Katsuki X Reader - Blog Posts

JUST FOR YOU (6.2K)

— viking!bakugou x f!reader

synopsis: your childhood best friend also known as your tailor comes to visit! bakugou doesn’t trust him at all.

warnings: 18+ content, minors don't interact, ageless blogs don't interact, female reader, referred to: (baby, my lady), arranged marriage, lovey dovey, 69, unprotected sex, fingering (f), p to v, chief kink lol, whole load of kissing, big three: (angst, fluff, smut), jealousy, mentions of violence, viking themes are light and inspired, modern language.

notes: PART FOUR to FOR YOU MY VIKING BKG SERIES!! can be read as a standalone. if there’s typos this was a one man job! thank u kanye for that one line, i had to steal it. lets go girls.

forget everything you said before. fiancé, almost wed life, was fun. dreamlike. a fantasy come to life. your fiancé, head chief of your new village bakugou katsuki, or to you, ‘ki, drags you into the warm cocoon of his arms all while being half asleep.

“dunno what you’re dreamin’ about to somehow find your way out of my arms,” the chief grunts, deep and musky. you inhale the junction between his neck and shoulder, muffling a giggle in his skin. his newly scarred arm wraps around your waist and you can feel every bump and groove of his body against you. him sleeping naked and you in one of his old cotton tunics does that.

“i’m dreaming about you, chief.”

bakugou feels you smiling, the tilt of your voice at his title. he pinches your side, making you yelp though there’s nowhere to go in his arms.

“here we go with the chief shit. you want my dick this early?”

his words are so harsh, rough but make your insides tingle all the same. you rock your body against his and there’s no hiding how he’s feeling.

“it feels like you want me this early actually.”

when you start to wriggle in his arms, bakugou loosens his grip, letting you shift to sit on his lower stomach. you love his gaze on you. ruby eyes study your bare shoulder from where his tunic dropped, the slope of your neck, your bare hips from where the fabric sits. you don’t need him to say he adores you because you can feel it.

“aren’t i lucky to marry you.”

it’s not a question, a statement. he bites down on his bottom lip, dragging it slowly between his teeth then letting it go. you run your hands over his bare chest at the same time large rough palms sit on your thighs. you sigh at the sight of the bandage on his left forearm.

“does it still hurt?”

bakugou glances down at his arm like he forgot he was even injured.

“nothin’ hurts when you’re near me.”

you roll your eyes and he squeezes your hips in response, rocking you slightly onto his cock. he presses between your ass cheeks, your next breath shaky.

“c-can you just be honest with me? we should get it checked out again today so it doesn’t get infected.”

his cock twitches, the left corner of his mouth rising.

“i’ve never lied to you—,”

“you did last week when you said there were no cinnamon buns left in the bakery.”

“that wasn’t a lie if i brought them all back home. is it, princess?”

“but—,”

“nuh-uh. none in the bakery wasn’t a lie ‘cause there wasn’t.” two hands drag you by the hips back and forth over his cock. just the feeling of him between your legs makes you hum though when his head brushes your clit, your whole body buzzes.

“tell me i’m not a liar, princess.”

his voice is smooth, butter melting over pancakes. you feel him thickening. you’re chasing the pleasure trying to flick your hips but he’s in control. it feels like he’s in control of your lips too when you say, “you’re not a liar.”

your eyes fall shut and you can’t help but lean forward to arch your back, hands pressing into the pillow on either side of his head.

“f-fuck,” you moan, your centre warm with a desire to be filled. if he’d just let you lift your hips, you could slide him right inside, “ki, i want you.”

“i know you do, baby,” his hand caresses your cheek, lifting your head to slot your mouth against his. his tongue slides into your mouth and it’s so overwhelming. your nose nudges against his and you practically inhale each other, licking as much as you can of him.

he does it without too much movement, that if you didn’t want it so bad you wouldn’t have noticed. your hips lift an inch before you sink down onto your fiancé.

you sigh into his mouth, cradling his head with your forearms. “oh i needed this.”

“you had this yesterday,” his chuckle surrounds you, sexy and loving.

you flick your hips up and down, chasing whatever feels good. in response, it makes him feel good too with the inescapable speed his hips match yours with.

“so?”

your place your lips on his neck, licking and sucking down on a spot. his neck is the most sensitive, he didn’t need to tell you for you to find out. it’s not too soon before his pace quickens, the wooden bed frame slamming against the wall. you guys have never cared for the noise since you’re on the top floor.

“you’re fuckin’ bliss, princess,” he grumbles, pulling you from his neck back onto his mouth.

his favourite, coming while his tongue is down your throat.

your breath is shaky, your hips jolting as electricity shoots through your limbs. it’s heavenly, the sides of him pressing against your walls, the feeling of your lover coming inside you too.

bakugou’s trembling through his orgasm, still trying to kiss you through it before giving into his release.

“ugh, fuck.”

he’s too sensitive, you can tell when he starts to get twitchy so you slowly roll off him.

“we needa get you off those herbs, lemme put a baby in ya,” bakugou mumbles, wiping the thin layer of sweat off his forehead. you snuggle into his side, ignoring the wetness between your legs for the time being.

“okay, man who’s life isn’t going to be frozen for nine months and life will change forever after. give me a few years,” you laugh breathlessly, sitting up to pull off your tunic from the heat.

eyes float over your chest and you’re addicting. bakugou presses kisses on the tops of your breasts.

“i know, i know,” he whispers and you brush the blonde strands drooping onto his forehead back. his ruby eyes get darker in such intimate times, meeting yours in a mutual ground. “just lookin’ forward to our life together.”

you hum but a smile breaks out nevertheless. “so cute. you like me that much!”

now you’re greeted with rolled eyes but not for too long until his lips circle your nipple. your back arches instantly, your breath hitching.

“like? yeah, i like you so much,” he deadpans, not giving you a chance to reply before finding your nipple again and sucking hard.

moans ripple out your mouth, “you’re gonna make me—,”

“chief? my lady?” three knocks shake the room and bakugou’s “hah?” leaves him without control.

your house staff rarely ever get onto your and bakugou’s floor, so this must be an emergency? you sit up abruptly and bakugou lifelessly falls back on the bed beside you in a huff.

“y-yes?” your body hears for a whole other reason. did they hear everything? oh god.

“just to remind you both, my lady’s guest will be arriving in a few moments if their travels have gone to plan.”

“oh my god, i forgot all about that! yes, we will be out in a sec!” you call.

bakugou’s still groaning, “will we be?”

you shove his side but he barely moves, taking hold of your hand. “we’re still gonna visit the doctor for your arm.”

“yes, my lady.”

what you have forgotten to tell your fiancé was how your old villages dress tailor was absolutely in love with you. bakugou was expecting an old man to walk through those doors. instead he finds that imaginary man’s son, around the same age as you both, smiling like he’s been blessed with fresh meat from a raid.

your presence does make one feel like that though. especially with how you look, freshly showered, a simple white flowy dress on, smelling like this new lavender honey soap he stole from a few towns over. you practically jump in this man’s arms and there’s not a second where this man isn’t touching you.

arms around your waist, then holding your forearms, then your hands.

“benji! i didn’t think i’d be seeing you today! where’s your father?” until you take a step back in shock, “why are you taller and so… muscular?”

you’re that close with him? bakugou’s met a few of your friends and this 6 foot, well built, floppy haired guy was not included. he doesn’t even realise he’s grinding on his molars with his eyes fixated on this man, benji’s, fucking hands.

when you think back to old benji, or actually younger benji, you remember a scrawny haired kid. skinny and not yet built for his body. shy smiles when you’d see his father for a fitting or when he’d come to your home to deliver a dress. that nervous cute boy is definitely not who is before you. his clothes fit him tightly in a purposeful way, definition in his biceps and even his neck is thicker. he’s not as big as your fiance but he’s definitely on the way to it. you can’t stop looking him up and down.

“father caught a cold, nothing too serious!” he exclaims once your eyes find his again. the old benji’s blush paints his cheeks at your attention. bakugou’s sure if he left the room this loser would try and put moves on you. brown eyes gazing all over your face like he’s trying to find what’s changed since you left, “so i’m sorry to say you’re stuck with me for this fitting.”

you laugh, your cute airy one that makes bakugou feel warm, “stuck! definitely not stuck with the best tailor villages have seen for years.”

benji’s fucking eyes twinkle and bakugou thinks that’s enough, stepping forward to remind everyone he’s fucking here too.

you lean back into your fiancé, benji’s hands falling from yours, “benji, this is katsuki, my fiancé! he looks mean but trust me he’s a teddy bear.”

you seem to forget that he’s only like that with you because bakugou is only staring at this man with pure warning, playing out in his head taking this guy in a fight. he’d win with no weapons. his jaw is gritted, chains around his neck and just a normal shirt. bakugou looks a little terrifying not even in his chief clothing.

benji nods at bakugou with a little bow. he half laughs, “i don’t think i get first name privileges, right?”

“yes!” “no.”

you and bakugou say at the same time. you glance up at him with a frown and bakugou avoids your gaze still trying to work out this benji, who’s going to be touching all over your body for the sake of measurements.

“nice to meet you, chief. we’ve all missed yn back home.”

bakugou wants to snap, she’s at home here and doing perfectly fuckin’ fine without you. but benji hasn’t said anything rude or wrong. anyone would miss you. he misses you when he wakes up before you.

so he sticks to silence, just a nod in response.

he respects how this guy holds eye contact with him and keeps this polite demeanour, or whatever the fuck he’s doing. small smile and bright eyes before locking eyes with you and both get bigger. bakugou hates this guy.

“okay well. i was planning on taking you around for a tour of the village for a catch up and then we can get back here to start measuring? i’m sure i’m different now with all the food i’ve been eating here, i can take you to the bakery!” you turn to bakugou, finger hooking with his, “do you wanna come too?”

he wants to, to monitor this guy. make sure he’s not acting stupid around you and looking at you like he looks at you and— bakugou huffs internally. he trusts you.

“nah, you guys go. i’ve got shit to go through here. bring me back an blueberry tart, yeah?”

he ducks down for your lips to meet his cheek but he’s not taking any chances, gripping your chin to press his lips to yours. you’re a fool for your fiancé, forgetting anyone else is in the room on an average day when he touches you. your body presses against his, hands gripping his shirt as your head tilts to fit his. you taste like minty toothpaste and you find some apple on his tongue from one he devoured while walking down the stairs.

then it’s an embarrassing switch of you pulling away abruptly because you remember your audience. you look like a deer in headlights, about to apologise when benji, who’s shuffling on his feet, says, “married life, ey?”

“not yet!”

“i see.”

bakugou sees the twinkle in this stupid man’s eye again. just because there’s no wedding ring around your finger, he thinks he can just slither in. fuck no.

“c’mon, let’s go before they run out of blueberry tarts,” he grins.

bakugou bites his tongue. if it were anyone else all hell would have broke loose, the blade he keeps at his waist would be at this man’s neck. he could even take him out with a single punch at his temple. though, he doesn’t because you press a lasting kiss to bakugou’s cheek, whispering, “see you later, gorgeous.”

you don’t get to see your friends often, you moved villages for him. most of all he trusts you with his life and you can take care of yourself if anything happens.

“see you baby.”

he watches you and this new guy walk out his home in bubbling conversation and laughter.

bakugou trusts you!! he trusts you so much. he trusts you. he just doesn’t trust that guy. not at all and not even a little. though he doesn’t think he’d wanna face you if he gets caught following behind you both and you need to have a life outside of him. just not with benji.

so when the door slams shut, just knowing you’re nearby makes bakugou feel a whole lot better.

“home!”

“i didn’t think the blueberry tart would be that nice.”

that fucking guy.

“in here!” bakugou shouts and soon enough he hears your footsteps getting louder.

he’s sat at his grand round table alone, massive brown map before him with piles of books messily scattered. he’s got a pot of ink and his pen, making chicken scrawl notes for his next raid.

you slip through the door, the scent of sugared ginger filling his room made for conversations about bloodshed. there’s flowers in your hair, probably from the village kids and you’re practically dancing into the room. green streaks from grass are across the bottom of your skirt and you’re holding what looks like a pie wrapped in red gingham cloth.

“hello my lover,” you smile and bakugou hums with warmth.

you slide the pie on the table before wrapping your arms around his neck from the back. you press your cheek against his and bakugou holds your forearm.

“got you a blueberry pie, jennie said this is her new recipe and wanted her chief to taste it.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

“thanks princess,” bakugou scrunches his nose, “how was your… catch up? how long you’ve known him for?”

he’s trying, he’s trying to sound normal. level headed. completely under control.

you laugh though and he knows he’s failed, “good! known his family all my life. his father’s made all my family’s clothes.”

bakugou huffs, “don’t fuckin’ like him.”

jealousy. your first time seeing it on him so you’re eating it up. “why?”

“he’s in love with you. all touchy, makin’ jokes. probably knows a bunch of shit about you i don’t,” bakugou runs a finger along the rough edge of his map. he’s not insecure, there’s nothing for him to be insecure about. the strongest, most feared man anybody has come across. until it comes to you.

“i don’t think he’s in love with me and he knows the old me. you’re gonna know me now and every version of me to come. right?”

bakugou sighs, pulling you into his arms. you’re glowing compared to him, sinking and gloomy. shiny eyes, glossy lips and your fingers scratching at his beard.

“yeah,” is all he says staring down at you. he licks his lips, “thanks for my pie.”

“no problem, gorgeous. i’m gonna go now, get measured.”

“he’s gonna see you naked?”

“well in my underwear.” you adjust to wiggle out of his grip.

bakugou groans loudly, “you couldn’t have had a female tailor? you know, like the average woman?”

“hey, if the man’s good at his job,” you shrug.

“and in love with you. another man who’s in love with you will be seeing you naked. fuck,” bakugou throws his head back on his chair, closing his eyes. he can literally feel his blood boil in his veins.

“not naked! again, in my underwear and he won't even be touching me, just with the tape!” you laugh, “and he’s not in love with me but if it bothers you so much you can sit with us?”

bakugou groans again, “nah, i can’t. i sound fuckin’ crazy. i don’t own you.”

“i am yours though,” you grin, backing up to leave. you’re holding onto the door ready to slip out.

“you are and i’m yours too,” he looks over at you, leaning back in his chair with a defeated raise of his brow. his arms are tense resting on his arm rests, showing in his beige fabric vest.

“that you are, gorgeous.”

bakugou can’t help it. he couldn’t concentrate on his work with the gnawing imagery of fucking benji touching you while you giggle away about something he should be hearing. and also he’s the chief, this is his village, he can do what he wants. so whilst wiping blueberry tart crumbs off his face, bakugou stomps towards the sound of melodic laughs and stupid quiet mumbles.

it’s a sight that if he wasn’t already prepared, would make bakugou switch into an immediate red rage. he’s not an animal but sometimes he’s trained to act like one however he knows this isn’t the time. especially when your eyes light up at his presence.

you’re in your simple baby blue laced trimmed underwear with this fucking man kneeling down at your feet, measuring your… ankles? what the fuck. benji has the measuring tape in his hand, paired with a pencil tucked behind his ear. bakugou notices a flash of alarm pass through benji’s eyes before trying to relax. bakugou can tell the guy can’t completely settle now he’s here. guess the chief thing has got some power.

“hey baby, have you finished the last plan?” you ask sweetly, standing up straighter by placing your hands on your hips.

you’re so beautiful. everyone knows it and bakugou knows you’d let him gaze over your body. your soft breasts and thighs. your smooth skin, highlighted against the blue and you’re standing so confidently, like you should. clearly comfortable with them both in the room.

bakugou grunts in reply, “yeah, think we’re gonna hold the chief captive. shove his staff in a room, don’t think he’s got too many. then knife to the throat, if all goes well.”

“if all goes well?”

bakugou glares down at benji, the look of alarm back through his eyes for a whole other reason. it’s like the words spilled out of him without realising though he won’t take back his surprise. he locks eyes with bakugou before jotting down some numbers in his notebook.

has he forgotten the respect which comes to talking to a chief in their village? does bakugou look like a fool? you don’t pay any mind though, breaking off a corner of a croissant and popping it in your mouth.

“it’s a fuckin’ raid. i’m not sure what you’re sayin’ here.” bakugou’s coaxing, curious for the reply.

“i know, chief. just is the violence necessary?”

bakugou laughs, loud yet lacking humour. what’s even more amusing is how you laugh too yet humour coats yours. benji looks between you both in confusion before wrapping his measuring tape around your thigh.

the sight has bakugou’s blood run hot. like his hands weren’t touching you there earlier. fuck, has he always been so possessive?

“how do you think your village gets shit? by sitting on their fuckin’ hands and waitin’?”

“we make deals.” then in a much lower tone, “i guess selling our ladies isn’t much better.”

there’s a pause in the room from you and your fiancé. frozen for a second before staring at each other. you in a ‘did he really just say that?’ and him in a ‘what the actual fuck?’

“what the fuck—,”

but bakugou’s voice means nothing to how you abruptly step back out of benji’s grasp. you’d think the switch in tension would urge you to cover up but you stand there as tall as ever with a seething glare.

“i wasn’t sold by anybody, benjamin. you didn’t think you were coming here to save me were you? is that what all the talk about how everyone misses me back home and you got a new horse was about?”

bakugou can’t help the “fuckin’ prick” that leaves his throat.

“your father gave you to a chief for a deal we won’t get raided,” benji replies, “if you weren’t a trade, what were you?”

you’re in stunned silence from all the things you can say. but benji takes that as a chance to continue, “you had dreams, yn! when we were little we wanted to travel, you wanted to study and you never wanted to marry! i know you wouldn’t want to marry a savage like that!”

benji’s pointer finger whips out to point at bakugou who raises an angry eyebrow. bakugou knows when to step in when you’re involved though he can’t help make the easy manoeuvre of yanking benji’s arm behind his back in a painful and awkward position.

benji yelps as he’s held against bakugou’s chest. “knew there was somethin’ fuckin’ weird with you.”

a few months ago, bakugou would have completely believed what benji said. felt shit about himself, believe you were forced to be by his side. but you’ve both been through that and it’s in the past. the only person who needs to know the truth is his him and you though apparently there’s a confused saviour in his hands.

you, on the other hand, squint at your childhood friend like he’s stupid. you let the man wiggle in bakugou’s grasp who holds him effortlessly despite his bruised arm.

“yn, please. we can go back together, say he was hurting you. i know he’s probably done worse,” benji spits out.

still in your underwear, you cross your arms and cock out a hip to stand comfortably.

“benji, i’m sorry but you’re sadly mistaken. did you not listen to anything i said during our walk or were you just fixated on your little plan to save me from my big bad husband?” you do a cocky pout at him, “i didn’t want to marry anybody at thirteen! though honestly, if i met katsuki then i probably would have.”

bakugou chuckles genuinely, chest bouncing as he grips benji even tighter. together, you ignore the annoying man’s yelps.

“to make this clear if i want to leave i can and i definitely wouldn’t need your help. katsuki is a dream and i am absolutely and devotedly in love with him, get that through your skull.” you sigh, another man who underestimates you. “you always loved making up stories that weren’t true.”

“i love you too,” bakugou chips in.

benji blinks rapidly, giving up on fighting out of bakugou’s grip. “i-i read about this in a book! they call it stockholm syndrome, when—,”

you hold out a hand, “i know what stockholm syndrome is and this isn’t the same circumstance. my life is beautiful here, if you listened at all to me on our walk you’d know. i love the people, my home, my husband. helping out, going on raids, a future family and yes benji, going to study too.”

weirdly, benji roars. it’s so out of character it makes you jump and bakugou snaps into action by shoving benji’s front into a wall so he can’t move.

“i was really looking forward to my new dresses.”

“i’ll find you a better tailor. i know one a good one few villages across.”

benji fights bakugou’s grip but he’s practically stuck between two walls now.

“yn, please. i can love you better than him.”

bakugou lifts him from the wall before pushing him against it again. “you can’t.”

you’re devastated, your childhood long friendship crumbling before you. benji’s wild eyes are trying to find yours, relate to something only you both know but you’re finding it hard to locate. he doesn’t know you anymore. you yank a tunic off the table to cover yourself up.

“go home, benji. don’t come back here and don’t visit me when i see my family.”

you sound as dejected as benji looks, eyes drooping and shoulders dropping. he looks nothing like how he did when you saw him last or even this morning. bakugou mumbles something in his ear before letting him go and suddenly, benji is shorter. smaller. creases in his clothes and his hair a sweaty mess.

“fine but if you ever need me, you know where i am.”

“i won’t.”

“leave now before i kill you.” bakugou states bored and everyone in the room is sure he’ll follow through.

two of bakugou’s men appear in the doorway, ready to escort benji out though bakugou thinks for a moment before following behind them.

bakugou finds you less than ten minutes later, sitting on the floor with your legs bent. you’re clearly in deep thought, lifting your head to your lover, “did you break his legs?”

bakugou nods, scrambling to sit on the floor beside you too. he’s uncharacteristically crossed legged to match how you’re feeling and your heart sings.

“nothing permanent just enough to not walk for a month.”

you smile but your voice is a sigh, “guess everyone is going to be talking about that then. yn’s brutal chief fiancé just broke poor benji’s legs.”

bakugou takes your hand in both of his, lifting to kiss your wrist. “i like the sound of that.”

bakugou’s smile makes you smile. you shake your head, “you know what i mean. i hate how everyone thinks i can’t handle you and i don’t care usually but how does everyone back home see me as so weak? especially, benji! i literally was in raids that got them food and fabric on his back!”

bakugou’s heart leaps in his chest. before he was the same, underestimating you. not believing you could handle his life, the violence and pain. but he knows better now. you’re shaking, chest heaving and bakugou is yet to see you cry. he’s never around people crying not because of him. he opens up his arms and you harshly throw your hand up. “no, i’m not about to cry.”

your voice cracks on the last syllable so bakugou shoves you in his arms anyway. your head rests on his shoulders as his arms circle you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he mumbles.

“i know. i love it here and i love you. of course, it’s okay,” your voice is a watery mess and bakugou laughs. “just wanted new dresses.”

“i’ll get you some. tell me more about him.”

“benji? i could tell you hated him when i introduced him.” you wipe your nose on bakugou’s tunic. he doesn’t care.

“wanted to kill him, still do. okay, tell me about you when you were thirteen.”

you shuffle so you’re sat comfortably in his lap, legs over his thighs, your hand running up his arm.

“you first.”

bakugou huffs but it’s always give and take with you. “i was stupid and smart at the same time. smarter than everyone else but not as smart as i thought i was. got into trouble sneaking into other villages but mostly to just observe how other people lived. got into fights loads, couldn’t handle my own temper. my father was a soft chief, everyone wondered how i was his offspring but only because they never met my mother. she was everything.”

bakugou pauses. “i wish i could have met them,” you whisper.

“i wish you could’ve too,” then he grunts, “your turn.”

“i got into my fair share of fights too,”

“adorable.” you frown at your lover who still grins at you, “everythin’ you do is gonna be adorable to me. face it or leave.”

you put your hand in his face in defiance though he just kisses your palm.

“i loved studying and reading. sitting in with my father and his men. cooking with our servants but mostly eating. i was close to benji, he’d come with his father to alter and deliver new clothes. our parents would let us play together because they respected his father.” you shrug, “he didn’t know all of me even then. i never told him what i knew about raids because he always seemed too kind for that type of violence. he wouldn’t have understood.”

you look up and bakugou who’s hanging onto every word. “that’s why we do what we do. so our people don’t have to.”

you bite down on your lip and nod. he’s all warm and cosy, your new definition of home. you hold eye contact for as long as possible before his caramel scent drags you in for a kiss. at first it’s just a press of lips. connecting to one before you start shifting around on his lap. bringing one leg to the other side of his waist. chest to chest, legs around his waist. your centre pressed directly against his hardness.

you cock a brow and your handsome chief fiancé shrugs, “you’re beautiful and sittin’ on me.” and that’s enough of a reason.

you tighten your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist without a sliver of air inbetween. then lastly, your lips lock with open mouths. pants and moans and flicks of your hips. calloused hands rub your sides then over your ass, squeezing each cheek with just the right amount of pain that you sigh against his tongue. you’re sucking on him, tilting your head for the best angle as your hands grip at his shirt then his hair. your nipples harden and the friction against your underwear and his rough slacks has you feeling equal parts hopeless and hopeful yet completely needy.

“and people think you can’t fuckin’ handle me. wanna prove them wrong for me, princess?” his hand only leaves your ass to scrape his hair off his forehead and you’re mush for him.

you feel like the human version of unscrewing a tight jar of jam. before you get to dip your finger in the sweetness, you have the sweet release of simply opening the jar. the offer he gives to do anything to him. the pop has you straightening your spine and nodding.

“yes,” you sniff and you’re sure you must look like a kitten begging for a treat with blown out pupils. “lay back for me.”

bakugou does what he’s told, but not before yanking off his shirt and grabbing a pillow off the nearest chair to stuff it behind his head.

“is this my life now? wantin’ to murder anybody who looks at you?” his voice is a grumble laced with arousal as you shuffle to pull off the shirt you threw on earlier. back in your baby blue underwear. you decide to keep it on.

“only when they want to take me away from you,” you whisper, touching his jaw with the tips of your fingers and laying two pecks on his lips.

he’s greedy though, going in again for more.

“i can promise you that. nobody’s gonna be takin’ you away from me.” the words float between both your lips and the next kiss confirms it in a promise.

“good,” is all you remember to say. then, “don’t hate me, i want to try a new position.”

bakugou raises an eyebrow though lets you do as you please.

you rotate around so your back is to him and his length is right before you. you’re quick to shuffle down his trousers and he lifts his hips to help you.

“prefer seein’ your face,” he only mumbles because as much as that’s true he does enjoy your ass bouncing in his face.

you only laugh, your mouth is about to start watering any second. your husb— fiancé, is stunning. fucking everywhere. he’s leaking already, thick, hard and intimidating. you run your finger along a particularly hard vein. he twitches.

“babe, no.”

he’s stern like he’s reprimanding you but the way his hips lean into your touch tell a different story.

“shush katsuki,” is all you mumble as you slide your ass back so you’re sitting on his collarbones and you lean forward to take him all in your mouth.

it makes you sigh in relief. he’s only got his hands on your calves but him in your mouth makes you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. you never thought you’d become a woman who wants to please a man but you guess that was before you met bakugou.

“f—fuck,” he stutters and you can imagine his face right now. eyes clenched shut, biting down on his bottom lip and looking completely beautiful. “you’re so good to me baby.”

the praise has you rolling, literally. you bob your head up and down, just how he likes. it’s noisy and a little messy. sucking when you get to the top and hollowing out your cheeks. if he asks you won’t admit you’re doing this completely for yourself, maybe to prove you can handle him. the jolts of his hips down your throat. even the fact your gag reflex seems to disappear around him. a couple chokes here and there but nothing you can’t handle.

until two hands find your ass and your privates are against a wet warm tongue.

you pull him out your mouth immediately, your forehead landing on his hip. your hips aren’t yours anymore, grinding on your fiancé’s face for any bit of the golden pleasure that warms you.

“oh, oh,” is all you manage.

“keep my cock in your mouth or you’re not comin’,”

“mean,” a slap lands on your ass, “hey! i didn’t say no!”

then there’s a grunt before lips circle your clit, bakugou’s way of ending the conversation and you welcome it.

it’s loud and wet. loud mostly from you moaning on his dick and then him jolting every time you do. he doesn’t need to add any fingers since you’re doing more than perfectly fine every time his tongue traces your hole and prods inside.

you’re in heaven, everything that happened earlier completely forgotten. it’s nothing in this moment of time.

especially when bakugou, pulls your pussy off his face to breathe and warn you, “i’m gonna come, baby.” like you couldn’t tell already. you just push your hips back onto his face to silence him.

he huffs a laugh, “okay, okay.”

you keep your hand circled at his base, another lightly squeezing at his balls. you keep breathing out your nose as you do a particularly long suck just at the same time he does to your clit. you don’t need to announce you’re close too, he knows.

as soon as you release your jaw, he lets go. shooting down your throat which you completely lap up. bakugou grips each ass cheek harshly as he does, his mouth losing all meaning as he comes, hanging open stupidly.

that’s fine as him coming only makes you come. your body shaking as heat ripples through you.

“fuck,” he spits and when his mind starts to clear, he pushes two fingers inside of you.

you yelp in surprise, pulling him out your mouth, “oh my—,”

he jabs them in and out with a skill you don’t even possess on yourself. his fingers curl to rub against your walls and it all makes your orgasm grow. it attacks your body, making you unsure whether to push back onto him or run away.

you’re not in the right state to wipe your mouth as you make a sound you never knew you could.

it’s a mix between a squeak and scream before you roll out of his grip to lay beside him on the ground. chest heaving, sweaty with dried substances on your face. no better way to be.

bakugou sits up first to look down at you. he licks the corner of his thumb to clean up your face.

“missed your face,” he breathes and you genuinely believe him. three words said in a relieved exhale. “beautiful.”

you’re unsure why it makes you shy, especially after just having his dick down your throat. he ducks down to kiss you and you accept it immediately. you taste yourself on his tongue and you’re sure he tastes himself too.

“missed you too.” the only right thing to say at this moment.

“fuck, we’re so soppy,” he chuckles, refusing to look away from your eyes. it’s so intimate, his naked body beside you, his fingers finding yours and linking softly.

you hold his cheek in your palm, “don’t think i’ve forgotten about your arm. i’m going to tell sophie to get your doctor to come over tonight.”

your chief pouts. it’s a sight worth painting.

“fine. happy wife, happy life.”

“don’t you forget it.”

Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn't from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you're thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, mentions of child loss, mentions of/contemplating abortion, mentions of difficulty conceiving. Cheating if you squint

Chapter One - The things we forget.

Chapter Two - The weight on the tip of my tongue.

Chapter Three - The ghost that haunts my dreams, I shall not forget.

Final Chapter- The final good bye, I'll break my promise one last time.

bad days & insecurities | katsuki x f!reader

a/n: here’s another untouched excerpt i had sitting in my drafts that i don’t think i’ll finish. enjoy.

tw: f!reader, chubby reader, insecurities, comfort fluff

“Just - just don’t fucking touch me,” you said angrily.

“The fuck? What do you mean, don’t touch you?”

You chanced a glance his way and saw the hurt in Katsuki’s eyes. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe-

“Huh?”

“I mean don’t touch me. I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied. “And I know you hate it when I tell you that, but that’s the answer you’re getting.”

“No, it’s not. What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice raising.  

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Katsuki,” you shouted. “Just drop it.”

You walked to the bathroom hoping to secure some privacy, but Katsuki wasn’t having it. 

You reached for he handle as he slammed the door away from your hand into the wall, wide open. You knew him enough to know it took all of his effort not to force you to look his way. But right now you didn’t care. Everything inside hurt, it hurt too much. All you wanted was the hot water on your back and the lights off so you didn’t have to see what parts of you didn’t deserve him. 

“If you don’t get the hell out of this bathroom and let me shower-”

“Look at me.”

“No,” you said. 

He wouldn’t let it go. 

“Please, baby. I - I won’t yell, I promise,” Katsuki said, pain evident in his voice. 

It felt like hot daggers in your stomach. A lump grew in your throat. 

“It’s not that. Not you. I’m sorry for being so childish,” you said. “I’m having a really tough day, that’s all.”

“Then let me-”

“No,” you said firmly. “I need to be alone.”

Katsuki stood quietly. 

“Please, Kats.” Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. 

“Was it that fucking bitch again? She getting into your head?” he asked. 

‘That bitch’ was a shitty coworker who never seemed to shut up about you. What you ate, what you wore, how your body looked, your job performance. Someone who had the gall to tell you to your face that you weren’t good enough for the hero standing in the room. Who said that he could do so much better. 

“No, I just…” 

“What is it?” he said. 

“You don’t want the truth.” Your voice was quiet and pleading. 

“The fuck are you on about, babe? Yes, I do.”

You took a deep breath. “You deserve better. I don’t want to elaborate. And I don’t want you to console me or tell me I’m wrong right now. My body feels gross, and I want to process it on my own.”

The crushing hug he pulled you into knocked the air out of your chest. “Kats-”

“Shut it. I want to hold you, n you’re gonna let me,” he said grumpily. Katsuki kissed you on the head. “Fuckin’ tellin’ me I can’t touch you. ‘S bullshit.”

You cracked a little grin, your face pressed into his chest. He held you in silence for what felt like ages, but eventually a calmness soothed the tightness in your stomach.

“I love you. Can I shower now?” you asked.

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m not done with you, little miss. You owe me a damn kiss or ten after that.”

You laughed and met his scowling gaze.

“That’s fair.” You leaned in and stood on your toes. “How about one for the road to start with?”

“‘S more like it.” Katsuki lifted your chin, pressing his soft lips to yours.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @pastelbakugou @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @citysweet @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @gold24fish

— twist of fate

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, marked on your calendar for the best part of a year and the start of a beautiful future. You’d met the love of your life, the man you were going to marry and grow old with, and you’d made it through navigating the torturous dating scene. The awkward first dates and first kiss, and the first ‘I love yous’, and yet here you were drinking on a rooftop with the Number Two Pro-Hero Dynamight.

I promised I’d post some more Bakugou cause it has been a little while and I do miss him! I actually wrote this for his birthday, but then I ended up posting the collab fic instead so I never got to write the smut part but I hope someone enjoys it anyway.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: breakups (not with Bakugou), mutual comfort, alcohol.

Word Count: 1.8k.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, marked on your calendar for the best part of a year and the start of a beautiful future. You’d met the love of your life, the man you were going to marry and grow old with, and you’d made it through navigating the torturous dating scene. The awkward first dates and first kiss, and the first ‘I love yous’.

I love you— what a big fucking lie.

You scoffed as you took a large gulp from the champagne bottle you were holding, grabbed from the bar at your now abandoned reception as you looked out at the view of Musutafu at night. The viewing point was somewhere you used to visit with your fiance, and to think it was the first place you’d decided to go when you found out he’d left you at the altar was borderline morbid. But considering your perfect life had now crumbled around you, you could forgive yourself for the psychological torment.

Kicking your heels off as your feet began to ache, letting them drop to the floor as you swung your legs over the ledge. Your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you sat on the grass, “Your pretty dress is ruined!” Not that you’d have any use for it now, your perfect life was pretty much gone.

“You know how dangerous it is drinkin’ so close to the edge?” You rolled your eyes in irritation at the sound, turning your head ready to shot some expletives in their direction before your words caught at the back of your throat.

You had to do a double take to make sure you were actually seeing what you were seeing, and that you weren’t this inhibriated already. The Number Two Pro-Hero Dynamight stood a few feet away, arms crossed with his face set in a a heavy glare. But he didn’t appear to have his gauntlets with him, even though his belt was still full of grenades and his mask sat over his eyes. Instead he was covered in a thick black hoodie that was zipped to cover the garish orange X that splashed across his chest.

“Well it must be my lucky night, I’ve got a Pro-Hero here to save me.” Sarcasm oozed through your tone as you held your large bottle up in a mock cheers to the Number Two hero that had appeared over the hill.

Besides the randy teenagers that used to frequent the area to make out and get high, this side of Musutafu was usually pretty abandoned so you were disappointed to see you were no longer alone.

“I’m off the clock, sweetheart.” He sneered back, shaking his head, “And I shouldn’t have to waste my time saving stupid people like you.”

“So don’t save me then,” You shrugged, turning back to face the city as the sun slowly fell over the horizon.

You expected him to walk away and leave you there, probably on a patrol to catch the kids that used the area to get high. But what you didn’t expect is for him to take a seat in the dirty grass beside you.

“Thought you couldn’t waste your time.”

“How’s it gonna look if I see your face all over the papers tomorrow with my face under it sayin’ I should’a saved you?”

You turned to face him, noticing the dark rings of charcoal around his eyes filled in from where his mask sat. A three-day strubble cast a shadow across his jawline and you had to take another sip of champagne to pull your attention away.

“I didn’t think you cared what the media said about you, Dynamight.” You laughed, remembering a post you’d seen online earlier that month where he’d shoved a reporter to the ground at the scene of a crime and broke his camera.

“I don’t.” He scoffs, “But I ain’t a total fucking asshole.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” You laugh, gulping another mouthful of champagne as you look down at the city lights below, “You make it your business to go around breaking cameras?”

“Very fuckin’ funny.” Bakugou sneers, “That guy deserved it. Tryin’ to take pictures in the middle of a fight— he’s lucky I saved him or he’d have come out far worse than his shitty camera.”

“Wow, you’re a real hero, Dynamight.” You teased back.

“So you gonna explain why you’re up here in—”

“Oh, why am I wearing a wedding dress and drinking alone?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head. “My fiancé decided to stick his dick into my best friend.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened beneath this mask at the blunt statement before he shook his head, keeping his attention ahead to the bright lights in front of you.

“Shit.” He muttered beneath his breath.

You scoff, taking another swig of champagne, “So I guess you could say I’m celebrating.”

“That’s rough.” He reached up to scratch at his stubble before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“So why are you up here, Mr Number Two?” You smile, “Not got any babies to save from burning buildings? Or camera men to hit—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He scoffed, his nose scrunched in irritation before his face paled.

You thought perhaps he might get up and leave after your bold question but instead he sniffed, using the outside of his wrist to rub his nose before looking across at the city.

“A villain attacked a building just outside Musutafu tonight,” He muttered hoarsely, “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Shit— I’m so sorry,” You immediately stammered, feeling like such an asshole. Your problems were miniscule in proportion to this, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” He shakes his head, “I would’a never made it, but it still fuckin’ sucks, you know?”

“Yeah,” You murmured back. How could you even comfort someone for something like that? There weren’t enough words in the world that would convey the empathy you felt for him, and the victims.

“I just needed to get away for a bit.” He rasped.

“Me too,” You smiled, “I was sick of everyone looking at me with pity.”

Your family and bridesmaids had been suffocating after it happened, pulling you into their arms and drowning you in faux sympathy.

“Oh my god, I couldn’t imagine that ever happening to me.”

“It’s okay you’re such a strong person, you can do so much better.”

“If my husband ever did this I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I’m glad this came out now and not at my wedding.”

“Such a waste of a pretty dress.”

It was all the same bullshit as you listened to your friends slowly start to make it about themselves while your world crumbled down around you— So you left, thankful you hadn’t bothered to bring your phone as you were left to your own devices.

You offer the champagne bottle out to Bakugou as he stared down at it for a moment before taking it. Adjusting it in one large fist around the base of it before taking a large swig.

“If it means anything, it seems like he’s the fuckin’ idiot for cheating on you.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he passed the bottle back, “Only a real piece of shit leaves his missus on her wedding day.”

His words still managed to have your heart fluttering. You weren’t naive, you knew he was only trying to be nice, especially when thick black lines of eyeliner and mascara smudged in tear stains down your cheeks. Your lipstick faded around your lips and stuck to the neck of your champagne bottle, and your hair was now a complete mess from where you’d ripped out your veil, and still he managed to have you smiling as you couldnt stop the grin that spread across your cheeks.

“How long were they fuckin’?” He asked, and you appreciated the bluntness of it.

“Six months,” You shook your head, “Apparently they got close planning the wedding.”

“Shit, that’s fucked up.” He shook his head, reaching back for the champagne bottle as you watched him take another drink. Certain your lipstick was pressed against his chapped lips now as you shared the same bottle.

“Yep,” You rolled the ‘p’, “And apparently he spent the night with her after the rehearsal too,” You sighed, “I just can’t believe I didn’t see the signs.”

“Ain’t any of this that’s your fault,” He shook his head, taking another swig of champagne before handing the bottle back to you, “And thinkin’ like that will eat you up inside.”

“Could say the same thing to you, Dynamight.”

“I didn’t say it didn’t suck,” He shook his head, “And call me Bakugou, I ain’t workin’.”

“I’m glad to hear the Number Two hero doesn’t drink on the job— fuck.”

You shivered as a gust of wind swirled through the vantage point, reminding you of your outfit as you’d left the venue without a suitable coat. Hugging your arms around your body to try and stop your teeth from chattering as you drank more champagne, hoping the alcohol would warm your veins.

You heard a zip to the side of you and before you could object, Bakugou was shrugging his hoodie off to wrap it around your bare shoulders.

“Don’t worry about me, you’ll get cold—”

“Shaddup,” He cut you off, taking the champagne bottle back off you so that you could slip your hands through the arms, “Just take it, woman.”

You were immediately surrounded by warmth, his body heat still radiated from the fabric as you breathed in the scent of him. A mixture of ash, smoke and cologne as you pulled it tighter around your frame.

Bakugou pulled his hero mask up over his eyes to let it sit on his forehead, his messy hair now spiking upwards as he rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palm. The dark eyeliner around them smearing against his skin as he breathed a relaxed sigh, taking another drink as he turned his attention back to the view in front of him.

“You’re quite pretty actually,” You smiled at him, “The media always get you pulling the ugliest faces.”

“Hah?” He turned to you with a raised brow, his nose scrunched in irritation, “That’s still my fuckin’ face you know.

“Yeah, and I’m saying it’s really pretty.” You definitely blamed the alcohol flowing through your veins for giving you this level of confidence, certain the words would never have left your lips if you were sober.

“I ain’t ever been called pretty before.” He scoffed.

“I dunno why not— because it’s true.” You smiled.

“I ain’t the pretty one out of us two, sweetheart. Trust me.”

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ х ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

~sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs~ you have been scorned by one too many men in your past. because of these traumatic experiences, you take it upon yourself to become the protector to those who need it most. you become the Red Medusa, an infamous vigilante roaming the streets of Musutafu.

~ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇхᴘᴇᴄᴛ~ slow burn, angst, betrayal, enemies to lovers, PTSD + flashbacks, trauma, harassment, a fear/hatred toward men, graphic depictions of violence, gun usage + gun violence, vigilante reader x pro hero Bakugou, nsfw in later chapters. there will be more specific warnings in each and every chapter, as well 🫶🏼

~ᴀʟsᴏ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3~

~ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ~

~ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇs~ this has been bouncing around in my head since April of 2022!!! I’m just so happy to see this all come to fruition, no matter how long it’s taken me to get started. I hope you all enjoy this very vulnerable work of mine, as it hits a lot closer to home than I expected it to!!

updates will come every Monday (hopefully 🤞🏼) thank you all for reading and I hope you guys enjoy 🧡🖤

ᴍᴇᴅᴜsᴀ [ᴍᴇʜ-ᴅᴏᴏ-ᴢᴀ] ɴᴏᴜɴ - ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ; ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛʀᴇss; ᴀɴ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴠɪʟ; ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ; ᴀ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғᴏᴜʀ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴠᴇ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ six_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ (ɴsғᴡ)_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ (ɴsғᴡ)_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ_

_ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ - ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ (ɴsғᴡ)_

f!reader | thinkin abt prone bone with katsuki. he’ll put his full weight on you bc he doesn’t give a single fuck if it’s too much, he wants it. his fat cock slams into you, heavy balls clapping against your clit almost too hard, but you can’t stop him, so does that even matter? your legs are almost spread too wide as he cages you in, but he’ll pull them back open if you try to close them because he wants to fuck you so deep he’s in your guts. maybe his hands are under your chest so he can grope your tits, twist and pull your nipples as much as he wants. he’ll pull your head back hard by the hair to get better access to your neck, keep you from muffling the moans he’s ripping out of your body. he’ll finger your mouth like that just to see you drool, feel your cunt clench and flutter from the humiliation of it. he’ll suck and bite hard marks into your skin along your neck and shoulder, kiss the tender spots that he’s created. maybe he’ll do all of those things while you’re laying with your back against his chest so he is hands have more purchase over your body as he thrusts up into you. but what runs through your head the most when you’re alone is the way he speaks to you. his voice, much like his groans are low and rough, but still soft enough that it gives you chills.

“tch. listen t’you, so fuckin needy…. such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck you like this. takin’ me so well…. you deserve it, princess. deserve t’be fucked like you belong t’me…. who owns you, huh?…. ‘s right, i do…. so fuckin’ perfect f’me…. fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. lemme have it. make a mess on my cock…. that’s my girl, don’t stop cumming. i need it, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby….”

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @pastelbakugou @gold24fish @heartofjasmina

𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

— you’re an up and coming pro hero; fresh faced, roaring through your twenties with your highly successful U.A years far behind you. but when one little drunk slip up has you falling through the hero ranks, will a single pretty bird of prey help you soar back up? or will you end up falling for him?

⇝ pairing: keigo takami x fem!reader

⇝ status: COMPLETE.

⇝ updates: every monday, friday && sunday !

⇝ genre: social media!au, pro hero!au, fake dating!au, crack, fluff, angst, smut.

⇝ warning(s): swearing ( mostly bakugou ), suggestive, rated 17+, slight!age gap, eventual smut hoho, everyone is aged-up into their twenties since they’re pros now, todoroki siblings being a mess, um crazy exes and stupid boys? 

⇝ author’s note(s): this isn’t my first smau but it is my first one for my hero and on this blog ! i hope y’all keigo simps enjoy bc i had so much fun writing this and hope to write more smaus in the future <3 

TAGLIST  ✈️ CLOSED

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𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐏

✽ — PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader ✽ — SYNOPSIS: When a job goes south, Bakugou and Kirishima are left dealing with the consequences of saving a life that maybe they shouldn't have. ✽ — WORD COUNT: est. 30.2k ✽ — WARNINGS: Female reader (she/her used), Cyberpunk AU, gun violence, gunshot wounds, descriptions of dead bodies, blood, body modifications, amnesia, death threats, POV changes between Bakugou & Reader, enemies to lovers (?), eventual smut, angst, no beta reader, no second part, there are no happy endings in night city. ✽ — NOTES: It only took me two years but hey, it's here. You don't necessarily need to know anything about cyberpunk to read this, I've tried to explain things as best as I can in the fic itself. But if you have any questions, please feel free to send me an ask! ✽ — EXTRAS: Playlist // AO3

“Shit!”

“The fuck did you do now?!” The blonde rounds the back of the car, a hand clasping the handgun tight in one hand whilst the other runs frantically through his sweat-slicked hair. It was not meant to go like this, this was meant to be an easy job. 

That’s what Aizawa said! Easy! The warehouse they were supposed to hit tonight was rumoured to be empty, no one had been seen moving in and out of it for days. There wasn’t meant to be a gunfight and now Bakugou worries about how it’ll come back around to bite him in the ass. 

His eyes snap away from the pools of blood and a mixture of chemical fluids. Kirishima is hunched over something in the open trunk of the car, his shoulders are bunched and Bakugou can practically feel the tension rolling off of his best friend in waves. “Oi, what the fuck is—”

Kirishima steps back, and Bakugou’s words die on the tip of his tongue when he stares down at the loot Aizawa had sent them to get. He had said it was just a simple shipment, a bunch of cyberware shit that needed to be shifted from one side of Night City to the other. But this was not just any old sort of cyberware. 

Arasaka cyberware. 

That meant the crate would most likely be tracked, and inside of it would be goods worth more money than either of the two Mercs had touched in their entire life.

“Oh fuck me–” Bakugou speaks first, eyes locked onto the metallic case. “Ei, we need to drop this shit. We can’t be caught with it, they’ll have our fucking balls.”

“No shit we can’t be caught with it! But what do we do with it now?! We can’t just leave it, what if the Maelstrom comes back and takes whatever’s inside of it?” Kirishima’s the one glaring at Bakugou now, the look making the man of 6’8” seem more of a terrifying monster than anything. “Why did you have to say yes to this job, man? We were fine for a few more weeks–”

“Because it would’ve gotten us both out of the fucking city Eijirou!” Bakugou yells finally, he is shorter than Kirishima but still at his own height of 6’3”, he makes up for his lack of height in comparison with his explosive anger. “I took it so that we could go back fucking home! Don’t you want that?!”

“Of course, I wan–”

Bang!

Instinctively Bakugou and Kirishima drop to the ground, Bakugou pulls his handgun up and is ready to fire whilst Kirishima's skin shifts with the metal plating. The two of them were a two-man team that was inseparable, Kirishima the shield and Bakugou the firepower. Both of their eyes are locked together as they wait to see if there’s another gunshot, Bakugou’s heart feels like it might beat its way out of his chest any minute now. He was certain he had gotten everyone, his optical enhancements had confirmed as much. 

The red of his eyes flash to life as he takes a deep breath before peeking over the back of the car, it’s silent for a moment before he hears a dragging noise and sure enough—there’s a body heat signature east of the car, hidden behind some boxes and crates. His arms adjust on the car, holding his gun steady, ready to shoot the second their head peeks over the crate.

…But then the heat signature flickers out, and Bakugou drops his position in confusion before there’s another bang and this time the bullet does collide with the car. 

“Fuck, they’ve got some sort of tech that lets them hide from my optics,” Bakugou whispers harshly to Kirishima who has his back plastered to the car, his face stoic despite the possibility of being taken out by someone who was possessing cyberware that’d allow them to appear out of thin air practically. 

Kirishima nods once, the body plating along his forearms clicking into place as he readies to use himself as a human shield. Bakugou steels his nerves, eyes flashing back to life before finally saying “Move with me.”

The two of them are up in an instant, Kirishima crossing his arms over his upper half and tensing his muscles to ensure his body mass covers Bakugou entirely whilst the blonde slips his arm just beneath Kirishima’s with the gun poised and ready to shoot. The crimson of his eye gleams in the darkness when he catches the heat signature once again dashing from one crate to another and this time Bakugou doesn’t hesitate. The gun fires in rapid succession, neither of the men flinching. The reaction is immediate when there’s what sounds like something falling to the floor. 

“Lost visual again,” Bakugou confirms when the warm red spot vanishes from his vision, leaving just droplets of what must be blood on the floor in their wake. Both mercs wait in silent anticipation, Kirishima moving with each step Bakugou takes as if it were second nature to him—perhaps at this point in life, it was second nature. 

Kirishima had come with Bakugou from Tokyo to Night City nearly 15 years ago with the plan that the two of them were simply there for one job. It was going to give them life-changing money, something the two of them desperately needed for themselves and their families back home. 

“Ei!” Bakugou yells, Kirishima plants both of his boots against the ground and brings up his arms to defend his face. The bullet buries itself into the metal plating of his arm, pulling a deep grunt from the man.

