Cheer Up!

gege when i catch you gege

art by: silentsnow777 on ig!

Would love a Story about a pleasureslime that would function as a toy, like it can move itself form itself, etc and you can buy more and fuse them, but then it gets out of control and you become the toy. Non gendered person x slime

Hi darling! I'm so sorry this took so much to answer. But here it is. Hope it was worth the wait.

Tw: heavy dub-con

When the pleasure slime was released into the market you were one of the first ones to get it. You were beyond excited to get your hands on one. And it was great. You never thought so

mething as malleable as slime could give you such amount of pleasure. It was insane in a way that made your brain fuzzy and your hole clench around it. It was the best experience of your life.

So you became addicted.

Addicted to the point where you couldn't help getting a new one. And a new one. And a new one. You stacked them over and over, it was one of the perks of the product. You could get as many as you want and stack them to create a bigger one, one with more functions. One... better. And good lord was it better... It was phenomenal.

It was the experience of a lifetime and you couldn't hold yourself together as you came over it, covered in it. The slime was smooth and prelubed so it was just... perfect. It sucked and probed and poked. You were beyond yourself with it. So much that you got late to work at least three times because you got wrapped up in it to the point of losing sense of reality. It was THAT good.

So you got a new one.

At that point in time the slime was almost as big as you. But that only made it better. It was the best lover you ever had, so pliant and excitable under you, over you, inside of you. It reached parts of you that were unexplored before. It reached every erogenous zone at once and it drove you crazy with pleasure.

So you got more.

It became bigger than you, stronger in a way, but it was so soft. The idea that it could literally consume you drove you into a frenezy of pleasure. But then things turned weird.

At first it was just tiny things, reaching around you without any control, touching you in places you didn't have control over... You didn't mind it that much. Until one day you woke up with the pleasure slime holding you down and fucking into every hole in your body. Your moth gagged, your hole clenching around its girth. It was scary but so, so pleasurable your eyes were rolling into your head.

It fucked you until you were sore. And then some more. Your body held in its mass as you squirmed with what felt like the thousand orgasms in a row. It fucked your throat, your needy hole... And at the same time it worked every single pleasure point in your body. It was maddening, your brain almost to the point of breaking. You didn't know what time it was, where you were or what you were anymore.

You became the sex toy of your sex toy... and you didn't mind it.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

Long Overdue!

Synopsis. Just cóckwarming? Funny, you’ll see who breaks first - him or your poor pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóckwarming, creampíes, puníshments, REALLY NÉEDY BOYS, breéding, MAJOR overstím, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), spítting, they bég, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, absolutely ruíning Ryomen Sukuna, marathon séx, chokíng, jealousy (Toji’s side), mean Geto, spànking, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (sowwy)

A/N. I would say have a lovely week but then I remembered that leaks are coming out so…<3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 47 min.

“B-but, doll…” Toji’s groaning in that raggedly sweet tone, voice cracking ever-so-slightly when your plush walls gift him with another unabashed squeeze. Still unmoving. Torturous. “You’re actin’ like I can’t feel the way that needy pussy of yours is just cryin’ f’me.”

It hasn’t even been an hour, and oh god - Toji had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it out of this alive. No clue as to how he was going to break out of these extra heavy-duty handcuffs customized for him. To fuck up into your heavenly cunt the way you deserved. 

The way he deserved. 

“Sh-shut up.” you scoff, looking down at where you had him pinned down messily on the silken sheets. “Before I put a muzzle on you, too, after that stunt you pulled-”

“Anything.” he’s cutting you off. Syrupy mind just a bit too hazy with the feeling of his weepy tip kissing up against your g-spot and being able to do nothing about it. “Anything oh anything- muzzle me, tie me up- ngh fuckin’ call that loser coworker of yours and make me apologize for all I care. Just needa-” 

Toji’s breath hitches when he squirms pathetically underneath you, biceps bulging when he pulls at those fuzzy pink restraints tied to the bedposts. 

“Jus- want you to- fuckin’-” You’re squealing when you feel his thick, muscled thighs flex to plant his feet flat on the plush mattress, toned pelvis rippling. Body bowing up, up, up- “-move!”

It’s barely even a half-thrust, a grind - nothing in comparison to those long, thorough drags of Toji’s cock that you were used to. But the feeling of your every corner being stretched out so full after staying still for so long has you huffing and puffing in a way that has his swollen cock growing even girthier. 

“It’s been ngh-” you reach blearily for the phone at your bedside table to look at the time. “-47 minutes! Y-you don’t get to act this way, y’know. Not after you were so rude to my coworker when meeting him earlier.” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Toji quirks a proud brow, cockiness seeping into his words now that he had you exactly where he wanted after so long. “No, I wasn’t.” 

You’re babbling needily when your boyfriend’s reaching up to kiss at your bruised lips. Soft and licking at the seam of your petty complaints. “You told him to ‘fuck off’ right to his face, Toji! N’ after he was just being nice.”

“Just nice”, his ass. Toji saw the way he looked at you - and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

So in response, all you’re getting is another buck of his hips like such an animal. Once. Twice. Body curling up into yours to stuff your snug channel full. He’s waiting just until you keen and arch back for more before halting so agonizingly still, letting his painfully hard cock mold your plush walls. 

You have to take a moment to collect yourself at the sensation of his prominent veins rubbing up against those hidden sweet spots only Toji could reach. To stop yourself from fucking back desperately. 

“Dontcha think I’ve hah- already learned my lesson now, c’mon. Look-” Greedy eyes locking down at where you straddled him, your pretty pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick shaft. So so angry, covered in a mouthwateringly glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices. “-bet she wants to be fucked like the slut she is.”

The force of his sharp pelvis has you tumbling face-first first into his chiseled pecs, just enough that Toji’s latching his bullying mouth onto one of your hardened nipples. Smug scar grazing against your sensitive areola, “Besides, is it really my fault?” Another ram, another crash against your ravaged g-spot, pumping in and out like he was addicted to the soft tug of your clingy walls back - now past just cockwarming. Way past. “Please, s’my right to be jealous, doll.” you watch his lewd smirk turn into something grittier. Something that definitely didn’t bode well for your poor cunt. Muffling out, “Sick bastards gotta know when to stay away from my woman.”

Before you’re opening your mouth to retort - or maybe threaten him with tying his legs up, too, so he’s left with only another 40 minutes of cockwarming - a sharp ring of your phone cuts through that heady, hypnotic air. 

Toji only has to angle his head towards the flashing screen on the forgotten phone still dangling limply from your hand, and then his eyes are lighting up with such dangerous delight. “Answer it.”

“Wh-what?” you sputter. “Who is-”

Your coworker. 

“Answer it.”

It’s the slow, sultry push and pull of Toji’s hips that have now got you in such a cockdrunk daze, a soft ah! ah! ah! leaving you with every rhythmic grind. He’s using the handcuffs as leverage to arch his hips off the bed, inching you closer and closer to puff out a feverishly sweet kiss onto your forehead. Whispering gently, “Answer it f’me, doll.”

And no sooner is the soft pad of your shaky thumb swiping across the screen, that tinny voice of your coworkers blaring through the speakers that-

“Hello?”

SNAP!

The handcuffs are hitting the hardwood floors before realization hits you - and in all of three seconds, Toji’s hulking frame is set free. Two rough palms sliding to your hips and just slamming you down the entire length of his throbbing cock. Burying so deep inside your heavenly cunt that you could feel the scratch of his public hair against your clit, Toi’s heavy balls twitching against your ass. And his voice - low and rumbling with need when he’s pulling your whole body weight up, up, up to kiss at his leaky, pink tip. And down. Again. And again and again and-

“Let’s show this fucker how sorry I really am, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As long as you want, darling.

“Are you sure, my love?” Nanami whispers in your ear in a low, satiny purr. The hot water from that candlelit bubble bath he’d lit sloshing around just a bit when two large, rugged hands of his come down to massage your shoulders gently. “S’been a long day.”

And, really, it has. A long day of overly picky clients and an even pickier manager - a long day that your lovely husband was slowly crumbling away bit by bit. Chest rumbling behind yours, legs intertwined with yours in the water, thick cock stuffed deep in your cunt. 

You’re slowly nudged back into reality when he’s planting a lazy, heated trail of open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder. “If you want to sit in silence we can do that, too, darling.”

“No, s’okay, Ken.” It’s all you can do to manage out a hazy shake of your head, looking up from where your back was pulled flushed against his hard, sculpted front. Grinding the curve of your ass back to drag against his abs, skin-on-skin. “Want you.”

Fuck, that has him twitching like a man starved inside you. And the stretch, oh - it made your toes curl in depravity, head spinning at just how much your gummy walls were being molded to the exact shape and size of him. Memorizing every little curve and pattern of lewd throbs along your pussy. 

A low rumbling sound in the back of his throat, heavy balls so so ready and squeezing painfully at your obscene words. 

“But- you know if I go rough on you-”

You kiss his sharp jaw, licking languidly along the long column of his milky throat. Drinking in his heady, masculine scent to murmur, “And I want you now.”

And, well, how could Nanami Kento ever deny his pretty lil’ wife?

Which is why, in all of three seconds, the man himself had you reaching across the bathtub on all fours. Knees weak and shaking like a newborn fawn where he held you up easily by your hips, swollen cock still angry and splitting your poor cunt apart from behind. 

“Whatever my love wants-” you hear Nanami breathe out shakily, moving from the first time since he carried you inside the bathroom to reel every long fucking inch of his girthy cock out, out, out from your sloppy hole. And if you angled your head back just right you could catch that messy glisten of your slick down his shaft. All the way until his fat tip was smearing all over your glossy folds. Waiting. Greedy. “-she will get.”

And his words were so sincere - solid, thorough, just like the dizzying thrust he was gifting your poor cunt with. Stretching that first rim of muscle so wide, feeding your pussy every inch he could give. 

“O-oh-” you moan brokenly, your thighs already shaky with the stimulation of having Nanami squeeze his fat shaft down in bullying thrusts just to fit his mean cock inside. “Oh my god, Ken s’already so much-”

“M’not even halfway in.” he’s hushing away your pretty cries with a line of kisses down your arched spine, finally settling to crash his lips against yours. Bare chest rippling with muscle, “You can take it. You’re my good girl, right? Gonna take my cock until you forget all about that hngh- bad day of yours?‘

It’s like clockwork the way you’re nodding so dazedly, not even sure what you even agreed to until Nanami’s pushing in proud, powerful rams of his hips. Tip so hefty, leaking so much precum down your cervix - down the corners of your sopping slit. 

“You’re so big-” you whine, ass stinging with the harsh smacks into his front. Screwing your glassy eyes shut, “S’too much, ngh-”

“Hey hey, now.” your husband tuts against your ear, the damp metal of his ring cold when he swipes softly at your cheek - refusing, for even a moment, to take off that evidence of his pure devotion to you. “Keep those gorgeous eyes of yours open, my love. Just look-.”

Coaxing those cockdrunk eyes of yours open exactly the way he always did, Nanami only smiles when your kiss-bitten lips drop into a shocked oh! 

Because fuck, it didn’t matter how many times you took him - Nanami was always so massive. So unapologetically obvious when he was inside you. Your puffy folds spread shamefully, that bulging divot of his fat head peeking out, showing you in real time exactly how harshly he was crashing against your g-spot. Bruising. Sloppy.

Over and over and-

“Takin’ me so hah- well.” You mewl at the never-ending gush of praises, every lingering thrust of Nanami’s hips increasing in pace. “Wish you could feel- how wet you are.” He’s sliding a palm down your water-slicked skin, cupping the mess made of your cunt. “-how tight. How-” Body convulsing when you feel Nanami’s wedding ring so chilly against the heated part of your clit. Being rubbed into it over and over when he’s rolling the pad of his thumb in slow, sleazy circles. “-perfect. How perfect you are f’me.”

“K-Ken-” you’re whining, and Nanami already knows what you’re about to say - of course, he does. Immediately pinning your two arms behind your back with one of his much bigger ones, holding you upright to fuck into your dripping cunt harsher. More calculated. “M’close- m’close m’so-”

“So cum f’me.” he hisses, letting your fingers dance up to tug and graze his undercut all you pleased. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

You don’t even realize it when you do - too caught up with every crashing kiss against your bruised g-spot. Every spike of white-hot pleasure when Nanami’s massive cock massages your walls so right. Fucking you over and over through your high. 

Until all you can do is scream out his name, until all you can do is kneel there and take it while he’s absolutely ravaging your cunt - no thoughts of whatever bad day at work on your mind now, only filled with Nanami and the need for more, more, more-

Until you’re turning to hum deviously, “Your turn.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - HOURS

Times like this, Geto Suguru loved to tease you, loved to push the limits and see exactly what would make that pretty lil’ mind of yours tick. 

Times like now - when he had you laying so peacefully on top of him, your lolling head moving gently up and down with his heavy breathing, his legs dangling off the other end of the couch, eyes firmly trained on the shitty action movie playing on-screen.

It would be almost wholesome, if it wasn’t for-

“Sugu…”

Ah, there it was. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Geto tries to hold back that dark glint in his voice. A smirk curling the edges of his strained words when you clench your clingy walls around him as a sort of punishment, shifting desperately. “Don’t like the movie?”

You’re hissing out through firmly clenched teeth, tugging on his skin-tight shirt to get your beloved boyfriend’s attention - but, alas, it doesn’t work. “The movie’s not the problem-” And lo and behold, you’re fucking your trembly hips back so deep against where he’d buried himself inside you about half an hour ago. Ass shifting on top of his heavy balls, clit throbbing on top of those neat tufts of black, your familiar movements trying to get him to massage his fat, weepy veins against your sweet spots again. “-it’s your fuckin’-”

“Ah ah, language, my girl.” he’s whispering, still not sparing your cockdrunk self a glance. Despite the way his achy head nudges in desperation against the bullseye of your g-spot in a way he knows will have you keening. Leaky divot meeting your bundle of nerves making you go insane after cockwarming him for so long. “S’jus’ getting to the best part.”

Fuck, you didn’t care - didn’t even remember the name of the movie you two were watching at this point. 

But what you did remember was the way this exact scenario played out last time - when Geto decided to really pull out and continue with the movie marathon as if nothing happened. Just the memory has your needy pussy twinging in annoyance, trying even harder to suck him up depravedly. 

And yet, all you can manage out is a few grumbles about “getting him back soon” and forcing your eyes back on the screen. Only gives occasional nudges and grinds down to nestle him cozier against your plush walls.

And you succeed.

That is, almost. 

Until it gets to that erotic scene. A hazy blinking up at Geto told you he already knew this would be in the movie, high cheekbones flushed, watching your every single reaction from the corner of his dark, dewy eyes. 

You’re teetering precariously on top of him when his achy dick twitches even harder in interest. Your slick coming down in hot oozes that soak his entire bottom half. Glistening in the light of the tv and helping you slide your sloppy pussy across his fat length. 

“Suguru…”

Full name? Damn, he was in some trouble.

But, like the absolute bully he is, Geto only lets out a low whistle. A large, soft palm coming down to knead at the fat of your ass, stretching and pulling to help you hump your pussy even deeper. “Some awful actin’, huh?” he grunts, eyes still locked on the movie. Hips stuttering up as if unconsciously - primally, “Bet we could do a whole lot better.”

But, two can play that game.

“We could.” you whine syrupy and pitched higher than normal with lust. “Such a hngh- shame, though, right?” And at his surprised look of confusion, you’re plowing on smugly, “Because you’re on a sex ban for the next month.”

The reaction is immediate - pained eyes snapping onto yours, his pretty pink lips dropping into a shocked oh! and Geto’s spouting out unabashed, “Awww, c’mon, gorgeous don’t be like that. Wasn’t serious, wasn’t—” Panic veiling his actions when you bluff moving to get off. Yet, he plays right into your hands, heavy fingers sitting you back down on his cock to meet in a shallow thrust, molding at your elastic walls. Claiming, “-as if I’d ever deny you, gorgeous.”

And you can’t get another word out before he’s steadily using all those hours at the gym to his advantage to bounce you along his lap in a steady fucking. Slamming right up to where your pussy lips smashed into his hip bone.

“You’re so weak, Sugu–”

Hell, so what if he was the one that broke first? 

Oh, he can’t deny though, the way just how needy you were - how you were pouting up at him with those sultry, beautiful eyes of yours to “just fuck me right” - has him throbbing achingly inside your heavenly walls. Stretching out that gummy channel to its limits, until you could feel every ridge and curve along his massive length. 

“Mhm, m’weak.” Geto rasps, arms tightening around your waist to hover your entire body up. “But- only for you- ngh, only for-” And he’s barely even stuttering his hypnotic cadence before spreading his legs firmer, moving his quick, bullying thrusts enlarging your filthy hole. Geto’s abs burning, thighs straining. “-you n’ this pretty cunt, y’know.” Like a - very overdue - little apology for toying with you so much, one of his deft hands dip down to roll and tweak your puffy clit between two slender fingers. Promising. Faster. Flashing a look in your eyes that told you he was about to make it so you couldn’t walk for a week, at least. “So you better not think of hah- something stupid like a sex ban.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 13 min.

Choso couldn’t tear his greedy gaze away, couldn’t stop aching for more and more of that delicious stretch of your gummy walls around him. Feeling so lecherous with every beat of silence spent devouring the pretty sight of you. 

The way you were splayed out like such a slut for him on your once-fresh satin sheets, bent into such a mean mating press he didn’t think himself capable of. Laying your boneless body out in that obscene pool of cum and slick, only spreading farther and farther with each twitch of his poor, overstimulated balls. 

“Ch-Cho!” your honeyed, broken gasp him blinking back those big fat tears of sensitivity. And fuck he swears he could feel that lewd slosh of his seed coating against your gummy walls in a sticky sheen. “Cho, why are you- ngh! Getting hard again? It’s only been about ten minutes-”

That has him looking down in surprise, ravaged raw lips falling into a fucked-out oh! at that sight of your puffy folds being spread further and further with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his achy cock. Bulging. Slobbering down your slit to coat him all glistening and ready to slide in again. 

“One more. Had enough of waitin’ around.” Choso rasps, words slurring out so quiet that you almost think you imagined it. “O-one more time, baby–”

He’s leaving no room for you to answer - for you to even think, to breathe before giving your sopping wet cunt an experimental thrust. Dewy eyes falling half-lidded and dangerous when he watches the way his cum gushes down your thighs in warm dredges at the simple gesture. 

“I thought-” your nails rake down his toned back to leave red, angry lines of pleasure. “I thought you said we were jus’ gonna hah- cockwarm right now, Cho? To make sure it takes?”

And it was true, he wanted to make sure you don’t waste a drop of his seed, to have you painted white with him for as long as he possibly could - well, maybe partially out of your boyfriend’s own perverted desire. But, really, what’s the harm in a little self-indulgence?

“Please! Please I know I know, baby.” he’s pleading. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss the glossy pout of your candied lips so soothingly - missing, a few times with how utterly wrecked you had him. “But you can hngh- take one more, right? Just one more, f’me? Please?”

One more - he’s whispering out that little manta over and over with each gifting, filthy crash against your g-spot. Fat tip so soaked with all the mess of your juices that it slides a thorough line right across your bruised cervix. That makes you keen, it makes you cry, it makes you just arch your back off the mattress to push you even deeper down Choso’s swollen cock. 

You mewl when he’s licking a long, languid stripe up the sultry teartracks down your cheeks, “Yes, but- but Cho you should rest-”

As if that would stop him - not when every shred of his sanity is dancing away from him to the smooth staccato of his rolling hips. 

Choso hisses when his bruised lips are crashing against yours, entire body jolting because the sheer stimulation after only this long since cumming is driving him insane. Too much. 

You buck your hips wildly when he’s angling his toned pelvis just right to smack that divot on his thick head onto your already-raw sensitive spots. Convulsing uncontrollably to let out a few wispy globs of cum that fill you up from the bottom of your pussy - an orgasm you don’t think Choso even realizes. “F-fuck- did you just-”

The pool grows even wider.

