❤︎ Megumi Fushiguro Boyfriend Aesthetic ~

ᯓ★ shy girl

shy girl k. bakugo

in which a continuation of this drabble

notes fluff , fem reader

katsuki sighed, his hair clipped back and a green mask on his face, his girlfriend sitting on the bed next to him in matching attire. her eyes were on the movie on the screen, oblivious to his stare.

"hey, pretty?" he finally speaks up, his hand grazing her arm.

"yeah?" she replies, turning to look at him.

"you're an idiot," he gruffly mumbles, pressing his lips to hers, his actions contradicting his words.

"and you're kissing an idiot," she playfully retorts.

"i have bad taste," he rolls his eyes.

"you have great taste," she corrects with a giggle.

"i have great taste," he confirms, pressing his lips to her's again.

Did you find it? The family you’ve been searching for?

Y’all im such a sucker for found family okay 🥹🥹🥹

"Kinich!", you had immediately called out to him upon reaching his favourite resting area.

You knew which tree he favoured most, but instead his usual reciprocated call for you from above, or him jumping next to you, you weren't exactly expecting him to suddenly appear next to you upside down.

"Need something?"

Although it didn't show on his face, you can easily see the amused glint in his eyes at seeing your surprise expression. It seemed your Kinich was feeling a little playful today, and so were you actually. You were also actually very giddy today, eager to see him after being busy for most part of the day.

Your body moved before your own brain could properly register it, and maybe the lack of Ajaw's commentary was also the reason you weren't snapped out of your affectionate daze.

Gently cupping his cheek, you easily leaned forward. Pressing your lips softly against his. The kiss felt different, but in a good way. You like it a lot. Or maybe it's just because it's with Kinich. You love all types of kisses with him. All his affection. You just really love Kinich...

Pulling away, his cheeks now decorated in a pretty blush, it doesn't need a genius to know he was taken aback by your gesture. He didn't dislike it though, not at all. And if the way his eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips repeatedly says anything, it's safe to assume he wanted another.

"You're turning a little red there love, why not come down?", you teased lightly.

"One more"

"Huh?"

"One more kiss"

You couldn't help but laugh a bit, especially with how determined he looked to get another kiss from you. But you indulged him anyway, after all you like kissing him to begin with.

"There, now get down from there before you get lightheaded"

"It's just a little lightheadedness, I've been through worst", this time it's him who pulled you closer.

"Kinich?"

"Again..."

Seems like he really liked this new type of kiss...

hi! may i request a scenario where bakugo is helping his s/o with homework, and he keeps yelling at her for not focusing, and she gets really self conscious/upset bc she has ADHD and can’t help getting distracted? maybe he feels bad after and the next day he brings her to his room to help her again and does it much more softly, and cooks up her favorite meal as an apology for yelling at her before? thank you!! (*´꒳`*)

a/n: hi love! of course!! i apologize if i get some things wrong, please feel free to correct me, i used google for a little bit of help with getting things accurate!

summary: during a study session with bakugou, he gets onto you for losing focus, but he eventually finds out that you have ADHD and he comes up to you to apologize.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, a smidge of angst

wordcount: 1.4k

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

“Can you please focus? You’re not going to learn anything if you keep spacing out.” Bakugou groaned, continuing to scribble down notes into his notebook neatly. 

You were trying to focus. Keyword, trying. Little things kept earning your focus, like the sound the clock was making, the small ticking noise happening every second. 

You wiggled your pencil between your fingers, anxiously re-reading over the question. You’d read it a thousand times it seemed. It was getting any easier to understand.

You were bored and Bakugou yelling at you wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, sorry.” You said quietly, trying to ignore the urge to yell at him back. You couldn’t help that you were losing focus. Maybe if this history worksheet was a bit less wordy it’d be okay.

But before you could re-read the question for the thousandth and second time, you took interest in Bakugou’s collection of All Might figures, which you had been sworn to secrecy about.

Bakugou’s eye twitched as he noticed your head moved and your eyes moved away from the paper. He let out a low growl and slammed his hands onto the table.

“Pay attention! It’s not that hard!” Bakugou was losing his patience with you. Everything was fine until it came to your study sessions. He’d never been this angry with you before. But you were just wasting his time if you weren’t going to pay attention.

Your head snapped back to Bakugou, a feeling of guilt washing over you.

“What did you get for number five.” Bakugou asked monotonously.

“Uh…” You looked down at your paper. On the thousandth and third time, it seemed to click.

“Oh well, it’s obvious the guy was a controlling leader so his people killed him.” You answered, a small feeling of relief washing over you. Bakugou sighed and accepted your short response.

“Was that so hard?” Bakugou mumbled. You looked down at your lap and began moving your leg. Sitting criss-cross, your right leg was now moving up and down.

You went back to wiggling your pencil and reading the next question.

You got lost in your train of thought to the point you didn’t hear Bakugou yelling at you again.