“Motherfucker–!” 

Bakugou again fires the gun, a snarl resting on his face and this time he hears the sound of flesh being hit by the bullet, and then the sound of a body slumping onto the ground. Kirishima finally steps down from being the human shield, pulling his arm up to view the bullet that’s embedded deep into his forearm. No doubt the Doc will be pissed about this when he gets back.

“All good?” Bakugou asks, changing out the mag in his gun before glancing towards the foot he can now see peeking out from behind the boxes. Kirishima grunts a yes whilst pulling the bullet free from his arm, the sound of it hitting the floor loud in the now silent warehouse. “Doc’s gonna kill ya for that.” 

“Ya think? She only just upgraded it for me.” Kirishima almost whines, quite the opposite of the man he just was as he watches the black liquid of the synthetic fluids leak from his arm in place of blood. “If I ask her nicely, do you think– Hey, where are you going?” Kirishima watches Bakugou slam shut the trunk of the car before stomping his way over to the body he’d just shot, he had to know if it was enough scumbag from some gang or if Arasaka were already onto them.

Bakugou rounds the crate, readying his gun to fire once more and freezes in place; gun raised just slightly, eyes widened and mouth ajar. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me—Ei, get here. Now.”

Kirishima walks over when the ash blonde hisses at him to hurry the fuck up, wiping the black liquid free from his arms before looking down at what Bakugou was staring at. 

“Ohh.. fuck, dude.” He gapes at the girl lying on the floor, covered head-to-toe in blacked-out clothing. But it wasn’t the fact it was a girl that Bakugou had taken down, but rather it was the fact she had the Militech symbol stitched into the sleeve of her t-shirt. “What the fuck did Militech want with this?”

“I don’t know—maybe to reignite that old corporate war they had years ago with Arasaka? Everyone knows both of them are fucked up.” Bakugou is still frozen, the handgun still aimed to shoot. If he takes out this Militech assassin, it’s most likely going to be tracked back to them and by them; he means the new family he had found in Night City. It was a tightly knit group, all coming from similar backgrounds to his own but ending up in NC for different reasons. He couldn’t do that to them, he couldn’t get them killed because he took a job to run away.

Kirishima squats down next to the body, head tilting as he leans a little closer towards her head. His hand hovers just next to her face, “The fuck you doin’ now? Gettin’ your big ass fingerprints all over the body so they ca—” 

“Shush,” Kirishima demands, and Bakugou goes to defy immediately before he’s shushed for a second time whilst Kirishima puts his index finger beneath her nose. It’s a tense moment, but he feels it. “Still breathing, we could still call trauma and—”

“And what? She relays to her boss that she ran into one very identifiable red-haired giant and his angry friend? No. We kill her.” 

“Wait! Wait!” Kirishima moves to push the gun away when Bakugou raises it, meeting his scathing glare with his own determined one. “What if we use her for info? Clearly whatever is in that box is worth enough to get both Arasaka and Militech willing to fight.” 

Bakugou’s jaw ticks as he clenches it, eyes flicking between his red-haired friend and the girl on the floor. He’s right, Aizawa might know something about this, and if they’re able to pull info from her about Militech then they could probably sell it to Arasaka for a pretty penny. 

“Shit.” He huffs, finally pulling the gun back and holstering it. “Fine, but you’re the fucker that’s got to explain why we’re dragging a half-dead Militech asshole through the Docs door.”

“—not keeping—” 

“This is your—” 

“Guys.” 

Everything felt…wrong. Nothing felt like it belonged, and yet it did at the same time. Mechanical parts clicking and groaning, blood pumping in and out, brain whirring to life. Lights that are far too bright for delicate eyes, and all noises submerged in synthetic water. 

What was happening? 

Where were you?

“Can you hear me?” a voice calls from a distant place to your left, you want to open your eyes or will your lips to move to form the words that are hanging at the end of your tongue. What happened to you? Nothing made sense, you didn’t recognise that voice and you didn’t recognise the coldness of the metal table you were laid on. 

“Hey—wait, calm down.” A smooth, cold hand presses itself against your sternum and it was as if a light switch had been flipped in the dark recesses of your mind. You didn’t have to think when your own hand wraps around the offending limb, fingers curling dangerously tight.

“Shit, I knew this was a fucking mistake!” A new voice, distantly familiar. There’s a scrambling of feet, and finally, your eyes are opening. The light is blinding, but you can make out the blurry outlines of figures that are double your size and they’re frantically moving to reach something; guns, you belatedly realise and you don’t miss a beat in hauling yourself off of the metal table. 

The two men—you can finally see them now and they’re nothing short of a pair of gigantic cyborgs—have turned to you with guns raised but they haven't made a move yet. Your arm tenses around something until you hear a squeak accompanied by a choking sound. Hesitantly you glance down to see you have a woman with brown hair pinned to your chest with one forearm crushing her throat and the other raised in their direction. 

“Now, just hold on.” The one with the red hair speaks, his hands raised to show he’s no threat but you don’t miss the way his skin shifts with the metal plating. Armour. He must be the shield, and the other must be the firepower. 

“Lower your weapon.” Weapon? You flick your eyes towards the blonde who most definitely isn’t lowering his weapon. The redhead shifts again, and he’s taken a step forward towards you but his hands are still up in surrender. “Please, lower your weapon.”

He must see the confusion on your face so he points towards your free arm currently not crushing the woman to your body. You hesitate to look where his finger is pointing, but it’s hard to miss when your eyes drift slightly away from the redhead. In place of your arm is what looks like an M-179 precision rifle. 

Wait—how do you know what type of weapon that is? You’ve never held a gun in your life before, you–you…–you were just some street rat. The weapon retreats back into your arm, clicking your own metal plates back together until it’s smoothed over as if it had never existed in the first place.

Did these people put these parts into you? Had they found you passed out in some dark alleyway and dragged you here to experiment on you? That’s the only explanation, it’s the only reason you’re in this dingy ripper doctor's office. 

“S–Stop. Can’t—breathe.” the woman croaks against your arm, and you realise you’re actually starting to crush her windpipe with your forearm. She stumbles forward with a hard choke, whilst you launch yourself back into the surrounding deskspace. Metal clangs and surgical instruments fall to the floor in a loud clatter, the roaring in your ears is too loud to hear what the people are saying to you.

Another set of hands place themselves against you, your upper arms this time but they’re no longer cold, they’re warm. A shroud of red covers the edges of your vision and all you can focus on is the face directly in front of yours, his lips are moving and it’s impossible to decipher what he’s trying to say. 

Why does his face seem so familiar? You had seen this hair somewhere before, and those teeth. You had never run into someone with such sharp teeth and yet your mind couldn’t stop trying to find just where you had seen them before. The red-haired man looks over his shoulder, letting you see the blonde who was frowning in your direction still brandishing the gun that was pointed directly at your head if anything were to go wrong. 

“—know man!”

“Move so I can—”

“You.” Both voices silence immediately. Two different sets of red eyes on you and yet they both carry a different feeling; one filled with curious sympathy and the other hardened disgust. “Who are you? I–I think I know you.” 

“Uh, well, I’m Kirishima.” There’s a groan of annoyance from what you assume to be the blonde whilst the one named Kirishima keeps his eyes on yours. “What about you, what’s your name?”

Your lips part, tongue moving to accommodate the syllables of your name and yet nothing comes forward. You try again with furrowed eyebrows but it feels like your tongue is too big for your mouth and your throat is restricting around your name. In your oncoming panic, you latch a hand to your throat, widening your eyes when you try again and again to spit your name out.

“Hey! Alright!” A hand comes around your wrist and peels your fingers away from the skin of your throat, and Kirishima takes a deep breath when he looks down at you. “You don’t remember a thing, do you?” your only response is a shake of your head, and you swear the man's shoulders slump as he deflates a little at your admission. Had they known you?

“Fuckin’ brilliant, Ei. Now Aizawa’s gonna have our ass for bringing back a death machine with memory loss and the tendency to lash out!” Death machine? Did he mean you? However you don’t get to answer the question because the blonde stomps out of the room, the slam of the door stunning the room into silence. 

Another sigh before Kirishima drops his hands from your upper arms and straightens out to his full height. He is huge, bigger than anyone you have ever seen before. “You should rest before tonight.” He supplies, turning towards the door and you realise the brown-haired woman had also vacated the room at some point. 

“Wait. Tonight?” you take a careful step after him and you don’t miss the way his shoulders stiffen, nor the way his forearm plating clicks to ready himself. Was he scared of you? No. That can’t be right, this gigantic man could not be scared of you. You’re certain he could crush you if he wanted with just a single hand.

“Tonight you’re meeting our fixer.” and just like that he was gone, the door closing behind him with an audible click. 

They had locked you in.

Looking back around the room, eyes caught on the glint of various medical tools that had been scattered across the white tile floor. There are no windows besides the one at the far back of the room, but even from where you stand you can see it’s barred. You were well and truly trapped.

And so, with nothing else to do, you sat in the desk chair by the bed you had woken up on—and waited.

...

The next time you see Kirishima is when he had come to collect you from your makeshift prison, at some point someone—you assumed it was the Ripper—had shoved clothes in through the small gap of the door, you hadn’t realised you were in a state of undress when you had initially woken up. 

Kirishima smiles at you, but you can see it doesn’t meet his eyes as he towers over you. He’s dressed differently too, in a black leather jacket over a red distressed vest and black jeans with some very expensive-looking sneakers. He looked much more like his age like this, you didn’t realise he was more around your age. 

“Ready?” Kirishima offers, burying both of his hands into his front pockets and leaning against the frame of the door—While he seemed relaxed, you knew he was blocking off your only escape route.

You look down at yourself, you’re not quite sure how they had managed to get your size somewhat right but the black cargo pants and graphic tee were comfortable. The only thing they hadn’t measured correctly was the heavy orange bomber jacket that dwarfed you immensely. 

“Yeah, readier than I’ll ever be anyway.” Kirishima just nods, finally pushing the door open and letting you walk out first before he shuts the door behind you both.

The door immediately opens out onto a street, the floor is wet from the rain and the neon street lights give the dingy alleyway some light. You can’t tell where you are, when you look up there is nothing but a concrete overpass blocking you from seeing the sky. “C’mon, he doesn’t like tardiness.” 

“Who?” You jog to keep up with Kirishima’s wide – normal – steps, you barely come up to his shoulder and you have to crane your head up to look at him. 

“Aizawa, our fixer. He doesn’t normally meet with new faces, but you’ve piqued his interest.”

“But how? I’ve not done anything, I don’t even know who I am.” You try to explain, the emptiness that sits in your brain is unnerving, to say the least. 

Kirishima finally looks down at you, nothing but pity in his eyes. “That’s exactly why he wants to see you.” 

The rest of the walk is in silence, not that Kirishima seems to mind much whilst he flicks through his phone. You’re not quite sure who Aizawa was, but you knew what Fixers were. They were smugglers, fencers and they loved to handle information. Is that why he wanted to see you? To get information from you? But you had none to give, and when Fixers often don’t get what they want… they dispose of the useless item. 

Sparing a glance towards Kirishima, he was far too engrossed in his phone to realise the thoughts you were currently harbouring. You could make a run for it, he’s much bigger than you, sure, but you’re smaller. Maybe you’re faster. He could lose you easily in a crowd of people, you don’t want to be killed for something that’s not your fault. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Kirishima says without missing a beat, his eyes not drifting away from his phone and you have to focus on not tripping over your own feet at being caught out. He hadn’t even looked at you, you weren’t that obvious– “If you run then that means I have to admit Bakugou was right and then I have to chase you down.” Finally, he looks at you, raising an eyebrow to see if you’re still going to do it. 

“I won’t run.” You say with less conviction than you would’ve liked but Kirishima seems happy enough with it, finally pocketing his phone into his back pocket before nodding his head forward.

“Here we are.” You turn to look at the building you’re both standing in front of. It fronts what looks to be a bar, not quite as modern as some of the others you had passed by. It looked more oriental and authentic. It’s not imposing, it blends in perfectly wedged between two other buildings that look like stores—it’s the perfect place for a Fixer you realise, it stands out enough to those seeking the man known as Aizawa but in an area shoddy enough that it won’t draw in too many people. 

Kirishima doesn’t give you more time to inspect the building, guiding you inwards with a hand between your shoulder blades until you’re past the old wooden doors and inside a very well-kept bar. It’s relatively empty, with a few people hanging around by the bar but it’s quiet.

Your eyes rove over the multitude of artwork hanging from the walls, swirling paint strokes and sculptured mythical creatures. Kirishima drops his hand from your back once he’s sure you’re secured in the building, leaving you standing alone whilst he meanders towards the bar to talk to a pretty girl with bouncy curly pink hair.

“Oi,” a gruff voice calls from behind you, your shoulders jump at the closeness of the gruff voice and you spin to see the blonde from earlier. He has a frown on his face the second he meets your eyes before they drag down and latch onto the bomber jacket you’re wearing. He seems to glare somewhat harder, sucking at the back of his teeth. “No fucking around. I won’t hesitate to blow your head off this time.” 

“This her?” a deep, almost sleepy voice drawls and you turn to meet the man to whom the voice belongs. He’s got shoulder-length black hair, and tired eyes yet the look he’s giving you is enough to tell you he’s very alert. You can’t help but straighten your spine a little, attention drawn away from the blonde who just huffs and wanders elsewhere. “Doesn’t look like much of a threat to me.” 

You’re left blinking at the man, the silence suffocating until you look hesitantly across the room to meet a set of red eyes—but they aren’t Kirishima’s. Bakugou was clearly growing agitated the longer this was drawn out. “I’ve never been a threat.” 

“Bakugou and Kirishima seem to think otherwise, even our Ripper Doc had said you have some interesting chrome.” Aizawa continues, settling into one of the seats close by before he regards you again. “But they also said you don’t remember who you are, is that true?”

“I–... Yes, it is.” Interesting chrome? “I don’t know how I got my upgrades, I woke up surrounded and I just acted on instinct.” 

There’s a beat of silence, the palms of your hands growing sweaty and you suddenly feel like you’re standing in a pit with lions. 

Then Aizawa breathes in deeply, sighing a little on his exhale. “I don’t know why, but I believe you.” There’s a noise of disagreement from Bakugou somewhere to the side but Aizawa continues anyway, “You could be useful to us. I’m sure your memories will come back over time and you’ll be even more valuable to us then. It’d be stupid of me to let you go.”

“Let me go? You want to keep me prisoner?” 

“Not a prisoner. We just can’t have you wandering the streets in the state that you are, it’s safer for everyone involved if you stay here.”

It made sense, you supposed. You would be safer staying in one place instead of wandering the streets, especially if you had no idea who you were. Swallowing the lump of anxiety, you nod your head in agreement and Aizawa visibly relaxes in his seat before he casts a glance towards Kirishima and Bakugou. 

“On second thoughts… I think it’ll be better for you to stay with those two.”

“What?!” Bakugou all but yells, the beer bottle in his hand smashing onto the floor in haste to get to his feet in disbelief. “I am not a fucking babysitter, and I’m not looking after some corpo—”

“You found her, you look after her. Didn’t I teach you that when I found you?” 

Bakugou’s upper lip curls into a snarl, his eyes darting from Aizawa and towards you–it’s like you’ve been pinned to the spot underneath his hateful gaze. His tongue drags along his lips, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth before he leaves without another word. Kirishima is quick to take his place, stepping up close to you to take you back to wherever you had to stay. 

“I promise he’s not always this bad—well, most of the time he is but he’s a good guy,” Kirishima says, a hand back on the spot between your shoulder blades to guide you out of the bar and back onto the open street where you finally see Bakugou once again. He’s sitting on a motorbike, an expensive-looking one. “Yo, Bakugou. Are we–”

“You have one fucking chance left. If you pull that shit again that you did at the Docs, I’ll personally rip your head from your shoulders. Got it?” Bakugou points a finger in your direction, which only makes Kirishima huff a sigh of annoyance and drag a hand over his face. “One. Then you’re done.”

He must not expect an answer as he slips the helmet over his head, the sleek black of it reflecting only the neon street lights but you can still feel his glare on you before he revs his engine once, twice—then he’s gone. 

You look up at Kirishima finally when Bakugou is gone, and the redhead just smiles awkwardly at you whilst rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did warn ya.”

To say the next few days were painful is an understatement. 

You had been confined to an apartment shared between both Kirishima and Bakugou, whilst the redhead was happy to have another roommate—Bakugou was not. He made it his mission to make it hellish for you. 

It started with him refusing to cook you food whenever he did for Kirishima and himself (Kirishima had to convince him to at least give you something to eat or you’d die and then Aizawa would be pissed). Then it started with the loud music early in the morning, you had no real bed so you had to sleep on the expensive U-shaped couch and Bakugou took great joy in turning the radio on and making sure it was on full blast. 

Kirishima did try to stop Bakugou’s attempts to drive you to a point of anger that would make you act out, which only had Bakugou sneering in your direction before he left to go do whatever the fuck he did all day. 

And it was going somewhat well, that same routine every day. Until Bakugou got a call.

Currently, you’re sitting on the couch, your elbows digging into your thighs whilst you lean forward. The room was deathly silent, save for the sound of the passing Trauma Team AV that flew by the window. 

Kirishima was staring out of the window, both of his hands pressing against the cool metal window ledge, the lights of the nightlife outside reflecting off of the various strips of chrome covering his jaw and down along his throat. 

Opposite you was Bakugou, his knee bouncing in what appeared to be nervousness whilst both of his hands were buried deep in his blonde hair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling above.

“This cannot be fuckin’ happening.” He groans for the nth time that evening since ending the call. “That old fucking man—the nerve, all of the shit I do for him… and this is how he rewards me?!” 

“Dude, Aizawa has never steered us wrong. He obviously thinks we can trust her.” Kirishima says in an odd tone like his voice was devoid of any emotion. You supposed it made sense, he had never been able to trust you either for whatever reason.

“Well, I think we can’t.” Bakugou drops his head back forward, meeting your gaze and a sharp shiver rolls down your spine. “You remember what I told you before I let you come and squat in my apartment?”

“Our apartment.” Kirishima supplies quietly, though Bakugou is undeterred.

“You’ll kill me.” 

“Right, I’ll fucking kill you.” Bakugou finally stands, swiping the pulse rifle off of the table between the two of you before fixing it over one of his shoulders. “Now get the fuck up, we’ve got a Tyger Claws cunt to go kill.” 

The back of Kirishima’s car was very plush, you couldn’t help but wonder how good at being mercs the two of them were. They seemed to be living in the lap of luxury yet they decided to stay in Night City, but you didn’t dare ask why they were still here. Bakugou would probably take the opportunity to bite your head off. 

You sunk into the leather and watched the city pass by, the rain bounced off of the roof of the car and rolled down the windows in thick streaks. It still made no sense as to why Aizawa put you on this mission with them too, they were capable on their own so just what did Aizawa expect from you? You can’t even remember a time when you had used a gun so surely you’d just be deadweight—another reason for Bakugou to be on your ass if you fuck up. 

As if somehow sensing your inner anguish, Kirishima turns in his seat enough to meet your eyes. 

“Ready for this?” You’re not quite sure why he’s asking, even Bakugou seems to furrow his brows in confusion at why the redhead even gives a fuck about if you’re ready or not. “It should be a pretty simple gig, the Tyger Claws are ruthless but this guy we’re going for? Big junkie, won’t see us coming.” Kirishima grins at the end of his sentence, and you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face.

“Right, yeah, I’m ready.” You say with a small nod.

“Say it with more confidence and I might actually believe you for once.” Bakugou gruffs from his own spot in the driver's seat, with only one hand on the wheel and the other propped up on the door beside the window. He’s chewing at the skin of his thumb; one might think he’s actually a bit anxious. Kirishima only gives you a look you now know is his attempt at apologising on behalf of the antagonising blonde before he sinks back into his seat with a huff.

“Don’t gotta be so rude all the time man, she probably doesn’t want to be here as much as you.” Kirishima all but grumbles to himself, looking away when Bakugou shoots him a scathing glare.

“Yeah? Then maybe she’ll fuck off at the first chance she gets, won’t have to deal with her anymore.” The car falls into an awkward silence at that, not even Kirishima can counter the fact that it would be simpler if you did disappear but you can see the sad frown that’s making him look much more like a kicked puppy than anything. The music on the radio does nothing to squash the tension, instead, it only adds to the palpable dark energy rolling from Bakugou in thick waves. 

Soon enough the car is pulled into a darkened alleyway, only the rats and drunkards faintly aware of the presence of the two big mercs who get out of the car in a heartbeat. They seem to move in an organised way; a practised routine you realise. By the time you close the car door behind you, there’s a gun being thrust in your face. “Here, I know it’s not much but—it should do the job,” Kirishima leans a little as if sharing a secret “It’s all Bakugou would agree to give you, think you still scare him.”

You hum, eyeing the handgun in your hand and feeling its weight. It felt lighter than you expected, your fingers moulded perfectly around the hilt and you tilted your head to inspect the barrel. Something feels very familiar with the gun now in your hand, and as you look at both Bakugou and Kirishima to thank them you falter for a moment. 

Your vision flickers, the city behind them flashes to an old warehouse before it returns to normal. Kirishima seems to be talking animatedly but Bakugou’s eyes are locked onto your own, an unreadable expression on his face—maybe it’s because there is no real emotion on his face. No scowl, no anything, he looks like a blank slate. 

“Anyway, we ready for this? It’ll be over before we know it and then we can go to that ramen noodle bar I mentioned last week!” Kirishima grins, slapping a hand against his hardened stomach. 

“Yeah.” Bakugou finally speaks, breaking his eyes away from your own and down to the weapon in his hands. “The plan is Kirishima will be the shield, I’m the firepower, and you just follow us and keep quiet.” He says whilst staring you down, gone is the blank expression and that familiar frown is again creasing his skin. You just nod, and he seems happy enough with that response to turn on his heel and lead the way into the back exit of the building. 

The building is rundown, as are all the buildings in Night City outside of the high-end Corporate zones. You traverse over tipped-over vending machines, various boxes and crates that had been ripped apart and ransacked for all their worth. It’s dark and dingy, a low stream of smog flitting through the air from the old vents in the ceiling. The only way you can tell you’re going the correct way is with the help of the flickering dim fluorescent lights overhead, Kirishima and Bakugou are both deadly silent and somehow moving without even making a noise. 

The journey up the stairs is quick, without the worry of someone hearing the three of you coming, both men take the steps three at a time—leaving you to hurry after them as quickly as you can. 

Both of them freeze once they reach the door that leads to the 6th floor, Bakugou shifting a few steps back and Kirishima takes his spot wordlessly in front of the blonde. The clicking of Kirishima’s skin has you focusing on him, the way the metal plating shifts almost looks like his skin is hardening. Bakugou has his own gun raised, the heavy rifle looks like it weighs nothing in one hand when he taps the other on Kirishima’s shoulder indicating he’s ready to breach. 

It all happens in three very quick steps. 

First, Kirishima rips open the door to the point where it’s detached from the wall and tumbles down the stairwell—you have to plaster yourself to the wall to avoid being squashed. 

Second, breaching. Bakugou has both his hands back on his rifle, his eyes illuminating the chrome strips on his face whilst Kirishima steps forward with purpose. 

Third, gunfire. It happens in five quick taps of the rifle's trigger, Bakugou hardly shifting from the recoil as he swivels just his upper half whilst hunching his shoulders slightly to ensure each and every single one of his shots is a direct headshot. The sound of bodies slumping on the floor is your cue to finally enter the room, and a part of you wishes you hadn’t.

The room smells horrific, a stench you for some reason recognise as death. But it wasn’t coming from the fresh bodies, no, it was deeper in the large room. The translucent sheets of plastic that hang from the ceiling obscure most of the room, with multiple splatters of blood staining the material. Bakugou lowers his weapon slowly, Kirishima finally parting ways to do his own investigation of the place. 

“Think we got him?” Kirishima asks, using his foot to roll over one of the men Bakugou took out before grimacing at the clean shot between the eyes. Bakugou was a beast with the gun, there’s a reason why he was so sought out by Fixers other than Aizawa. 

“Dunno, I didn’t get a clear look at their faces.” Bakugou comments from the other side of the room, squatting down to roll a guy over to inspect his face. 

Both men are too occupied with the gig to notice that you’re traversing through the middle of the room, pushing past the thin sheets of plastic to grow closer to the source of the blueish neon lights. With each step, the smell grows stronger, a rotting kind of stench mixed with what smells like fried electronics. A shiver rolls down your spine, a warning to stop yourself from pushing past the final sheet of plastic. Your fingers curl against the material, crinkling it and still, both men are blissfully unaware of what you’re about to unveil—

An empty ice bath. 

Your eyebrows furrowed together, multiple thick wires and cords were all scattered around the bath yet there was no one connected to those wires. You take a hesitant step forward, the smell is still so strong—something isn’t right. The ice bath looked fresh, except for the blood staining on either side of the white porcelain, following the streaks upwards until you see a blinking screen displaying vitals.

Ayaka Ichida. Age: 26 Occupation: Arasaka Executive ECG: N/A Blood Pressure: N/A

“Arasaka?” You murmur to yourself, fingers ghosting underneath the word. Why did that name send a painful twinge through your head? Perhaps it was just the notoriety of the corporation. Arasaka were rumoured to be funding the Tyger Claws way back in 2020 but it’s been nearly sixty years since then—

Your eyes lose focus the longer you stare at the screen, no longer looking at the words but rather the reflection of something moving behind you. It’s neither Bakugou nor Kirishima, you would’ve heard them approaching. This is a woman, her skin completely exposed, and dripping wet. Shit. 

Her arm raises, the revolver sitting in her hand looks weighty and it’s definitely fully loaded when you catch the barrel of it. You spin on your heel, a hand stretched out ready to yell at Bakugou to move but it’s like you hit an invisible wall. Everything feels fuzzy in your brain, a wave of electricity passing through your body and shooting up and down your spine. 

You must’ve shouted something because you can see Kirishima raise his head in worry, Bakugou clambering to his feet but it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. The barrel spins, the trigger clicks and the flash of the gun is bright in your eyes. 

You don’t quite realise you’ve moved until it’s too late, the fuzziness in each of your limbs is all-consuming. It’s as if you’ve been dunked in ice water and your limbs are slowly regaining their warmth—it’s painful. You blink, and suddenly your face is in Bakugou's; his eyes are wide and mouth agape as if he’s at a loss for words. Your entire right arm aches, but your spine hurts something fierce.

Not quite understanding how you had moved from one side of the room to the other, you glance over your shoulder to see the body—it’s more of just a pair of legs at this point, blood sprayed up along the walls and to the ceiling; bits and pieces dripping and dropping with a sickening wet thud. Did you do that?

The ache in your arm brings your eyes back to it, and it’s no surprise to see that the entirety of your arm was replaced with the rifle you had pulled out not too long ago at the Ripperdocs. It doesn’t look like you damaged your arm, the skin easily shifting back into place whilst you turn back to look at Bakugou. There’s a spray of blood on his face too, the blonde of his hair tainted by a dark shade of crimson that almost looked black. Bakugou is looking at you with what you might assume is worry, or some level of it anyway as he still seems to be frowning.

You open your mouth to speak, your throat tightening until you sputter out a thick vicious black liquid. Immediately your hand comes up to your mouth, touching your lips to see the synthetic blood leaking from your lips in thick rivers. “Wha…” you try to speak. Taking a step back from Bakugou, it feels like you’ve been hit by a train, your fingers go to press against the sore spot on your back but instead, you meet—nothing.

Your fingers pass through where your side should’ve been. You can feel the sticky synthetic blood coat your fingers as it continues to pour from your body, you can even feel the outline of the frayed edges of the artificial muscles you didn’t know you had.

“Shit!” There’s a set of hands on your shoulders, your entire world tilting backwards suddenly. “Hold the fuck on!” A voice calls from somewhere, yet you can’t see where it’s coming from. Your senses shut down one by one until you’re left floating in an endless amount of space. 

It’s dark here. 

Cold.

The vastness of the space around you expands over the horizon, and it feels like something is pricking into your skin. It hurts, everything hurts here. It’s too loud, yet it’s completely silent. Glancing down at your hands, your stomach drops and swoops in anxiety at the sight—you’re not made of human matter, but rather data. Pixels, bunched together to form a non-corporeal form of yourself. You’d heard rumours of this before.

Cyberspace. 

It’s an odd feeling, to be existing but also not at the same time. The Net was such a vast expanse of data and network that almost anyone in the world could access but not everyone could take a step into cyberspace in the third dimension. It was jarring without a doubt but the unlimited knowledge one could access whilst inside of it? That’s why there were so many Netrunners, people dedicated to diving into the Net and hacking whatever data they needed. 

But this place you were currently in didn’t feel like you were getting an endless stream of data, it was as if you had been cut off. Everything around you is freezing cold, with not a single thread of data to grab onto to understand just where you are. 

“Hi?” someone says from your side, your head turned sharply to see someone with both lilac hair and eyes, they had a tired expression on their face but even the surprise on their face was easy to spot. 

They hadn’t expected to be put into the Net alongside you. Both of their hands moved up to show they had no weapons, not that an experienced Netrunner would need weapons inside of a place like this. 

“Listen, I was told to try and come pull you out. You’ve been in here for two weeks and—”

“Two?” How has it been that long? You had only just woken up, it felt like you had just been in the gunfight and protected both Bakugou and Kirishima; even potentially giving your life up for the blonde. “I–I don’t understand, how has it been that long? Who even are you?” 

“My name’s Shinsou. You need to listen to me very carefully if you want me to get you out of here, okay?” He takes a step closer, stretching out a hand in an attempt to touch you—

There’s a pounding on your head, a throbbing pain that spreads behind your eyes and down to the base of your skull. Accompanying the throb is a low hum, more of a thrumming kind of noise that beckons you to turn around. Slowly you do, eyes glancing up from your hands to meet a set of dull blurred verdant eyes. Though these eyes do not seem familiar, they seem deadly, calculating. They glare at you through the opaque screen you hadn’t noticed, you can just about make out their body on the other side.

They have a single hand pressed against the screen, and the other curled into a fist that’s repeatedly beating against the screen. Each time it hits you can feel the pressure on your brain, was this your own consciousness? Who was this person? You move to take a step back but their punches only grow more frantic, more aggressive. It’s getting louder and louder, and the pressure on your brain is unbearable. Why can’t you wake up? The throbbing grows more intense until there’s a shooting pain that brings you down to your knees, curling your fingers into the ground. 

You can’t hear the voice of the man named Shinsou anymore, you’re not even sure if he’s still there. All you can focus on is the throbbing pain, the way it chokes you and holds you in place. Demanding your attention.

“Found you.” A static-filled voice speaks from the darkness, and you look up to see the crack in the screen with a much clearer view of almost black-green hair. It sounds like he might be laughing, it sounds almost manic before he calls out a name, a name you can’t ignore—your name. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the world around you started to melt away until you were left in complete darkness once again, though this darkness felt somehow different. You could feel something beneath you, smooth and metallic, familiar.

The second time you awake in the Ripperdocs office isn’t quite as jarring as the first, the lights are dimmed and there are no arguing voices. It’s easy to open your eyes, staring up at the overhead lights that have been turned off. The room is silent, the only distant noise is the street just on the other side of the door. 

Slowly you rise from the table you had been laid out on, you didn’t need to look around to know you were alone this time. Has it really been two weeks since—you gasp, fingers touching the side where you had been hit but instead you meet the warm flesh of your body? Looking down to confirm that you weren’t imagining it, it looked like you hadn’t even been hit. No scars. Nothing.

There’s a laugh nearby, drawing your attention to the set of double doors you had never set foot through before. You slide from the cold table, your bare feet gently slapping on the cold tile floor. Taking a step forward your body falters, swaying to the side on uneasy legs, the table of surgical instruments clatters when you bump a hip against it and you freeze to see if anyone would be alerted to your presence. 

No one comes bursting through the door.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take another step forward. This time you were careful of where you placed your feet, and with each slow yet steady step you finally regain control over your legs. Soon enough you’re standing in front of the double doors, the voices on the other side muffled but they don’t sound familiar in the slightest. Were you even back with Bakugou and Kirishima? Had you been sold off as Bakugou had wanted? Fear danced up and down your spine, you’d have to fight your way out of here if that was the case. 

Steadying your heart, you raised your hand carefully to the door, ready to burst through.

Three… Two… One.

You slam the door open, throwing your body through the now open space and your arm lifts as if on autopilot to readjust the metal plating to reveal the rifle buried deep into your very bones. With a quick scan of the room, you register you’re inside what looks like a common room of some sorts. There was a sofa, a pool table, a kitchen on the east side of the room and a gigantic TV that was broadcasting something. 

There’s movement, a heat signature, and your arm automatically moves to point at the two men who are on the sofa. The yellow-haired one is the first to scream, then the one with black hair who scrambles off of the sofa to try and seek safety. 

“W-Wait!” The black-haired one yells, throwing his hands up, “Don’t shoot! We’re not the enemy!” 

Another door on the other side of the room beside the kitchen bursts open, there’s a scrambling of feet and clambering to all get in the room first. But Bakugou is the first in, his hand firm around the gun in hand as he raises it ready to shoot until he realises he has the barrel of his gun pointed at you. If you weren’t staring at him you might’ve missed the way his shoulders sag in relief. Kirishima is next to come in, eyes darting from both men who were sprawled amongst the mess of chips and used beer cans that had been dashed across the room in their attempt to flee immediate death. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” A voice that’s now familiar to you calls your name, the man with lilac hair sidesteps around the two hulking figures. There’s a lazy smile on his face, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Both Kirishima and Bakugou parrot the name Shinsou had given you, eyes drifting from Shinsou and to you, connecting the name to the face they’ve been living with for a while now. 

“Yep, that’s the name of our friend here.” Shinsou walks into the room as if there wasn’t just a standoff moments ago, dropping into an unoccupied seat. “We should probably tell you everything that happened whilst you were ‘out’.” He makes quotation marks around the word, both of you missing the way Bakugou has his eyes locked onto you—or more importantly, your side. Shinsou gestures for you to sit down, and you make your way around the couch slowly whilst the two men you had scared scamper to sit elsewhere. 

“I’ll be blunt with you. You’ve been out for nearly three weeks in total. We would’ve tried to pull you out faster but… you have some very impressive chrome. It took me two weeks to break your defences and even then you rejected me in a heartbeat.” 

Your eyes break away from Shinsou as he explains your ‘absence’ to watch Bakugou as he tentatively perches on the arm of the couch right next to you, both of his arms crossed over his chest. But the things Shinsou is saying make no sense, you hadn’t pushed him out, it was—you scrunch your eyebrows together, the headache still ever present in the back of your mind the harder you think. 

The silence stretches out in the room, just the sound of the TV droning on about Militech moving towards renewing partnerships with Lazarus. 

Shinsou clears his throat, demanding your attention once again. “Your wounds actually healed by themselves. You have synthetic muscles but they’re something else. No one has ever seen something like that, even Uraraka said it’s not something Rippers can get their hands on.” 

“Yeah… you weren’t actually breathing by the time we got you back here… I—We thought you were going to die.” Kirishima supplies from his position behind the couch, both of his hands clamped on the back of it and you can see the worry settled on his face when you look up at him. So you were dead for a portion of time, had all your chrome and cyberware saved your life? If what Shinsou said is true about your muscles repairing themselves then the time locked into your consciousness made sense.

Shinsou seems to notice the shift in the air first, clearing his throat before he stands up. He gives a stern look towards both Kaminari and Sero who are blatantly staring at you as if you were some anomaly. “We should go.” 

“But—” the one with the yellow hair and black streak starts, eyes darting back to you with a question that was probably best unasked.

“Nope. Get the fuck up, we’re leaving.” Shinsou commands, already partway out of the door and he knows Sero and Kaminari will follow as he doesn’t bother looking back. 

And soon enough, it is just you, Kirishima and Bakugou who looks like he’s about to shit himself with how tense he is next to you. It’s awkward, to say the least. You’re not quite sure what you should say, sorry for the trouble? Sorry for not dying? You’re sure that last one would apply to Bakugou, he had wanted you gone. 

“Why?” 

It’s Bakugou who breaks the silence, his head held now between his hands as he stares intently down at his shoes; knee bouncing, he’s anxious. You glance at Kirishima but the redhead just shrugs, urging you to look back at Bakugou. “Why what?”

“Why the fuck did you take the hit, huh?” His eyes meet yours, and you can’t miss the white of his eyes partially red, he was on the verge of tears. “Why the fuck would you do that when I mean nothing to you? It makes no fucking sense, no one just jumps in front of a bullet for someone. I wouldn’t have fuckin’ done it for yo–” He stops himself short, chewing on the words on his tongue that are better left unsaid. But the words still sting the same regardless of how true it is: Bakugou would not have taken a bullet for you, he would not have risked his life for you. Why did you care so much?

“I don’t know.” But it’s not the answer Bakugou is searching for, a frown is on his face but it’s not quite the same as the usual one you often saw him wearing. This one looked pained and confused. He diverts his gaze quickly, refusing to look at you once again before running a hand through his hair. “I guess I felt like I owed you for saving my life.” 

Bakugou only gives you one last glare before he’s up from his spot and marching back out of the room, leaving an icy chill in his wake that makes Kirishima sigh. 

“He means to say thank you, it’s… been a lot for him. We really did think you’d die on us back there, and I think Bakugou didn’t want another death on his conscience that wasn’t done by his own hand.”

Kirishima stands to his full height when you do, both his hands buried into the pockets of his jacket. “Anyway, let’s just go back home, yeah? You probably want to shower.” 

“Tellin’ me I smell, Kirishima? You don’t smell of roses yourself big guy.” You grin when he smiles at you, the banter between the two of you is easy. His shoulders sag with relief before he’s strutting out of the room before you. 

“Nah, not roses. Just pure manliness.” 

“Manliness smells like a Maelstrom cesspit?” Kirishima whirls on you with his mouth agape, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

The city opens up to both of you when you step out of the doors, the difference this time being it’s the middle of the day and the streets are bustling with people going to and fro with their plans for the day. You take a deep breath in, Kirishima still rattling on just next to you about how Maelstrom actually doesn’t smell that bad. You break into an easy smile, a genuine laugh leaving your mouth for the first time in a long time. 

A tingle runs up and down your spine, the shard slot on your neck buzzing as if someone was tugging on it, you look in the opposite direction of Kirishima to see if perhaps there was a nearby jammer or Netrunner who tripped on your own network.

But instead, you’re faced with something that makes it feel like you’ve been submerged beneath icy waters, your bones rigid and muscles tightened. 

Standing idle amongst the moving crowd is a large man, with broad shoulders but that isn’t what makes him stick out like a sore thumb. It’s not the corporate suit he’s wearing, but rather it’s the mop of green hair on his head accompanied by emerald eyes that are wide with mirth when you meet his gaze over the crowd. You can see his lips move, but it's like his voice is deep in the back of your brain.

‘Soon.’

Kirishima calls your name from your side, drawing your attention back to him for a split second before you glance back towards the crowd. The man was gone. “All good? Do you need more blockers?”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, blockers? Oh. Meds that rippers always pumped you full with whenever you had any amount of cyberware. When was the last time you had taken some anyway? “No, uh, I’m fine, thank you. Think I just need a real sleep.” 

“You just woke up from like a month-long nap, you’re telling me you’re still tired?” He grins down at you, guiding you back down the familiar street. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

The door to the apartment slides open with a hiss, revealing the dim lights of the amber overhead lights. Bakugou was home. Kirishima steps in first, shedding the thick jacket he had on to toss it onto one of the hooks. You followed after him easily enough, it hadn’t felt like so much time had passed but looking around the apartment you could see it. 

Things had been moved, the plant on the window ledge had blossomed and grown beautiful red leaves. Stepping further into the apartment, you watch Kirishima disappear behind a black glass door that slides open for a split second to reveal Bakugou who was hunched over what looked like one of his rifles before the door slid shut. 

You had been forbidden to enter the armoury, it was for Bakugou and Kirishima only. Bakugou had come with that rule, you couldn’t blame him but it wasn’t as if you needed their weapons. The thought of the gun embedded in your arm makes it ache, a tingling sensation that numbs your fingertips momentarily. Sitting down on the couch, you let out a sigh of relief when your muscles finally decompress and relax. 

Despite your body relaxing your mind was still running far too fast, too many thoughts bouncing back and forth—you suppose it’s from the fact you were connected to the Net with no blockers, all that information could fry someone's brain and you’re just glad it hadn’t happened to you. 

The peace and quiet doesn’t last long however, soon enough the entrance door opens with a whoosh and you turn in time to see a multitude of people walk in. You recognise two by name; Aizawa and Shinsou. You recognise both men with yellow hair and black hair, but there’s a woman with them that you haven’t met before with short dark purple hair. 

“What the fuck are you all doin’ in my fucking house?” Bakugou growls from near the armoury, arms crossing over his chest.

“You didn’t think we’d let you walk away with the coolest new member of the gang, right?” The one with yellow hair flops into the seat next to you, long gone is the fear he had shown just earlier that day. 

He grins at you when you stare at him, “Denki Kaminari, but you can call me whatever you want.” Kaminari offers with an easy smile, earning him a snort from the black-haired man who smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ignore him. Name’s Sero, it’s nice to meet you without a gun pointed in my face.” You shake his hand when he offers it to you, still wordless at how they’re effortlessly welcoming you into their gang. 

“Don’t fucking ignore me!” Bakugou finally yells, but no one flinches at the volume of his voice. “What the fuck are you all doing in my house?!” 

“New job.” Aizawa supplies, and immediately the room plummets into silence. “I know it’s only been hours since you woke up, but we really could use your help on this next one.” 

Bakugou moves to open his mouth, but Shinsou jumps in. “You’re the only one here who can disappear from someone's optical enhancements. Do you know how rare that is? We wouldn’t be asking you to do this if we didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off without any problems.” 

Aizawa continues, “You won’t be doing it alone of course. The whole crew will be going, but you will be the key player in this job, you’ll have to be the one to go in first.”

“When?” is the first thing you ask, and all eyes shift to you. 

“In three days. Ideally, we would’ve done it sooner but I figured you might want to rest first. From what I hear, you had quite the trip on the Net.” 

Aizawa notices the way your eyebrows furrow, “Shinsou was in there with you, but it was Jirou–” He points over his shoulder at the girl, who raises a hand for a moment. “–who broke through your defences. Apparently, there was some resistance from an outside source. Got anyone who'd be interested in protecting the data in your head?” 

You shake your head, the only outside source may have been the man with green hair but even then you weren’t sure if he was real or not. You hadn’t been on blockers, you had been using your chrome carelessly. It could just be exhaustion. 

Aizawa just nods his head, turning his attention to both Kirishima and Bakugou before gesturing with his head for them to come to talk to him privately. Kaminari and Sero both dive instantly at the chance to talk to you, gushing over the cyberware you were sporting. Apparently, they had never met someone who lived to tell the tale after having so much changed.

Aizawa sighs when he’s away from the group, slumping against the wall whilst Bakugou and Kirishima stand before him. Kirishima looks tense, and Bakugou is… well, Bakugou. 

“You remember the original job?” Both men nod. “The package you were ordered to retrieve is Arasaka’s countermeasure to the new power Militech has come into. Jirou had a look at it and apparently, it’s some sort of advanced AI that can short-circuit everyone in its vicinity and even cause people to spiral into Cyberpsychosis.” 

“What the fuck?” Kirishima murmurs, keeping his voice down so as to not alert the others.

“What’ve you done with it?” Bakugou asks, not missing the wince on Aizawa’s face.

“Handed it back to them.” Bakugou’s frown deepens, lip curling to reveal gums and canines but Aizawa jumps back in. “I didn’t have a choice, Bakugou. It was tracked, after you left with the girl they sent some jacked-up chrome head to come and pick it up.”

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the roots. This was bad. Arasaka were pieces of shit when it came to cyberware and if they were going to hit Militech with this then another corporate war would definitely be on the cards. “Shit, fuck. You sure it was an Arasaka guy that came to pick it up, not someone working for D—?” 

“No, if I picked up on his chip, I would’ve put a bullet between his eyes myself.” 

“Not if I do it first.” Bakugou snarls, earning a nod of approval from Kirishima. “Fucker already ruined our lives enough, we don't need him to get his hands on something that could kill us all.”

“You think they know about her?” Kirishima prompts after a beat of silence, all three men turn their attention to watch you on the couch. You were still static, Kaminari arguing with Sero about something whilst Jirou and Shinsou teased Kaminari about whatever it was. You looked out of place but at the same time, it felt as if you were always meant to be amongst the crew. You smiled easily, even laughing along with the group. 

“I don’t doubt it. Jirou said the outside source that was blocking her from hacking into the system was military grade. She has something important to someone very wealthy. With this next job, stick close to her. If Arasaka makes a move, they’ll be trying to take her out first. If Militech makes a move…” 

Aizawa shares a look with Bakugou before the blonde nods in understanding. “Good. Good luck on this next one, you’re going to need it when working with those idiots.”

Both men watch Aizawa leave before joining the rest of the gang on the couch, Bakugou sinks into a spot opposite of you and Kirishima slumps himself not too far from everyone, his legs spreading as he fully reclines into the seat. All attention is still on you, and Bakugou can’t help but keep his eyes locked on you. 

“We should celebrate!” Kaminari grins, practically bouncing in his seat at the prospect. 

“Celebrate what?” Kirishima is the one brave enough to take on Kaminari, effortlessly shifting the attention away from you momentarily.

“The newest member, obviously! I think we should show her a good time.” There’s a series of groans, a squawk of indignation from Kaminari whilst Sero berates him for always making everything an innuendo. Yet Bakugou can’t find it within himself to fight the decision, his eyes watch the way your eyebrows lift in interest before a smile brightens your features.

Maybe he’ll go along with it, just this one.

...

Part of him wishes he had fought Kaminari on some part of it. It was no surprise that the bar hopping eventually led them to visit Jig-Jig Street. It wasn’t the nicest place to be, it was the rundown part of Japantown that people often went to when they were desperate enough to get their dick wet. 

Jig-Jig Street was the red light district of Night City, where you could ‘buy love’ by the hour or even get in contact with dealers who would sell you the most exotic of drugs or enhancements that would cost you a pretty penny. It was dangerous too, something that Bakugou often argued about whenever the others tried to drag him here. Too many times he had come home with a nasty black eye or even in the back of a police car from the fights that broke out here.

The crude flashing neon signs had Bakugou hunching in on himself, practically snarling at Denki who dared to poke fun at the gigantic blonde. Thankfully, it’s Kirishima who once again saves the day by shooing Kaminari away with the rest of the gang before he draws Bakugou in by his shoulder. 

Bakugou just grunts, crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest before his eyes drift towards the redhead who’s now staring down at him. 

“What?” Bakugou barks, modified canines adding to the visage of him being a feral dog. 

Kirishima just laughs, “Loosen up man, let Denks have his fun. I have a feeling this next job is going to be a hefty one.” 

Bakugou shakes his head, squaring his jaw whilst he mulls over Kirishima’s words. He supposes Kirishima isn’t exactly wrong; this next job feels like there’s a heavy weight resting on them. An expectation of something; something that Bakugou hasn’t quite figured out yet. 

His eyes drift over towards you, embedded right in the middle of their little group. You still were a little bit stiff, eyes blinking owlishly whenever Kaminari came on a little too strong—but the alcohol had helped you loosen him, he thinks, you seem to smile a lot more now. 

“Whatever, get the fuck off me.” Bakugou snips, shoving Kirishima’s hand off of him and Kirishima knows not to take it to heart. Instead, he steps aside, watching his oldest friend stalk away into the crowd to god knows where. 

Bakugou wades through the crowds, dodging the half-naked bodies and the people high out of their minds who attempt to grab at him for his attention. He hated this part of town, it was the worst part of Night City – besides the gang wars and other shit the corpos got up to.

But this was a display of the depravity of the city, a show of just how long people would sink to feel something in this shithole of a city. 

Finally, Bakugou breaks out of the crowd into the open street. It was empty, given that it was nearing three in the morning. He lifts his head to stare at the sky, the overcast clouds enough to make him grumpier. The rain always fucked with his chrome, the cold chill that came with it would send it haywire. 

Glancing back, he can’t see the group he came with anymore and something in him itches to find you and make sure you didn’t get into any trouble that naturally comes with both Sero and Kaminari. 

“Running away?” A voice comes from his side, and it takes the years of experience that comes with being a hired gun to not jump out of his skin. His head snaps down, and a shiver rolls down his spine when he meets your gaze. 

“Yeah,” he admits, surprisingly, “Can’t fuckin’ stand this place. And you should split when you can too, you’ll end up getting roped into a threesome or some shit.”

That makes you purse your lips in an attempt to smother laughter before the corner of your lips threatens to break into a smile, there’s an easy air around you. You seem more relaxed, most definitely because of the drinks you had been throwing back when Kirishima challenged you. 

“Nah, Kirishima let me leave.” Bakugou arches an eyebrow at that, Kirishima had known you were leaving too? That motherfucker. He knew you’d come following after him, like a moth to a flame. “Figured it’d be safer to walk home with you than try and navigate my way out of here.”

That has Bakugou nodding in agreement, the fuzziness of tonight's drinks softens his need to put his guard up around you. “C’mon, it’s about to piss down and I’m not getting caught in it.”

He’s already walking away, and it doesn’t take long for you to match his stride. Your own hands are buried in the pockets of the orange jacket Kirishima had given you all that time ago – did you know it was his? He bought it with one of his first paychecks, it was in one of his favourite shades of orange but somehow it looked much better on you. 

His eyes drift away from the jacket you’re wearing and up to your face, you’re eyeing the signs as you walk by. They’re a range of ads for braindances that plunge you into a full-blown porno and ads for physical enhancements for stamina. It’s no surprise that everything in this part of town was about sex, Japantown practically ran off of it. 

But his eyes catch on your bottom lip, how you worry it over with your teeth and squint a little like you’re not really reading everything that goes by. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” 

“Huh?” You look up at him finally, and it makes Bakugou’s chest flutter with something unknown. It takes everything in him to push it down, chalking it to the previous train of thought about advertisements. 

“What you worrying about? Yer gonna chew through your fuckin’ lip if you keep overthinking whatever it is.” 