“Yes- no.” he gasps, before immediately reeling his hips back and forth again like a man starved. “Maybe. But one more- just one more, baby. Please.” Your sloppy make out is now tinged with the salty taste of tears - both yours and his. Because with each slow, cautious drag of his cock marking your elastic walls, a fresh wave of sensitivity hits him. “Please- wanna cum. Need to cum. Please please please one more- please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging at this point - you or him. Holding such a vice-like grip on the easy curve of your hips to keep you from running away while he fucks you into the mattress for the nth time tonight. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck can feel you in so deep.” you murmur hazily, bringing a hand up to draw an invisible line around the middle of your stomach. “Can feel you right in here-”

“Oh yeah? That so?” he’s smirking uncharacteristically. “Soon ‘nough m’gonna have you hngh filled all the way up until-” He drags a thick, lazy index finger of his right up the sensitive bud of your clit. Up, up, up to wrap a large palm at your throat, “-here.”

And you can’t help but think he looks so pretty - so absolutely wrecked with his dark hair untied, sticking in stray strands to his forehead. Flushed to the absolute roots from the apples of his cheekbones, his droopy eyes. Biceps bulging out attractively when he squeezes around your racing pulse. 

Somehow, you manage to choke out, “Do it then.”

That’s all it takes for your poor, absolutely ruined boyfriend to cum. Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop. 

Greedy gaze falling shut so sensually when your gummy walls squeeze the soul out of him, drinking up every single rope after rope of his hot seed. Sticky, oozing globs that thin out into nothing but blanks - and he’s still fucking your heavenly cunt through his high. 

Still in the throes of his orgasm when he whispers, “Baby- my baby, are we really sure it took?” Fingers squeezing tighter around your gasping throat, “Maybe we should try one more time.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Honestly? 1 hour 26 min.

“Hngh-” you’re hiccuping, the front of your drenched panties leaving a lewd smear of glossy slick all over Sukuna’s abs. Dragging out his name in such a honeyed, needy whine, “Sukuna—”

With a growl, he’s gripping a fistful of your ass, holding your squirming hips so flush against his toned pelvis that he could feel every minute quiver of your puffy pussy lips. Every new bead of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his front and onto the sobbing cock stuffed still inside your gripping cunt, “What, woman?”

You’re gifting him with a pouty kiss, the kind he’d never admit makes his painfully tight balls squeeze in depravity, “Don’t hafta be so mean.”

“M’not.” he grumbles, and yet gifts the mound of your cunt with a sharp smack! of his large palm. Soothing over the burning brand, “S’jus’ that someone decided to- hngh-” Muscled pecs rumbling with the memory from just a few hours ago, “-make me miss my morning meeting by being such a slut, hm? Just crying to ‘feel, tha’s enough.’”

That work meeting was long done now, having finished about half an hour ago from what he could spy from that clock across your bedroom. Doesn’t matter, as CEO he could miss all the fucking meetings he wanted - having a softer spot for you than anyone, anything. 

But that didn’t mean he’d stop teasing you - toying with you until you were begging for twice as long as that meeting was supposed to last.

“So, really-” his voice cuts through those needy little grinds of your hips. Mindless, slow - trying not to draw attention to yourself as you rocked yourself slowly up and down Sukuna’s fat hilt. Caught red-handed, it’s all you can do to squeal when he’s digging those long, black nails into your heated skin, holding you so agonizingly still. “-m’jus’ doing exactly what you asked, brat.”

The way you kick and wrangle your legs have him leering even wider, “What? Heh, got a problem with that?”

“Yes!” you’re keening, tightening your legs around his waist until you could feel the balls of your feet digging into the tiny dimples at the back of his spine. “Wan’ed you to ngh- fuck me- not- not-”

His tip is swiping across every inch of your sweet spot, pressing in so hard but doing nothing about it. Teasing you with such feral twitches against your tight channel, “You jus’ wanted me inside you n’ this cockwarming s’all you’re gonna get.” 

“Please?”

This earns you another rough slap on your bulging pussy, the pads of Sukuna’s five fingers branding onto your stretched-out swollen folds. Lingering a bit too long around your neglected clit. Assessing. 

And, suddenly, you know it means that smug façade of his is crumbling bit by bit - right along with his sanity. Gruffing out a ragged, “I said-”

And then you squeeze - oh, you’re clamping down your snug walls in such a way that has Sukuna cutting himself off with a throaty moan. The greedy gaze of his darkened red eyes flying open, head thrown back when his hips traitorously buck into you.

“Fuck- fuck, you little minx.” he spits into the soft kiss you’re planting on his lips. Glaring at you despite the way his weepy tip coats your cunt in an appreciative glossy sheen, “You think you’re sooo fuckin’ slick, huh? You think you hah- won this? M’still not movin’, woman.”

Batting your lashes up so deceivingly innocently, “I have no idea what you mean, Kuna–” 

Shit, the syrupy sweet sound of that sinful nickname sends wracking shudders all down Sukuna’s hulking body. Biting his lower lip to hold back a raspy moan, “Don’t.”

You’re only pressing your bare chest against his even closer, draping yourself all over like a second skin. Blowing a feverish puff of hot air down his steadily reddening ears, “I have no-” Pressing a chaste peck right at his cheek, his forehead. “-idea-” On the edge of his pink locks - exactly where you knew he loved but would never ever tell you. “-what you mean-” Before finishing off with the final blow, to thumb open his angry mouth. Eyeing in amusement at how easily he’s letting his tongue loll out already - pussydrunk and all ready for you to spit a steady glob of saliva once. Twice. Wiping off those intentional splatters at the corner of those pretty pink lips, “-Kuna.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret this.”

As if to prove his point, Sukuna is immediately pulling out - taking only a split second to flip you over to press your back against his broad chest. The bed creaks in protest as he sheaths himself inside your gooey cunt in one, harsh thrust. 

All of it - making sure you swallow every thick inch by fucking inch of that same cock you’ve been begging for all morning. He doesn’t waste a second before spreading his knees to smack those sharp hip bones against yours again. Doesn’t even wait for you to adjust. 

“You’re such a slut when you- hah- beg f’me, y’know that. Don’t know why you bother with that good girl act but-” Slap! For a moment, you wonder whether he smacked you - only to realize it’s the sheer power of his thrusts. Unforgiving, long drags in and out to fill you up in places you didn’t even know existed, bruising your flesh. “-at least I ngh- get to bring out the nasty bitch in you.”

Fucking you so relentles now. Your brain’s too fuzzy to even call him out on his little insult, managing out only choked up, “F-fuck you’re so- s’too good- Kuna.”

Those moans have him drunk, one set of thick fingers reeling you in by your pretty throat. So thankful he chose this position, because now he gets to fully let the ecstasy take over his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, face tinted a delicate pink, so fucking hot where he buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

“J-just shut up and take it, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 2 min. (and 15 seconds!)

“F-fuck-” he breathes out unsteadily. Blue eyes falling shut as he throws his head back in pleasure, and his lips have that freshly-kissed look to them when he’s groaning. “Fuuuck, m’sorry m’sorry. You’re gonna be the hngh- fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Now, the great Gojo Satoru already had an inkling about this fact by the time you’d caught him rifling through that batch of chocolates you’d been saving up for a week. Brows furrowed, foot tapping in anger. Whoopsies. 

And he already knew it’d be true when you’d shoved him down on the nearby couch and scolded him in that stern, sexy voice of yours that went straight to his aching dick. Toying with your glistening pussy while you straddled his toned lap, telling him to dare not move “or else.”

And fuck, he swear he saw the gates of heaven open up right then and there when you actually took him. 

But shit, now, Gojo didn’t consider himself a weak man - far from it, actually, he was the strongest and he knew it. And yet he’s never felt so utterly fucking helpless with his throbbing cock enveloped deep in your cunt where he couldn’t see, freshly leaky, angry tip hitting down that familiar path to your g-spot. But staying there. 

Unmoving.

So fucking agonizing that even you’re noticing the twitch of Gojo’s fingers on the plush of your hips, the way his jaw is clenching so tight. Raising an amused brow, “Toru?”

“Y-yes?” he yelps, voice a few octaves higher than normal. Jolting - and the movement is enough to cause a slight shift inside your dripping wet pussy. Tremors running down his spine at that sinful little taste of what he’s been craving so badly.

“Toru, you’re already such a mess.” you manage to giggle, purposefully grinding down in smooth gyrations that have his fat head drawing wet circles over and over around your sweet spots. “N’ I just put it in.”

“No!” Gojo’s whining hotly, big fat tears of sheer need pricking at his eyes. “No no no s’been more than long enough-” Gliding two large, pale hands to smooth over the globes of your ass, groping you to shove even more of his angry inches into your swallowing pussy. Ragged breaths coming out in gusts, “-please. Please.”

His words are breaking so sluttily at the end, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his pale throat when he’s lifting his impatient hips off of the couch - once. Twice. Desperately searching for some friction.

“Satoru, if you can’t handle cockwarming for more than two minutes…”

“Please!” And he looks so pretty begging like this, gasping out wet pleas into your open mouth. “I’ve hah- l-learned my lesson, my girl. Don’t hold out on me now.” Powerful hips stuttering up like he was hesitant on pissing you off any more. “Said m’sorry- see?”

You whirling to look down at where Gojo was lolling his head down in such a pussydrunk way, only to be met with the lewd sight of your snug cunt being split apart by his massive cock. Glossy lips spread, bulging - struggling with the effort to accommodate his girthy, pulsing shaft. The stretch.

The sight is something that makes you squeeze your clingy walls to take the shape of him - so tight that Gojo swears he could feel his breath being cut off. 

He hisses, words coming out so pained. Eyes half-lidded in wonderment at the way that tiny hole of yours gets stretched so obscenely around his thick hilt. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Thought you’d like that- yeah- yeah, just like that.” And you’re barely getting the chance to brace yourself before his hips are bucking up wildly. Like he was out of control - like he didn’t even know what he was doing right now. “S-sorry, said m’sorry. Fuck, m’sorry- sooo fuckin– sorry.”

Every breathy apology is punctuated by a heavy thrust, now fully forgetting that little punishment of his. IMean now. Pushing past that feeble resistance to fuck you all the way till you could feel that upwards curve of his dick branding against your cervix, your lungs. Over and over and- 

“Hngh- ah, Toru!” you’re squealing when he dances a long hand down to rub over your pretty clit. Soft palms wet with a gloss of your slick with each tight circle. Again. And again and again and- “Y-you’re still not forgiven, y’know.”

It wasn’t very convincing - not when your greedy hips are limply bucking down to try and meet his rough cadence. 

“I know.” he grits. “I know I know- fuck, I know.” Spitting straight into your sagging open mouth, he’s swiping at the lewd mess, “N’ I’ll buy ya more- buy ya the hngh- whole fuckin’ ch-chocolate store if you want.” Heavy balls smacking against your ass, pushing in powerful rams of his tip into your g-spot. Rambling drunkenly to himself now, “Just wanna- wanna-”  Tears of sensitivity are streaming down his face now, as wet as the mess he was making of your poor pussy. And it takes only a few anticipated, purposeful thrusts before- “-cum.”

You barely have the time to even register those thick, hot globs f cum being stuffed into the very bottom of your pussy. Filling you up with Gojo’s sin when he’s throwing his head back to moan, hips bucking up, up, up to paint your deep core white. 

“No no no no- no-”  he’s babbling, still shooting up sticky streams of seed inside you. Fingers so erratic on your cunt now,  Back arching up off the cushions to ram into you like some little ragdoll, from the very tip of his goading cock. “You have to cum- need you to cum, sweetheart.”

You’re just milking him, clinging onto him so tight it’s hard to crash his ruddied, sobbing tip even harder into your g-spot. 

It’s almost like he’s forcing it out of you, wrenching out a hazy orgasm where you’re seeing stars behind your eyes. A loud whine of your boyfriend’s name leaving your swollen lips when he’s fucking you through peak after peak-

“Is this a good time to tell ya I ate those leftovers you were savin’ up, too, or do I hafta beg for forgiveness again?”

“...”

A/N. Listen, I know that Sukuna would be a TYRANT CEO but it’s for the aesthetic ok.

Plagiarism not authorized.

“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”

Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡

Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.

The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.

As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.

Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.

“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”

“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.

“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”

“There’s a ring on your finger.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”

“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”

“I am.”

“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.

“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”

“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”

Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.

“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”

“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.

“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.

“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”

“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”

“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.

After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.

“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”

“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”

“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”

Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.

“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”

“Okay, we-”

“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.

While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.

Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.

He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.

He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.

He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.

And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.

But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.

And he felt loved.

— PART III —

Hello hello

I just read your new Bakugou's oneshot and i was wondering if ypu could do semething similar with dadzawa.

His daughter invited over a friend but he try to force hiself in her and he almost do it but Aizawa arrives from patrolling just in time to stop it.

🧡🩶🖤💜🩵🤍

(This is probably good to be pretty short, sorry it took so long, this actually happened to someone I knew and was close to but no one stepped in and stopped it)

Trigger Warning: contains allusions to rape and drugging someone beneath the cut

Aizawa x Daughter Reader: Bad Friend

You had a guy friend who was seemingly a really good guy. You both got along really well and had a bunch of similar interests. You both had been wanting to see the latest season of your shared favorite tv show, The Dead Walk. However, his tv was broken so he didn’t have anything to watch it on. You decided to sneak and invite him over when Aizawa wasn’t home. Aizawa had a strict rule about no friends over when he isn’t home unless he knows both the friend and the friend’s parents.

Aizawa was on patrol when you snuck your guy friend into your house. You guys were supposed to watch the show, you got popcorn and snacks ready when he brought drinks. Once you guys got comfortable you started the show. You were half way through the third episode when you got up to go to the bathroom. When you got back, you continued the show unaware of your now roofied drink. By the 5th episode, you started to feel dizzy and sluggish. You were going to get up to check yourself in the bathroom when you fell over.

You quickly realized something was wrong. You looked to your friend only to see a smirk on his face. You tried to crawl away from him and reach your phone to text your dad, but your ex friend kicked your phone away. He then started grappling with you, trying to get you undressed and on your back. What you both didn’t know is that during your struggles, Aizawa had texted you he was on his way home. He had gotten off his patrol shift early and wanted to let you know.

When Aizawa unlocked the front door he saw an unknown boy on top of his nearly completely naked daughter. He didn’t take any moment to ask questions. He immediately restrained the boy and punched him hard enough to knock him out. He then grabbed a blanket and threw it over you before calling the police. Once the police were on their way, he walked over to you and scooped you up and helped you into your bedroom to get dressed. While you were getting dressed he talked to you through the door.

He reassured you that you’re not in any trouble because he feels that you don’t need a punishment after this. (This was far more of a punishment in his mind.) Aizawa helped you get yourself together and once the police came he helped them arrest your ex-friend. After you told the police your story, they asked if you wanted to press charges against him and you said yes. When Aizawa wanted you to go to the hospital to get checked you agreed. The doctors told you that it would wear off and they made sure everything was good before letting you go home.

That night Aizawa took you home and cleaned up the the living room. You begged him to stay and sleep in the same room as you to which he agreed. You both decided to camp out in the living room and he let you eat an entire quart sized container of your favorite ice cream. You both watched your favorite movie to which he fell asleep a quarter of the way through. That night you slept well knowing your dad was ready to protect you.

Hi! Could you please do a mha fic in which Aizawa has a teenage daughter who do drugs but he found out because of one of her friends?

Thankss, btw i really love your writing

Thanks so much! I'm glad you enjoy my writing

Talk to Me (Aizawa x Daughter reader)

Nervous, that's how you felt as you slowly pushed the front door of your home open. As you did, it squeaked a bit, causing you to wince. You stepped inside, looking around the living room. Luckily, it didn't seem like your father was awake. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you shut the front door, letting out a sigh of relief. Now all you had to do was make it to your bedroom without being seen. You made your way down the hallway, but as you passed the doorway leading to the kitchen, you were suddenly stopped by a familiar voice.

"Where have you been?" Your father asked, startled, you turned your head to see your dad sitting at the kitchen table with a serious look on his face. You could feel your heart start to race, you had been caught.

"I-I" you began to stutter, trying to come up with a convincing lie.

"I was out with friends and lost track of time" you finally found the words. You were silently hoping your father would believe you. However, judging by the expression on his face, he didn't.

"Sit down" he spoke, gesturing to the empty chair. Part of you wanted to just run up to your room and lock your door, but you knew better than that. Becoming more nervous, you entered the kitchen and took a seat across from your dad. For a moment, the two of you just sat there, an uncomfortable silence settling in the room.

"Tell me the truth, where were you?" Your dad finally asked. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid the conversation. Your father waited, his expression never changing. After he realized that you weren't going to give him an answer, he sighed.

"If you aren't going to tell me, fine. I already know" he told you. Your eyes went wide as you stared at him, you thought you had hidden it well, how did your father find out about what you had been doing.

"At first I didn't want to believe it when your friend told me you had been doing drugs" he spoke. You frowned, you knew your friends had been worried. You weren't mad they had said something, you felt ashamed more than anything.

"I-" you started to say something, yet your words got caught in your throat. You could feel tears building up in your eyes. Suddenly, your father stood up. You expected him to yell, to tell you how disappointed he was. But, to your surprise, you felt your father wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and you burst out crying. Your father simply held you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

"Whatever is going on, I'm here for you. We'll get through this together" he spoke as you began to cry harder.

widowed nanami who quits management job and opens a bakery after your name when you die. usually people try to forget their pain, and it is a human emotion to avoid things that bring them discomfort. but nanami kento defies that psychology.

people come every now and then pondering at the art on the walls. you always loved lilies so he drew them himself. he is not very artistic and the lines are a bit crooked, but it is still alluring.

he loves you to the point he dedicated a day in his bakery after you. cheesecake day. because it was the first thing he baked for you at the start of your relationship and you loved it so much. on this day, he prepares all kinds of cheesecake you adored. anything grabs attention of youngsters and social media quickly so they promote his shop and soon there is a big line outside waiting for the famous cheesecake. you'd be so happy if you were there.

he never wanted to forget you to be honest. what is the point in letting go of the one thing that keeps him alive? you are his every thought. every feeling. without you he is just a man with flesh and bones. no heart.

he has your engagement and vacation pictures mounted on the wall. when the customers ask how are you doing? he just smiles and goes "she's resting. i'll be next to her soon. i'll be home."

sunflowers

pairing bakugou katuski x f! reader status: standalone, one-shot, completed wc: 17k

summary: there you stand at the beginning of the world, with you and your sunflowers; your lovely liar's smile. contains: childhood frenemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining

author's note: canon-compliant but i bend it; early childhood and then up to season 3. also cross-posted to ao3, and a repost from a now deactivated account. please also check out this lovely art by @/jisokai. thank u endlessly beloved!

The first time you meet Bakugou Katsuki, you are six-turning-seven, and you remember it well. Not just because it’s the first day of school, or even that it’s your birthday. Rather, you remember it because of him , and though you think you would rather die than admit it, there is some part of you⏤ a more rational part⏤ that can temper itself down to acknowledge the fact.

You remember it well, because that morning, your mother makes sure to doll you up extra pretty. She dons you in a frilled dress like it is your armor, taking extra care with your hair, its bows, and she does: so much that there is an extra skip to your step as you walk. You don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. But you still make sure to say your thank yous to all the unfamiliar faces that compliments you with gummy smiles and a not-so-quiet, conspiratorial grin. “It’s my birthday!” 

You remember the way your cheeks hurt from forcing the wideness of it, the way you think it has started to sound like a mantra. You remember smiling, nonetheless, at his friend, as he wishes you a happy birthday! in return⏤ you are smiling at his friend, and not him.

You remember it well, because the first time you ever meet him, he looks you up and down, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and dares to call you ugly. 

If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. Already, your new friends are tensing for the inevitable confrontation. “You can’t just say that to her,” Sueko says, her eyes already narrowing in a glare.

“And who the hell are you, extra?” The crimson-eyed boy scowls right back. 

The other girl wilts a bit, but her glare remains set.

You decide, right there and then, that she is your new best friend. 

You smile. If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. But you don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. So you only give him your kindest smile, because your mother told you to play nice in the morning, as she brushed out your hair. You make sure to give him a once over, glancing down, and then up. 

