three tequila shots. And that recklessness that causes you to eye the couple’s crotches too much.

You should lay down before you do something you’ll regret. “You two should probably head back to your seats,” you tell the couple. “That family with the five kids looks awfully desperate for a chair.” You nod at the stressed-looking couple hollering at their kids to pick up their beach towels and stop fighting. 

Bakugou grumbles something, already getting up to lay claim on their chairs. “Well, maybe we’ll see you around again,” Kiri says with a smile. “Me and Bakugou are thinkin’ of going to Club Paradise. You should bring your man along.” You blink in confusion before your brain, fuzzy from the tequila and the couples’ mixed cologne, realizes that he means the resort’s nightclub. 

“Or just bring yourself,” Bakugou cuts in, not even caring how this suggestion sounds. “Sounds like your man is a wet blanket…no offense.” He shrugs passively though he doesn’t look like he’s that apologetic.

You’re sure the tipsy details you provided to them about your hubby doesn’t help: he doesn’t dance, he hates going out, and he’s all about work. “It’s fine,” you chuckle. “He might be interested, but we’ll see. I’ll give it some thought.” 

“You should,” Kiri replies, unintentionally flexing as he stretches. You do your best to not stare. “A good drink and a dance always helps to…ease the tension.” Your ears perk at the way he says the last three words: seductive. Suggestive. A hot promise lying between the lines. If he meant it to come off this way, he succeeded because your body instantly responds. 

“Especially with good company, I’m sure,” you say, shocking yourself by flirting back. Even more so with the way you stare straight at Kiri and Bakugou while you say it, memorizing their eye color for later. The two look like they want to say more to you, but they are interrupted by two pineapples being shoved at them. 

“For Mr. Kirishima?” the bartender calls. Their drinks are done which means they are leaving now. You feel a pang of disappointment, but it ebbs somewhat when Kiri shoots you a smile. “See ya around, Y/N,” he says before walking off with his husband. As they leave, Bakugou turns back to look at you, his crimson eyes playing with you over the rim of his shades. 

When you turn around to order a cool drink of water (because you desperately need it), your bikini bottoms feel sticky and you’re bothered. Extremely bothered. Especially when you sense that the couple is still eyeing you down from the back. Your nipples tingle beneath your bikini top and everything feels too stimulating. You haven’t had any guy make you feel this horny in years, let alone your husband! 

Maybe you will take your friend’s advice tonight. There is no shame in flirting and having a little fun that doesn’t involve infidelity. Luckily for you, your husband has the same idea that the hot couple did: a night at Paradise.

When you go back upstairs for a shower and a nap, he peppers you in apologetic kisses. “I thought a lot about what you said earlier and I wanna make it up to you. Tonight will just be about you and me.” You believe him when he says this, trusting his word….until you actually get there. 

After a shower, a nap, and some dinner at the buffet, you dress in your vacation clubbing finest: a short, backless dress that ties at the neck and some strapped gold heels with your white toes out. You leave your braids down, spray some fruity body mist on your skin, slather your body in shimmery oil, and you feel delicious as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

You wonder, briefly, if the sexy couple you met earlier will think so too. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t looking forward to seeing them tonight if they come. It’s the only thing worth staying for as you watch your drunk husband flirt with an Amazonian woman with the skin-tight dress, spray tan, and veneers right in your face. You can’t even enjoy the beautiful, tropical ambience or the music because of how irritated you are. 

First, your husband decided to pre-game by ordering a whiskey with dinner. Now he’s here barely spending time with you when you look like a whole snack and disrespecting you?! He wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t pay for the trip!

The woman gives a raucous laugh at something he says, her teeth reminding you of a camel’s. “I can’t believe you live so close to me! What’s it like there? Are the guys as handsome as you?” 

Your husband grins, sloppy and proud. You decide you’ve had enough and stroll up to them, putting a possessive hand on his shoulder. “Yes, they are,” you reply to the irritated woman. You whip your husband around to face you, fixing his collar. “Babe, why don’t we go get some drinks? There’s tons of cheap choices.” 

At the mention of more booze, he nods and goes into his shorts for his wallet. Then he pats himself down. Then he checks his phone. “Shit, I left my card in the room,” he huffs. “Why don’t you get the drinks, babe? You’ve got your money, right?” You stare at him, your anger boiling like hot soup. “You left your credit card upstairs?” you hiss. 

“But it was your idea to come here. Not mine.” Your husband begins to look around the room, concerned about other people but not you. “Listen, let’s not do this here, especially in public. Just get us some drinks and we can discuss this later.”

He gives you a look like he isn’t down with your “BS” tonight and you quickly storm off, heading to the bar. You could leave him standing here if you wanted to. Then he can be concerned with what other people think. 

You are so angry that you nearly miss someone calling your name from the end of the bar. You look and your heart flips at the sight of the sexy couple that have been invading your thoughts since your first meeting at the pool.

Both are wearing Hawaiian shirts in differing ways (Kiri’s is slightly unbuttoned at the chest while Bakugou keeps his open to expose his white wife beater underneath) and shorts that don’t drag your attention to their dicks at all. 

“Hey, you made it!” Kiri announces, looking overjoyed to see you. Bakugou sits on a stool, a smirk playing on his juicy-looking lips. “So she decided to show up. Where’s your husband at?” 

He looks around the club glowing with pink and purple lights shaped like palm leaves.

“Oh, chatting away with new friends,” you passively reply, so glad that you sprayed yourself with your favorite body mist. “So nice to see you two again.” Bakugou shrugs, his eyes flitting across your form. “Well, we did say we’d be here.” 

“Correction: I said we MIGHT show up,” Kiri states, earning an eye roll from his husband. “But now that you’re here, I’m glad we decided to come tonight. You look great.” His crimson eyes drink in your outfit and legs glowing with shimmery, gold oil, much to your satisfaction. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves,” you flirt, shooting them both a smile. “The Hawaiian print fits you.” 

“Bakugou hates it,” Kiri whispers, making you giggle. He raises a brow at you, curious. “So your man sent you to get drinks? Or are you just that independent?” 

You can tell he is trying to joke with you, but knows that your answer is the latter. “Both,” you sigh. “He’s a little occupied right now, but he wanted us to come here tonight. Something we could both do together.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. What a crock of shit. “And where’s he at now?” Bakugou wonders aloud, still looking around the room. Why he wants to meet your spouse so badly is beyond you. “He should be right…”

You turn, pointing an acrylic nail behind you at the spot where your husband was before…but he is gone. Your stomach drops and you begin to look around the club at unfamiliar faces. He couldn’t have…he wouldn’t… 

Then you hear his ridiculous, drunk laugh and peer across the dance floor where he is sitting in a wicker chair with another woman with enough Botox in her face that her muscles don’t move. You feel your anger reach its breaking point. He left you. He left you.

“Hold my spot,” you growl to the couple, and then you’re storming off, titties and hair angrily bouncing as you do. Your eyes are set dead on your husband, ready to tear him a new one. 

When you finally stop in front of him, it takes him a while to even register your presence. In the time you were at the bar, he has gotten even drunker, his collar askew and his eyes glassy. “There you are!” he exclaims.

You place a hand on your hip, glaring down at him. “And here you are, abandoning me and talking to a chick who isn’t your wife.” 

The Botox woman’s face pales and she scowls at your man. “Your wife?” she scoffs. “You didn’t tell me you were married! Where’s your wedding band?!” Your eyes shoot down to his hand. Sure enough, it’s gone. He took it off. 

“That was just so I wouldn’t lose it!” your husband quickly protests. He stands and puts his hands up as if calming a crazed animal. “Relax, babe. She’s just interested in a possible investment in my company.” You cut your eyes to the woman sipping her martini, looking like a kid caught in the cookie jar. “Oh, I’m sure she is,” you mutter. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

You turn and begin to walk off, but you hear your husband sigh, “Oh, here we go”. That enrages you even further. You storm off to a secluded area in the club, arms crossed and fuming. Your husband follows, looking aloof to your rage. “What’d I do now, Mommy?” he drunkenly asks.

You shove him, earning a few looks of interest and alarm. “Don’t talk to me like that!” you hiss. “How could you just abandon me like that in a place I’m unfamiliar with and with people that I don’t know?!” 

Your husband glares at you, confused and irritated. “I didn’t abandon you! You were getting the drinks!” 

But you barely listen to this half-assed argument, firing off like a firecracker. “That’s the other thing; you wanted to come here tonight and you left the room without your money. So now your wife has to pay for everything while you get drunk off of my dime and flirt with other women.”

You flash your hand at him where your diamond ring glistens. “And I didn’t leave my ring either!” 

Your husband rolls his eyes, his face growing red. “I wasn’t flirting with—“ 

“Oh, save it!” you snap. “Or were you too trashed those other times too that you don’t even remember?” He pulls a face, looking at you as if you’re the crazy one. “What is this about, Y/N? Why are you being this way?”

You can feel tears pushing at your tear ducts, but you push them away; you refuse to cry in public. “I wanted to come on this trip for us to get closer,” you lament. “For us to build that romance again; that spark that we’re missing! And you’re not even trying even a little bit!” 

And instead of showing you compassion and understanding, your husband continues to neglect and invalidate your feelings. “Listen…I don’t know what you want me to fucking do,” he tiredly sighs. “I can’t be the perfect man that you’re looking for, Y/N. He doesn’t exist.” 

‘Clearly,’ you bitterly think. He has shown you that. 

“I do everything for you and this is how you repay me,” he scoffs, still scowling. “Well, fine, if you feel that way, I’ll just leave you be.” He takes a step back and then turns around, walking towards the exit. Your eyes widen at him, gobsmacked. “Wait, you’re leaving?” you gasp. “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna leave me here alone?” 

Then your husband turns around and you think he’s going to apologize; to tell you he is just joking…but then he motions his hands at you in a ‘shoo, shoo’ motion as if you are a mere, pesky fly. “Come upstairs when you’re done acting like a bitch to me,” he cooly says. And then he leaves you alone for good, standing in the club completely humiliated and heartbroken. 

Luckily, someone comes to your rescue to save you from your heartbreak. They tap you on the shoulder and you turn to see Kiri standing there with a gigawatt smile on his handsome face. “Excuse me, miss; me and my husband saw you across the bar and really dug your vibe. Can we buy you a drink?”

He gives you a wink that somehow masks the heartbreak you’re feeling. “Just make sure it’s strong,” you joke back. 

He begins to lead you back to the bar where Bakugou sits, sipping on a mai tai. “Did you find your husband?” Kiri asks, taking the mojito that Bakugou passes to him. “Where’s he at? I thought we were meeting him.”

You stare warily at the pros, biting back tears. “Uh…he wasn’t feeling too good and went upstairs,” you lie. 

Bakugou sees right through it like it’s glass. He takes a final sip of his drink, draining the glass, and nearly slams it on the bar. “Y’know, you’re just as bad as this one when you lie,” he roughly says, nudging Kiri in the arm. “Eyes goin’ off to the side, a little pause like you’re thinkin’ of somethin’ on the spot…you’re not slick.” 

You feel your body flush under the strobe lights. ‘Oh, no,’ you think, lamenting to yourself. ‘Now he’s gonna ask you why you lied, you dummy!’ 

But to your surprise, Bakugou leans one beefy, inked arm over the bar, waving down the bartender. “But if you’re truly hellbent on coverin’ your man’s back, we won’t push it. If anything, I respect it…can’t understand why the goofy left you here though.” He waves a hand again at the bartender, growing irritated at being ignored. 

“Yeah,” Kiri agrees, standing behind Bakugou’s stool and rubbing his shoulders to calm him. He is so tall that he towers over you, somehow making you feel more safe than intimidated by his sheer size. “It’s kinda weird he would just leave without you, unless he had food poisoning or somethin’.” 

Maybe it’s the hot wash of lights or the men accompanying you, but you feel the truth push at your throat. “He didn’t,” you admit. The couple immediately turn their attention to you. “I caught him talking to another woman, we had a fight, and then he left.” 

Kiri blinks his crimson eyes at you. “He left you alone?” he asks in disbelief. “Here?”

You slowly nod, biting your lower lip to keep from crying in front of these two strangers. “He told me to come upstairs when I stopped being a bitch,” you add, cracking a wry smile at the two. “Can you believe this is my marriage?” You laugh it off, but the couple can tell that it is fake and icy.

“Shit, I already thought the guy was a loser; now, it’s a fact for sure,” Bakugou grumbles. 

“Leaving your wife or girlfriend in the middle of a club is NOT manly,” Kiri growls, eyes flashing with anger. “Good thing we’re with you. We can keep you company as long as you’re here!”

Bakugou passes Kiri's mojito to you, coaxing you to sip. “And you can tell us more about this asshole you decided to marry.” He bangs on the bar, scaring a few people. “Yo, bartender! You’re about to lose your tip!” 

You take a tiny sip of the mojito, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of mint, lime, and rum. Kiri pats the empty stool beside Bakugou and you sit, crossing one leg over the other, your dress riding up slightly on your thighs. Kiri sits on your left, sandwiching you between himself and his husband. 

The bartender returns, sweating slightly and out of breath. “Apologies, Mr. Bakugou! Free rounds for the happy couple?” The couple turn to look at you, asking you in silence. “It’s free rounds, darlings,” you giggle, flipping your braids over one shoulder. “I’d be happy to share…and a rum punch too, please!”  

Two rum punches and three tequila shots later, you are spilling your guts to the couple. The three of you sit in a secluded lounge area overlooking the beach, the silver moon glowing off of the waves softly crashing on the shore.

Most people are on the dance floor or at the bar, so you have privacy with the two hunks who sit across from you in lounge chairs. You sit on a small hammock held between two fake palm trees, talking on and on about your husband’s neglect and bummy, crummy ways. 

Through it all, the couple stay quiet, paying close attention to you. You appreciate their listening ears, feeling better just getting it all out.