The way your eyebrows draw together and your face nearly crumples makes him want to backtrack, but instead you wipe your face of whatever emotion you had just felt. 

“It’s hard to explain. More of a feeling than anything.” 

Something Bakugou isn’t good with, he’s not one to talk about his feelings or whatever the fuck is plaguing his mind. “Just spit it out.”

You follow him up the steps to the large apartment building, and yet you remain silent as you try to mull over the words you want to say. Bakugou expects you to just ignore his request, and he doesn’t blame you. He’d never talk about his feelings even if someone held a gun to his head.

Once inside the apartment, he watches as you sidestep around him to go and stand before the large window. Pressing a button to let the metal shutters roll upwards in quick succession until the district of Japantown is exposed to you. It’s a sea of neon lights, people ebbing and flowing like water as they move around each other without ever looking away from the devices in their hands or implanted in their minds.

“Can I show you?” You speak finally, once he shucks off his jacket and flings it onto the back of the sofa. He eyes you for a moment, show him? Show him what, your feelings? His nose crinkles in thought, but he finds himself relenting. The liquid courage he drank earlier makes itself known when he relaxes on the sofa. 

“Sure,” and you’re turning to look at him as if you expected him to shout at you or worse. But you don’t comment about it, scared to lose your chance so you move over to him. Settling into the seat next to him he can’t help but notice you don’t budge him at all, your own weight nothing compared to his own — had you always been this tiny? 

“You gonna kiss me or some shit?” He blurts when you turn to face him, your knee pressed into his thigh and he tries to not think about the bareness of your legs. You snort, however, shaking your head.

“No, nothing like that.” And you’re reaching for him despite that, his body grows rigid beneath your touch. Your fingers are gentle as they stroke along the smoothness of his neck before they card up through the short hairs of his undercut at the nape of his neck. You’re so close he can see the intricate thin strips of metal that help with your enhanced eyesight. 

He doesn’t find himself moving away, but rather leaning into the gentleness of the touch. 

“Hold still,” is all you supply before he feels something slip against the back of his neck, the plating shifting and moving until his body involuntarily jolts. Everything in his body yells at him to move, to stop you from doing whatever the fuck you’re doing but it’s too late. The connection is made and he’s plummeted into darkness.

There’s a blinding light and he blinks it away, only to find himself submerged in what must be the depths of your consciousness. It’s similar to what he’d seen in his short dips into cyberspace when the time called for it, but this is different. He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, screens and flicking images dash around him. 

Memories, he realises. Your memories from the moment you woke up and up until the very moment you sat down with him, but it’s not the memories you’re showing. Rather it’s the emotions connected to them, it’s bombarding his senses. He feels the tug at his heart, the fear that races up his spine when you first woke up in an unknown place and then the blissfulness you had felt when he took a bullet for him.

How could you feel at peace when you were going to die? It was too much for him to wrap his mind around, and quickly the emotion was changing. There was a sadness that weighed down on his body this time like his body was being pulled into icy waters when he heard the words he spat at you when you first woke up. 

You felt sad? Bakugou didn’t know, it made his heart ache something fierce. He didn’t want you to feel sad because of him – fuck, he just wanted you to know how much it bothered him for you to dive in front of him like that. He wanted you to know just how much time he spent in that shitty docs office, watching your near-lifeless body repair itself before his very eyes. 

But he couldn’t tell you that, he couldn’t tell you that Kirishima often was the one to wake him up from his slump across your lap in the mornings when he fell asleep hoping you’d just wake the fuck up and explain yourself.

Another jump in emotions, and he feels happiness – acceptance. You’re sitting among all his friends, and even with him in the picture, you feel like you found a place. Something in the memory makes his eyebrows raise, you glance at him and that feeling spikes. It feels like a thunderous amount of butterflies flutter in his stomach, rising up until they bombard his heart. 

He hadn’t even known you were looking at him like that. Yet beneath all that, he could feel the melancholy that came with your circumstance. You don’t feel like you belong, or perhaps it was the reality of your previous life's existence that weighs heavily on you. You had unresolved business, and that’s something Bakugou can relate to fully.

The next time he blinks, he feels the pressure of your forehead against his own. The slipping of the cord from his plating and how your fingers curl a little more into the longer hair further up the back of his head.

“Do you get it now?” You’re the first to break the tension, your question but a whisper above the whirring of the fan above your heads. 

And he thinks he does, that feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. You were content yet you were lost, you were happy yet you had a longing for something. You felt something towards him that was so indescribable it made his heart flutter. So he just nods, his own forehead pressing a little harder against yours to get it across that he truly does get it. 

His hand cups your jaw, thumb rolling across the fullness of your cheek before it presses into the flesh just a little. Your breath smells sweet; faintly reminding him of the drinks the both of you had earlier in the night. He doesn’t suspect you’re drunk, he definitely isn’t but that soft buzz keeps him from thinking too much. 

“It’s so confusing.” You admit, the word is just a breath against his lips and he finds himself wanting to swallow it. “I don’t want to think.”

That’s enough of a sign for him to make a move, his stomach churns with anxious excitement when he leans in. His lips finally press to yours in a tentative touch, your lips are warm and just as soft as they look. It draws him further, and further until his lips are moving against your own in a fluid movement. 

You don’t fight him when his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you into position so you can’t escape when he pries your mouth open with his tongue. The sweetness is stronger on your tongue, tangy with alcohol yet intoxicatingly enjoyable when he explores you like he might never get the chance again. 

It’s like everything explodes at that point, Bakugou grows insatiable; he needs to taste you. He needs to know you inside and out, this hunger pooling low in his stomach and burning a river of fire down to his groin. It makes him groan into the kiss when you offer a reprieve for a quick breath, he nips and bites at your bottom lip to see if he can pull any noises from you.

And he delights in it when he can, your moans are so foreign to him yet it’s a heady feeling. It has him tugging at you until you’re situated over the tops of his thighs, and in a fluid motion, he’s standing. His hands cupped under your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh that he’s never had the chance to feel before. 

It takes him no time at all to cross the space from the living room to his bedroom, the door sliding open and closed with a hiss before the automatic locks click into place. He tosses you from his grip onto the plushness of his bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning when he didn’t bother to make it. 

Bakugou looms over you like a predator, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths – you’re no better than he is, your lips are swollen and wet from his ministrations. Your heavy breathing only accentuates your breasts, drawing his attention down to them to see the rise and fall of your chest. His fingers move automatically, tucking underneath his shirt to tug it over his head. 

It’s flung off into some unknown direction, and when he looks up you’re leaning up. Your fingers skate along the sharp edges of his muscles, pressing into the places where the fat resides. Then you trace along scars that are white and some that are pink; you’re transfixed on him. It makes him preen under your gaze, and in your momentary distraction, he undoes the belt on his jeans before they’re pushed down too. 

The smile you give him makes his heart pitter-patter in his chest, you’re smiling up at him as if he’s the world to you. But the rational still-sober part of his mind insists that it’s just for the sex – he’s just a one-night stand to you and the feeling is mutual. Right? That is what Bakugou wants out of this, right? The tension in his stomach is unnerving, something akin to nausea at the idea of letting this not blossom into something more.

But he doesn’t get to ruminate on it further, your fingers drift downwards along the deep V on his hips until you’re at the top of his boxers. Automatically his fingers stroke up along your jaw, across your cheek until he’s hooking his fingers to the back of your head when you start to lean in closer. 

The feeling of your lips against the hard outline of his cock makes him jolt and melt at the same time, the rumbling moan is deep in his chest. How long had it been since he was last with someone? Fuck, he doesn’t even know but he can’t focus when the tip of your tongue slowly drags up along the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

He must jolt too harshly because you laugh a little to yourself before you take pity on him. Bakugou wants to snap at you, shut you up for even daring to laugh at him but the words die on his tongue the second he even thinks of them. Your hands are undeniably soft when you wrap your hand around his hardness. 

There’s a small crease between your eyebrows, an indication of either your concentration or perhaps your trepidation for what’s to come. 

“Lie back,” he offers instead, your eyes drifting back up to meet his and you slip free from the hand hooked on the back of your head, the loss of your softness around his length leaves a longing that lingers in the depths of his stomach. This time he takes the time to undress you, sliding you free of the dress Mina had managed to wrangle you into. 

It looked far too good on you, something he wouldn’t admit at the start of the night but his inhibitions continue to slip. “Look at you, so beautiful.” 

His fingers skim up along the now bare expanse of your hips, brushing past your panties line and mapping their way up your sides. You’re just as scarred as he is, but yours are so different from his. He can see the almost invisible lines where someone has taken a scalpel to you and modified your body. Did you even know who did it?

He swallows the lump down in his throat, forcing his attention up to your breasts once his hands brush along the sides. His thumbs roll up over your nipples beneath your bra, the pebbled skin hard enough–sensitive enough to earn him a shiver of delight. The smile that brightens up his face is nothing short of sinful, it shows the modified canines and displays all his carnal desires without him having to even utter a word.

You lift your body up when he demands it, letting him slip you free of your underwear until you’re as bare as he is. And Holy fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous. His eyes leave no part of you unseen, his gaze roaming over you until you’re practically squirming.

“Please.” You whisper, gasping when his fingers finally find a home in the width of your hips. “Stop staring and do something.” 

That has an eyebrow rising in your direction. “Oh? Someone’s demanding when she wants something. You want me to hurry up and fuck you until you’re too dumb to remember your own name?” 

“You’re too much.” You all but whine, and he imagines he’d be able to feel the heat in your cheeks if he were to lean in closer.

“You have no idea.” Bakugou grins, a sultry smile that has your hips bucking beneath his iron grip and he’s swooping down. 

Lips pressing into yours in a much more hurried fashion compared to earlier; it’s a hunger that can only serve to work someone up until the point of completion. It has his tongue rolling into your mouth, brushing against the back of your teeth and trying to hear you choke on him when he’s bearing his weight down on you.

He’s positively devouring you, and his hands work to spread your legs wide for him on either side of the thickness of his own thighs. Then his fingers make their way down between your legs, brushing against the crease between where your thighs bend. You’re whining, moaning and biting back just as hard when he dares to bite your bottom lip. 

He wants to fucking ruin you. 

Bakugou draws his head back just enough to peer down at you, the light filtering in through the half-shuttered window highlights parts of you that are otherwise shrouded in the darkness. It illuminates the harsh rise and fall in your lungs, the way your nipples are pebbled in the cool air and the slight glisten on your inner thighs.

Finally, he indulges you. His fingers press between your folds to slide against your clit before they slowly venture downwards. His middle and ring fingers circle against your entrance teasingly slow, his lips parting to breathe in your whines for more. 

His eyebrows crumple with your own when you moan at the intrusion of his thick fingers, his head is swimming with how intoxicating it is to be above you like this. To have this level of power over someone who could definitely kill him before he could blink.

The stretch is easy enough with how wet you got so quickly for him, and he groans all low and rumbling in his chest at just how tight you are. You’re so soft and velvety inside, your walls clenching rhythmically with your deep inhales.

For a moment, he just holds his fingers deep inside of you completely still. Relishing in the way you try to shift your hips beneath him despite how he’s pinning you down beneath the weight of his own body. It’s such a stark difference to the nervous wreck he’s seen you as, and so fucking better than the cold-blooded killer he knew you were deep down. 

“Fuckin’ look at you.” He whispers into the heated air between the sparse gap between you two, his eyes half-lidded as they meet your own. You’re trying your hardest to glare at him, but you can’t quite fight the euphoric feeling of him curling his fingers just a little to shut you down. 

“Who knew all it took to get you nice and compliant was to stuff you full with my fingers?” His tone is a little mean, a little condescending. The tears don’t come for you however, but he can see you slowly dropping into the headspace he wants you to be in. 

“Please,” you beg—a plea, a sweet melody that Bakugou thinks he wants to listen to for the rest of his life. But this was just a one-night stand, right? 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Just–... Move already, please.” He grins wide at the whimper at the end of your words. A small part of him wants to draw this out, make you suffer just a little but the rational voice in his mind tells him he’ll only get more out of you if he obliges. 

So he does. His fingers crook upwards, brushing against the spongy spot that no one but he could reach with the length of his fingers. The reaction is immediate, you moan so sweetly that it has his own eyes threatening to flutter and roll into the back of his head. 

You’re practically gushing around his fingers as he fucks them into you, repeatedly crooking his fingers in an attempt to see how quickly he could make you crumble beneath the palm of his hand. Your thighs tense up, squeezing around his own when you try to close your legs to stop the onslaught of his fingers. 

Bakugou noses into your cheek when you tilt your head back, your lips parted as you try to breathe in. But he doesn’t give you the chance, he pushes you further into the bed with his weight, shifting his body up just slightly so your hips are forced to bend with him – then suddenly he’s fucking his fingers into you impossibly deeper.

His lips hover just next to your temple, panting heavily against you. It’s a task and a half to stop himself from painting the inside of his boxers that he’s still yet to remove. But he’s a man on a mission, and that mission is to make you cum on his fingers.

He doesn’t stop when he feels your hand clamp down around his forearm, the strength there is enough to stop a moving truck—except you’re distracted, lost in the pleasure that races up and down your spine until it settles in the back of your mind. You’re too lost in your own head to be embarrassed about the sloppy sounds between your thighs, his fingers forcing more and more juices from you until he’s certain his bed will be soaked through.

As much as Bakugou wants to watch your pussy take his fingers so well, he can’t move his gaze away from your face. You look like something they used to paint in cathedrals, an angel. Your head is thrown back into his pillows, eyes scrunched closed and mouth open to let your moans spill free. The light from outside bathes you in neon colours, catching on the metallic strips of your chrome. 

Even if it is just a one-night stand, Bakugou doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the image of you in the throes of pleasure. 

Especially not when you finally do reach your climax for him. Your hand at his wrist tightens immediately, your thighs lock up with a tension that would worry him if he wasn’t aware of the intricate materials that you were composed of. Your chest stutters, and your mouth opens wider until he’s gifted with the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard; a series of moans that grow breathier with each pass of his fingers. 

“‘S too much.” You protest weakly, the hand that was wrapped around his wrist pushes in an attempt to free your swollen pussy from his long fingers. But he doesn’t pull out yet, only slowing down the roll of his wrist until finally he pulls free. Your entire body relaxes finally, muscles growing lax from where they’re wrapped around his waist. 

“It only takes one time and you’re done?” Bakugou questions with a teasing arch of his eyebrow, watching in amusement when your head rolls slightly to glare at him. It’s a hardly-there glare but you still give it to him regardless, it makes him grin down at you. “Nah, you’re not done.”

You’re like putty in his hands with how easily he manoeuvres your body around, tucking both of your legs together before twisting your lower half to the side. A large arm keeps your legs held up and off to the side, whilst his unoccupied hand strokes along the rigid length of his cock. It aches, pearled with pre-cum from just watching you cream all over his hand.

He levels the tip of his drooling cock to your entrance, easily finding the hole that was previously spread so wide around just two of his fingers. The warmth is intoxicating, flooding his senses and clouding his mind. He doesn’t even notice you moving just slightly to slide a hand down over your hip to feel the length of his cock disappearing deeper and deeper inside of you.

The groan Bakugou lets out once his hips fall flush against your own is sinful enough to have you clenching around him, turning that beautiful groan into a hiss through clenched teeth. He snaps his gaze up to you, only to see your own gaze heedy with lust and half-lidded. He can feel every single inch of your velveteen walls, can feel the way you’re still panting and clenching around his cock. 

He thinks he could die here, quite happily might he add.

A large hand comes down to your ass, shifting the flesh just enough so he can flit his eyes downwards and see the sticky mess that’s already tacking his pubic hair. That same hand comes back down again to level your ass with a firm spank, and it has you squeezing around him tight enough to stop him from rolling his hips back to start fucking you.

It’s enough to make him forget he’s fucking you raw.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ hard. You like it that much, hm?” Bakugou goads with a bite to his bottom lip when he feels you pulse at the tone he takes with you. With enough willpower, he rolls his hips backwards just enough to pull himself out halfway before fucking his cock back into you. “Tell me how much you like it.” 

His stomach tenses when you brush the pads of your fingers against the tensed muscles there, his eyes drift away from where he was connected to you, along your arm until he finds your face. You’re looking him in the eye, eyelids heavy and lips parted when you moan low at the feeling of him rolling his hips smoothly once again. 

“Say it,” Bakugou bares his teeth at you, the modified fangs in his mouth gleaming with the passing lights through the window.

“Bak—” 

He moves before he can even think, faster than you can react. His hand engulfs the entirety of your lower face, thick fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks until he can feel the solid metal that was buried in your very muscles. Your eyes are wide, more alert but you don’t fight him surprisingly. Bakugou hunches his body over your own until his forehead connects with yours, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

The angle he’s at now has your eyebrows crumpling together, mouth opening in a wordless moan—he’s so fucking deep that he’s pretty certain he’s pressed right against your cervix.

“No, use my fuckin’ name.” He growls in your face, hissing his words through clenched teeth. You’re clenching around him so tightly that his head feels like it’s filled with nanites, infiltrating his brain until all he can think about is you, you, you.

A harsh thrust of his hips has you gasping, he can see you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back and eyelashes flutter closed to bask fully in the pleasure. But you keep his gaze, sturdy and unyielding. 

“Katsuki.”

He’s never heard his given name on your tongue before, so breathy and sweet that it has his pace faltering for a split second. His name sounded perfect when you said it like that, as if your very vocal cords were crafted just to moan his name like that—like an angel. Bakugou gives in to the urge to moan in return, jaw falling slack. 

Your hand is delicate around his wrist, guiding him to free you from the grip he still had on your jaw to slide it downwards until he finds your throat. His fingers latch around it naturally, digging in just enough to have you gasping against his open and waiting mouth but not enough to hurt you. He can see that you enjoy it—can feel it in the way your pussy drools for him more.

The second his hand locks around your throat, everything empties from his mind. His hips move as if they were designed to fuck you, to feel your skin slap against his and to have your entire body jump with each harsh rut. Your moans vibrate against his palm, a shiver working its way down his spine whenever your moans grow louder, more desperate when he shifts his weight just enough to bully the tip of his cock against your cervix.

The hand around his wrist tightens, the tips of your nails digging into his flesh. It makes him hiss in pain, gritting his teeth to fuck you harder. His entire body glistens with sweat, dripping down along his hairline where strands of his ash blonde hair stick to his dewy skin. It pools in the hollow of his throat and builds along his biceps, which flex and bulge with the effort of keeping up his position hunched over you. 

“G’nna—” You gasp, his hand instinctively closing around your throat before relaxing. “‘M g’nna cum.”

And fuck, if he thought you whispering his given name was hot then he’s not sure where that ranks. He’s not sure why he’s never considered just how hot it would be for you to admit you were close to orgasm, to inform him that he’s doing such a good job at fucking you that you’re about to cum.

“Yeah?” He huffs in the effort of his pace, suddenly rearing back and releasing your throat in favour of shifting your position. He throws your legs over his shoulders, large hands grasping at your hips to pull you to the edge of the bed properly. “Then cum.”

With his hands lower down on your body, Bakugou’s able to free one hand from grasping at the meat of your thigh to let his thumb roll over your clit with enough pressure to have your knees turning inwards and back arching off of the bed. The moan that comes you from is angelic, a sound that has his stomach twisting in anticipation and the need to cum—but not yet, he’s going to fuck you as much as he can before he reaches his end.

He can feel you clamping down on him, squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of him to the point where his hips are forced to take shallow thrusts. But his hand doesn’t give up on your clit; he switches to his fingers to pinch and cruelly swipe at your swollen clit. Your toes curl against the back of his head, and Bakugou finds himself leaning into the feeling—needing to feel every single part of you whilst your pleasure crests.

And when you do cum, Bakugou can’t help but groan alongside you. 

“Fuuu—... That’s it, good girl.” His tone is a little breathy, his chest rising and falling with the quick breaths he has to take to keep up the pace to fuck you through your orgasm and beyond that. His hand drops away from between your thighs, sliding up to grab at your waist before moving you up along the bed whilst situating himself on top.

He tugs your legs down from his shoulders, wrapping them tightly around his waist—you move easily for him, so pliant and willing to do anything for him after he made you cum on his cock. Your thighs mould easily around the thinner part of his waist, your ankles locking naturally. 

His cock remains buried deep inside of you, still savouring the aftershock waves of pleasure that have your walls throbbing around him. Bakugou leans down into your space, with one elbow to the side of your head whilst the other latches itself onto the headboard. You meet his gaze, finally gaining back some clarity. 

“Back with me?” He grins, sharp teeth on display when he looks down at you. He wonders if you find him intimidating like this, you’ve shown you were somewhat afraid of him in the past—never stepping on his toes, or overstepping when he ordered you to stay the fuck out of his way. Part of him doesn’t want you to be afraid of him anymore, he wants to make you smile more, laugh more, moan more—

A hand caresses itself along his cheek, drawing him out of his lust-ridden mind until he finds your eyes. Your thumb drags itself along the apple of his cheek, across the corner of his lips until you press your thumb against his lips. He’s not sure what’s enthralled him exactly, maybe it’s just the look in your eye—because you’re not looking up at him like you’re afraid, but rather you’re looking up at him with something scarily close to admiration. 

Your thumb drops down from his lips and to his chin, and with the slightest of tugs you pull him down into your space. He collapses onto both of his elbows on either side of your head, his breath coming out in warm puffs against your face. He can smell you this close, a mixture of sweat and that sweet perfume Mina had bought for you. 

Again, he doesn’t fight it when you pull him that final inch. Your lips are smooth against his own, so gentle and intoxicating. You kiss him like you want to savour this, savour him. And so he lets you, he lets you savour him just as he savours you in return. His mouth pries yours open easily enough, your tongue eager to meet his own in a smooth curl.

His hips begin to move on instinct, both of his thighs spread wide so he can thrust hard and deep. Your skin slaps against his, a wet sound that has the pit of pleasure in his stomach tightening and tightening with each passing second. His balls smack against the roundness of your ass, drawing up with the urge to spill deep inside of you—but he won’t, as much as he’d love to feel your walls milk him for all he’s worth.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss off, head falling back into his pillows whilst he props himself back up over the top of you. With a better view of your body, your tits that bounce with each rut of his hips, he finds himself standing right on the precipice of his climax. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic in their strength and depth—effortlessly fucking you through your next orgasm when you open your mouth in a silent scream.

“Fu-fuck, fuck,” Bakugou pants, his stomach clenches and his balls draw up tight. He pulls back suddenly from your space, away from the intoxicating heat that radiates off of your body to pull from your pussy entirely. His hand wraps around his cock and he fists it aggressively, thumb pressing against his head before he sucks in one deep breath, only to release it in a loud groan.

His cum comes in thick waves, drawing lines up along your stomach and up along your chest. You lay there, with your legs wide open and eyes half-lidded; watching him cum all over your body. Bakugou finds his hips still thrusting with each spurt from his cock, squeezing every last drop before tapping the sticky tip against your belly button where it had mostly gathered. 

His entire body relaxes immediately, the weight of his responsibilities disappearing into nothing when he lets his mind bathe completely in that post-nut haze. You seem in the same mind, letting your legs droop at his waist and an arm coming to rest over your eyes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

Slipping away from you, Bakugou doesn’t bother to pick up the clothes scattered around and instead beelines it for the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He pauses by the door leading out, he can’t hear any noise—hopefully, Kirishima was still out, if not then he’s going to be up Bakugou’s ass about fucking you. 

Rummaging through a stack of towels, he finds a light and small one to wipe you down with. But as he’s about to re-enter the bedroom, he turns to see you’re standing up and looking around for your underwear.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” He gruffs, his own voice ruined from the session—he needs a drink of water, he makes a mental note. 

You look up at him, quite like the image of a deer in headlights. “Uh, well—I just thought you’d want me to… go.” 

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrow together before his eyes flit down to the ropes of cum still on your skin and he wants to ask if you planned on ruining your clothes with his cum. Instead, he shakes his head, stepping back into the dimly lit bedroom. 

“Get back in bed, let me clean you up.” He watches as you stare at him for a second more, hesitating or debating on refusing his offer. But clearly your exhaustion wins out, because you turn with a drop of the dress in your hand and climb back in his bed, careful to not drip any of his cum on the sheets. 

On the way past, he reaches down to a compartment in his wall to pull out two bottles of water. Placing them on the bedside table, he stands at the foot of the bed looking down at you. He can see you squirming under his gaze, the embarrassment starting to creep up on you but Bakugou can’t find it within himself to be embarrassed about the fact he was still completely naked. It felt good, with you.

You don’t squirm away when he wipes you clean, careful between your legs when he sees how puffy and swollen you look down there. But it still makes you flinch, a quiet gasp leaving your lips and it’s impossible to not smirk up at you before he drops the towel somewhere in the pile of abandoned clothes to be dealt with tomorrow. 

Grabbing one water bottle, he offers it to you. “Drink up, and then actually get in bed. ‘M tired as fuck.” 

He turns away when you take the bottle from him, still sporting that slightly bewildered look on your face as if you expected him to kick you to the streets—or rather, the sofa. Part of him does question why he’s letting you stay in his bed in the first place, but the idea of you going out to that shitty sofa after sex… it just doesn’t sit well in his chest.

He gives you the time to bury yourself beneath his sheets whilst he kicks the dirty clothes towards the far wall, next to the laundry basket before returning to you. You look tiny in his bed, made especially large to accommodate his height. You’re nearly lost beneath the thick sheets and mountain of pillows, it makes his lips curl into a playful smile before he crawls into bed with you. 

You shift out of the way to let him lay down, the room dimming further until you were both plunged into darkness save for the passing lights through the slatted shutters on his window. He can still make you out in the dark, with his optics shut down and eyes naturally enhanced—he can see you’re looking at him over the top of the covers, debating on if you should still make a run for it.

“Fuckin’—...” He huffs a sigh, shifting under the sheets so quickly you don’t have the time to stop him. “Stop actin’ like I’m going to bite you or some shit.”

You curve into his muscle easily enough, moulding into the shape needed to be held close. His chin rests atop your head, thick arms looped around you. It’s odd—Bakugou wasn’t a hugger, definitely not a cuddler but having you in his arms, the smooth feeling of your softer skin beneath his and the warmth that comes from your very being is comforting. 

His heart flutters in his chest when he can feel your arms slowly wrapping around him until you’re embracing him fully. You cling to him as if you were expecting him to rip you away at any given moment and ruin the moment. Has he really been that harsh to you? Sure, he’d been a bit of a dick when he first met you but you were choking out their only Ripper whilst holding a gun to their faces that’d eradicate them before they so much as blinked.

And sure, he had a tongue as sharp as a knife… fuck, maybe he was that harsh with you. He blames it lazily on the drink still in his system, despite the pestering fact in the very back of his mind that he worked most of it out of his system fucking you into his bed. It makes his head ache with the sudden rush of conflicting feelings, thoughts that clash over and over—

Forcing his eyes to shut and muscles to relax, he basks in the warmth of your much smaller body wrapped around his own and lets himself fall asleep.

You wake up feeling… warm. Not hot, nor cold. Comfortable too. The softness of the sheets around are some of the best you’ve felt in weeks, the blanket you’d been given to sleep with on the sofa was somewhat scratchy when you’d tuck it under your chin. This one is smoother, doesn’t catch on the thin intricate strips that are near-invisible to the naked eye that line your body. 

There’s a weight across your body, a leg wedged between your own and a heavy arm draped over your waist. The warmth is coming from directly behind you, a solid press of muscle that breathes steadily against the back of your head. And if you glance just enough over your shoulder, you find a head of blonde hair that’s softened after a night of sleep. 

Bakugou has himself plastered against you, completely. His face is buried into the back of your hair, and with him this close, all you can smell is him. His bed smells strongly of the aftershave he uses, and the man himself smells like your late-night activities—a musk that has your head in the clouds in remembrance. 

You’ve never felt anything like that before. Not that you can remember, anyway. Bakugou treated you more than just someone he wanted to fuck, he didn’t toss you around or disregard the fact you had to cum too to enjoy yourself—he made sure you were on the same level as pleasure as he was, if not more. He kissed you like a lover would. 

That last thought has your face heating, an odd feeling of butterflies fluttering up into your stomach until they settle in your lungs. It was ridiculous to have such a childish thought flit into your mind, Bakugou certainly wasn’t the type of man to settle down—his lifestyle didn’t fit with it.

You could tell just from the way he lived in his own home, he functioned to serve himself only—with the exception of Kirishima when he forgot breakfast. But outside of the walls of his apartment, his work lifestyle wasn’t fit for a partner in any sense of the word. He was a merc, mercs didn’t lock themselves down with someone because it was dangerous. Simple as.

Having a partner in Night City was the same as putting a target on your back. You became weak and vulnerable—something Bakugou would never let himself be. You knew that just from the weeks of living beside him. 

“What’s got you thinkin’ so hard this early?” Bakugou’s voice is deeper, raspier in the mornings… and it’s impossible to not clamp down in longing that he was still buried inside of you. 

He shifts behind you, one long deep breath in before he releases it. His muscles ease off of you when he breathes out, the weightlessness of sleep disappearing with each second. Instead, the arm that was slung over your waist grows bold in it’s movement. His large hand guides his fingers delicately over your skin, circling your belly button before meandering off until he finds your hip.

“Hm?” He nudges you with the tip of his nose, prompting you to glance over your shoulder at him. His eyes are smouldering, barely open and yet the red that stares back at you is bright. The long eyelashes you’ve never had the chance to see so clearly bat delicately against his cheekbones. 

“Nothing, sorry for waking you.” You whisper back, and his eyes automatically drift down to watch the movement of your lips. The hand at your hip kneads softly at the flesh there before it moves lower, the tips of his fingers skirting up and down along your thigh. It’s enough to draw a harsh shiver up your spine, and in turn, causes Bakugou to let out a raspy chuckle.

“Yeah?” You pick up on the playful tone in his voice, a teasing grin growing on his face. “How ‘bout you make it up to me? Hm?” 

You’re drawn to him biting on his bottom lip before his grin grows wider, watching you watch him—a back-and-forth dance to see who snaps first under the surmounting sexual tension in the room. The hand on your thigh slips down, hooking his fingers into your inner thigh to hoist your leg a little higher up on his hip. His cock is hot and hard where it presses between your thighs, the tip tapping against your clit. 

Shifting himself up onto one elbow, partially hovering over you from behind, he finds your lips with his own. The kiss starts off softer than he kissed you last night, it’s not as hurried—not yet anyway. Bakugou kisses you like he wants to savour your flavour, to save the taste of you on his tongue. He tilts his head just slightly to delve in deeper, and then prying your mouth open with his. 

His tongue is invasive, in the sense that he has to dive as deep as he can into your mouth. His tongue curls against the roof of your mouth, feels along the points of your teeth before he’s back to caressing your tongue with his own. The hand between your thighs spreads you lewdly beneath the blankets, a middle finger finding your clit before he strokes it down along your slit; wet and slippery for him.

Bakugou groans into your open mouth, before greedily going in again after the single breath he takes. This time the kiss is more energetic, more consuming. His cock twitches between your thighs, tapping against your thigh with its sticky tip. You can’t help but roll your hips back into him, push your ass out in invitation—

A loud bang in the living area has you both flinching, lips parting just enough for you to see the scowl starting to form on Bakugou’s face.

“Fuckin’ Ei. Just ignore ‘im.” His voice is harsh with desire, a low whisper that has your stomach tightening. Bakugou swoops back in, devouring your lips with more vigour, desperate to get what he wants now he knows that his roommate is awake—who knows when he’ll get a chance like this again. 

He manoeuvres you on the bed, climbing over the top of you until you’re in a similar position as last night; your thighs at his waist and his hands pressed into the sheets on either side of your head. His cock bobs again between the two of you, smearing his pre along the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His lips part from yours once again, this time to chart a path down along your jaw and neck. He bites and kisses in tandem, sucking your skin until you can feel the bruises starting to blossom there. 

Bakugou continues to consume you from the outside, pressing his hips down finally to relieve himself of the pressure building in his groin. He groans beautifully against your skin, a sound so intoxicating you can’t stop your eyes from rolling and your hands seeking purchase in his hair. It’s soft to the touch, and it doesn’t go unnoticed when you accidentally tug on it, his hips press harder against your own. Rutting his cock against your pussy.

“Shit, g’nna fuck you—”

“Yo, Bakugou!” The bedroom door opens with a loud hiss, and you can only squeak out in surprise when Bakugou all but presses you into the bed in an attempt to hide you. “I thought you said we had food in, and—... uh–...”

“Get the fuck out!” Bakugou snarls, reaching over to grab the closest thing to him on the bedside table. There’s a shift of his entire body, something flying through the air and the resounding plastic crunch of Kirishima being smacked by the poor water bottle that was launched. 

“Sorry!” Kirishima back peddles it out of the room before Bakugou can scramble to find something else to throw, the door hissing to announce that he was well and truly out of the room. 

The air is no longer thick with sexual tension, instead, there’s a lingering awkwardness that has Bakugou deflating on top of you. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, and you can feel the heavy sigh that’s pushed out of his body in acceptance that he won’t be fucking you again today. 

“He’s such a fuckin’ idiot, can’t trust him to do shit on his own.” He grumbles against you, his lips so close you can feel each word forming on them. He leans up off of you, kneeling between your legs and you try your hardest to not grow embarrassed at your nakedness on display. He looks almost sad, defeated at the fact he knows he has to go deal with the red-haired giant that’s no doubt ripping apart his kitchen looking for food.

“Sorry,” he huffs, leaning down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips before he’s up and out of bed. “You can just sleep in here if you want. I know that eyebags said you need to rest after whatever the fuck happened so—just, rest here.” 

You raise an eyebrow before realisation dawns on you; he means Shinsou. You smile at that, tucking the comforter back around you and burying yourself among the pillows. You watch as Bakugou blindly digs through his wardrobe, plucking out various clothes until he finds what he wants. 

As if sensing your eyes, he glances over his bare shoulder at you with a wicked smirk on his face before bending down to draw his boxers up his legs. “The showers just in there, feel free to use whatever's in there.” He nods with his head in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay, thank you.” You smile at him when he turns to look at you, he looks awfully handsome like this. Half dressed, a shirt in one hand and belt loose around his waist where he still has to button up his black cargo pants. He hovers for a second, fingers curling a little tighter around his shirt and you can see his jaw working to help him spit out the words he wants to say.

Except, he’s interrupted again by another bang—one that sounds suspiciously like the microwave door being broken. Bakugou groans in annoyance, running a hand through his hair before giving you one last glance just before he leaves the room.

You’re left in silence, the outside world still asleep despite the sun rising. 

“You fucking idiot!” Bakugou yells, muffled but still loud enough that you feel like you’re in the room with him. The rest of the argument fades out into muffled voices, and soon sleep retakes you with the comforting smell of Bakugou still clouding your mind.

It isn’t until a handful of hours later that you emerge from the bedroom. It had quieted down soon after Bakugou had come out to confront Kirishima, and you managed to shower uninterrupted—you found clothes laid out on the bed for you, no doubt from Bakugou who must’ve heard the shower running at some point.

When the door hisses open, you’re met with the smell of beer and the voices of multiple people. People you’ve come to know as Shinsou, Sero and Kaminari. Of course, Bakugou and Kirishima are there too but the former is quiet as he watches the group yap about something he’s uninterested in. 

“Nah, man. I’m telling you, she was looking at me.” Kaminari whines, earning him a snort of laughter from Shinsou and a shake of a head from Sero.

“You’re delusional, she’s a doll. They don’t see a thing.” Sero snickers when Kaminari pouts at that, leaning into Kirishima’s side who mockingly consoles him for thinking he had a chance with a doll.

The name is something that most people know, it was a way for people to get away with doing whatever they wanted to another person without the repercussions. Fuck a doll and they have their memory wiped by the end of it, confess murder and they’ll just smile at you. Dolls. You’d seen plenty of advertisements for it last night whilst visiting Jig-Jig Street, the idea of a chip like that existing made you feel sick.

A call of your name has your eyes blinking, snapping out of the trance and looking towards the source. Shinsou. Immediately Sero and Kaminari flinch in realisation that you were standing right behind them on the sofa, an unwanted reminder of when you had nearly blown them to pieces no more than 48 hours ago. 

“How’re you feeling?” Shinsou asks, head tilting slightly.

“Fine, better than yesterday.” You smile back a little, eyes making their way automatically towards the ash blonde who sits with his knees apart on the opposite side of the sofa, an arm draped over the back of it and a beer can cradled in the hand on his thigh. “Still tired.”

“Even after you slept all day?” Kirishima asks next, and you make the mistake of glancing at him because he has a very knowing smug grin on his face. “Or maybe it was because you didn’t—”

“Oi, shut the fuck up.” Bakugou grunts before taking a sip of his drink, and you’re thankful for the intervention. You use the momentary distraction created by Bakugou to slip into a seat, finding the only place available between Bakugou and Shinsou—there’s a large enough gap that you know was reinforced by the blonde. 

Bakugou only offers you a sideways glance when you settle into the seat next to him, you can feel him watching you; observing to see if you had any regrets from the previous night. But you have none, not a single one. You felt… happy. You didn’t have an overwhelming sense of dread sitting on your chest, instead you felt at ease. You relax into the plushness of the sofa, indirectly sinking into the spot where Bakugou had his arm slung over the back.

The conversation has already moved on, thankfully. All four of the men engaged in the conversation, with Bakugou drinking away at his beer whilst observing the group gathered. 

“Do you remember that gig over in Watson?” Sero snorts, earning him a groan from Kirishima and a laugh from Kaminari. Sero flicks his gaze over to you, and you can see the mischief there when he realises he has an audience who haven’t heard the story.

“Hanta, don’t.” Kirishima whines, sinking into the seat with a large hand coming up to cover his face. You’ve never seen him quite like this; embarrassed. It was new, and you can’t help but smile at the idea of hearing something that would cause the giant of a man such emotions. 

“But she hasn’t heard the story!” Sero exclaims, grinning from ear to ear as he leans forward to put his beer down on the coffee table. “Alright so, we had this gig over on the Northside, up in the Watson district. It was probably one of the easiest gigs to date, a simple in-and-out steal.”

You can feel Bakugou shift next to you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see him grinning over the lip of his beer can. 

“Anyway. It was me, Denki and Ei.” He gestures to each of them in turn. “And for some reason, big Red here wanted to be the guy to do the stealth portion of the mission.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Uraraka just installed some new cyberware. She said I wouldn’t make a sound!” Kirishima huffs when you shoot him an incredulous look. A man who was over 6 ft 7 was definitely not suited for stealth work. If anything, you would’ve picked Sero—lanky, tall, light-footed.

“You’re about as heavy as a bull, you’re heavy footed as fuck Ei.” Bakugou goads, a grin on his face when Kirishima turns the glare his way. 

Sero snickers, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We were meant to just steal this van, apparently it was Maelstrom property but we needed what was in it. All Kirishima had to do was sneak in, hotwire the van and get the fuck out of there. Instead, he trips every alarm known to man and has to hightail it out of there in a van with only two wheels.” 

Bakugou offers a laugh, a genuine laugh at the memory of Kirishima returning to the hideout with a van hanging on for dear life.

“What about the time we had to eradicate that Daemon on the Net?” Kaminari snickers, which in turn has Shinsou turning his sights on him. “Shinsou popped a boner when his connection was flooded with those sex toy ads.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Shinsou growls, and you watch quietly when he lashes out at Kaminari who dares to laugh in his face. “I told you, the next time you tell someone that shit I’m—”

The conversation fades out slowly, your eyes focused on the spot in the centre of the coffee table. Daemons on the Net. Something about that sounds too familiar, would the man you saw in your own subconscious connected to the Net count as one of those daemons? Has someone injected you with something to cause a break in your cyberware? 

You can still hear his voice, calling out your name. You could still feel the shards of glass he shattered in your mind, in your soul. They were lodged so snuggly against your vital organs, pressing yet waiting to be given the order to execute. That happiness you had felt just moments ago is washed away, replaced with the reminder that you were clueless as to who that man was—clueless to who you are. 

A nudge to your foot has you blinking rapidly, glancing down to see Bakugou had knocked his foot against your own. You look at the man at your side, only to find his eyes already set on you. His hand is empty of the beer can he was drinking, and he’s staring at you like he was able to see your inner struggle. 

“C’mon.” He grunts, standing up suddenly and you have no choice but to follow after him. You follow him towards the front door of the apartment, where he suddenly turns to you with the black and orange bomber jacket you’ve grown attached to. You don’t fight him when he throws it over your shoulders, holding the arms to help you with putting it on. 

“Where you goin’?” Kirishima calls from the living area, all of the guys turning their heads to watch you adjusting the jacket on your body whilst Bakugou does the same with his own riding leather jacket.

“Out. Need more beers, figured I’ll take this one with me to save her from you guys being a bunch of freaks.” That earns him a number of groans and insults. “Shuddup, last time you were left with a girl alone, you all had to stiff leg it out of there.” 

He doesn’t wait for the next round of insults hurled his way, instead, he pushes you out of the door first before letting it shut with an audible hiss behind him. You can still faintly hear them arguing through the door but Bakugou shows no issue with the fact he probably just left his own apartment to delve into chaos. 

Bakugou leads you down the stairwell that leads to the garage, he holds the door open for you once you reach your destination and you’re met with a large parking lot. You’ve never been in here before, all the times you went out it was with Kirishima and he was adamant about walking around Night City instead of driving—he hated traffic just as much as the next person it seemed. 

You follow behind Bakugou like a lost puppy, eyes darting from car to car. All of them ranging from heavily modified or straight-up pieces of junk that should be scrapped for a few Eurodollars. When he comes to a stop at the end of the garage, a light flicks on overhead to show the sleek black motorbike you saw when you had been first introduced to Aizawa. 

Bakugou steps off to the side, rummaging around through a bio-coded locker which leaves you to investigate his motorbike a little more closely. It’s beautiful, obviously one of the pride and joys of the ash blonde. Your fingers ghost delicately along the smooth leather seat, it looks untouched—or rather, well-loved and cared for. 

You tilt your head to look down along the expensive body, eyeing the fact there wasn’t even a single scratch on it. Just how well did he care for this bike? Your eyes spot what you’re looking for; Yaiba. 

“It’s a modified Kusanagi CT-3X, if you’re wondering.” Bakugou finds himself next to you, one helmet perched atop his head and forcing the hairs down into his eyes, the other is under an arm.

“A rare Arasaka bike, right?” Bakugou nods at your words, an eyebrow arched as if he’s impressed you even knew that—to be fair, so are you. Your mind buzzes at the information you’re able to pull effortlessly from the bank of information sitting in your mind. “One of the fastest and most expensive bikes out there, how’d you get it?”

“Callin’ me cheap now?” He sneers but there’s no heat to it, he grins when you turn to look at him. He adjusts the helmet under his arm, holding it up to you so he can place it carefully over your head. “It was something I got with my first real paycheck, I always wanted one. Even as a kid when I lived in Tokyo, Yaiba had some of the best bikes out there and I just knew I wanted one.”

You smile up at him when he reveals just a slither of his past. So he wasn’t from here, it made sense. There was something about him that was never truly comfortable about being in Night City, no matter how long you live here—you’re never truly a part of the city as an outsider. Bakugou’s careful in pulling down the helmet, pressing a button on the inside before pushing down his own helmet.

“You hear me alright?” He questions, and you have to stop yourself from flinching at the voice in your ears. You nod at him, and you can hear him snicker quietly over the Bluetooth connection between the two helmets. “Alright, let’s get going before Ei comes and hunts us down.”

He slings a leg over the bike effortlessly, the entire thing bouncing on it’s suspension before he looks over at you through the small lifted gap of his visor. You hesitate for a moment, glancing from him to the seat behind him—if you can even call it that, there’s hardly any room and you’re going to be pressed up right against him. Why does that even matter when you were naked and under him this mor—

“Stop thinking and get the fuck on.” He grumbles, going as far as to reach over to grasp at your forearm to tug you forward. You have no choice but to clamber ontop of the bike behind him, your hands coming to loosely grab at the material of his leather jacket. Bakugou sighs heavily through the comms, using one hand to grasp at each of your hands individually to secure them snugly around his chest. “Hold on, this thing goes fast.”

The bike rumbles to life beneath you, Bakugou no doubt revving it on purpose to make you scoot closer to ensure you weren’t going to slip away when he put his foot down. You cling to him, your arms tucked tightly around his ribcage and head tilted so you’re not poking the front of your helmet into his back. 

Soon enough, you’re out on the road, and you’re amazed by just how easily Bakugou moves the bike with his own weight. He makes it seem effortless when he weaves in and out of traffic, how he bends easily forward forcing you to move with him so that he can pick up speed. You can only watch the world blur past, streaks of rain hardly leaving a mark against your visor from just how quickly you’re going.

You cling to Bakugou, hands grasped tightly on his stomach. You can feel each of his muscles under his shirt, they tense and hardened when he rounds corners much too quickly. He sits back up from his leaned position, forcing you backwards and tilting your head to look over his shoulder. You can see from the speedometer that he’s way above the legal speed limit, hitting a solid 150mph.

The wind and rain batter against the exposed strips of skin on your body, and your hands sting like you’ve been pelted with a million little rocks but you can’t complain too much. The rush, the adrenaline, it’s something else. You feel weightless when Bakugou expertly rounds corners or when he picks up speed along a long stretch of road, weaving between cars that beep and no doubt scream at him for being such an idiot.

“Look to your right,” he speaks into the microphone that’s connected directly to your helmet, his voice sounds calm—at peace. This was his peace, his getaway. To speed his way through a city that could kill him in the next moment. 

You do as he says, glancing to your right to see… you. It’s a clear reflection along some corporate building, you can see yourself attached to his back holding on for dear life. The city on the other side of you is bright, flickering and flashing despite the downpour of rain. You didn’t notice it when you were in the garage but Bakugou had modified his bike to light up, the inner trim of the wheels is set alight with bright neon orange lights.

In a moment of bravery, or perhaps stupidity. You let go. You can hear Bakugou over the comms shouting at you to grab ahold of him again but you feel free. Weightless. Truly weightless. You can’t hear that man's voice in your head anymore, you can only hear the howling wind and the beat of your own heart. You can’t feel that barrier in your mind, splintered and fractured, irreparable because you’re free. 

When your arms extend out at your sides, you can feel a frantic hand grab at the fabric of your jacket. Bakugou holds you in place whilst you let yourself go; to feel free, for the first time. Your heart races in your chest, the feeling like nothing you’ve ever experienced before in your life and you want to cling to this feeling, to this freedom. To the man in front of you, the one who had gifted you that freedom so easily. 

The reflection of the two of you disappears quickly, the building left behind and you can’t help but grin when you finally hear Bakugou again over the whistling wind.

“I swear to fuckin’ god, I won’t be scooping your brains off the road. Put your arms back around me!”

You laugh into the helmet, wrapping your arms once again around his body. You can still feel the tension in his back but it melts just slightly when you grasp tighter than before, holding the entirety of your body against his own. 

“You got a death wish or somethin’?!” He still growls despite you being reattached to him, and you give him another laugh that makes his shoulders sag just slightly in relaxation. “Fuckin’ idiot—...”

“Thank you for bringing me out tonight.” Your words are met with silence, your head comes to rest against the broadness of his shoulders comfortably as you watch the world pass by. The city eventually bleeds out into green, grass and trees that tower high into the sky. You’ve never been here before.

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakugou grumbles quietly, and if it wasn’t for the connection between your helmets you would’ve missed the bashfulness in his voice. “We’re nearly there so just hold on this time, dumbass.” 

You let your body move effortlessly with his, swaying from side to side when he does sharp turns around corners that would have an inexperienced rider thrown off the back of their bike. The rain has started to lessen, only a light drizzle that drenches the back of your jacket and you only squeeze tighter around the single source of warmth. 

Bakugou slows the bike down to a complete stop once he reaches the destination in mind, with a glance around you can see you’re in the middle of nowhere. There are a few houses dotted around, if you can call them that, they’re more like massive mansions. 

“C’mon, keep that on and keep quiet.” Bakugou taps your thigh to get you to climb off the bike before he follows after you. You watch him manually move his bike to hide in the shadows behind some bushes and you’re furrowing your eyebrows immediately in confusion. Just what exactly was he planning?

He tilts his head in a gesture to get you to follow, taking you off of the road and down a steep hill that leads further into the underbrush. The city is obscured by the number of trees and large shrubs, and you nearly lose sight of Bakugou when he ducks in and out of the shadows—but as you watch him, you realise he knows his way through all of this a little too well.

“You’ve been here before?” You whisper over the link, and you see Bakugou glance over his shoulder at you for a moment before returning his gaze forward.

“Yeah, been comin’ here since I first moved here. It’s the only place with some real grass.” His voice lowered down to a whisper has your stomach set alight with butterflies. You continue to wordlessly follow him until he abruptly stops, throwing a hand back to grab at your forearm before pulling you down into a crouch next to him.

You peek around his shoulder, your eyes silently activating to see what he might be seeing. Immediately you hone in on a large SUV parked up on the ridge of the road, around fifty feet in front of you. There’s four heat signatures, all of them belonging to men who are in thick armour and strapped with multiple weapons.

“Arasaka.” You whisper to Bakugou, who quietly nods his head. He doesn’t move a muscle, holding your wrist tightly in his hand as if he’s waiting for them to just look in your direction and open fire. “They’re not holding their weapons, they’re not looking for anyone.”

“The Arasaka estate is up ahead. They’re still on guard dog duty.” Bakugou supplies, causing your eyes to move away from the group of men to the estate he speaks of. You can see it much more clearly with your augmentations active, you can see the heat signatures within and the overwhelming amount of security measures in place.

There’s an indistinctive shout causing you to dart your eyes back towards the group of people only to see them piling back into the car. Bakugou visibly deflates in relief, his hand around your forearm slips down to your wrist before he’s tugging you after him. You follow lowly just behind him, mindful of each step as you grow closer and closer to the edge of the underbrush. Bakugou exits first, standing to his full height which drags you up next to him.