“Focus!” Bakugou slammed his hands down on the table again. But this was enough to make you snap out of it and bring tears to your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized. Bakugou softened slightly when he noticed a tear roll down your cheek.

“I’m sorry I can’t fucking help I can’t focus.” You groaned, grabbing your things and standing up.

“Hey wait-”

“No. Go spend your time with someone useful who can pay attention.” You slammed his door on your way out.

You made it back to your dorm and sat on your bed. You’d struggled with ADHD for as long as you could remember. Focusing in school was hard, paying attention was hard. You’d even gotten in trouble for trying to control your fidgeting.

You’d always end up moving a leg, or a pencil in your fingers. But hearing all that stuff from Bakugou, the guy you liked, your boyfriend.

It hurt on a whole other level.

- - -

“How’d your study session with (y/n) go?” Kaminari asked, devouring another bite of his food.

“She kept losing focus. It was annoying.” Bakugou left out the fact that he’d made you upset. He didn’t think it was really anyone’s business what happened between you and him behind closed doors.

Especially not Kaminari.

“Oh dude, that’s a little harsh don’t ya think?” Kirishima chimed in. Bakugou raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes.

“What was I supposed to do?!” Bakugou groaned.

“Did you yell at her for not paying attention?” Mina asked, worry filling on the rest of the Bakusquad’s faces.

“Yeah? I’m not gonna waste my time for her to just sit and stare at walls and shit.” Bakugou was getting fed up with all these questions.

“Bro.” Sero looked upset.

“That’s a little messed up.” Kaminari added. Bakugou was now utterly confused.

“What am I missing!?” Bakugou raised his voice. He felt tense. Something wasn’t right.

“She has ADHD dude.” Kaminari spoke.

Bakugou’s face drained of color.

He’d royally screwed up.

“Don’t tell me you-”

“I didn’t know.” Bakugou mumbled.

“You owe her an apology.” Mina stated, going into mom mode. Bakugou nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, his appetite had disappeared.

“It’ll be alright, you didn’t know, but you still talk to her about it, and apologize.”

“Yeah, you messed up big time bro.”

“Sero!”

“Sorry.”

- - -

Bakugou knocked on the door to your dorm. When it pulled back and he saw you, he engulfed you in a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized. You were confused, but eventually, you connected the dots and assumed he was apologizing for before, during your study session.

“It’s fine-”

“It’s not. Even though I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you like that. I hate seeing you cry.” Bakugou said softly. This side of him was rare. You’d only ever seen him like this once before.

“I thought you knew, I figured Kaminari would’ve told you as soon as he figured it out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bakugou asked. You didn’t have an answer to that. It never crossed your mind, especially since Kaminari had found out pretty early on, it made sense that Kami would have told Bakugou.

“I assumed Kaminari would’ve told you, he found out pretty early on, like the second week of school. You wouldn’t even look at me then.” You laughed.

Bakugou remembered. He wouldn’t even talk to you, let alone be caught looking at you. Until the two of you got paired up for a project and Bakugou fell head over heels for you.

“Let me make it up to you. We can study again tomorrow, and-”

“Okay.” You agreed. You didn’t let him finish, instead, you pulled him in for a kiss.

- - -

When you got to your study session with Bakugou, he had prepared your favorite food. You smiled and didn’t hesitate in taking a bite of the yummy food.

“Did you make this?” You questioned, your eyes filled with joy.

“Yeah. I had stupid IcyHot help me with the recipe. It’s his sister’s.” Bakugou grumbled. You giggled and raised a piece for Bakugou to try.

“Are you feeding me?” Bakugou asked. You nodded. He opened his mouth a tried a bite.

It was good. Bakugou was proud of himself. He assumed you must be really happy about it too.

“Alright let’s get this done!” You said happily.

You and Bakugou began your session. Bakugou paid close attention to you, making sure you were staying on track. 

You began to lose focus again. You could feel his eyes on you.

“We can take a break if you need too.” Bakugou said calmly. You looked up, a small smile on your lips.

“O-Okay.” You blushed. He was being nicer. Bakugou and you stood up, taking a quick break to stretch and get a sip of water. You sat back down, this time beside Bakugou instead of in front of him.

“Changing up on me now?” He chuckled. You smiled and looked at his worksheet before your own.

“Okay let’s read this passage. You start and I’ll finish.” Bakugou awaited your response. You gave him a nod and began reading the long passage for your literature class.

About halfway through you could feel yourself beginning to fidget. Bakugou’s thumb rubbed your leg, tracing small shaped into the fabric of your pants. While you still fidgeted, you felt at ease, calm.

You stopped after the sixth paragraph, allowing Bakugou to take over. Listening to Bakugou read was nice. His voice sounded good, and it was funny when he pronounced big words wrong. 

“It’s pronounced-”

“Are you listening to me reading or how I’m saying words?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“Both…” You blushed. Bakugou leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“We’re almost done and then we can watch a movie.” Bakugou whispered in your ear.