“So we packed up and came on this vacay in the hopes of rekindling our romance,” you explain, nursing a glass of water that Bakugou ordered for you. “It was my idea and he went along with it, but…now I’m thinking that this was a total waste of time.” You place a hand on your head, mostly because it is spinning but also because you feel so stupid. 

“For him?” Kiri says, sipping his second mojito. “I’d have to say yes; there is NO gettin’ through a guy like that, sweetheart. But a trip like this for yourself is never a waste! You come here to enjoy the pool, the excursions, and makin’ new friends like us.” 

You laugh, finding his words adorable. “We’re friends?” you giggle, not realizing how this sounds: like you want to be more. “Well, I guess only friends would buy me drinks and listen to me trauma dump.” 

Bakugou clucks his tongue, rolling his vermillion eyes. His eyes are so pretty…like rubies. “It’s not trauma dumping if we wanna hear it, silly girl.” Kiri nods, agreeing. “Bakugou’s right, sweetheart. We like you; plus, you’re the first girl we’ve met here that isn’t tryin’ to have a threesome with us.” 

He doesn’t know how wrong he is. And if he keeps calling you ‘sweetheart’, who knows what will happen next. “I like you guys too,” you admit, flushing bashfully. “You make a cute couple; I’m almost jealous!” 

Bakugou cracks a humored smile, sipping a piña colada now. “Well, don’t be. The bartenders already think we’re together.” His tongue glints with something–a piercing, you realize–as he toys with the straw in his glass. 

Suddenly, a thought pops into your head that you have no business saying aloud: “Wouldn’t it be funny if we acted as a couple this whole trip just for the hell of it? Two sexy husbands and their pretty wife?” You begin to laugh a little too much, your cheeks hurting and tears pricking at your lashes coated in mascara. 

When you stop, you realize that the couple aren’t laughing. They’re just staring dead at you. “Yeah,” Kiri deadpans. “Hilarious.” 

Suddenly, the air feels tense and the magic from the alcohol is fading. You don’t feel sexy or confident anymore; just awkward. You take a couple sips of the water and place it on the “W-Well, it’s getting late and my husband is probably wondering where I am.” 

“No, he’s not,” Bakugou argues. The finality in his tone stops you short, rendering you speechless. “Any dickhead who leaves his wife alone in a club isn’t thinkin’ ‘bout her well-being at all.” His gaze is intense and unwavering as he stares at you over his glass rim. “Sorry to break it to ya, babe.” 

Babe? Sweetheart? What the fuck is going on here? ….And why are you so okay with it? You’re so wrapped up in decoding this situation when suddenly, the couple leave their post and come to sit with you in the hammock. Gently, they both climb in and sandwich you between them, their tree-trunk legs dangling off of the side with you. 

“So why not spend the night with two guys who actually want your attention?” Bakugou asks, his lips just a little too close to your ear. You suddenly lose the ability to function like a human being. “W-What?” you stammer, turning to the blonde. “What do you–” 

“You know what I mean,” he interjects. “Can you really sit here and act like you don’t want us too?” One of his hands lays on your knee, making your skin tingle. 

“We’ve been watchin’ you for awhile now,” Kiri confesses, his hand brushing your fingertips. “It wasn’t our intention to ever do anything with another person on this trip, but when we saw you at the pool…” He pauses, taking a breath. “Shit, Y/N, our want for you was instant.” Your pussy gushes at his sinful confession, leaving your thighs trembling.  

“And when we found out your bitch ass husband left you alone here?” Bakugou’s lips stretch into a smile, his eyes mischievous. “It was a wrap.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Out of anyone else in here, these two happily married men want you tonight? 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Kiri gently says, taking your silence for discomfort. “If intimacy isn’t on the table for you, we can just stay here, share some drinks, and dance…or if you really feel uncomfortable, just tell us and we’ll leave you be. Your comfort matters to us, Y/N.”

This man barely knows you and he is showing you more consideration than your husband has in months. Bakugou’s lips brush against your ear, the smell of mint and rum on his tongue. “Either way, we wanna make your husband regret ever leaving you here alone tonight,” he murmurs. “So what’s it gonna be, little one?”

Little one. How did he know that name makes you wet?

You have never been hornier than you are right now sitting between these two studs. The tequila and rum you’ve consumed over the hour helps too. It helps you make the first move by turning towards Kiri, cupping his face in his hands, and pressing your lips to his. He makes a small noise of surprise before he melts into your kiss, his soft lips moving against yours. “Mmm,” he hums against your lips, the sound seducing you. 

When you pull away, his crimson eyes are dazed and hooded. You then turn to Bakugou who watches with bated breath. “You get one too, Dynamight,” you giggle before your lips are crushed against his. Just like his hubby, Bakugou’s kiss causes sparks to ignite in the air and your arousal to switch to hyperdrive. The yearning you feel for these two is instantaneous and intense.

When you pull away, you take their hands in both of yours and interlace your fingers. “So I guess it’s your room then, boys?” you seductively ask, peering up at them through your lashes. 

Somehow, moments later, you find yourself in between the two married pros on a big bed, stark naked and their big, hard, throbbing, pretty cocks stiff in your hands as you stroke them up and down, up and down. You keep your dress on, but your straps were tugged off by Bakugou to expose your tits while Kiri stripped off your heels, blushing as he told you how pretty your feet were. 

You pay close attention to their luscious moans and responsive hums of pleasure as your hands, slick with your saliva, twist around the base as you scale them up to their bulbous tips dripping in pre all for you. You take a couple licks at the white pearls, smiling as their moans grow louder at the feeling of your tongue on them. They felt your tongue minutes before once they stripped, letting you indulge in every rippling muscle they had. 

When they finally took off their pants, you were amazed. While both big and veiny, they have their differences too: Bakugou is smooth and curves upward while Kiri is thick, has a happy trail, and has a dick piercing. You gaped at both of them while the two softly chuckled, finding your reaction endearing.

“I’m guessin’ your man is lackin’ in this department?” Bakugou asked, his hand curling in your braids. Staring at the cock in your face, you silently nodded. Severely, your husband was lacking.

Tap-tap.

Bakugou tapped his tip slightly against your lips, his hooded eyes exploding with lust. “Well? You just gonna stare or take care of ‘em?” Kiri bit his lip and watched, silently urging you to do as you wanted to his dick. 

You do just that, sliding Bakugou’s hard cock into your mouth while you continue to stroke Kiri, loving their eyes on you as you take the blonde deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You raise your eyes to him, watching his handsome face flush red as he watches you throat him, his hips slowly grinding to push himself deeper. “Ah, shit,” he sighs, his eyes sexily rolling back to show the whites and red tendrils of his eyeballs.  

Kiri toothily grins at his husband fucking your mouth, still slowly fucking your hand. “Feelin’ good, Kats?” he chuckles. “Me too. She’s bein’ such a good girl, isn’t she?” He sticks two fingers under your chin to catch the drool that has begun to drip down from your lips and sucks your saliva off of them, staring straight at you as he does. 

“Almost,” Bakugou replies, laughing to himself. “She needs to take this dick a little more.” So he speeds up, increasing his speed so the sounds of you gagging and your wet throat flexing around his cock are more intense and lively, causing him to groan.

“Open wide, baby,” he grunts. “Open that throat up for me.” You’re feeling good and used now as he begins to fuck your face, ruining your lip gloss and staining your cheeks with mascara. 

“God, yes, baby!” he groans. “Deeper. Take me deeper.”

You don’t know how much deeper he can go. Your eyes sting with tears as you feel your throat protest against being filled, causing you to gag more. But you push through, breathing through your nostrils and letting the pro fuck your jaw off of its hinges, your spit dripping down to your tits from your chin. 

“Don’t make her choke now, Kats,” Kiri says, though his cock throbs in your palm at the sight of you gagging on husband’s dick. “I still need my turn.” Bakugou huffs with irritation, but slides out, letting you suck in some air. “Fine; just don’t hog her. That’ll piss me off.” 

Then it’s Kiri’s turn. He is thicker than Bakugou so when he slides into your mouth, you feel it. The wet walls to your throat stretch around him as he slides in deeper, causing you to open your throat as if you are preparing to yawn to accommodate him.

The redhead tilts his head back and moans to the ceiling, his big hand gripping the back of your head. “Oh, fuck!” he moans, pumping his hips forward and back, fucking your throat as if it were a toy. 

You feel absolutely, positively used. You feel like the sluttiest woman who has ever walked the earth. And you love every second of it. Bakugou smiles sinfully as he watches you deepthroat Kiri, making his husband moan and whimper as your throat constricts and flexes around hum.

“I knew you’d be good at this, cutie,” he groans. He pulls you off of Kiri to look deep into his eyes. “You’re just our type too: pretty and eager.” 

His lips crash against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth, never mind that you just sucked two cocks. He kisses you passionately and eagerly, relishing and swallowing the muffled moans you make. And then he’s taking Kiri’s cock and sliding it back into your mouth for you, using his hand to push you down on his husband’s shaft. 

“And very small,” Kiri adds, chuckling through panted breath. “Small enough to pick up and put in any position you wanna get fucked in tonight.” He peers down at you through red slits for his eyes as you throat his cock, sucking and glucking as if it is your profession, spit and pre placing your lipgloss. 

“Would you like that, baby?” he murmurs. You peer up at him through your lashes, feeling heat pool between your thighs. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock. 

Bakugou snatches you away and replaces Kiri’s dick with his, fucking your mouth once more. Your eyes roll back as his cock slides against your throat, filling it, taking it for his own. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans, his fist full of your braids. “Take it, baby. You take it so fuckin’ good.”

His muscles tense as he pistons into your mouth as he would a fleshlight or Kiri’s ass, his balls full of cum and slapping slightly against your chin. 

You feel Kiri’s big palm on your ass, stroking it over your dress. “You’re still wearin’ too much,” he growls, squeezing a handful of your ass. Bakugou watches with interest, loving how you look arching your back as you suck him dry. “Not a bad view,” he hums. “‘Specially from this angle.” 

SMACK! 

Your body flinches and you moan around the cock in your mouth as you feel a sting from Bakugou’s assault on your asscheeks. Kiri’s thick fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to stare up at his handsome, flushed face. “Look up at me, cutie pie. Show me those pretty eyes while you suck my husband’s fat dick.” 

SMACK!

Bakugou smacks your ass hard again, definitely using some of his quirk because of the sharp zap you feel licking across your skin despite the fabric of your dress. “Arch that back a little more, babe,” he gently coos despite rudely fucking your throat. “I wanna see that pussy while you suck me off.” 

He pulls the hem of your dress up to reveal the thong settled between your asscheeks..and currently being eaten up by your pussy, wet pussy. Kiri practically drools at the sight, grabbing your ass at the same time Bakugou does.

“A thong?” he tuts. “What a slut we’ve got, Kats.” Bakugou growls in agreement, palming the soft globes of your butt. “Betcha wore this hopin’ you’d get fucked by another man tonight,” he growls. “Or maybe by us.” 

SMACK! 

“Am I right?” he asks. You feel your asscheeks recoil against his palm, the zap of electricity from his sweaty palm making your senses fire up.

“Y-Yes!” you whimper out. Despite the pain, there is pleasure mixed in the stinging sensation, causing your clit to throb against the slick, sticky fabric of your thong stuck against your pussy lips. 

SMACK! 

This time, Kiri does it and he hits very hard. You wouldn’t be shocked if he left a handprint. “Sorry, little one,” he chuckles. “I just couldn’t resist you anymore.”

He continues to spank your ass, lighting fire across your cheeks and possibly using his quirk too to make his hand a lot rougher. Bakugou slips his cock out and feeds you Kiri’s instead, his dick throbbing and twitching as his husband roughly fucks your mouth this time around. 

You feel his sneaky fingers wrap around the thin waistband of your thong, pulling it so it rubs against your needy slit. “Such a little minx,” he continues as he toys with your thong. “Wantin’ to get fucked by total strangers.” 

SNAP! 

He snaps the thin string back into place like a rubber band, making you jump from the slight sting as it hits your skin. “Shit, look at how wet she is!” Kiri groans. “It’s drippin’ all down these thighs.” He and Bakugou stare at the slick staining your inner thighs which you didn’t realize either. You’ve never been this wet before. 

“All of this just for a couple of spanks on that ass and dick in your mouth?” Bakugou chuckles, thoughtfully stroking your asscheeks. “Yeah, we’re definitely not lettin’ you go back to that dickhead now.” 

Kiri pulls his cock out of your wet mouth, causing a string of spit to connect from his tip to your bottom lip. “You’re stuck with us tonight, baby,” he says, his voice low and sultry. “And maybe for the next six days too.”

He lays you back on the bed, dangling your legs off of the edge as he and Bakugou kneel before you. Their eyes glint at you like twin moons, hot with lust. “Now let us show you what we do to pretty pussies like yours.” 

Somehow, you find yourself on your back with the entire room spinning and swirling as the married couple proceed to share your pussy like it is their last meal on their vacation. Sometimes they share, both of their tongues and soft lips sucking, slurping, licking, and caressing every inch of your sensitive, sopping wet cunt. They alternate between each other too, both of them individually eating you out too. 

Kiri is a whole munch, diving deep into the wet depths of your pussy, moaning about how good and sweet you taste. His crimson eyes lock dead on you, paying attention to the way you respond to his tongue flicks and swirls. Your husband has NEVER eaten you out like this: so eagerly and sloppily yet still considering your pleasure and what you need.

You writhe and squirm against Kiri’s mouth, gripping his red locks for dear life. “O-Oh, shit!” you moan. “Oh, fuck yes, yes, yes! That’s s-so, so good!” 

The redhead hums in amusement, tearing the lips on his face away from your wet, puffy ones below with a wet pop! “Such a squirmer,” he cackles, his big hands squeezing the flesh where your thighs meet your ass.