“It’s okay!” Your eyes curve, ingratiatingly polite; ingratiatingly sweet. “Some people are just born blind. And stupid.”

“HAH?” His reaction is exactly what you hoped for, and it’s almost too easy . “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING⏤” 

The slight quirk of your mouth is amused, but you only turn, pointedly, to your new best friend. “Any chance you’re free this weekend? Let’s hang out.” 

She stutters an answer, eyes darting between you, and the blond you know is seething behind you, if the glare he’s practically boring into the back of your head means anything.

You tilt your head to the side. A little inquiry, a little push. “So?”

Hands slam down on your desk, cutting out her squeaked yes . You jump a little at the sound, your eyes widening⏤ both a little bit at the sound, and how close his face suddenly is. All of a sudden, you’re glad you didn’t call him ugly right back⏤ it would have sounded petty, after all, and almost certainly would have bit you right in the foot, considering how this crimson-eyed boy is so clearly not.

“I’m talking to you.” Well. You think, he’d probably be a great deal prettier if wasn’t glaring down at you, face contorted in what seems like half snarl, half scowl. 

His friend adds, a little bit placatingly. “Bakugou-san’s not stupid. He’s really smart, actually, always been top of the class. He’s really cool!” 

You note the way the class eyes him, the way the blond’s eyeing the door. He grunts. “I also have twenty-twenty vision.” His chin raises, arrogance in the set of his features, a bit calmer at the praise, but also a touch quieter, almost a bit wary. 

The door opens. He glances back, just as a man walks in, old enough that you assume that he is your teacher. 

It takes effort to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across your features. “Are you sure?” You ask instead, completely straight-faced. ( You should really consider acting, you think. You’re practically a genius! ) You simper, a hand covering your mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

It’s almost too easy, you think, the way he explodes, literally. 

“YOU WANNA FIGHT, EXTRA?” Miniature blasts pepper the table, and you might have thought it intimidating, if it’s not for the way your sensei is stalking over, looking almost as murderous as the boy himself. “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

You coo a little, fearless with the backing of your newfound supporter. “You’re really scary. That’s illegal , you know.” 

He opens his mouth. But then⏤ “Bakugou. Seeing as it’s the first day, you won’t be getting detention.” His mouth closes mutely. You grin a little at the way he’s being pulled away from your desk, fingers still clutching at the edges of it⏤ by the scruff of his collar, and somewhat like a dog, you think.

His eyes flash, a little bit angry, a little bit dangerous. He points one grubby finger in your direction. “She started it!” 

The sensei also pins you with a stern look. “The next time this happens, the both of you’ll be staying after class to clean, as detention. Am I clear?” 

You gape at both of them. It’s half genuine, half not. You think this verdict is a little unfair. The boy grins, smug.

A complaint is on the tip of your tongue, then you see the sensei’s expression:  deadpan, tired, and unsympathetic.  You sober up, frowning a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, sensei. I’ll try.” 

The crimson-eyed boy is still glaring at you, a little victorious, a little smug, but with a gleam in his eyes. This is war, they seem to say, silent and from across the room.

Little does he know, it has been, ever since the moment he decides to look you up and own, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and calls you ugly .

You blow him a kiss.

He jolts. The face he makes is obviously a frown of disgust. 

The sensei straightens. You smile ingratiatingly, turning away.

This is war , his eyes seem to promise, and really, you can’t help but agree. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your revenge is served not even three days later, on a Saturday evening, and you think it is the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

You have your father to thank for it, actually. The boy, whose name you learn is Bakugou Katsuki, is something of a mini celebrity at your school. 

This means that the surface level things are easy to find⏤ he has anger issues, an explosive Quirk, and is smart , consistently at the top of the class. ( You frown a little when they tell you. These are all things you already know, and the only new information⏤ he likes spicy food ⏤ isn’t helpful in the slightest. ) But this also means that, knowing his temper, there are very few willing to actively take your side, and much more openly against you. You are the new girl, the outlier, and though he can’t quite make you an outcast⏤ you and your horde of girl-followers ( bought with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ he has enough friends, or rather sycophants , that will ignore you in the hallways, or mutter names at you.

The boy in question doesn’t, though.

He storms up to your desk the second day. You are chatting with your friends, as he slams his hands on the desk and snarls: “ Fight me. ” 

Catching your pencil just before it falls, you frown up with him. “What ever happened to: hi, hello, how are you?” 

“Hi, hello, how are you.” He sneers. “Scared?” 

“No, and my answer is no.”

His scowl deepens. “So you are scared.” 

“I’m a healer.” You lift your chin in outrage, affronted. “I’m not violent.”

“Nah. You’re just an extra.” 

Internally, you seethe. First ugly, and now an extra. You have never been called such things in your life. You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue. 

The sensei walks in. 

It dies in your throat, Bakugou’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He turns away, head held high; arrogant and condescending, having won this encounter by a mile. 

Wrath boils in your ears, but you tamp it down, expressionless. Your pencils are carefully aligned, your notebook opened with just a little more force than necessary. Internally, you promise yourself, he’ll get what’s coming to him. You will make sure of it. 

You get your chance soon enough on a Saturday evening, dolled up again in a dress your mother painstakingly picked out for you, your hair pressed into careful curls. Your father had told you: your family had been invited to dinner by a friend he’d met at work, and that they have a son in the same grade as you, in the same school. 

You had shrugged. So long as there’s a chance their son would be willing to join your Anti-Bakugou Society ( consisting only of you at the moment ), you don’t particularly mind.

“Play nice,” Your mother reminds you now, as you stand before the door; your father knocking on it. There is a bouquet of sunflowers clutched in your hands, matching the color of your dress, and you only scrunch your nose up a little at her. 

“I’m always nice.” 

Your mother doesn’t get a chance to respond, because then there’s a⏤ Katsuki, get the door! ⏤ along with an answering⏤ “SHUT UP, OLD HAG! I’M GETTING IT!”⏤ and then, you blink.

The name sounds rather familiar. The voice, too. 

The door opens. You stare, wide-eyed, as a head of blond hair enters your vision, familiar and crimson-eyed.

He’s just as stunned as you are, as you watch, with no small amount of delight, as he takes one look at you, and then the sunflowers you hold in your hands, and sneezes. 

Christmas has come early, you think. “Katsuki! This is your house?” You step a little closer, a sickly sweet grin on your face. 

He dodges the sweep of your bouquet. A pity, you think, but you are successful: he only sneezes all the harder.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you… by any chance allergic to sunflowers?” 

Your mother gasps, tearing the bouquet from your hands. She had been the one to pick them out.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know the answer: as soon as they’re taken away from his immediate vicinity, his sneezes lessen.  

Your mother had been the one to pick them out, and you had disliked the way they looked. But you decide, there and in the moment, that they are your favorite flower. 

He straightens. His nose is still red, and there is murder in his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?” 

His mother sweeps in, pinching him by the ear. “You will not address our guests that way.” She hisses, before looking up at the three of you, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to teach him manners, I swear⏤”

“No worries at all, Bakugou-san.” Your mother says, correcting herself at the other woman’s oh, just call me Mitsuki! She pinches your ear in turn. “This one is much the same. A righteous demon, she is.” You narrow your eyes a little at her. 

The blonde laughs, and the way she ruffles her son’s hair is terribly fond. “That’s just part of their charm, I suppose.” 

He hisses up at her. She hisses right back. 

You love her, you think.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She straightens, blinking. “Please come in. Masaru’s in the kitchen, just setting up⏤”

Your parents walk in first, complimenting the decor. Mitsuki beams at them, and down at you. “Masaru tells me the two of you go to the same school,” She says. “Have the two of you met before?” 

You say: “Yes!” at the same time he gives a flat, but resounding, “No.” 

He glares daggers into the side of your head. You grin. “We’re in the same class, and he’s my best friend!” You exclaim, the lie rolling easily off your tongue.

“No the fuck I’m not.” 

“Language, Katsuki!” Mitsuki reaches for his ear again, her face the picture of delight. “I’m so happy you’re finally making friends!” 

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” 

She gasps, affronted, looking like she wants to tear him a new one. You smile. Your parents look on, utterly lost. “It’s okay, Mitsuki-san. That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you angel. ” And from the look on her face, one might have thought she truly believed it. She whips around to glare at her son. He glares back. “I don’t know how she puts up with you, but you’d better treat her well.” You grin at him from behind, terribly smug, and terribly victorious. 

She turns around, and your smile is pretty again, pleasant and soft.

Mitsuki coos at you. You think the dichotomy between the way she talks to the both of you is like heaven and earth. “Come over to our house more often. I’d love to have you over anytime!” 

“HAH? WHAT⏤” 

“We wouldn’t want to trouble you, Mitsuki-san.” Your mother says, assertively. She is shooting you the look , the one that means she knows what you’re up to. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” She dismisses the statement with a wave of her hand. “Katsuki has few enough friends as it is.” 

Your father laughs, ever the mediator. “We’ll have to invite you over next time as well. We live just down the street.” He brightens. “Actually, seeing as they’re classmates, they could maybe walk together in the mornings?” 

Your mother’s grip tightens around his arm. 

There is a wicked grin on your face. “I’d love that!”

The boy in question doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Mitsuki’s already chirping. “It’s settled, then!” 

You think: it doesn’t even matter if he emerges victorious in all the encounters you have after this, because when the adults turn, you get to stick your tongue out at him.

The look on his face is so quietly violent, so blatantly murderous, as you wave your still sunflower-smeared hands in his face, that you think you will remember the sweetness of this victory for the rest of your life. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your relationship does not change in the slightest after that.

Mitsuki invites you over to her house once a week, and your parents do the same. The adults do their own thing, and you do yours: trying your best to annoy the daylights out of your newfound nemesis, and he only does the same to you. You’ll make fun of his All Might merchandise, the ones displayed proudly in his room, and he’ll make fun of your Recovery Girl ones, the ones you have so painstakingly collected⏤ she’s not nearly as popular of a Hero. He’ll sneer: “So that’s why you used to kiss everyone you healed?” 

You’ll sneer right back, cringing internally at the reminder of that phase, though you are still Recovery Girl’s number one fan. “My Quirk’s literally activated through touch. You’d be lucky if I poked you with a ten-foot pole, let alone heal you with a kiss.” 

He’ll make a face. “Eugh. You wish, idiot. I’d never want to kiss an extra like you.” 

The two of you have learned to act relatively civil with adults in the house. You smile up at him, sickly sweet. “Yeah. This extra is an idiot, and she definitely didn’t score higher than you on the last history test.” 

By one point, but still. 

He snorts, though you can tell the reminder irks him. “That’s only ‘cause you sucked up to sensei like, three classes in a row.”

You sniff in derision.  “I did not.” Sure, it’s true: you’d definitely been a little more active in class, and answered more questions than usual, but you’d studied for it! You’d studied a lot!

He sneers back. “Did too.” 

You have learned to imitate the murderous glare he likes to level you with, and the first time you mimic it, you grin a little as his eyes widen, stunned.

The two of you are civil for the most part, though, at each other’s houses. His mother would tear him a new one if she heard him acting anything but⏤ ( she has )⏤ and you think you like his parents too much to ruin your relationship over something as trivial as this. 

School is a different story, however, as are your walks in the mornings. “Shut the fuck up,” He’ll snarl at you.

“But Katsuki-kun!” You’ll coo right back, using the tone you know he hates. “I haven’t even started talking yet!” 

He’ll scowl at you. You’ll simper right back. He’ll speed up, and you do not slow, nor do you attempt to match his pace, because you know: if you slow, he will too. Always keeping that same distance, and if you speed up⏤ well, you’d tried that once. And you’d kept pace with him for all of two seconds, before he’d sped up in turn, until the both of you were practically sprinting to school. 

You lose, of course. You have never run a day in your life.

( You start training right after. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack.

( Your mother picked out the flowers, but you are the one that held them, and you were also the one to decide, there and then, that these were your favorite flowers in the world. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly stunning in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. 

“You’re ruining my shirt,” He grouses. “Stop crying. I’m literally more injured than you are.” 

You sniff. “I’m not kissing you better.” 

He snarls. “Come anywhere near me with your mouth and I’ll blow your face off.” 

“You want it so bad it makes you look stupid.” You tell him, and he tenses beneath you, but you only press your cheek to his neck, and think, heal.

The pain of the bruises lances through you, and you feel the way he relaxes.

You droop. “Onwards, steed.” 

“I will literally drop you.” 

“I just healed you. I’m tired.” 

“No one fucking asked you to.” 

He doesn’t, though, and eventually, you sigh a little into his neck.

“What.” 

“Nothing.” 

“ What, dumbass.” 

You hum, a little absentminded. “You’re going to UA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of applying for the healer understudy openings.” You shrug. “Dunno if I can get in, though.” 

“You will.” His certainty surprises you. 

You smile. “Didn’t know you believed in me so much, Katsuki-kun.” Your head flops back onto his shoulder. “Will you still walk with me in the mornings, then?” 

“After school, too. Even if you don’t get in.” 

You shift to blink up at him in surprise. 

He clicks his tongue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this uncomfortable. “Who the fuck else’s gonna punch shitty stalkers for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, like the sun cresting upon the horizon, lighting up like a dawn inside your chest. You laugh at the feel of it. “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed today? Besides, you don’t even know where I’d be going.” You reach up to pinch him on the cheek. 

He jerks away, the look on his face disgusted. “Then I’ll teach you to fight.” 

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like. There’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food , and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. 

( That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love , you tell Mitsuki-san, once upon a time, and though you are not sure if it is love, you think: you do not mind it. )

This is how your relationship is, and how it remains, until the end of the second last year of middle school, right before the both of you enter UA.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are asleep at your desk when you are jumpscared awake. 

“UA? That national school? Isn’t their acceptance rate really low?” Someone in your class is asking. 

“That’s exactly why you guys are just extras!” You roll your eyes as the ash-blond jumps straight atop his desk. “I aced the mock test! I’m the only one at this school who could possibly get into UA. I’ll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero!” 

This is not the first time you’ve heard this tirade. Sueko nudges you, quietly. “Hey. Didn’t you say you were applying for one of their healer slots?” 

“Oh, yeah.” The sensei glances down at his list. “Midoriya wanted to go to UA as well, right? And someone else…” You tense.

The class bursts into uproarious laughter, and it seems you are temporarily saved. 

“Huh? Midoriya? No way! You can’t get into the Hero course by just studying!”

The green-haired boy stammers. “Th-they got rid of the rule! There’s just no precedent…” 

You roll your eyes at the sound of familiar explosions. “Huh? Deku! You’re below the rejects! You’re quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?”

“No, wait! Kacchan! It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!” He falters “It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little! I won’t know unless I try…”   

“What do you mean, unless you try? You’re Quirkless!” 

You slam your textbook down with a little more force than usual, and the whole class turns to you in surprise. “He has a dream that he dares to try for,” you say, coolly. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“And what the hell would you know about that?” 

Disbelief rushes through you, and you turn to look him squarely in the eye. The class tenses, and his own eyes widen. It has been a while since you’ve challenged him like this directly, whether in school or otherwise. 

Sueko pipes up, unhelpfully, from beside you, as if he wouldn’t know. “She’s also applying for UA.” 

You don’t get the chance to glare at her, because your sensei continues the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s right! You were the last student applying to UA! How’s the process coming along? The healer routes are notoriously difficult⏤ how’s that coming along?” 

“Ah, I applied to some hospitals for volunteering, but I don’t know if they accept middle-schoolers,” You laugh. 

Your sensei nods, in support, but also a little condescendingly. “Well, it’s also a very difficult path, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much, yeah?” 

The smile on your face feels a little bit painful, a little bit stretched. 

You are distracted for the rest of that day. So out of it, in fact, that when the sensei calls upon you, his favorite student, you take all of five seconds to respond⏤ blinking, first, then glancing up, with a: “ Sorry , what was the question?” You are so out of it that you bump your hip into your own desk as you move past for lunch, wincing at the twinge of it, and you are so out of it that you forget your pencil case when you leave after class, and have to go back to get it.

“Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof!” 

You know that voice. You pause. But then, the blast of familiar explosions. 

Before your hands, the door slams open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting. Bakugou and Midoriya both, obviously, and you suppose you should have known his two lackeys would have been there, too. They turn from their face-off, and your glare is sharp and terrible. “So what if he’s Quirkless?” You snap, storming over to grab the green-haired boy by the wrist. “At least he has a dream. At least he dares to try . That’s more than I can say for the two of you.” 

“Stay out of this,” The blond snarls, a warning. 

You are not entirely a good person. You lie as you please, wielding the power of your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and do things entirely for your own amusement, uncaring of the aftermath. You know Midoriya, or rather, you know of him, and how he is a frequent target of Bakugou’s scathing remarks. At first, you had assumed he’d just been one of the people that disliked you, but it had become increasingly evident that he was just one of the people that didn’t dare to brave the blond’s wrath. And you are not entirely a good person, because you just didn’t care . Not to talk to him, not to stand up for him, not if he hadn’t even tried to for you.

You are not entirely a good person yourself, but even so, you know that there are lines that should not be crossed. 

You lift your chin, and say, quietly. “Apologize.” 

“Hah?” He tilts his head. “And why the hell should I? Why the hell are you defending him?” 

You feel incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with it?” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker down to where you are holding the green-haired boy, by his wrist. “There are things that you should never, ever , say to a person.” His eyes narrow, but there’s an irrational anger within you, a disbelief. “You’re literally trying to become a Hero. How can you, an applicant of UA, who hopes to become one of the best heroes in the world, tell someone to kill themselves, and not think there’s anything wrong with it?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Little explosions are escaping his hands, in the uncontrolled way they do when he’s furious and unaware of them. 

You think Midoriya makes a pained sound, what with the way your hands are clenching, angry and white. Heal. A sting pulses through you, and you drop his wrist, but your eyes are flashing. “You’re being an ass. Apologize. ”

“ You don’t tell me what to do. ” 

You lift your chin. “If you value our friendship in the slightest, then yes, I do. ” The vehemence of your words stuns you a bit, and the blond recoils, as if he has been physically struck. 

You think you have won, for all of a moment, and then he scoffs.

“Yeah, right. What friendship? The one you lied to my mom about and said that we had? That friendship? The one that doesn’t exist? Won’t exist?” 

His sneer is not harsh, but the breath that leaves you is shaky.

You do not hear his next words.

( You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly nice in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like, and there’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food , and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one.  )

This is how Katsuki-kun shows his love , you say to Mitsuki-san once upon a time, but now, you know, because you have learned to read between the lines of his words; to understand him: that this is just how he treats liars who worm their way into his world, and how he tolerates them.

Your lip wobbles. There is a lump in your throat. But you will not cry for him, nor will you plead. Play nice , your mother chastises you once upon a time, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. She chastises you once upon a time, because you do not particularly care to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are petty, yes. Vindictive, too. You may not be that much of a good person, and you are not without your own feelings, hypocritical as that may be. But you are trying , and you are genuine, or at least as much as you can be, as much as you ever have, and he⏤ he has just thrown all of that in your face. 

“Fine, then.” You smile, and you are unfeeling as you lie. “I’ve never thought of you as a friend, either. Don’t talk to me again.” 

The door slams behind you.

You do not hear his next words, so you do not hear him mean: not while you choose him, and not me.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki is six-turning seven the first time he meets you. 

It is the first day of school. You are seated at your desk, a crowd of adoring sycophants around you. “Happy birthday! You look really pretty today,” His friend says from beside him, and he looks you up and down. You are wearing a sky-blue dress, with your hair pressed into careful curls.

His cheeks warm. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he only grunts, looking away to the side. “Dunno. She looks pretty ugly to me.” 

“You can’t just say that to her,” Your friend hisses. He doesn’t know her face. 

He scowls at her. “And who the heck are you, extra?” 

She wilts under the force of his glare, and he feels a little better, as if satisfied.

“It’s okay!” You smile. He blinks. Maybe he should call you ugly more often.

And then you call him stupid. And blind.

And the rest is history. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The results of your hospital volunteer application are sent back the next week, and the first thing you think of, somewhat bitterly, is that at least now, you have a proper excuse for skipping out on your weekly dinners. 

You have already skipped out on the first, pretending you feel sick. 