When you glance around, you’re silenced by the view. It’s beautiful. Night City is in the distance, so wide and yet so tightly compacted into tall skyscrapers and tall flashing neon signs. Bakugou’s hand slips away from your wrist when you take steps towards the cliff edge that looks down on the lower level of residents, you can’t take your eyes away from the city before you.

It looked so… small. So dense and yet you knew the intensity of it all from the very moment your eyes opened in that ripper’s office. Night City was a vicious beast, a machine that chewed you up and spat you back out if you weren’t strong enough to survive—but when you look at it from here, look at how insignificant the people are and how tiny the city is. It’s almost impossible to comprehend.

“I come here when I need to clear my head,” Bakugou speaks clearly next to you, having taken off his helmet and holding it beneath his arm. You follow suit and remove your own, thankful for the fresh breeze and slight drizzle against your face. You glance towards Bakugou only to see his eyes set on the city before you, absorbed in his own thoughts. “Figured you could use it too.”

“It looks so beautiful from out here, but inside… it’s—”

“One of the worst places to live. Yeah, I thought it’d be great moving here all those years ago. But I was a dumb kid with a dumb idea, and now here I am.” Bakugou huffs, running his free hand through his flattened hair to re-fluff it before settling himself down onto the ground.

You take his lead and sit next to him, putting your helmet to the side and being careful to not let it roll off the edge of the small cliff in front of you. Setting your eyes back onto the city, you feel that sense of freedom again. You were free from the city, even for just a moment, you felt like you could breathe for yourself for the first time. Your heart wasn’t pounding, your mind wasn’t racing and your skin wasn’t itching in knowing what lay beneath it all. 

“Any reason you spaced out when Dunceface started talking about Shinsou’s gig with the Net?” Bakugou inquires after a moment of silence, you turn your attention to him to find he’s leaning against his propped-up knees, head tilted in your direction. “Don’t gotta tell me shit but—”

“It just reminded me of when I was… healing.” You admit, not missing the way Bakugou visibly winces at the reminder of what put you there in the first place. “When I was in there… Something happened, and hearing Kaminari talk about Daemons—it made me think about why I can’t remember anything.”

“What, like someone’s infected your network or something?” Bakugou shifts slightly, raising his head to look at you properly with a level of concern that looks frankly terrifying on his face. He looks… worried.

“I don’t know, maybe? It’d make sense. I have this empty part of my head that I can’t access, like it’s been cut off from me or something. What if there’s a Daemon in my system? Or worse.” 

“Shinsou would’ve picked up on that. Or even Jirou, she’s the one who said you had impressive firewalls inside that head of yours.” 

A part of you wants to agree with him, because it does make sense. They would’ve found the source of whatever was wrong with you, but instead, they came out empty-handed and you, empty-headed. But you can’t shake the vision of that man, the blurred green of his eyes and then when you saw him in the street… something just wasn’t right. 

“Maybe you’re right. I just—it’s scary, y’know? Not knowing who I am.” You whisper that last part, and Bakugou’s eyes turn from concern to a shade of pity. He shifts himself closer to you, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulders to pull you in close until your head is tucked against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter who you were, that’s what I always told myself when I moved here. I’m not the same guy as I was back then, I found myself. I found a new purpose. That’s just what you need, a new purpose, a new life that you created yourself.” His words are mumbled from where he presses his cheek against the top of your head. 

A new purpose, a new life. That’s what you wanted. To shed yourself of whoever you may have been before all of this, before you had met Bakugou and Kirishima—before you had been let into their family even with them knowing you were capable of killing them all. Your heart aches but not in agony this time, it aches with joy. 

You wanted so much more than what this city had to offer, you wanted to find out what you liked; your favourite foods, your favourite movies, your favourite smells and also the things you hated. You wanted to live.

“I think I’d like that,” you smile, shifting your head against Bakugou’s shoulder to look up at him. He meets your gaze with a soft look on his face, an almost invisible smile on his face. “I want to see the world.”

“Yeah? The world? That’s a lot to see.” His smile grows when you laugh quietly. 

“Would you show me the world, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou is quiet at your question, his eyes flit down to your lips before they find your eyes again. He looks so beautiful this close, the different shades of red in his eyes are breathtaking. There’s so much captured in them, every emotion he feels and every thought he has flicks behind them before his eyebrows visibly relax, his body holding you closer.

He leans in, lips brushing against your own before he speaks. “I’ll show you it all.”

And when he kisses you, he kisses you softly and gently like you were to be handled with such care. It’s not love but you have a feeling that it might blossom into something like that. One day.

Before you know it, the three days of rest have come and gone. It felt like you had blinked and you were back right where you started before everything had happened in that plastic-wrapped room. But this time you had Shinsou on one side and Kaminari on the other in the back of Bakugou’s car. 

Currently, Shinsou was connected to your interface via a cable that slipped free from his wrist and fused itself into the plating on your palm. He had told you it was to relay all information that you’d need to ensure you got in there unnoticed, he loaded you with visuals of maps, layouts of their cameras and their usual patrolling routes.

Kaminari on your other side was fiddling with a hunting knife, the jagged edge was glinting in the passing street lights and every now and again it would buzz with electricity. He told you it was connected to his own chrome, he’s able to absorb electricity and pass it back through objects—something that had earned him plenty of shocks to the system that left him reeling.  

Even with the presence of Shinsou in the back of your mind offloading a multitude of data, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bakugou who was once again in the driver's seat. He had been different in the three days since that night outside of the city. He was more open to the idea of intimacy, often opening his arms for you at night and holding you in the mornings until he had to inevitably get up.

Kirishima had noticed it too, grinning along with the back-and-forth jokes between you and Bakugou. He thankfully didn’t make a scene out of the gentle touches he absolutely caught the two of you exchanging when you assumed no one was around.

Your chest fills with those pesky butterflies, the smile on your face must look mushy because you can feel the ache in your cheeks. You felt genuinely happy, an emotion that was your own and something you were able to hold onto. You wanted to experience everything with Bakugou at your side, and no doubt Kirishima would tag along too. 

After that night out in North Oak, you had returned home to find that it was just Kirishima left and Bakugou had offhandedly said that a trip to Japan was on the table. Kirishima had leapt at the opportunity to talk about his hometown, about the different shops and restaurants there. He spoke about his country with so much love, and Bakugou had a nostalgic look on his face—so you asked if he’d take you there one day. He agreed, of course, stating it’ll be the first stop on your way to conquering the world.

Kirishima, of course, had no idea just what that meant.

“Try to keep your head clear,” Shinsou comments from the side, effectively dragging you free from your thoughts. “It’ll go more smoothly if you’re not actively trying to force me out of that brain of yours.” Your eyes drag along the cable connecting the both of you, something that could open you up in the most vulnerable of ways. 

During the three days of rest, you spent more time with Shinsou too. He had been a Netrunner for a long time, even coming from Arasaka’s very own prestigious school with the help of Aizawa funding him through the entirety of it. The rest of the crew hadn’t been so fortunate, coming from no education at all or limited from when they lived in Tokyo.

That was another thing you were curious about. People didn’t just come to Night City for fun, it was a city designed to trap you here until your inevitable death. Apparently, Shinsou had always been in NC, born and raised in Japantown but almost everyone else had tales of the way things were being run back in Japan—long story short, it was being overrun by corporations that had no regard for people who were beneath them. It was either leave or die.

“Done. Should be good to go.” Shinsou says, withdrawing the cable connected to your wrist. The information flickers through your mind rapidly, similar to how someone would graze through a filing cabinet. Everything was here, this would be a simple operation if you pulled it off correctly.

You hadn’t realised the car had drawn to a stop until Bakugou turned his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing together as if he was trying to figure out something to say. But instead, it’s Kaminari who speaks up, slapping a hand against your thigh before he grins. 

“Ready to pull off the coolest fucking job?” You don’t miss the way Bakugou’s eyes lock onto the hand for a second too long before he meets your eyes again. All you can do is nod along, still unable to break your eyes away from Bakugou until he forces himself to look away first.

With a nod of his own head, Kaminari deems that worthy enough of a response and grins at you. His hand squeezes your thigh absentmindedly before he climbs out of the car, yelping with Bakugou grunts a command at him the second he steps out of the car.

Soon enough, you’re out of the car too whilst Kirishima ensures you have your weapon loaded and Shinsou talks over the game plan again. “You need to get to the underground levels. On the first floor, it should be primarily empty, the rest of Maelstrom will be beneath that. All you have to do is get into that room, snag a shard and leave. We’re here for backup.” 

“I’ll have to go dark when I’m inside.” You see Bakugou shift on his feet a little at that, the uneasiness of you being unable to communicate with them properly if anything was to go wrong. They all nod in agreement regardless, stepping back when you slip the handgun into its holster on your waist before shrugging off the orange jacket that Kirishima had given you all those weeks ago. Bakugou wordlessly takes it from you.

Looking at the building just across the street, it looks unassuming. A simple warehouse, but even you could see the spray tags on the walls of the Maelstrom, this was a significant base of theirs. 

Just as you’re about to step forward to begin the job, a hand grabs your elbow and you turn to see Bakugou looking at the building instead of you. “Don’t do anything reckless this time.” His eyes drift down to meet yours, the red flaring to life in his eyes for a second. “Got it, hotshot?” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Hotshot?”

“You took a pulse rifle shot—”

“Oh, you’re terrible. Really? Hotshot?” You grin at his words, it was another terrible joke he couldn’t stop himself from making. His lips twitch in a small smirk before it fades, the gravity of the situation settling on him once again. “I’ll be fine, I have you to back me up this time. Right?”

Bakugou stays silent for a moment before he nods. “Right. I’ve got your back.” He looks hesitant when you take a step backwards, his fingers that had been in contact with your elbow twitching at his side before he ultimately decides to pocket them. “Don’t play hero either, you get out of there if you have to.”

“It almost sounds like you care for me Katsuki,” his eyes widened the tiniest amount at the use of his name, no doubt a flurry of memories from just a few nights ago flitting through his mind. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to be taking bullets for anyone today. I have the world to see, remember?” 

But before Bakugou could say anything, you fade into nothing right before him. Even when his eyes flash to life, he can’t see you anywhere. His eyebrows draw together in concern, this plan felt rushed—he should be going in with you, you shouldn’t be taking this on alone. What was Aizawa thinking? A hand clapping on his shoulder draws his attention away from where you may have gone.

…Your shoulders drop once Bakugou looks away, you could see the concern on his face, painted as clear as the sky above. You couldn’t remember if you had ever done solo missions like this before—having a partner to help would’ve been nice, but you had no time to dwell on it when you started to walk towards the big warehouse. You note the multiple cameras as you pass by them, the red blinking light flickers for a moment before they’re shut down. Have you always had cyberware that could shut down electronics? 

“That was me.” Shinsou’s voice is loud in your head, as if he were speaking directly next to you. “Sorry, should’ve said something.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” You murmur back, eyes darting back and forth once you slip through the open warehouse door. There was a big truck in the centre of the room, modified with spikes and reinforced windows. Definitely Maelstrom. 

“About twenty feet in front of you, and then to the right there should be a door that will lead to the stairwell. That’s your way in.” 

You follow Shinsou’s guidance without hesitation, feet moving silently across the floor whilst your eyes dart back and forth through the dark warehouse. It was odd for it to be so empty, were they all really below ground? Surely there should be a guard— “Stop!” Shinsou all but hisses at you, your entire body freezing at the edge of a rack of crates. 

There’s movement, and your eyes dart upwards to see a drone scanning slowly. Drones? Since when did Maelstrom have the money for drones? You don’t say anything as you watch the silent drone pass by, thankfully having not detected you even through your invisibility. This could prove to be a problem if they’re using tech like that, who knows what else they have hidden. 

“There are no mentions of drones anywhere. They’re chromeheads, sure, but they always liked doing shit themselves.” Shinsou supplies once you’re moving again. Slipping into the stairwell that Shinsou had directed you to, you notice the difference in temperatures almost immediately. It’s freezing. 

“Turning off comms.” 

“Wait—” His voice cuts out immediately, something doesn’t feel right down here. It shouldn’t be so cold, it’s like stepping into an industrial freezer. Maelstrom didn’t like the cold, for one simple reason; it fucked with their cyberware. 

Freezing temperatures caused it to malfunction, which meant… it’ll fuck yours up too. You need to back out, and report what you think might be down there but—something is stopping you. Aizawa would be pissed if you back out of this with your tail between your legs, he definitely wouldn’t let you come back empty-handed either. 

With slow careful steps, you continue to descend into the freezing depths of the basement. Rounding the corner that leads to the final set of steps, you stop in your tracks. The lights are off, save for a slow, long blink of a red light. All the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, something screaming in the back of your mind to back out now. Your hand slips to the handgun on your holster, withdrawing it when you press your back to the cold concrete wall. 

You can do this. You can find out what’s in this room, slip by and find the shard. You can do this. You can. Sucking in a harsh breath, you brace your body before whipping around the corner with your gun raised but your blood runs cold, determination falling from your face and morphing into fear. “What—”

...

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t contact her?” Bakugou snarls, glaring at Shinsou who’s hunched over a laptop that was once tracking your whereabouts. 

“She said she was turning off comms, but she wasn’t even in the basement yet.” Shinsou frowns, running a hand through his unruly purple hair for a moment. “Fuck, you don’t think she…?”

“No,” Kirishima replies, leaning against the car with his eyes locked on the building in front of them. “She wouldn’t do that, not now.” 

“Should we go in?” Kaminari offers, glancing over Shinsou’s shoulder to stare at the blank map. 

Shinsou opens his mouth to talk before all heads whip towards the warehouse, their hearts thumping in their chests whilst the sound of the alarms being tripped drowns out any words any of them may have wanted to say. 

There are approximately three seconds of calm before the storm hits full force. The Maelstrom weren’t in fact in the building at all, instead hiding in the surrounding smaller buildings dotted around. Yet none of them looks at the group that is sitting staring at the scene unfolding; they’re all descending onto the warehouse. 

Onto you.

“It’s a setup,” Bakugou says, words coming out monotone as if he wasn’t quite aware of what he was saying—unaccepting of the ugly truth. “She’s been fucking set up.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. His feet move before he fully registers that he’s barreling towards what is most likely certain death, he thinks he can hear Kirishima shouting at him to stop but he can’t. You weren’t going to fucking die now after everything. 

His heart hurts from how hard it pounds against his ribcage, the rifle in his hand is light when he raises it to shoot anyone who steps foot into his path. Bakugou barrels through the open warehouse door, following the directions Shinsou had given to you no more than ten minutes ago. It seems a lot of the Maelstrom have made their way below ground, or had been shot on Bakugou’s way in.

His stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of you being trapped beneath the ground with a gang of twenty or more descending on you with the intention of killing you. His hand itches around the rifle, fingers twitching with the urge to open fire the second he can. 

Something like true fear starts to pool into Bakugou’s stomach once he deduces that you must’ve descended the only set of stairs. The freezing fog slowly creeping up the steps is enough to make him shiver, the chrome in his body aches from the slow approaching cold. There’s no way you could be down there and still be alive, you were more metal than human than he was.

And yet still, Bakugou pushes through the veil of fear that washes over him and descends the stairs. The fog swirls and wraps around him like tendrils, tugging him further into the icy depths of the dark basement. His thumb brushes against the side of his gun, flicking it off the safety and soon a red laser helps guide him through the dense fog. 

He can’t see anything, or anyone, it does nothing to quell the horrid feeling that’s making a home in his chest. Had they already gotten to you? Kidnapped you? Did they know you were a high-priced target? The Maelstrom were no strangers to wanting to get their hands on money, they’d do anything for it.

In the darkness, Bakugou stumbles as the tip of his boot catches on something. He catches himself quickly enough, gun darting downwards and he’s unsurprised to see the remnants of one of the gang members. They already weren’t people anymore, but seeing them like this was something else. You had certainly been the one to cause such damage, but that just leads to the question – where the fuck are you? 

A hand clamps onto his shoulder, jolting the large blonde to move and reposition his gun until it was under the chin of whoever dared to sneak up on him. Just through the thickness of the fog, he’s able to see the illuminated red eyes of Kirishima staring down at him. It only soothes his heart a little, he knows Kirishima will have his back through this and for whatever is to come next. 

“You fucking big idiot, who just grabs someone in the dark?” Bakugou hisses regardless of the relief that settles into his rigid bones, his heated breath puffs out to add to the ever-growing fog that surrounds them. 

Kirishima smiles a little, albeit sheepishly and lets his hand drop from Bakugou’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to shout, who knows what’s in here.” Kirishima manages to whisper back, his eyes finally darting away from Bakugou to scour the darkness.

Bakugou can only grumble about that, Kirishima did have a point. Neither of them knew what was in there, and Bakugou couldn’t rely on his eye enhancements in the frigid cold. So he just moves, and Kirishima moves naturally along with him. 

“Do you think they got to her?” The dreaded question comes tumbling from Kirishima’s mouth.

“I fuckin’..- I don’t know.” Comes Bakugou's blunt reply, but he doesn’t mean for it to be so blunt. There’s just no other way around it, the possibility of you being taken or worse is slowly increasing. Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with the slow-building guilt in his conscience. He should’ve turned this job down for you, you were just blindly following whatever Aizawa demanded of you.

A click has both of the men freezing, Bakugou’s rifle in his hand poised and ready to fire the second the threat shows itself.

…The gun feels like a ten-tonne weight in your hand, it makes the synthetic fibres in your muscles in your body ache. But nothing is quite as heavy as the shard in your hand, it makes your stomach lurch uncomfortably to the point where your breakfast threatens to make a return. 

When you rounded the stairs and found the shard in a lone storage slot within an open cabinet, you had never wanted to run more. It wasn’t the fact it was a shard—but rather that it had your name engraved into the delicate metal. 

As soon as you had picked it up the red blinking light had turned off, the freezing air spilling from the now empty cabinet and tumbling onto the floor. You were plunged into darkness, and yet you could still see the shard as clear as day in your hand. 

However, it wasn’t just any data shard; it belonged to Militech. They were known for their ruthless advances in A.I. and other technological achievements, and the very thing in your hand with your name etched into it—you knew it could only mean trouble, whoever had dropped it off here wanted you to find it. But why? You didn’t understand, with each passing thought that involved Militech and the shard in your hand, it felt like your brain was ripping itself apart trying to recover memories that were locked behind a thick wall. 

You had to get rid of it; destroy it or make sure no one ever got their hands on it. This thing could hold countless pieces of information on the inner workings of Militech and its operations. 

“Hurry, or they’ll kill you.”

There’s a quick shuffle of footsteps coming down the steps behind you, and your fingers tighten uncomfortably around the chip. If you died here, you’d never be able to get away and ensure this thing never saw the light of day. The Maelstrom must’ve paid a pretty price for this thing, or perhaps they were keeping it safe until Militech came and picked it up. You couldn’t risk any of them getting their hands on it. 

You only had one choice. 

It’s not a painful procedure, it feels more like a tingle when the chip slides into the slot next to your own data shard on the back of your neck. But then it locks in, and it feels like you’re injected with nanites; they bite and chip away at you until they take root in your brain. They skitter and scamper across your spine, wrapping themselves around every vertebra. You can feel the way it spreads and wraps itself around your frontal lobe, squeezing until it’s too painful to bear. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and your fingers press fruitlessly into the slot to try and pry it out of your body but it won’t release. It feels like your very soul is being warped and pressed into a mould, ripped and torn until you’re no longer a person anymore. 

The scream that tears apart your throat doesn’t sound like your own, it’s mangled and distorted—you can feel yourself fragmenting, your very skin splitting apart to rebuild itself in an attempt to save itself from the A.I. that was rapidly infecting your system. Your mind feels like it’s on fire, burning in the deepest depths of hell until finally, you feel nothing. 

Everything clicks into place, and the pain vanishes just as quickly as it had latched on. You move automatically when the first wave of Maelstrom approaches you, your handgun tossed to the side in favour of the gun embedded in your arm. It whirs to life, and you can only watch through the tinted glass of your eyes as you make your way through people as if they were nothing more than wet paper.

It all slowly comes to a lull, bodies slumped to the floor and blood sticks to your skin. It should feel cold but you feel like you’ve been locked out of your own body—everything is numb. 

It’s all so empty now, the memories you had formed over the last few months of being part of a family flicker and fade from existence. You couldn’t put a name to the faces in your mind, the voices and laughter becoming nothing but static that blinds you to the noise of approaching footsteps.

Not until it’s too late. You hear a shout, your eyes adjusting to the darkness to make out two outlines of gang members. One has a gun raised to you, the other has their hands raised to you as well yet you don’t spy a weapon. The Maelstrom weren’t known for their chrome for nothing, you suspected they had some interesting weaponry just like your own. 

Your eyes flicker, the augmentations in your eyes malfunctioning the longer you resist the command to execute all those who pose a threat to you. A warning flashes across your vision, a clear message that if you continue to resist you’re at risk of imminent death.

You raise your gun in response. There’s a presence looming just behind you, out of sight, yet you can hear a low chuckle – the familiarity of it has your blood freezing, and yet you can’t find the strength to stop yourself from acting on command for whoever was in control of the A.I.

“Put it down!” One of them yells, yet it’s muddied by the static in your ears. It sounds like they’re shouting through an old radio. “Lower your fucking weapon!” 

“They’ll kill you. Make sure you get there first.” The voice over your shoulder supplies, and you swear you can feel the puff of warm breath against your neck. There’s a soft brush of curls against your cheek when they lean just enough into your peripheral you can see green.

There are more whispers between the two of them, words you can’t make out but their momentary distraction is enough. Your arm tenses, the warning across your vision vanishes and then there’s a blinding light, it illuminates the darkness of the basement enough for you to finally make out the faces of the two men who had approached you. 

You can only blink, the familiar red and blonde hair makes your heart lurch. This all seemed so oddly familiar, a strange sense of deja vu washes over you. You expect to see one of them fall to the ground, but instead, it’s you who watches the world tilt and fall away.

You can’t move. Your limbs feel like they’re too heavy for your bones, and the cold finally starts to seep through your bones the second you make contact with the floor. 

“FUCK!” The blonde all but screams, and before you know it he’s in your face. Your body moves like a ragdoll until you’re scooped into his lap. You think you can feel the brush of his fingers against your forehead, frantically swiping away the hair that clings to your sweat-ridden skin. You can feel one of his hands move away from your face to press hard against your chest, you watch his face crumple when he realises something.

He’s speaking, rocking just slightly and the static starts to fade away until you hear him. “‘M sorry. ‘M so fucking sorry. I didn’t–I knew I shouldn’t–.” His sentences aren’t complete, broken up by the wet sobs that shake his body. His hand is wet when it comes back to your face, the smell of synthetic blood clogs your nose. 

The unnamed blonde continues to press his fingers against your face, squeezing your cheeks in an attempt to get you to respond but you can feel something now; a tug to just let go. You can only watch when the red-haired one squats down next to you as well, his mouth moves but there’s no sound.

You don’t think you have it in you to speak, to tell them something—anything, your world slowly starts to darken around you. But you hope the man cradling you knows he meant something to you; even if you can’t quite grasp the reason why. You just know that perhaps you might’ve come to love him, if you were given the chance to.

“Another disappointment.” The unknown man shrouded in a cloak of darkness watches from over the shoulders of both men who crowd you, but neither of them seems to notice him, too preoccupied with attempting to stop the rapid warmth that is spilling from your chest. The last thing you see is him shaking his head, a flash of green before there’s nothing.

. . . .

There’s a clatter on the sofa, followed by a choked sob. Bakugou rakes his hands through his hair, pushing back the long strands that fell onto his face. He side-eyes the headgear next to him; a braindance. 

It wasn’t just any braindance, it was one he had made specifically for him. They called it ‘Soulswap’, it was a walkthrough of your entire time with him, from the moment he had found you in that warehouse and up to the moment he had shot you. How it was made was something that Bakugou fought with for a while, it was morally wrong. To have someone dissect you like some high school science experiment and implant strands of your data—your memories—into something that he could watch. 

A ding on the coffee table draws his attention away from the braindance, and he swipes up his phone to see Kirishima has sent him a message.

[22:34] RED: Stop reliving it. You know that isn’t what she wanted.

Bakugou scoffs, what the fuck did Kirishima know about you? What the fuck did he know about the weight in his chest that replaced his once beating heart? He knew nothing. No one listened to him when he said that it wasn’t you at the end, that you weren’t in control. 

It was charted down to Cyberpsychosis on your unofficial death certificate. 

The uneasiness continued to eat away at Bakugou, even when he chose to ignore the onslaught of text messages from the others. It’d been this way for the last four years and it had only come to fruition now. It was hard to find someone capable enough of creating a braindance that wasn’t just a cheap way to get off or to kill someone without repercussions.

It was a delicate job, and he had finally found the guy to do it. 

Yet now he’s unsure if he should’ve gone through with it. Whilst it was all in cyberspace, he could still feel the emotions you had in your final moments. You had felt something for him, just as he had felt something for you—does feel something for you. 

Sinking back into the sofa, the world buzzes around him yet it feels like Bakugou is still stuck in that basement all those years ago. It used to take a more violent toll on his body, his modifications often becoming the victim of neglect until Kirishima forced him to keep taking the blockers to ensure he didn't spiral into psychosis. 

Bakugou’s head lulls back, staring up at the spinning fan on the ceiling. It won’t be long until Kirishima comes back and lectures him about bad habits or whatever the fuck he wanted to be on his ass for. 

“And with the renewed partnership between Militech and Lazarus, I truly believe we’ll be able to bring a stop to crime here in Night City.” 

That voice causes Bakugou to snap his head up, glaring at the television that hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room. It wasn’t often he would make TV appearances but it wasn’t unexpected. He watches the camera pan across an array of Militech drones and other tech that he can’t quite understand before it falls back onto the CEO of Militech.

Izuku Midoriya.

Midoriya has a fake smile plastered on his face, hands buried in his deep expensive pockets as he stares at the interviewer just off to the side. His verdant eyes are dull, devoid of anything lifelike. Bakugou isn’t surprised entirely by that, Izuku was… once a friend, but he betrayed him and the rest of them for a chance at fame. 

He moved to Militech and quickly overtook the company, plunging them into tech that wasn’t short of war machines. 

“Hah, yes. It is true, we have been working on a new AI that we think will definitely be capable of deterring even those inflicted by Cyberpsychosis.” 

Bakugou blinks, his attention drawn back to the screen to see Izuku laughing about whatever had been asked, something about that laugh sounds familiar – not just from when he had known Izuku but from recent memory. 

And when it slowly dawns on him, it curdles his blood and makes his stomach tense. That laughter. The voice that lacks any emotion. The world fades into nothing around him the longer he stares at Midoriya talking animatedly about something in the interview, his chest tightens more and more until it feels like his heart may just burst.

It wasn’t a case of regular Cyberpsychosis.

Izuku Midoriya was the one who triggered it. He must’ve been the one who had planted that foreign chip, he wouldn’t just hand something like that over to the Maelstrom.

“We’re proud to announce the next line of fully-developed Artificial Intelligence; Akuma. This is just one of our newly created full cyborg—”

Bakugou finds his body locking into place, muscles growing tight and stomach twisting in knots before his heart plummets down into his stomach. His eyes widened. There. Right next to Izuku is… you. But it’s not the you he knew, it’s a duplicate, one of the new cyborgs created to withstand ‘Akuma’. 

He can tell from the way you hold yourself, rigid and cold like you were just some lifeless robot. You don’t respond to the stimuli around you, staring blankly ahead. It feels like his heart is being torn apart once again, shredded in a blender until there’s nothing left but an empty void that sits in his chest.

He knows for a fact that it’s not the real you, the one he held, the one who took a bullet for him—the one he was going to take home to meet his parents. He watched you go up in flames at a pyre funeral. It was Aizawa who had suggested it. “To make sure no one gets her.” Looks like that didn’t fucking matter, did it?

…No. Izuku must’ve had your DNA stored from when you worked at Militech. You were just an experiment, all the chrome you were sporting wasn’t just because you were a Militech worker, but rather because you were one of the prototypes for Militech. From the very start, you were destined to fail—another disappointment.

Bakugou doesn’t even register that he’s already moving, swiping up the bomber jacket you wore. The pulse rifle swung over one shoulder and the door slammed shut behind him. It was time to pay his childhood friend a visit.

i think about you in the 80th hour | bakugou katsuki x reader | read on ao3

ABOUT: Katsuki is a constant that drops in and out of your life at a moment’s notice, when he’s a teenager thinking about you in his bed, and when he’s an adult bringing you a thermos in the cold and empty of a hospital room; a fight leaves you battered at the mercy of Death and Katsuki’s floodgates, the emptiness within you doesn’t settle when he leaves you behind and out of his life, but you want to teach him what it really means to love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

LENGTH: est. 18k, STATUS: completed

CHP 1: inebriation quenches the thirst

CHP 2: what happens in the alpine, stays in the alpine

CHP 3: realisation is bittersweet (when he wants you)

CHP 4: what reconciliation really means (nsfw)

CHP 5: you’ll fall in love on your own pace (with my little things)

Chems & Confusion Masterlist

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader Rating: R / 18+ Status: Complete Summary: Katsuki hates the desert; shame he has to go through one to get to the other side of this god-forsaken wasteland. More so for the fact that there's a gambling town right slap-bang in the middle of it, and Denks is eager to waste all their caps. Ei's got an eye on him though, should any trouble come their way, and Katsuki's always done fine on his own. 

Or maybe he shouldn't have spoken so soon. There's a target on his back, and he'll be damned if he knows why.

Warnings: Post-apocalyptic AU, foul language, smut, gun violence, death, murder, drug use, prostitution, plot heavy.

Notes: It's that time of year again; Bakugou's Birthday of course! 🥳 Please enjoy yourselves with this as much as I loved writing it, even if it’s going to be a little late 💚

A special thank you goes to @katsukikitten for helping me with some plot stuff, and to all the wonderful writers who allowed me to put their usernames in the banner. Please check out their stuff if you haven't already. There were so many more I wanted to add, but just didn't have the space; consider yourselves filed under the <more> option 🥰

(Chapters listed under the cut)

If you prefer to read on AO3, please click HERE.

🟩 Part One

🟩 Part Two

🟩 Part Three

🟩 Part Four

Recommended reading playlist found HERE and HERE (instrumental) for maximum enjoyment and some easy listening 🎷🎺🎶

Bakugou’s head pounded as he struggled to fit his front door key into the lock, roughly smashing it against the cold metal until it clicked. Practically falling into his house as he strumbled to regain his balance, fuckin’ dunce face and his happy hour strawberry daiquiris. He’d always told him that those drinks were the most lethal, the ones that would really get you in trouble.

He hadn’t planned on going out to celebrate his birthday, perfectly content with spending the evening at home cooking his favourite mapu tofu and watching reruns of the American All Might documentary; but instead he’d found himself at a dingy dive bar surrounded with all his friends who insisted on plying him with drinks. Practically groaning at the puppy dog eyes Kirishima had given him when he’d returned with a tray of shots, “You need to let yourself relax and unwind a little, Bakubro! It’s not good keeping yourself so pent up.”

And perhaps his best friend was right.

Collapsing onto his bed as he attempted to struggle out of his jeans, barely able to unbutton them before giving up with his chest heaving. For fucks sake, the room was spinning. It didn’t help that his cock was stood proudly at half mast, bulging beneath the denim and desperate for some sweet relief. He’d spent the entire day bricked up, and the alcohol had only worsened the sensation.

Bakugou unlocked his cellphone to check for the time, wincing when a bright 1:49AM flashed across the screen. But even more glaringly obviously was the influx of notifications that had caught his eye, a multitude of them replying to a post that in his drunken stupor he hadn’t even realised he had sent.

Replies:

Reply from @kweenkatsuki-fics just head, king?

Reply from @kingkatsuki who knew Dynamight was such a slut?

Reply from @saturnsorbits thought you said you weren’t that desperate, huh?

Reply from @bakugotrashpanda video attached, hit me up

Reply from @strafepanzer anyone will do huh?

Reply from @katsukikitten picture attached, location shared, cum here

A Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab!!!!! A mix of smut and crack fics we've whipped up and hope you enjoy! Please be sure to check back for the fics on the mentioned blogs! Fics will be posted around Bakugou's birthday! 420 blaze it 🍃

Intro written by @kingkatsuki

a glimpse of us | bkdk x reader

✧ tags ;; fem!reader (afab, she/they pronuns used), cigarettes / nicotine addiction, drinking to cope, heavy hurt/comfort, polyamorous negotiations, arguing, unhealthy coping, miscommunications / bad communication, rebounding, getting together, bkdk interact both sexually and intimately, oral (m+f recieving), threesomes, double penetration, anal fingering / anal with prep, intimacy, no power dynamics but reader is confident sexually, petnames (sweetheart, baby), 18+, mdni

✧ wc ;; 19.8k (putting on my clown shoes)

✧ a/n;; i wrote this for me and no one else and you will notice this right away. my bkg bias is also kinda present HDFJKSD

✧ synopsis ;; you always knew you were a stand-in. why wouldn't you be? but you hoped that at least once, he saw you for what you were. that all those years together meant something more.

You haven’t touched a cigarette since your last year of college. 

It’s the middle of the night, and the September air is colder than you know what to do with. Part of you knows you should wear a jacket since the weather is persistently bad. It’ll storm soon. 

But another part of you doesn’t really care if you get sick. So, instead of dwelling - you follow your whims and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Sitting up in your bed, all of your limbs feel heavy. Your eyes are swollen almost shut, crusty from a long night of crying and drinking. 

You laugh a little humorlessly for being so upset about the whole thing, sober enough to do so. Right now, at least after some sleep, you feel okay. Not bad, definitely not good, but okay. And you want to smoke a cigarette, which is probably a sign that you’re not coping with this as well as you’ve hoped.

You don’t think about it. You choose not. Instead, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and stand to your feet. You look around your room. Your cat, Ganache, is asleep in a cardboard box, making you laugh. Your laundry is in a pile, and your work is sprawled all over your desk. Tomorrow, you’ll finish some of it and maybe take a hike alone. 

There’s no light in your room besides the moon, covered by clouds. Through the glass doors in your bedroom - leading to the balcony, you look at it for a long time. The sky is starless. It’s light pollution, but somehow it feels like you. Lonely.

You laugh at your own misery and walk to the bathroom to examine your face. You’re worse for wear. Your hair hasn’t been touched in god knows how long, and your face is covered in oil. Reaching your hands out for the faucet, you run the warm water, pumping face wash into your hands and rubbing your skin maybe a little harder than necessary. 

You don’t want to think about it. Your fingers scrub along your cheek, and around the area of your nose that gets crusty during the cooler season. Splashing warm water into your skin, you wash the soap away and pat it dry into a towel. 

Better, you think while looking into the mirror. At least a little bit. 

You put some cream on, and some chapstick but don’t bother brushing your teeth. It’d be pointless to do it now, knowing you’re going to smoke yourself halfway through a pack and it’ll linger on your lips for days. 

You don’t change out of your PJs. Worn basketball shorts, and a muscle tank top that shows off the skin stay on. You rummage around in your drawer for a windbreaker and put it on over your clothes. It’s 2 sizes too big but covers you decently. 

Before you leave your apartment, you give your cat a little rub on the head but don’t wake her. You grab your keys, some pepper spray, and a lighter and shove them into your pocket before taking a look around your barren apartment. 

You were planning on moving out, just a few weeks ago, somewhere closer to them. The irony isn’t lost on you.  

You turn the knob and close the door behind you - checking to make sure it’s locked before descending down your hallway. There’s a single light at the end but the rest is dark. It’s a quiet walk. You take an elevator to the first floor. and then leave the whole place behind. 

You turn your head to look at it, worried it’ll disappear for a minute. Afterward, you’re out on the street alone for the first time in a long time. 

You tilt your head back and stare at the sky. With chapped skin and the tip of your nose freezing, you look at the moon again. It cradles you. Alone, so utterly and terribly alone you think. But the two of you are alone together, and even though it’s silly - it keeps you from crying. 

You didn’t bring your headphones, though your phone is in your pocket.  Normally, being alone at night makes you nervous. You used to always have company or someone you could call. 

You could still probably call them. If you wanted. They’re heroes before they’re anything else. 

But the walk is simply cumbersome. You’re not afraid. Too numb, or too desperate to hold onto the brief relief of apathy to be afraid. Nothing happens on the walk there, but you’re not really paying attention. Even if the world collapsed right now, you wouldn’t know. 

You know you’re at your location because the light is almost blinding. The luminescent glow of the neon lights makes your vision feel bleary, flickering red kanji and sterile white from the inside. You look around to see no one else is really there, aside from you.

You hesitate to walk in. Is it worth it to break a 4-year streak over this?

But you can feel the itch in your throat, the dryness in your mouth. The memory of relief overwhelms your every sense. Your stomach lurches, scratching your neck. 

You walk into the store. 

A noise goes off, a little ding. The person at the cash register doesn’t even lift his head to look at you. A college student, you think. He looks young. 

You miss college, sometimes. You were a lot more of a mess. Stressed out, frantic, with a fully functioning liver  at the start which was nice. But at least then, everything felt more temporary. Every wound felt like it would heal,  no matter how big. Everything felt like an impactful part of your growth. 

And it’s not like you’re not growing anymore, but now misery just feels like misery. You don’t feel it as much as you live it passively. You have bills to pay. A pet to take care of. Parents old enough to retire. So every bad thing just becomes part of the wave that crashes at your feet every so often. 

If this happened in college, you’d be crying and partying and whatever else. You wouldn’t be as desperate to move on, maybe. Letting yourself be broken was a luxury that you didn’t think you still had.

But you don’t want that for yourself either. You just want to stop it altogether and disappear. Under a cloud of white, or the stream of a creak. You just want to go. 

You can’t though. Can’t leave. Can’t uproot yourself into new soil, so you lean into old habits for comfort.

Smoking helps you disappear. Your lungs, passively intaking the nicotine and replacing the remaining parts of you. 

You search the fridges for a 6 pack of beers. Some cat food, some microwave meals, a candy bar. You take it all in your hands and dump it onto the counter. The kid at the counter gives you a look like he’s startled. He’s reading manga, though you can’t see the cover. 

“Could I get two packs of cigarettes? Seven Stars, Revo Lights Menthol.” You say, voice still thick with sleep. You give him a half-smile as he seems startled, watching as his hands fiddle with the keys of the cigarette case. 

He puts the two packs on the table, closing it back up. It squeaks as the glass is pulled back into place. His manga is left open on the table. You glance at it.

“Fire Punch?” 

He looks surprised as he scans your things, a flush on his face. 

“Oh, Uhm, yeah. You know it?” 

You nod your head. 

“Read it in high school. Agni is a cool protagonist.” 

All of a sudden he’s beaming at you. It catches you off-guard, but it makes sense. It’s an older manga and never got all that popular. He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I’ve never met anyone who’s read it. I uhm.. would love to talk about it. You know.” 

He puts your stuff in a plastic bag, with the tips of his ears going pink. Your eyes widen, and you give him a little grin. While you look like this, huh? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice. 

“You know I’m older than you, yeah?” 

He looks startled that you read through his intentions. He’s good-looking. Tall, with dark hair and a mole under his eye. 

“I know I look like a kid, but I’m 22.” 

“So, only a few years.  Not bad for looking the way I do right now. You got a thing for older girls?” You joke. 

“That’ll be 4,100 yen. And, not really. You just…seemed cool.”  He says, trailing off. You chuckle at him, looking at his nametag before offering him a look.

“I’m not, I can guarantee you. Getting hit on made me feel a little better though. Thanks for that. Do you want my number?” You ask, with a half-smile. His eyes go wide, then he nods hard. You laugh at him. 

It’s not like you have anything left to lose. 

“Got a pen?” 

He looks frantically around for a pen and then hands it to you. You give him the money you owe him first. When he hands you a receipt and change, you flip the flimsy paper over and scribble your number down on it. You grab the bag off the counter, pocketing the cigarettes and holding the rest.

Passing your number down, you pat it twice. 

“I can’t guarantee I’ll go out with you any time soon. But you made me feel better, so I’ll give you this. We can talk manga some time. and maybe catch a drink. You’ve got a good face, so don’t waste it on people like me.”

He looks at you startled but takes the paper anyway in a daze. You smile. He seems nice at least. Harmless. 

“Y-Yeah. Right. that’d be nice. I uh, hope your night gets better.” 

You can feel the melancholy all over your skin as you smile. 

“Thanks. Have a nice night.” 

You grab your things, turning to walk around. Almost unwilling. But if you stay any longer, you know you’re gonna end up letting yourself talk and you don’t wanna dump all that on a person you just met. Just before he goes, he calls for you. 

“Hey, uh - be careful. It’s kind of late. I’d walk you home if I wasn’t on the clock. There might be a hero around, so you know -” 

You turn your head, looking at him for a minute. Your chest aches at the thought of having people to call. 

“Thanks for looking out. I’ll be alright. Night,” 

You leave, with a hand in your pocket and another one curled around the plastic shopping bag. 

You should probably go back home. 

You keep walking, though. A bad choice, maybe. Instead of turning back onto that road, you walk down another one that you recognize, taking one left until you find a bench underneath a streetlight. 

It’s quiet. Empty. There aren’t any heroes patrolling but it’s a local road surrounded by houses and apartments. You don’t feel any danger as you sit down on the wood bench, brushing it once with your hands beforehand. 

It’s freezing. Your whole body is icy to the touch. A shiver tears through you as your skin comes in contact with the seat. It’s chillier than it was when you left. Your bag lets out a soft clunk as you set it down next to you.  You reach into your windbreaker for the pack of cigarettes and your lighter. 

Balancing the lighter between your thighs, you lean forward. With your elbows on your knees, you smack the pack of cigarettes against your palm. Your fingers tremble from the weather, the wind blowing in a hard gust. 

You don’t think about it. You use your keys to get rid of the plastic outside, and then open the pack up. The one in the middle of the top row, your hands shake when you take it.

You bring the end to your chapped lip, fishing for your lighter. It’s an expensive thing you got as a gift, engraved. It’s almost out of fuel so it feels light in the palm of your hands. Even so, you flick it open. You run your finger over the wheel, stopping when the flame flickers on. 

You bring it to the end of your cigarette, watching it burn. The orange-red glow soothes you. The fire keeps you warm. It burns, and you watch it burn - and with your lips closed around one end, you take a deep and long inhale. 

It’s been a long time. Longer than you thought. It feels raw.  Nicotine and menthol mix together making your lips tingle and your lungs sting. It tastes like tar and long nights — like a college party, like a balcony, like a place far from here. 

Like a time, far far away from this. You balance the stick between your fingers, pulling it away as you exhale the first drag. Blowing a cloud of grey smoke into the air, you lose yourself in it. You smoke and pass the time. 

You can’t feel anything but that. The adrenaline crawls up your spine and makes your fingers all jittery. You lean into it without even meaning to. Four years down the drain, you think. It would’ve been 5 in a few months

But you take another drag anyway. Your joints hurt. You smoke, and when the feeling is starting to make your stomach sour - you reach into the pack for a can of beer and drink that to soothe your nerves. 

Letting your head rest on the edge of the bench, you stretch yourself out. With a beer can on the ground, you ash your cigarette out. You stretch your arm over your face, the end still burning. 

For one minute, you really had forgotten. The interaction at the store helped. The cigarette helped. The sleep helped. The beer helped. 

But nothing was enough to make you forget it completely. 

You fear that things might always feel like this. That even time can’t stretch itself over a wound this big. Would there ever be enough to fill the sudden crater of a loss like this, to ever fix you? 

At some point, you’ll have to accept nothing can ever be the same.. 

For a long, long time - you cry by yourself. It’s not a desperate sob like it had been 2 weeks ago. It’s just an exhausted, soft little one. Somewhere, inside of yourself, you cry like a baby. Like a child aching to be held though part of you knows no one is there to listen. Self soothe, you say to yourself. Stop crying.

 It’s not like you don’t know how to be alone. What that was like. 

You just never thought you’d have to be again, and maybe you aren’t all the way. You’ve got a slew of concerned messages on your phone that you’ve been replying to automatically and you’ve been completely disconnected from everyone for a while now. 

Reaching out to them will help. In time, you know that. When you’re ready you will. You don’t have the luxury to let the pain linger for as long as you know it will, as it has to. Eventually, you’ll get back up. Even now, the days pass silently without you living them. 

You know everything there is to know. Of course, you do. You know what they’ll say. You know that they’ll feel sorry for you. You know Kirishima would’ve held you without ever hesitating. You know your mother would’ve welcomed you if you showed up without a word. Of course, you know. 

But knowing where a wound is, you’ve learned, doesn’t make it stop hurting it. Knowing the cause, the color, the shape, and the taste of your injury will never heal it. Your familiarity with your pain doesn’t do anything at all, to make it stop. 

You light another cigarette, sitting forward with your elbows on your knees. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you swear. 

“Fuck.” 

The memories suffocate you. 

You met them both while you were in college. When you were a sophomore in college, they’d saved you from a villain attack. They weren’t dating then, but they made conversation with you after you’d gotten a pretty big injury. 

You didn’t care for Bakugou at first. He was loud, mean, and crass. Midoriya has always been the same - friendly, awkward, genuine. Their friendship didn’t really make sense to you, like they spoke in a language you couldn’t ever learn. Midoriya always placated him. They looked at each other with a history that you never imagined having with anyone. 

You never thought you would see them again, so you asked. Sitting in the back of an ambulance getting patched up - they told you the story of them. Like they’ve told it a hundred times before. Childhood friends, they told you. They wanted to become heroes, it was rocky then it wasn’t. Midoriya gushed about Bakugou’s ability the whole time, and Bakguou told him to fuck off but blushed the entire time. 

You kept running into them, afterward. You were all convinced it was fate. They’d saved you 3 times before Bakugou told you to stop being an idiot with nothing but good intentions and maybe that’s when you knew you were in it. 

It was a long time. Not an overnight spark or sense of magnetism, not destiny. Just luck. Just chance that deepened and grew roots over time. You don’t remember much of it in full, just bits and pieces. Like a drop of water building an ocean - you can’t count for each time. 

You can name the rainstorms though, the floods, the days where it was clear they started to matter to you.  

And they mattered to you a lot where it counted. You went to college in a city far from your hometown, and you didn’t make many friends so you could keep up with your scholarship. College was mostly very stressful. You were just trying to keep yourself but you met them. And you think afterwards you started living.

You knew about them from the beginning. How they looked at each other, not realizing how obvious they made it that they loved each other. Perhaps hiding it after everything felt unnatural. 

You were content they wanted to be your friend. It was that simple. When they invited you out with them on their day off, you were confused but you always went. You were happy that they wanted you around. 

They never stopped showing up for you. They went to your stupid club events and made a scene. Bought you gifts for the years you were sure you’d spend your birthday alone. Texted you on their patrols, first individually then together. 

You learned to make your own friends too, but so much of your life is steeped in them. You thought, at first, that Midoirya took pity on you. You’ve always looked lonely. He was always the type to go out of his way for strangers. Bakugou just came along for the ride.

You realized later he never did anything he didn’t want to do. Even his admission meant that you were supposed to be there. 

Time passed. And the two of them, slowly, brought you into their lives. You met their friends and attended their big awards and major achievements while they did yours. On weekend horror movie showings they dragged you along, and during Hero Expo season you always got V.I.P passes. You never told them you only ever went to see them.

They were busy people. It took you a long time to let yourself be a part of that at all. You would always be on the outside, you knew - but they were good to you. You got on with them both so easily, more than anyone else you’d ever met and it— 

It felt special to you at least. 

You think somewhere down the line, you were content to be an outsider. Everything about them had become so comfortable, that you would’ve been content staying in that same place forever. As an outsider, a watcher, a friend. Just a friend. 

They started dating the year you were set to graduate college, and it really wasn’t all that different. Sometimes you caught them kissing, or hugging, or with a hickey on someone's neck but they treated you the same. Kept you at the same distance which wasn’t all that far.

It was in that same year, you realized you’d fallen in love with them both horribly.

Surprisingly, knowing that wasn’t all that bad. You knew it kind of instinctively when you realized it for the first time. It was shocking at first, but you were still content. You could swallow the ache in your chest seeing them happy. You were always an outsider to that, anyway. From the moment you met, there was history between them that would always surpass you and you knew that. Better than anyone. There was never a place for you to be, but you liked the one you had. You cherished that friendship so much you put it above your own feelings, for a long time. You had never met people who put you first so eagerly. Who went out of their way for you so often.

You like to believe they loved you like a friend. It helps to think that.

Four years. You’d loved them both, and so much - for four long years. You were just content to see them love each other because you could always tell they did. You wanted them to be happy.

Looking back they never put real distance between you both. You should’ve done that sooner. 

More than anything. More than yourself. From the start, maybe you should’ve guarded your heart more. You were always weak to them. They were the only people to welcome you so much to anything, but maybe you should’ve—

When they broke up, you didn’t know what to do. 

They’d always been.. together. For as long as you can remember. 

It was Midoriya who showed up at your door. You should’ve sent him home. It’s your own fault, for cramming yourself into a space never meant for you. 

He cried in your arms for two days and two nights. You felt sorry for him and texted Bakugou who told you to go fuck yourself. Whatever happened, neither of them would say or tell. It was serious. In the four years they’d been together, they fought but you never saw them like this. 

Even though you dated for 6 months, your time with Midoriya all feels very blurry. 

You blame yourself. No matter what anyone tells you, deep down, it would always be your fault. After those two days, he just needed someone to lean on.

It didn’t happen right away. Midoriya isn’t capable of that. It was after a few months of him visiting, of him dropping by, of him touching you. He leaned on you, even now - you don’t really know why.

You don’t really understand it but you think he must’ve mistaken the comfort you gave him for love. He’s only ever loved Bakugou so it’s possible he never really understood. You kissed, hugged, touched here and again but never had sex.

In hindsight, you’re glad about that. 

Months passed like that, in each other’s company. Midoriya came back after work and slept in your bed every night. You woke up together. But you knew, that whole time, there was an inevitable end. 

You always knew. When he hesitated when he looked at you. But sometimes, you got to see the melancholy go away. You watched movies and laughed, and made dinner together. There were enough happy memories to let you forget everything else. 

It’s funny. Loving someone so wholly you wouldn’t ask them to love you back. No one would believe you if you told them, but even knowing you were just a stand-in - you were content to experience affection for a while. Like you mattered. You liked being able to make him happy. 