Bakugou, who has begun to fist his leaking, hard cock, has his sights set dead on your pussy. “Hold her down. She’s not gonna do shit when I’m tongue fuckin’ that pussy.” 

The blonde is a little rougher and more possessive than Kiri, but still eager to slurp up everything you give him. He holds one of your thighs, pressing one leg open while Kiri has the other, the both of them working together to ensure that you can’t move as Bakugou eats your pussy with abandon.

You cry and sob at his tongue lashings, the cold metal of his tongue piercing melting like ice cream against the soaking, hot walls of your pussy. 

You feel another tongue caressing the other hole you have down below, the wetness of his spit slipping down your asscrack. “Mmm, fuck, Kiri,” you whine. The redhead grins against your asscheeks, one hand massaging the globes while he wiggles his tongue against your asshole.

“Yeah?” he teases. “You like gettin’ this ass eaten too?” You whimper as Bakugou sucks on your clit at the same time Kiri presses an open-mouthed kiss to your asshole. “Little slut,” he whispers before his tongue is rimming the tight hole of your ass. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls slack. You have never had anyone eat your ass before, but this was something you discussed with the couple before coming in here. During the walk back to their room, you discussed all the things you want to try and enjoy in the bedroom, including the possibility of anal sex–something your husband wouldn’t dare to discuss. 

“Hey,” Bakugou suddenly growls, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. “Don’t neglect me. I’m the one puttin’ in work down here too.” 

SMACK! 

You shriek, damn near cumming as his palm comes down on your clit, a zap of electricity making your toes curl and your thighs buckle. “I-I’m sorry!” you sob. “I won’t do it again, Daddy, I promise!”

His vermillion eyes glare at you as he smirks, cocky and proud. “Damn right, you won’t; not if you wanna cum…and you do wanna cum, don’t you, little one?” he murmurs before taking your clit into his mouth and gently sucking on the nub. 

He and Kiri continue to slurp at your holes, their saliva dripping down your thighs and your asscrack, soaking you and making your holes even more lubricated. It helps for their tongues to dip in and fuck you, causing your moans to grow louder, so loud that you’re sure that the entire resort can hear you. You dig your hands in their hair and grip their scalps as you feel yourself peaking, your orgasm cresting so much that your back arches. 

“Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum!” you wail out. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna fucking…!”

The two men lick faster, their tongues and lips encouraging you to spill your cum all over them. In a split second, you do and you nearly scream to the heavens as the pleasure engulfs you, washing you away on a wave. The couple moan and growl in appreciation as you spill your cream all over their tongues; they lick away, cleaning up every inch of you. The cum that spills down your asscrack, Kiri catches, feral grunts escaping him. 

When you are finally twitching and whimpering, the two stop, their lips coated in your juices. You watch in awe as they begin to kiss in front of you, mashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. You could cum again just by looking at them.

“Let’s give this hole a break now,” Kiri suggests, his smile mischievous and lustful. One finger rims your asshole, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “I think this one here needs some more playin’ with.”

He turns to Bakugou, puckering his lips at him. “Get the lube for us, won’t you, hubby?” he teases.

Minutes later, after Bakugou grabs a travel bottle of warming, edible lube from the nightstand, you are turned over and bent over the bed, your ass sticking in the air and gripping the sheets as one of Bakugou’s thick fingers gently probes your ass. “Oh!” you gasp, your eyes rolling behind your head. “Ah, fuck!” 

“Does it hurt?” Bakugou asks. You whimper, shaking your head into the bed, but he thoughtfully strokes your ass, envoking a response from you. “Answer me, little one. Gotta know you’re okay.” 

“N-No,” you squeak. “Just…a lot.” It is a foreign feeling that is different from Kiri’s tongue, but the lube and copious amounts of spit that Kiri provided earlier help a lot. Bakugou slips his finger in a little more, taking in the way your body talks to him. “Nice and slow, little one. Gotta make sure we don’t hurt you.” 

Hurt isn’t even a word in your vocab at this point. Your pussy is gushing like it hasn’t before, slipping down your thighs as Bakugou slowly fucks your ass with his finger, opening you up more and more. “Fuck, you’re so tight here,” he grunts. “I’ve been watchin’ this ass all night. Just wanna fuck you here.” 

SMACK! 

He gives your ass a playful slap that has you singing and crooning like a songbird into the sheets stained in your makeup. “Stretch you out the way you need to be,” he murmurs with want, his cock throbbing and pulsing with need between his thighs. Kiri wraps a hand around his husband’s cock and slowly begins stroking him while he brings his lips over to your pussy. 

“But don’t worry, cutie; we’ll fuck you here too. Can’t neglect her, now, can we?” He puckers his lips and spits on your pussy before slurping it back up, stimulating your kitty while Bakugou continues to fuck the puckered hole of your ass. “Fuck, look at you,” he rasps. “Little vixen is gettin’ wetter from this.”

Kiri hums in agreement, your cream and his spit sliding down his chin.

“All it takes is some fingers in your pretty little asshole, don’t it?” the blonde asks before he adds his tongue into the mix, licking around your hole as he continues to probe the tight hole with his finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” you whimper. “Please! More!” Bakugou laughs, taken aback. “More?” he parrots, grinning. “What, you want these dicks now? Is that it? Are these fingers and tongues not enough for some slutty holes like yours?” 

You can’t help it; his dirty words coax your body to move on its own and you toss yourself back into Bakugou’s finger, taking the digit fully in your ass. “That’s a good girl, little one,” Kiri murmurs, his tongue swirling around your clit. “Fuck yourself on Katsuki’s finger. Make yourself cum again.” 

And you do. The stimulation and the warming lube are too much, making every part of your body sensitive to the touch. “H-Ha, o-oh, m-m-my G-God!” you stutter, your hips bucking like a bull’s. “I-I’m gonna cum again!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kiri laughs against your pussy. “Do it, cutie. Cum for us again. Make that pretty hole cum for us.” He and Bakugou continue to lick, grunting and moaning into your holes, pushing you further to the edge. 

But instead of that warmth in your core, you feel a tickle in your bladder and you realize with horror what is happening. “Wait, you guys!” you shout in a warning. “Wait, I don’t think…I’m gonna pee! Stop!”

But they don’t and unfortunately for you, liquid squirts and spills wildly from your pussy and into Kiri’s mouth. He sputters in shock though he doesn’t pull away, slurping up every ounce of you. 

“Shit, she squirted!” Bakugou gasps, laughing in disbelief at the scene. “I’m guessin’ her man never made her do that,” he cackles. He dives down and licks some up for himself, moaning in appreciation and satisfaction at your taste. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

You don’t even know what ‘more’ looks like for you. You think squirting when you’ve never before just about takes the cake, but as the two men climb up on the bed with you, you know that this is not the case for them. 

Kiri gently rubs your back, placing his palm at the middle of your spine as you huff and puff, exhausted. “Tuckered out, little baby?” he coos. Wordlessly, you shake your head. Despite your exhaustion, your need for their cocks is more. “No?” he chuckles. “Even after all that, you still want us?” 

“Oh, baby, we’re gonna have some fun with you,” Bakugou groans. He hikes you up with ease, sitting you down in his lap, his hard cock throbbing against your tummy. “Tell us you want us to fuck you,” he demands, his eyes drilling hard into yours. 

Your response is automatic, your want ignited. “I want you to fuck me,” you reply. “Want you both inside me. Need you both to fill me up and make each other cum.” You wrap a hand around both of them, earning wanton groans in response to your touch. “Please, Daddies?” you beg. 

That plea and your doe-like, brown eyes peering up at them lead to you straddling Kiri’s lap while his thick cock slides against your slit, nudging your clit and making you slippery enough to slide down his shaft. The big, beefy redhead leans back against the headboard, his big hands massaging your ass while you straddle his thighs, grinding your pussy against the shaft of his throbbing dick. “You feel so good, Kiri,” you moan, gripping his shoulders. 

The redhead jerkingly nods in agreement, biting his lip at the feeling. “You do too. Easy now, cutie. I’m bigger than your husband, so take all the time that you—“ 

Evidently, you already had enough time because you’re suddenly sliding your dripping pussy down on him. You both loudly moan at the explosive pleasure, your gummy walls tight and silky around his velvety, pulsing cock. “That was easy,” Bakugou chuckles. “Cock slut couldn’t wait to take you.” He is on his knees behind you, rutting his cock up against your asshole. 

You feel tears prick your eyes, making them glassy and wet as you bring yourself up and down on Kiri’s thick cock, whimpers and sobs leaving your sticky lips. “Oh, fuck, Kiri!” you sob. “You’re so fucking big! You’re stretching me out so good!”

You can feel it–everytime you come down, you somehow feel yourself stretching more. Despite your husband’s nice penis, he could never make you feel this needy. This desperate to take more. 

Bakugou presses a kiss to your shoulder, his pre-cum staining your asscheeks. “Slowly, baby. There’s no rush for this. I’m lettin’ you use my man, so be grateful.” 

You bite your trembling lip, doing your best to go slow. “I-I am,” you whimper. “Thank you!” The blonde groans at your sweetness, his tip nudging your asshole. 

Kiri watches your bouncing tits as you come up and down on his cock like a little bunny, his face flushed red and his eyes crimson slits. “Such a little sweetheart,” he groans. “And such a sweet little pussy too, f-f-fuck!” He grips your ass tighter, drawing you to him.

“Ride me, angel,” he begs, staring up at you. “Please bounce on my cock. Keep usin’ that dick like a toy, little one. Use me.” 

You do as you’re told and begin bouncing a little faster on him, creating an orgasmic rhythm that takes you both to paradise. You dig your nails into Kiri’s shoulders, damn near breaking skin, but he doesn’t care. Not when your cunt is this good.

“Guess you ain’t the only slut here,” Bakugou chuckles. “Does she feel good, Eji?” The redhead whimpers in reply, his fangs digging into his bottom lip. “Words,” the blonde growls. 

“Y-Yeah!” Kiri grunts out. “So good!” Bakugou hums in enjoyment and satisfaction, tucking his hand between you to rub Kiri’s heavy balls. “Then fuck her back. Don’t make her do all the work.” Kiri does as he is told, raising his hips to meet you as you come down, plunging his cock deeper inside of you. 

As he does this, Bakugou’s tip passes the threshold of your ass a bit, making you gasp. “I’m gonna go in now, baby,” he warns. “Just relax. You feel nice and loose now. It’s fuckin’ gapin’ for me.” You can feel it, the walls of your ass nice and stretched, the cool air making you shiver. 

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Kiri groans. “She’s stretched out here too.” And he’s right–you are so stretched open by his cock that he has no problem fucking you dumb, sliding you up and down, up and down, along his cock slick with your juices and his pre-cum. 

“You ready, baby girl?” Bakugou whispers, his lips toying with your ear. “Just tap my thigh if you need me to stop. That goes for shitty hair too.” It takes a moment to find your words, but you do despite your head dizzy with pleasure. You turn to hook an arm around his head, pulling him closer. “Yes, sir,” you mewl. 

“Just the tip,” he grunts before he slides the rest of the way in, pushing past the rim of your ass. He grunts in pleasure as a strange howl escapes you, making you feel like a totally different person. A stranger. A slut who likes getting fucked by two fat cocks in both of her holes. 

“Oh, my God!” you wail, your head falling against Kiri’s chest. Bakugou slides the tip out an inch and goes back in, repeating this action for a couple of minutes, allowing your hole to grow familiar with his cock. “Easy; just fuck me back slowly. Take your time. Gotta make sure you can take all this dick.” 

The two of them begin to fuck you in unison, Kiri slowing down to match Bakugou’s tempo and not overwhelm you. Their luscious moans and feral grunts fill the bedroom smelling of sex, lube, and mingled cologne and body mist, their sweet whispers of “you’re doin’ so good, little one” and “such a good fuckin’ slut for us” making your body tingle with need. 

At some point, the slow fucking flies out the window and Kiri begins to rut up into you, his hips slamming up against yours. Bakugou chuckles, still rolling his hips slow and easy as he fucks your asshole. “So much for nice and slow. You’re fucking her like you wanna nut, shitty hair.” 

“Can’t help it,” the redhead grunts. “She feels so perfect!” His balls, soaked in your juices, slap against your clit as he pounds up into you, grunting with each thrust. “Goddammit,” Bakugou hisses, “if you keep poundin’ her like that, you’ll make me wanna speed up too.” His balls stimulate you too, your needy button nearly exploding from the pleasure. 

“Go ahead,” you beg. “Fuck me faster! Please!” The couple stare at you in astonishment, slightly pausing to regard you in shock. “Faster?” they ask in unison.

You nod, pressing your face into Kiri’s shoulder. You don’t want them to see your face–you know you look a hot ass mess. Bakugou gives your ass a smack, chuckling as he does. “You’ve got it, little one. Just don’t run from us.” 

For the next blissful minutes–or hours?–, the couple fuck your holes in unison, their cocks frotting and rubbing against one another, making them moan, grunt, and whimper into your ear. You bounce pathetically on their dicks, forced to take all of it as you whimper and sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks stained with ruined mascara and foundation. You have never felt this good before. 

Brrring! Brrrring! 

Your eyes open, your vision blurry, and you look down at the nightstand where your purse is. “My phone!” you whine.

Kiri yanks your purse open and takes your phone out, looking at the caller ID. “Oh, it’s the man of the hour!” he jokes. He grins toothily at you, flashing you your phone screen. “Your husband’s calling, baby.” 

‘Oh, shit,’ you think. What time even is it? How long have you been here? He must think you’ve been kidnapped or something! 

“Answer it,” Bakugou grunts. “Put it on speaker.” 

“W-Wait!” you protest, but it’s too late. Kiri answers the phone and continues to fuck you as he stares, his breath coming out in short pants. “Helloooo? Bakugou residence.” 