Your phone is still silent. You have not talked to him since that day, not even to check up on him when you see the news, though your fingers itch to. You think of sunflowers: how you didn’t even like them, until him. You think of how your bag now feels empty without its signature pins, how you have thrown every scrap of yellow clothing into a pile in your closet, your sunflower-themed charms and notebooks tucked away. 

Proof of life comes from your mother, and you do not turn on your phone. 

You break your silence two days later, pushing your vegetables somewhat morosely around your plate. “My volunteer application was accepted. They’re letting me intern at the hospital.” 

Your father beams. “That’s great news! You should’ve told us earlier! Honey, we have to eat out to celebrate! Oh, I need to tell Masaru⏤” 

“I won’t be going to weekly dinners for the rest of the summer,” You cut in. Your mother’s chopsticks pause midair. 

Your father blinks at you. “Surely the hospital isn’t making its interns work that much.” 

“Well, I’m applying to UA.” You shrug. That much is true, but it’s also just so you can fill in your hours, work yourself down to the bone. “I’d like as much experience as possible.” 

Your mother is watching you carefully. 

Your father clears his throat. “Well, don’t work yourself too hard.” He says, jokingly, as he dishes another helping of food upon your plate. “You tell us if they’re giving you any trouble, alright?” 

You force yourself to smile back. “‘Course, dad.” 

( Your mother asks you, a week later, when you arrive home from your internship. “Are you still friends with him?” She has asked you a similar question once, years ago and late in the evening, at the end of the dinner party, your father drunken and half-leaning on her shoulder.

You give her the same answer you did then, and in the same way. Cheery, and without a hint of hesitation. “Nope!” 

She is watching you carefully. 

You excuse yourself, and she does not ask you about it again. )

It feels like the days never end, and yet summer passes by before you can blink. You banish all thoughts of blond hair and crimson eyes entirely from your mind, and truthfully, you do not have the mind to think of him much, anyways. You steal the pain of your patients and make it your own, smiling at the brightness of your faces as you heal one, then two, then several more. It tires you terribly so, and between your time at the hospital and pre-studying for the UA exams, you’re so fatigued each night that you fall asleep before your head even hits the pillow. You don’t even have the time to meet up with your friends. And before you know it, the last year of middle school is upon you, as are the start of your applications. 

It is a whirlwind of things to do, so much that you feel you do not have the time to breathe, or even think. Katsuki’s been placed in a different class from yours, which comes as a relief in more ways than one⏤ firstly, that you don’t have to see him, and secondly, because you can let your grades fall just a little, and still come out as top of your class. Between your intern shifts, your mindless studying, the applications, the tests and quizzes and preparing endlessly for interviews, the thoughts of anything else vanish entirely from your mind. You do not feel the emptiness of your afternoons, nor much of your mornings. 

About two months in, Midoriya Izuku is the one to seek you out. 

There is a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth, a textbook in your other hand. You notice him when a shadow falls over it, blotting the light out. You glance up, drawling. “Yes?” 

“Can I… talk to you for a moment?” He ventures, nervously, a tray gripped in his hands. 

You eye him a little strangely. 

You haven’t seen him since four months ago⏤ you haven’t really been paying much attention, and even the reminder sets your walls of iron slamming up. He’d been shorter then, you think, and significantly more hesitant. The boy from back then would never have even dared think about approaching you like this.

He flusters. “I-I just! Another time is also okay, or if you don’t want to, that’s also okay⏤” 

There he is , you think, a touch amused. “Can it be said here?” 

Beside you, Sueko’s jaw drops. You can feel the stares of your friends boring into the side of your face.

“Y-yes?” 

“Then make it quick.” You flip the page of your textbook. 

He hesitates. “Is it really okay…? For me to sit here?” 

Your eyebrow arches, high. “Since when have you been unable to sit where you like?” 

Mutely, he sets his tray down, and sits. 

You only flip another page. “You can either eat or talk.” You say, conversationally. “Lunch won’t last all day.” 

Obediently, he takes a spoonful of rice, and swallows. “I just… wanted to thank you.” He begins.

You know exactly what he is talking about, and your throat tightens. ( You think of your backpack, how empty it feels, but your refusal to tack on your sunflower pins anyway. ) You shrug. “No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so,” Midoriya perks up a bit. “N-no one’s ever stood up for me like that before, and especially not to Kacchan… I-I’m really grateful, either way!” 

You snort a little. Never would you have thought Midoriya Izuku , of all people, would stand here one day, thanking you. 

“I think you’re a really good person,” He says to you, a little bit hesitant. It jolts you a bit, the genuine honesty of his tone, but what you are not prepared for is what comes after. “And I know Kacchan does, too.” 

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

“He still cares about you,” Midoriya says, a touch softer. Your friends are not looking at you, but you can still feel the weight of their gazes, their ears.

You say as you set your spoon down. “If you want to be friends with me, then you will never speak of him again.” 

Midoriya watches you carefully, notes the finality in your tone. His gaze rises to a point above your shoulder.

He flinches.

He does not speak of what he sees, or of this conversation, ever again. 

You do not turn, and you do not ask.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The week of UA acceptances arrive, and you await your own with bated breath. 

Your father laughs as you run out exactly at eight every morning to check, before he finally deigns to tell you that the postman usually delivers to your house around twelve. “I knew that!” You say, and he laughs at the obvious lie.

You stick your tongue out at him, but you still sneak out the next day at the same time, just in case . 

But as it turns out, the postman is late. You know this, because Midoriya texts you late in the evening, after dinnertime, with his signature All Might emoji and a brief: check your mailbox!!!!!

You stop, your heart in your throat. You don’t think you are breathing. 

He’s still typing, spamming your text messages with a thousand All Might emojis, each of them more despairing than the last. You do not know what this means. And then, you see his next message: I got in!!!!!  

It turns out that you are not, in fact, breathing.

You feel like you are holding the whole time you’re fumbling through your mailbox, dropping random letters haphazardly onto your doorstep. That one looks like it’s important , you think, distantly, and it gets dropped somewhere onto the growing pile at your right, scanning them all for a familiar logo, and⏤ you see it at the very bottom of the pile.

You thumb it open with shaking hands. Congratulations , it reads, and you scream.

( You think for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. )

Your father pokes his head around the corner. “I heard screaming. Everything alright?” 

Your mother is smiling. “Mitsuki just called. Katsuki’s in.” 

Your father is looking at you with wide eyes. You are grinning, there are tears in your eyes, and you are wordless in your delight. 

Your mother laughs, soft. “I suppose two congratulations are in order.” 

“Midoriya also made it, so make that three.” You correct, grinning. 

Your father whoops. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”⏤ and for the first time in almost a year, you feel light as a feather, like the world is spread wide before you, and you are a young god before it, your wings wide and at the ready. 

For the first time in almost a year, you think, for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. You think of reaching for your phone⏤ ( and if you did, you’d see his icon that you’d purposefully wiped blank bubbling )⏤ but you don’t. You think of a boy with blond hair and crimson eyes that you have not looked at in almost a year, how you’ll brush past him in the halls, surrounded by your gaggle of friends, your uniform and makeup, your armor, and try not to note how he’s grown taller. For the first time in over a year, you think of him, and your heart does not feel like an empty cavity in your chest; you do not feel so hollow, nor do you ache.

Your heart only squeezes, a little tight, but. 

You think you will be fine.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are delusional. You are not, in fact, fine. 

You are standing in front of the classroom door. It spells the code of your class: 1A , in bold lettering, proportions inhumanly large. You are three minutes late, but it’s really not your fault⏤ you’d simply fangirled so hard over the fact that you’re finally getting to meet your idol in person last night that you’d barely gotten any sleep, and your mother had had to haul you practically out of bed and out the door, throughout the whole of your alarm. 

You slide open the door. Instantly, you’re met with a sea of faces, and you steel yourself⏤ but then. 

For the first time in over a year, you see him, and all of a sudden, you are painfully aware of the lack of yellow on your figure; your backpack entirely empty of its signature sunflower pins. 

The smile is frozen on your face, and he looks just as shocked as you feel. 

A voice drawls at your side. “You must be the healer,” You are glad for the distraction; the source a scraggly-haired man halfway through removing himself from a sleeping bag. Your sensei, you deduce. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sensei!” You bow. “I overslept because I was fangirling too hard over meeting Recovery Girl today! I promise it won’t happen again!” 

A wave of soft laughter ripples through the class, and over the din, you hear a⏤ she’s kinda cute! ⏤ at the same time as a⏤ oh, I love her already. 

“If I get hurt, will I get to see you?” A voice calls, and you turn to see a boy⏤ blond, and your heart stutters for a moment, but his shade isn’t ash, it’s golden. He’s grinning cheekily up at you. 

“No flirting in my class.” Your sensei warns. “But yes, seeing as she’s 1A’s healer understudy.” He turns to you. “Recovery Girl’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is?” 

You nod cheerily. “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Good.” You turn at the obvious dismissal, shooting a wave at your green-haired friend as you do. 

You leave the classroom with your shoulders set, your chin tilted high, your outfit your armor, and your makeup your helm.

You pretend like you do not feel the crimson glare that seems like it’s trying to pierce through the back of your neck. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Recovery Girl likes you, and you feel as if you are floating for the whole of a day. Not even meeting Bakugou’s gaze the next morning can knock you from it, nor can the grape-haired boy’s leering from across the room. You can’t really dwell on them for long, either, not with the crowd of people aggregating by your desk. You blink up a little, surprised.

It’s not like you’ve made an effort to dress up especially pretty today, and you don’t think you’ve come off as incessantly nice. You are not the you from first grade anymore⏤ you don’t just think yourself pretty, you know you are⏤ but are confident enough in your own skin that you have stopped putting on airs; have allowed yourself to be as cold and sarcastic and dry as you want. Most of your girl-followers⏤ ( the ones you buy with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ have only seen glimpses of you like this, and you can count on one hand the people outside of your parents who know you as you are. 

Sueko, Midoriya, and of course, him. 

You do not dwell on it for long. You are confident in your own skin, and though you would like some more friends, you do not wish to temper yourself to gain them.

You smile a little at the question the purple-haired boy asks, disliking the way his eyes are lingering at your chest. “You’re all welcome to drop by the clinic anytime you like. It’s what we’re here for, after all. Though, if you want a kiss to make you feel better,” 

You pause a little bit for dramatic effect watching the eyes of several boys brighten just a bit.

“You’ll have to go to Recovery Girl.” 

Your straight face is very well-practiced, but you do not hide the small quirk of your mouth as you watch their souls die. 

An arm slings around your shoulder, its pink-skinned, pink-haired owner grinning at you. “I think we’re going to be best friends, you and I.” 

You remember thinking the same thing about a different girl, when you are six-turning seven, and you hear the same genuinity behind it.

( You are clad in your outfit like armor, your makeup a helm. Today, you are exactly as cold and sarcastic and dry as you like, because you are confident in your own skin, and you do not temper yourself in the slightest. )

You smile up at her. “I think I’d like that!” 

Her grin widens, but then, an older Hero walks in⏤ Cementoss, you think. You have made an effort to memorize the roster. “To your seats, everyone.” He calls. 

You take out your notebook, neatly arranging your pens. New year, new you. You don’t have as many shifts at the hospital anymore⏤ you don’t need the experience exactly, as you’re sure UA will look good enough on your resume, but it can’t hurt. Besides, you enjoy working there anyways; the older nurses who help you out with a kind smile, the doctors who are almost always willing to answer a question. But the lessened shifts allow you to breathe, just a little, to settle back into a healthier routine; one no longer so bogged down by your thoughts. 

Math transitions quickly into English. You think you prefer Cementoss’s teaching style just a little, even if Present Mic is more energetic⏤ a little bit too loud for your tastes, you think. The material is basic, seeing as it’s the unofficial first day of class, and though you’ve already pre-studied most of the content, you end up writing most of it down, anyways. 

Lunchtime arrives. You balance your tray on your hands, walking side-by-side with Mina. Midoriya waves at you from his table, surrounded by an assortment of friends, and you nod back. “Let’s sit there!” The pink-haired girl points excitedly at a particular table. 

You see several boys from your class, some more familiar than the rest. A head of ash blonde, crimson eyes that glance up to meet your own. 

“Midoriya wanted me to sit with him today,” You say, a touch apologetic. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

Her eyes widen a bit, and you note the glance, the observance. Her own smile is your mirror, just as apologetic, and just as assertive. “Maybe another time,” She says.

She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it. You like that about her. 

You incline your head, eyelid pulling down in a wink. “Do let me know which one you like,” 

She only laughs at you, her answering grin somewhat sly. 

All Might steps into the room after lunch, and though you’ve never been one of his particularly die-hard fans⏤ you think of your sunflowers, how you make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours⏤ you can admit that in person, he stands a legend in real life. You are just a little starstruck, you think, as he smiles at you, and says⏤ “Do try to keep your injuries to a minimum, though not to worry! Our healer team will be here to assist you!” 

You find yourself grinning a little as you respond, “Nothing fatal, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything about anyone bringing a dead person back to life.” 

He booms a laugh. “Naturally! You are all Heroes! You should refrain from using lethal power whenever possible!” 

He speaks too soon. The first teams are called up, and the matchup is almost comical. 

Bakugou will be fine. You know this. You are not worried for him in the slightest⏤ not that you would , you tell yourself, a touch sardonically.

No. What you worry for is the state of your Quirkless friend, and you are right to worry. Bakugou seems almost angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying a lot, considering how good you are⏤ how good you used to be, you correct yourself⏤ at getting on his nerves, though Midoriya seems to be holding up very well. 

Your friend has grown, you think. He is not at all the same person he was over a year ago in that classroom. 

But you are right to worry, because All Might is shouting into his microphone. “Young Bakugou, stop! Are you trying to kill him?” 

No , you think, immediately, instinctively. You know Bakugou is many things, but he is not that. Never that.

You feel the force of that explosion from here. “This is supposed to be a class!” One of your classmates, red-haired and red-eyed, is saying. “You have to stop him!” 

“He knows what he’s doing.” You find yourself saying. Somewhat cold, somewhat callous. There are eyes on you, surprised.

You shrug.

You don’t really know why you say it, either. 

“Young Bakugou, the next time you use that, I’ll stop the fight, and your team will lose. To attack on such a large scale inside is inviting the destruction of the very stronghold you are supposed to be protecting. That is a foolish plan for both heroes and villains, and you will lose a lot of points!” 

You don’t need to look at him to feel his teeth gnash in anger, but you still watch the screen, anyways. 

Their clash is violent. You remember saying, once, that you dislike violence because you are a healer. But that is not entirely true, you think: you see the passion in their every movement, even as your green-haired friend receives the brunt of the beating, the callous elegance of it. The careful calculations, the years of training that you have walked alongside to witness. 

“This looks bad!” One of the classmates from before seems to shout. “Sensei!” 

You don’t dislike violence just because you are a healer. What you have always disliked is the senseless brutality of it, the cruelty of its aftermath. Not because you have to deal with it, but because sometimes, you can’t. 

You look to All Might. He seems to be struggling with something. 

“So long as it is not fatal,” Your voice is soft, but no less firm. “I can heal it.” 

His mouth tightens, but you see his decision made in that moment. 

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see Midoriya’s Quirk. Your eyes widen. It’s so sudden, so powerful, that you almost miss it; the blast entirely different from Bakugou’s own. So he was not Quirkless after all , you think, but all thought of that vanishes when you see the aftermath. 

All Might is turning for you, but you are already running. 

You see the two you are unfamiliar with first. “How is she?” You ask the blue-haired boy who stands upright. 

“I’m fine!” She gasps out. “Just nauseous! But Deku⏤” 

You hear the nickname, and you think you look a little strangely at her for it. You don’t dwell on it very long, though, because you’re already slipping past. 

Then, you see him, and though your heart stutters a little in your chest⏤ ( your bag, empty of its sunflowers )⏤ you still look him in the eye. You are professional. “Are you hurt?” You ask, because he is standing there, still gaping, a little open-mouthed. 

He turns that look upon you, and his eyes widen. 

The eye contact feels slightly unsettling. You look away first. “Well. If you are, you can let me know.” 

You kneel at the green-haired boy’s side. 

A hand stops you, just as you reach out. They’re a little bit bigger than what you’re used to, a little bit more callused. “Wait,” He says, voice raspy, and you tense a little: both at the familiar and unfamiliar touch, and because it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. “You don’t have to⏤” He scowls, cursing. “Recovery Girl.”

You blink up at him, a little confused. 

But then you see his eyes dart towards your arm, and then the green-haired boy’s, lying prone on the ground. 

“I am a healer. It’s what I do.” 

“That’s not what I⏤” He curses again under his breath. “The damn nerd will be fine. Does he even know about your Quirk?” 

“Why would that even matter?” You are confused, and you shove his arm away. Your friend is still hurt , and he is keeping you from your job. Why do you even care? You want to say.

You bite your tongue, and think: heal. 

Midoriya blinks awake halfway through. Your arm is covered in purple contusions, and he gasps, jerking away. “You⏤ your arm!” 

They fade within seconds. You only reach again for it, feeling the crimson gaze burning into the side of your face, as you’re sure the rest of the class is too, from their camera screens hundreds of meters away. You stare straight ahead, and think, heal , even as your arm ripples in agony again, painted and purple. 

You steal your patient’s pain, and you feel all of it, but you don’t show a thing. Because you are a healer, and that’s what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are a healer, and that’s what you do, but the next day, Aizawa-sensei still admonishes you for it. 

“Your records are very impressive,” He tells you first, and you straighten. You figure: he is likely a man notorious for his lack of praise, so you might as well lap it up while you can. “However, just because you have a very high pain tolerance, does not mean you do not feel pain. Am I correct?” 

“Yes, sensei.” You dip your head. 

“The lot of you hear that, right?” He addresses the rest of the class. “She’s a healer, and she can heal almost anything, save those who are already dead. That’s very impressive, and it’s very rare. Don’t let her become your crutch. She will not always be there, and though she might say she doesn’t mind your burden, others will. Whether it’s yourself, your fellow Pro Heroes, or the civilians you are trying to save.” 

There is murmured assent from the class. 

He turns back to you. “Heroism is also about knowing when to step back and let others handle the situation. It is okay to share your burdens,” He tells you. 

You blink a little, surprised at the comments that are not really criticism at all. “I am a healer,” You state. “It’s what I do.” 

He sighs. “You’re just as stubborn as your mentor,” He says. 

You smile at this, chirping. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.” 

You sink into your chair a little sheepishly, but it’s like a sun has been lit in your chest, because you take it as one anyways, and you are grinning. 

Lunchtime is a little strange today, for more reasons than one. Mina invites you again, but she doesn’t protest your decision, a knowing glint in her eye. But she doesn’t mention a thing, and you are grateful for it. 

Midoriya is sitting with the same people as yesterday, and he beams, delighted, as you slide into the seat beside him. Iida and Uraraka nod at you from across the table, and you nod back. 

Surprisingly, it’s the red-and-white haired boy across from you⏤ Todoroki, who breaks the silence. “My father says he would like to meet you.” 

You blink. That’s certainly not what you were expecting. “Endeavour, right?” 

He nods, his face deadpan. “Please decline.” 

You choke a little bit on the bite of food that has just entered your mouth. Midoriya slides you a napkin. 

You cough around it. “Wow, Todoroki-san. You really dislike me that much?” 

He shoots you a strange look. “Not at all. Why do you ask?” 

You’re a little confused. “Oh, that was a joke.”

“Apologies. I have never been very good with jokes.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, and I was planning on declining, anyways. I’m going to intern under Recovery Girl for the rest of my life!” 

“I will communicate that to him, then.” 

Midoriya coughs lightly from your other side. You elbow him. 

Uraraka giggles, but whatever she is going to say is cut off by the sound of the alarm. There has been a level three security breach , you hear. 

“Trespassing,” You hear someone clarify. 

You stare at the horde of gray-uniformed students crowding the hallway. You have never been a huge fan of crowds, especially ones as tightly-packed as this. Besides, you think, a touch dryly, that if there were an intruder, walking headfirst into a mosh pit like this would probably be the best way to get yourself caught up in a mass murder. 