You wanted Bakugou to be happy too, but every text you sent him got left on read. You called but never got a reply. 

You figured he might’ve resented you. You wouldn’t blame him. Truthfully, you question what you ever had. Maybe you deluded yourself into thinking tolerance was longing. You tried that whole time to get them together, but they did it on their own. 

He broke up with you after your new promotion. You never got a chance to tell him. The bottle of wine was still in your apartment. 

Just like before, he cried for a long time. Said sorry more times than you knew what to do. He called himself selfish, apologized, said he still wanted to be friends, that Kacchan missed you too. 

Over and over, he apologized to you.

You had always been an outsider. Even in your last minutes together, you comforted him when he cried. You didn’t know how to do anything else. You wish you felt contempt. 

You’re mostly confused. None of it made any sense. But why would it? You’re just a stranger caught in a storm, too big for your boots. 

It was when he said that one thing it broke you. 

“I couldn’t stop seeing him in your face. I’m so so sorry. I should’ve never—”

You think that was the first time it all collapsed. Nothing registered after. He didn’t see you, even once. Maybe neither of them did. You were just someone they had been nice to. You got involved in this all by yourself. 

You didn’t say anything to him. What would you have? All you said, very quietly at the end, was that you don’t want to see either of them again.

“Please respect that. And, I really do hope the both of you are happy.” 

You cried for 3 days. You took your first days off from work, and your manager didn’t question your paid time off. It’s been 3 weeks, and you haven’t spoken to anyone.

And now you’re here, alone - halfway through a packet of cigarettes and hoping your next breath will carry you out of here. It’s freezing cold, and you're numb all over. You blame yourself, and it hurts so much it makes you sick. You want everything to disappear. You want to scream, cry, curl in on yourself. 

But there’s nothing left for you to do or say. It’s all over, anyway. And it’s your fault for being greedy. For hoping that in the end, he would’ve at least seen you for what you were.

You’ve finished another cigarette. Your fourth one, which means you’ve only been sitting for 20 minutes. It feels like a century.

You wipe your eyes of stray tears, laughing to yourself.

“God, what the hell's wrong with me?”

Your throat is hoarse so you drink some more beer. You cool it on the cigarettes because you don't want to finish the pack before tomorrow. 

You don’t even get to check your voice before a terribly familiar voice catches your attention. 

You think for a second you're hallucinating.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Pro-Hero Deku, I’m doing some nightly patrols in this area. Do you need someone to escort you—“

Whatever higher power there is must be pretty sadistic. You hold your breath. 

He stops in front of you. You freeze up completely. It doesn’t even feel real when you look at him. You blink a few times trying to make sure you’re seeing clearly. 

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

His voice is so soft. The same as you remember. You swallow your discomfort, frazzled. Don’t be greedy.

You pick your beer can up, drinking the last of it before trashing it. 

“I didn’t know you patrolled here.”

You don’t have to see him to hear the frown in his voice. 

“…I usually don't. I’m covering for Mindjack, but that’s.. why are you out here?” He says, voice filled with concern. You don’t know what to say, so you opt to say as little as possible. 

“I live close by.”

He knows that. His frown deepens. 

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“I just wanted to get some air. I’m going home now, anyway—”

“Wait a minute, please.” 

You screw your eyes shut, back turned away from him. Every inch of your skin is burning. Your heart is sinking like it’s made of glass.

You sigh, voice trembling. 

“What do you want?” 

“Would you please turn around so we can at least talk face to face?” 

You don’t mean to say it. You don't mean to sound so bitter and broken and utterly defeated. The words slip out of you like a tire losing air. 

“Are you sure you know what it looks like when you’re not looking for someone else?”

He stiffens behind you. 

“Please,” is all he says. Like it's all he needs to say. All he can really offer.

You only turn around so he can bear witness to your suffering. Not that you want him to feel guilty but maybe it’ll make him leave you alone. Your eyes are red and swollen when you turn to face him, hands in your pockets. You don’t look at him. You’re afraid to. 

“…Have you been smoking?”

“Yeah.” 

“But you were clean for—”

“It’s none of your business what I was or wasn’t, Midoriya.” 

Midoriya. Not Izuku. Your stomach twists.

“Please don’t be like this.” He says, sounding desperate. 

You smile. It's sorrowful. Everything is tangled and messy and confusing. Like everything was a lie, and you were the last person to know. You don’t get it anymore. Your voice comes out, worn and gentle. 

“I always knew it would end. I was never under the illusion that you really loved me. That either of you did,” You start, voice breaking. It’s cathartic. 

And if this is really the last time, you should say what you wanted. 

“Of course we—why wouldn’t we—“

“I always knew you didn’t really feel that way.  It was just… nice to feel like I was important. No one in my life ever went out of their way for me like the two of you did,”

His voice breaks. 

“Y/N, please”

“I was always afraid to call you my best friends. It’s funny but it never felt right. Kirishima and Todoroki - they were your best friends. What was I, then? I never knew.  You were always each other’s. And I was there, and we were so close. But I never really fit. It never really made any sense,” 

He looks like he’s crying. You wish you could comfort him and you hate yourself for wanting to. 

“I mostly feel pathetic. I think that’s all. I have nothing to show for everything I went through,” You laugh a little under your breath, wiping your tears “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t so eager to feel loved. To love you in what capacity I could. Maybe things would be different,”

You reflect on your life with them. All that life you lived with people who you probably won’t ever see again, they’re easy enough to avoid. 

“It might be better if we pretend that we never knew each other. That way, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Kats—Bakugou won’t have to acknowledge me. And I can forget it all together,” 

“I don’t want to lose y-you, and Kacchan he—” 

You shake your head with a smile. Now that it’s all out, it feels clear. Of course, they loved you. 

Just not enough.

 Really, that’s all it's ever been. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

You think this time, you’ll really be able to move on. He doesn’t reply, but you can hear him hiccup. 

“I loved you both for four long years. That whole time. I was so happy we got to all be together, it didn’t even hurt. I don’t regret a lot of it. Maybe just those six months, and maybe not being able to see Bakugou. I miss him. I miss you too,” 

You breathe. It finally feels alright to do it. 

“But, I don’t want to see either of you ever again. If you’re in an emergency you can come to find me. I think it’s about time to move on,” 

You can hear him calling out for you when you turn around. Asking to walk you home, but you know he won’t follow you. You just keep walking and don’t look back. You turn the corner and head down the empty street. Back home by yourself. 

On the way, you smoke another cigarette. You keep the pack in your pocket. 

You let go. 

It’s just about that time, anyway. 

__ 

Weeks pass by like their nothing.

Your confrontation with Midoriya knocked some of the sense back into you. You came home, cried for 15 minutes, and then took a long shower under hot water. Afterward, you put on some nice lotion, replied to emails, and picked out an outfit for going to work tomorrow. 

Slowly but surely, you tried to get your life back in order to some degree. You threw yourself at your job since that made the most sense to you, working over time. Being alone with your thoughts for too long has proved to lead to drinking or smoking in excess, so you hang out with a crowd where you can.  

You met with your friends, all of which have supported you completely but only yelled at you for isolating yourself, to begin with. You visited your parents where your dad threatened to knock Midoriya’s lights out, claiming he was still very strong. The sentiment made you feel warm. 

You climbed yourself back into something of stability. It’s not like you’re over it. You feel considerably empty and fall into random fits of crying more often than you like  and you still smoke whenever you feel the stress of a long day overtake you. But it’s notably better. You’re hanging on and you hadn’t really been before. 

Some days are worse than others. Sometimes you pass a street vendor you used to frequent and have to sob over your steering wheel before going home. You see them in the news so often it’s starting to be funny in a dramatic irony sort of way - like the universe wants you to remember they exist. 

You’ve been careful to avoid them, though, it’s not as easy to avoid their friends. Kirishima got choked up when you ran into each other, making you promise that you’d keep in contact. In the last few weeks, you’ve seen Jirou, Todoroki, and Shinso all of which seemed happy to see you doing okay. 

It was nice. Knowing that they were your friend too, and not just someone who saw them by extension. No one really asked any invasive questions so you figured word got around. 

It’s been alright. You’ve been okay at best. It’s mostly been lonely.  You’re just trying to live with it, and you’re thinking about seeing a therapist just to get yourself sorted. 

Today is a Wednesday. You switched out one of your days off to accompany Ganache to the vet for a routine check-up. It was early in the day, so you had the rest of it to yourself.

Lately, you’ve been texting the guy from the convenience store. His name is Akio, and he’s an exchange student. You mostly text back and forth about manga, and he does a thing where he sends you selfies where he ends up being. He’s cute and a good enough distraction from your misery, plus he’s actually pretty funny when he calls or texts.

You lean back into your couch, picking your feet up to get comfortable. You’re freshly showered and hairless after the impulse choice to shave. The TV is playing some daytime soap that you’re not normally home to see, and there’s a cold beer on a coaster waiting to be opened. 

You swipe open your phone after receiving a text. It’s him, studying for an exam. That makes you laugh. 

(from akio, 2:45pm): long day OTL 

(sent 2:46): it’s my day off. do your best and maybe we can go drink. 

(from akio, 2:46): wait really? 

You laugh. 

(sent 2:47) only if you do your work ❤️

(from akio, 2:48): ON IT. where do you wanna get drinks? 

You conjure up a location, close-by where you leave - sending him to it. You watch him type back with a laugh. 

(from akio, sent 2:48): im suddenly very busy and im gonna finish studying. see you at 6?

(sent: 2:9): see you at 6 

He sends you a slew of very excited emojis and you bite your lip. Admittedly, you feel a little guilty. Though you’re careful to make your intentions clear, a guy so eager to even be in your presence is a nice change. A little harmless flirting has been good for your self-esteem and he’s a great guy. Him being younger than you isn’t as deterrent when you check his Instagram  and find out he’s very jacked. 

You feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing and all the time. But it’s nice to be wanted and send risque selfies to get a hesitant reply. It might be good to sleep with him, get your mind off of it. 

You only ever dated on guy in college and hooked up with a couple of people that you can count on your hand. Your relationship was nice but not memorable, and you broke up over a disagreement about finances in your junior year. After that, you went on sparse dates to keep up appearances. 

But it felt wrong to even try when your heart was in other place. So now, you’re just being careful and having fun. And it is fun.

Maybe you can get laid. He seems like he’d have good stamina. 

You cover your own face in embarrassment at the train of thought, giggling.

“Fuck what am I even thinking about?” 

You shake your head like you’re trying to shoo the thoughts away. You reach over for the beer on the table, shivering as the cold can comes in contact with your skin. Undoing the tab, you take a long sip - warmed by the taste. You don’t even know what flavor this is supposed to be since it was a gift but it’s expensive and malty. 

You drink and watch the T.V. A girl caught in a love triangle with two male leads. Both of the male leads are rich and powerful, and the girl comes from a small town. You snort. 

“Get out of there while you can, little lady. Save yourself.” 

You don’t know how long you sit there and melt into your couch, watching the TV and scrolling on your phone. Doing something productive feels out of reach for now and you’re comfortable passing the day like this. You haven’t really had a normal day of relaxation that doesn’t devolve rapidly into feeling sorry for yourself, so even being able to sit around be lazy without any other pretense feels luxurious. 

You think you spend 2 hours like that before your body signals you that it needs fed. Ganache comes up to sit on your lap, accompanying you while you order something to eat. Your finger reacches out for her little head, scratching just under her chin. 

“You’re getting hungry too, huh?” 

She lets out a soft purr before plopping her head against your bare thigh. You smile, perusing what feels like hundreds of options. It always feels like picking a place is the hardest part. 

Trying not to be paralyzed by choice, you jump out of your skin when you hear the doorbell ring. Your cat hops off of your lap at the noise. With furrowed brows, you try to think about who would be ringing your door without dropping by first. 

You ordered a new air purifier for your room last week. Maybe it came early? You would’ve got a notification from them, wouldn’t you? You shake your head. Either way, you’d prefer to have it instead of having to pick it up from the post office. 

On pure chance that it is that, you stand up and dust yourself off. Pulling your shorts down slightly, you grab a zip-up hoodie from the side of your couch making sure nothing is falling out. You pad softly to the door, unlocking it. 

“Hello?” 

As soon as you open the door, you see the last person you were expecting. Everything just sort of.. stops in it’s place. For a minute, you don’t breathe. You don’t think. You just… tense. And stare, your hands on door knob. Debating whether or not you should even open it all the way, or say anything. 

You would close it if you didn’t see his face. You’ve never seen him look so tired, and seeing that makes your heart drop into your gut. 

“...Bakugou?” 

He looks up and then looks at you. His shoulders sag in what seems like relief but you can’t be certain. 

“What are you…?” 

He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again like he’s come up short on the right words. He’s not in his costume for work, and his hands are in his pockets. He’s bigger than you by a mile, but he looks.. terribly small. Maybe frail. Not like himself. 

“Hey.” He says, short  and quiet. His hand reaches up around his neck “Can we talk?”

Your gut reaction is to turn him down. You’ve made all this progress, and you think that letting him in through the door would be ruining it. But he looks so depserate, and that looks so unusual. He doesn’t look angry, and that scares you. 

You don’t mean to let him, but you owe him that much you think. Answers for those 6 months. He was blameless for everything that had happened between the two of you, anyways. You open the door, stepping to one side. 

He looks at you, a pained expression passing over him before stepping in. Your breath catches, quietly watching as he takes off his combat boots. Ganache meanders over to him. She was always fond of Bakugou. You watch the two of them interact and you feel your heart rip in half. 

Your entanglements show in ways you don’t expect. It’s too much.

He wears the house slippers left out for him, almost out of habit. And then he looks at you for a minte. You snap out of your trance, scratching your cheek. 

“Oh, uhm. You can… sit. Did you want a drink maybe? A beer?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to be so damn courteous to me,” He says. Your expressions softens, heart squeezed in your ribs. The disparity settles in the bottom of your lungs, crawling up your throat like a bile. It’s still so early in the day. You can see his expression so clearly. So obviously melancholy. 

You choke around the words. 

“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be,” You say. You offer him a half-smile. It’s true. You never really had any reason to be angry with him. If he hated or resented you, it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it. 

He closes his eyes than looks away, silently walking off to your living room. You follow him, sitting diagonal to him. You stare at your feet, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. Fidgeting. 

You don’t know how long you sit there. The TV is muted, so you direct your eyes to the soaps - trying to avoid the obvious. 

Bakugou breaks the silence first. 

“You’re smokin’ again.”

His voice of devoid of anything you can read. You look at the ash-tray on the table, before you nod. 

“Yeah.” You reply simply. He leans forward on his elbows. 

“...You haven’t smoked since college grad.” He says. You smile. 

“Yeah.” 

You’ve been alone with Bakugou before. Engaged in quiet, comfortable silences. Midoriya normally did the talking for you, so the two of you were accustomed to letting him ramble. Alone though, you normally just enjoyed each others company or talked in depth about something you found important. 

When he wasn’t blowing a fuse, you found Bakugou intelligent and practical. You talked about a lot of things, like money and the failings of the Hero Commission and the news. Stuff people found boring, he would normally have something to say. He was always opinionated on everything. Movie, music, books. 

You haven’t seen him in over half a year. Not in person, anyway. It’s hard to avoid the number one and two hero in media as it would be. 

“I don’t wanna kick you out or anything. Uh, we have a lot to talk about I guess. I just—I’m going out for drinks at 6 so—” 

He cuts in abruptly. 

“With who?” 

You pull back. 

“...A guy I met the other day.”

His jaw clenches. Irritation passes over his face as he scrubs a palm over it. He looks upset but you can’t figure out why. 

“Have I met him?”

You shake your head. 

“Probably not. He’s in college. Met him while I was buying cigarettes, actually.” You muse, feeling fond. “He’s a good kid.” 

“Are you—Are you interested him?” 

Your eyes widen, staring at him. His voice is holding something in it, half-way between anger and sadness. You don’t really understand him or why he seems like that. Does he think you’re moving on too fast from Izuku?

But that doesn’t feel right to you either. Maybe seeing you happy is upsetting. You don’t know. 

“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking. We just.. talk. Flirt, I guess.” You say, shaking your head. You turn your attention back on him “Don’t know why that’s important. What’d you wanna talk about?” 

His eyes widen, and then his face fall. You’re more confused than before. 

“Don’t know why that’s important huh?”

You watch him. His face after you’ve said that. He looks upset. Part of you thinks you’re imagining it. But you’ve never seen him look like this. He buries his face in his hands, swearing. 

“Fuck this.. fuck this is—”

You decide to interject. 

“I don’t know why you’re here but since you are I wanted to say… I wanted to say sorry. I figure that’s why you’re here. That it’s related to that somehow, but before anything I wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

It’s been on the tip of your tongue. Weighted, heavy on the inside and impatiently trying to pry itself from between your teeth. Your words come out in a jumbled mess. Part of you can’t help but expect rejection. You sit here, and stare at him and you think to yourself that you’re sorry. 

You understand Midoriya at times like this. But you won’t say it more than once, fearful it’ll be a burden to you both. You just spit it out. Like a loose tooth. The blood comes after, filling your tongue with bitter taste of iron.  

Lately, you’ve lost the words for heartache. Ache as in bruise, as in hurt that’s lingered for a long time. Your heart aches terribly, and every passing day feels like being trampled on. You look at Bakugou when you say sorry, and your heart expands into the stiffness of your ribs. And it hurts all over, like one raw injury. Lately the taste of your suffering is a cigarette and beer. You wonder what that says about you.

You feel something thick in your throat, looking away. 

“Why the fuck are you saying sorry?” He asks, voice shaking with anger. You wince. 

“For everything.” You say, griefstricken with every word. You feel your vision get blurry, looking away as you try to take the tremble out of your voice “Sorry for everything, Katsuki.”

You try your best not to cry but you can feel the gaping hole reopen in your chest. You wish this was just a reunion. The longing is so sharp and so endless. It wasn’t like Midoriya. You didn’t have memories to help you cope. You never got a chance to tell him thank you or i love you. 

He had always made it clear he didn’t want you around, but you still.. still found yourself clinging to his tolerance. To the fact he was always the first one to reach for you. That he listened to you intently and pushed you to do what you wanted. 

Midoriya was soft. Comfortable. Bakugou was tough. He held you steady through all your stress. Cleaned your apartment when life was too much to bear and picked you up at your lowest without a word of judgement. 

And in the end you touched the one thing that was never yours. You thought it would be okay because you hadn’t seen him for 7 long months in person. It would’ve beem if you hadn’t seen him again. 

But he’s here just the same. And you love him. You love him so much, so deeply, and all at once you feel consumed by the reminder. It burns inside of you hotly. The tears flow naturally. 

Don’t be greedy, you tell yourself. This is the universes way of reminding you of what you did. There was never any place for you.

“Hey, fuck. Sweetheart, stop cryin’. Please just fucking look at me, can’t stand seeing you cry,” 

You can’t stop yourself from wailing. It’s ugly, and loud, and horrible. No matter how much you try to clamp it down, it spills from between your fingers and stains everything. Your whole body shakes with it. Hiccuping, you swallow a noise of distress. 

“I didn’t m-mean for it to end like this. I didn’t want—I didn’t want to hurt you, either of you I just. I got selfish a-and I—fuck, I got greedy. I never meant to, I didn’t want this.”

Before you understand what’s happening, you feel a body around you. 

Strong arms. Bakugou’s arms. He’s standing up to hug you, and you can feel him trembling when he pulls you to him. Your heart squeezes, but you don’t let yourself sink. His hands cup the back of your head, and you sob softly into the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck. I’m such an idiot. Please stop crying, sweetheart. Please.” 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry” 

For a while, you can’t do anything but weep. Bakugou doesn’t let go of you. He’s never been good at comforting people, but his grip on you is tight. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like that, sobbing into his arms with your fingers in his shirt. 

Your head feels messy, throbbing when you finally manage to stop. You pull away, your eyes swollen. You lick your lips, chapped before pulling back. 

“Thanks for comforting me.” You say, pulling away. You try to anyway.

Bakugou cups your face in his hands. It catches you off guard, the feeling of his calloused palms. He lifts your face, examining you. Your mouth parts in confusion, as you feel his thumb running under your eyes. 

“All fucking wrong. We did this shit all so fucking wrong.” 

“B-Bakugou?” 

He doesn’t let go of you. Just looks for a long time. 

“Bakugou?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

“Why’re you..?” 

“I missed you.” He says in a murmur, soft and uneasy and so regretful it stuns you “I’m so fucking sorry. We whoulda never—I’m gonna kick that shitnerds ass, swear.” 

“You…what?”

He lets go of you, then runs a hand through his hair. 

“You should.. text your friend or whatever. We should talk.” 

Bakugou looks at you apologetically, handing your phone. You watch him disappear into your kitchen, pouring you a glass of water and handing you some tissues. You don’t know what to say, completely dazed. You send Akio a text, making an excuse about a work emergency and saying you’ll drink with him this Saturday. 

Bakugou hands you the glass, leaving your tissues on the coffee table before sitting right where he was. 

For the first time, you’re completely at a loss.

“I don’t understand.” Are the first words out of your mouth. Bakugou gives you a laugh. 

“With the way shits been going, don’t know why you would.” 

“D-Did something happen between you and Midoriya?”

He frowns. 

“Fuck, no. Promise no stupid shit this time. Izuku just told me I should come talk to you.”

“…He did?”

He smiles at you. 

“Yeah, he did. Not like I’m any better at this shit than he is, but he said you weren’t gonna listen to him,” He pauses, turning away from him “Said you never wanted to see him again.”

You look at your lap, listening to the sound of passing cars.

“I thought it’d be for the best. It’s uhm.. It’s hard for me to see either of you. You know,” 

There’s a tense look on Bakugou’s face when he stares at you. You’ve never seen it before.

“…Did you mean what you said to Deku?”

Your throat constricts. 

“A-about?”

“About your feelings. For the both of us, you said—“

You feel your heart race, uncomfortable.

“…Does it matter?”

“Matters a hell of a lot.”

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. Over and over, the word sticks to you. Don’t get greedy. You want to say nothing. To close your eyes and deny it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

You feel your sense of stability crumble the instant the words leave your mouth. Like a sandcastle collapsed under the tide, you melt into unease. 

Your eyes sting with fresh tears that you hurry to wipe away. You don’t even know what they’re for. 

“Hey. Stop, look—it’s not what you think, alright? The feeling is mutual, but you've gotta listen to me.” 

Your eyes widen. Looking up again, you frantically look at his face then shake your head. Did you mishear?

“It’s what?”

“It’s mutual. We both… it’s a lot to explain alright? But from the beginning, it’s been mutual and it wasn’t some freak accident you ended up in our lives. I don’t want you thinkin’ that” 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You shake your head. 

“I don’t…I don’t get it. From the beginning? You say you both have feelings for me, but I haven’t seen you in 7 months. A-and I-Izuku said—” 

Bakugou grits his teeth suddenly. He looks sharp, vicious. 

“Ignore what that half-brained idiot said, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” 

You sit back, unsure of how to proceed. You want to be shocked, or even angry but all you feel is confusion. You fiddle with your hands, and hear Bakugou sigh over his. His voice sounds exhausted. 

“All those months ago, when Izuku and I got into a fight… we were fighting over you.” 

The world comes to a halt. You choke on a gasp of air. Bakugou doesn’t pick his head up to look at you. The sun shadows the shame on his shoulders before you get a minute to speak. His face softens, then regret sifts through. 

He looks tired. Terribly tired. 

“It was because of me. Izuku… he realized how he felt early on. How we both did. He brought it up to me and I just…froze. I didn’t know what to do.” 

You hold your breath as you watch his face. 

“You…?” 

“We fought about it. I blew up on him, and he wouldn’t back down on the whole thing. I was scared outta my mind. Me.. and Izuku - it took us a long time to get where we were.” 

You laugh a little at that, scratching your hand. 

“Yeah I know.” 

He lets out a puff of air. 

“I bet you do. It freaked me out. It wasn’t like… I didn’t realize. We fought and I told him to go fuck off and be with you then. I regretted as soon as I did, but he walked off. Left me alone for a while.” 

You frown. 

“I’m sorry. You didn’t… I didn’t want that for you. I was a-always worried about you.” 

He gives you a light-hearted scoff. 

“I know. I got every call and text, sweetheart. Truth to be told, I would’ve lost my fucking mind if you hadn’t. That whole time.., you were looking out us both. I was still pissed, so I threw myself at my job. Saw Deku and got into some altercations.” 

This surprises you. It makes sense. It’s hard to avoid each other, you’re sure. You wonder why Deku never told you, but all those days he came home extra upset - maybe it was that. 

“I had no idea.” 

“With the way you texted me updates, I figured he didn’t tell you. He’s a shit-head like that. Keeps everything in and then lets it all out. He forgets that he’s a human being sometimes.” 

“It makes sense but…what happened? How’d you get here?” 

“We had a big fight and made up, eventually. I hadn’t really thought about anything. I was working over-time to avoid it, but I was so angry all the time I didn’t feel like myself. Shitty Hair and them kept me calm.” 

“Kirishima cried when he saw me,” You say in a daze. Bakugou laughs. 

“He was pissed at me when I told him everything.” 

“Kirishima was?” 

“You think he’s nice like the rest of ‘em but he’s scary as fuck when he’s mad. He didn’t let me hear the end of it for fucking up. And I’m…sorry for that. For fucking this up.” 

You shake your head at him. 

“I don’t blame you. I still don’t really understand it, but I should’ve pushed him away. My feelings were getting in the way, and I didn’t think about how I was—” 

“Hey. Stop that. Get this through your head, you didn’t do shit. Izuku leaned on you because he fucking cares about you.” 

“But he said—” 

“We’re not complete without each other.” 

Everything stops in an abrupt manner. His words are muddled, like they’ve been shaken around in his heart for much longer than you thought. 

“Izuku doesn’t know his own feelings. He thought that I was right. He thought he just misunderstood himself and he’s always been like that. He’s not good at knowing his own shit.” 

And then, you think you see him cry. You don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen Bakugou Katsuki cry but his eyes look red. 

“We tried. To go back to how things were, we tried so fuckin’ hard sweetheart. You never wanted to see us again and I was too damn stubborn to admit to myself not getting your texts was breaking me. We tried.” 

You swallow the feeling in your throat. You’re so disoriented. 

“And..?” 

“It didn’t work. We couldn’t stop arguing and it wasn’t like before. We were both on edge all the time and we both knew why. Izuku realized his feelings after you left. And I couldn’t deny that the idea of never seeing you again fucking broke me.” 

You don’t think you could cry anymore if you tried, but you manage. 

“I just… it doesn’t feel real. You two have so much history. Without me. A whole life together and there’s no space for me to be involved. You love each other so much, how could you love me too? How could it ever compare?” 

“How could we not fucking love you, sweetheart? All those years together. You kept us grounded for how long? I never knew what it meant.. whatever bullshit Deku talked about saving people. But then we met you and I would’ve done anything to keep you safe.” 

“Katsuki,” 

You don’t even know what to do anymore. What to think or believe.

“Deku loves you to death. I can see it on his face. He loves seeing you with your dumbass cat. He loves listening to you recite lines from movies.”

“And you?” 

“And I’m here trying to convince you I’m still worth your time. I can’t do all that sappy shit. This is all I got.”

“You’re doing fine.” You say with a smile. He smiles back. 

“I feel like I’m gonna puke right now.” He admits. 

“I’m just scared. None of this feels real to me.” 

“When that shitnerd and I got together, I couldn’t get my head around it for 3 days. I was terrified of what that meant for me. Being vulnerable with people is terrifying and I still can’t stand it.” 

“Yeah.” 

“But if I never confronted my fears, I would’ve been alone and blind for the rest of my life. Shit gets bad. You fuck up and fight and things are hard - but it’s way fucking better to fight with people you love than it is to by yourself with your misery. Life got easier when I let myself feel my feelings and whatnot.” 

“You sound really wise.” 

He laughs under his breath. 

“Don’t be a dick.” 

“I’m being serious. You sound so mature and stuff.” 

“And stuff? You been hanging around that college brat way too much.” He says through gritted teeth. You laugh. 

“He’s nice, Katsuki.” 

“He can kiss my fucking ass, corrupting you with his bullshit—” 

“He is not doing that!” 

“You think I don’t see your legs shaven? You’re a shit liar.” 

“It was coincidence. I was gonna sleep with him though.” You say the last part a little quieter. He immediately gets mad again. 

“The hell you are.” 

You give him a smile, crinkling your nose. 

“Jeez, it’s not even your business, you know.” 

He groans. 

“My hearts too weak for that right now, yeah? Be fucking easy on me.” 

You look down at your lap, unsure of what else too. Your voice is hoarse so you reach for the glass on the table. 

“Sorry. Just… processing, I guess.” 

Neither of you talk for a long while. It’s just.. silent. It’s starting to get dark out, but not enough that it’s noticeable. The sunset is just teetering around the skyline. You take a deep long breath, tapping your foot. Picking the skin on your fingers. Fighting the urge to smoke an entire packet, you take a long breath. 

“Hey.” 

You lift your head to look at him. He looks nervous. 

“Is it okay if I… fuck, like would it be okay if I kissed you?” 

You nearly cough up a lung from shock. 

“Would that be okay? Wouldn’t Izuku be—” 

Bakugou gives you a little grin. 

“He got 6 months. He’ll get over it.” 

You squirm a little in your chair heart. Heart-racing. 

“...T-Then, it’d be okay. I guess.” 

“C’mere.” 

You feel shaky when you stand to your feet. Awkward. But as soon as you’re in reaching distance, you feel Bakugou’s hand touch yours. His hands are nice. Smooth and long and nimble but calloused on some parts. Irrevocably warm, when they wrap around your pointer. 

“If I do something you don’t like, headbutt me,” He offers. You frown at him, 

“I’ll tell you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

Without word, you feel him touch you. One hand busies itself with your hands, palms running up the back side of your forearm, then over the top before opening your hands to him.  Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie with it and exposing your skin to cool air. He touches you quietly, thoughtfully passing down until he’s holding your hand. Not with your your fingers intertwined, but cupped against yours in a silent, gentle reprieve. 

The other hand rests on the back of your thigh before brushing behind your knee and staying there. He’s just holding you, and there’s nothing especially risky about it. But it leaves you a mess, enough that you can’t even look at him. 

He tugs you to him. Spreading his legs, shifting to help you into his lap. Like a lamb to shepherd, you follow. Too dazed to protest him, he looks up at you and you look down at him. He brings your hands to his chest, and you slink them around his neck. He leans you forward until you’re only a few inches apart, breath mingling. 

He smells like smoke. You take a deep breath, studying his face before realizing his doing the same to. His eyes are outlining your mouth. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” He tells you. 

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head. 

“You made me like the smell way back. Used to think it was awful.” 

“And now?” 

“Now it makes me lightheaded.” 

“Like you wanna kiss me?” You tease. He takes a deep breath. 

“So fucking bad.” 

“Kiss me, Katuski.” 

“Mm,” 

His mouth is soft. You think that first. Even as your bodies so desperately and almost wholly on instinct, your skin starting to buzzy faintly. It’s so utterly blissful all you can think to feel is that he’s soft. He tastes sweet. His hands are the back of your thighs squeezing tight and you want them forever. You like that he lets you lead a little, and you take pleasure in touching him. 

Squeezing the back of his neck, you thread your fingers gently through his hair. Soft and ticklish against your fingers - he lets out a moan when you squeeze at the root. You did again and he does it one more time. Something warm unfurls in your stomach, starting to unwind like loose thread. 

“You sound pretty like that.” You tell him once you pull away. He shivers. 

“You’re gonna put me in an early grave,” 

“So you’re just gonna let Izuku become number one?” 

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen all day. It looks so familiar on him, your chest feels like it’s being crushed. 

“Not a chance in fucking hell.” 

“That’s the spirit, Katsuki.” 

“Speaking of.. we should probably invite that lewd nerd over here.” He says, burying his face in your neck. You hug him close to your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. He’s gonna cry the whole damn time. Been losing his shit all day.” 

“Poor Izuku.” 

“He’s gonna cry when you call him that too. Cried about being Midoriya for 2 whole days.” 

“He’s such a baby.” 

Bakugo smiles into your neck. 

“I’d cry too.” 

__ 

You wait for Izuku to come back to your apartment at your front door, with Bakugou clinging to your shoulders. 

Nothing much had happened since your kiss. You and Bakugou laid together and made-out to pass the time - watching TV and quietly catching up.  When Izuku sent you a text about being 5 minutes out, you decided to wait at the door to greet him. 

You feel like the whole day has been one long dream. Seeing Izuku, you think, will make it feel more real.

When you hear the nob of your front door turn, you look up at Bakugou with excitement. He looks down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, his voice a soft, excited murmur in your ear. 

“He’s gonna cry right away.” He says, hushed, tone light. Amused. You elbow him. 

“Don’t be mean, Katsuki.” 

Your breath hitches when you do see the door open. He looks a little disoriented when he passes the threshold into your apartment. His dark green curls are messy from the wind and he’s all out of breath like his heart is racing. 

You smile at him as soon as he lifts his head up to look you. His lower lip trembles with immediacy, hands flying up to his face to catch the tears already threatening to spill. You feel Bakugou squeeze a little tighter around your waist, smiling into your neck.

“Welcome home, Izuku.” 

“Oh god.”

You forget how big he is until he runs forward to tackle you both in his arms. You hear Bakugou fuss over you, something about you damn crybaby being mumbled. But more than that, you feel the familiar warmth of Deku. Izuku and Katsuki, all together. He smells like the sun and sweat, , it’s familiar and comfortable. Like home. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his midriff. You melt into the touch, as easy as it always been. 

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I love you.”

When he pulls away, he’s already blubbering. His skin is a blotchy, familiar red and his eyes are watery. He looks down at you like you aren’t real. He’s the tallest of the three of you, so you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him. 

Familiar. Your hands touch base at his chest before running up, cradling his face in your hands. You swipe the tears from him, giving him a biggrin. 

“I missed you, Izuku.” 

“Oh god, oh god—Can I?—Wanna kiss you both so bad, missed you so much, I’m so happy.” 

“Slow down, you idiot. You’re gonna scare ‘em, jeez.” Katsuki says, but his face betrays him. You can see that he wants that too, when you look up. They both look at you expectantly, and you nod. 

Izuku kisses you first. It’s just like him, terribly overwhelmed. He tastes mildly like salt, maybe from all the tears. He grabs your face and presses your lips to you like the world will end if he doesn’t. He does it once, pulls away, and does it two more times just to be safe. You giggle when he pulls away, looking at you in your eyes. 

“We should t-talk properly, but I’m so so sorry, I just—” 

You look at him. The scars all over him. The splattered freckles along the bridge of his nose and his dark lashes. You shake your head. 

“Later,” — You offer, fingers slipping under his shirt — “Need you both.” You say, a little quieter. 

This makes his eyes go wide before he pulls back completely, covering his face with hands. You hear Katsuki laugh behind you. 

“Lewd fucking nerd.” He says, with a terrible amount of affection. Izuku’s voice goes raspy. 

“Shut up, Kacchan.” 

“Oh that’s right. The two of you never went all the way, right?” 

You flush this time.

Katsuki  nips at your neck with his teeth, soft and playful. 

“You’re gonna make him cum in his pants, sweetheart,” 

You feel something tickle in the back of your throat. 

“I thought you weren’t… uhm. You know. Into me.” You admit. Izuku’s eyes widen so far his brows touch his hairline. Katsuku shake with laughter behind you. 

“You got no idea how fucking gross he is. Haah, that’s funny. Not into you my ass.” 

“Kacchan!” 

Before you register it, Katsuki whispers in your ears. They’re making eye-contact with each other with you sandwiched in the middle. They’re both so much. Too much for any one person to handle, you don’t know how you’re going to do it. 

Katsuki’s voice is smug. 

“Reach your hand out. Go on,” 

You do as he says, convinced you should. You want to. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before but never fully. You never really did anything, you just… 

You touch it. Touch him. Your whole body goes hot as you feel something heavy in the palm of your hand. thick. It twitches against the material of his pants. Above you, Izuku shudders. His whole body shakes slightly. 

“I didn’t even…”

“You think I call him ‘lewd nerd’ for fun. He’s a pervert, sweets. It’s just how it is.”

Your heart races. Fuck, what are you getting yourself into right now? 

But it feels right. And with the both of them over you, the warmth of their bodies and strong forms - you can’t help but want to fall into it. You close your eyes, look up and glancing at both of them. 

“I wanna do it.” You whisper, low. You feel your skin prickle with heat. Izuku groans and Katsuki chuckles. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

__

From the moment you stumble in your bedroom, everything around sort of disappears. 

You’re quick to lock the door behind you, to ensure your cat doesn’t follow you but the moment you’re in - you’re practically surrounded. The energy alone is enough to melt your spine. Izuku carries you in his arms and Katsuki trails behind you, giving you a vicisious grin that makes you wetter than you know to handle. 

It’s all very messy and desperate, trying to situate yourself into the bed. They keep you in the middle the entire time. At times like these, you’re grateful for the investment you made in your firm mattress. The two of them alone take up so much of the once roomy king-sized you find it hard to breathe. 

You’re sitting on your legs with Katsuki mirroring you, behind you. Izuku hovers over you like a shadow. Your head feels jumbled with everything surrounding you. The first thing you feel is the shape of Katsuki’s mouth. His lips are tender and soft, pressing into your shoulder blade. You let out a fluttery little sigh, unsure of what to do. 

It’s disorienting as much as it’s hot. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, two people who are wholly enigmatic without each other. Together you’re like stars colliding. Or maybe, yu’re the world between them, keeping them at bay - squeezed by the matter of their existence. Katsuki’s hand travel under your t-shirt, his hands squeezing your waist. 

Izuku tilts your head up to kiss you first, then reach over your shoulder kissing Katsuki. You think, sometimes, you like seeing them kiss more than you like being kissed on your own.

“You’re so pretty… She’s so pretty, right Kacchan?” 

He does an affirmative hum behind you. Heat rips through you, as Bakugou’s hands reach up. He cups your tits, bare underneath the fabric of your shirt. His chest rumbles with a groan, thumb, and pointer tweaking your nipples till they're hard. You let out a soft mewl. 

“Fuck.. fuck look at that.” 

He’s not talking to you, but to Izuku who’s watching you both with a shadowy expression. His eyes suddenly look dark. Terribly and utterly focused on your tits, where your nipples peek through your cotton white t-shirt. You would’ve worn something cute if you had the time. Thank god you showered at all, though you don’t think either of them would care. 

Instead of answering, Izuku tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You feel Katsuki behind you, lifting the material up. They work together well. You raise your hands to let it to taken off, feeling shy you try to tuck your chin. Izuku’s quick to draw you back, using his hand to turn your head with a gentle force. He’s soft, but authoritative. It shakes you to your core. 

“Hey. None of that okay. Keey your eyes on us.” 

“What he said, sweetheart.” 

You gasp a little as your bare skin touches the cold air. Goosebumps raise in patches all over your body. 

At a loss for words, your eyes follow Izuku in his movements. How he scoots back on the bed, then dips his head down. His mouth is a surprise - he kisses down your sternum and with no warning at all - gropes your chest like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. 

It’s different from before. The way he squeezes them in his palms, pushes them together, watches them move and spill between his finger. He’s taking his time to explore you with the single-minded focus he always gets. His tongue planes over the hardened buds, around the creased skin before sucking the whole thing into his mouth. 

You throw your head back, mouth open in a quiet gasp. Katsuki slowly slides your hands over your navel, across your stomach. Around your middle, his fingers fidget with the waist-band of your shorts, before dipping into the line. Your thighs squeeze instinctively, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

It’s too much. You whimper a little as Izuku pays attention to your tits, your body flaring upr. Izuku is shameless in wanting you. His eyes are so focused on your every move, and his hands feel so impossibly big. It feels like he could eat you, swallow you - the way he touches you so shamelessly. 

You’re so aroused.  Wet enough that it’s soaking your cotton panties all the way through. It’s humiliating when Katsuki touches just over the seam, how his finger soaks on the damp spot. 

“You’re making her so wet, nerd.” 

“Really, Kacchan?” 

“Fuck, yeah. She’s soaked. Feel good?” 

The last part is talking to you. Izuku rubs your nipples with his thumbs, hands cradling your sides when you nod,

“Feels good.” You say back, halfway panting. You open your eyes up to look over at Izuku, then look back to Katsuki “I want you guys to take it off. Too many clothes.” 

Katsuki laughs behind you, and you feel him pull away. Izuku places a kiss on your hairline. You scoot over, away from them, and watch them as you get undressed.

Your eyes land on Katsuki first. You’ve seen Izuku naked before, almost completely. You’d never seen Katsuki, so you watch. He catches you staring, giving you a little smirk before he turns over to you. 

“You’re a freak too. Gettin’  off on watching me strip.”

You lean back on your palms. 

“Should I tip you?” 

He laughs. 

“Fuck off.” 

He takes it off a little more deliberately. Your eyes follow the curves in his body. The two of them are so stupidly jacked. Katsuki is a little leaner in his make up. His strength is concentrated in his back muscles and his arms. You see it when he reaches over his head. He’s lithe, smooth everywhere else but his arms are pure and almost brutish. It’s so sexy on him. There’s only one big scar on his body that you already know the story of. 

You don’t even realize you’re staring at him until you hear his voice, smug as he calls you over. 

“You wanna touch it?” 

You nod, a little sheepish about being caught. Crawling over to him, you’re standing on your knee.. Izuku watches the two of you, out of the corner of his eyes. His lower lip is tugged, pressed under his teeth. 

You let your fingers do the guiding. You start at his waist. He looks at you, intent. He’s artwork, you fight the urge to treat him rough - your fingers tracing over his obliques. Gently grabbing him, you trace all the way up the natural lines of his body, Even without flexing, you can see his physique. Your palms plane over the muscle of his back and arms before curling around his shoulders. 

“You’re arms are so nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

“And you’re…” 

Words escape you when you look down. His chest.. fuck. Katsuki is pale everywhere. His nipples are pink against his skin, noticeably bright. The cold season makes him pale where as Izuku is always tan. His chest is so fucking big. It’s so distracting you lose whatever you want to say. Your hands drop then reach forward, and without so much as a choice - you squeeze the fat of his chest between your fingers just like Izuku had been before. 

Izuku comes up behind you. The two of them share a look you don’t have the mind to pay attention  to. 

“Kacchan has nice tits, doesn’t he?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Deku.”

Your mouth feels so dry. 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“They’re sensitive.” Izuku tells you, voice thick. Revenge, or something along those lines. It piques your interest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Flick them. He likes it.” 

When you look at Katsuki’s face it’s strained. A warm shade of pink dances over every inch of his exposed skin, and he’s holding his breath. Oh, you think. He wants this. 

You flick his nipples and watch as his whole body crumbles forward. He drops his head on his shoulders, as you tweak and play with them. His voice is raspy, teeth gritted. 

“Fuck, y-you’re evil. Fuck, there.”

“Pick your head up, Kat.” 

He does so. He looks.. soft. Pretty. His eyes are a little glassy. You lean forward, letting your mouth close around one of his tits. He cries out, wobbly. Izuku is quick to keep him steady, hands reaching around to his hips. 

“You learn fast.” 

You hum sucking on each of them. Katsuki is a mess over you. His body is so hot, and you can see his cock against his clothes. You stay like that, the three of you stood on your knees with just enough space to tease and touch. Your body relishes the contact, mind-swimming. You indulge your desires to explore, tentatively testing the boundaries. 

You pull away briefly saliva making his tits shiny. He looks at you, dazed. 

“Can I leave marks on either of you?” 

“Freak.” Katsuki says. You flush. 

“Should be fine. Kacchan is wearing his winter costume, anyway.” 

You nod your head, then let your tongue lave over Katsuki’s neck before biting and sucking. You leave it a little under the collar, low enough to be easily covered. He lets out a soft hiss. 

“You’re so touchy with me. Gonna leave Izuku out to dry?” 

You laugh, rubbing your cheek into his pec. Grabbing his ass, he gives you a little scowl but doesn’t tell you to stop. 

“I never got to touch you. I touched Izuku at least.” 

You feel Izuku’s chin on your shoulder. 

“Kacchan’s right though, I feel neglected.” 

Izuku’s arm closes around your waist. You turn your head slightly, enough to see him behind him. 

“You want a hickey too?” 

Izuku buries his face in your neck. 

“Mm, maybe,” 

“Are you both usually this needy?” You ask amused.

“You would be too if you were us, y’know?” 

You think on what he’s said. Surrounded by the warmth of their bodies, you laugh. 

“You had each other,” You tease. Katsuki scoffs and Izuku sounds like he’s whining. They’re both cute when they act like that. 

“Like you didn’t have your fucking boy-toy.” Katsuki spits, petty jealousy clear in his voice. Izuku suddenly gets very tense and pulls away. 

The utter devastation in his voice makes you feel a little bad, but another part of you feels vindicated and kinda happy they care. You hide a smile. 

“...Are you seeing someone else?” 

“If I was?” 

Izuku makes a face you can only describe as heartbroken, making you burst out in laughter. 

“Izuku, I was just kidding! Stop looking so sad.” 

“You’re so mean.” 

To think you could bring the number one hero in the country to tears fills you with silent pride. Katsuki pipes up behind you. 

“She was gonna fuck him. Her legs are all shaved.” 

Izuku gasps scandalized. 

“Who even is he?!” 

“A college boy,” You interject, dropping your head onto his shoulder “He was flirting with me when I went to buy cigarettes. Akio.” 

Izuku frowns deep and frustrated. 

“Sounds like a jackass.” 

“He’s a nice kid, Katsuki. I’m still gonna get drinks with him on Saturday, anyway.” 

Two voices shout at you at once. 

“What?” 

“The fuck?” 

You break out into a fit of giggles. 

“I promised I would if he studied.” 

“And you’re gonna go and tell the kid that you’ve got two great boyfriends at home right?” 

You grin a little. The possession in Katsuki’s voice is tangible. Izuku is silent but you can practically feel the frustration off him. You hum, pretending to think. 

“Is that what you two are?” 

“You’re so fucking evil, baby. Evil.” 

You shrug. 

“Dunno. The role of ‘significant other’ was vacant for a long time. Think I should give it up so easily?” 

Katsuki sits up, leaning forward and trapping you between them. Your heart leaps. 

“Wanna know what I think?” 

You nod, Katsuki’s eyes sharpen. 

“I think it’s a bad idea to provoke two heroes who could run laps around you, yeah?” 

You look up at him, smiling. 

“All that stamina should be put to good use, then. Earn your title, heroes. Sound good?” 

“You’re such a tease.” Izuku rasps behind you. You look up to see him, eyes cloudy. 

“I’m nice to boys who deserve it.” You say on a whim. Both of them react in a way you can’t predict, shock first then lust right after.

“Need you now.” Izuku says through a breath. 

“How do you want me?” 

“Want you to sit on my face. Want Kacchan to suck my cock.” 

The way he says it makes you reel. You look at Katsuki. He looks.. obedient. It’s the only way you can think to call it. Excited. Your insides twitch. 

“Fuck.” You groan “I want that.” 

“Kacchan?” 

“Shut up and take your dick out, nerd.” 

His demeanors cools you off a little, but it’s not enough to stop the anticipation growing. The three of you suddenly move in haste. There’s enough room to move around, bed creaking as everyone adjusts to comfort. You watch Izuku lay down flat on the bed, the whole thing dipping under the weight of his body. You’ve seen him naked before, but it’s always a sight to behold. His whole body is covered in freckles, dense around his shoulders and his thighs. 

He’s strong everywhere. As jacked as someone at his height could be, to deal with the burden of his quirk. Even so, the strongest part of him are his legs. Thick, muscular thighs that make your whole body go alight. He’s covered in scars of different sizes, smaller around his waist and middle. Dense on his arms and chest. 

There’s hair on his stomach and over his pecs. Above his cock, well-trimmed and neat. 

You feel your mouth go dry seeing Izuku’s cock sitting between his legs. You’ve never.. not like this. Your eyes are focus on it, trailing down the line. He isn’t cut, and the tip is darker than the rest. It does a hard curve left.

It’s so thick. Your stomach does a flip ar how unfathomable it is just looking at it. 

“Nerd’s fucking hung, isn’t he?” 

“You’re so big, Izuku. How do you even…?” 

“You scared?” 

You nod soft, and the both of them laugh. 

“Worry about it later. Want you to sit on my face.” Izuku tells you. His tone is so agreeable, crushing your remaining barriers. Welcoming. You squirm a little thinking about taking it, but resign yourself to his request. You crawl over to him, situating your thighs on either side of his face. 

Katsuki observers you for a minute before sitting between Izuku’s legs. You can tell from his confidence that he’s done it a hundred times before. There’s something about the position, the feeling that you’re getting off on each other that has your core feeling tight. Izuku puts his hands on the tops of your thighs. 

For the first time, you’re fully at a loss. Katsuki gives you a grin when he realizes what you’re thinking. Your eyes are glued to his form, his physique. The curves of is body when he gets on his knees and arches up. Your heart thuds against your ribs desperately. The blood is rushing into your ears, your hand tingles with nerves.

Izuku must know where you’re focusing too, because his hands gently squeeze the tops of your thighs. He doesn’t take you down, or even move. His breath fans against your sticky cunt.

“Wanna see me suck cock so bad?” 

Whatever over takes you is unspeakable. He just makes it sounds so good. The words die off in your mouth. You’re so wet, hyperfocused on the visual. Katsuki wraps his hands around the base of Izuku’s cock, and from under you there’s a moan. The realization hits all at once like a bulldozer leveling a city. You find yourself sinking under the crushing realization of what you’re doing. They’re pleasuring you, and each other. All together. 

The thought alone makes your head spin. 

“Keep your eyes on me. Don’t close ‘em, since you wanna be a fuckin’ pervert. And nerd,” 

“Hn?” 

“Don’t let her cum if I tell you she’s closin’ her eyes.” 

You can feel his smile under you. 

“Good idea, Kacchan.”

You gasp. Mumble something about them being evil, but the words don’t register. Without another minute of hesitation, Izuku all but drags you down to him. 