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, slutty moans as the two men fuck you stupid, Bakugou yanking on your braids while Kiri rubs your clit. “Who are you?” your husband demands. “Where’s Y/N? This is her number, isn’t it?” 

Kiri smirks at you. “Oh, it is, but Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s too busy gettin’ her brains fucked out—something you can’t and won’t do.” 

Bakugou tears your hand off of your mouth, forcing those loud moans and whines to escape you, exposing the truth to your husband about his dirty little wife. “Y/N, answer me!” he shouts.

You do so, moaning Bakugou’s name as his cock fills your ass. Your husband grows enraged, screaming belligerently. “You bitch! How could you do this to me?! I’m your husband!” 

Bakugou snatches the phone from Kiri, giving your husband a piece of his mind now. “Then you should’ve thought about that before actin’ like a damn loser,” he growls. “Now shut the fuck up and stop ruinin’ my fun with your wife. It ain’t our fault you’re gettin’ cucked.” 

He then hangs up before your husband can reply and ruts into you faster alongside Kiri, their thrusts intense and merciful, making the bed shake beneath them. With their dick-alicious dicks and the saucy excitement of your husband hearing you get fucked, you can’t help but feel another orgasm coming on. “M’gonna cum again!” you whimper. “I’m so close!” 

“Cum with me,” Kiri demands, his dick jackhammering into you as you frantically rub your clit. “Cum on that dick, little one. It’s all fucking yours!” 

Bakugou is close too judging by how his cock pulses in your ass and his fingers dig into the flesh of your buttcheeks. “Thaaat’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “That’s my girl lettin’ me fuck that drippin’ little hole.” 

It doesn’t take long for all three of you to cum together, the couple’s thrusts stilling for a moment as they fill you to the brim with their spunk.

You moan loudly, so loud that it bounces off of the bedroom walls, as your holes clench around their cocks and your pussy spasms, spilling your honey all over Kiri’s thick, beautiful cock. Your eyelashes flutter and your muscles clench, your intense nut sending you through the stars and across the galaxy. 

When the high fades and you go limp, the couple gently pry you off of their cocks and lay you down on your back. Like a rag doll, your body is limp and loose, allowing Bakugou to hook your legs up to expose your ass. “Stay there,” he grunts. “Stay right fuckin’ there. I wanna cum all over that ass.” 

Kiri kneels over you, his semi-hard cock hanging in your face. “I’ve still got some for these pretty titties too. I want your bitch ass husband to smell us when you go back to your hotel room, cutie~” 

The two fuck their cocks with their hands, sending spurts of cum all over your tits and ass. You gasp at the warm droplets coating your skin, already drying. Then the couple pull you up onto your knees, holding their cocks out for you. They are coated in cum, slick and juicy. “Clean us off, naughty girl,” Bakugou gruffly demands. “You caused it, so it’s your responsibility.” 

You do as told, kitten-licking and slurping up the taste of your holes and their cum from their cocks, relishing the soft moans and hushed swears as you do. Once you finish, the two gently lay you on your back and lick you clean too, being extra gentle with your pussy and putting a soft pillow under your sore ass. Your entire body feels sore, but deliciously so. 

The pros then lay side by side with you between them, Bakugou on your right while Kiri takes your left. The redhead snuggles into your backside, his hair tickling your face.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. You definitely made this trip unforgettable, that’s for sure!” He wraps his big arms around you, encasing you in a warm, sweaty embrace. 

Exhaustion makes your brain foggy and you can barely focus on what he is saying to you. “Mmm-hmm,” you sleepily agree. 

Bakugou tsks, wrapping an arm around your neck, allowing his arm to be your pillow. “Such a baby,” he huffs. “Close your eyes. Don’t fight it if ya need to sleep.” 

In your blissed out, sleepy state, you ask the question, “So I can spend the night?” 

The blonde once again tsks, scowling down at you. “What kinda stupid question is that? Why else would we be cuddlin’ your ass?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your forehead, making your skin flush with warmth. 

Kiri chuckles behind you, becoming the big spoon as he squeezes you between himself and Bakugou, protecting you from the darkness and tomorrow. “That’s a yes. You could even stay the entire trip if you wanted to, cutie.” 

He too kisses you, pressing one softly against your cheek. “And Musutafu’s only a plane ride away,” he adds. “Anything’s possible, baby.” 

You sleepily smile into Bakugou’s chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek. That all sounds so nice. The three of you? Together? They, your sexy boyfriends and you, their pretty little girlfriend? It sounds so perfect… 

Yet so unpredictable. Tomorrow is only a sunrise away and the future is uncertain. You know eventually, you will have to go back to your hotel room and face your husband. Face your problems. Face the inevitable crash and burn of your marriage. You know that you will have to return home soon and figure things out from there. 

Everything feels unsure right now, but one thing in your mind that remains as you fall off to sleep is for sure: you’re getting a divorce. 

THE END.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

🌴Your Body Is Paradise🌴

🌴Pairing: Married!Poly!KiriBaku x Married!Reader 

🌴Synopsis: When you decide to take a vacation to an island resort with your husband, you think that this is the perfect opportunity to rekindle the lost spark and romance in your relationship. But when your hubby doesn’t exceed your expectations, or even attempt to fulfill them, you start to think that this was a horrible idea…until you meet the sexy celebrity married couple at the pool who are interested in getting to know you on a more personal level and showing you the wonderful vacation that your husband won’t…and can’t.

🌴Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Reader is Black and Fem; Pro!KiriBaku (Late 20s-30s); Cheating/Infidelity; Baecation; Strangers to Lovers; Alcohol Use; Drunk Sëx (but still consensual); Threesome; Dual Blowjob; Dual Cunnilingus/Analingus; Anal Play; Gaping; Double Penetration; PIV; Anal Sex; Hubby Calls While Y'all Fucking teehee; Slutification; Cock Drunk!Reader; Pussy Drunk!Kiribaku; Creampie/Analpie; Aftercare; Dom!Kiribaku x sub!Reader; Reader Cums 3x

🌴Word Count: 12.9k

🌴Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

🌴Writer's Note: I got this little idea after I came back from a cruise vacation & thought about getting dicked down the whole time lmaoo. This fic came out last summer & I wanted to revise it for the new summer era! I hope y'all enjoy it! <3 -love, Jazz

🌴Credits: Kiribaku Fan art credit goes to syrinide! Follow them on Twitter HERE! Dividers made by @feldiesgraphics & @dollywons!

You thought that experiencing sex on vacation would be a lot hotter.

You thought that smelling the sea breeze and hearing the call of seagulls would make for a sexy ambience to ignite that spark. 

But lying beneath your panting, sweating husband as he ruts into you from behind doesn’t make even the least bit of your pussy twitch. While the foreplay started off good, it started during a moment where you were just chilling, reading a book, kind of hungry, and not in the mood for sex…but of course, your husband can’t read the room and is always thinking with his dick. 

So when he proceeds to speed up and repeat that “oh, yeah, oh, yeah” mantra that he does when he gets close, you lie there on your tummy and let it happen, just letting him enjoy it.

You feel like you owe him this. After all, you did take him away from his job and responsibilities as a businessman for a seven-day trip at a resort along the Caribbean sea. Maybe lackluster sex isn’t too bad. Not like other things in your marriage. 

And you are reminded of those things when you feel him pull out and spray his cum on your ass, stilling his hips and letting out a loud grunt as he grips your ass so tight that you wince with pain. When he finally lets out a sigh of relief, he stares down at you, a lazy smile on his face. “Did you cum?” he asks. You nod though you certainly didn’t. But you are the dutiful wife, moaning when you should and pumping up his ego. 

Satisfied, your hubby gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and rolls off of you, leaving you lying naked on the pristinely white sheets of your king-sized bed. You purposely ordered a suite for the two of you for this trip, complete with sofa bed, a vanity for your makeup, a mini-bar, and a balcony overlooking the beach. Perfect for a “baection” with your man to get your marriage back on track and spend time together…or so you thought. 

Once again, reality smacks you in the face when he moves to the edge of the bed naked, showing off his toned body. He truly is a beautiful specimen, but if any woman got him in the bedroom now, they would dumb his ass before he could bust a nut.

The sex while you were dating was quite good, but now? He barely takes the time to make you cum. One could argue that it’s because of his demanding career, but you always take the time to make him “arrive” when you are intimate. 

But him? Crickets. Not to mention no consideration for your pleasure, no care, and no spark. You can’t remember the last time he even attempted to make you cum!

And then…there is the worse part. You turn over on your side as he slides on his robe. “You’re not gonna cuddle?” you disappointedly ask. Your husband pulls a face like he doesn’t believe you’re serious. “You know I don’t cuddle after sex, Y/N. It’s nasty.” 

You scowl at him. He didn’t used to be like this at all. He used to snuggle with you afterwards. Now after sex he is more concerned about cumming and then cleaning up, barely regarding you as his wife. “And cumming on my ass isn’t?” you ask, your tone snipped. He pauses from tying his robe and grimaces. “Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to join me, but not with that attitude.” 

You rise from your position and get under the covers, the cool sheets feeling like silk against your naked body. “I’m sorry, I just…we never cuddle anymore. I thought this trip would change that.”

Your husband only sighs as if you pouring your heart out to him is more of an inconvenience to his shower than not. “We can cuddle after my shower, Y/N. Don’t be so impatient.” 

And then he is gone, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving you alone to feel hurt. And then that hurt stews into irritation. When you hear the water running, it steams just as your anger does.

You start to wonder what you did any of this for. Stressing over the best resorts and just to appease a husband who could care less about the waning romance in your marriage? Four years together, one year married, and all of it hanging on a thin thread because he refuses counseling, therapy, or to talk about your issues. 

Your anger pushes you to rise from the prison of the bed, wipe your hubby’s spunk off your ass with some tissues, and get dressed in your brand new bikini. It is a vibrant yellow that makes your brown skin pop and makes your ass look absolutely delectable. It is among one of the pieces of sexy vacation outfits that you brought along for this vacation. After dressing, you begin packing your beach bag, barely turning around when you hear the shower shut off and footsteps approach. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” your husband asks as if he didn’t just reject you. You don’t turn around as you toss sun tan oil and a romance book in your bag. “I’m going to the pool,” you snippily reply. “Alone.” 

Your husband is silent, watching you pack. “But I thought we were gonna cuddle.” You scoff, finally turning to face him dripping wet in his towel. “Well, we could’ve, but you wanted to shower first after fucking me when I told you about three times that I wasn’t in the mood.” 

You watch his face change from confusion to irritation. Yet another fight and you’ve only been on this ship for a day! “So now I’m the bad guy now?” he scoffs. “You always do this, Y/N. You always wanna twist shit around on me when you don’t get your way!” 

You tilt your head at him, glaring daggers. “When I don’t get my way?” you parrot, enraged.

You could smack him with the sunscreen you’re holding gripped in your hand. “All I did was ask for a fucking snuggle with my husband who only shows me affection when he’s got his dick in me.” 

“That isn’t true!” he barks. You scoffingly laugh. “Oh, it’s not? I had to beg you to come on this vacation just to try to re-spark our romance…and you didn’t even wanna do that!”

You had been planning your introduction to the idea for months, praying that he would agree. He only agreed when you mentioned that you would pay for it and all he had to do was take off for the week. Thank God for your high-paying job and you saving up money for this trip. 

Your husband stands before you now, fuming and fumbling for something to say. You continue to pack until completion and grab your wedges and key card before putting on your sunglasses. “I’ll be back up later,” you grumble. “Don’t wait up.” And you leave him standing in his towel, shutting the hotel door behind you before venturing off to the pool for a cool dip and a cool drink. 

Your pool time to decompress proves to be a good plan. Deciding that the pool is too crowded for your liking, you head to the adults-only area complete with two bars, hot tubs, and ocean views galore. You go to the bar to order yourself a pretty and strong cocktail to take the last ten minutes out of your head.

As you sip on your drink with its pineapple and orange wedges on the glass, your phone rings in your bag. You fish it out, grinning as your friend’s name flashes across the screen. Thank God for the wi-fi package. “Heeeey, babes!” she shouts when you answer. Hearing her voice makes you homesick instantly. “Hey, babes,” you greet. “God, am I happy to hear from you.” 

“I guess the plan isn’t going well,” she replies. “I was gonna ask how your trip is.” 

You cross your legs on the stool, showing off your legs and skin glowing with sun tan oil for all to see. “Oh, I’m loving it, but not being in the same room with a man who won’t even cuddle me after fucking me.” You have admitted some things to your friend about your romance issues in your marriage, but not this. 

“Daaamn, it’s like that?!” she gasps. “Girl, you should've been divorced that loser! I don’t know why you’re even bothering with this BS. You’ve only been married for a year!” 

She’s been telling you this since you got married, reluctantly becoming your maid of honor despite her clear disdain for your fiancé. “But we’ve been together for four,” you remind her. “I can’t just walk away from that. When things are tough in a long term relationship, you try to work ‘em out!” 

‘Until you can’t anymore,’ a little voice in your head remarks. ‘And maybe you’ve reached that limit.’ You wipe the thought away with another sip of your cocktail, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of rum and guava fruit. 

“Yes, but why bother if you’re not happy?” your friend asks. “I mean, are you doing any of this because of you or him?” 

You stop short, thinking about this. Is any of this for you anymore? What about your happiness? Your feelings? “This is for both of us,” you finally reply. “I can’t go on like this anymore. No touching, kissing, or romance…” 

Lately, it’s been happening more since your husband’s promotion as you expressed to your friend months before. The dates have been dwindling, the connection is fading, and the sex is less than enjoyable. You aren’t happy, but you aren’t willing to give up either. 

“How’s he been on the trip?” your friend asks. You use your straw to stir the ice around in your glass. “Just not paying much attention to me, drinking a lot…looking at other women.”

You wince as your friend begins to explode with rage. “EXCUSE ME?!” she bellows. “Oh, heeeell no! You’re gonna have to get even, girl. If he’s gonna do what he wants on this trip, so will you.” 