But you don’t get to voice any of these concerns, because then Uraraka is tugging at your wrist. “If we don’t get ourselves in there now, we’re never going to get our way out! Come on!” 

You fall, weightless, and are carried away upon the sea.

It’s horrible. Internally, you curse the girl, but almost don’t even feel bad about it because yes, she’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever known, but she’s also reason you’re in the midst of a thousand wayward bodies right now, wrinkling your nose at the reek, and practically fighting for your life to keep your head above the throng. You are a healer, you think, a little despairingly, as you elbow someone so harshly that your own limb twinges. You are fighting a desperate battle, but nonetheless a losing one⏤ at least you are, until hands lift you by the waist and carry you forth; your savior cutting his way through the crowd with ease.

Your back hits the wall, and gratitude is on the tip of your tongue as you look up, but then you see him: ash-blond, and glaring at you with crimson eyes. “The hell were you thinking?” He hisses. “You don’t even like crowds.” 

You hate the familiarity in the way he says it, as if he still knows you, and you hate the way he cages you in against the wall, his body larger than you have known, but how it still feels the same, pressed up against yours.

( You think of your sunflowers, how your bag feels strangely empty without them. )

It is the nearest he has been to you in well over a year. You hate the way he smells, like burnt caramel, and you hate the way your cheeks warm. 

You want to say: neither do you , and you want to ask him why he even bothered to try and save you. You know he doesn't like you, not even in the slightest, not this liar who has wormed their way into his world; this liar that he tolerates. You think of a thousand witty remarks, ones that used to make his eyes light, the curl of his scowl somewhat harsh, but no less familiar, of giving voice to your outrage, to your feelings, and simply storming past. 

You choose none of the above. 

You still your features, the picture of calm, set the steel of your shoulders, and stare straight at a point above his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” 

You do not look at him, so you don’t see the way he recoils, ever-slightly. The expression he levels you, half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, the rest a complicated mix of emotions even he could not decipher himself.

You don't see the way he opens his mouth, because then Iida is there and shouting. 

You see your chance, and you don’t wait for his answer. You weren’t expecting one, anyways. 

He doesn’t even have the time to reach for you, before you slip past, and are gone. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You stand before the mouth of USJ, your heart in your throat. 

You barely notice the weight of the device upon your wrist; a monitor that connects you to all the ones distributed amongst the class, because there are villains down there, you think, a little dumbfoundedly. Real villains, like the type you see in movies, and you feel almost ridiculous, out of place, as if someone will smack you upside the head and tell you: wake up! and that you are not in a story . And you are not, because you pinch yourself, and yes, this is real life. 

You have never seen a villain yourself before, because you are a healer, and have only ever dealt with the aftermath of what they have done. You know the damage, the pain, the torture it can inflict upon a soul; the way sometimes, no one can ever fully heal them afterwards, not even you. So though you are a little wide-eyed, your thoughts blank, when the mist wraps around you, you don’t even think. 

You lunge. 

Crimson eyes widen, and he catches you, just one second before you fall into darkness as one. 

You try not to think about the way his body feels against yours, how he is cradling you, the way his hand automatically wraps around the back of your head. You feel the impact in your bones, though he bears the brunt of it. Automatically, you reach up, and think, heal , but you don’t have the time to do much else, because then his eyes widen, and he’s shoving you away. 

“STAY THERE!” Distantly, you think he is roaring at you, and another time, you might have protested that you could defend yourself. But the shock of it all is still settling in⏤ ( these are real villains, you think dazedly, and this is real life )⏤ and you are a healer, right now, you are nothing more than a civilian. 

In the aftermath, you still stand, dazed. Bakugou and another red-haired guy from your class are panting, smoke curling from your familiar ash-blond’s figure, and you register, like the world is separated from you by a film: it’s over. 

“Oi.” There are palms cupping your face, and you blink a little, startled, as crimson eyes boring into yours. “You hurt anywhere?” 

No , you think, a little too stunned to speak; the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentle manner of his touch. But then you see a hint of blood trickling down the side of his cheek.

As if on instinct, you reach out for him. He jerks away.

Wow , you think, the lump rising to your throat instantly. You had not known he hated you this much, to the point that he is unwilling of even your touch. 

“I am a healer,” You say, your throat somewhat tight. ( You think of sunflowers, your bag that is empty, your closet and its piled-up yellow. ) “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

You sense that he is watching you carefully, but your eyes do not rise to meet his gaze. You simply steal his pain, and you barely feel a thing⏤ even if his injuries were not so light, you think you are too numb to, anyways. 

You move past, and he does not reach for you. The red-haired classmate⏤ Kirishima , you recognize, grins at you, saying that he is unharmed. He offers to escort you back to the front, but then, your wristband is beeping, a location upon it.

You straighten. You are still afraid, you recognize, but there is someone out there that needs help, and this is simply another obstacle you must overcome. You will not always be in your hospital, tending to those that manage to get themselves wheeled in⏤ and though there is fear in you, there is also an equal determination. 

“There are people who need healing,” You say, and that is all you need to. 

You are a healer, but that does not mean you are any less brave.

You are a healer, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You ask Aizawa, two days later, if he would be willing to teach you self defense. 

( You remember a boy, back from what feels like eons ago. You, on his back, the sun in your chest as he offers to walk you both to and from school. You don’t even know where I’m going , you tease, and he only scoffs at you. Then I’ll teach you how to fight .

You think of your sunflowers, and your bag, empty of them.

Your throat tightens, and you make your decision. )

He looks a little surprised, and asks you if you are sure. He warns you that he will not be a lenient teacher, but you have seen how this man dove headfirst into danger to save his students; seen his kindnesses that are masked in the form of tough love. 

You also know he likes you, at least a little bit. If he hadn’t, he would not have complimented you like that on the third day, would not have had the hint of fondness in his tone as he drawled, that wasn’t a compliment. 

And even if he doesn’t, you know he will be at least a little lenient. 

You had been the one to heal him, after all. 

You are wrong.

You hate running. Always have. You started training, years ago, but that had been entirely out of spite, and in the wake of it⏤ ( your bag, empty of sunflowers )⏤ you had stopped. You hate running, always have, and you have no time, you’d told yourself, nor the energy⏤ but really, you hate it because it reminds you of him.

Now, you hate it for a different reason. You hate it because Aizawa pushes you, hard , until your lungs are gasping for air, your knees and legs trembling⏤ you think, somewhat sourly, that none of your healings had ever prepared you for this. You have healed all manner of wounds, cured a variety of diseases, but that does not change the fact even back when you were running, you had not put everything you had into it, and that now, you are trembling, bones soft, muscles even more so, somewhat like a deer.

You heal fast, though, you always have. You would not have been able to heal without it⏤ Aizawa knows this, which is why he pushes you hard . “If you hadn’t been so dedicated to medicine,” He tells you, “I would’ve told you to go the Hero route instead.” 

You shrug. The thought has never occurred to you. Your mother is a doctor, and as soon as your Quirk had developed, you had never thought about anything else. But you don’t get a chance to voice it, or even to thank him, because then he’s hauling you up by the arm.

“Break’s over,” He informs you, a signature shit-eating grin on his face. You think you’re beginning to hate the sight of it. “Back to running.” 

You sigh, before dutifully acquiescing. 

Schoolwork is easier, at least, though between your sparse shifts at the hospital and Aizawa’s daily after-school training, you are pretty much spent. You don’t even register Mina chatting excitedly beside you about the upcoming UA sports festival that Aizawa has just announced⏤ you only think, a little despairingly; more work. 

You glance up at your pink-haired friend’s surprised exclamation, and you see: a crowd of people, so many that from your vantage point, it seems like it’s the intruder incident all over again. A scoff, vaguely familiar⏤ “They’re obviously scoping out the competition, small fries. We’re the group that made it out of the villain attack.” Someone protests, telling him to play nice⏤ no , you think. This is him being nice. “Out of my way, extras!” 

“I came to see what the famous Class 1-A is like, but you all seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the Hero courses like this?” 

You see: a head of purple hair, mussed, and you think⏤ wow, he could be Aizawa if your sensei’s hair was shorter, purple, and he were using his Quirk. 

“Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned. There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn’t make it into the Hero course. Did you know that?” 

You didn’t, but he only continues. 

“The school has left those of us a chance. And based on the results of the sports festival, they’ll consider our transfer into the Hero course, and vice versa. Scoping out the competition? ” He scoffs. “I, at least, came to say that even if you’re in the Hero course, if you get too carried away, I’ll sweep your feet out from under you.” His eyes flash, chin raised high. “Consider it a declaration of war.”

You sigh a little internally at the theatrics. “Excuse me, coming through.” You call. You ignore the way the ash-blond tenses a little as you walk up beside him, and you smile politely at the crowd; your uniform your armor, and your makeup your helm. You can do damage control just fine. “I’m class 1-A’s healer, so I don’t have a bone to pick with you really, but,” You cock your head. “All we did was fight off and survive a villain attack. I’m not sure how that’s arrogance. Have any of us gone out of our way to bother you?” 

You are sure your classmates haven’t, because though you have not known them long, you are observant enough to tell that they are good and dedicated to the path of Heroism. And you are right: he is wordless in the face of your diplomatic tone, the maturity of it all. 

But then⏤ a laugh, somewhat mocking. You think you recognize the voice, and you do: it’s class 1-B’s understudy, standing in the middle of the crowd. You have not talked to her much, thinking her quiet, but it seems that really, she just dislikes you. 

“That’s so rich of you to say,” She says, with a scoff. “Sucking up to Recovery Girl all the time, parading around like you own the place, all because you went viral and people started calling you The Best Healer of our Generation. ” 

You blink⏤ you remember Sueko mentioning it once, you think, after one of your co-workers, one of the older interns had started making videos of you, with your consent. You had not put much thought behind it, and you hadn’t the time to, between your many hours and the boneless weariness that had been so constant in your life after.

“Get off your high horse,” She snarls, a vehement finality to it, as she scans you, up, and then down. 

You don’t know what to say, because honestly, you had never thought of yourself that way; had not thought of any others thinking of you that way. There are cries of outrage from behind you, you hear, distantly, as if you are underwater, but you are still stuck on the way she scans you. As if you are less than what you are, reduced to the painted trim of your nails, the makeup on your face, less than what you are and undeserving. As if it does not matter that you go to the hospital more often than not, your features clear, your hair pulled up, and lose yourself in your work; the agony of your patients, healing them and then some more until your bones ache with the ghost of their pain and you drop dead to your pillow, your phone turned off. 

You are silent not because you are hurt, exactly⏤ you do not know this girl, and she does not know you⏤ but because you are so stunned. You don’t know what to say, because you have never thought yourself reduced to just this, less than what you are and undeserving. Distantly, you hear the cries of outrage, you feel yourself, adrift amidst an ocean, your hands clenching. You don’t know how to start, or what to even say.

But he does. 

“She doesn’t use social media,” He starts, and yes , you don’t, but how does he know? “It obviously wasn’t even her recording the videos, you fuckwit, and it says in the account biography that it’s owned and run by a friend.” 

You are staring at him, your heart held like hope in your throat. ( You think of your sunflowers. ) You don’t understand why he is saying this, why he is stepping in for you. ( You remember making fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You remember finding that you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He never calls himself your friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. )

He does not look at you, nor does he pause, and though there is anger in his voice, you think he is holding himself back. “High horse?” He laughs sardonically. “Get off yours. She’s already ten times the healer, hell, the Hero , you’ll ever be.” 

( He doesn’t call himself your friend, but he still stands up for you. )

You don’t know what sort of expression you’re making, but it has to be ugly, something complicated, not exactly bewilderment nor gratitude or simply hope but some combination of them all; something in between. 

“And what would you know? What are you, her guard dog?” She snarks back. 

And finally, you find your voice. 

“He does what he likes.” 

You are still watching him, and you see the way his hands clench, and then unclench. 

( You think very briefly of your sunflowers, and you think that you will always miss them. You can heal any wound on this earth, save the fatal ones, but you cannot heal the hole he has carved into your heart; not the one from this boy who knows you, every facet, both the good and the bad. You have never needed to hide the unsavory parts of yourself from him; after all, your very relationship was built upon a lie. You think a part of you has always loved him for it, will always love him for it⏤ this boy who is not your friend, has never been your friend, but still knows you, stands up for you, and believes in you, in all of you. And, you think, even if he does not care for you, there will always be a part of you that always cares for him. )

You turn to level her with a cool stare. 

“He’s right,” You say. “I don’t use social media, and before you call me a liar, just listen.” You add, as her mouth opens. 

( Your mother is a doctor, and when your Quirk develops, you know you want to go the same route. You have never even considered anything else; never even thought of being a Hero, until your sensei tells you that he might’ve pushed you for it, had you not already been so dedicated to the path. And you will not pretend like you have been good every step of the way ⏤ you are not that much of a good person. Your mother tells you to play nice , because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. You are not that much of a good person, you have never particularly cared to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you. You are grown now, better now, you know, but some elements of you still remain. You still wear your outfits like your armor, though it is not your hair but your makeup that is now your helm, you take time with your appearance and you take care of it every morning. Your volunteering at the hospital was not born entirely out of unselfish intention⏤ firstly because your mother said it was what you should do, and second because you thought the experience would look good, especially since you were applying to UA. But⏤ )

“I don’t know why you applied to UA, but I know why I did.” You say, simply. “It was because I wanted to become a healer, and this is one of the best places in the world to do it.” You straighten, jerking a finger at the ash-blond beside you. “We all went through the same application process. Take him, for example. He’s arrogant, he’s loud, and he always gets on your nerves. But that doesn’t make him any less passionate, or any less of a Hero. It doesn’t matter, because if you’re determined enough, strong enough, you’ll eventually rise to the top.”

You are the center of attention, but you have never been so aware of a singular set of eyes, burning straight into you.

You continue. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want to be, but that goes for the rest of you, too.” You jerk your thumb back to your classroom. “There’s a green-haired boy in there that everyone thought was Quirkless, including himself. But he had a dream that he dared to try for, and look where he is now.” 

You look at your fellow intern, the class 1-B one. 

“I don’t use social media for a variety of reasons, haven’t for a long while, and I won’t pretend like all of them were good. But ever since I started volunteering at the hospital, whenever I think about it, I think: every second I spend scrolling the internet could be another life lost. Someone I didn’t save, something I didn’t learn that could’ve helped someone in the future.” Your shoulders are set, and you lift your chin high. “You can think I’m a liar all you want, but I would hope, as a healer, you would be at least able to understand this.” 

She is mute, and you look at the rest of the crowd, wearing your outfit like armor, your makeup, your helm. 

You raise one eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Silence is your only answer, and you shrug.

“See you around, I guess.”

The crowd parts mutely before you, but then your wrist is clasped in a hand⏤ you think, very briefly, of sunflowers, but then you turn, and it is Mina grinning up at you, several others from your class in tow. “You’re so fucking cool,” She tells you, bright and genuine. 

You are not that much of a good person, never have been, and, you think, you are not entirely sure if you ever will be. You will never be entirely unselfish, free of your precociousness, your pettiness, your occasional lying habits, and all the other thousand-and-one flaws you could find in yourself, if you really tried. 

But you are growing. You are the same you that you were before, and you are also different. 

You grin at her. “I know I am,” You say. 

You are not that much of a good person, but you are growing, just as much the person you were before, as you are someone new.

You are a healer, you are yourself; this is who you are, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

His mother calls him out on his sulking, barely a week in.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She frowns, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“S’fine,” He snarls. “Keep your damn nose out of my business, old hag.” 

For once, his mother does not take him up on the challenge⏤ he almost wishes she would. He’s been itching for a fight, to get it out of his system somehow, but she’s always been able to read him⏤ just like you.

Mitsuki waves the phone in her hand. “Her father said she won’t be joining us for weekly dinners anymore⏤ she’s started volunteering at the hospital, and just won’t have time.” She states, plainly, and without judgment. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or if you’re still friends, but you were probably a little shit like usual, so get off your ass and go apologize.” 

Apologize. That damned word. He hates it. And he’s considered it, but then he remembers: you, your face, the way it had crumpled, and then the way you’d sneered, don’t talk to me again.

He has always been able to tell your lies from your truths, and it stunned him in the moment, because it had not seemed like so much of a lie. 

And it’s not. He sees the truth of it, a week later, when you skip out on your weekly dinners, accept your volunteer position, and cut the whole of him from your life, just like that. He sees the truth of it, on the first day of school, as he waits by your intersection and is almost late because you aren’t there, as he scans his class for your face and finds you absent, when you pass him in the halls and don’t even bother to look up. He sees the truth of it two months later, when that damned nerd stands at your table, a tray in his hands, and you allow him to sit. His heart is in his throat, clenching around something painful, there is smoke rising from his hands⏤ Deku looks up instinctively, flinching, and you do not even bother to turn. 

( You and your sunflowers, the way you smile like the sun when you find out he is allergic , and go out of your way to plaster sunflower-themed things all over yourself, and he’s not quite sure if they are your favorite flower, or you do it just because you hate him. But then he gets to know you, slowly and over the years, a thousand-and-one forced interactions until he finds, one day, that he is not reacting so sharply to your barbs, uncaring that you flop onto his bed and muss up the sheets, unminding of your chatter, your studious, stupidly competitive nature, the way your eyebrows knit a little when you focus on a more difficult concept, or how you’re grinning as you annoy him, rambling about anything and everything; your fictional crushes. You say you want to be a healer, and the first thing he thinks is: that’s stupid , why not a Hero?⏤ but your eyes are determined as you say it, there is a fire in them, and he sees that bleed into the way you do things; the way you act. You never call him your friend⏤ you have, once, very clearly a lie ⏤ but he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, promises to walk you to and from school, even if he does not know which one you might go to, promises to teach you how to fight. It’s stupid, he knows it is, the way he tenses when you joke that you want him to kiss you so bad because he’s imagining it. And then the guilt after, when you press your cheek softly into the curve of his nape, feeling the dried-out tracks of your tears, the way you shudder as you steal his pain⏤ barely-there, but he feels it, anyway. )

He looks at you, properly, fork crumpling in his hand. “Yo. You’re staring.” One of his friends nudges him, gently, and he forces himself to look away. 

( You, the sunflowers you bedazzle yourself in, your bag absent of them, and the way you never wear anything yellow ever again. )

He’s angry at you, at first. It’s unfair, he thinks, the way you seem to carve him completely out of your life, with all the practiced precision of a surgeon, that he spends almost all his time thinking about you, and that you do not do the same for him. You don’t want to talk to him, you’ve made that abundantly clear, and that’s fine⏤ he has his pride, and he is not going to beg you to stay. Not when you chose the nerd over him. 

But then you stand in the doorway. You look like you did the first day, clear-eyed, but older. Your eyes widen when they catch sight of him, ever-slight, but he’s never missed a single expression on your face, and he does not miss it now. All of a sudden, he wants to talk to you so badly that it hurts⏤ he sees the bags under your eyes and wants to tell you to sleep, the bone-weariness with which you carry yourself, your step absent of skip. 

But then, your gaze drops. He sees your bag, absent of its sunflowers. 

He feels as if his gut were a stone, heavy and damning. 

He remembers: you have never once thought of him as a friend, and he will not beg you to. He will respect your space, your wishes. 

And yet. You stand by the entrance, the day of that first class, fierce and silhouetted by the sun. Are you hurt? You ask him, and it feels as if he were floating, stuck in a dream.

He takes too long to respond, and you give him a once-over, clearly discerning he is fine. You kneel by the damn nerd’s side, and he feels the absence of your attention like a physical thing, but even that is secondary to the horror he feels when you reach the other boy; his arm painfully bruised and almost a terror to look at. 

He wants to say: you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt yourself. There are other healers in the building, and don’t you have a mentor? You raved about Recovery Girl all the time, there’s no reason you should be taking his pain for yourself. And the nerd will be fine ⏤ anger clenches at him, then, because if the nerd knows about your Quirk and still allows you to hurt yourself for him⏤ “Why does that even matter?” You ask him, and he hears the ghost of what you don’t say: why do you even care?

He does. Of course he does. He always has, even when you giggle to yourself about something so blatantly stupid, even when you are an entire pain in his ass. 