The moment you feel Izuku dart his tongue out, you think the world from under you falling. You want, desperately, to close your eyes. It’s not like you’ve never had someone go down on you. 

But Izuku isn’t just eating you out. He isn’t even really doing it for you. There’s a drunkeneness to it that has your thighs squeezing around his head. His hair tickles your skin and you’re so close you’re sure you’re suffocating him.  His arms secure themselves around your thighs until you’re trapped in his grip. His tongue is gentle for a briefly,  if only to welcome you the sensation.

 But right after, with only a second between, he sucks his clit into the heat of his mouth. It’s so shameless it startles you. Your jaw hangs open, and your eyes squeeze shut. Your facing forward. You can feel the ridges of his nose, the point of his chin as the full weight of your body drops onto his face. Your hands fly forward, splaying on his chest to give yourself some semblance of balance. 

Izuku moves like he isn’t thinking about anything other than tasting you. The drag of his tongue, muscles moving against your clit makes your toes curl. You bite your lip to cut off the sounds threatening to leave you only to give up minutes later. 

“Ngh, ‘zuku—” 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” 

You struggle but listen. Blearily, you set your focus on Katsuki. The feeling of Izuku and his ruthlessness adds to your delirium. Suspended, you watch Katsuki work Izuku’s cock and feel like you might really die. The visual impact is enough to send you tipping over an edge more quick you ever have in your life and the intoxicated way Izuku’s latched onto your pussy makes you feel like giving in. 

Katsuki is watching you back. This stuns you the most of anything. His eyes, red and fixed, are hard and looking at the place where your pussy meets Izuku’s chin. Even as he swallows around your cock, he’s looking at you. Meeting your gaze as he slides is tongue under the swollen head of his cock, flicking the tip. He’s only got one hand, placed carefully on Izuku’s thigh for balance. 

But the other is fisted around his cock. His cock. Long, pink, leaking in his palms. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Izuku moans under you, into you. Submerged in the feeling of euphoria, you let out a pathetic cry. Katsuki watches you. His gaze is like splitting atoms, an impossibility happening infront of your eyes. All at once, you take everything in to process. You take Katsuki dipping his head down, his pinks lips stretching around Izuku’s cock. His eyes, stuck on your silhouttete as he takes it down the base without so much as a gag - the drool dripping down onto his chin in the same way you’re doing into Izuku’s face. 

You take in the sight of him pulling off, mesmirzed by how much he’s taken. How good he is, how sloppy. Izuku is too, and something occurs in your head that maybe this is another way they mirror each other. The messy way Izuku eats your pussy, with his tongue and the whole of his mouth. With ridiculous fervor, with hazy determination. 

You can’t take your eyes off of Katsuki. You’re consumed by the way they both make you feel, and you want to reach across to kiss him. Leaning forward, you rock your hips against Izuku’s tongue. 

You want to kiss him. You’re going to kiss him. 

“Katsuki,” You breathe out, voice broken. You rut yourself against Izuku’s face again this time, harder, clit rubbing hard against his tongue. He lets out an appreciative little moan, that encourages you chase your own high. 

Balancing on Izuku with one hand and leaning forward, you reach your other one around Katsuki’s neck.

You kiss him. Over Izuku’s cock at first then around. The realization of what’s happening makes him moan into your mouth. Finger tangled in the blonde hair, you kiss him with tongue. The gesture is utterly absent minded. It’s greedy. You can’t help but want everything all at once and being apart from him is making you agitated. 

You make out around Izuku’s cock after you feel sorry enough. Fucking yourself into his mouth, hips rocking - you take it upon yourself to join Katsuki. Whenever Izuku feels it, his fingers dig into your legs. Little crescent shaped indentations appear from how hard he’s gripping, how much he’s whining against your cunt and sending waves through you. 

You’re so turned on, it’s hard to clear your head. Riding Izuku’s face with complete disregard, helping Katsuki suck his cock. The both of you around his shaft, trying to kiss each other while pre-cum stains the exchange. Everything feels like it’s blurry, like a motion shot - a picture taken with a moving subject.  

You’ve held out for so long - you don’t have a chance to warn Izuku as an orgasm approaches you a full, frightening speed. Raggedly, you cry out his name. Katsuki groans, stopping to fix his eyes on your face. 

Izuku makes a sound of appreciation, helping you fuck onto his tongue in the rhythm you did before. You hold yourself just barely. 

All at once, with everything fibre of your being - you find yourself cumming. It doesn’t feel like any orgasm you’ve ever had before, not ever in your life. Like a bow and arrow, your entire body goes taut before the string snaps hard. All the muscles in your body freeze then release, the tension replaced with an unending wave of euphoria. 

It feels so fucking good. So good you can’t breathe. 

“O—Oh, fuck. Fuuh, fuck.” 

You cum and can’t stop. Even as you try to pry yourself off, Izuku holds you down. They both stop in their motions, glued to you. Something warm and desperate starts to rush. A warbled warning comes out of you. 

“I-Izuku, it’s—” 

All at once, you lean completely bacl another brief wave of release hits. You can feel it. Fuck, you’re—

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” 

You reel all the way back as you squirt into Izuku’s mouth - left to listening to him swallow it down. An audible gulp sends your stomach in knots, and you nearly fall. If Izuku wasn’t holding you, you would’ve. 

You collapse forward again, this time completely. Wiggling your hips away. 

Izuku lets go of you. Gasping for a breath of air immediately as you pull away, you see his cock twitch. Your cheek pressed against his navel, you take a minute to collect yourself. 

“Oh my god. You two are going to kill me.” 

The room is almost completely silent. 

“...Have you ever?” 

“I didn’t even know I could do that.” 

Muffled underneath you, you hear Izuku. 

“Can I please get a warning the next time the two of you  decide to go at me at once? I almost came.” Izuku whines. You share a look with Bakugou before breaking out into laughter. 

“Be fucking grateful nerd, Fuck that was so hot. You have a mean streak, sweetheart. Pulling my fucking hair.” 

You laugh shakily. 

“You suck dick like a champ, Katsuki.” 

He snorts. 

“Shut up.” 

For a minute, silence stretches between you. You squirm slightly, before frowning.  Appreciative it’s comfortable despite the intense emotions left to linger. 

“I was the only one who came.” You say thoughtfully. 

“To be fair I almost did. I was flexing my muscles to stop.” Izuku admits. You giggle at the bit of honesty. 

“Katsuki… wanna make you cum. Both of you, but it doesn’t feel fair,” 

“I had fun, don’t worry. I dunno about the nerd, but I do wanna fuck you.” 

Even after doing something so insanely sexual, a flush crawls up your spine. 

“I..I want you to fuck me.” 

“Wanna fuck you too,” Izuku says underneath you. You wiggle your hips, closing your eyes. You feel a little guilty, even suggesting it. 

You flop onto your back, pulling away from Izuku. With your legs kicked up, you cover your face with your hands about what you want to suggest. 

“I… uhm. The both of you could.. fuck me at once. If you wanted to.” 

You’re almost too afraid of opening your eyes when you hear Katsuki pipe up. 

“Holy shit, are you serious?” 

You roll over, away from them. You try to anyway. 

Before you know what’s happening, Izuku is sitting up. Like you weightless than piece of paper, he flips you over and grabs you until you’re situating his lap. Katsuki sits up, behind you. His chest is pressed against your spine. The two of them look at you hard but you keep covering your face. 

Izuku swallows the spit in his mouth, starting at you. 

“Do you mean.. like.. the both of us? At once?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“...You ever taken it in the ass before, sweetheart? Shit aint easy,” Katsuki says in something akin to earnesty. 

You laugh warmly. 

“In college.” 

Katsuki snorts. 

“Fucking really? With your dweeb ass boyfriend?” 

“Kacchan.” Izuku tsks, though you’re sure they share the same sentiment. You nod. 

“Anyway, I have. A-and it.. that way we’d all be super close, yknow?” 

Katsuki groans. 

“Fucking hell,” 

“What Kacchan said.” Izuku says, blowing an amused puff of air through this nose.

“It’s not a big deal,” You grumble. Katsuki laughs. 

“Hearing our newly acquired significant other say they want us to D.P. them is a big deal, idiot.”

“You’re so vulgar.” 

Izuku smiles at you both fondly, absently reaching a hand out. He cups Katsuki’s face in his palm, looking down at you. 

“We have to prep you really well. And if it’s too painful at any point, you have to tell me or Kacchan, Okay?” 

“Mm…Okay. Love you, Izuku.” 

He splutters. Katsuki clicks his teeth behind you. 

“Love you too, Katsuki. Love you both so much.” 

“We love you too,” Izuku says, alreacdy on the verge of tears. Katsuki laughs. 

“What the nerd said.”

You relish in each others company for a while, soft and leaning into each other. After everyone’s caught their breath, Izuku pats your thigh. 

“Do you have lube?” Izuku asks. You laugh, nodding. 

“Top drawer of my vanity.” 

Izuku pressed a kiss to your temple, getting up. 

“Okay. Get comfortable and lay down, Kacchan, lay with her.” 

“Not the boss of me, shitnerd.” 

Despite himself, Izuku gets up to get your things and Katsuki does as he asks. You get yourself comfortable in the bed and your blonde boyfriend follows suit. He lays down close to you, turned slightly to face you. 

He puts a hand out, running his middle finger along your jaw until your face is pointed to him. The proximity is comforting, your eyes following his lips. It’s an awfully  tender gesture when he kisses you, softly pressing his lips to yours. You make a little sound of approval into his mouth, making him grin. 

“Nervous?” 

“A little. Two at once is a lot” 

He snorts. 

“I bet. Just relax yeah. We’ll start with the hard part. Should make it easier.” 

You give him a little smile, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“You make anal sound very romantic.” 

“You fucking saps are rubbing off on me. Do you know how you want us?” 

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment. It’s not like you don’t have an answer. 

“I want you inside and Izuku in.. y’know.” 

He gives you a playful grin. 

“You a masochist or something?” 

“Shut up,” You say weakly, tucking your chin “Just seems like something he’d be into.”  

“Guess you’re not wrong about that,” 

Like you’ve conjured him from thin air, Izuku returns to your bed with a familiar  bottle of lube and some condoms. His face looks unusually red as you watch him get back on the mattress, settling in between your spread legs. 

“Izuku?” 

He stops for a minute, startled. 

“You… have so many sex toys.” He says. Your eyes widen before you break out into a laugh. You thought you’d be embarrassed if anyone ever saw but for some reason, you mostly find it funny. 

“You serious nerd?” 

“More than the two of us combined, Kacchan,” 

Katsuki turns to look at you, leaning in to give you a giggly kiss. 

“Nasty.” 

“It slipped my mind, You found what you were looking for though, right?” 

He gives you a nod, holding up a bottle of lube - nearly full. You ran out a couple of weeks ago.

Izuku puts a palm underneath your knee, your breath hitching. He looks at you seriously for a minute, thumb rubbing a circle into your skin. He gives you a look. 

“Tell me if it hurts. I’m gonna go really slow, ‘kay? And Kacchan, keep her comfy.” 

“Got a good idea for that,” Katsuki says. You look at him curiously. 

“Keep your eyes on us, sweetheart.” 

Nodding, you lift your legs a little higher. You hold yourself up, nails pressed into the back of your thighs. Just like Katsuki insists on, you keep your eyes on Izuku. He looks determined as he flicks the lid open. The lube is shiny as it pours onto his fingers in a thick, clear stream. Warming it up, he looks down. You’re conscious of his gaze, the way you’re so bare and exposed. You can feel how spread out you are because of the position. 

Izuku rubs the ring of muscle first, before doing anything else. You squirm at the sensation. It’s not unpleasant, but it isn’t pleasant either. It just feels a little intrusive as he touches it, rubbing along the creased skin. 

“Relax, love. Don’t think about it.” 

You try to follow his words, so you turn your attention to Katsuki. He gives you a mild look before you feel his hand reach out, groping your tits before sliding his palm down your body, squeezing you gentle. 

“When he pushes in, take a deep breath and exhale. And don’t worry about anything else.” 

You nod, feeling him inch closer to you. He kisses you this time, soft. His hand keeps going lower and lower until you feel a finger against your puffy clit. It aches from his fingers. You try not to move. 

“Good?” Katsuki asks.

“Little more to the left, please.” 

He hums at the feedback and does as you ask, rubbing your clit just enough to take your mind off of everything. You find yourself relaxing involuntarily from the pleasure. While your head is busied with it, he kisses you. Engages you in making out, taking time to suck on your tongue in the way he’s learned you like. It’s a messy kiss, too drooly than you think someone like him would be comfortable with. 

But the contact feels good, feels nice. Your pussy responds to each of his gestures noticably, a dull throb growing inside from the ache. You want to be fucked, and you’d take it in whatever way you can have.

“Don’t squirm, baby.” Katsuki says, pulling away from you in a pant. 

“Hard,” You say simply. He laugh, biting the roundest part of your cheek. 

“Sooner you’re prepped, sooner we can fuck you.” 

“Gonna push in okay? Take a deep breath.” 

You nod. Katsuki keeps you steady, breathing with you as you feel Izuku push in his middle finger in. It’s a just barely there sensation. You’re expecting some pain, but there’s nothing more than a dull sense of discomfort. You let out a long, deep breath, until you feel him reach the first knuckle. The prep is relatively uninteresting, but you can feel a stretch. A mild, sensitive feeling of invasion. 

But it feels.. dirty? Forbidden, somehow and that’s making your breath hitch. The both of them are staring so hard at you. Katsuki keeps rubbing your pussy to keep you at bay. You hiccup.

“Okay?” 

You nod. 

“Doesn’t hurt. Just feels… funny.” You say. Izuku breathes a sigh before he very slow pulls the finger out of you. Your heart pulses, a sense of relief when he takes it out that leaves you curious. Your eyes widen. Katsuki takes notice of your expression. 

“Feels nice?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

Izuku goes a little faster this time, a little harder. When the motion is fluid, he’s careful to add another finger. You feel lube drip down onto your ass, the thick and sticky sensation. Katsuki leans into you. 

“Deep breath,” 

You listen, breathing deep as another finger joins him. This time the stretch is more noticeable. Izuku leans forward, kissing your knee where you’re holding it up. 

“Pretty little hole,” Izuku muses. Your eyes go wide from embarrassment when you hear Katsuki snicker at you.  Izuku doesn’t stop his mumbling, fixed on how your fingers suck him in “Can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Lost in a haze, his eyes flick up to you with a smile. It’s so disarming it startles you. You lean back. 

“Okay, baby?” 

“You’re s-so dangerous.” 

He frowns. 

“Why do you say that?” 

Katsuki scoffs above you, making you feel marginally better. You take another breath as he repeats the motions of before, slowly fucking into you. You feel your ass give as you get comfortable, your body no longer instinctively resisting the sensation. You feel yourself stretch and stretch and stretch, but it doesn’t feel the same as being torn open. There’s something strangely familiar about the gesture. 

Katsuki touches you through it. Teases your clit with his fingers and brings you to the edge, always stopping before you can cum. Despite your protest, you get the feeling it’s to help you cum while you’re getting fucked but not before then. You let out soft little moans of pleasure and the way Izuku is starting to fuck you open on his fingers is finally starting to feel like something besides funny. 

You look down at Izuku, who gives you a half smile. Something deep in you aches, it’s a sensation you haven’t felt in a long time. Bone-deep desire to be fucked and filled and close together leaves you oddly emotionaly. 

“You, okay? Think you’re ready?” 

You feel yourself squirm against Katsuki’s hand, who’s busied himself by cupping your pussy with his palm.

“I’m ready. Want you in my ass, and Katsuki in me,” You tell him. His eyes widen before he lets an involuntary groan. Sometimes his predictability is charming in it’s own way. 

“Yeah.. yeah. Then let Kacchan get underneath you, and I’ll get on top. Sound okay?” 

“Mm,”

It takes a minute to switch positions again but eventually you end up where you want. Katsuki lays comfortably on the mattress, head propped up on some pillows. Rubbing his cock with one hand lazily, he gives you smirk. 

“Hop on?” 

“Oh fuck you,” 

A laugh bubbles out of you as you crawl ontop of him, throwing your legs on either side of his hips. You hover over his cock, getting comfortable as you feel his hands grab your ass and squeeze, pullin them apart without shame. He’s got the same look as always, a cocky looking smile as he pivots his hips and rubs the head of his cock against your folds. Shuddering, you wrap your hand around the base. 

“Sure you don’t need prep?” 

You nod your head, biting your lip as you guide the head of his cock down a little lower. You feel Izuku behind you. 

“No condom?” 

“Wanna feel it.” You reply. Katsuki groans under as you guide the head to your entrance. You take a deep breath as you start to sink yourself on it. Going as slow as possible to make sure it doesn’t hurt, Katsuki does a hard hiss underneath you. His head tilts back, mouth open in loud moan. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as you finally push yourself to the last inch. 

When you bottom out you sigh, the familiar and pleasant sensation starting to ensnare you. Eyes heavy, you look at Katsuki who looks like he’s having a hard time keeping his head above water. Your hands go on  his chest. 

“Katsuki?” 

“I’ve never—holy shit—” 

“You’ve never done it like this?” 

“Bakugou lost his virginity to Kirishima and I lost mine to Ochako. So he’s never…” 

Unable to help your shock, an idea pops into your head as you lean forward. He feels so fucking good. He’s got a curve just upright that sits nicely inside of you, keeps you full and touches you in all the right ways. Beneath you he’s trembling, unable to shake the feeling. 

“Katsuki,” You purr, breathy as you lift your hips up. “Does that feel good?” 

“H-Holy fuck. Fuck, baby—you’re so wet. Feels like you’re gonna melt me,” 

With a little effort, you do an intentional squeeze around him. His eyes shoot open, gasping for air. 

“D-Don’t—You little shit. Squeezing me like that, stupid brat.” 

He holds your hips down where you stop, giving you a look that’s only half angry. 

“I’m just making you feel good.” You maintain. His hand comes down on your ass hard, making you laugh. 

“You can make me feel good without trying to milk me, fucksake. Slow down and let Izuku in,” 

You give him smile, leaning forward. Katsuki gets what you’re trying to do almost immediately. His hands squeeze your ass again, this time spreading you apart intentionally. You can only see from the corner of your eye because you’re squished into Katsuki’s chest - bare chest on his. But Izuku shoots off a deep, guttural groan as Katsuki offers him a smile. You feel his chin atop your head. 

“Don’t make her wait long, dweeb.” 

It happens just like that. Izuku approaches you, cock in hand and situates behind the two of you. You take in a deep breath when you feel the tip protruding against your hole. Everything… halts. Like the sound of something, a faint quiet before everything hits the ground running. You’re already stretched, already full with cock. Your head can’t wrap around taking anymore but still, Izuku persists. He grabs you with great strain, and pushes his cock into the tight ring with a choked cry. 

All three of you react to the feeling. He’s not even all the way in, but the deep sensation and pressure has you reeling already. Katsuki lets out a yelp. The both of them are grabbing you, anchoring themselves as Izuku pushes himself just barely inside. A tight fit wouldn’t even begging to describe it. You feel plugged up completely, from the inside. 

“C-Can I…? Can I please—” 

“Move, Izuku, move.” 

And he does. He does it slowly, at an awfully slow pace like he’s trying to keep you all the way together. Brain full of static, you’re absolutely fucking astounded. He pushes in a little more, and the heavy weight of his cock feels like it’s sinking. You can feel his cock against Katsuki’s inside of you. They both feel it at the same time because underneath Katsuki is twitching. Letting out pants, face strained and absolutely fucking out of it. 

The room is filled with a wet, sticky sort of noise as Izuku moves himself. He checks in, pushes when you confirm, and does it for what feels like ages until you feel his navel against you. He’s inside of you, completely inside of you. You feel… complete. It’s so fucking unbelievable. It feels like being torn apart, ripped in half. A sensation you couldn’t imagine existing. 

All while feeling incredible. It’s deep enough to push the air out of you, out of your lungs in a ragged breath. Your body goes limp, sweaty between the two of them. 

“Baby, baby, you feel incredible and K-Kacchan, can f-feel Kacchan in, Kacchan’s cock you, feels so good, love you both, love you so much—wanna move, can I? Can I move baby, need to—” 

“Fuck me,”

Like they do everything, they work together in sync so seamlessly in breaks you. Katsuki gives Izuku room to thrust first, letting him control the pace to make sure you’re not hurt. The feeling of his big cock, fucking your ass when you’re already so hopelessly full, is making your body feel completely limp. Every single nerve of pleasure that could be touched or toyed with is being rubbed against. Pleasured from the inside out, your mouth is fallen open in a silent scream. 

You’re all so close. You’re face is tucked into Katsuki’s neck where you can hear his every breath or moan or cry. Izuku is draped over you, his chin over your shoulder - mouth against your neck and licking the sweat off of your skin. One of your hands is on Katsuki’s chest, and the other is reaching around for Izuku - for something of him to hold onto. Your vision is blurry, and the world outside is finally starting to sink into the night.

 Room painted in an vibrant orange daylight, you’re soaked in pleasure that feels hedonistic. The violent waves of pleasure leave you feeling like kindling - the thing that makes fires burn. The first time you cum from this, you don’t register it completely. The bliss of the experience isn’t concentrated. You feel the dull throb of desire - starting from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. 

You cum, the first time, without any intention. The forces around make it happen and the way you squeeze makes both men have to stop completely as you ride out your high - the feeling of it overshadows your first orgasm. 

It’s an out-of-body experience. You start to see your vision go white, and when you’re finished - you feel the two of them start to fuck you again. This time it’s slower, more deliberate as they try to drag the feeling out.

Izuku wraps a hand around your waist, sticks between your body and Katsukis. You feel his fingers on your clit, wincing. His voice is soothing, gentle. 

“I love you. Want us all to cum together. I love you so much. We’re so close. One more, okay? Just one more.” 

“I love you, sweetheart. Love you too, nerd. Give us one more. Together?” 

You don’t know what it is. It’s a weird fucking time to get all emotional, all worked up into nothing. Still, you find yourself nodding. It’s a strange time to think you’re so in love but you’re so worked up, so blissful like you’re being cradled by the golden threads of the sun. Warm all over your body in as much measure as you’re burning with lust. The feeling of their bodies, of Katuski placing kisses on your skin and Izuku pressing himself to your cheek. 

Izuku panics when you cry, but you reassure him that you’re fine. And you are fine, completely and utterly fine. There’s just something terrifying about being loved at such a magnitude - being able to do something like this at all without any pretense or fear. The mutual sensation of trust and all the pleasure.

Everything that happened, the life you’ve lived so far that once felt blurry comes to you with clarity. Like clear water, your love appears in front of your eyes, and it appears clear. It was never worthless. Never meaningless. Always meant to be, and always purposeful. The two of them have loved you with so much intention since the beginning, and it’s taken this long to take it in. To realize. 

With a shaky, soft voice - you warn them. 

“G-gonna cum.” 

You let go this time, pure relief running through. A few more short thrusts have them both following suit. Feeling them twitch inside of you at the same time makes your heart feel strangely full. It’s all a little stupid, but when the adrenaline starts to settle - you can’t help but smile. 

The room is completely dark as the three of you lay together in the silent aftermath. Your eyes  feel heavy as you fall forward. 

__ 

You don’t wake up till the next morning. 

It’s a little disorienting, truthfully. The sun isn’t out, instead the day is wrapped by comfortable clouds and cool rainfall. You don’t even know the time as you finally get yourself up - though you’re both naked and clean. 

Sitting up in your bed, memories of last night return to you swiftly. Your lower back throbs painfully. You laugh, putting your hand on it while you rub your eyes. Looking around your room, you find a stack of clothes with a note on top. 

“In the kitchen. Get dressed and come join us.” Written in Katsuki’s handwriting. 

Standing up to stretch, you rub the remaining tired out of your vision and throw out what clothes have been set for you before unlocking your door and stepping out into the living room. 

You’re surprised to find the both of them still there. Izuku is pouring cat food for Ganache, while Katsuki is at the stove making something that smells nice though you aren’t sure what it is. 

You hear Izuku first. He turns around to find you dressed, his face breaking out into a smile. Without a warning, he picks you up and spins you around in his arms. You let out a squeal. 

“Ah, Izuku! Wait, I haven’t brushed my teeth,” 

“Don’t care. Kiss! Kiss!” 

You can’t help but relent to him as he carries you effortlessly in his arms. He places kisses all over your neck and face before kissing you on the lips. You get comfortable against him, surprised by how sturdy it is. He rubs his face against you as he carries you on one arm, dragging you to Katsuki who looks at you a little unamused. 

You lean over to kiss him on the lips which he returns with soft smile. 

“You fucking idiots better sit down to eat. Swear to god.” 

Instead of answering, you kiss him one more time. He rolls his eyes but returns the gesture before busying himself back with the food. 

Izuku eases you on the counter instead of either you going back to sit. He stands between your legs. 

“Thanks for making breakfast. What time is it?” 

“11:32,” 

Your eyes widen immediately, as you scramble up. 

“Shit, I have work today.” 

Izuku stops you, looking sheepish. 

“No you don’t.” He says, looking away. 

“Huh?” 

Katsuki grins, flipping over the rolled egg with a self-satisifed laugh, 

“Sometimes,” He starts, pouring more egg into the pan “Being a Pro-Hero has it’s perks.” 

You immediately start into a fit of laughter, leaning forward to nuzzle into Izuku’s chest. 

“And you two?” 

Izuku’s voice reverberates. 

“Called in some favors. Thought it’d be good to spend a day together.” 

You feel like you’re in one long dream. After everything. There’s still so much to talk about but you let yourself ride the high.  Contented, you sigh, wrapping your arms around Izuku and closing your eyes. 

“I think so too.”

Hollow Heart

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『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 5,092 as of ch.1 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You Chapter 2.5 | Choke Chapter 3 | The Grey Chapter 4 | The Good Left Undone Chapter 5 | Tourniquet Chapter 6 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

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CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data. 

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo 

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile. 

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since. 

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends. 

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late. 

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click. 

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages. 

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear. 

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks. 

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit." 

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!" 

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?" 

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship. 

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath. 

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free." 

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes. 

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him? 

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you. 

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice. 

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different? 

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure. 

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.” 

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin. 

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that." 

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one. 

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down. 

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern. 

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too. 

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on. 

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart? 

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo. 

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down? 

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets? 

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right. 

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?! 

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens. 

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious? 

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant. 

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch. 

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified. 

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them. 

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves. 

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality. 

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder. 

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm. 

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

katsuki with a disabled partner

writing this because i’m having the shittiest flare rn and wanted some comfort fluff so here u go.

this is where i think katsuki (aged up) would truly shine as a partner; he shows his love in actions and in touch, and caring for you is his way of doing that. katsuki can more than handle the strain disability adds to a relationship.

anything you need on your worst days, he will do it: hold you, reassure you, bathe you, brush your hair, make your food, feed you, help you change, carry you across the house, catch you when you fall, schedule appointments, you name it. nothing is too difficult or off limits because he loves you. he insists on caring for you - almost overbearingly so - because it makes him feel less helpless when you’re struggling.

he will drop everything to be by your side. as a pro hero that’s not always possible, but if there is a way, he will find it. he’d never tell you, but the times he can’t be there when you need him is what keeps him up at night.

refuses to let you push through when you’re struggling and is the first person to insist that you put your well-being before anything else. (which you think to be ironic coming from someone who by all metrics is a workaholic.)

and yes, he will talk to anyone who gives you flak if he has to. he has leverage and he’s not afraid to use it (much to your embarrassment at times). refuses to let you feel guilty for what’s outside of your control.

gets angry when you try to do something without his help. “the fuck you think you’re doin? i’m right here. i’m gonna take care of you.” also gets mad if you have a bad flare, get injured, etc. and you don’t tell him immediately.

at the same time, he’ll eventually learn when to back off. he doesn’t want you stripped of your independence. but push yourself too hard after insisting you were fine? you bet he’s gonna give you a little shit for it (lovingly).

i don’t see him being put off by known long term disability early on in a relationship, esp. if a deaf!katsuki hc is involved.

sudden disability due to health changes or trauma: it’s almost like it doesn’t phase him because he just handles it. he’s dealt with a fair amount of shit himself before you and with you by his side. it’s not easy, but it’s familiar, so he knows what to do.

lots of comfort sex - for both of you. yeah, he has his rough, mean side (which you love), but he’s more than capable of making love. when you’re struggling but still able, he fucks you in a way that makes you believe everything will be okay. he looks you in the eyes and loves you so tenderly that only you might believe he’s the same man everyone else knows. he doesn’t just do it for you. it’s a comfort to him, too. he needs the world to fall away for just a moment so he can love you. it doesn’t fix life’s problems or keep him from worrying about you, but it’s healing and eases the pain.

bonus: comfort kink for the same reasons. whether it’s light impact play to ground you when you’re dissociated, encouraging you to slip into that subby headspace that makes you feel safe, or edging you until you can’t think to keep your mind occupied, he’s okay with it. i feel like he’d also be surprisingly soft for moments like this.

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown | Katsuki Bakugo x fem reader

synopsis: Being the Princess meant you were arranged to marry Prince Ito of the conjoining island for the sake of the kingdom, but the last thing you want is to marry someone you don’t love, and your other suitor isn’t someone your parents approve, but how can anyone stop true love from blooming? | wc: 6.9k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost from my old blog + slow burn + no quirks au + forbidden love + talks about running away and doing it + I’m not well versed in the royal au but I did read up on it + enemies to lovers au but I skip them being enemies which you will see what I mean lol + prince Ito is an OC I just came up with and he’s an ass and is misogynistic + fem pet names + any missing tag pls lmk! + virginity loss for both parties + explicit smut + fingering + unprotected sex + creampie + oral both for you and Katsuki + teasing + fluffy smut + cum eating + slight dirty talking + blood because of v loss + finger sucking + praising + breast/nipple play + Katsuki is soft and maybe ooc + overstim + I think that’s all! + again lmk any missing tag(s)!

Boring and stuffy is exactly how you would describe the scene unfolding in front of you, your parent’s ballroom is chock-full of pretentious people who fall in line with your mother and father.

The pair you despise because while you’re their daughter they have never looked at you like that before, it was always: what can you do to make their lives better? Never the other way around. 

Thoughts of your childhood disappeared like a bubble being popped when you heard someone clear their throat, you turned to look who it was, an insult dripping off your tongue when you came face to face with Prince Ito, the man you were set to marry to better the Kingdom and knew it was best to keep your mouth shut. 

You wanted to bite your lip, not in a sexy way either, but one that showed you were on your last nerve. He looked at you with confusion clouding his eyes and a slight smirk as to say ‘You’re stuck with me’ as his hand slipped into yours. 

“We’re supposed to be getting married, so well to remember that my dear.” 

Oh, how you wanted to regurgitate your dinner all over his shoes. Your eyes drifted around the packed room in an effort to ignore him, everyone was dressed in suffocating clothes, even you. 

It felt like hell, the temperature of what felt like flames licking the cream-colored walls, bits of gold and warm tones drowned out everything but the piano music in the corner. 

The feeling of so many bodies also added to the hellish feeling, and the damn dress you had to wear was so tight you were sure your ribs were cracking with each inhale. 

That even grated your already fried nerves feeling your soon-to-be husband pulling you closer, instantly you pulled away catching the gaze of your other courtship, the forbidden man you kept close to your heart. 

Katsuki Bakugo, the man that deep down in every crevice of your heart is your soulmate, you just haven’t told him yet, it was a delicate matter at hand truly.  

You looked at the brown-haired man and suppressed an eye roll, his eyes roamed your body greedily no doubt wondering just when he got to rip your dress off. 

He was someone your parents chose, someone who thought he was king shit of turd island, that made you smile at the mental joke. “Ready to dance?” He asked. 

Again you glanced over toward Katsuki’s direction not seeing him anymore, you hummed in disappointment sweeping the room and not seeing him still but you remembered what he looked like, you always would no matter what. 

Tonight he donned a dark gray suit, notes of red and dark green peeked out between the contrast of the three colors, it hugged him well, not like a second skin but enough to show off the muscles he worked hard for and the scars that littered his body. 

His blonde hair was a mess as always, pieces of it always stuck up like he was in a strong wind tunnel, another thing that made you break out in a grin, the man next to you cleared his throat clearing growing irritated with you ignoring him. 

“We need to show to our parents that we’re a right fit, you-” 

You turned on your heel wanting to stomp on his foot but instead, you forced a smile and nodded, knowing that if you had to open your mouth insults would just fly out instead, his hand was so sweaty it made you feel gross to even hold. 

Prince Ito made his way through the people that instantly parted letting you two through, he really wasn’t a prince to you anyway, just another whiny man-child whose family came from the other island that was situated next to your parents. The land didn’t belong to them, or anyone really in your opinion. 

But it didn’t matter, you were a good they could trade to better their lives, your life was at stake pretty much, honestly, at times you felt no better than the hard pieces of bread that the island’s trade, one has more fruits and grains than the other and the Ito island has oil and the vegetables, so a lot of trading was done. 

Even your own life was something that was traded, your family could produce an heir for his family, and yours and his parents were like yours, however, you and your wanna-be husband felt very different about that. He basked in the glow of being the only child, his pompous attitude made you ill and your eyes roll. 

“What has your attention my sugarplum?” Ito asked as he tugged you to the middle of the floor, bodies made their way to the side to let you both dance, his hand clasped yours never letting go, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist keeping you pinned against him. 

The use of the nickname was enough to make you visibly roll your eyes this time catching him off guard. If anything, you both need to keep a clean image, not a princess who would roll her eyes and defies the man. “Sorry, and nothing does. I’m just getting a bit famished.” 

“Well, in that case, I have a stick of meat that could fill you.” His hands slid down to your ass cupping the flesh, or well what he thought it was, most of it was your damn dress that he bunched up making you very uncomfortable. 

Your lips curled in disgust, and your free hand came to stop on his chest pushing him away to get some fresh air, and not his rancid breath filling your nostrils, it wasn’t awful smelling, it was the vibe you got from him that was musty and each time he opened his mouth it poured out. 

Ito growled low in his throat, which was meant to come across as a warning of sorts but all it did was make you angrier, and just about as you were to say something you felt Katsuki step behind you, his scent instantly calming. 

“I think the princess doesn’t want to dance with you anymore, Prince Handsy.” He muttered in a low tone that made you shiver. 

It wasn’t a death threat which is something he throws out to anyone who inconveniences you, his fiery eyes never left the other man who stared back. It was a warning for now. 

Before you or Ito could say anything, Katsuki removed you from his grip and out of the ballroom letting you melt against him, his back pressed against the wall as you all but tried to merge with him. “Thank you for that, he was getting on my nerves.” 

“I could tell, sugarplum,” He teased with a smirk as he stared at you, the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones you so desperately wanted to spill like ink on paper, the both of you know that him being nothing but a royal guard for your family and you the princess it would never be approved. 

But that didn’t stop you, Katsuki has been by your side since you were both children, you met him outside of the gates the one day you were able to slip away from the guards, at seven years old it wasn’t hard to fit it when you did get free. 

Just as soon as you walked into the mouth of the town, with dusty cobbled roads and people milling about buying and trading goods,  someone ran into you, a blonde boy around your age chasing two boys, one with red hair and the other with black and green hair. 

Blondie was yelling at the two-toned boy, something about him being a loser or to that effect while swinging his toy sword around in triumph. 

His lips curled almost in disgust when you approached them ready to join in, other children weren’t invited into the kingdom so the life you led thus far has been extremely lonely. 

“We don’t play with girls.” Blondie snarled holding a wooden sword, his tattered clothes held a belt around his waist. 

“I can tell, no need to be rude about it. Scared a girl is going to kick your butt?” You spit glaring at him as you grabbed the Red’s sword from his hands, his small mouth popping open staring at you getting into a fighting stance. 

Red opened his mouth ready to say something before you drew the toy with a wide grin setting it against Blondie’s neck, his vermillion eyes swept over your whole body taking in your appearance, it was clear you belonged inside the gates and not out and Katsuki knew.

“No, I’m not, but you need to scram princess before you get hurt.” 

Both of you were caught in a stare-off, everything around you melted away as you took in his appearance, dirt streaked through his hair and on his cheeks, it was just as clear that he was a family that lived far away from the castle gates, and that made you angry. 

Not at him, but at your parents and all the adults who think this is okay, something you really can’t fight about now but now with the judging stare from Blondie it made you angrier, just as you opened your mouth to say something you were picked up and escorted back home. 

The Queen made sure her servants scolded you instead, but all they did was make sure you were washed up and ready to go in the morning for some type of benefit the King threw. 

Then a year later little Blondie came into the kingdom after losing his village and was raised as a royal guard, mostly to you due to how close you two were in age. 

Now that you and Katsuki are in your mid-twenties the tension of being enemies melted away, but not all of it. Sometimes you two still nipped at each other. 

But right now all you could focus on was being with Katsuki like this, his arms wrapped around your waist letting you sag against him. “I really don’t want to marry him, he’s no better than the cow pies in the fields.” 

“Cow pies? You mean shit. Prince Idiot is pure flaming hot-” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth hearing footsteps down the hall, fear wrapped around your spine like a frozen hand. No doubt it was the other guards, the ones who were under your parent’s thumb, unlike the man you were pressed against right now staring at you intently. 

Do you understand that Katsuki would run away with you? He’d never let you go without, even though it won’t be in the kingdom he still wanted to care for you. He could hear the hushed tones of the men, your name making you curl more into him scared they’ll find you. 

He wanted nothing more than to grab their heads and knock them together, anything that caused you stress weighed on him too, a much different person he’s become Katsuki thought as his fingers curled in your dress kissing your forehead. “Shh.” He told you before stepping out of the shadows. 

“She isn’t over in this area, I thought I saw her but it was a dead lead,” Katsuki told them, his voice never wavered or showed he was lying, you watched him drinking him in, the way he all but towered over a lot of people including you, tall and just there. He’s the best guard to have. 

One guard nodded while the others looked at him with curious looks, of course, it wasn’t a secret but to you and Katsuki that you two were madly in love, everyone could tell, however, it was still not seen by each other for some reason you were both blinded by it. 

Once they turned and left back to the ballroom to report to your parents you stepped out of the shadows to envelop Katsuki in a tight hug, his arms quickly wrapped around you not really wanting to let go just yet, you both stood there in the large hallway in a warm embrace. 

He smelt like warmth and spices, along with an earthy undertone that made you want to run away with him to the forest, the both of you could easily make a home and you would do it in a heartbeat, Katsuki means way too much to you to let go, you buried your face in him before stepping away looking at him, the charged gaze made you almost beg for a kiss. 

Instead, you slipped your hand in his and kissed his gloved-clad one. “I should get back, but I promise to see you later.” You left him with a kiss on the cheek before turning away feeling the sting of tears knowing he doesn’t see you the way you see him, he thinks of you like a sister or the annoying Princess he has to babysit. 

Katsuki stood rooted in his place growing angry at himself, sure, he was brash and crude and had not a problem telling anyone off but when it came to his feelings he choked on them because he was terrified you’d laugh at him when he confessed. That’s something he’s not sure he would be able to handle. 

He hasn’t even kissed anyone else, you’re literally his first for everything, and by kissing it’s just a peck on the forehead from him and you always leave a lipstick print on his cheek or sometimes you’ll hold his head and give him a forehead smooch. 

You always left him with something, whether it is a hug, kiss, some type of gift or even just patting his hand there was always something that left him wondering about you during the night, sometimes he’d touch himself just like you do but that was a secret you’d both die with before telling each other or anyone else. 

Thankfully, he was a few rooms down from you in case something happened and he can reach you, and it’s shocking that your parents would let him because they sense the relationship that has been blooming since childhood, but Katsuki is the only person who would protect you this fiercely. 

With a great sigh, he entered the ballroom again, his stupid outfit made him itch all over, it wasn’t his usual uniform but a suit to make him blend in a bit better with the crowd, but everyone knew who he was, it was very obvious uniform or not. 

Katsuki watched you with him, Ito’s arm around your waist keeping you flush against him, his other hand holding yours in a tight hold making sure you didn’t leave him, the possessive gesture made his blood boil, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to say anything or do something. 

He wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way he did, so all Katsuki did was lean against the wall watching the other people dance, his red eyes swept over everyone keeping his gaze still on you mostly, it was clear you were uncomfortable. 

Your eyebrows were pinched in the middle and your lips were in a thin line pressing them together, he knew you were irritated and not very happy about dancing with him this close, the asshole thought he knew you from head to toe. 

Ito attempted to make a joke he heard when he came closer, the smell of your heavy perfume only worn by you made his stomach erupt with a million butterflies it felt like, their soft wings brushing against each other, if anyone else wore it, it made him sick. 

Your eyes connected with his in a heated gaze looking at him with a soft smile, the look Ito caught on made him curl his fingers under your chin turning you to face him with a sick smile, his lips were cracked and you swore you smelt the evil from him. 

“Why do you keep looking at everyone but me? I’m the only man you need to be staring at.” 

Sickness crept up your throat as his eyes burned into yours with such intensity, there was something that made a chill rack your body, just when you opened your mouth to reply your Father interrupted. 

“We need you two to come to the front please, it’s time to announce the marriage between him and you to the Kingdom.” 

Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach, dread replaced everything you felt, and the reality of the situation is coming to a head, once that is announced what was happening you knew it would be harder to get out of, and if you left you’d be shunned from the Kingdom and your parents. 

Ito smiled and squeezed your hand with a sicker grin, the gleam in his eyes reminded you of a demon that terrorized the village well before you were born but the pictures and stories that were passed down by each generation were fresh in your mind. 

“Can you please give me a moment? I’d like to freshen up before we do anything.” You asked with a soft smile, it hurt to force it but thankfully neither Ito or your Father could tell, even when they watched you walk to Katsuki to ask him to walk you to your room. 

Once you both were out of the ballroom and out of ear shop from people you slid your hand in his. “We’re leaving right now, my dad wants to announce the marriage between us and I can’t do it, I won’t. I refuse to end up miserable like my mom.” 

Katsuki watched you with a smirk as he followed you to your room, after the door was shut you looked around taking it in once more, the room that has housed you for the past twenty-some years is now held so many memories. 

It made your heart crack a bit, and tears stung your eyes but you buried that for a moment and packed a small basket you kept under your bed away from prying eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Katsuki asked taking things he could sell. 

There was no way in hell he was going to leave you alone and you knew that. “Yes, this is hell on earth and I don’t want to be a Queen, I can’t do what they do, and know what I know. When I first met you-” You stopped mid-sentence and sighed. 

He sat on the edge of your bed watching you intently, his lips pressed in a thin line like yours were earlier, you knew he was chewing on his next sentence holding the things in his bag that sat in his lap before helping you pack the nightgowns. 

All your other dresses wouldn’t fit in and the last thing you want is to wear them anymore, now it is time for you to live your life. The way you want to, and it wouldn’t matter if you tried to set new rules, they would be overruled by King Ito. 

The thought of what was to come made you shiver. “Thank you, Kats, I really do appreciate what you’re doing.” You told him finishing up your packing. 

“Don’t thank me and don’t call me that, I told you that before.” He grumbled standing up, but you knew he was joking a bit, his nickname as a kid made him think about the way he feels about you, and now is not the time. 

Quickly you both finished up and got everything ready, briefly Katsuki wondered why anyone hasn’t come to get you yet but they think he’s helping you. 

Oh, is he really helping you with everything you need. He peeked his head out of your door turning his head side to side and sweeping the empty halls, he strained to listen for footsteps. 

Silence only greeted him, giving you both one minute to sneak down to the door that led outside from the lower level, it was a secret you discovered years ago. 

Katsuki held your hand tight leading you down the flight of steps, momentarily pressing yourselves against the wall hearing voices carry down the stone hall. 

“Make sure to stay hidden.” He reminded you giving your hand a light squeeze while glancing back at you, quickly you fixed the silk around your head covering most of your face up. 

You nodded staying silent but only to take a deep breath in when you stepped outside, the sun instantly warmed you up, and the free feeling you got only amplified. 

“Go look for her!” Both of you heard a voice cry out, thankfully now under the bridge so no one could see you watching a few guards and your mom and dad, then of course, Ito was standing in front of everyone with his arms crossed over his chest looking like an angry child. 

You giggled a bit catching Katsuki’s attention who looked over at you with furrowed eyebrows, his hand coming up to muffle your laughter at the supposed man who you were set to marry, his face screwed up and red as he sputtered out more threats and demanded they find you. 

After you removed his hand away from his mouth you turned around to face the wall, looking behind your shoulder at him, the way your lips parted made his cock twitch in his pants as you smiled softly. “Please unlace this, I am dying and I can’t breathe in this stupid thing.” 

Katsuki stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers untying the silk watching you inhale deeply, the charged air around you two crackled with sensual and high tension, he could smell your sweet shampoo and you, his musk, how bad you wanted to turn, and kiss him sat in your stomach like a rock. 

“Thanks, Kats, I appreciate you and this too.” His mouth was open ready to snap at you until you turned around to stare at him, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes with a sad smile, and he thought it was because you were going to miss your family, but that was the least of your worries. 

He opened his arms letting you settle in them melting against him. “You’re my favorite pain in the ass, you know?” Katsuki said looking at you, fire dancing in his vermillion eyes. 

“I hope I’m the only pain in your ass, otherwise what would be the point?” You asked in a teasing tone batting your heavy lashes and hearing the people fade away from the bridge, most likely going back to check the castle again, the sad look you held now faded. 

An hour later you both didn’t hear anything, not even people walking over the bridge, Katsuki told you to wait there while he checked, thankfully no one was around when he helped you up the grassy cliff and quickly drag you to the edge of the forest, the sun setting cast a shadow over you both. 

“I found a small house when I was exploring and over the last few months I made sure to add some fire logs and clean it up for us,” Katsuki told you getting past the mouth of trees, it was a plan set in stone the moment you turned ten, the age you were told about marrying Ito. 

Hand in hand you walked close to him using him for warmth and comfort glancing around the  bare trees, it was beginning to get cooler and the trees were now losing their buds, the warm air becoming rigid. “This is why you’re my favorite pain in the ass.” 

Katsuki chuckled and rolled his eyes huffing a bit at the compliment, he stayed silent the entire walk never letting go of your hand as he led you to the small house, more like a cabin that has been sitting there unoccupied until now, thankfully he cleaned all the spiderwebs and stuff up. 

The sun dipped almost to the horizon by the time you both reached the front door, sweat beaded along your nape watching Katsuki toe the heavy wood open letting you in first taking in your new living situation, everything was in the big square, minus the bathroom thankfully. 

A huge bay window faced the back of the house giving you a clear view of the tall trees, you dropped the bag and began to undress yourself down to the thin slip you wore under all the layers before sitting on the creaky bed, the springs groaning under your weight. 

Katsuki watched you with heated eyes, it was not the time to pop a boner but it couldn’t be helped seeing you flop on your back, the bottom hem of your dress rolling up to your mid-thigh. “This is so much better than that castle, it was so stuffy and miserable there, the ghosts haunting us.” You murmured out loud staring up at the wooden ceiling noting the decay. 

“You really still think ghosts roamed those halls?” He asked kicking his heavy boots off before moving to the fireplace and setting it up, the fire crackling instantly warming up the small room Katsuki sat in front of it removing his gloves and hearing the bed creak as you rolled to your side. 

“Yep,” You popped the p and sat up crossing your legs, “I sure do, you’ve heard all the stories they told us and everything that’s been going on, all of the people who lived there I believe are condemned to stay there forever, why should their souls rest when they put our people through hell? I can’t be the Queen for that reason, let alone Ito’s wife.” 

You spit venom saying his name, the feeling of his creepy stare and his hands made you ill thinking about it. “I understand, and you’re-” Katsuki cut off swallowing his tongue, the confession almost spilled from his lips. 

“I’m what?” You asked getting off the bed to walk over to him crouching down next to him, your head laying on his back before wrapping your arms around him, the feeling of your touch made his heart jump to his throat. 

“Nothing, you need a bath though. You stink.” He murmured changing the topic and lucky for him it worked this time, you giggled and smacked his shoulder gently knowing standing up and grabbing your basket of clothes and washes. 

Katsuki joined you pulling his gloves back on before opening the door and holding his hand out for you, it was an unspoken agreement just in case something happens and he feels better knowing he can protect you if something happens. 

Thankfully it was only a short walk to the clear creek that ran between several trees packed together, the cool wind bit at you but it felt nice being in the cramped room, and you knew your nipples were pebbled and rubbing against your silk slip, the moonlight was perfect this evening giving him a clear view of you. 

Katsuki did everything not to look, he doesn’t want to think of himself as someone like Ito knowing he would stare without a care in the world. “Are you just going to watch?” You asked with a sly smile setting the woven basket down and watching him turn his back to you shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not a creep. Just hurry up woman.” He mumbled crossing his arms over his chest and listening to you slip into the cold water, you gasped at the sensation and splashed around the water once you got used to it. 

Katsuki never once turned to look, even though his heart was beating a bit too fast for him and the fact that his dick had a mind of its own getting hard, the tip leaky and sticky in his pants made it uncomfortable and shameful. Being a virgin at this age was embarrassing enough. 

He wanted to palm himself in the worst way possible, it was difficult not to, especially when he glanced back at the same time you came back up breaking the water’s surface, your skin bare to his eyes feasting on you, water dripped down your face like it was his favorite wet dream. 

“Are you watching your best friend bathe? You little pervert.” You teased splashing water over the muddy sides of the creek with a smirk, it warmed you more than anything knowing he wanted to stare, you could read him like an open book now and the thought of him liking you more than friends was enough to get out and dry off then get dressed. 

Katsuki ignored you and your antics knowing if he spoke it would come out hoarse, thick with desire then he felt your hand slide in his before walking back to the house, the moon high and bright giving you both plenty of light to guide you both back where he locked every window up. 

Once you were warmed up and dried off you slid in the bed with Katsuki watching him sit on the side, his ass almost hanging off while he was still fully dressed, boots including. “Are you going to sleep in your clothes? You’re wearing leather and it doesn’t look comfortable.” 

“I’m fine,” He mumbled causing you to frown, he went rigid feeling you crawl over to him kneeling behind him, your fingers dancing over his broad shoulders as you leaned in kissing his cheek and shaking your head. 