“What does that mean?” you ask, not entirely sure you want to know the answer. She is happy to elaborate regardless: “It means finding the hottest guy there and getting some vacay dick, no strings attached.” 

You nearly choke on the bit of pineapple wedge you bite into. “I can’t cheat on my husband!” you hiss into the phone. “What kinda girl do you think I am?!” 

Your friend huffs in response. “Fine, then just flirt. Y/N, this is about your enjoyment too! You’re there for another six days, so why not make the most of it with an international stud?” 

You can’t believe you're hearing this. You must have heatstroke. “You’re insane,” you scoff. “I can’t just pick some random guy and—“ You cut yourself off reaching across the bar for a napkin only for your hand to brush against someone else’s. 

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp. “I wasn’t paying any….” Your words immediately die when you catch a glimpse of the red-hot stud sitting next to you at the bar. Literally, his long hair is red-hot, cascading down to his broad shoulders and chest exposed through the few unbuttoned buttons to his Hawaiian top. He is a big guy, at least six-foot something and all muscle as he sits in the stool next to you, bigger than you even while sitting down.

Your eyes trail down to his red trunks hanging loosely from his muscular thighs and calves right down to his big feet in his open-toe slides. Your eyes lecherously slide back up to his beefy arms, one of them inked with a sleeve, and the sharp, toothy smile he gives you. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies, his crimson eyes kind, sparkling in the summer sun. “It’s my bad. I was actually gonna ask what drink that was.” You are so gobsmacked by this sexy stranger than you barely hear your friend screaming at you. “Y/N?!” she screeches. “Who is that?! Is he hot?!” 

“Gottagocallyoulaterloveyabye,” you say in a rush before hanging up. The red-hot stranger continues to smile, making you sweat more than the hot rays above. “U-Uh, it’s called a Sex On The Beach.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach curl. Even his laugh is sexy! “Interesting drink name,” he chuckles. “I heard they have a Cherry Popper and somethin’ called a Pink Pussy here too. Bakugou likes those.” 

“Bakugou?” you question. He tuts, smacking himself on the forehead with a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry; my husband.” 

Your eyes glide down to the gold band on one of his thick ring fingers. Of course, he’s married. “Oh,” you sigh, wilting in disappointment…but why? You’re married! “I’ll have to try those ones. My husband ain’t a fan of cocktails like that; he calls them girly.” 

You may as well let the stranger know that you’re married too. It’s only right…right? “Girly or not, they’re still hella good!” he laughs. “I know me and my man don’t care. I’m Kirishima, by the way.” He sticks one of his big, calloused, scarred hands out for a shake. You ignore the way your pulse jumps as your palm connects with his. 

Kirishima? Where have you heard that name before? Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, are you—“ 

“Red Riot?” he chuckles. “Just don’t blow my cover. I think the Hawaiian shirt is working.” You are shocked. You’ve never met a celebrity before, let alone a pro hero. You’re not used to seeing him without his gear either! 

“It’s a pleasure, Red Riot,” you whisper, once again shaking his hand. It’s really just an excuse to feel his calloused palm gripped in yours again. “So you guys are here on a much-needed vacation?” you ask, sipping on your drink.

“Emphasis on ‘much-needed’,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus it’s our fifth year wedding anniversary and we wanted to celebrate. We’ve been together since our UA days.” 

High school sweethearts?! You could melt right here on your stool. “That’s so sweet!” you coo, raising your glass to him. “Well, happy anniversary to the both of you.” The redheaded hunk smiles, blinding you. “Well, thank you…uh…” 

“Y/N,” you introduce. “L/N.” The pro’s raises his sexy, pierced brow in interest. “Full government?” he chuckles. “Ejirou Kirishima then. My friends call me—“ 

“Oi, shitty hair!” someone barks from the lounge chairs. “What’s the hold up?! You went to get drinks five minutes ago!” You turn your head to the rough n’ gruff-sounding voice, nearly dropping your drink at the sight of the platinum blonde stud standing before you. 

He is ALL man, just as his husband is: big, tall, all muscle, and all tattoos. In opposition to his husband, Dynamight has two sleeves plus a large dragon tattoo snaking around his left slave. Its tail trails up to his orange swim trunks that match the black skull tank top he wears. 

Despite the Raybans covering his eyes, you can tell his eyes are as intense as his handsome face etched in seriousness is. The sun glows against his blonde undercut and the piercings glinting in his ears. His plump bottom lip and brow are pierced as well, definitely exposing you for your fetish. 

The redhead turns to you with a smirk. “It’s Kiri, actually,” he whispers. He then rises to greet his husband, smiling extra big. “Sorry, babe; I got caught up talkin’ to my new friend here. Y/N, this is my husband Katsuki Bakugou.” 

When Bakugou finally stops in front of you, you have to use every ounce of energy to appear normal while sitting with the two mountain-sized pros while they stand over you. Bakugou takes his shades off, putting them on his forehead. Those vermillion eyes are like lasers, intensified by Bakugou’s brooding look your way. His stare is hotter than the damn sun and you lose your cool. 

“N-Nice to meet you,” you stammer. You stick your hand out for a shake. Bakugou stares at it for a brief moment before he takes it in his inked hand. “Likewise. You tryin’ to steal my husband from me?” His expression is so steely that you nearly miss the quirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“He’s joking,” Kiri chuckles, nudging Bakugou in the arm. “Don’t scare the poor lady! I was just telling Y/N here that we’re on our anniversary trip.” Bakugou rolls his eyes but his cheeks are flushed pink. “Ya might as well tell it to everybody on this fuckin’ island.” 

Kiri laughs, pressing a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “So are you here on your own anniversary trip?” the redhead curiously asks. You mentioned your hubby.” 

“Oh, uh…” You freeze, thinking of something to answer with. “Maybe with friends?” Kiri adds. “Family? Or a solo traveler? Which would be cool too!” 

“Jesus, shitty hair, what’s with the third degree?” Bakugou criticizes, glaring at his husband through his shades. The redhead goes red in the face, somehow making himself look sexier. “Sorry. I might’ve had too much before this.” 

“I’m here with my husband,” you finally answer. “Nothing too special.” You take a sip of your drink to cool yourself down and give yourself some liquid courage. Discussing your marriage woes with strangers isn’t ideal for a starter convo for you, yet here you are. The couple look confused and quite perturbed at your statement. “What does that mean?” Bakugou asks, raising a pierced brow at you. 

You shrug, feeling hot all over and the breeze from the ocean provides no comfort. You shouldn’t have talked. “Just that it’s not an anniversary trip or a honeymoon. It was my idea for a vacation.” You almost say that the entire trip came out of your pocket as well. “We’ve been together for four years, married for one.” 

“Well, that’s somethin’ to celebrate!” Kiri exclaims, obviously trying to lighten things up. “And if you’re thinkin’ up fun trips like this, he should feel lucky to have you.” The genuine nature of his tone and the kindness in his eyes nearly make you fold. “You wouldn’t be the first to think that,” you bashfully reply, “but thank you.” 

Kiri looks like he wants to say more but a tray of shot glasses wedged with lime and filled with clear liquid stops him short. “Shots on the house for the happy couple?” the bartender asks with a grin. When he motions to you with the tray, you realize with horror what he’s referring to. “O-Oh, we’re not—“ 

“Don’t be so coy, honey,” Kiri laughs, giving you a wink. “Thanks, sir! We’d love free shots!” He takes the tray from the bartender with no problem and gives him a thankful grin. You stare at him, wondering what in the world just happened and if you’re possibly hallucinating. Bakugou nudges your hip with his, smirking. “Don’t think nothin’ of it. You looked like you needed some tequila.” 

He passes you a shot, the strong aroma nearly singeing your nostril hairs. An open invitation. After all, how often do you find yourself drinking with celebrities? Let alone pro heroes? And it is a vacation. “I guess I do,” you giggle, taking the shot from his thick fingers. You ignore the way your stomach flip flops as your fingertips brush his. “Cheers then!” 

Bakugou’s eyes are full of mirth and interest. “To what?” he asks. You give him a secretive smile, placing a lime wedge in your mouth and sucking on it. You think the couple’s eyes flitting down to your mouth is just a trick of the sun. “To an unforgettable trip,” you respond. 

Clink! 

The three of you clink shots and down them in unison, laughing when Kiri coughs his lungs out. For the next fifteen minutes or so while Kiri orders cocktails for himself and Bakugou, you chat. 

You learn about Musutafu, their home in Japan, is riddled with even more pro heroes than in the U.S. 

You learn about Kiri’s love for spicy foods and Bakugou’s secret obsession with the manga series 

‘A Sign of Affection’ that you both gush over. You tell them about your job and daily life; your likes and dislikes; your relationship with your husband. 

You notice the way Kiri keeps a hand on Bakugou’s knee while sitting to stop him from bouncing it so much. Your eyes catch the way Bakugou’s fingers toy with the hair at the nape of Kiri’s neck. Little things like this make you envious. Not just of them, but of the fact that you can’t join in such PDA. Your husband would never hear of it. 

By the time the convo comes to an end, you feel that buzz and rush of warmth from your drink and three tequila shots. And that recklessness that causes you to eye the couple’s crotches too much.

You should lay down before you do something you’ll regret. “You two should probably head back to your seats,” you tell the couple. “That family with the five kids looks awfully desperate for a chair.” You nod at the stressed-looking couple hollering at their kids to pick up their beach towels and stop fighting. 

Bakugou grumbles something, already getting up to lay claim on their chairs. “Well, maybe we’ll see you around again,” Kiri says with a smile. “Me and Bakugou are thinkin’ of going to Club Paradise. You should bring your man along.” You blink in confusion before your brain, fuzzy from the tequila and the couples’ mixed cologne, realizes that he means the resort’s nightclub. 

“Or just bring yourself,” Bakugou cuts in, not even caring how this suggestion sounds. “Sounds like your man is a wet blanket…no offense.” He shrugs passively though he doesn’t look like he’s that apologetic.

You’re sure the tipsy details you provided to them about your hubby doesn’t help: he doesn’t dance, he hates going out, and he’s all about work. “It’s fine,” you chuckle. “He might be interested, but we’ll see. I’ll give it some thought.” 

“You should,” Kiri replies, unintentionally flexing as he stretches. You do your best to not stare. “A good drink and a dance always helps to…ease the tension.” Your ears perk at the way he says the last three words: seductive. Suggestive. A hot promise lying between the lines. If he meant it to come off this way, he succeeded because your body instantly responds. 

“Especially with good company, I’m sure,” you say, shocking yourself by flirting back. Even more so with the way you stare straight at Kiri and Bakugou while you say it, memorizing their eye color for later. The two look like they want to say more to you, but they are interrupted by two pineapples being shoved at them. 

“For Mr. Kirishima?” the bartender calls. Their drinks are done which means they are leaving now. You feel a pang of disappointment, but it ebbs somewhat when Kiri shoots you a smile. “See ya around, Y/N,” he says before walking off with his husband. As they leave, Bakugou turns back to look at you, his crimson eyes playing with you over the rim of his shades. 

When you turn around to order a cool drink of water (because you desperately need it), your bikini bottoms feel sticky and you’re bothered. Extremely bothered. Especially when you sense that the couple is still eyeing you down from the back. Your nipples tingle beneath your bikini top and everything feels too stimulating. You haven’t had any guy make you feel this horny in years, let alone your husband! 

Maybe you will take your friend’s advice tonight. There is no shame in flirting and having a little fun that doesn’t involve infidelity. Luckily for you, your husband has the same idea that the hot couple did: a night at Paradise.

When you go back upstairs for a shower and a nap, he peppers you in apologetic kisses. “I thought a lot about what you said earlier and I wanna make it up to you. Tonight will just be about you and me.” You believe him when he says this, trusting his word….until you actually get there. 

After a shower, a nap, and some dinner at the buffet, you dress in your vacation clubbing finest: a short, backless dress that ties at the neck and some strapped gold heels with your white toes out. You leave your braids down, spray some fruity body mist on your skin, slather your body in shimmery oil, and you feel delicious as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

You wonder, briefly, if the sexy couple you met earlier will think so too. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t looking forward to seeing them tonight if they come. It’s the only thing worth staying for as you watch your drunk husband flirt with an Amazonian woman with the skin-tight dress, spray tan, and veneers right in your face. You can’t even enjoy the beautiful, tropical ambience or the music because of how irritated you are. 

First, your husband decided to pre-game by ordering a whiskey with dinner. Now he’s here barely spending time with you when you look like a whole snack and disrespecting you?! He wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t pay for the trip!

The woman gives a raucous laugh at something he says, her teeth reminding you of a camel’s. “I can’t believe you live so close to me! What’s it like there? Are the guys as handsome as you?” 

Your husband grins, sloppy and proud. You decide you’ve had enough and stroll up to them, putting a possessive hand on his shoulder. “Yes, they are,” you reply to the irritated woman. You whip your husband around to face you, fixing his collar. “Babe, why don’t we go get some drinks? There’s tons of cheap choices.” 

At the mention of more booze, he nods and goes into his shorts for his wallet. Then he pats himself down. Then he checks his phone. “Shit, I left my card in the room,” he huffs. “Why don’t you get the drinks, babe? You’ve got your money, right?” You stare at him, your anger boiling like hot soup. “You left your credit card upstairs?” you hiss. 

“But it was your idea to come here. Not mine.” Your husband begins to look around the room, concerned about other people but not you. “Listen, let’s not do this here, especially in public. Just get us some drinks and we can discuss this later.”

He gives you a look like he isn’t down with your “BS” tonight and you quickly storm off, heading to the bar. You could leave him standing here if you wanted to. Then he can be concerned with what other people think. 

You are so angry that you nearly miss someone calling your name from the end of the bar. You look and your heart flips at the sight of the sexy couple that have been invading your thoughts since your first meeting at the pool.