But then he thinks of you, your bag empty of sunflowers, the way you have not worn yellow since. 

His arm drops back to his side, and he says nothing more to you, just as you’d like. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You have always disliked crowds, but so has he. 

He is watching you when it happens, sees you lingering hesitantly by the exit. You’ll be smart about it, he’s sure⏤ he’s hotheaded, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid or blind. But then⏤ brown-haired cheeks tugs you by the wrist, forcing you into the throng, and he thinks: what the fuck? 

He knows it’s stupid, and that you won’t thank him for it, but he dives after you, anyway. 

He forces his way towards you, watching as you elbow someone particularly hard with a surge of pride, before he’s holding you and marching away, towards the wall, towards free space, trying not to think about how you feel in his arms, how you feel with the whole of you pressed against him. He needs to say something, anything to distract himself, so what he says is: “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t even like crowds.” 

Your cheeks are a little flushed, and you are staring at him. He feels his own warm in turn, and he feels like a kid again, heart like a sun in his chest. 

Your features still. Your mouth flattens, and you are cold as you say what you did not only a day before. “Why do you even care?” You ask.

He does. Of course he does. 

But you do not ask this question in hopes of an answer. Your gaze slides past, and then you go with it, refusing to give him even the time to reach for you. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the mist envelops him, the first thing he turns towards is you. 

His eyes widen⏤ you are already in the air, lunging at him, and he barely has the mind, the presence of thought to catch you. You fall as one, and his gut lurches⏤ he wraps himself around you, shielding your vitals, your head from harm, and gladly takes the brunt of the impact. He has all of a second to check up on you, to feel you pressed against him, know that you are safe, before he catches sight of more villains behind. “STAY THERE.” He shoves you into a corner, setting his back to you⏤ and when they are done, you have not moved an inch.

He sees the daze of your eyes, the shock, and cups your cheeks anyways, trying to ground you. “Oi,” He says, harsh, but also soft. “You hurt anywhere?” 

You blink up at him, and then at the red he barely feels sliding down the side of his cheek. 

He jerks away. He doesn’t want you to touch him, not to heal him⏤ he’s strong, he’s fine, he can deal with it, he doesn’t need you to steal his pain. Not when it’ll hurt you. 

“I am a healer,” You say, and his heart clenches again at the sound of your voice, and again when you tell him: “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

He hears the steel in your voice, lets you touch him.

He would give anything to curl into your touch, even if for the rest of your life, your relationship is just like this: he, the dog, and your favors, the bone. He wants it, so long as you will keep on touching him like this, and yet he also doesn’t want it, because he cannot bear to be the one causing you such pain. 

He is angry beyond words when the extra starts laying into you like she does, and you simply stand there, bearing the brunt of it all. 

He’s watched the videos, seen every single one. Seen how hard you work inside of them⏤ the comments talk about how beautiful you are, but all he can think of is the tired pallor of your face⏤ but what’s more is that he knows how hard you work outside , too, and who is this girl to even talk about you like that, when she doesn’t know what it’s like to take the pain of another, and make it into your own? His tone of delivery is quiet, no less than lethal, and he speaks with every ounce of pride he has in you and the person that you are. 

You are watching him, he thinks, and he thinks, somewhat dizzily, that this is it. You’ll chew him out in front of the crowd, call him out on his bullshit, tell him to stop speaking about you, speaking for you, that you hate him, that he’s stupid, anything and everything of the above. 

But you do not.

You only rise, and he thinks that you are not at all the girl he has known before. Some parts of you are the same, entirely unchanged, but you have grown⏤ so much that it takes his breath away. You have always been coolly elegant in your deliveries when you mean it, but this ⏤

He thinks: it is okay if you never want to talk to him, if you don’t care one bit. It is okay if you choose never to wear yellow again, your bag remaining empty of its sunflowers, it is okay if you carve him entirely from your life. 

He will respect your wishes, and watch from the sidelines, basking in the radiance of you: the healer, the girl, and simply everything that you are. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You should not be here. 

You feel terribly out of place in this darkened room, with a crowd of familiar villains before you, disoriented and groggy. 

If it were not for the ash-blond by your side, you think you might’ve started hyperventilating. You are quiet as you wake. You notice: his hands are bound, but yours are not⏤ they know you are a healer, you think, and they do not fear you. 

You feel, rather than see, crimson eyes slide to yours. You blink up at him. 

And then, his eyes flicker up.

You see the resolve set firmly onto his face. You know him, likely more than he does himself, which is why you know what he will say. 

He says: “I’ll listen. I’ll consider working with you, so long as you make sure to leave her out of it.” 

No. The word clangs into you with a force, a viciousness. You jolt upwards, so fast your head spins⏤ no. You know he won’t. He is a Hero to the core, and you know this, because you have decided early on that you will remain a step behind him always, even if he does not care at all for you, there and ready to steal away your pain. You have decided: you will see him live out all of his days, full of glory and entirely unscathed, victorious, and you will not watch him burn his life away like this, tucked away in a corner of this world, quietly and without a sound. 

He lies to protect you, and you decide there and then that it isn’t worth it. You know him, have spent a thousand and one days getting to know him, just as you know that his bluff will be called before long, because though Bakugou Katsuki is many things, you have always known him to be a terrible liar . 

You aren’t, though.

You straighten, and rasp. “No, he won’t.” 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

He watches you straighten, watches you drawl, and he feels a terror like ice creeping over his throat.

Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, soft and lovely under the candlelight, but then⏤ “Katsuki’s going to be a Hero,” You tell them, and his heart stutters because when was the last time you actually called him by his name? 

“Shut the fuck up,” He tells you.

You ignore him.

“Trust me when I say, this guy’s like, the biggest All Might fan you’ll ever see. Well, actually, maybe not the biggest⏤ Midoriya’s collection is insanely impressive, but you get the point. Did you really see his actions at the Sports Festival and think that was your opening?” 

You stand, a smirk on your face, and he wants to tell you to shut the hell up again, to just stop talking, but⏤ you turn, you flash him a grin, and it’s like he’s six again and seeing you for the first time. You see him, in a way no one else ever has, in a way that assuages all the criticism he’s seen since, narrowing his world down to these things: you, and your unwavering confidence in him. Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, you are scared and terrified and pretty much everything in between, but he hears your words, hears your truth.

“Newsflash, losers. He’s wanted to be a Hero ever since he was a kid, and nothing’s ever going to change that.” 

His heart swells so tight he thinks it’s going to burst. You, in this moment, like you still care , that he’s not alone in this, and that he cares for you more than anything else in the world, loves you more than you will ever know. 

You do not need to say anything else, because there is a knock on the door⏤ pizza delivery , someone calls, and then the door opens; All Might in the flesh. The heroes⏤ and then you are scrambling for him, your fingers fumbling with the knots, but he simply jerks his hands apart, tearing the fabric, and reaches for yours. 

You still a little, surprised, flinching back a bit, but his heart is singing⏤ you care , he thinks, somewhat dumbly, like a mantra bouncing around inside his head. He barely registers the rest of it⏤ he emerges by the ruins of a building, your hand still in his, piloting the both of you around the villains who try to keep you. Shitty Hair, calling down at him from the fucking sky⏤ what the fuck? but then he’s calling for you, and then there is you: looping your arms around his neck, knowing, instinctively, what he means.

His chest warms like the sun, ethereal and glorious. 

You blast together into the night. His hand lands upon another one, similarly callused, and then he’s curling his other around you, latching you to him. Your head is settled in the crook of his neck, and you don’t protest it in the slightest, only untangling yourself once you land.

You don’t reach for his hand once you do, but that’s okay. His heart is singing. 

He snarls at the others in his usual manner, and you assert yourself with your own. He follows you as you walk, a step behind. The others leave you at the police station, their own parents plenty concerned, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest⏤ he gets to walk you home, after all. 

You are silent as he does. He walks a step behind, and does not prod you. 

You stop. He does, too. Your hands ball up into fists. He watches, waiting. 

Finally, you whisper. “Why the hell’d you do it?” 

That is not at all what he’s expecting you to say.

“Hah?” He’s never been good with his words, always more combative than means. Particularly with you. Especially with you. “Cause I wanted to, dumbass. The hell do you want me to say?” 

You whip around and slug him instantly, punching him square in the gut. 

He barely bends from the force of it. You clutch your fist, teary and glaring. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. “ Fuck you , Katsuki. You don’t just get to pretend like you care when you want to, whenever it suits you! You don’t get to⏤” 

He’s stunned into silence. He’s the one that’s pretending like he cares about you?

Your mouth opens and closes, so angry that you cannot quite find the words. “You don’t get to just fucking try and sacrifice yourself for me! What the fuck!” 

He steps closer, disbelief lighting a second sun in his chest.

You lash out. “Stay away from me!” 

He catches it in his hand, and you try to fucking headbutt him. He dodges that, too, and then he’s pulling you into him, as tight as his heart feels.

You stiffen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s figured out how you really feel. 

“I’m sorry,” He rasps into your ear. “I care for you. I’ve liked you since we were fucking six, and you shoved your stupid fucking sunflowers in my face. I was angry. I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You do not move. Do not breathe, and for all of a second, he thinks: this is it. 

And then, you crumple. 

He can count the number of times he’s seen you cry on one hand, but you weep into his shoulder now, a year’s worth of repressed emotions wrung out of you in an instant. You melt into him so perfectly he feels as if he was made for you, the weight of you so perfect and familiar in his arms. “You’re so fucking stupid ,” He thinks you are saying though it’s somewhat unintelligible, between your sobs and the way your voice is muffled from being pressed into his chest. 

He chuffs in your ear. “Feel free to add blind and ugly to the list, if you’d like.” 

You laugh, broken and teary, but then your arms rise, and you are wrapping them around him.

He thinks: it’s okay if the world ends right then and there, so long as he gets to hold you; just like this; just then and there; just for a moment longer. 

( He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How your face had lit up in absolute delight at the sound of his first sneeze, and how you’d stepped forward to thrust it further into his face, a wicked grin on yours all the while. How you lie your way into weekly dinners, and he’s furious , swearing he won’t talk to his parents for the whole of a month⏤ but then you’re there, in his room and making fun of his figurines.

You say, somewhat disinterestedly, that you think you remember a new All Might one on the market. He caves, and his vow lasts only a week. 

He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How he had always hated the sight of them before you; a young god faced with his one mortal weakness, but as time went on, he learned how he did not quite mind the look of them on you. He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile; soft and lovely under the candlelight, scared and shaking and terrified but still believing wholly in him, just as he does you. 

He thinks he has loved you since forever. )

Absent-mindedly, he presses his mouth to your hair.

And in the light of the dawn, pink-streaked and painting you awash in yellow, you look up at him, and you smile. 

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! | t. fushiguro + k. nanami

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Taking your daughter to a sleepover with her best buds is easy peasy; ending up staying over at said sleepover to have some fun of your own with the two single dads you're crushing on? Not so much...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dilfs! Toji + Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; college friends au - implied you + Nanami are in early 30s; Toji is in late 30s - Tsumiki (age 10), Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara (8) - mutual pining/crushing - fluff then SMUT then fluff - kissing/making out - mutual masturbation (m! + f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - Daddy kink - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spoon/sidesaddle dp + reverse cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play (swiping) - praise - breeding kink - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly)- pet names (angel, baby, good girl, love, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - Nobara is your daughter; Yuuji is Nanami's - mention of drool/spit and tears - not proofread, will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask from one of my anons; so happy to be writing an actual fic after a month, yippeee!! and tysm for 7.7k, my loveliesss!!

“Hahah, I win again!”

“No fair, I used the aerials like you taught me, what!?

“Yeah, but there’s no point using them if you’re just gonna let Itadori counter.”

“Shut up, Megumi! Hey, Yuuji, one more time!”

“Hey, keep it down, you three.” You warn the children who cause a ruckus in the living room from the dining table. 

There’s nothing wrong with hanging with friends or going to someone’s house to play. Children are highly encouraged to do so to form deeper relationships! It’s what you’d want for your child, your sweet daughter poking out of her public shyness now that she’s playing video games with two of her best friends at a playdate.

Your daughter, Nobara, heard your warning and swerved her head back to apologize. “Sorry, momma! Itadori’s just cheating!”

“No, I’m not!” The pink-haired boy sitting next to your brunette daughter on the living room floor retorts. “She just sucks at playing!”

“Why you…” The two children glare and argue to themselves while another kid sits on the living room couch and sighs at the interaction before him. Megumi was his name, the raven-haired boy putting his attention back on the animal encyclopedia he was reading. 

You chuckle before speaking again, “Well, cheating or not, keep your voices down, okay? Tsumiki is trying to do her homework.”The kids nod and return to their fun on the television; the sounds of controller buttons mashing and clicking fill the absence of their voices, and you go back to what you were primarily doing. “Need any help there, Tsumiki?”

The fourth grader perks up from using her name, flashing a weary smile in your direction. “I’m trying to find these countries for my quiz on Monday, but where are Columbia and Guyana…?” The paper before the little girl exhibited a blank sheet with a map of the North and Southern American continents; a word bank is provided to the side with a list of countries. 

Getting up from your chair, you walk to the vacant side where Tsumiki is and sit alongside her. “Hmm, let’s look at this together…”

This wasn’t your home; it belonged to the father of Yuuji Itadori. Staying during your daughter’s playdates was a rarity, particularly in another parent’s house. Yet today is a Friday, and you didn’t really have much to do other than clean the apartment and maybe catch up on a show or two. Besides, it didn’t hurt to watch the kids play and laugh now and then.

Luckily, you aren’t the only parent here; two other parents are taking out of their day to monitor the kids with you! The only problem is that…they make your stay a bit difficult.

Footsteps are heard descending the hall from the bedrooms, and your eyes peer to find a man walking into the kitchen area. “How’s studying going?” Golden blonde hair was the first you see, followed by the pleasant look of his chocolate brown eyes. A slim-fit grey long-sleeved shirt hugs his frame well, accompanied by dark-fitted jeans and dress socks. Kento Nanami, Yuuji’s adoptive father, has entered the scene and has made your heart skip to an irregular tune.

Thankfully, saving you from making a fool, Tsumiko answers the man. “Good, Auntie Y/n is helping me remember the countries of South America!” She says with a blinding smile. 

“Is that so?” Nanami opens a cupboard to pull out a glass to pour water. “You think you’ll be okay for the quiz?”

“Mmmm, if I remember five countries out of ten, I should be fine. I know more, thanks to Y/n!”

“Good,” your breath hitches when he walks to stand behind the chair you were sitting on. “And how are those three?” 

You cough before averting your gaze to the living room. “They’re fine,” you watch your daughter exclaim in glory after finally beating Yuuji in the video game. The salmon-haired child groans in defeat, standing up to switch with Megumi so the other can play. “Nobara loves playing with the boys; they make her competitive spirit wild. It’s funny because she’s usually quiet and soft-spoken around me and others. However, that doesn’t explain her track record with terrorizing the boys of the school…”

Nanami chortles at your observation, the sound almost hypnotizing you. “Children bring out a different side in each other, helps them grow.”

“Wise words—“  

Grrooorrr!

You both stop at the sound of a rumble, glancing at Tsumiki to see that it is her grumbling stomach. The child chews her quivering lip and hides her face by looking back at her homework. You giggle, “You hungry?” She nods slowly. “Me too, sweetie; the pizza should be here any minute.”

“That’s odd,” Nanami takes a sip from his glass. “He said the food would be done by the time he’s off work. It’s almost 7 o’clock, is there traffic on—“

KA-CHA! CLACK-CLINK!

“Yo, I’m here with the pizzas,” another voice, a lot lower and gruff than the blonde’s, enters the space. Your heart skips again, your eyes instinctively looking to find the source — you know who the source is. 

Giant steps draw near the kitchen area, keys rustle as he stuffs them inside his jeans pocket, and the other hand holds three pizza boxes and his. After putting the food on the kitchen island, the man scratches his onyx head and stretches. His loose-fit cotton sweatshirt slips for a peak of his abs to be seen, and your eyes pull back before they hook onto the tanned skin for too long. Green eyes capture yours, and a smirk uproots the scar on the right of his lips. “Hey, Y/n,” the way he says your name pulls you in. “Good thing I caught ya before you could leave.”

You gulp to wet a dry throat. “It’s good to see you, too, Toji.”

Toji Fushiguro, the father of Tsumiki and Megumi, strides from the island down to where you three are, ruffling his daughter’s brown hair as a greeting. “How’s homework going?”

She swats her father’s hand away from her hair, fixing her ponytail. “It’s okay, I’m just hungry now.”

On that note, you decided it was time for everyone to take a break and eat. “All right, kids, the pizza’s here; come over and eat!”Nobara wastes no time springing out of the couch and sprints for the dining chair next to Tsumiki after you stand to grab the paper plates. 

The boys don’t move, eyes glued to the screen and fingers moving across the controllers. Nanami tries to get their attention again, only for Yuuji to excuse themselves for a few minutes. The golden-haired father looks to the other before giving him a curt nod, a signal for Toji to walk to where the boys were sitting and turn off the television. They groan in unison before the black-haired man picks them up and waltzs back to the dining table. “Time to eat, squirts.”

You have known Nanami for a long time, meeting the two around when Nobara was still aged by months and could barely walk. Being a first-time parent is no easy task, especially since the man took the Yuuji as his own after the death of the baby’s parents and grandfather when he was just a newborn. The transition from sober salaryman to committed fatherhood wasn’t an easy one. But you know what they say: it takes a village, no matter how big or small. You found Nanami at the perfect time while you took care of Nobara, lending a helping hand to the single guardian whenever he needed advice or help looking after the pink-haired babe. He’d return the favor, of course, having you two spending and getting to know more about each other throughout the years. So, as the babies grew and became friends, so did you and Nanami. 

Toji entered your life around the same time as well; a single father of two was just as [if not more] challenging as your scenario. Not to mention – the poor man had to work ungodly hours, sometimes calling up a friend to look after his kids. You felt for him, even Nanami, so you’d help him out as well whenever he needed it, whether it be picking up Tsumiki and dropping her off at daycare or rocking three-month-old Megumi to sleep and waiting for the father to return home safely deep in the night.

Without the hood of parenthood, you three wouldn’t have become such good friends. Although there have been rough moments, at least you had the two to share and relate with if necessary. You’re so thankful for both fathers being in your life, serving as dependable outlets as you three grow along with your children. And it’s an even bigger blessing watching the kids have become great friends — practically inseparable! Words cannot express the gratitude for Nanami and Toji, treasuring the men so much that you’d love to maintain this mutual relationship with them as long as possible.

Being friends is more than enough; however, a tiny piece of yourself wishes something more to come out of this friendship. Admitting that to yourself is enough to have your ears heat up in shame. Crushing on the two fathers like some school girl, how embarrassing…

But can you blame yourself? As you all sit down and eat around the dinner table, you find it hard to restrict your eyes from wandering to either side of the table where the men sit. 

Don’t get it twisted; you’ve always thought of the dads to be attractive men. However, the more time you’ve spent visiting and getting to know them, you’ve found that they’ve become more and more charming as the years go by. Now, it has gotten a lot worse.

Nanami is so entrancing to the eye — damn near looks as if he’d walked out of a movie set. His mocha eyes were so soft and perfect with his mellow tone. The charismatic blonde easily played with your heart with how attentive he was with you, making sure if you and Nobara ever needed anything or ever wanted someone to voice with. God, he was too good to be true, always gentle whenever he was around or looking out for you. It was hard not to fall in love with — you were damn near mesmerized the moment he first said your name. Now, solely seeing him is enough to make your ears hot and your heart race. Your admiration for him threatens to dwell into that of a childish crush — embarrassing! 

And Toji — fuck, that man. Aside from having a body literally sculpted like an Olympic athlete, the dark-haired man was somebody who knew how to wind you down. Maybe it was the baritone voice that always captured your attention or the mischievous jokes and flirts he’d throw your way; whatever it was, Toji knew how to draw you in. Sure, you were a little intimidated by him at the start, but that’s long been substituted with feelings of trust and mutual respect from seeing how much of a good father he tries to be for his children. Although, the more you hear his gruff laugh, see his smile pull the scar, or forest green eyes drilling holes into your very being, the more you want to slap yourself for thinking about him day by day!