“Don’t be scared, it’s not like I haven’t seen you almost naked anyway.” You murmured in a teasing voice, your lips pressed against the shell, and while you couldn’t see the goosebumps raising over him you knew they were by the way he shivered. 

Katsuki growled softly when your fingers slid down his chest now pressing your chest against his back, his hands coming up to yours stopping them. “I-” His voice was strained as he stayed still looking down at the floor. 

It’s now or never you thought feeling warmth trickle through you. “I love you Katsuki, so much, I harbored these feelings for long enough now I think and you helped me through everything. We fought at times and got on each other’s nerves but I don’t want anyone but you.” 

He turned his head to stare at you, his own words dying on his tongue and instead of speaking them Katsuki leaned in and kissed you, his lips sought yours in a tender meeting that slowly grew needy until you were seated in his lap, your tongues tangled together now. 

It was sloppy with your arms wrapped around his neck, the bottom hem of your slip rolled up to your thighs as you grabbed his left wrist holding his hand to your swollen lips staring at him with lust-blown pupils bitting down on the leather removing his glove before moving to the other one. 

Katsuki thought his dick was going to explode right then and there feeling the warmth of your bare pussy soaking into his pants, your eyes trained on his and half-lidded as you leaned back in to kiss him again swiping your tongue between his lips before pecking them several times. 

“I’m a virgin.” You whispered against his lips. Now he was sure it would explode. Your confession set his heart on fire, he was sure this was your first kiss just like him, the both of you took the time to explore each other’s bodies, first, you removed his gloves then his leather jacket and shirt running your open palms over his chest and stomach. 

Katsuki laid on his back letting you straddle him, his own fingers tracing up and down your arms eliciting goosebumps as he pulled the straps of your dress down baring your breasts to him, the fire crackled in the background but you still heard him suck in a deep breath as he cupped the flesh. 

He palmed them at first before running his hands up and down your sides, then back to your breasts and shoulders, everywhere he touched left a trail of fire and desire, needy you leaned down kissing him again letting him hold your hips tightly grinding you against him. 

“I’ve always thought about this Kats, you’re much better than my dreams.” You whispered in his ear trailing kisses all over his face and neck that you littered with love bites, he stared at you with pink cheeks as he huffed before quickly flipping you to your back. 

He grunted in response settling himself between your spread legs. “Lift that pretty ass of yours up.” You were quick to listen lifting your hips and butt up watching him shimmy off your slip, his vermillion eyes feasted upon your naked form just as you did the same thing. 

Katsuki had no idea what to do, his first action was kissing your thighs nibbling a bit, he listened to your moans and pleas and how you fisted the sheet wanting him to kiss you where it really mattered. His tongue lolled out once he was face to face with your slick pussy. 

He inhaled your musk deeply making sure to ingrain it inside him, he wanted to devour you, the woman who put the sun and moons in the sky for him, the only person who understand the broken part of him, you always saw him as who he is and never what he pretended to be. 

Your fingers curled in his blonde locks when he licked a wide stripe up your pussy from your fluttering hole all the way up to your clit which he sucked in at first before swirling the tip of his tongue around the bud, he still wasn’t sure if this was okay but judging from your sounds it was. 

Never has anyone told him how to please a woman or anything, but you were such a good teacher, and letting him explore, he pulled away spreading you open. “Ow! Not so rough!” You mewled when he did it a bit too much. 

“Sorry, I’m a virgin too.” He admitted watching you sit up, your eyes filled with hot need, the thought of him giving you something so special caused your heart to swell in your throat, you leaned down and kissed his head before laying back again. 

He continued gaining the courage to rub at your clit, at first he rubbed your left lower labia before letting you move his fingers to the throbbing bud moaning his name over and over until he slowly slid his fingertip inside you. “Holy shit.” Katsuki groaned feeling you tight around him. 

Every piece of you filled the missing pieces of him, all the cracks in his heart you filled with your own love, one of the many things he loved about you, and oh how it grew over the years once you two were over the bickering and knew it was better to get along. 

Now his heart beat just for you, nothing else mattered really to him but to protect you, and his goal was to make sure you didn’t marry Ito and now here you are under him moaning his name fucking yourself back on fingers and humping his mouth. 

It didn’t take him long thankfully in figuring out what you liked and how to make you feel good, his tongue buried in your cunt sucking and licking away the mess you made from the first orgasm that he talked you through. “So good, keep coming for me, sweetheart.” 

Katsuki ground his own hips against the bed fucking the blanket wanting to desperately feel you around him, he just didn’t want to cause you any more pain, he pulled away smelling the heavy sex in the air along with the damp earth undertones. 

He looked down at you with the moonlight washing over him from the bare windows, the fire behind him cast a glow making it look like he was a king and he was, he’s your King. “Katsuki, please, I need you.” You begged with a hoarse voice from the moaning and whimpering. 

Quickly he pulled his fingers out sliding his hand up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. “Part those pretty lips for me.” He demanded in a gentle tone watching your lips open, his fingers pressed in on your tongue. 

Closing your lips around him you held his wrist sucking his fingers clean never breaking his stare while grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock coating the length of him with your slick feeling the tip barely grazing your fluttering hole with a soft sigh. 

“Katsuki - please I wanna taste your dick.” The lewd words spilled from your mouth when he removed his fingers with a groan quickly sitting on his ass and spreading his legs watching you scramble to kneel between his thighs rubbing them. 

He watched you bend at the waist to kiss and lick the head tasting the salty pre-cum, your fingers wrapped around the base giving it experimental jerks of your wrist glancing up at him, his eyes screwed shut, your mouth and hand much better his own palm and thoughts. 

“You look so pretty with my dick like this, I love how you taste too. I-I love you.” Katsuki admitted in a rush of words, he stared at you afraid of your next reaction.

“I would die for you. Kill for you, do anything you asked me to if you found peace or pleasure or whatever else from it. Please, please, let me burn the world around us for you, I never want to leave this place unless it’s with you, you’re my home and heart.” You whispered your own confession. 

Katsuki pushed you on your back again covering his body with yours pressing your legs back and open seeking your mouth in a hot and deep kiss moving his hands to hold yours, fingers intertwining together. “The only peace and pleasure I get are from staring at you, being in your presence is nothing better, all the finest gold in the world has nothing against you.” 

His words swirled in your head as he slowly slid the head of his cock inside you feeling you tighten around him at first trying to push him out, you whined softly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Take me, I know you can, this pussy is mine now and my dick is all for you, so take it the way you were meant to princess.” 

“Oh my, Katsuki!” You yelped when he pushed deeper until he was halfway in he pulled out seeing a thin sheen of blood, the guilt ate at him but feeling you tug on his neck which pulled him away from his thoughts. 

“I’m ok, please don’t stop.” You murmured kissing his jaw with soft kisses as you ground your hips seeking more of him, Katsuki bared his teeth at how tight and wet you were when he bottomed out with a low growl in his throat. 

He stayed still letting you adjust to him, stars burst behind your eyes giving him the last piece of your soul. “I love you Katsuki Bakugo.” You whispered kissing him again in a silent way to tell him it was okay to move. 

Katsuki rocked his hips against yours going slow while reaching his hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit feeling you tighten around him with a loud moan. “I love how your pussy molds to me, told you we were meant to be.” He groaned in your ear picking up the pace. 

Pleasure clouded all thoughts as you ground your hips against him when his mouth latched on your nipple sucking it deep in his mouth fucking you harder now, the only thing you could feel was him, not the warmth from the fire, not the sheets under you or anything else. 

Katsuki has now totally invaded you and everything else, but it was a mutual feeling, the way he kissed every inch of skin while making love to you now, his praises melted and dripped down to the pool of hot desire in your stomach. 

“You will have my last name someday, maybe even soon. Now we can be together, forever.” His forehead rested against yours before he pulled away and out helping you to your hands and knees, the pillow was shoved aside as he slowly thrust back in feeling his orgasm bubble up. 

His hands held your hips in a tight hold bottoming out, he kept a soft pace letting you bounce back against him chasing your own high, his balls tightened when you threw your head back staring at him moaning his name and quickly he came filling you up thick and warm. 

He wasn’t done by any means, once you both came down from the highs he laid on the bed helping you straddle his lap and riding him while holding his hands and grinding your hips down before bouncing up and down and hearing the creaking of the bed fill the small room. 

“Katsuki! You feel so good inside me!” You panted feeling sweat drip down your back while using his cum as lube to sit all the way up leaving just the tip in before slowly dropping back down finding his mouth in a hot kiss fucking him wildly. 

Neither of you was sure how long it was before you both lay next to each other panting and sweating, his cock soft and aching as you rolled to your side curling against him with a soft smile and droopy eyes from exhaustion seeping in. “Let’s do that every night.” 

Katsuki nodded in agreement knowing that you both were finally happy and free together, forever.

𝐉𝐮𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Realised I never wrote a proper Bakugou story (I ain't counting his birthday story) with actual plot, so I'm throwing everything I have into this story. Stay tuned as our favourite angry blond stumbles into our lives and pulls us back into our delusions!

“Have you heard about the ghost in the hall?”

Katsuki meets a strange person in the empty school hall who’s the polar opposite of him: A bystander, a wallflower, someone forgettable.

Someone too forgettable.

aka

Katsuki wishes that something interesting would happen after the war. He gets his wish.

--

Tags: Bakugou x Fem!reader, angst, fluff

You can find all the parts of this under #Juxtaposition (Bakugou)

1: How Can You See Me?

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BAKUGOU BARBARIAN-VERSE | MASTERLIST

tags/warnings: fantasy au, aged up characters, sfw, accidental marriage, part i is gender neutral but reader has fem pronouns in later parts

PART I (1.3K)

On a cold, windy night, barbarian Bakugou warms you up. Things get complicated from there.

PART II (1K)

Your traveling party visits a village where you accidentally trigger an ancient marriage custom. Now, aspiring suitors will fight for the promise of your hand in marriage, and you're not liking how many unknown villagers seem interested. You're just hoping you can figure out a way to sneak out of the village before the tournament wraps up—except, wait, why is Bakugou striding into the ring...?

PART III (0.5K)

You learn something unexpected about your barbarian sort-of husband.

PART IV (coming soon!)

Bakugou learns something unexpected about you, and quickly becomes far too smug about it.

PART V (coming soon!)

After all these months, you wonder what Bakugou's true feelings for you are and whether your marriage is legitimate in the custom of his people. You try to find out what his plans are for the conclusion of your adventure. A small gesture from Bakugou clarifies his feelings.

drabbles will be posted under the tag #bakugou barbarian verse

Hello spongy! I hope your mojo comes back. 🖤🐈‍⬛

Bakugou Katsuki - wedding ring - sadness or anger- choking 👀

Hopefully this sparks something. I know whatever you write will be wonderful!

Hi Kitten, thank you for your request, it’s helping loads and I’m feeling more optimistic about my writing already x x x

Bare

Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut, choking, implied infidelity, a bit of angst, intentionally vague. 

It had all been going so well. 

Catching that prick of a villain towards the end of his shift; getting news that he’s on track to move up a few ranks in the next quarterly popularity polls; receiving a phone call from his mom, and not having her breathing down his neck over some stupid shit she wants him to do. 

Life was moving forward. Life was moving on. He was starting to forget. 

Then there’d been a knock at his door, disturbing him from a blessed sleep he hadn’t been able to sink into for weeks now. 

Finding you there. Here. On his doorstep. Mascara leaking down wet cheeks. A hastily packed bag at your feet and the words falling from trembling lips;

“I did it.”

It couldn’t have gone better. 

It was like old times. Colliding into one another like you hadn’t been gone for months; no word or sighting. A blank space in the shape of you that not even a faceless soul could fill. No late night phone calls that last until dawn, or early morning greetings that start with a smirk and a kiss. 

You came and left like a hurricane. Turning his world upside down. Having him craving the next meeting. 

Now it looks like you’re back. 

Be it for good. A week. A day. A night. An hour. 

He’ll take what he can get. Feed into the lie that may or may not be a reality. 

Until he saw it, and the floodgates opened. 

Having you under him. The dent in the mattress recognising your figure and moulding back into a familiar shape. The pillow beneath your head absorbing the scent of your shampoo and perfume, claiming it back into your possession. Satiating him for the nights without you. The slats of the headboard remember the way you gripped them, hung on, nails scratching and palms itching, leaning behind groves that he could trace and hold, reliving your last moments before you had to dress and step back into the world you had without him. 

Your back is soft against his chest, fitting perfectly into the crevasses, spine curved, hips raised between his thighs, rocking gently, meeting him like waves ebbing and flowing over a cool, moonlit beach. 

You’re anything but; you burn like the sun, skin kissed by fire, spreading your warmth and melting the cage he’s so diligently erected around himself since you’d last been here. 

Just like this. With him. 

The bars are buckling, warping, setting him free, only to be locked in a different kind of prison. 

It’s when he turns his head, just slightly away from the angle of your jaw to catch a breath, and the gold glint catches the light like an imploding star, does the heat turn icy. Those lapping waves are no longer welcoming and inviting, but tumultuous as they crash, ripped by outcroppings of rocks and debris, pushing, preventing, blocking, reminding him of the ties you have outside of him. 

You’ve always held him at a distance, and he’d appreciated it. Helped steel himself, keeping his head above water so as not to drown and become consumed by your pull. 

Didn’t stop the fall though. Let himself be weak for one moment and let you crawl inside his chest to nest. Plague his dreams, while you sleep soundly. 

He wants you to feel the choking want of longing and the need to inflict pain on the source. Throttle it with disgust and fury until it consumes itself and dies. 

Let him be. Let him live. 

The hand that had been cradling your breast slips from the flesh, to come up and around, fingers clawing as they settle and dig, tendons contracting around a vibrating throat. Moans stalled as you feel the change within him.  

“Take it off,” Katsuki bites through gritted teeth. 

You're so still he thinks you die a little death. Not the euphoric kind. This is the type that is dread, all consuming, has the hair on the back of your neck prickling. 

He can feel them. Soft yet sharp, drenched in sweat, a dusky aroma thickening and seeping into his open pores as they fight to rise up beneath his clawed hand, squeezing against a pulse that’s stopped its beating. 

The whites of your eyes have never been brighter, and the deep pits of your pupils never bigger. Your profile hurts to look at, which is why he’d taken you like he had, mounted you like a jungle cat, pressed your face into the sheets, fooled himself into thinking that he can pretend you’re someone else should you walk out once again. 

Never have to gaze upon the split affection you have warring within them whenever you have doubts. 

Katsuki doesn’t like to share. But for you he had. Let this charade commence until you finally gave in to the winning side.

You win some, you lose some. He just didn’t think he’d have been left in limbo for so long. Alone without a word or look, no indication whether your time together had an effect, tipping the scales in his favour. It has always been balanced. Equal. And it aggravated him that he’d found his match to a person with no image. 

If you’re truthful this time, if you’ve done as you’ve said, there’ll be no hesitation, it will be as involuntary as blinking. As effortless as a heartbeat. 

Your breath bursts, the inhale ragged. 

His fingers tighten around a string, slick and coarse. Lax and taut, until there’s nowhere else for it to go. 

And your hips don’t stop, canting an undulating rhythm that almost knocks his resolve back into the gutter. He keeps still though, doesn’t give an inch, even if his will slowly depletes and the urge to grind back becomes a battle he might just let himself lose. 

Your eyes rolling upward as you look at him from the corner of your eye, his nose pressing into your cheek, jaw clenching to keep the need at bay. 

He’s not playing this time, he means it as his forehead digs into your temple, hand closing marginally when you tilt your head back and he feels slack, your eyelashes fluttering along with a gasp. 

Trapping your left wrist against the mattress, he struggles for a moment, prying open your fisted fingers and finding the offending item. 

You’re enjoying this, he finds. Watching as you eye his every movement; bask in the precarious position he has you in. Letting him have the upper hand when really you know you’ve had him where you want him from the very beginning. Drawing him in and pushing him away as frequently as the wind blows.  

He sees it. The pleasure you get when you witness the ugliness of his jealousy rearing its head, fighting a perceived threat that’s no longer there. 

But it will always be here, taunting him until it’s gone for good. 

“Take. It. Off.”

You moan in reply, a whimper for a reprieve. 

Despite the heat radiating between you both, the band is cold, a last reminder of the wedge that keeps - kept - you apart. 

It doesn’t give so easily, like it’s holding on and maintaining that distance he is - was - never allowed to cross. Reminding him of who was here first. 

As it passes the first knuckle, you buck, and Katsuki answers with a thrust, pinning you until you can’t retaliate, except for a frustrated, wheezing moan, and a squeeze of your walls around his cock, a salty tear captured by his lips, sliding beneath his tongue as he bares his teeth with a rumbling growl. 

Effortlessly, it glides past the second, and he has it. 

It isn’t yours anymore. 

And it won’t be ever again. Soon it will be a distant memory Katsuki will erase along with the name that went along with it. 

The metal melts in his palm as he clasps the ring, twisting and distorting into a congealed mass, his eyes burning brightly along with the rage he’s been keeping under loose wraps. Glowing orange like a setting sun, or the dawning of a new morning. 

You whimper, strangled and desperate, until Katsuki moves again. 

Thrust. Thrust. Roll. Gold-coated palm singeing the flesh of your lower back, and sizzling the sweat pooled in the dip of your spine when he presses down to arch you further, pulling back your head by the grip he still has around your throat so you can watch him, raising up and gaining an angle that lets him get deeper, reach a place no one has - and never will - reach again. 

Except for him. 

You're his now. 

And that finger won’t stay bare for long. 

Matchlit

Summary: You and Katsuki Bakugou have been a little more than friends for forever, with everyone around you trying to push you together by any means necessary. You two however are relatively comfortable in this in-between space despite every force trying to make you a couple. Are you truly still each other's match when these circumstances change?

Pairings: Bakugou x Reader, Bakugou x OC

CW: arranged marriage, angst, friends to lovers, situationship, mutual pining, established relationships, blackmail

A/N: Crossposted on AO3! There are a number of OCs in this fic and a couple of subplots!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Sleep on the Floor Masterlist

Bakugo x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

WC: Ongoing

Summary: Katsuki meets you, a strange woman dressed in fancy black attire, at a podunk country bar in the middle of nowhere. He's been wasting his life away drinking, barely showering, feeling sorry for himself after an injury caused the downfall of his career. A chance encounter and an offer for a road trip to god knows where brings two lost and unhappy strangers together for an adventure that may teach them about each other and themselves.

a/n: Hello there so if you aren’t familiar with this fic and you stumble across the masterlist, this is my grief coping fic. This is a fic I work on when I’m drowning and wanting to run away from my current life to start over and need to write to get those feelings out. There is not an upload schedule I never know when there will be an update, please do not ask for updates. This is an extremely informal piece and it means a lot to me. If you give this a chance I love you forever and thank you from the bottom of my heart. 💖 Also I’ve had a few people send me songs that they think fit the vibes I love that! Please don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me about this or send songs. I love hearing them. ☺️

Playlist

🚙 Part I

🚙 Part II

🚙 Part III

🚙 Part IV

🚙 Part V (Coming at some point)

k. bakugou x reader

warnings: medieval au, angst with a somewhat happy ending, childhood friends to lovers (with some hiccups in between), brief mentions of death, morbid jokes, outdoor sex, p in v, fem-bodied reader, bkg calls you his ‘woman’ once

word count: 3k

notes: tbh i do not know where this came from. i had a very vague idea and ran with it, and here we are. hopefully everyone can enjoy it! (´͈ ᵕ `͈ ）

You’ve been traveling for so damn long, legs sore from the never ending trek, heels blistered from the rub of your boots, face chafed from the dry winds.

It could be worse, you suppose. The elements could be harsher. You’re lucky that it’s springtime and you’re not stuck in the dead of summer or winter. Plus, your company is better than most. It’s quiet between the two of you, as it has been for the last couple of years, but there’s no bickering, just a few snide comments borne of exhaustion. Truthfully, both of you are too tired to argue like you used to.

Suddenly, a rough hand shoots out to stop you in your tracks, and you look at Katsuki in alarm.

“Wha-”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

His crimson eyes are fixed on something on the horizon. It’s nothing more than a glimmer to you, but if you squint…

“Is that…”

“Water.”

A river from the looks of it, beckoning you with open arms.

The two of you take off at a run (or the closest your aching bodies will allow), stumbling over dirt and grass until you’re at the edge of the glimmering stream. It babbles at you happily, splashing over rocks and caressing the earth around it.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you half-joke. It is magnificent, but it still somehow pales in comparison to the man next to you who’s ripping his boots off. Not even this water could quench the craving you have for him.

“Gonna feel even better,” Katsuki mutters, glancing over at you then urging, “what, you shy? Take your clothes off n’ get in.”

Your cheeks heat at the demand but you end up doing just that. You haven’t bathed in god knows how long. The only water you had before was strictly for drinking no matter how much you had wanted to pour some over your head at times.

Like Katsuki, you pull your boots off first then shrug out of your outer layer of leather hide. Riding pants then your tunic. You hesitate at your undergarments, eyes darting to Katsuki’s already nude form as he drops to the ground and dips his legs in the river. His broad shoulders sag in relief, the wide expanse of his back exposed to the sunlight and glistening gold under the heat. You miss touching it, tracing over every pale scar, counting the stray freckles that dot his spine and ribs…

“Don’t be so awkward about it.” His voice snaps you out of your daydream. “Nothin’ I ain’t seen before.”

He’s right. It’s been a long time, but still. You’ve seen every inch of one another in the past, patching up training wounds then brushing lips over them.

“Don’t be so pushy,” you mumble, finally pushing your underwear down and taking off the wrap around your chest. Taking a deep, unencumbered breath, you let a small smile creep onto your face. The wind feels nice for once, cooling your skin that’s been sticky with sweat for what feels like forever.

Katsuki is standing now, up to his hips in the water, and holds a hand out for you. He doesn’t bother averting his eyes, only ever having been a gentleman when it’s suited him and apparently this is not one of those times.

It’s chilly at first, but after submerging your whole body, wetting your hair, the temperature is more than pleasant.

“Gods, that feels good,” you groan, scratching your nails over your dripping arms to scrub away as much grime as you can.

Katsuki dunks his head under, shakes his hair like a dog when he straightens up and pelts you in the face with stray drops. You splash him in return and initiate a small war, both of you now in a rare giddy mood despite your terrible circumstances.

The village was the only place you’d known. You spent your days like most of the other kids, tending to the land and training. It didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl or whose house you came from. Everyone had to learn to fight, to brandish sword and shield and be ready to raise both in the event of a raid.

In the end that training hadn’t helped. What’s a few blades against a mountain of fire? How can a shield defend a burning corpse?

When all was lost—your mother, father, and the tiny shack you called home, you were ready to give up. Flames licked at your face, and smoke filled your lungs, but a familiar hand tugged you up from your knees and pulled, dragging you as he ran.

Out of the entire village, you and Katsuki are the only survivors.

You’ve thought about the event since your journey to the kingdom began, but in this moment, as the two of you fling water at each other, you don’t think about it at all. All you see is Katsuki’s sharp smile, the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the lightheartedness displayed on his face.

Even when you were kids Katsuki was a little severe. He was loud and abrasive and always scowling. Most of the other children were scared of him, but you never were. Where others saw rabid animal you saw a lonely boy who needed a friend, and you were more than happy to be that friend.

You were just training buddies at first and then your families began sharing meals, trading eggs for milk, splitting chores. Other families in the village had been doing the same for ages, but it had taken meeting Katsuki and his parents for yours to make the same connection.

Swapping meals turned to swapping stories, playing pretend, exploring the tall grasses and woods, and when both of you grew older it all progressed into something much more. Kisses under the moonlight, wildflowers at your window, nervous hands brushing over bare bodies.

Your parents knew and didn’t mind. The assumption was that you and Katsuki would start a family of your own, raise your own strong, passionate children.

Katsuki had other plans, though. A secret he had kept for years.

You’re going to leave me to fight for a king that doesn't care about us? Who keeps us pressed into the dirt with the toe of his boot?

I’m trying to make sure you’re okay! That everyone’ll be taken care of!

Everyone is fine here! We have land we can farm! We have stock to eat and water to drink!

How’s that enough for you?!

Your voices were raised, echoing through the trees that usually hid your late night escapades. Now they hid the end of them.

There was a town nearby. Small but bigger than the village. It had stone streets and places to shop, shelter that would actually keep you dry during storms and warm during winter. If Katsuki became a soldier, he’d be able to move you and his family there.

His family but not yours.

It simply wasn’t an option. You couldn’t leave them behind, and you were appalled that Katsuki would even suggest it. So that was it. That was your last real conversation. Everything else was about milk or eggs or crops. There was nothing left to say. Even when months passed and Katsuki didn’t leave the village you had no words for him, afraid to get reattached only to lose him.

Now, though, in the cleansing waters, it feels like you have everything to say, words that have been stuck in your throat since he pulled you from the cinders of your ruined village.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as he rubs his palms down his chest, nails reddening the muscles of his abdomen then scratching at the trail of hair that travels from his belly button to the water.

“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles, laugh growing when you whip your head away from him. “S’okay. I’m lookin’ too.”

That only makes you turn all the way around, crossing your arms over your breasts as the place between your legs begins to throb. He’s looking at you like that? After everything?

You take a shuddering breath, squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel him touch your hip.

“Don’t.”

His thick fingers curl around the curved bone.

“Kat…”

“Why?” His voice is low, right behind you so that you feel the question on the nape of your neck.

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want you to just because you don’t have any other options. Just because it’s only us.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

His other hand is on you now, both reaching around your waist to lock right above your pelvis.

“Why’d you stop talkin’ to me? Why didn’t we ever make up?”

“Why didn’t you ever leave?” you counter.

He goes rigid, arms tightening around you. “Didn’t want to.” Then, much quieter, “didn’t wanna leave you.”

The words hit you right in the chest, ricocheting in your ribcage. You wiggle to turn in his grasp, eyes wide as they stare into his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

Katsuki frowns. One of those deep frowns. “You wouldn’t give me time of day! Any time you saw me you’d turn around. Could barely fuckin’ look at me.”

“Can you blame me?” You pull yourself out of his arms. “You wanted me to leave my parents behind. You wanted me to leave everything behind!”

“I wanted you to be taken care of! I wanted to take care of you!

You scoff. “I can take care of myself, Katsuki.”

“I know you can, but so can I. And I should,” he rasps. He looks more emotional than you’ve ever seen him, hair plastered to his forehead, water streaming into his pleading eyes. “I should be your husband by now.”

Your brain shuts down momentarily, unsure if you actually heard what he just said. He still wants to marry you?

“Of course I still wanna marry you!” Must have said that out loud. “I still wanna do everything with you. I’d walk through hell if I got to do it with you.”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. Do not show that you’ve been waiting to hear those words since that last fight.

He wipes a tear from under your eye with a calloused thumb, expression softening.

“Well,” you clear your throat, “I guess you’re in luck since we’re going through hell right now. Burnt village. Dead families…”

“Probably gonna get thrown in the dungeons when we get to the palace,” he adds casually. “King doesn’t take too kindly to outsiders.”

“Will you still think I’m pretty when rats start nibbling on my toes?” It’s dark to joke about. But life has not been kind to you as of late, and even in the midst of all of your fear and grief, you’re finally able to crack a smile (sad as it may be), and your stomach flips the way it used to.

“I’ll still think you’re pretty when they eat your face,” he tells you, caressing your cheek. It’s so sincere that it makes you laugh.

“That’s absurd.”

“What’s absurd is that I haven’t kissed you in a god damn eternity.”

You nearly tackle him into the water, arms around his neck as he catches you with a small ‘oof’, and even though the entire top half of your body is exposed to the air, it still feels like you’re entirely submerged. Drowning in Katsuki without want for oxygen.

His lips are chapped just like yours, yet they’re the softest thing you’ve ever felt. Gentle even with hungry teeth, tender even with his greedy tongue.

The water, once cool, feels boiling, like your bodies are giving off steam. His hands grab at your ass, fingertips digging into the fat of it before he lifts you to set you on the riverbank.

You immediately lock your legs around him, like you’re scared of him suddenly disappearing, but Katsuki attaches himself to you in the form of his mouth on your skin, nipping down your neck, sucking bruises down your shoulder and collarbone.

Frantic fingers find their way between your legs, grazing the inside of your thighs before softly brushing your sensitive folds.

“Missed you so much,” Katsuki grumbles, lowering himself in order to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

You hold his head tightly, pulling him further into you. “I missed you too, Kat. So much.”

The first finger sinks into your heat, making you whimper in satisfaction. Katsuki continues to suck on your hardened bud, swirling his tongue around it to distract you from the stretch of his second finger and the slight burn that comes with it.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, I got you.” He uses a thumb to massage your clit, your legs trembling as your body begins to open up for him. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt again.”

“I’m ready,” you tell him. “I want you, please…”

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want you dripping’ before I give you my cock.”

You whine, thighs flexing around his waist. You aren’t giving him much room to work with, but you can’t stand the thought of letting him go. His hand is pressed tightly against you, fingers so deep in your pussy as he pumps and curls them. He finds your spot as if he had just touched you yesterday, always so good at reading you, and kisses your throat when you throw your head back.

He abuses the spongy tissue until you’re leaking into the water below, moaning his name and pulling his hair.

“Please, please, need you, Kat.”

He chuckles, an almost condescending, “shh shh, baby. It’s okay.”

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly—so slowly—his thick cock spreading your gummy walls. He feels impossibly large after so long apart, his tip alone stretching your entrance thin so that you scrunch your eyes shut.

“Feel so good already,” Katsuki groans. He pushes his hips forward, and even through the burn your body sucks him in further, begging for more.

“Takin’ me so well, fuck…”

Once he’s bottomed out, Katsuki stays still for several seconds, and your cunt clenches around him automatically, still trying to adjust to his size.

A slow rhythm to start, steady thrusts that drag along your walls and gently slide over your most sensitive spot. Moans stay caught in your throat, mouth open, and you know that as soon as you start making noise you won’t be able to stop.

Katsuki begins moving his hips faster, making the water splash around you on the bank. The chill of it is a stark contrast from the heat of Katsuki’s body and the affectionate burn in your chest.

His strong hands wrap around your head, holding you as he kisses you fiercely. His rhythm stutters, but his lips move against yours perfectly, forming the words, “I love you,” so desperately that it makes you ache. “I love you, I love you. I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” you breathe heavily into him, muscles tightening with every pointed thrust. Your sticky slickness drips out of you, making the slide of his cock effortless. He feels so good, so deep inside you the way he’s supposed to be. Always supposed to be.

“Squeezin’ me so sweet,” he croons, jaw dropping open as he loses himself in sensation. “Always so sweet to me…”

The feeling of his fingers on your clit again is enough to send you over the edge, your nails digging semi-circles into his back as you cry his name loud enough to echo in the emptiness around you.

The rhythmic pulsing of your orgasm milks the cum from Katsuki’s cock, the warmth of it coating your insides, filling you to the brim. He gasps with every thick string he shoots into you until he’s finally dry.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder for some time, giving you both a chance to catch your breath before you pull him out of the water and topple over into the grass.

The sun is setting, the sky painted orange and pink in the afterglow of yet another day. You admire the way it shines over the treetops, the rays of it bathing you in such a comforting way. Everything will be okay, you think. We can survive as long as we’re together.

“Guess I should go find us some food,” Katsuki eventually muses, adding a smirking, “gotta make sure my woman stays fed.”

You roll your eyes and give him a light shove. “Your woman can feed herself, thank you very much.”

“Don’t I know it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Never seen you so cock-hungry.”

“Oh my gods, Katsuki!”

“I’m just sayin’!” he laughs. More like cackles.

Your glare holds no weight, but you still suck your teeth at him and mumble, “think I’d prefer the rats over this.”

“Won’t be nearly as filling as—”

You cut him off by rolling on top of him and covering his mouth with yours. “Stop talking.”

He hums, settling his hands on the small of your back. “Only if you keep doin’ this.”

“I will if you keep your promise to marry me.”

“Second I can, I will.”

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize, alter, or repost my work to any other platforms.

barbarian bakugou who has an arranged marriage with you to strengthen the kingdom and refuses to accept he's actually falling in love with you along the way

Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Warnings: mention of injury

Bakugo had married you as a plot for his own strength, for his tribes strength. You were a means to an end for his dream, and past the official ceremony for your lives to be intertwined, he still hadn’t changed his mind on that. He never even considered changing his mind, because he simply didn’t acknowledge you, he didn’t need to. As if he had some sort of tunnel mindset, that focussed on one thing and only that, to be the best. Everything around him was blackened, cast into darkness by a shadow, apart from his one goal. This was an arranged marriage of convenience. And that was it.

And at some point, you understood that. Particularly on the day, when his large rough hands held yours, as he promised his life to you without a single ounce of his heart truly in his vows. You weren’t a soulmate to him, or barely even a wife, you were a ladder for him to climb over and reach a new piece of land to conquer. What did you expect from a barbarian? All they knew were how to kill and strike chaos, you doubted love was even a developed concept to his kind of people, or maybe they just didn’t care for anything that wasn’t covered in blood. And having understood that, you gave up trying to be that caring wife you really wanted to be. Or at least you tried.

It was hard, pretending a part of your heart didn’t want to love him, because you really wanted to. Bakugo is a hard worker, and took care of your every need be it clothes, wine or any precious jewel from any other land if you ever asked, but none of his heart or even an ounce of feeling was ever put into it, he done it only because you asked and part of that made it hurt even more when asking him for anything. And so, slowly giving up on getting him to be a loving husband to you, you simply and only attended your official wifely duties like attending public feasts with him, but kept yourself much more distant from him in all other aspects. It hurt too much to be near him, like standing close to the sun. But in the same way, standing too far from the sun would kill you, so you remain close enough where it stings, but you at least survive.

And maybe that’s what’s triggered this all, now that Bakugo thinks back to it. When that initial off-putting glow in your eyes faded to a glassed over, dull and greyed look. Maybe that’s when he started to look at you more, see you more. All when it felt a little too late. Seeing you slowly give up on trying to be that intimate lover you wanted to be for him, that he never really wanted, instead you became a more quiet version of yourself. More mute, less touching, more forced. It bothered him.

He notices it, without even realising he’s noticed it. How you go from trying to link arms with him and walk side by side with him, to walking constantly 3 steps behind him. Like some sort of subordinate, you were quick to understand your position in this marriage and somehow that irritated him. Only he would be able to able to be mad about someone doing their job too well. Call him picky, but he didn’t know why it annoyed him himself.

You still shared a bed, the shame of not sharing one was far greater than the shame of exposing yourselves to each other, was it how your skin felt? Was that what caused it all? Bakugo felt like, when he looked at you something deep in his chest was capsizing, a cavity grew there and it ached. As any man would, he continued to ignore it. But when your skin brushed against his in bed, when he felt that warmth your body hid away behind cold stares, it was hard to ignore that ache. Instead that ache would travel from his heart to his mind, and then it does it’s loathe-some wandering.

Thinking of you.

The more he tries to figure out why, the more you consume his thoughts, even when all bloody on hunting grounds, on the edge between severe injury and a bounty able to feed a family for a week, he still thinks of you. The way you smelt when you were against him in the morning unintentionally while you slept. That way you have some more colour and life to your expressions when you talk to the maids or get a nice cut of meat on your plate at dinner. And the way you- fuck. He’s cut his hand while tackling down a boar without even realising it. It’s your fault.

Its you. It’s all you. Why he’s acting weird or can’t even think, its all because of you, somehow sometime you’ve done something to him and he hates the feeling of it. And that powerlessness he feels of being so strong and feared, yet unable to figure out this lingering feeling he has bothers him even more.

You smiled at the seamstress today. And even spared a laugh. Katsuki didn’t intend on walking in on it, but he was passing by, on his way to the armoury when he saw you talking with the aged woman. You looked pretty when you smiled.

Pretty.

When was it he started having words like that in his vocabulary? Maybe when he called over the female jeweller, asking her what would be the best and most precious jewel he could give you. What was he doing anymore? Barbarians didn’t give each other shiny stones on delicate chains, they offered the skins of the most ferocious beasts in the land as a sign of deathly devotion. That was until he found out courting behaviours where you came from were much different. So here he is trying to accommodate to your customs. For you.

What is he doing?

He tries to deny it for a few weeks, pretending it’s nothing. He must be tired, stressed, heck maybe he’s just adjusting himself to having a woman so close to him. But pretending becomes less and less possible by the day. He hates waking up next to you. You always look so defenceless, the guard you have up around him constantly has vanished while you lay there asleep, face completely relaxed, hair unruly, skin bright, much like the you that he met before you married. On most days, he’ll force himself out of bed, pretending he’s having insane thoughts only because he just woke up. He must be half asleep.

Denial.

The fact that you consume his every waking thought makes him more antsy around you, more agitated. He can’t stand the sight of you, yet equally when you’re away, his mind obsesses over you even more. He’s reached a point where the only time he can silence his mind with all its incessant thoughts of you is when you’re right by his side, but that causes a whole new problem for his heart. When was the first time you started to fill his mind with thoughts of you you you? When his heart ached around you and apart from you, when his throat itched every time he spoke to yo-

He remembers now. It was the first winter night you spent together wedded, by then you were only wed for two seasons, and this winter were to be the roughest yet, where things become their worst and darkest in the tribe. Food becomes scarce, the weather becomes cold and brutal, and more people become irritable in these harsh conditions. Katsuki hated the cold, and he hated having to hunt in the winter even more. It was a shitty day, and unexpectedly he came home with an injury from a wild animal he wasn’t prepared to face. It was a large cut on his arm, still bleeding but slowly by the time he arrived home. He remembers that look in your eyes, pure fear, not of him but for him. He remembers how you stayed awake all night, sitting by him with a warm cloth, helping him with his wound. You didn’t even need to do all of that. You shouldn’t have to, there are plenty people equipped in the tribe able to take care of wounds like that. But you insisted he sat down and helped him. Your skin was warm. And your touch was soft, far softer than anything he had experienced from others around him.

His cut was ugly, with dried blood already covering half of it, while the other half spewed more, and he could tell you hated the sight of it, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you pulled a pained, contorted face at every swab to his injury said it all. And yet, as much as you hated it, you did it for him. You helped him take care of it, even after he insisted he could do it himself and that you should sleep. He watched your tired eyes as you let his blood dirty your clean hands throughout the whole night. He asked why you even bothered, because you didn’t need to do all shit. What the fuck was it you said to him that night?

“Because I’m your wife.”

Yeah it was then. Thats when he first felt that feeling. What caused this whole mess in his mind and heart in the first place.

Or probably, it was all of it. A little bit of everything, that made him stop thinking of you as a tool, and more as a woman, his wife, his love. Seeing you for who you were, more than what you let him see, and trying to understand you more. The more he thinks of it, the more the pieces all start to fit into a much bigger picture he was too blind to see before. He had only focussed on one piece for so long that he had lost sight of that big picture, which made it all the more impactful when he stood back and finally looked at it all at once.

Love.

Did he really love you? He must have. It’s the only explanation for his absurd behaviour. To think someone responsible for so much spilt blood was able to reserve the most tender part of his heart for something as delicate as love. It’s a shock, and he refuses to believe it at first, but the more he rejected the idea, the more it became obvious to him that he did love you. It’s why he insisted you stayed by him whenever you could, why he even bothered anymore in this marriage.

Unfortunately, he’s a little late, you’ve already lost your hope in having him love you. He hurt you without even trying to, without laying a hand on you. And somehow that made it hurt even more. Once Katsuki realises his fault, he’ll start to live his live devoted to you tirelessly, because if given the chance to earn your love all over again, even if he worked to the day he die for it, he’d take it.

I hope you like this! I love writing about mixed emotions and pining… so this was super fun to write :) if you enjoyed, don’t be shy to like, comment or reblog, because I read everything you guys say!

pandemonium

noun; wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar. Also: a chaotic situation

Katsuki Bakugou X Reader

WC: 1.7K

Just thinking about how Katsuki doesn't realize how loud his life actually is. 

It's no surprise that the pro hero is well known for being loud, and down right rude to top it off. He was content with the life he had led so far. Sure it had its ups and downs, but he made it work in his favor. He was strong and damn near unbeatable when it came to his line of work. 

One of the aspects he hated about his job was the way people looked into his success and failures. Picking through the wreckage of his battles with a fine tooth comb until the paparazzi had something to stalk him about that week. Worming their way into a closed off scene to get the first pictures of the wreckage he managed to leave behind. 

Thye were loud.

Following him foolishly from each scene of battle, all the way back to the agency. And sometimes either the extremely brave, and mostly stupid one trying to follow him home. 

And tonight was no exception. 

He left quite a but of damage to the two blocks of the city he fought in. Damages ranged from broken windows to demolished cars. And a small army of paparazzi and reporters were attempting to follow him as he left the agency for the night. 

It bothered him more than it normally would tonight. Had him barking and yelling insults as the cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions. He was faster, just enough to put a block of distance between them when he spotted a cracked door to the library. 

He took his chance and rushed the door and closed it behind him. Resting his back against the wall keeping a lookout for the crowd to pass by. He could hear their voices and see the lights as they rushed by, a small breath of relief left him as he managed to escape just in time. 

"I'm sorry sir, but the library is closed." Your soft voice rings out in the silence. 

Almost comically slow he turns his head and sees you standing just at the main entrance, with a large stack of heavy books in your hands. Looming taken back by the massive pro standing in your workplace. 

But he also notices the way your struggling to keep the heavy load in your arms. And it's calling out to his base hero instincts to help a civilian out. Not taking longer than a moment to huff and stride over to you and take the books from your hands. 

"Gonna throw yer back out trying to carry that shit" He gruffs, waiting for you to lead the way. 

And you do. 

Quietly, he appreciates it. You don't try to force a conversation or ask him why he's there. You simply lead him down the endless isles and occasionally take a book from the top of his pile and place it on the shelf. Humming softly as you went. Dragging your hand down the spines of the books, double checking you were in the right area for the next book before placing it in the right spot. 

And by the time you pluck the last book from his hands, he feels a weird emotion brewing in his chest. 

Peace. 

His shoulders didn't feel as tight compared to when he walked in. His heart wasn't beating a mile a minute anymore. He didn't want to admit he felt calm with anyone, especially a stranger.

But after that night he learned your name, and you sent him on his way with a gentle nudge out the backdoor and a fucking apple juice box of all things.. 

Perhaps that random act of kindness from you was the reason he found himself doing the same thing a week later. Finding you slowly stacking books on the counter, ready to pull them into your arms when you look over and see him.

"Oh, hello again!" You spoke softly, but the smile you has on your face made him feel warmed. 

The same thing happens again, he carries your heavy stack of books. You hum a song, and he feels lighter than he ever has by the time you take the last book from his calloused hands. 

This time he finds himself not wanting to leave as quickly. Content to watch you from the desk chair as you tidy up for a while. Still happily humming away some song that reminds him of his childhood.

He walks you home that night, claiming that it was too dangerous to let you wall home alone at night. He asks questions, small ones at first. Like where you're from, and how you ended up here of all places. Your likes and dislikes. Finally dropping you off safely at the front door of your home, waiting until your inside and he can hear the lock shut on the other side before he starts his journey home. 

It took him a extra hour of walking, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he climbed into bed that night. 

Those late evenings of sneaking into the library, slowly started to turn into him bringing dinner for you to share, and he eventually started to open up. He also found himself sitting closer to you on the large couch in the back, as you would read. He asked you that one time what you were reading and you started to read it out loud to him. 

It was soothing, listening to your voice. Calm but excited to read him a book he had no real interest in. But the way you read each word had him wanting to hear more. You chipped away small pieces of his hard exterior with only the sound of your voice and the turn of a page. 

He wanted to despise those paparazzi idiots who tailed him after every fight, looking for anything they could use as a headline. The true cockroaches of the earth, as they twist his words and take sneaky photos of him when he looks absolutely feral. Playing up the image that he was more monster than a man. 

 But if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have you. 

Almost two years later he finds himself walking the same familiar path to the library. It looks like the normal crowd of people with the same set of questions and flashing lights following behind him. 

He can't be bothered to outrun them this time though. Instead he smirks as he turns the corner and slips inside the back entrance of the library, walking until he sees you. Sitting in your chair behind the front counter, playing on your phone. 

Your hair is slightly messy, and your shoes kicked off and out of the way. That same stack of large books sitting on the counter, waiting for him. You smile gently at him as he walks into view. It was something he had come to love after all this time. The way such a simple gesture made his heart warm in ways he never thought it could. 

And just like he had so many nights before he takes the stack of books from the desk and lets you lead him down the rows of books. Offering him a run down of your day, leaving him to hum softly when you give him the newest hot gossip with the older ladies.

 He wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

You were the peace to his violence. the beacon of hope he searched for after a rough day. The gentle sway of your hips and the little tap of your fingertips along the backs of the books as you walked.

 It wasn’t the silence in his world he wanted, it was you. 

Your smile, your goofy laugh. The way your arms reached out to pull him in after a hard day. It was were the small things you offered him with for no reason. Contrasting his brute strength and loud personality with something more delicate. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl into a soft smile as he followed behind you, the weight of books lightening the more you wandered. 

And he definitely enjoyed the way you still squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his embrace before he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. Whispering about how much he loves you, into your ear.

 He adored the flustered look you always wore when he said something borderline filthy. Even in the freezing cold temperature of the library, he could feel your skin heat under his fingertips. Being bold enough to push you to sit on a low counter and bully his way between your legs. Sighing softly against his neck as he works his hands under your blouse. 

He lived for the whine you always made when you forced him to stop. Complaing that there were cameras around, and the last thing you wanted was to star in an amature movie while you were at work. 

If he could, he would live in the moment forever. In the safe and silent confines of the Library. 

But instead he does the right thing, and helps you readjust your shirt. Guiding you down from the counter and helping you finish with whatever bullshit task you still needed to complete before he could take you home. 

Flipping off the lights and lacing his fingers with yours as you lock the door behind you. 

The flashing lights and yells of his name didn’t bother him as much now. Because As he pulls you to stop in just the most picture perfect way. Making sure the cameras catch the name of the library above your head, he smirks at them all before he bends down on one knee. Your eyes alive with tears of joy once you realize what is going on. 

Pulling out the box hes been carrying around in his pocket for six months now, and showing it to you. He opens it and he can’t help but let the image of you be burned into his mind for eternity. Your happy squeal and little jumps as he takes the ring out of the box and gives you a look that speaks more than his loud voice ever could. 

“What do ya say, bookworm?” He smirks as you are already nodding your head and whispering yes. “Think the library will care if I check you out and never bring you back?” 

*If you enjoyed this little snippit, please consider leaving a like or a reblog. I enjoy writing, and I would like to know if you enjoyed it as well. Your likes and comments are greatly appericated♥

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. in every other universe.

about. “in every other universe, gwen stacey falls for spiderman. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well.” - inspired by this bkg art @/kingkatsuki sent me and by self love.

warnings. none. fluff, slight angst, happy ending, across the spiderverse spoilers, spiderverse!bakugou & fem!reader.

once you know that you’re not the only one out there — it’s hard to go back to your regular life. not everyone can do the things that katsuki bakugou can do, you know, shoot webs, fight crime and save the day. it’s isolating. it’s lonely. he knows that he should feel blessed, it’s not every day that you’re given superhuman abilities and the power to change the world.

some days the truth about his identity, the words ‘i’m spiderman.’ sit eagerly on the tip of his tongue — desperate to be pushed out into open and heard by the people he loves. his mom, his dad, even his stupid roommate, kirishima. but if bakugou burdens them with the truth, then he puts them at risk too. losing his childhood friend deku had been more than enough, he couldn’t lose someone else too.

other days he remembers there are others just like him, dotted across the universe in their own connections and constellations — there’s his mentor, there’s his friends… there’s you.  it’s been a year since your world’s were once able to collide and bakugou has tried (and failed) to move on from you and devote himself to saving the day. your smile, your eyes, your drive, your bravery — he would be stupid to purposely forget all of that. 

he’s also a little weird for kicking back in his desk chair, mindlessly spinning around his dorm room (after patching himself up where katsuki had just gotten his ass kicked) thinking about the curve of your lips and how your voice sounds when you speak…

“hey katsuki! katsuki… wanna hangout?” 

in surprise, the blonde tips backwards in his seat, bakugou’s back hitting the floor with a harsh thud that causes pain to blossom somewhere along his shoulder blades. “what the fuck?” he grunts through a stream of colourful curses. he must be imagining things. crushing too hard on someone he’s not supposed to ever be able to see again. you can’t be here. it’s not physically possible. 

but through his searing pain and frustrated hisses, bakugou manages to crack a ruby red eye open — letting his gaze bare witness to the swirling, bright portal in his ceiling and the girl he’s still hung up over just peeking through. 

he really has to watch out for those punches to the head — he’s going insane.

“what the actual fuck?” 

amused laughter streams from between your lips, muffled slightly by the signature piece of a spider-person’s consume. you pull back the mask of your spider-suit which don the colours of your universe and grin. bright and beautiful. it makes bakugou’s heart squeeze in his chest. “dang, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” you tease, letting the web that holds you up sink further out of the portal until you’re hanging just above the foul-mouthed blonde. “good to see you too, hot shot.”

“what— how are y’even here?” bakugou sits up, fighting the twitches in his face and the real meaning to words on the tip of his tongue. i missed you. 

your face tells the story he longs too, your pretty eyes nostalgic and warm. you’ve missed him as well. “oh you know, just thought i’d swing by.” 

“that was fuckin’ terrible.”

“come on, katsuki, you liked it.” i like you. is what he really wants to say back.

he can practically feel your breathy laughter on his lips and taste your vanilla perfume. hanging upside down and in front of him is way too compromising of a position — he might kiss you if he’s not careful.