Both are wearing Hawaiian shirts in differing ways (Kiri’s is slightly unbuttoned at the chest while Bakugou keeps his open to expose his white wife beater underneath) and shorts that don’t drag your attention to their dicks at all. 

“Hey, you made it!” Kiri announces, looking overjoyed to see you. Bakugou sits on a stool, a smirk playing on his juicy-looking lips. “So she decided to show up. Where’s your husband at?” 

He looks around the club glowing with pink and purple lights shaped like palm leaves.

“Oh, chatting away with new friends,” you passively reply, so glad that you sprayed yourself with your favorite body mist. “So nice to see you two again.” Bakugou shrugs, his eyes flitting across your form. “Well, we did say we’d be here.” 

“Correction: I said we MIGHT show up,” Kiri states, earning an eye roll from his husband. “But now that you’re here, I’m glad we decided to come tonight. You look great.” His crimson eyes drink in your outfit and legs glowing with shimmery, gold oil, much to your satisfaction. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves,” you flirt, shooting them both a smile. “The Hawaiian print fits you.” 

“Bakugou hates it,” Kiri whispers, making you giggle. He raises a brow at you, curious. “So your man sent you to get drinks? Or are you just that independent?” 

You can tell he is trying to joke with you, but knows that your answer is the latter. “Both,” you sigh. “He’s a little occupied right now, but he wanted us to come here tonight. Something we could both do together.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. What a crock of shit. “And where’s he at now?” Bakugou wonders aloud, still looking around the room. Why he wants to meet your spouse so badly is beyond you. “He should be right…”

You turn, pointing an acrylic nail behind you at the spot where your husband was before…but he is gone. Your stomach drops and you begin to look around the club at unfamiliar faces. He couldn’t have…he wouldn’t… 

Then you hear his ridiculous, drunk laugh and peer across the dance floor where he is sitting in a wicker chair with another woman with enough Botox in her face that her muscles don’t move. You feel your anger reach its breaking point. He left you. He left you.

“Hold my spot,” you growl to the couple, and then you’re storming off, titties and hair angrily bouncing as you do. Your eyes are set dead on your husband, ready to tear him a new one. 

When you finally stop in front of him, it takes him a while to even register your presence. In the time you were at the bar, he has gotten even drunker, his collar askew and his eyes glassy. “There you are!” he exclaims.

You place a hand on your hip, glaring down at him. “And here you are, abandoning me and talking to a chick who isn’t your wife.” 

The Botox woman’s face pales and she scowls at your man. “Your wife?” she scoffs. “You didn’t tell me you were married! Where’s your wedding band?!” Your eyes shoot down to his hand. Sure enough, it’s gone. He took it off. 

“That was just so I wouldn’t lose it!” your husband quickly protests. He stands and puts his hands up as if calming a crazed animal. “Relax, babe. She’s just interested in a possible investment in my company.” You cut your eyes to the woman sipping her martini, looking like a kid caught in the cookie jar. “Oh, I’m sure she is,” you mutter. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

You turn and begin to walk off, but you hear your husband sigh, “Oh, here we go”. That enrages you even further. You storm off to a secluded area in the club, arms crossed and fuming. Your husband follows, looking aloof to your rage. “What’d I do now, Mommy?” he drunkenly asks.

You shove him, earning a few looks of interest and alarm. “Don’t talk to me like that!” you hiss. “How could you just abandon me like that in a place I’m unfamiliar with and with people that I don’t know?!” 

Your husband glares at you, confused and irritated. “I didn’t abandon you! You were getting the drinks!” 

But you barely listen to this half-assed argument, firing off like a firecracker. “That’s the other thing; you wanted to come here tonight and you left the room without your money. So now your wife has to pay for everything while you get drunk off of my dime and flirt with other women.”

You flash your hand at him where your diamond ring glistens. “And I didn’t leave my ring either!” 

Your husband rolls his eyes, his face growing red. “I wasn’t flirting with—“ 

“Oh, save it!” you snap. “Or were you too trashed those other times too that you don’t even remember?” He pulls a face, looking at you as if you’re the crazy one. “What is this about, Y/N? Why are you being this way?”

You can feel tears pushing at your tear ducts, but you push them away; you refuse to cry in public. “I wanted to come on this trip for us to get closer,” you lament. “For us to build that romance again; that spark that we’re missing! And you’re not even trying even a little bit!” 

And instead of showing you compassion and understanding, your husband continues to neglect and invalidate your feelings. “Listen…I don’t know what you want me to fucking do,” he tiredly sighs. “I can’t be the perfect man that you’re looking for, Y/N. He doesn’t exist.” 

‘Clearly,’ you bitterly think. He has shown you that. 

“I do everything for you and this is how you repay me,” he scoffs, still scowling. “Well, fine, if you feel that way, I’ll just leave you be.” He takes a step back and then turns around, walking towards the exit. Your eyes widen at him, gobsmacked. “Wait, you’re leaving?” you gasp. “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna leave me here alone?” 

Then your husband turns around and you think he’s going to apologize; to tell you he is just joking…but then he motions his hands at you in a ‘shoo, shoo’ motion as if you are a mere, pesky fly. “Come upstairs when you’re done acting like a bitch to me,” he cooly says. And then he leaves you alone for good, standing in the club completely humiliated and heartbroken. 

Luckily, someone comes to your rescue to save you from your heartbreak. They tap you on the shoulder and you turn to see Kiri standing there with a gigawatt smile on his handsome face. “Excuse me, miss; me and my husband saw you across the bar and really dug your vibe. Can we buy you a drink?”

He gives you a wink that somehow masks the heartbreak you’re feeling. “Just make sure it’s strong,” you joke back. 

He begins to lead you back to the bar where Bakugou sits, sipping on a mai tai. “Did you find your husband?” Kiri asks, taking the mojito that Bakugou passes to him. “Where’s he at? I thought we were meeting him.”

You stare warily at the pros, biting back tears. “Uh…he wasn’t feeling too good and went upstairs,” you lie. 

Bakugou sees right through it like it’s glass. He takes a final sip of his drink, draining the glass, and nearly slams it on the bar. “Y’know, you’re just as bad as this one when you lie,” he roughly says, nudging Kiri in the arm. “Eyes goin’ off to the side, a little pause like you’re thinkin’ of somethin’ on the spot…you’re not slick.” 

You feel your body flush under the strobe lights. ‘Oh, no,’ you think, lamenting to yourself. ‘Now he’s gonna ask you why you lied, you dummy!’ 

But to your surprise, Bakugou leans one beefy, inked arm over the bar, waving down the bartender. “But if you’re truly hellbent on coverin’ your man’s back, we won’t push it. If anything, I respect it…can’t understand why the goofy left you here though.” He waves a hand again at the bartender, growing irritated at being ignored. 

“Yeah,” Kiri agrees, standing behind Bakugou’s stool and rubbing his shoulders to calm him. He is so tall that he towers over you, somehow making you feel more safe than intimidated by his sheer size. “It’s kinda weird he would just leave without you, unless he had food poisoning or somethin’.” 

Maybe it’s the hot wash of lights or the men accompanying you, but you feel the truth push at your throat. “He didn’t,” you admit. The couple immediately turn their attention to you. “I caught him talking to another woman, we had a fight, and then he left.” 

Kiri blinks his crimson eyes at you. “He left you alone?” he asks in disbelief. “Here?”

You slowly nod, biting your lower lip to keep from crying in front of these two strangers. “He told me to come upstairs when I stopped being a bitch,” you add, cracking a wry smile at the two. “Can you believe this is my marriage?” You laugh it off, but the couple can tell that it is fake and icy.

“Shit, I already thought the guy was a loser; now, it’s a fact for sure,” Bakugou grumbles. 

“Leaving your wife or girlfriend in the middle of a club is NOT manly,” Kiri growls, eyes flashing with anger. “Good thing we’re with you. We can keep you company as long as you’re here!”

Bakugou passes Kiri's mojito to you, coaxing you to sip. “And you can tell us more about this asshole you decided to marry.” He bangs on the bar, scaring a few people. “Yo, bartender! You’re about to lose your tip!” 

You take a tiny sip of the mojito, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of mint, lime, and rum. Kiri pats the empty stool beside Bakugou and you sit, crossing one leg over the other, your dress riding up slightly on your thighs. Kiri sits on your left, sandwiching you between himself and his husband. 

The bartender returns, sweating slightly and out of breath. “Apologies, Mr. Bakugou! Free rounds for the happy couple?” The couple turn to look at you, asking you in silence. “It’s free rounds, darlings,” you giggle, flipping your braids over one shoulder. “I’d be happy to share…and a rum punch too, please!”  

Two rum punches and three tequila shots later, you are spilling your guts to the couple. The three of you sit in a secluded lounge area overlooking the beach, the silver moon glowing off of the waves softly crashing on the shore.

Most people are on the dance floor or at the bar, so you have privacy with the two hunks who sit across from you in lounge chairs. You sit on a small hammock held between two fake palm trees, talking on and on about your husband’s neglect and bummy, crummy ways. 

Through it all, the couple stay quiet, paying close attention to you. You appreciate their listening ears, feeling better just getting it all out.

“So we packed up and came on this vacay in the hopes of rekindling our romance,” you explain, nursing a glass of water that Bakugou ordered for you. “It was my idea and he went along with it, but…now I’m thinking that this was a total waste of time.” You place a hand on your head, mostly because it is spinning but also because you feel so stupid. 

“For him?” Kiri says, sipping his second mojito. “I’d have to say yes; there is NO gettin’ through a guy like that, sweetheart. But a trip like this for yourself is never a waste! You come here to enjoy the pool, the excursions, and makin’ new friends like us.” 

You laugh, finding his words adorable. “We’re friends?” you giggle, not realizing how this sounds: like you want to be more. “Well, I guess only friends would buy me drinks and listen to me trauma dump.” 

Bakugou clucks his tongue, rolling his vermillion eyes. His eyes are so pretty…like rubies. “It’s not trauma dumping if we wanna hear it, silly girl.” Kiri nods, agreeing. “Bakugou’s right, sweetheart. We like you; plus, you’re the first girl we’ve met here that isn’t tryin’ to have a threesome with us.” 

He doesn’t know how wrong he is. And if he keeps calling you ‘sweetheart’, who knows what will happen next. “I like you guys too,” you admit, flushing bashfully. “You make a cute couple; I’m almost jealous!” 

Bakugou cracks a humored smile, sipping a piña colada now. “Well, don’t be. The bartenders already think we’re together.” His tongue glints with something–a piercing, you realize–as he toys with the straw in his glass. 

Suddenly, a thought pops into your head that you have no business saying aloud: “Wouldn’t it be funny if we acted as a couple this whole trip just for the hell of it? Two sexy husbands and their pretty wife?” You begin to laugh a little too much, your cheeks hurting and tears pricking at your lashes coated in mascara. 

When you stop, you realize that the couple aren’t laughing. They’re just staring dead at you. “Yeah,” Kiri deadpans. “Hilarious.” 

Suddenly, the air feels tense and the magic from the alcohol is fading. You don’t feel sexy or confident anymore; just awkward. You take a couple sips of the water and place it on the “W-Well, it’s getting late and my husband is probably wondering where I am.” 

“No, he’s not,” Bakugou argues. The finality in his tone stops you short, rendering you speechless. “Any dickhead who leaves his wife alone in a club isn’t thinkin’ ‘bout her well-being at all.” His gaze is intense and unwavering as he stares at you over his glass rim. “Sorry to break it to ya, babe.” 

Babe? Sweetheart? What the fuck is going on here? ….And why are you so okay with it? You’re so wrapped up in decoding this situation when suddenly, the couple leave their post and come to sit with you in the hammock. Gently, they both climb in and sandwich you between them, their tree-trunk legs dangling off of the side with you. 

“So why not spend the night with two guys who actually want your attention?” Bakugou asks, his lips just a little too close to your ear. You suddenly lose the ability to function like a human being. “W-What?” you stammer, turning to the blonde. “What do you–” 

“You know what I mean,” he interjects. “Can you really sit here and act like you don’t want us too?” One of his hands lays on your knee, making your skin tingle. 

“We’ve been watchin’ you for awhile now,” Kiri confesses, his hand brushing your fingertips. “It wasn’t our intention to ever do anything with another person on this trip, but when we saw you at the pool…” He pauses, taking a breath. “Shit, Y/N, our want for you was instant.” Your pussy gushes at his sinful confession, leaving your thighs trembling.  

“And when we found out your bitch ass husband left you alone here?” Bakugou’s lips stretch into a smile, his eyes mischievous. “It was a wrap.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Out of anyone else in here, these two happily married men want you tonight? 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Kiri gently says, taking your silence for discomfort. “If intimacy isn’t on the table for you, we can just stay here, share some drinks, and dance…or if you really feel uncomfortable, just tell us and we’ll leave you be. Your comfort matters to us, Y/N.”

This man barely knows you and he is showing you more consideration than your husband has in months. Bakugou’s lips brush against your ear, the smell of mint and rum on his tongue. “Either way, we wanna make your husband regret ever leaving you here alone tonight,” he murmurs. “So what’s it gonna be, little one?”

Little one. How did he know that name makes you wet?

You have never been hornier than you are right now sitting between these two studs. The tequila and rum you’ve consumed over the hour helps too. It helps you make the first move by turning towards Kiri, cupping his face in his hands, and pressing your lips to his. He makes a small noise of surprise before he melts into your kiss, his soft lips moving against yours. “Mmm,” he hums against your lips, the sound seducing you. 

When you pull away, his crimson eyes are dazed and hooded. You then turn to Bakugou who watches with bated breath. “You get one too, Dynamight,” you giggle before your lips are crushed against his. Just like his hubby, Bakugou’s kiss causes sparks to ignite in the air and your arousal to switch to hyperdrive. The yearning you feel for these two is instantaneous and intense.