- - -

The study session was over before you knew it. And as Bakugou had said, the two of you watched a movie in his room, cuddled up beside each other on his bed.

You snuggled under his All Might blanket, the one you had gotten him for Christmas that he loved but would never admit.

“I love you.” You said softly. Bakugou smiled, unbeknownst to you.

“I love you too, you nerd.”

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

—

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

weird girl !!

♡ : i. midoriya, k. bakugo, s. todoroki, e. kirishima, d. kaminari

☆ : gn!reader, fem-implied!reader in denki’s, fluff, crack, kinda suggestive jokes

✄ : inspired by these rafe fics

- in which you’re the mha boys weird gf !

the night was young, laughter ringing through the room like vibrations of joy, and yet katsuki bakugo just would not kiss you.

of course, he had not bothered to partake in the game of spin the bottle. sitting lazily on the couch nearest the circle of giggling teens, he had barely lifted his eyes from the rim of his cup before grumbling a rough “no.” despite the response being entirely in character for the blond, the immediate denial — almost as if he had been long prepared to deny the opportunity to kiss you — was mildly humiliating. it was a difficult task to conceal the embarrassment coating your face in warmth, but you hoped that those around you were too inebriated to notice. they were, luckily… except for him. all too sober, he almost felt bad, but he believed his reasoning was enough to justify his firm dismissal.

denki nudged him by the shoulder, giving him a look that was promptly ignored. “dude,” he said quietly, almost gritted.

a nasty glare was shot in his direction, one that spoke multitudes. oddly enough, it seemed to soften into something more complex when it dropped to his lap, but his words were brash all the same. “kaminari, shut your trap. now.”

denki ran a hand down his face, groaning. it seemed that everyone in the room had a shared sort of exasperation; they somehow saw right through him in a way you could not. for once, you seemed to be the only one that did not understand him.

your attempts to dismiss it and move on, to put the spotlight elsewhere for but a moment, were flushed away when mina interjected with a “why not?”

red eyes narrowed into slits, his jaw ticking. “because.”

“bakugo!”

“no.”

“c’mon, man!”

he was visibly growing flustered, brows knitting together in barely concealed frustration. fists clenched, the red plastic of his solo cup crumpled enough to make a sound. “I said no. fuck off.”

a series of protests and drunken whines echoed through the muggy room. “just do i-“

“not like this!”

a pause. his face went red. the room fell silent in what was barely a beat, eyes boring saucer shaped holes into the both of you. your lips parted almost as if to speak, but nothing came out save for a single dry croak. everyone looked at you except for katsuki. ever the confrontational, suddenly shying away from a bit of eye contact.

turns out that yes, he had refused to kiss you, but not out of disgust or even a lack of romantic attraction to you. he had refused to kiss you in the dingy confines of this dimly lit room, countless eyes trained on you, putting on a show that would be forgotten by morning. he had planned to do it some other time — properly — because he knew that was what you deserved. not the taste of cheap liquor and erupting cheers, but the gentle embrace of a lover and the bliss of something new.

a/n: why am I writing for mha and katsuki of all people what is wrong with me

Casually Touching You

Whenever you were around Bakugou’s general vicinity, he couldn’t help but automatically put his hands on you. 

His hands found your waist to guide you around the room. 

His hands found your hair to flick something away from it. 

His hands covered your ears when you almost overheard Kirishima and the boys outing Bakugou’s feelings for you. 

The boy moved in orbit around you. You were his personal supply of stomach butterflies and the boy built an addiction to it. 

Thus, the Bakusquad christened you with a very special nickname: ‘Bakumagnet’. 

(Wanted to try writing shorter drabbles for a change because I have a lot of long chapters in the works. Also note to self this post breaks in the tags)

katsuki who traps you into a tight bear hug whenever he comes back from a long mission, shoves his head into your shoulder and takes a big, looong, hard whiff.

"wah—katsuki !! don't, i—don't smell good !" you whine, like that would stop him. you were unfortunately already used to his antics. you'd come to pick him up early at the airport and hadn't bothered putting on any perfume or anything.

and of course, it doesn't stop him. he growls, arms tightening around you threatening to melt into your ribs. he even nudges his nose even harder, moving into your pulse point and his hair tickling your ear.

"shush, stop squirming—don't move. i wanna smell you."

you groan at his lack of shame. "you're way too blunt about this."

"don't know why i'd have anything to be embarrassed about. wanna smell mine. missed you." he says, mumbling the last time just a little bit quieter. but since he's like, pressed to you you had no problem hearing his words and sigh. "y'smell good.." he adds.

you run your fingers through his hair, fondly rolling your eyes at his weak reassurance. "yeah, thanks.." and he has the nerve to grunt in agreement for succeeding in helping you.

weird girl !!

♡ : i. midoriya, k. bakugo, s. todoroki, e. kirishima, d. kaminari

☆ : gn!reader, fem-implied!reader in denki’s, fluff, crack, kinda suggestive jokes

✄ : inspired by these rafe fics

- in which you’re the mha boys weird gf !