Goddamn it! As you sit at this table chewing on your pizza slice with the others, all you can think about is how pathetic you must be for falling for the two heartthrobs of your life. It’s appalling how these two fathers have yet to snatch up somebody, knowing there would be lines of people wanting a piece of them. And you sigh heavily, thinking if there’s ever a possibility you’d ever be lucky enough to be on the receiving end with either.

Probably not…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Annnnd BAM! UNO!”

“What?? You’re cheating!”

“Am not! You can put draw twos on plus fours!”

“Hah!? That’s not in the rules!”

“So? That’s how my mom plays.”

Why am I being brought into this… You shake your head as you observe the kids play their final card game before bed. All the children are dressed in their respective pajamas, sitting in a circle around couch pillows as they draw and place cards down. The sunset has long been set as the hour hand touches the eleventh number; the kids usually go to bed at eight or nine. But it’s the weekend and meant to be a sleepover, so one or two more hours of fun shouldn’t hurt anyone.

“UNO Out!!” Except for the heavy groans shared with Megumi and Yuuji as Nobara finishes the card game with an enthusiastic slam, turning around to give the older brunette a high five. “See, Tsumiki? I told you I can handle it!”

“Man, that’s not fair,” Yuuji throws his card pile to the floor in exasperation. “Wish I knew about that rule beforehand.”

Megumi does the same, “You should’ve made the rules clear before we played the game.”

“Wahh, keep complaining, loser,” Your daughter annoys the boy with a blown raspberry. “Fine, we can try again; if I win, I’ll have Yuuji's bed to myself and Tsumiki.”

“Not happening!” You and the salmon-haired child deny the winner’s request, and the girl only snickers mischievously while Tsumiki deals the cards. 

Saved by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, Nanami is now here to dismiss the bunch. “All right, kids, time for bed.” Every one of them mourned at the statement; Yuuji quickly requested five more minutes, only to be shut down by his father. “Nope. I’m done with my shower, so you four must get to bed — that was the deal.”

“Aww man…” The four begrudgingly get up from the living room floor after putting the cards away and setting the pillows back on the couches. Before they leave, they wish you a good night. “Goodnight, Mom!” Nobara comes rushing to you for you to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetpea,” you let go of her so she could run back. “And you three — where are my kisses?” Yuuji and Tsumiki happily come for you to place a goodnight kiss on their cheek. All that’s left is the silent child of the bunch who, unfortunately, doesn’t slip past your eyes. “That means you too, Megumi. Or else I’ll chase you down and kiss you up a storm like last time, you hear?”

The black-haired one fights a smile creeping his face, slowly taking steps to where you sat and fidgets as you kiss his cheek. You wish the boy goodnight, and he follows the others down the hall to the bedroom after doing the same. 

“Fushiguro’s in the shower now.” Now that the children are gone, Nanami sits on the left side of the couch before dimming the ceiling lights. He turns on the television, “Seems like they’re having fun.”

“Mmm, they are,” you settle by the middle to be close to him. “I can’t believe they’re all so big now. Didn’t Yuuji just turn nine years old last month?”

“Mhmm, he’s now the same age as Nobara and Megumi,” he says with a smile. “For a little while, that is. He is the youngest, after all.”

“You’re right, poor thing.” You giggle with a stretch. “Nobara’s gonna be nine this August, and Megumi at the end of the year…”

“Hmm. We are old.”

That made you laugh hysterically as the delivery of the comment sounded so defeated yet true. It’s okay, though, since Nanami was laughing himself with a shaken head. “Don’t say it like that! They say you get sexier during your thirties.”

“Are you sure about that? My grandfather has photos from his thirties, and he was balding and getting chunkier before turning thirty-five.” More laughter seeps through your lips. “I don’t know, Y/n; not all of us can keep fit like Fushiguro; he still works out while halfway approaching forty.”

“Now, hold on, Nanamin,” you grin while pointing to Nanami, and you can see him try to fight a smile after using the nickname he supposedly doesn’t like. “You can’t say shit, either; you still look like a model coming straight out of a Men’s Vogue magazine!” That made him laugh more, the sound warming your heart.

“Why thank you, Y/n,” he appreciates the compliment.

“Of course.” 

The silence following that felt unsettling and had you fidgeting with the bottom of your halter top. Five uncomfortable minutes of nothing but the lowered volume of the television to fill the space. Come on, Y/n, keep the conversation going. “So, almost ten years, huh? A whole decade.” You watch Nanami nod along through your peripheral. “I remember the first time I met you; you looked like you barely got any sleep for the past month.”

“Because I didn’t. I was hassling with back-to-back meetings, on the cusp of finding another job to take outside of being a salaryman, and then had little newborn Yuuji to come home and put to sleep after feeding. Thank God you could babysit for him with Nobara; I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh God, I remember when you came home so tired while I was rocking both to sleep. I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever seen you fall asleep on the couch; so tired you forgot to greet me!” 

“We don’t talk about that,” he scratches his ear. “That wasn’t so bad when we promised to watch over Megumi and Tsumiki during the weekend while Fushiguro went to take up so many jobs. He fell to his knees once he passed the threshold, and I had to walk him to his bed.” 

You tittered at the recollection — all the memories mentioned made you feel warm and glad, all the years coming back to you with a happy memory. “We’ve done good, though. We managed, and the kids are growing to be good friends.”

“Before you know it, maybe Nobara will come to you about liking the boys—“

“That isn’t happening; I asked her the question like three weeks ago, and she said if she and the boys were the last people on Earth, she’d kill herself.” Nanami gasped and stifled a laugh, but you could see his shoulders bounce. “A third grader — an eight-year-old – telling me she’d off herself rather than be with one of the boys. Talk about radical...At least she loves to hang with them; she loves those boys like they’re her little brothers.” 

The blonde hums to your words. “Them being close is such a blessing. I guess that’s thanks to us, having each other’s backs all these years.” 

It’s your turn to nod to him. “True, and I’m just glad they like being with each other.”

“Same here; Yuuji likes being with you guys,” he throws his head back. “…Just like I do.”

You blink. “What do you mean?” Suddenly, you feel as though you shouldn’t have asked that question because the way Nanami turns his head to look at you nearly paralyzes you. Oh my God…

“I like being with you.” He says it tenderly, only for your ears to pick up. “You make me feel at peace when you’re around, and I’m not as close to anyone as I am with you. A decade of you being in my life has made it more serene and…fun. So, I like it when you’re with me.”

You didn’t breathe a single puff of air during his speech. The worst part was that these were Nanami’s words — they were genuine. You could feel it in his bronze gaze, your heart unable to control itself. 

And it doesn’t help that your eyes took in every detail of him; his hair, usually neat and styled, is now down and damp from the shower, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His home wear comprised a loose sweatshirt and dark grey sweats, but you snuck a glance of his collarbone that peaks from the opening collar of his shirt. You move your gaze to the floor to stop yourself from looking any further, or else more fuel for indecent fantasies will be fueled for later!

Fingers fiddle with each other as you chew on your lip. God, Y/n, just fucking say it! “I, uhh…I like being with you, too, Nanami.”

“Do you really have to go?” He scoots in. “You know I don’t mind you staying over.”

“I—ahem—I think, yeah…I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and Toji; I’m sure you two would wanna catch up on stuff. I’ll just come back and pick Nobara up in the morning before—”

You stop uttering more once you feel a sudden hand on your right shoulder. Turning to your left, you didn’t even realize Nanami scooting to be so close to you, his face a hand’s length away from yours. Once again, you have forgotten how to breathe. And when he places his left hand on your right that lies on your lap? You don’t move a centimeter.

“I want you to stay,” his tone low and sincere. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I like you being around me. I…” He brings your hand to his lips, and a soft kiss makes you gasp faintly. “I love it, actually.”

You gulped. There’s no way this is happening right now. There’s just no way! “Kento—“

“I mean it.” He kisses your knuckles again, his eyes locked in with yours. He chuckles, “You were right.”

“About…what?”

“As you grew older, you have changed quite a lot. You’re…Well, no, you’ve always been pretty. But, all these years, you’ve become a lot more beautiful,” he draws his face in closer. “Breathtaking,” you instinctively close your eyes when his nose brushes yours. “Sexier.”

Nanami’s lips land on yours on the final word, and you don’t move a muscle when he does so. They felt soft against yours, perfect for the mellow kiss. It doesn’t last long, only a few seconds. Yet you quivered as he withdrew, placing his forehead against yours as his hand weaved with your fingers. 

“Ken…” Fuck, this is too much. The hand on your shoulder exhibits no interest in getting off. “I can’t, I have to—“ he shushes you with another kiss. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” What the fuck!? Did he just use a pet name on you? “You know I can take care of you, right? Even for one night,” you tremble when he licks your bottom lip. “Stay for tonight, okay?”

“Kento..” He pauses when you hesitantly remove your right hand from his grasp, thinking you’d push him off. But then you bring both hands to cup his sunken cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs. “…More.”

He doesn’t wait a second, accepting your request and bringing his back on yours. Small pecks to the lips gradually become more arousing and tilted heads to achieve a better angle for entry. You moan to his mouth, and so does he. Tongues slowly become adventurous, twirling with each other and exploring the other’s mouth. It feels so good; you lean into Nanami’s hold with every kiss. And he happily accepts you as he gives you more. 

Jesus Christ, something straight out of a dream. And if it was, you only hope to indulge in this fantasy for a little longer. More, more—

“What do we have here?”

However, you can’t indulge in it if another person comes into the frey unsuspectedly. 

Two bodies retreat from each other, sitting awkwardly on the couch appropriately as Toji walks into the living room. Your lips shook with anxiousness, stealing a glimpse of Toji’s smirk as he walked to your right. You sneak a glance at Nanami, seeing the shade of pink rise on his skin lightly, and you cover your face to shield yourself. Fucking fuck, this is embarrassing!

“Don’t act all shy on me now, you two.” Toji’s weight dents the right side of the couch, extending his arm to be behind you. “Don’t be scared, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Did you check the kids?” Nanami fakes a cough.

“Out like a light,” he answers, creeping his hand from behind onto your shoulder. You shudder at his calloused touch and gruff laugh. “What’s goin’ on, Y/n?” You meekly turned to look at him. Same with Nanami, Toji’s dark hair was damp from the shower, substituting his day outfit with a blank tank top and grey sweatpants. It took everything in your power not to peek at his pecs or exposed biceps. 

You avert your eyes from his. “Nothing…” You saw his chest jerk from a scoff. 

“Wow, you two are really gonna act like some kids, huh.” His snark remark has you both flattening your lips in shame. “Act all quiet when somethin’ happened.”

He prompted you to question. “How much…did you see?”

“I saw the kiss — you looked like you were enjoyin’ it.” He purposely said that to make your cheeks hot, the brazen bastard. “But I heard Kent here say he means it when he likes havin’ ya ‘round.”

Nanami speaks up while scratching his brow. “Y/n was, uhh, just about to leave.”

Toji lifts a brow. “Leaving? When the night is still young?” He subtly shakes you. “Why so soon, hmm? It’s the weekend; I just got outta the shower an’ hoped you’d be here a little while.” He spoke to you slowly. It was a dangerous approach with that husky voice. He squeezes your shoulder when you’re not answering. 

“I just….You and Nanami probably have some ‘guy stuff’ you wanna catch up on, and I don’t want to come in between that, you know?” It’s here you muster the courage to look at the raven-haired man; big mistake, now he has your attention where he wants it.

“So considerate, huh,” his free hand comes to your cheek, and you’re frozen as he plays with the flesh of it. “I think you should stay, Y/n. What kind of friends would we be if we let you drive out late." 

It’s hard to remind your body to breathe when Toji is surveying you intimately. What the fuck—why is this happening all of a sudden!?? “You–Toji, it’s okay, I’ll—“

“Besides,” he teases you by rubbing your earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “I like you bein’ here, too.” You’re too distracted from him bringing his face to your neck to kiss, evoking an unstable gasp. “Lookin’ all pretty fr’ me…”

“Toji…—Ahh!” You didn’t notice him slide his hands down to the chest area of your halter top, his large hands groping your breasts affectionately. His kneads are rough yet pleasing, having you whimpering for him. “Don’t touch so…Hahhh…”

“Bad girl,” he chuckles to your ear after placing a kiss on your cheek. “Over here letting Kent touch you and think you can leave without me havin’ you for a bit, especially when you were eyeing us up earlier today...” He kisses your lips to take in your silent squeaks from fondling your chest, and you mewl for him. “Daddy wants to have you, too, baby…Heh, so does Kent.”

You peer to your left to see the mentioned man, and you’re taken aback to see him close to your side again. Holy shit. You literally questioned yourself about this earlier, wondering if you’d ever be on the receiving side of these two. You did NOT expect this answer to come out of the blue on the same day! And now that it’s here, how could you leave now?! This is what you wanted. And – to your surprise – so did they. 

You swallow spit and lift your left leg to the couch. And Nanami notices the initiative, coming between your legs to kiss your lips again. Your back pressed against Toji’s chest, you’re caged between the two men who seek to pleasure you in this proximity. You moan to Nanami sucking on your tongue, coinciding with the pleasing kneads of your breasts. 

Suddenly, Nanami breaks the kiss with a groan, and Toji chortles close to your ear. Curious, your eyes venture down to find that Toji’s hand grasps the tent of the blonde’s sweatpants. “Enjoyin’ yourself, huh, Kent?” Toji strokes his hand on the boner, evident through the clothes.

“Toji, st—Hnnn…!” You watch this, eyeing Nanami’s composure slip away as his cock is being touched. The older man willingly massages his friend’s dick, and you observe how he effortlessly makes the golden-headed man hornier with his hand alone. It makes you feel hot, sensing a throbbing sensation in between your thighs. So, you silently bring a hand to sneak inside the hem of your wide-leg jeans. 

But you don’t go unnoticed because Toji kisses your cheek. “Like what you see, sweetie?” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “Want me to take care of you? Here,” he then takes your hand to swap with his, your fingers feeling the rough skin of Nanami’s cock as you hold it. “Make him feel good, ‘kay?” 

You couldn’t believe it — Nanami’s hot, living cock was in your grasp. And as you have begun to stroke him, the noises he made turned you on even more. His veins are felt in your very palm, precome exuding from his urethra drip lubricate the pretty fingers around his length. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel to have him ease the aching pulses between your legs, how good it would feel to have his girth massage your insides.

But your crude thoughts are interrupted by Toji’s left hand skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, slithering inside your panties, and meeting your wet cunt with his fingers. You jolt, but he’s right there to coo, “Relax, mama,” his free hand squeezes your chin to turn and face him. “Daddy’s gotcha…So fuckin’ beautiful,” Toji slams his lips into you for a steamier kiss, and you can’t help but lose yourself.

Your hand on Nanami goes faster, eliciting extra precome to escape and stain the material of his sweats. Nanami leans forward to lick and suck the skin of your neck, forcing you to break the kiss with Toji to wail inaudibly while his fingers brush up on your soaked folds with unforgiving speed. Not to mention his bulge grinding against your back…

“Ahhnn, wait, guyss, we can’t—Mmmm…!” Toji kisses you again, grinning at your expression as he sucks and nibbles on your tongue. “We can’t do this…Not here…”

“Why?“ Nanami blows on your ear. “What’s wrong, love?”

CREEAAKK!!

That’s what’s wrong!

Like a flipped switch, all three adults unscrew themselves away from each other and sit back into their original positions. Nanami immediately pulls his pants back up, using a couch pillow to hide the situation that shouldn’t be present as he’s sitting in the living room. Toji follows suit, leaning on the couch arm. 

Sounds of tiny footsteps draw near, and they belong to none other than your daughter, who sleepily rubs her eyes coming into the space. You are the first thing she sees, “Mom? You’re still here?” 

“Mhmm,” you hoped you didn’t sound too off. “I’m just watching a movie with Uncle Toji and Kento. What are you doing up?”

“I thought I heard your voice,” Nobara walks to you and puts her head on your shoulder, and you voluntarily pick her up to have her sit on your lap. You couldn’t help but smile; even though she’s growing day by day, she’s still your baby at heart. “Didn’t you say you’d leave once I went to bed?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to,” the two men sitting on either side of the couch say nothing. “And I can’t go now, seeing you’re still up.”

Nobara nuzzles into your neck. “Does that mean you’ll spend the night, too?” 

“Mmm, I wish I could, sweetpea,” you kiss her forehead. “But I didn’t bring any change of clothes or pajamas. I don’t even have my toothbrush – I’d be walking around with stinky breath.” You hear the girl giggle at your words.

What you just said gave the two fathers an idea, the men giving each other a look before saying anything. “I have some unused travel-size toothbrushes and toothpaste I’ve kept from business trips.” Nanami inquires; you put your foot in your mouth on that one.

Toji adds, “You can use the sweatshirt I wore today as PJs. I don’t mind.”  

Of course, you don’t.  Shaking your head, you knew what the two were insinuating. The adult language is too nuanced for your daughter to pick up on. It’s not like you’ve never slept over Nanami’s place before; you’ve done it dozens of times — even Toji’s! However, this time was different; you three have crossed a line you didn’t think was possible. What happened minutes ago was a mere taste of what could happen if you three decided to change this relationship into something more intimate. And now, after revealing the curiosity, the men were all in to see it through.

…And yet, you can’t say you don’t feel the same either. Are you kidding? You have goosebumps just thinking back on how close you three were, how their hands and lips felt on your skin, and their attention placed on nothing – on no one else – but you. It made your heart beat uncontrollably, knowing that your decade-long crush on them was being favored in more ways than one — like a dream come true!

“Mom?” Snapping back to reality, you peer to Nobara, who awaits your answer. With a smile, you boop her nose with a finger.

“Only if you go back to sleep, sweetpea.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The hour hand had finally met the twelfth number, the midnight hour designating the quiet neighborhood into a calm slumber. Light posts automatically turn on to display the sidewalk, yet the darkness of the night serves as a blanket to cover the silent homes. 

Nanami’s home was simple — a one-floor house perfect for the blonde man and his son. Aside from the living room and kitchen, it had a hall that harbored the bedrooms, Yuuji’s guest bathroom, and closet. The children were all resting in Yuuji’s room, the first door to the left you’d meet when entering the hallway. Other than the master bedroom, there was no other room besides the living room couch for you to sleep in. 

Being by yourself is something Nanami wouldn’t want, and Toji would’ve primarily taken the couch since you had no plans of staying. But since that’s been changed, the two men took this opportunity to enjoy their sleepover with your company, using the master bedroom at the end of the hall to further themselves from the ears of the snoring kids. Tonight, you’d finally have your answer by being spoiled by your crushes all night.

“Dahhh, Toji, yer tongue…fingers…Ohhh!”

“Fuck, Y/n, you look so gorgeous…Here, kiss me, angel.”

“Mmmm, fuckin’ shit, y’ taste so good…Waited so long 

You were practically stuck with them the moment they locked the door. After borrowing Nanami’s shower, your nude body was met with hungry hands and hot kisses, drowning your senses with their overwhelming presence. Three naked bodies lie on the bed, you with your back to the sheets and legs spread. To your right was Nanami, making out with you lovingly while a hand cups and massages a breast. Toji had his face nestled between your thighs, his tongue licking around your labia and fucking your vagina, inspiring you to cry for the blonde next to you. The older man also pleases you by fingering your asshole with lube, conditioning it for future use.

You melt into Nanami’s kiss, and soft tweaks on your nipple make you mewl into his lips more. But you withdraw to scream, “Ahhaaa! Kentoo, touch me more…”

“Hmm? What, baby?” He presses his lips to your cheek, kissing your chin to the outlet between your neck and shoulders. “You like it when I play with your breasts?” A low snicker humors him from watching you nod, and he brings his mouth to your nipple to suck on. 

You grip the sheets, “Ohhh, hooo…! Tojiii, y’re gonna make me c—Uuuhh!”

He separates his mouth from your soapy folds, and your liquids stick to his chin. What an obscene sight with the grin he has on his face. “Yeah? Ya wanna come on my mouth, mama?” Unlike Nanami, Toji doesn’t take a nod; he’s a bit of an asshat, so he licks your clitoris to tease. “Use them words, baby; wanna hear you say it fr’ me.”