When you pull away, you take their hands in both of yours and interlace your fingers. “So I guess it’s your room then, boys?” you seductively ask, peering up at them through your lashes. 

Somehow, moments later, you find yourself in between the two married pros on a big bed, stark naked and their big, hard, throbbing, pretty cocks stiff in your hands as you stroke them up and down, up and down. You keep your dress on, but your straps were tugged off by Bakugou to expose your tits while Kiri stripped off your heels, blushing as he told you how pretty your feet were. 

You pay close attention to their luscious moans and responsive hums of pleasure as your hands, slick with your saliva, twist around the base as you scale them up to their bulbous tips dripping in pre all for you. You take a couple licks at the white pearls, smiling as their moans grow louder at the feeling of your tongue on them. They felt your tongue minutes before once they stripped, letting you indulge in every rippling muscle they had. 

When they finally took off their pants, you were amazed. While both big and veiny, they have their differences too: Bakugou is smooth and curves upward while Kiri is thick, has a happy trail, and has a dick piercing. You gaped at both of them while the two softly chuckled, finding your reaction endearing.

“I’m guessin’ your man is lackin’ in this department?” Bakugou asked, his hand curling in your braids. Staring at the cock in your face, you silently nodded. Severely, your husband was lacking.

Tap-tap.

Bakugou tapped his tip slightly against your lips, his hooded eyes exploding with lust. “Well? You just gonna stare or take care of ‘em?” Kiri bit his lip and watched, silently urging you to do as you wanted to his dick. 

You do just that, sliding Bakugou’s hard cock into your mouth while you continue to stroke Kiri, loving their eyes on you as you take the blonde deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You raise your eyes to him, watching his handsome face flush red as he watches you throat him, his hips slowly grinding to push himself deeper. “Ah, shit,” he sighs, his eyes sexily rolling back to show the whites and red tendrils of his eyeballs.  

Kiri toothily grins at his husband fucking your mouth, still slowly fucking your hand. “Feelin’ good, Kats?” he chuckles. “Me too. She’s bein’ such a good girl, isn’t she?” He sticks two fingers under your chin to catch the drool that has begun to drip down from your lips and sucks your saliva off of them, staring straight at you as he does. 

“Almost,” Bakugou replies, laughing to himself. “She needs to take this dick a little more.” So he speeds up, increasing his speed so the sounds of you gagging and your wet throat flexing around his cock are more intense and lively, causing him to groan.

“Open wide, baby,” he grunts. “Open that throat up for me.” You’re feeling good and used now as he begins to fuck your face, ruining your lip gloss and staining your cheeks with mascara. 

“God, yes, baby!” he groans. “Deeper. Take me deeper.”

You don’t know how much deeper he can go. Your eyes sting with tears as you feel your throat protest against being filled, causing you to gag more. But you push through, breathing through your nostrils and letting the pro fuck your jaw off of its hinges, your spit dripping down to your tits from your chin. 

“Don’t make her choke now, Kats,” Kiri says, though his cock throbs in your palm at the sight of you gagging on husband’s dick. “I still need my turn.” Bakugou huffs with irritation, but slides out, letting you suck in some air. “Fine; just don’t hog her. That’ll piss me off.” 

Then it’s Kiri’s turn. He is thicker than Bakugou so when he slides into your mouth, you feel it. The wet walls to your throat stretch around him as he slides in deeper, causing you to open your throat as if you are preparing to yawn to accommodate him.

The redhead tilts his head back and moans to the ceiling, his big hand gripping the back of your head. “Oh, fuck!” he moans, pumping his hips forward and back, fucking your throat as if it were a toy. 

You feel absolutely, positively used. You feel like the sluttiest woman who has ever walked the earth. And you love every second of it. Bakugou smiles sinfully as he watches you deepthroat Kiri, making his husband moan and whimper as your throat constricts and flexes around hum.

“I knew you’d be good at this, cutie,” he groans. He pulls you off of Kiri to look deep into his eyes. “You’re just our type too: pretty and eager.” 

His lips crash against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth, never mind that you just sucked two cocks. He kisses you passionately and eagerly, relishing and swallowing the muffled moans you make. And then he’s taking Kiri’s cock and sliding it back into your mouth for you, using his hand to push you down on his husband’s shaft. 

“And very small,” Kiri adds, chuckling through panted breath. “Small enough to pick up and put in any position you wanna get fucked in tonight.” He peers down at you through red slits for his eyes as you throat his cock, sucking and glucking as if it is your profession, spit and pre placing your lipgloss. 

“Would you like that, baby?” he murmurs. You peer up at him through your lashes, feeling heat pool between your thighs. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock. 

Bakugou snatches you away and replaces Kiri’s dick with his, fucking your mouth once more. Your eyes roll back as his cock slides against your throat, filling it, taking it for his own. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans, his fist full of your braids. “Take it, baby. You take it so fuckin’ good.”

His muscles tense as he pistons into your mouth as he would a fleshlight or Kiri’s ass, his balls full of cum and slapping slightly against your chin. 

You feel Kiri’s big palm on your ass, stroking it over your dress. “You’re still wearin’ too much,” he growls, squeezing a handful of your ass. Bakugou watches with interest, loving how you look arching your back as you suck him dry. “Not a bad view,” he hums. “‘Specially from this angle.” 

SMACK! 

Your body flinches and you moan around the cock in your mouth as you feel a sting from Bakugou’s assault on your asscheeks. Kiri’s thick fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to stare up at his handsome, flushed face. “Look up at me, cutie pie. Show me those pretty eyes while you suck my husband’s fat dick.” 

SMACK!

Bakugou smacks your ass hard again, definitely using some of his quirk because of the sharp zap you feel licking across your skin despite the fabric of your dress. “Arch that back a little more, babe,” he gently coos despite rudely fucking your throat. “I wanna see that pussy while you suck me off.” 

He pulls the hem of your dress up to reveal the thong settled between your asscheeks..and currently being eaten up by your pussy, wet pussy. Kiri practically drools at the sight, grabbing your ass at the same time Bakugou does.

“A thong?” he tuts. “What a slut we’ve got, Kats.” Bakugou growls in agreement, palming the soft globes of your butt. “Betcha wore this hopin’ you’d get fucked by another man tonight,” he growls. “Or maybe by us.” 

SMACK! 

“Am I right?” he asks. You feel your asscheeks recoil against his palm, the zap of electricity from his sweaty palm making your senses fire up.

“Y-Yes!” you whimper out. Despite the pain, there is pleasure mixed in the stinging sensation, causing your clit to throb against the slick, sticky fabric of your thong stuck against your pussy lips. 

SMACK! 

This time, Kiri does it and he hits very hard. You wouldn’t be shocked if he left a handprint. “Sorry, little one,” he chuckles. “I just couldn’t resist you anymore.”

He continues to spank your ass, lighting fire across your cheeks and possibly using his quirk too to make his hand a lot rougher. Bakugou slips his cock out and feeds you Kiri’s instead, his dick throbbing and twitching as his husband roughly fucks your mouth this time around. 

You feel his sneaky fingers wrap around the thin waistband of your thong, pulling it so it rubs against your needy slit. “Such a little minx,” he continues as he toys with your thong. “Wantin’ to get fucked by total strangers.” 

SNAP! 

He snaps the thin string back into place like a rubber band, making you jump from the slight sting as it hits your skin. “Shit, look at how wet she is!” Kiri groans. “It’s drippin’ all down these thighs.” He and Bakugou stare at the slick staining your inner thighs which you didn’t realize either. You’ve never been this wet before. 

“All of this just for a couple of spanks on that ass and dick in your mouth?” Bakugou chuckles, thoughtfully stroking your asscheeks. “Yeah, we’re definitely not lettin’ you go back to that dickhead now.” 

Kiri pulls his cock out of your wet mouth, causing a string of spit to connect from his tip to your bottom lip. “You’re stuck with us tonight, baby,” he says, his voice low and sultry. “And maybe for the next six days too.”

He lays you back on the bed, dangling your legs off of the edge as he and Bakugou kneel before you. Their eyes glint at you like twin moons, hot with lust. “Now let us show you what we do to pretty pussies like yours.” 

Somehow, you find yourself on your back with the entire room spinning and swirling as the married couple proceed to share your pussy like it is their last meal on their vacation. Sometimes they share, both of their tongues and soft lips sucking, slurping, licking, and caressing every inch of your sensitive, sopping wet cunt. They alternate between each other too, both of them individually eating you out too. 

Kiri is a whole munch, diving deep into the wet depths of your pussy, moaning about how good and sweet you taste. His crimson eyes lock dead on you, paying attention to the way you respond to his tongue flicks and swirls. Your husband has NEVER eaten you out like this: so eagerly and sloppily yet still considering your pleasure and what you need.

You writhe and squirm against Kiri’s mouth, gripping his red locks for dear life. “O-Oh, shit!” you moan. “Oh, fuck yes, yes, yes! That’s s-so, so good!” 

The redhead hums in amusement, tearing the lips on his face away from your wet, puffy ones below with a wet pop! “Such a squirmer,” he cackles, his big hands squeezing the flesh where your thighs meet your ass.

Bakugou, who has begun to fist his leaking, hard cock, has his sights set dead on your pussy. “Hold her down. She’s not gonna do shit when I’m tongue fuckin’ that pussy.” 

The blonde is a little rougher and more possessive than Kiri, but still eager to slurp up everything you give him. He holds one of your thighs, pressing one leg open while Kiri has the other, the both of them working together to ensure that you can’t move as Bakugou eats your pussy with abandon.

You cry and sob at his tongue lashings, the cold metal of his tongue piercing melting like ice cream against the soaking, hot walls of your pussy. 

You feel another tongue caressing the other hole you have down below, the wetness of his spit slipping down your asscrack. “Mmm, fuck, Kiri,” you whine. The redhead grins against your asscheeks, one hand massaging the globes while he wiggles his tongue against your asshole.

“Yeah?” he teases. “You like gettin’ this ass eaten too?” You whimper as Bakugou sucks on your clit at the same time Kiri presses an open-mouthed kiss to your asshole. “Little slut,” he whispers before his tongue is rimming the tight hole of your ass. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls slack. You have never had anyone eat your ass before, but this was something you discussed with the couple before coming in here. During the walk back to their room, you discussed all the things you want to try and enjoy in the bedroom, including the possibility of anal sex–something your husband wouldn’t dare to discuss. 

“Hey,” Bakugou suddenly growls, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. “Don’t neglect me. I’m the one puttin’ in work down here too.” 

SMACK! 

You shriek, damn near cumming as his palm comes down on your clit, a zap of electricity making your toes curl and your thighs buckle. “I-I’m sorry!” you sob. “I won’t do it again, Daddy, I promise!”

His vermillion eyes glare at you as he smirks, cocky and proud. “Damn right, you won’t; not if you wanna cum…and you do wanna cum, don’t you, little one?” he murmurs before taking your clit into his mouth and gently sucking on the nub. 

He and Kiri continue to slurp at your holes, their saliva dripping down your thighs and your asscrack, soaking you and making your holes even more lubricated. It helps for their tongues to dip in and fuck you, causing your moans to grow louder, so loud that you’re sure that the entire resort can hear you. You dig your hands in their hair and grip their scalps as you feel yourself peaking, your orgasm cresting so much that your back arches. 

“Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum!” you wail out. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna fucking…!”

The two men lick faster, their tongues and lips encouraging you to spill your cum all over them. In a split second, you do and you nearly scream to the heavens as the pleasure engulfs you, washing you away on a wave. The couple moan and growl in appreciation as you spill your cream all over their tongues; they lick away, cleaning up every inch of you. The cum that spills down your asscrack, Kiri catches, feral grunts escaping him. 

When you are finally twitching and whimpering, the two stop, their lips coated in your juices. You watch in awe as they begin to kiss in front of you, mashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. You could cum again just by looking at them.

“Let’s give this hole a break now,” Kiri suggests, his smile mischievous and lustful. One finger rims your asshole, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “I think this one here needs some more playin’ with.”

He turns to Bakugou, puckering his lips at him. “Get the lube for us, won’t you, hubby?” he teases.

Minutes later, after Bakugou grabs a travel bottle of warming, edible lube from the nightstand, you are turned over and bent over the bed, your ass sticking in the air and gripping the sheets as one of Bakugou’s thick fingers gently probes your ass. “Oh!” you gasp, your eyes rolling behind your head. “Ah, fuck!” 

“Does it hurt?” Bakugou asks. You whimper, shaking your head into the bed, but he thoughtfully strokes your ass, envoking a response from you. “Answer me, little one. Gotta know you’re okay.” 

“N-No,” you squeak. “Just…a lot.” It is a foreign feeling that is different from Kiri’s tongue, but the lube and copious amounts of spit that Kiri provided earlier help a lot. Bakugou slips his finger in a little more, taking in the way your body talks to him. “Nice and slow, little one. Gotta make sure we don’t hurt you.” 

Hurt isn’t even a word in your vocab at this point. Your pussy is gushing like it hasn’t before, slipping down your thighs as Bakugou slowly fucks your ass with his finger, opening you up more and more. “Fuck, you’re so tight here,” he grunts. “I’ve been watchin’ this ass all night. Just wanna fuck you here.” 

SMACK! 

He gives your ass a playful slap that has you singing and crooning like a songbird into the sheets stained in your makeup. “Stretch you out the way you need to be,” he murmurs with want, his cock throbbing and pulsing with need between his thighs. Kiri wraps a hand around his husband’s cock and slowly begins stroking him while he brings his lips over to your pussy. 

“But don’t worry, cutie; we’ll fuck you here too. Can’t neglect her, now, can we?” He puckers his lips and spits on your pussy before slurping it back up, stimulating your kitty while Bakugou continues to fuck the puckered hole of your ass. “Fuck, look at you,” he rasps. “Little vixen is gettin’ wetter from this.”

Kiri hums in agreement, your cream and his spit sliding down his chin.

“All it takes is some fingers in your pretty little asshole, don’t it?” the blonde asks before he adds his tongue into the mix, licking around your hole as he continues to probe the tight hole with his finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” you whimper. “Please! More!” Bakugou laughs, taken aback. “More?” he parrots, grinning. “What, you want these dicks now? Is that it? Are these fingers and tongues not enough for some slutty holes like yours?” 

You can’t help it; his dirty words coax your body to move on its own and you toss yourself back into Bakugou’s finger, taking the digit fully in your ass. “That’s a good girl, little one,” Kiri murmurs, his tongue swirling around your clit. “Fuck yourself on Katsuki’s finger. Make yourself cum again.” 

And you do. The stimulation and the warming lube are too much, making every part of your body sensitive to the touch. “H-Ha, o-oh, m-m-my G-God!” you stutter, your hips bucking like a bull’s. “I-I’m gonna cum again!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kiri laughs against your pussy. “Do it, cutie. Cum for us again. Make that pretty hole cum for us.” He and Bakugou continue to lick, grunting and moaning into your holes, pushing you further to the edge. 

But instead of that warmth in your core, you feel a tickle in your bladder and you realize with horror what is happening. “Wait, you guys!” you shout in a warning. “Wait, I don’t think…I’m gonna pee! Stop!”

But they don’t and unfortunately for you, liquid squirts and spills wildly from your pussy and into Kiri’s mouth. He sputters in shock though he doesn’t pull away, slurping up every ounce of you. 

“Shit, she squirted!” Bakugou gasps, laughing in disbelief at the scene. “I’m guessin’ her man never made her do that,” he cackles. He dives down and licks some up for himself, moaning in appreciation and satisfaction at your taste. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

You don’t even know what ‘more’ looks like for you. You think squirting when you’ve never before just about takes the cake, but as the two men climb up on the bed with you, you know that this is not the case for them. 

Kiri gently rubs your back, placing his palm at the middle of your spine as you huff and puff, exhausted. “Tuckered out, little baby?” he coos. Wordlessly, you shake your head. Despite your exhaustion, your need for their cocks is more. “No?” he chuckles. “Even after all that, you still want us?” 

“Oh, baby, we’re gonna have some fun with you,” Bakugou groans. He hikes you up with ease, sitting you down in his lap, his hard cock throbbing against your tummy. “Tell us you want us to fuck you,” he demands, his eyes drilling hard into yours. 

Your response is automatic, your want ignited. “I want you to fuck me,” you reply. “Want you both inside me. Need you both to fill me up and make each other cum.” You wrap a hand around both of them, earning wanton groans in response to your touch. “Please, Daddies?” you beg. 

That plea and your doe-like, brown eyes peering up at them lead to you straddling Kiri’s lap while his thick cock slides against your slit, nudging your clit and making you slippery enough to slide down his shaft. The big, beefy redhead leans back against the headboard, his big hands massaging your ass while you straddle his thighs, grinding your pussy against the shaft of his throbbing dick. “You feel so good, Kiri,” you moan, gripping his shoulders. 

The redhead jerkingly nods in agreement, biting his lip at the feeling. “You do too. Easy now, cutie. I’m bigger than your husband, so take all the time that you—“ 

Evidently, you already had enough time because you’re suddenly sliding your dripping pussy down on him. You both loudly moan at the explosive pleasure, your gummy walls tight and silky around his velvety, pulsing cock. “That was easy,” Bakugou chuckles. “Cock slut couldn’t wait to take you.” He is on his knees behind you, rutting his cock up against your asshole. 

You feel tears prick your eyes, making them glassy and wet as you bring yourself up and down on Kiri’s thick cock, whimpers and sobs leaving your sticky lips. “Oh, fuck, Kiri!” you sob. “You’re so fucking big! You’re stretching me out so good!”

You can feel it–everytime you come down, you somehow feel yourself stretching more. Despite your husband’s nice penis, he could never make you feel this needy. This desperate to take more. 

Bakugou presses a kiss to your shoulder, his pre-cum staining your asscheeks. “Slowly, baby. There’s no rush for this. I’m lettin’ you use my man, so be grateful.” 

You bite your trembling lip, doing your best to go slow. “I-I am,” you whimper. “Thank you!” The blonde groans at your sweetness, his tip nudging your asshole. 

Kiri watches your bouncing tits as you come up and down on his cock like a little bunny, his face flushed red and his eyes crimson slits. “Such a little sweetheart,” he groans. “And such a sweet little pussy too, f-f-fuck!” He grips your ass tighter, drawing you to him.

“Ride me, angel,” he begs, staring up at you. “Please bounce on my cock. Keep usin’ that dick like a toy, little one. Use me.” 

You do as you’re told and begin bouncing a little faster on him, creating an orgasmic rhythm that takes you both to paradise. You dig your nails into Kiri’s shoulders, damn near breaking skin, but he doesn’t care. Not when your cunt is this good.

“Guess you ain’t the only slut here,” Bakugou chuckles. “Does she feel good, Eji?” The redhead whimpers in reply, his fangs digging into his bottom lip. “Words,” the blonde growls. 

“Y-Yeah!” Kiri grunts out. “So good!” Bakugou hums in enjoyment and satisfaction, tucking his hand between you to rub Kiri’s heavy balls. “Then fuck her back. Don’t make her do all the work.” Kiri does as he is told, raising his hips to meet you as you come down, plunging his cock deeper inside of you. 

As he does this, Bakugou’s tip passes the threshold of your ass a bit, making you gasp. “I’m gonna go in now, baby,” he warns. “Just relax. You feel nice and loose now. It’s fuckin’ gapin’ for me.” You can feel it, the walls of your ass nice and stretched, the cool air making you shiver. 

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Kiri groans. “She’s stretched out here too.” And he’s right–you are so stretched open by his cock that he has no problem fucking you dumb, sliding you up and down, up and down, along his cock slick with your juices and his pre-cum. 

“You ready, baby girl?” Bakugou whispers, his lips toying with your ear. “Just tap my thigh if you need me to stop. That goes for shitty hair too.” It takes a moment to find your words, but you do despite your head dizzy with pleasure. You turn to hook an arm around his head, pulling him closer. “Yes, sir,” you mewl. 

“Just the tip,” he grunts before he slides the rest of the way in, pushing past the rim of your ass. He grunts in pleasure as a strange howl escapes you, making you feel like a totally different person. A stranger. A slut who likes getting fucked by two fat cocks in both of her holes. 

“Oh, my God!” you wail, your head falling against Kiri’s chest. Bakugou slides the tip out an inch and goes back in, repeating this action for a couple of minutes, allowing your hole to grow familiar with his cock. “Easy; just fuck me back slowly. Take your time. Gotta make sure you can take all this dick.” 

The two of them begin to fuck you in unison, Kiri slowing down to match Bakugou’s tempo and not overwhelm you. Their luscious moans and feral grunts fill the bedroom smelling of sex, lube, and mingled cologne and body mist, their sweet whispers of “you’re doin’ so good, little one” and “such a good fuckin’ slut for us” making your body tingle with need. 

At some point, the slow fucking flies out the window and Kiri begins to rut up into you, his hips slamming up against yours. Bakugou chuckles, still rolling his hips slow and easy as he fucks your asshole. “So much for nice and slow. You’re fucking her like you wanna nut, shitty hair.” 

“Can’t help it,” the redhead grunts. “She feels so perfect!” His balls, soaked in your juices, slap against your clit as he pounds up into you, grunting with each thrust. “Goddammit,” Bakugou hisses, “if you keep poundin’ her like that, you’ll make me wanna speed up too.” His balls stimulate you too, your needy button nearly exploding from the pleasure. 

“Go ahead,” you beg. “Fuck me faster! Please!” The couple stare at you in astonishment, slightly pausing to regard you in shock. “Faster?” they ask in unison.

You nod, pressing your face into Kiri’s shoulder. You don’t want them to see your face–you know you look a hot ass mess. Bakugou gives your ass a smack, chuckling as he does. “You’ve got it, little one. Just don’t run from us.” 

For the next blissful minutes–or hours?–, the couple fuck your holes in unison, their cocks frotting and rubbing against one another, making them moan, grunt, and whimper into your ear. You bounce pathetically on their dicks, forced to take all of it as you whimper and sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks stained with ruined mascara and foundation. You have never felt this good before. 

Brrring! Brrrring! 

Your eyes open, your vision blurry, and you look down at the nightstand where your purse is. “My phone!” you whine.

Kiri yanks your purse open and takes your phone out, looking at the caller ID. “Oh, it’s the man of the hour!” he jokes. He grins toothily at you, flashing you your phone screen. “Your husband’s calling, baby.” 

‘Oh, shit,’ you think. What time even is it? How long have you been here? He must think you’ve been kidnapped or something! 

“Answer it,” Bakugou grunts. “Put it on speaker.” 

“W-Wait!” you protest, but it’s too late. Kiri answers the phone and continues to fuck you as he stares, his breath coming out in short pants. “Helloooo? Bakugou residence.” 

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, slutty moans as the two men fuck you stupid, Bakugou yanking on your braids while Kiri rubs your clit. “Who are you?” your husband demands. “Where’s Y/N? This is her number, isn’t it?” 

Kiri smirks at you. “Oh, it is, but Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s too busy gettin’ her brains fucked out—something you can’t and won’t do.” 

Bakugou tears your hand off of your mouth, forcing those loud moans and whines to escape you, exposing the truth to your husband about his dirty little wife. “Y/N, answer me!” he shouts.

You do so, moaning Bakugou’s name as his cock fills your ass. Your husband grows enraged, screaming belligerently. “You bitch! How could you do this to me?! I’m your husband!” 

Bakugou snatches the phone from Kiri, giving your husband a piece of his mind now. “Then you should’ve thought about that before actin’ like a damn loser,” he growls. “Now shut the fuck up and stop ruinin’ my fun with your wife. It ain’t our fault you’re gettin’ cucked.” 

He then hangs up before your husband can reply and ruts into you faster alongside Kiri, their thrusts intense and merciful, making the bed shake beneath them. With their dick-alicious dicks and the saucy excitement of your husband hearing you get fucked, you can’t help but feel another orgasm coming on. “M’gonna cum again!” you whimper. “I’m so close!” 

“Cum with me,” Kiri demands, his dick jackhammering into you as you frantically rub your clit. “Cum on that dick, little one. It’s all fucking yours!” 

Bakugou is close too judging by how his cock pulses in your ass and his fingers dig into the flesh of your buttcheeks. “Thaaat’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “That’s my girl lettin’ me fuck that drippin’ little hole.” 

It doesn’t take long for all three of you to cum together, the couple’s thrusts stilling for a moment as they fill you to the brim with their spunk.

You moan loudly, so loud that it bounces off of the bedroom walls, as your holes clench around their cocks and your pussy spasms, spilling your honey all over Kiri’s thick, beautiful cock. Your eyelashes flutter and your muscles clench, your intense nut sending you through the stars and across the galaxy. 

When the high fades and you go limp, the couple gently pry you off of their cocks and lay you down on your back. Like a rag doll, your body is limp and loose, allowing Bakugou to hook your legs up to expose your ass. “Stay there,” he grunts. “Stay right fuckin’ there. I wanna cum all over that ass.” 

Kiri kneels over you, his semi-hard cock hanging in your face. “I’ve still got some for these pretty titties too. I want your bitch ass husband to smell us when you go back to your hotel room, cutie~” 

The two fuck their cocks with their hands, sending spurts of cum all over your tits and ass. You gasp at the warm droplets coating your skin, already drying. Then the couple pull you up onto your knees, holding their cocks out for you. They are coated in cum, slick and juicy. “Clean us off, naughty girl,” Bakugou gruffly demands. “You caused it, so it’s your responsibility.” 

You do as told, kitten-licking and slurping up the taste of your holes and their cum from their cocks, relishing the soft moans and hushed swears as you do. Once you finish, the two gently lay you on your back and lick you clean too, being extra gentle with your pussy and putting a soft pillow under your sore ass. Your entire body feels sore, but deliciously so. 

The pros then lay side by side with you between them, Bakugou on your right while Kiri takes your left. The redhead snuggles into your backside, his hair tickling your face.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. You definitely made this trip unforgettable, that’s for sure!” He wraps his big arms around you, encasing you in a warm, sweaty embrace. 

Exhaustion makes your brain foggy and you can barely focus on what he is saying to you. “Mmm-hmm,” you sleepily agree. 

Bakugou tsks, wrapping an arm around your neck, allowing his arm to be your pillow. “Such a baby,” he huffs. “Close your eyes. Don’t fight it if ya need to sleep.” 

In your blissed out, sleepy state, you ask the question, “So I can spend the night?” 

The blonde once again tsks, scowling down at you. “What kinda stupid question is that? Why else would we be cuddlin’ your ass?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your forehead, making your skin flush with warmth. 

Kiri chuckles behind you, becoming the big spoon as he squeezes you between himself and Bakugou, protecting you from the darkness and tomorrow. “That’s a yes. You could even stay the entire trip if you wanted to, cutie.” 

He too kisses you, pressing one softly against your cheek. “And Musutafu’s only a plane ride away,” he adds. “Anything’s possible, baby.” 

You sleepily smile into Bakugou’s chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek. That all sounds so nice. The three of you? Together? They, your sexy boyfriends and you, their pretty little girlfriend? It sounds so perfect… 

Yet so unpredictable. Tomorrow is only a sunrise away and the future is uncertain. You know eventually, you will have to go back to your hotel room and face your husband. Face your problems. Face the inevitable crash and burn of your marriage. You know that you will have to return home soon and figure things out from there. 

Everything feels unsure right now, but one thing in your mind that remains as you fall off to sleep is for sure: you’re getting a divorce. 

THE END.