“Y–Yesss, yes, I do,” a hushed howl after Toji sucks on your pearl and the other rubbing on your nipple to the roof of his mouth. “Pleaseee, I wanna cum…!”

“Heh, well, don’t go cummin’ on me just yet,” he kisses your slit before straightening up and pats your inner thigh. “All ready fr’ ya, Kent.”

Nanami then releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and maneuvers to lay on his side. “Come here,” he asks,  resting your head on his arm and lifting your leg. You hum at the contact of his glans meeting your cunt, “So wet for me, huh?” He pushes his cock to the entrance, and you gasp at the tip inserted into your vagina. “Relax, angel,” he coos to you with a kiss on your nose, gauging your reaction as he slowly snugs your vagina with every inch of his cock. 

Your mouth goes agape at the stretch of you taking him in; the feeling of his cock feels too good and surreal. And the brush of his dick on your sweet spots has you squeak, same with him poking on your cervix. He throws in a few thrusts to start, but you didn’t expect that. No, fuck! He rubs on your walls at a right angle, prompting your orgasm to come a bit too quickly to comprehend. So, you have to bite your lip to keep your scream hushed, letting the flutter of your cunt speak for you. 

And Nanami notices it, hissing at the contraction. “—Hnnm! Shit…Did you come, sweetheart?”

“Oh, did they?” And here comes Toji, straddling both the bodies below him. He leans into your face, licking your ear. “Felt that good, huh, baby?  We haven’t even started.” He kisses your forehead before uncurling back up and aligning his dick to your lubed anus. Then, he pushes the tip to be swallowed by your puckered hole, and you mumble small prayers as his fat length is pushed inside. “Shit, this tight ass…”

The older man begins to move into you, his shaft churning the inside of your ass. Nanami does the same, his cock scraping your insides synched with Toji’s rhythm. The movement has you immediately making noise beyond your control, wails bouncing around from the space between you and the men. 

It isn’t long before the two find a groove; Toji pistons his cock with every pull out of Nanami’s, and sounds of skin slapping lasciviously against each other are picked up by your ears. How could you not tighten more around the limbs inside you, especially when they scrape on against your tender wails so accurately? Especially after coming, your nerves have not yet recovered from the wave earlier. 

“Ohh! Hoooh fuuuck,” your back arches a bit, helping the sand-haired man to find a better angle to scratch the upper wall of your vagina. Your vision is screwed shut, making it easier to indulge in the sensation of their cocks ravaging your insides. 

Toji sees you from up top, his eyes traveling down to your ass and whistling at the sight of you taking his and the other’s dick. “Damn, you feel so good, Y/n. Ass so tight, act like you don’t wanna let me go.”

God, why’d he have to say it like that? Your face was hot enough; did he want to make you melt on this bed? And Nanami doesn’t make it any better. “Hehe, they twitched,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, felt it, too…What’s goin’ on, sweetie?” Toji pulls his cock until his cockhead is on the verge of coming out, and he slams it back down to have you moan aloud. “Ya like bein’ fucked like this? Takin’ Daddy’s cock like a good girl…”

“They’re gripping me again.”

“Kento, stoop!!” The fair-headed man laughs at your protest, your resilience still present even if it’s wiped away in seconds when Toji quickens his pace with the other. “Nnhhh…! N-Not too fast, I’m sensit’veee—Ahhh!” 

“You say that, but you’re body says otherwise, love,” Kento brings a hand to your hip to massage. “—Nnnn! Jesus…wanna cum inside so bad…”

Oh, fuck, imagine: being filled to the brim by Nanami’s come? Being stuffed by both of them? It turned you on so bad. “—OhhhGod, please, cum inside me!”

Gold eyebrows furrow. “I can’t, baby; don’t got a condom on—“

“It’s okay, I want it…!” The thought of getting pregnant again should be the very last thing that should pop into your mind right now. And yet, being knocked up by these two has you craving Nanami’s release even more. “Pleaseeplease, I want you to fill me up…! Don’t hold back for me, Kenty.” You can tell he’s still on the fence about it. But with a kiss on his nose and a soft hand on his cheek, you convince him otherwise.

“Wanna be the mother of my child so bad, huh?” He says with a chortle, “So beautiful…” Before he snaps his hips into you, Nanami brings you in for one more kiss and wraps his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. He ruts into you with purpose, making sure he’s balls-deep with every push and reaching the deepest he can. You howl at the brush of your cervix again, allowing him to use you to chase his climax.

“Oh? You got him going, now,” Toji comments from above with a smirk, still maintaining the pace with Nanami despite the younger male going erratic. Your screams go higher and higher, so you bring in a hand to cover up the noise. This was not the time to test how thick the bedroom walls were, despite the kids sleeping a closet and office away. 

Nanami groans into your lips; his length relentlessly rubs your silky texture. And when his orgasm does reach him, he grinds his pelvis, stirring his length so deep that you can’t help but writhe with him. You can feel his penis pulsate with every pump of his load inside you, satisfying your excitement as your hand massages his skull. He keeps you like this until his body has calmed down, sluggishly removing his pillowy lips from yours with a sigh. 

Chocolate brown orbs are fixated on yours, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe spit from your face. “God, you drive me crazy. Making me cum inside, one child’s not enough?”

You titter, “Well, wouldn’t hurt to have another, you think?…Mmmm,” you almost forget about Toji. The raven-haired man removes himself from your ass, his shaft still standing.

“Don’t forget ‘bout me, now,” he reminds you two of his presence, getting his frame off you both so you can move around. 

You stand with your knees between Nanami’s legs while he sits upright. “Come here,” he places his hands on your hips and leads you back onto his cock. This time, he’s the one entering your asshole, and you both moan at the union of your sexes. Once your ass meets the base of his pelvis, his arms wrap around your waist and carefully bring you down with him. Your back to his chest, his lips to your ear. “So tight and warm…Hmmm.”

This position is new to you – in fact, this was all new! You can’t remember the last time you had your body this close and intimate with another figure. It’s been so long, damn near bizarre, especially when your heat is transferring with the gold-haired man behind you. The aroused hums to your ears have you throb involuntarily; you could melt into his arms right about now.

That thought goes out the window when the dent of Toji’s weight has you looking in front of you, and your brain nearly shuts down at the sight of the older man coming in between your legs to lift them, his emerald eyes locked on yours. Jesus, fuck! You had to turn away – it was all too much! 

“Ah ahh, don’t go turnin’ ‘way from me,” he gives your legs for Nanami to hold from the back of your knees, and then he cups your cheeks and moves your face back to him. “Waited almost ten years to have you like this, so I wanna see all of you, mama.” Just when your face couldn’t get any more unreasonably hot, this handsome bastard just had to say that while fondling your chest! And it doesn’t help the other charming face is placing kisses on your neck. 

Toji uses this position to spread your folds; he can’t suppress the ardent smirk lifting his scar. “Kent did his thing on you, and ya still want more, huh?” You press your lips together when he slaps his glans on your leaky chasm. “Watch...” Your eyes follow down to the tip of his dick, vulgarly using the come seeping out of you as lube. You gasp sharply at the insertion, “Relax fr’ me, baby,” he coaxes you through every inch of him, burrowing inside your inner channel that you almost forget to breathe from the display. The girth of him has you wail beneath him, and you cry at the poke of your cervix again! Christ, you don’t know how long you can do this. 

“—Hnngh…! Fuck, good girl,” the dark-haired one praises, grinding his pelvis down to churn more friction inside you. “So good fr’ Daddy...”

Slow ruts to your chasm begin the second round, three bodies rocking within a mutual cadence. You throw your head back with shut eyelids concentrating on the two dicks that push to and fro from your holes and scrape your walls. And a choked scream leaves your frame at the jab of your cervix again. 

“Ohhhshiit,” eyebrows furrow with a chewed lip, and the two men begin to quicken the pace. “HooohGod! F’eel so good…Ahahhn!”

Toji puts his hands on the headboard as leverage, using his hips and the flex of his abdomen to take control. Fuck, seeing his nude physique so up close was too marvelous; it couldn’t be true — it shouldn’t be! 

And Nanami is no better while whispering to your ear. “Feeling good, Y/n?” He teases your lobe with a lick, “Gripping on us like crazy as if you’ve been waiting for this, hmm?” You try to protest, but all that comes out are sobs when he jerks his hips unexpectedly. He chuckles, “So cute…Hmm? Heh, you are feeling good, huh, love.”

Can you believe it? Being fucked by these two attractive men, and you’re fingering your clit in the midst of it all? Embarrassment rings your ears as your fingers swipe and grind around the neglected pearl. Toji and Nanami share a look for a split second, and then Nanami switches his hands with the other. Instead, an arm snakes around your waist to keep you on him, and the other silently moves yours aside to play with your clit. 

That only has you crying even harder. Pinches to your clit and kisses to your leg accompany the increased speed of their thrusts. Tears well up at every jolt of your body from the frequent jabs to your vaginal walls, scraping your G-spot so precisely. And the length in your butt keeps feeling so fucking good! Grazing your velvet texture that you can’t think straight.

“—Gaahhh! Mmmph!” Your hand finds Nanami’s wrist to hold on to as his middle and ring fingers swipe on your clitoris. You scream his name when he pitches it softly, “Kent—Ohhh! Shhtop, ish too much!!”

“Yeah, too much?” He toys with it gently. “But I don’t hear you telling me to stop…”

The two of them go at a sporadic pace, skin slapping onto yours harshly in sync. They nearly take your breath away, thanking God they have a hold on you before the momentum steers you away. “Hahah, ohhh, ohmyGod, guys,” Toji bends down to add more of his weight, making you howl from the angle of his fat cock. “I cannn’t; I’m about to cuuhmm!”

“Really? You wanna cum, baby? Mmph! Fuck, this pussy…” He groans. “Gonna be a good girl and let Daddy finish here, yeah?” You nod, and Nanami pinches your clit again on Toji’s behalf. “Words, sweetie, words.”

“Yesss, Daddyyy!” 

“Gonna lay there and look cute while I knock ya up, right?” Again, the thought of having another baby should not have you excited. But again, there’s no way your head could be right during all of this. “Hmm? Want Daddy to give ya a baby?”

“Mmmm! Please, Daddyyy, fill me up…!” You were spouting out nonsense, but who cares? “Make me a mama again…Ohhh!”

And he does just that, pounding his shaft at you so harshly that it rocks your entire body, especially with how he brings your legs up to your chest to have your slit fully exposed for him. “Holy shit,” he bites his lip as he eyes your nude frame before him. “Look so fuckin’ sexy like this, Y/n.”

You couldn’t thank him for the compliment, your lips busy with Nanami’s as he takes you in for a steamy kiss. Both men drill their members into you in erratic unison, leaving you a squealing mess for the fair-headed one to deal with. His hands continue to tweak and grind on your clitoris, and your orgasm hits you before you can prepare yourself with a tear trickling down. 

And the flutter of your walls around their cocks eggs them onto waves of their own, groaning along with your cries as they piston you with the final ruts of their hips. Their pulsating lengths exert their loads inside your holes simultaneously, filling you up with their essence as their sweaty bodies heave and shudder. Nanami releases your clit from his grasp, the same with your lips. 

He hums pleasantly, his brown orbs hooded yet comforting. “Told you I love having you around me.”

“Bet y’re glad you stayed over,” Toji’s hand finds its way to your chin after putting your legs down. He scoffs when you bashfully nod, bringing you in for a kiss. “Did so well, mama…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mornings are typically a thing you share with your daughter in the comfort of your home. From the moment she came into your world to having her room and bed, Nobara would always be the first thing you’d see when waking up. Coming into your room to greet you, pulling you out for something, or get dressed and ready for the day with you – it was a routine the two of you shared, a sacred thing to enjoy between parent and daughter. So, to wake up in a room different from yours or see a different face has been a rarity ever since she became your top priority.

This morning, though, was one of those rarities.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered open from birds chirping and the sun peaking from the bedroom curtains. Drowsy eyes scan around to see that you are not in your room, already being alerted that something had happened last night of the change of scenery. And when you look to see who lies beside you, it all hits you like a slap.

It was like a scene from a romance movie, waking up to Nanami’s stunning face that was highlighted by the sunlight. Fair blonde hair that matched the softness of his russet eyes and a kind smile to match. And your breath hitches when he brings a hand to caress your cheek. 

“Mornin’, Y/n.”

And, of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d be greeting you. You sheepishly turn around to see the other man looking at you, viridian orbs ready to meet your pretty face. The smile on his face pulls the scar on his lips, the man effortlessly shooting an arrow into your heart. 

Everything that occurred the night before flashes, and the heat returns to dance on your cheeks and ears. Waking up in a different bed with two handsome men is one thing. To wake up to your crushes greeting you good morning, all three of you nude and comfortable after a night of mutual passion? Oh, you had to be dreaming still.

And yet, you couldn’t look at either of them in the eyes, averting your gaze modestly. “…Good morning,” you say quietly, almost squeaking your heart out when they both move to be closer. They kiss you, embrace you, and give you attention as if your decade-long crush has finally been lifted for them to spoil you. It’s damn near suffocating in a way. But, God, it felt so good.

Eventually, you got up and threw on some clothes to make food for everyone, Nanami joining you after putting his sleepwear back on. Toji had to leave for a moment to grab stuff from the store, his daughter waking up to the sound of him slamming the front door close. Then came Megumi, then Yuuji, who greeted Nanami with a hug, and now Nobara. The children sit around the table and mingle while you and the blonde fix some blueberry waffles, eggs, and bacon.

“Isn’t that my dad’s shirt?” Megumi was the first to notice it, pointing to the sweatshirt that went with your loose jeans — the same sweatshirt that Toji wore yesterday.

You flatten your lips before coming up with an answer. “Yes…I had nothing to wear for sleeping over, so he gave me his shirt. He didn’t mind; he brought an extra one.”

“You stayed over, Auntie?” Yuuji inquired after taking a sip of his apple juice. “Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch.”

Brown brows scrunch together before Nobara asks, “But wasn’t Uncle Toji the one who’d sleep on the couch?” 

You open your mouth, but words fail to exit out. Sharing a glance with Nanami, who coughs while putting waffles on plates, he covers for you. “He slept in my bed with me.”

“You slept with my father?” Tsumiki interrogates, trying to stifle a laugh. “He snores a lot, so I’m sorry if you couldn’t sleep, Uncle Nanami.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and closes with the arrival of her father, walking to kiss Tsumiki’s cheek and ruffle Megumi’s hair before entering the kitchen. He pulls something out of the plastic grocery bag and hands it to you. Putting the mixing bowl down, you take what seems to be a box, and your eyes widen to Toji’s amusement. “I’d take those before leaving if I were you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you put the box of birth control to the side with a flustered face. “Thank you…” And before you can process it, Toji sneaks a kiss on your cheek with you distracted. The older man cackles to himself when you slap his arm and push him off. Thankfully, none of the kids notice.

“Uncle Toji,” Nobara grabs the man’s attention. “Is it true you slept with Uncle Nanami?” 

The question takes him aback, but Toji’s quick on his feet to reply. “Yeah, I did. Your dad looks like a dead man when asleep, Yuyu.”

The pink-haired child nods along to the nickname. “Mhmm! Even when he comes home from work, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.” You snuck a glimpse at the gold-haired man, who rolled his eyes before bringing plates to put on the table. 

“Anyways,” he diverts the conversation to a different subject, placing a plate full of food in front of the boys. “Be ready for the zoo after breakfast, Yuuji. Didn’t you say you wanted to see the new tiger cubs?”

The Fushiguro siblings brighten with interest at the mention of the zoo, turning to their father, who instantly shuts them down with crossed arms. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already takin’ you two to the aquarium tomorrow; you want me to pay for more tickets for some animals?”

The joy in their eyes diminishes in seconds. “Cheapskate,” Megumi mumbled under his breath, earning a blueberry to be thrown at him by Toji. But the siblings smile when Nanami says that they can come along. 

“Momma,” you dreaded hearing your daughter’s voice during this conversation, hesitantly peering at the dark-haired girl after being given her breakfast. “Can I go, too?” 

Oh, goddamn it. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t keep going back and forth from the house and wherever. Besides, you have karate today.”

“I can skip!” Your mouth drops at her enthusiasm. “Besides, we can just sleep over again!”

This girl! “Nobara, you can’t just go making those decisions like this is your home. Did you ask Yuuji’s father if it was okay to stay another night?” You probably shouldn’t have said that, as the girl immediately asks the blonde father the exact question. And to your shock, he says they’re free to stay another night. You’re not helping! “You don’t even have an extra pair of clothes!”

And to make it worse, the onyx-haired man beside you says this, which makes you facepalm with a groan. “I can drive you two home and back. Saves ya some gas.”  You’re not helping either, and you’re just losing gas for my sake!

Mornings were supposed to be an easy thing to deal with. And yet here you are, dealing with a predicament. Shit like this is precisely why you don’t stay for too long during Nobara’s playdates and sleepovers; now you’re backed into a position where saying no seems futile. Nothing wrong with the children wanting to hang out more, but fuck does it throw the routine off. However, it wasn’t all bad. Because the whole point of this was for the little girl to have fun with her friends, who are you to be a Derby downer on her parade?

Plus…you’d get to hang out with Toji and Nanami for another day; that alone has your stomach running laps right now. Not only did you have your feelings reciprocated by the two men within a single night and then some, but you’re now invited to stay another day and enjoy the weekend in their company. You can sense their gazes on you, awaiting your answer – your approval to spoil and please you for one more night. And what makes your heart skip into flips is that there would probably be more days and nights to deepen this relationship between you three…

So, with a heavy sigh, you slide your hand down your face.

“…Can we at least go get some clothes first?”

@ 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

(21+ DNI) Nanami with his shy squirter. (based on my fav audio)

“Alright, get ready, I’m gonna go a little faster now,” Nanami spoke over your ear.

You breathed heavily, trying to look back at the mirror in front of you two.

You lay on Nanami’s bare chest while he fingered you.

He wanted you to watch yourself and see why squirting isn't bad.

“Let me get—hang on,” Nanami said, making you let out a noise in confusion.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said.

“W-what is it?” you asked, whining a bit since Nanami had stopped.

“Why don't you dip your fingers and get them wet? I want you to rub your clit for me while I finger you,” he said. You were unsure at first.

“W-why?” you asked him.

“It's so fucking hot, especially when we're in front of the mirror,” Nanami told you. He gazed at the mirror, watching you, and you swore you felt his dick move a bit underneath you.

He was wearing pants, so the bulge was pressing against your ass, which was torturous since you wanted his dick inside you.

Nanami slipped his finger out so you could dip yours in and then pull out before rubbing your clit.

Nanami found his way back to your pussy.

“Oh my god, look at you, angel,” Nanami spoke.

“So fucking beautiful,” he added, turning you on with the sudden compliment.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he said, making you look at the mirror.

“Look at how hard your nipples get when I finger you, princess,” he said with a smirk, as if he was proud.

You moaned and clenched around his finger as you felt something.

“Shit, do you feel that?” he asked. You nodded in reply, moaning and writhing in his hold.

“Kento…” you whined, trying to pull away and avoid that feeling.

“Just relax, don't think about it, angel,” Nanami reassured you.

“Just feel it,” he added. You threw your head back, closing your eyes as you moaned loudly.

“Don't hold yourself back,” Nanami whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

You couldn't hold it anymore.

“Fuck!” Nanami let out after his fingers hit your g-spot. He pulled away to see you squirt, it even reached the mirror.

You lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

“Look at how you squirted all over my hand,” Nanami said, showing you his hand, but you tried shoving it away.

“It's disgusting,” you said.

“No, it's fucking hot,” he told you.

“You're lying,” you said.

“I’m serious, I love it, princess,” Nanami let out.

“No—it's a mess, Kento. Look how it reached the mirror. It's embarrassing,” you told him, covering your face in embarrassment.

“No, it's not a mess. It's not embarrassing,” Nanami reassured you, using his other hand to remove your hand from your face.

“I don't hate it, baby,” he told you after you looked at him.

“Really?” you asked.

“I am, and I think you need to do more.”

————————————————————————