“fuckin’ dumbass.” bakugou puts a hand on your face and uses it to push you away before you can get any closer. you lose your balance, coming crashing down from the ceiling once your web snaps and the portal closes. he’s quick to crawl over to you, not evening thinking abound space now when there’s been entire universes and timelines between you up until this moment. “shit, you okay? forgot how clumsy you were.” 

he utters fondly, mostly under his breath — in a way that’s impossible to miss with how bakugou leans over you. his face full of bursting concern. you don’t dare to move, taking in said face. observing how much it’s changed since you were last on earth-420. how his eyes are harder, less youthful but still wild. how his lips look softer, fuller — you wonder what chapstick he’s been using. how his chin is stronger and his face more defined and his nose slightly shifted and—

“you’re no different than before, still a meanie.” you quip, voice wistful. quiet. “you grew out your hair.” reaching up, you brush your fingers over the soft tips of his ash blonde locks — closing your eyes at the feel of them, as if you’re basking in sunlight. 

“yeah.” bakugou hums. “yours is different too.” 

“you think? do you like it.” 

“‘f’course.” he keens into your touch as it cascades down to his cheeks. “you always look good.” 

“you haven’t seen me in a while.”  

“doesn’t mean i don’t think about you.” 

“ah…me too.” 

“y’think about me?” 

a beat of silence passes and you don’t speak for a while. you’re both afraid you might hear each other’s hearts racing. ever since i jumped back into that collider.” rolling out from underneath katsuki, you sit up with your back to him and fiddle with your spandex mask. “let’s go for a swing.” 

you’re up and throwing open his dorm window before bakugou can even register — leaving him to deal with his erratic pulse and pink kissed cheeks. it’s crazy how time apart made him only want you more. how he can’t have you because you’re not even meant to be here, even if there’s some kind of gravitational force from the universe pulling you together. when you don’t hear him coming after you, you turn to face him from the window ledge — he can see the longing even in the reflective lenses of your suit. 

“you coming?” 

bakugou’s entire body screams at him to say yes, every fibre of his being itching to be with you. but his one fatal flaw keeps him rooted in place on his knees. he can’t hurt you. can't tell you his feelings knowing he’ll never have a way of acting on them. 

“can’t, got homework.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “i’m a college kid now, remember?” 

he can already tell that you’re rolling your eyes from under the mask even when you shrug back — tipping yourself out of the window, knowing that he’ll chase you. bakugou watches you, half amused, half annoyed as you stand up straight and defy all laws of everything by sticking to the side of his dorm building. 

“does Spider-Man have homework?”

all he can do is shake his head at you. both in amusement and in disbelief.

talking to you eases all the tension katsuki bakugou’s shoulders bare. 

it’s easy to be with you because you understand what it’s like to be alone in protecting the people you love and the communities you care about. hiding your face and cowering away from friends and family in the real world — every day life. you get why wearing the mask is both a blessing and a curse. it cost you your mother’s love. it cost you your home. and now you surf through universes to find your place amongst the other spider people that exist… and yet, katsuki, as you confess — is the only one to bring you comfort. 

whilst swinging and soaring through the streets of katsuki’s city, you tell him all of the nitty gritty details. no one wants a vigilante for a daughter. he holds his tongue in telling you that he wants you instead. you giggle when you explain to him all the worlds you’ve seen and people you’ve met through being apart of this elite spider-team. and when bakugou asks how a pipsqueak like you managed to get in before he did — you cock your head to the side innocently and say…

“you’re an asshole, katsuki. we can’t have you clashing with the number one in charge.”

bakugou has to pull his mask up to breathe while he laughs — snorting so hard that he almost misses a stride while swinging through the sunset-stained streets with you. by the time golden hour sets it’s sights upon you both, he’s taken you to the highest point in musutafu to watch the sun disappear beyond the horizon. 

when the world gets him down — katsuki comes up here to think and clear his head of any doubts that might be holding him back. it’s peaceful up here, away from the crime cracking on below and the bustling mundane city traffic. often times, he thinks of you too…so sharing this spot with you by his side is extremely intimate to him.

you’re talking but bakugou will admit he’s not really listening, too entranced by the shapes your lips form around each word, at least until you say his name. “you’re the only one who’s ever, truly got me, katsuki.” you tell him, swinging your feet off the ledge of the building. if you fall, your instincts would catch you…but you know katsuki would be the first to save you. 

“could say the same thing about you.” he admits, the burnt orange spider crest on his chest heaving with bakugou’s nervous sigh. he pinches at the black latex suit covering his fingers — debating on inching his hand closer to yours.

if you notice, you don’t say anything about it. “in every other universe, spiderman gets the girl.” katsuki swallows as you speak, ruby eyes darting all over your pretty face outlined by warm tone natural lights — your masks long discarded. “and in every other universe…it doesn’t end well. for either of them.”

you don’t bother finishing your sentence, swallowing the lump in your throat along with the fate you might meet if you lean into your greed to be with katsuki. it’s only then that you notice his hand slipping away, retreating behind the wall he builds up around himself — to keep himself closed off and protected from getting hurt. 

“i wish i could change that.” he mumbles distantly, looking out at the world, the universe as if he’s been scorned. cursed by the mask once more. it’s like the stars have turned against him and are mocking him as they come out to play — reminding bakugou that everyone he’s ever loved will get hurt because of him…eventually. everyone including you. “prove ‘em wrong, yanno?” 

even still, he offers you his signature lazy smirk and twinkling mischievous red eyes and you can’t help but fall for him all over again. 

“yeah,” comes your soft reply. “maybe there’s a chance that things can work out.” 

“a first time for everythin’, yeah?”

this time, neither of you pull back as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. 

for a moment, the world stills. freezing time for the only two people in the universe may truly understand one another. 

freezing, for you and katsuki. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

well, i've been saved by the grace of southern charm—

PLAYLIST | ARTWORK

cowboy!bakugou x f!reader

wc: 20k+

tags: explicit language, smut, 18+, story within a story, toxic relationship (in the past), kids LOL (reader has a niece and nephew), minor mentions of christianity (not related to reader), use of the word daddy in a strictly non-sexual way, bakugou is bad at feelings, grammar is a mess, minor sexism (not to reader), there is nothing linear about this culturally, and a genuine theme about accepting that we deserve better and shouldn't settle for less just because it's comfortable.

for the @mybigbangacademia collab !

“Blasty’s been checking you out for twenty minutes, by the way.”

When you look up at her, she seems pleased and surprisingly entertained and is smiling around the gum she’s chewing, eyes cutting twice in quick succession to the pool table in the back. This is girl code for look, but don’t look and you know that, but you’re still caught up on the Blasty part, because you can’t figure out what that means, and peek over your shoulder anyway.

And then you realize Blasty means the handsome guy leaning next to the jukebox, nursing a half-empty Budweiser and staring hard at the taxidermied bass hanging over the bar above your head. The bartender hisses and you flip back around, frowning a little at her because you’ve just sold her out and she knows it and so does he. Blasty. Who’s been checking you out for twenty minutes, by the way.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

* the incredible artwork for the fic was done by @fittsythesnail ! she's so talented and wonderful to work with and you'd be lucky to receive a commission from her ! please go check out the rest of her work !

* the header artwork was painted by my bestie @moonilla ! i am so thankful to her for rushing it out, and i hope you all appreciate it as much as i do ! ( i tagged her to give credit for her time, but please note that her blog is not an art blog ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ )

ma’am i only found your blog yesterday but your ex hubby bakugo got me in a trance, and i hsjsksksksksk, but ill present you: ‘drunk ex husband bakugo’ i- i mean he would be so silly and calls you at 1am to tell you how much he loves you and the little one and how much he misses you, babbles away all the nonsense else, but the way he murmurs and mumbles silly things on the phone got you giggle at midnight (and sad at the time because holy hell you miss him too), then you have to talk him out of it to go home and sleep, he listens, he goes home, yeah, and 10 minutes later he shows up at your front door (still hella woozy) because he is just that stupidly drunk and he has always wanted to go home to you :((

ANON ??? OUCH ????? THIS MAKES ME SAD AKFJSODHAIA

i've always wanted to do drunk ex-whathaveyou bakugou that shows up at your door too late 🥺 but in this instance !! i feel like. you get a few calls in the middle of the night, but they're very short ?? like you wake up to your phone ringing and it's his number, so you're reaching for it, but it stops before you can answer. and you're thinking, "darn i must have slept through the first few rings," and as you're typing out a text to check in with him, he calls again for like two rings, and then it stops. and then he calls and it rings for one and then it stops.

and so now you're like — okay maybe he's butt-dialing me LOL but he tries again like 20 minutes later and you're so tired of the ring-tone that you answer it as fast as you can and just listen, waiting to see if you can hear his voice distantly, as if you're down in his back-pocket.

but he grumbles, "—the fuck? hello?"

and you ask him, "uh hey, have you been trying to call me?" but you're almost certain he doesn't hear you, because half-way through you are able to hear the loud background music and then the sound of shuffling, his grumpy lil "—the fuck off me, 'm—shut th'hell up—'m on the DAMN PHONE!"

clearly, there's a struggle, so you just kind of wait, worried you're about to hear your ex-husband get nerfed while on patrol maybe ?? but then the music drops away and is replaced by a barely-there scratchy wind, and he's breathless when he asks if you're still there.

"yeah, no, i'm still here. is...everything okay?"

he huffs, so heavy into the phone that the static almost hurts your ears. "whadda'you think?"

it's bitter enough that you blink in the darkness of your room, before glaring at the opposite wall. "excuse me?"

"fuck, 'm sorry, i—fuck." he inhales audibly, stuttering. "i'm sorry."

you frown, head turning; he sounds lazy, like he can't be assed to speak properly, and he's speaks impolitely on the regular — but it's never this bad. all his words sound curved, looped together, and he's shuffling too much on the other end, sniffing loud and mumbling to himself. almost like he's—

"are you...drunk?"

you're expecting an immediate no, even if evidence is proving otherwise, because he's not a drinker. occasionally, when he's out for dinner or at one of kirishima's backyard barbecues, but it's so infrequent that his tolerance is low, for someone of his size. it doesn't take much to have him a little sloshed, and he hates it, not only for the feeling the day after, but because his mouth tends to run. more than usual.

"it's that fuckin'—dunce head ass 'n his—stupid piano teeth, tape-face—"

kaminari and sero, you think. you think.

"'n i didn't want to fuckin' come to shit like this, ever. because they're so 'blah fuckin' blah, get over yourself', as if i'm—whatever. dumbasses." he pauses, and before you can finish piecing together what he's trying to say, he continues. "'n i'm not even like them, because they're fucking losers, and i don't—i don't even want that chick's number, okay? i don't fuckin' care, okay?"

your heart throbs dangerously, suddenly swollen and too tender, at the very thought of him and someone else, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut tight. "bakugou—"

"bakugou?" he cuts you off loudly, offended. "'r'you fuckin'—sorry, shit. bakugou? you're a goddamn bakugou—"

you have the throw the blankets off your lap so that you can hurry to your bedroom door, to shut it before hissing at him. "i'm not gonna sit here and get cussed out, katsuki. we're divorced."

"sorry! fuck, i'm—i mean—sorry, sorry. 'm not—it ain't at you, y'know? you know that, right?"

and you do. you do know that. it's just how he talks, he would tell you, and he would cut down on it for a little while before it inevitably came back and — it just hurts, at times. to be on the receiving end of his hottest flame.

"yeah," you tell him quietly, leaning against the door when he sighs. "yeah, i know."

"she—" he groans, deep and frustrated. "she fuckin'—god, sorry. she did that t'me all th'time, y'know? 'cut the fuckin' attitude, katsuki,' 'n then fuckin' SMACK!" you can hear the sharp sound of his slap, metallic, like he's against a lamp post or something. "but then she's comin' up t'my room, all like, 'y'know i love you' 'n—how 'm i suppos' t'know that stuff?"

he's never really spoken about his childhood; his parents, yes, through comments here and there about how they irritated him, but nothing serious. you've seen firsthand how tumultuous his relationship with his mother is, and she still smacks him around, but he's big now, much bigger than she is; you never considered what it was like for him, when he was younger.

even if he is drunk, even if he won't remember tomorrow — you still want to be there for him.

you realize he's waiting for an answer, with how long he's quiet, and you shrug to yourself before gently saying, "i don't know, katsuki. it sounds like it would have been very confusing."

"yeah, i mean—" he exhales slowly, though the end trails off into a growl, as if he's grown frustrated again. "i would never fuckin' hit you."

"i know that, katsuki, and i've never thought you would. and i would never hit you, either, y'know?"

"yeah," he repeats, and you can hear him swallowing, the sound so thick that you think he might choke. "i'd never hit you, or—or—hey, where is he? i wanna talk to 'im."

at the mention of your son, you peek down the hall to make sure his door isn't open, that he's not snooping around like you've caught him doing lately — but it's still mostly closed, and you don't hear any little feet against the hardwood.

you squint at your phone, blinded momentarily at the blue-light as you check the time. "it's the middle of the night, katsuki, he's asleep."

"did he have a good day?"

"yeah, he—"

"tell me about it. tell me th-the whole thing."

and — you do, as he listens and grunts and murmurs little things you don't catch. occasionally, he'll groan, really quiet like he's trying not to cry, and it's after the third time he asks to speak to him again that you finally decide to call him an uber.

and you put in his home address !!! but not thirty minutes later, you are sort of roused out of sleep because he's lightly knocking on your door, in the middle of the night, and you have to get up and go check so he doesn't wake your son up !!!!

and he's probably a MESS, all red-faced and SAD, rubbing at his eyes, almost tripping into your house because he was leaning against the door. it's not even worth arguing about getting him to his actual home because it's late and he's being a little loud, so you just give him some water and make him lay down on the couch and — he's out like a light right away LOL

but. you wake up a few hours later to him laying in your bed, on top of the blankets, his pants are on the floor but his shirt and jacket are still on LOL and he's not quite touching you, but if you jostle even a little bit, his face will press into your back 🥺 you don't know when he got up and came into your room, but he was sober enough to be quiet about it, and when you wake up in the morning, he's already re-dressed and sitting with your son at the kitchen table 🥺

WAAAAHHH i made this so sad. i'm so sorry akjfajfajaljfa he's such a BABY !!! god help me, bc if it really was me, i would take him back in a heartbeat LOL

His Muse

Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader Warnings: Yandere Bakugou, Obsessive Tendencies, psychoanalyst therapist reader, smut, extremely dubious consent, stalking, kindapping (tagging to be safe), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampies, kitchen sex, strength kink, threats of violence (not to reader). please let me know if I missed anything! Word Count: 6.5k Notes: this isn't a more violent yandere fic, and has lots of bargaining and dub con, just as a warning!! but I can't believe I came up with this idea in November omg I move so slow when it comes to full fics. also I tried gradient style for the title and I love it lol it was so fun to try. anyway, please enjoy!! Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Bakugou comes to you to be his therapist, you don’t think twice about it. He filled out his application correctly, he answered when you called, his insurance went through, his problems sounded legit. You had become wary taking on new patients in your field—dealing with criminals, those with hardened and extensive records, people with all kinds of issues that an everyday therapist wouldn’t be able to handle accordingly. But you did it all (someone had to), so your vetting process was a little heavier than usual, if the therapy wasn’t state mandated. 

But Bakugou Katsuki passed with flying colors. If anything, he sounded a little too normal for your line of work, but he kept promising that his issues would be better discussed during sessions. With a little hesitance, you agree and take him on. 

He’s…okay, for the most part. A little gruff, rough around the edges and snappy when you try to touch on certain topics of his life. But in general, he’s a great patient; he pays on time, shows up five minutes early, doesn’t linger when your next patient comes buzzing, doesn’t try to touch you or seek out personal information from you. 

If anything, he still seems a bit too strait-laced for you. That is, until he starts to delve into why he really wants to come to therapy—to deal with his tendencies of rage, lashing out, and obsession. You had told him that you didn’t deal much with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but he had assured you that, no, his obsessions and compulsions weren’t about checking the locks a certain amount of times on a Wednesday, but instead about people. 

He obsessed over people, and when things wouldn’t go his way, his rage would rear its ugly head. He still hasn’t told you what his rage specifically looks like, especially with how he momentarily glances over at your little message pinned on your wall that warns people about admitting criminal acts that you’d have to report, damn the confidentiality. 

“When did these obsessions start?” You ask him, body tilted toward him even though your eyes and hands move to your open computer. You document what he says, take note of it all, skimming over previous notes from other appointments. 

“Maybe about eighteen months ago?” Bakugou’s voice is gravelly, deep and grating against the column of his throat. As he answers, he shoves his hands in his sweats pockets, scoots down a little further on your adjacent couch, looks around the room as if he hadn’t been in here a few times before. 

“So this is a more recent development?” You ask, humming under your breath and nodding when he grunts an affirmation. You type, obsessive tendencies over people started less than two years ago, could be trauma based, and you wonder if he can read the words through the reflection of your glasses when you look over to see his eyebrows screwed down. 

“Was it sudden for you?” You cock your head to the side, before shaking your head. “Let me rephrase; did these tendencies ever show their faces in other aspects of your life? Different time periods, situations? Or was it just a sudden thing that happened, something you realized once the obsession had already begun?” He starts nodding his head before you can even finish, his ash blond bangs shadowing his eyes for a second in such a way that sends a prickle of chills up your arms. You don’t know why, so you try to swallow the feeling down until it burns at the back of your throat, shifting a little in your cushioned seat. Bakugou watches you for a second before he opens his mouth to speak. 

“It was sudden.” He answers, plainly, doesn’t offer up much else until you cock an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to go on. He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath, shifting again before he shrugs dramatically with his hands still in his pockets. 

“I dunno, I was fuckin’ normal until I wasn’t.” You chuckle a little at his tone, crossing your legs under the desk, watching how Bakugou’s vermillion eyes dart down to catch the sight of them, before they slide back up to your face. 

“You’ve been in a relationship before?” You state more than ask, eyebrows slid high on your face in question, watching Bakugou roll his eyes a little before he nods. 

“Yeah.” He offers, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously not wanting to offer up too much information on the topic. 

“How many?” You push. How the hell does he expect you to help him when he keeps giving you short answers, nothing to work with? Why even seek out your help if he acts like being here is such a nuisance to deal with?

“Two.” Bakugou says through gritted teeth, eyes cutting at the decorations you have hung on the walls. “What does this have to do with anything, anyway?” He spits, cuts his eyes at you once more as you narrow your own at him. 

“I’m trying to find a connection between your sudden obsessive tendencies with your relationships with people in the world.” You clarify for him, sitting up a little in your seat as his own irritation bubbling off of him starts to sink into your pores, too. 

“People rarely have sudden personality flips and switches with no leading causes beforehand. Did these tendencies start because of preexisting mommy issues that were suddenly uncovered after being repressed for years? Were you in a long and committed relationship, which ended in such a way that it wasn’t necessarily on your terms, even if it was ultimately your own call? Was it an accident you were in? Have you always been like this and never realized it? Do you understand what I’m saying, Katsuki?” 

…

Bakugou isn’t taking in a single word that you’re telling him. He wishes he could; he’s sure you’re saying some real shit that he should most likely take into consideration. But its so hard to focus when you look at him like that, when your neck rolls a little with every word, when your foot bounces under the desk, the way your lips curve just so. 

You’re the reason he’s even here right now. The bane of his fuckin’ existence, but also the  only thing that matters to him in the world. 

You are his obsession. His muse, his fantasy, his daydream turned reality. And it’s all your fucking fault. With how you prance around your home with your curtains open, wearing nothing but slutty little shirts and no bra, no pants, just panties that sink into the curves of your ass and thighs. How you just go about your life without a care in the fucking world, always so oblivious to everything around you. 

You hadn’t even noticed him, the months he spent watching over you. Didn’t catch his lingering stares, or how his ash blond head of hair always seemed to be at least ten feet behind you with every step you took. How your long time neighbor from across the hall suddenly disappeared, how a new tenant moved in when he knew you’d be out. How you forget entirely too often to lock your door, to put your used panties in the hamper. How you tease him with everything, how you’ve been fucking leading him on for over a year and a half now. 

So, he had to get desperate. Had to search you up and find what qualifications he needed in order to be seen by you, a psychoanalytical therapist for those who want to be reformed. 

But Bakugou had no plans on reformation. There was nothing for him to be reformed on. He just wanted you, and goddamnit, if he wasn’t going to have you. 

“I understand you, doc. Loud and clear.”

***

It was your day off, and you had plans on spending it in your bed, catching up on some reading and maybe finishing that one show you started a while ago. But, lunch time came around, and you were craving something specific and didn’t have all the ingredients that you needed. You figured you could go out to the grocery store to grab them, get some fresh air on the way there, and maybe stop at that book shop you had been eyeing for a while. 

You get ready quickly, closing your front door behind you, pausing for a second to stare at the door across the hall. You still can’t believe Ms. Hayashi had so suddenly moved out, especially after living in this complex since it was first built. She hadn’t even said goodbye, and you never got the chance to return the Tupperware she lended you. 

It wouldn’t have been as weird if someone hadn’t supposedly moved in the next day. You were a gossip with your landlord, a nice older lady, and she gave you all up the updates on the people who lived in the complex. She had said that he was a nice guy, kind of scary and intimating in stature, but respectful the whole time. Said that he didn’t even look at the apartment before giving her the first six months rent and despot in cash. She told you to ever call her if you smelled meth cooking from that apartment, as no one who works a regular job just has that kind of money laying around. 

You shrug to yourself, coming to the conclusion that maybe the new owner just needed to get out of town, away from somewhere or someone else. Everyone has their reasonings, and you can’t analyze every single move someone you haven’t even met before has ever made. 

You continue down the steps until you’re out of the building, unaware of the crimson eyes that follow your every movement. The walk to the store is a little longer than you’d like for it to be, but you figure that the exercise can do you some justice, and it’s always nice being out in nature. You stop and pick a flower that grows from a crack in the sidewalk, twirling it in your finger the whole way to the store, finally tucking it behind your ear when you have to grab a grocery cart. 

And still—and still—you don’t see the eyes that watch you. The figure that follows your every move, that disappears behind walls and aisles every time you turn your back. You feel it though, he can tell, because you move a little quicker and look over your shoulder more than usual. 

You go to the self checkout, trying to hurry now, as an uneasy feeling starts to wash over you. You get these often, especially working in the field that you do with the patients that you choose to take on—hardened criminals, fresh out of jail and still ready to harm society, people that just like to see the world burn for the fun of it. 

The therapist is typically one of the first few people to be taken out, after parents. You’re always too high on the list for your liking, despite loving your job. 

You keep trying to scan an item, but it’s not working, and that only makes your panic settle in deeper into your bones. You try to remember the techniques that you give people when they start to feel overwhelmed by their emotions and what goes on in their heads, but its hard when that sinking feeling only grows deeper and heavier by the moment until—

“Need some help with that?” You jump away quickly, eyes wide as you hold up the can of soup you were gripping tightly like a weapon. You let out a breath though, only in slight relief, to see that its one of your patients standing beside you—Bakugou Katsuki. He looks different than he usually does in your sessions together; he’s wearing a tight compression shirt that hugs his wide shoulders, navy blue in color, sweatpants that wrap around the thick muscles in his thighs, and plain running shoes. 

For some reason though, the panic in your stomach doesn’t fully quell at the sight of him. 

“No, I got it. Thanks though, Bakugou.” You tell him politely, smiling shakily. Why does the sight of him unnerve you so bad? You’ve run into patients before on the street, and they never make you feel like this, this uneasy, even when it was dark and you were dressed more scantily than you are now, with your baggy pants and too big shirt. 

“You sure?” He grunts, cocking his head at you as he gently pries the can from your still tight grip. “I watched you struggle with it for like, two minutes. Let me.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off of you as he scans your item easily enough. He only looks away when he bags it for you, and starts to scan the rest of your things as if you weren’t standing there. 

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can finish that myself.” You wave him off him with a shaky smile, finally breaking out of your stupor when he’s damn near finished. You reach out to stop him, but Bakugou only waves you away with a grunt. 

“’S alright. It’s the least I can do for you helping me figure my crazy out.” Bakugou shrugs at you, a joke you’re presuming, as he glances over at you with a tiny lilt at the corner of his mouth. It calms you, only for a second, before something ever so slightly changes in his eyes, in the way he looks at you and takes you in, makes you feel like something sinister is sinking deep into your bones. Your stomach tightens again, and you have to force a smile when he finishes, before it drops when you see him reaching for his wallet. 

“Oh, I really can’t let you pay for my groceries.” You tell him, stepping up to him before pausing when he looks at you out of the corner of his eye with an expression so terrifying, that it makes stone drop into the pit of your belly. 

“Let me.” Bakugou tells you more than asks you, and you nod slowly, swallowing the thickness that has settled into the back of your throat. You can only watch as he pulls out a wad of cash, counting through it before inserting it into the machine, mouth set in a thin line all the while. You try to take him in, figure out where his own groceries are to be in this section, where all this money is coming from, if his address that he put on the file is even anywhere near this area. 

It’s not. 

“Cmon.” Bakugou snaps you out of your trance, big veiny hands holding all of your groceries as he nods his head to the exit. You’re stuck there, wondering if this is really happening, if these are just boundaries being crossed or a crime about to be committed. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you try to blink them away, hiccuping slightly as you slowly shake your head. 

“Please give me my groceries, Bakugou.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, soft and shaky and purely terrified. Bakugou fixes you with another deadly expression but this time—this time he smiles at you, and its everything but friendly. All big white teeth and too sharp incisors, all falsely charming and all weaponry, all threat with no escape from his drooling maw. 

“I think we should go home, now. Don’t you?” He asks you with a cock of his head, body still turned to the exit, his stature eery with how the veins in his neck throb with every second you stay rooted in your spot. “Before something happens to these nice people in here, right? Before they have to bear witness to a massacre, all because you don’t want to walk home with me.”

You have to bite back your sob that bubbles up in your throat. You’re terrified of what will happen to you, but you’re a caretaker first. You have to put yourself before these people, put yourself before the monster that wants you as a sacrifice before he burns an entire village down for you. 

So you nod, and take the hand offered to you as he switches the groceries to one hand, just to squeeze yours in the other. 

You leave out of the grocery store with tears muddled in your eyes, a quivering chin that you try to conceal, hope no one wants to be a hero and find themselves hurt, or worse, because you can’t school your expressions. 

This was taught in a psychology course you took in college, you remember. One of your classes after you started working on your highest degree—what to do in real life situations as a psychologist. How to avoid more conflict when a patient is erratic. How to deescalate. How to survive. 

Everything you’ve ever learned has gone out the window now. 

You and Bakugou walk down the street hand in hand, looking like a normal couple for the most part, besides your trembling jaw and shaky steps. You glance up to him, watching him squint in the sunlight before he glances down at you, squeezing your hand gently, as if to comfort you, as if he weren’t the cause of your panic. You notice that he’s walking right in the direction of your apartment, as if the route were memorized. 

“How do you know where I live?” You ask shakily, mouth full of cotton as Bakugou keeps his head forward, grinning. He glances at you again, eyes bouncing between the delicate flower tucked behind your ear, and the terrified expression your eyes carry. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, doesn’t offer up anymore information until you stand outside of your building. “You know, for you to be a therapist to fuckin’ weirdos, you don’t watch your back good enough for my liking.” 

You didn’t think your stomach could sink any lower, but it does. It does when the realization settles, when his words kick in—that he’s been watching you, but for how long? How could you not have noticed? Did he even contact you because he needed help, or was this only a way to grow closer to you, to his obsession?

Before you know it, Bakugou has walked you up the stairs until you reached your floor. Your body turns to instinctively to your door, but you’re pulled in the other direction. 

“Wha—” you go to ask Bakugou, before you notice he’s set your groceries down to fiddle with the key to…to the apartment across the hall from you. You feel the tears flood again, letting them flow this time since no one is around to try and save you and put themselves in harms way anymore. 

“It’s been you? This whole time?” You ask slowly, starting to pull away when Bakugou opens the door to Ms. Hayashi’s apartment, still decorated the same before she mysteriously disappeared—you don’t think its so mysterious anymore.

“Of course it’s been me.” Bakugou scoffs as he grips your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you near the doorway. “I had to watch  over you—do you know how careless you are with everything? With your life?” He snarls, whirling around on you when you plant your feet and try to keep him from pulling you into his lions den. Bakugou is all snarls and teeth, invokes such a deep fear within you that you can’t help but shrink under his gaze. 

“Now come on. I’ve been waiting for this for entirely too long.” His voice is downright salacious, eyes turning sharp and hungry, and in a way that makes you feel like nothing more than hunted prey. 

Bakugou damn near drags you within the apartment, despite your whimpering and pulling at him—he’s just too strong. He walks you a few feet inside before he dumps the groceries on a coffee table, finally letting go of your hand so that he can lock the door, emerging a key from his sweatpants pocket to one of the many, many locks, an insurance policy of you never leaving him unless he allows it. 

You try to put on your therapist boots for a minute, swallowing your fear as you try to reason with him, swallowing thickly when he turns around and takes your trembling form in. 

“Bakugou,” you start shakily, “this doesn’t have to end bad for us. You can just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t report you, or anything. Please, please, PLEASE!” 

He comes rushing at you before you know it, on you in seconds, despite trying to turn and outrun him before he pounces. But it’s too late and he’s too big and too overwhelming, and he grabs you up in his arms, shushing your screaming with his mouth pressed against yours. 

So this is what he wants, you think to yourself, terrified to say you’re slightly relieved. You’ve worked with men who liked to torture women for fun, and you were scared that he was secretly one of them, but it looks like he just wants—

“You.” Bakugou whispers with a swallow against your mouth, hot and breathy. “I want you so fuckin’ bad, wanted this for so long, fuck.” He’s wrapping you up within him in seconds, arms crushing your ribs, tongue sneaking into your mouth, hands grabbing handfuls of whatever he can reach. 

You’re stunned, mostly. Finally putting the pieces together of everything that is Bakugou, his coming to you about his obsessions, his secrecy despite needing your help, the way he always looked at you, how he devours you now like a mere schoolboy. It all makes sense now. You pull away from him, eyes round and wide as you take in his lowered ones, how he dives back in to nip at your jaw and chin and cheek. 

“I’m your obsession.” You whisper shakily, hands on his shoulders, despite them making no moves to move the large man back. Bakugou groans at that, damn near sinks to his knees at your realization, wraps you up even tighter as he buries his face into the skin of your neck. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you would’ve caught on sooner by now, dumbass.” He scolds you, licking up the expanse of your skin as you shiver and try to back away. But Bakugou only holds you tighter, and you whimper at the bulge that nudges your hip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve—could’ve worked on exposure therapy, had someone there to monitor you for our safety, could’ve—”

“Too much work. I just want you.” Bakugou moans, nipping at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass when you squeak. He walks you backwards until your back meets a wall, the breath being knocked out of you as you gasp, eyes wide when he finally pulls away from your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this, all fucked out and relaxed and even a little excited. Always saw him with a bored or irritated expression, one of indifference. But now, Bakugou looks high on euphoria, with kiss swollen lips and low eyelids as he takes in your still shocked expression. 

“Let me taste you,” Bakugou rushes out in a quick breath, diving in once more to lick at your mouth before he pulls away, big hands squeezing at your waist and ass excitedly. He’s like a dog with a bone, like a pup with no master, waiting for you to give the command, the permission to go. 

You wonder if you have more control of this situation than you originally thought. So you try your hand, see how far you can push before you can wiggle your way out of this entire thing and get the chance to call the police. 

“Bakugou,” you start, quickly being cut off by him with a sharp nip to your chin. 

“Katsuki,” he corrects. You nod. 

“Katsuki, if I—if I let you do this, this one thing of…of tasting me, will you promise to let me go?” You try to reason with him, cupping his cheek when his eyes wander over your form instead of your face, leaning into your touch instinctively. 

“We can,” you pause with a swallow. “I can do this. I can create a therapy plan for you, for your obsession over me, and it can be fully consenting and healthy, but you have to let me help you and let me take control.” You try to reason with Bakugou, hope he understands what you’re saying, that he won’t catch on to this just being a trick. But he only groans and turns his head, sucking your thumb into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at your gasp before he releases you with a pop. He turns half lidded vermillion eyes to you, frowning as he rests his heavy head in your palm. 

“Whatever you fuckin’ say, just let me taste you, goddamnit.” He mutters petulantly. You can only hold your breath, wonder if what you’re agreeing will hurt you in the long run before you nod. 

“You can—you can taste me, Katsuki.” 

You think you might’ve sealed the deal with a devil, with the way you can practically see horns protruding from his forehead and a tail flickering behind him when he drops to his knees. Bakugou is too quick for your liking, yanks your pants around your ankles too fast, hurries you out of them, rips your underwear away from your skin until it tears and falls limply in a pile on the floor. 

You squeak when his face is suddenly pressed right against your cunt, his nose buried into your pubic hair, the sound of a big sniff echoing throughout the room. You can’t help but cringe, but don’t dare push him away—people need to be exposed to all aspects of things in order to overcome them, even if those things are sniffing what lies between your legs. 

“Fuck, smells so good.” Bakugou grunts under his breath, huffing a few times before he forces your legs further apart until you can accommodate the wide expanse of his shoulders. You grunt from the stretch, trying to make yourself comfortable, but Bakugou picks up on it quickly, and grabs your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder to rest on. 

It creates a better angle for him anyway, with your lips glistening with your arousal—you were aroused. Turned on by him just as much as he was with you. You were wet, even if it’s not as much as he would prefer, as he would get you to that amount in only a matter of time. 

You throbbed when his tongue traced the hood of your clit, of your lips, your folds. You twitch hard against his mouth when he keeps licking and licking at you, until your slickness and his spit mingle and he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. Until it makes a mess of his mouth and chin and the floor below him, and you, with your pretty moans and grabbing hands. 

Bakugou has waited for this moment longer than he can really care to remember, at this point in time. Waited to worship you on his knees, be able to look up from between your soft thighs and see the scrunch of your brows when he sucks your clit between his lips and runs over it with the flatness of his tongue. 

It’s an addictive feeling, really. Makes him feel higher than any drug could ever take him, makes his eyes roll back and his cock throb so hard that he has to grab it from beneath his sweats to keep from busting his load already. 

You can only stand there and take it—take the incessant licking around your hole, and the dipping of his tongue inside of you, and the sweet little kisses he plants on your clit. You try to reason with yourself, convince yourself that this is an improvised session with a client that needed your help so badly that you decided to take him on your day off. Try to tell yourself that this is all apart of the therapy that he needs in order to get over you. 

You only hope that the taste of you doesn’t become so addictive, that your plans for him will go flying out the window the moment you try to reason with him. 

But its hard to reason even with yourself when Bakugou is sliding a thick, middled finger inside of your dripping hole as he noisily sucks your clit between his lips. You cry out at that, knees wobbling, but he’s there to catch you with his free hand, his shoulder. Holds you up steady like a pillar as he lashes his tongue against you, twists his finger, curves it slowly, before he’s adding another one before you can even register what’s happening to you. 

“Shit, Katsuki,” you moan out, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel so good, for getting so wrapped up in this ‘therapy’. You can only hope that the board doesn’t take your license if they were to ever find out about it. 

“Thats it, baby, ride my fingers just like that.” Bakugou breaks you out of your trance with his groan. You hadn’t even realize how your hips were moving against him, grinding down on his digits that curl up inside of you, that slide against that swelling spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes cross.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” Bakugou whispers against your mound, trailing spit from his mouth down to your clit once more, eyes never leaving the pleasured look on your face. 

Did you know he imagined this, in damn near every session he’s ever had with you? While it wasn’t plenty of sessions (he had only started seeing you about six months ago), it was all he could think of. Every Tuesday at 2:45pm, in office number 218, first door on the right, the mint green office—all he could think of was you. Even when you asked him questions with a professional and friendly smile, even when you were covered head to toe, even when you ripped him a new one for his shitty answers and responses. 

This was all he wanted, all he craved to see. The way your mouth dropped open when he starts damn near directing you in how he wants you to ride his fingers. How your hips move and swivel and tremble when he keeps bringing his fingers close to his face, inside of you. How you grip so tightly at his hair and pull when he won’t stop sucking and licking and messily kissing your clit. How he damn near makes out with your hole, tongue drooling and smacking against your soaked skin until he feels himself about to burst in his pants. 

This was all he wanted, and Bakugou always gets what he wants. Even if its you—especially if it’s you. 

“I’m—oh, I think I’m—shit!” Your brain is damn near fried when you start to orgasm, an earth shattering moan slipping from your throat as you throw your head back, hips bucking against Bakugou’s face and hands. He has to hold your entire body up steadily, fears that you may fall from how hard you’re coming, how you shake in his arms. 

His fingers are steady inside of you, and only slows when you start to finally come down from your high. Bakugou kisses the inside of your thigh sweetly, nibbles at it when you groan and complain about feeling too weak from the intensity. But that’s not a problem for him at all. 

“Hey—what are you—” Bakugou cuts you off with a wet kiss pressed to your mouth when he stands to his full height. His tongue slides against yours and you can’t help but moan when you taste yourself on him. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away and try to slink back to your own apartment, instead hoisting you up quickly in his arms as he starts to walk to a room behind you. 

Before you can protest, you’ve been dumped on the kitchen table, Bakugou pressing you down with a hand to your sternum when you try to sit up, shooting you another one of those eery looks from earlier. You still instantly, before slowly lowering yourself back down on the table, eyes wide again when he levels you with a stare for a beat longer before he steps back to yank his shirt over his head. 

“I thought,” you mumble, trying not to stare at how well built Bakugou is, how his biceps might literally be bigger than your entire head. “I thought that we agreed for you to only, um, taste me, and then you’d stop.” Its hard finding your voice when Bakugou stares at you like that again, not scarily, but hungry like before. Hard to fight back and push him away when he grabs your shirt in two hands and rips and pulls until your torso is exposed, like the fabric meant nothing to him. 

You clench your thighs at the display of strength and hope that he doesn’t notice. (He does). 

Bakugou shrugs at you, pulls your bra down until your tits are on display, grabbing a handful of each and massaging them in warm, sweaty palms. He ducks his head down and gives a sweet kiss to both of your nipples, licking one crudely before he stands back up to his full height, your breasts still in his hands. You think he must’ve forgotten what you said, or simply didn’t care to answer, but he surprises you when he squeezes your tits tightly and speaks, 

“Think I need a little more exposure before I have to be reduced to doses only, doc.” Is all Bakugou gives you, squeezing your chest one last time before he pulls away. You try not to show the panic on your face when he reaches to pull his sweats down until they bunch around his corded thighs, cock damn near bursting from its confinements. 

Bakugou reaches inside of his boxers, biting at his bottom lip when he touches it directly for the first time since he’s gotten you, groans a little at your gasp when he fully exposes himself. He’s thick, curved a little to the side, his head a dark flushed color, a fat vein forking up the side of his shaft. He rests his cock over you, makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat when the precum slides from his tip and pools in the dip of your bellybutton. 

“Shit, I love you so fuckin’ much,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he positions himself at your entrance. Your eyes bulge at his confession, but before you can even touch on what he’s said, he’s already sliding his way inside of you. 

Your head falls against the kitchen table, the dull pain quiet compared to the overwhelming pleasure that settles low in your pelvis. You groan, thighs hooked around Bakugou’s waist as he fucks his way inside of you, a moan on his tongue as he watches the way your lips split and suck him inside so, so sweetly. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t wait anymore,” Bakugou mutters against your mouth. As he soon as he settles inside of you, he’s pulling out until his tip kisses your entrance, before he fucks his way back in. You shudder, his cock warm and heavy inside of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every stroke until you start to cling to him and ask for more, more, more. 

And Bakugou gives it to you, with feral growls, hiking your legs up higher until they rest on his shoulders, hunching over you with every wet slap of his balls against your ass. The position forces him even deeper, makes your feet dangle entirely too close to your face, Bakugou leaning over to kiss you sweetly on the ankle. 

“So, fuck, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Bakugou taunts you, grinning down at you when you blink bleary eyes up at him. He’s sweaty and golden and has a halo of light behind his ash blond hair from the overhead light. He’s prettier than you want to admit, but its hard trying to keep a face of professionalism when his cock keeps kissing your sweet spot and his chest pressed against yours makes your nipples harder than rocks. 

“Huh? What happened to that fucking smart ass that would lecture me in our sessions?” He teases, smile wide and feral as he holds your cheeks tightly between his thick fingers. He forces your mouth into a pout, kissing it, when you blabber nonsense up at him. 

“Fucked you dumb already? All those years of college right out the door, huh, baby?” Bakugou’s so mean, makes you whine and claw at his shoulders and nape. You could answer him, give him your professional opinion—not like you even had one in the first place—but he makes it so hard to think. When his cock is balls deep inside of you, when he looks at you with his teasing and yet adoring little grin, when he keeps shaking your face at him with a taunting coo, when he sneaks a hand between your bodies to circle your clit. 

“It’s okay; I can think for you. You don’t have to use that pretty little head even once when you’re with me.” Bakugou’s coos sweetly, reaches down and pecks your forehead and mouth when you whimper pathetically up at him with teary eyes. 

“Gonna cum? Yeah?” He asks you, hips never faltering as he fucks you into the table, his mouth pressed against yours as you grab him tightly, feeling the oncoming orgasm starting to flood your system. 

“Yeah,” you whine softly against his mouth through your puckered lips, making Bakugou groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. You tighten up around him so deliciously, sound so pretty with your fucked out moans and hoarse voice, look so gorgeous all high out of your mind and pliant on his kitchen counter. 

How could he ever remember to pull out?

You try to protest when Bakugou holds you tight and starts to cum inside of you, but your complaints fall on deaf ears. He only holds you tighter against him, groaning loud in the skin of your neck as his cock spurts his hot seed deep inside of you. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, breathy and sweaty, and you’re in no better position. Its quiet for a while, despite your legs and back aching, and the cooling feeling of his cum starting to spill from around his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“So,” Bakugou starts, and you’re almost fearful of what he might say next. “Can you start scheduling my appointments to your apartment instead of your office now?” 

You’re at least a little thankful that he has plans to let you go back to your life, even if he’s forcing himself to be apart of every little aspect of it. You nod tiredly, wondering how and if you’re going to tell your boss. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

PAIRING: BAKUGOU KATSUKI X F! READER

WARNINGS: food play (ice cream) | nipple play | temperature play | oral sex

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

A/N: wrote this for myself as a warm up and ended up not writing what i was warming up for so i decided that you could read it too instead :) plus canva was being cooperative with banner making for once so i got excited, pls enjoy and hope this helps you cool off a bit from this horrid heat! ♡

It was a hot summer day as the sultry sun of Musutafu kissed your skin with its warmth. Laying on the chaise lounge chairs by the pool of your home while the upbeat yet chill melody from your favorite summer playlist vibrates through the speakers as you relax deeper into the cushions. The recent rise in temperatures had you feeling suffocated to the point of almost tears so you thought that a serene day by the pool with your husband could be refreshing for the both of you. Currently waiting for his return from the kitchen, where he went to get you both something to help you cool down further. Returning shortly with two vanilla ice cream popsicles you’d purchase earlier as he hands you one before sitting by your legs on the edge of the lounge.

Making quick work of it when he does as the popsicle was already melting under the weight of the sun, your fingers beginning to feel sticky as ice cream started to dribble down the wooden stick and onto your skin while your tongue lapped at the top, all while Katsuki watched - his own fingers getting coated in stickiness, as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever could, but something about you in the summertime always sparked a new wave of emotions when he's around you.

The warmth that radiated from your body along with the aroma of your sweat when he hugs you after a hot day, the little to none clothing exposing your skin allowing him to devour you with his eyes while doing mundane activities, finding you sprawled and passed out naked on the couch on random afternoons when he arrives home after a short shift, unable to resist you as he finds himself more and more infatuated with you with every passing day. 

Just as he is right now, completely hypnotized by you as his eyes roam every part of you, the thin layer of sweat along with the added shine of the sunscreen making your skin glow against the sunrays, the newly developed tanned bringing a different sparkle to your eyes every time you meet his, the way your bikini hugged every curve so perfectly, how the unruly hair accentuates your features in newfound ways. You probably found it all a nuisance, but in his eyes, he thought you looked ethereal.

And the more he observed, the more his swim shorts began to feel tighter against his frame, an occurrence that had become more common with the hot weather as he was sure his cock had a mind of its own every time he was near you. And when his eyes fixated on the way your tongue swirled around the tip of the popsicle, he found his throat going dry at the scene regardless of the ice cream quenching his thirst, but Katsuki was thirsty for something else. 

Smirk already plastered on his face when your eyes meet his again, a confused look adorning your features when you address him. 

“What's with that look?”, you ask before taking another swipe of your tongue to the ice cream. 

“Nothin', just looking at you”, taking a taste of his ice cream as well, catching the creamy liquid melting on the side with his tongue before it could fall on his hands.

You, on the other hand, were not as quick as you found yourself distracted with your lover, and now droplets of ice cream were falling against your chest. The icy touch of the sugary liquid gives you some relief against the scorching heat, yet still reaching for your towel to clean off. But a large hand wraps in yours before you could even reach it. 

“Allow me”, the gruff voice of your husband fills your ears over the music in the background as his hot breath hits your skin when he leans forward to lick at the spilled ice cream.

“Wouldn't want it to go to waste now, would we?”, he adds with a cheeky grin on his face, one that grows wider when you match it, already knowing where his antics are going.

Allowing another drop of ice cream to fall on your chest as he watches it trail down your skin, tilting his own popsicle over you for more to spill and travel along the valley of your breasts. Licking the sweet liquid up just before it could disappear behind the middle strap of your top as his fingers began to dawdle against it, slowly caressing the fabric while he admired the way it hugged the roundness of your tits. Giving one of them a small shake in his grip before running his fingers down your side to reach your back as you lift yourself a few inches from the cushions to allow him access, his digits tangling with the straps securing your top before slowly pulling them loose. Causing the fabric to teasingly slip from your skin and reveal your pretty tits to him. 

His mouth watering at the sight as his cock now strains fully erect in his shorts, feeling it jump when you settle back against the cushions once more, tilting your head with a new lust-filled glint in your eyes as you bring the melting popsicle down to your nipple, circling it as it begins to pebble under the cold sensation. An amused cough resonating from your husband’s throat as he stares in awe at the small show you're putting for him.

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me one day, woman”, he laughs before diving into the inviting treat. Lips wrapping around you as his tongue makes quick work at licking the sugary liquid against your skin, causing a moan to rumble in your throat from the delicious contrast in temperatures. The ice cold touch of the ice cream mixed with the sultry hotness of his mouth has your stomach flooding with an array of emotions as arousal begins to pool at your core. 

Tilting the popsicle in his hands over your skin again, as the neglected dessert pours down onto you and travels past your chest and along your abdomen with Katsuki’s hungry tongue following shortly until the liquid pools at your belly button, filling it up before his tongue delves inside.

Vermillion irises finding a newfound captivation when they fixate on the wet patch of your bikini as he lowers himself to press his nose against the fabric and take a long inhale of your soaked pussy through it. Eyes rolling to the back of his head behind closed lids while his hand reaches for the knotted straps that lay pretty against your hips whilst you reach for the other one with your free hand, feeling desperate to feel his tongue devouring your skin once more.

And when your cunt is finally revealed to him, he feels he might do just that, devour you whole. With the way your pretty pussy glistens under the sun and those lustful eyes you're shooting at him, the carnal need to have you coming undone on his tongue for the neighbors to hear rapidly builds inside him. 

But not before teasing you a bit as he settles between your legs, broad hand pressing against the back of your thigh to encourage them to spread further for him, admiring the pretty view before slowly pressing the melting popsicle against your clit. The sudden rush of cold makes you moan as he circles the growing nub with it, covering it with cream before leisurely dragging it down through your folds as droplets begin to run down your skin and pool at your rear for the cushions to absorb. 

Lifting the popsicle from your skin but letting it hover above your cunt for it to continue melting onto you as he takes a moment to admire your pussy covered in smooth white before diving in to lap at the sticky mess. His hot breath working to bring you closer to the edge as the knot in your stomach builds when he speaks against you.

“Hold still, beautiful… gotta clean you up”, he growls into your pussy as he hungrily licks and sucks at the creamy sweetness from both the ice cream and the flow of juices that rushes out of your cunt when the knot inside of you finally bursts and you gush right into his awaiting tongue as he eagerly swallows your release. 

The melody of your moans filling the space leaves a satisfied smirk on his face while he licks the remaining ice cream from your skin as he is sure that the neighbors probably heard how good he makes you feel.

The soft pads of your fingers against his blonde locks urging him forward is the only thing that stops his hypnotized licking as he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit, a habit of his as a way of saying goodbye for now to his favorite meal, before crawling over your body to capture your lips in his. Tasting your release mixed with the ice cream on his tongue as you continue kissing while slowly lifting up from the lounge to flip your bodies so that Katsuki could now lay against it while you straddled him. 

The ice cream in your hands now dripping over his chest as you feel his breath hitch against your lips with each drop, causing you to smirk into him before releasing a giggle when you feel cool and sticky fingers travel up your thigh towards your rear following a light spank to it. Breaking the kiss to trail kisses down his chin and along his neck, the subtle scratch of his incoming stubble tickling your lips as you continue to travel down his chest where the ice cream is as your eyes look for his to find them already on you before your tongue darts out to lick away at the sweet liquid.

A groan threatening to escape from deep in his chest when your hot tongue laps at the cold fluids mixing with his sweat as warmth returns to his skin from how aroused your wet touch is making him, his cock feels like it might burn through the fabric of his swim shorts the more it twitches against it, fighting for some release. 

And when your hand travels down the contour of his muscular chest, your nails gently scraping against his skin as they travel down the curves of his abs onto the waistband of his shorts to press against his clothed cock, he can't contain the moan that vibrates from his throat - his resolve always so easily weakened when it came to you and being under your curious touch - as his thighs begin to clench when you apply more pressure to the palm of your hand whilst rubbing his throbbing cock through his shorts, the heat radiating from it making you smile against him, finding it amusing how turned on he could get when you took the lead like this.   

“Fuck, baby - you're heating up”, you whisper against the juncture of his neck as you press your lips onto his warm skin, trailing kisses up towards his ears, the tips of them red under the weight of the sun.

“Let me cool you down, yeah?”, sucking his earlobe into your mouth, the skin feeling hotter than his body against your lips as you swipe your tongue on the delicate skin before leaning down to settle between his legs, not wanting your teasing to outlive the fleeting lifespan of the melting ice cream in your hand.

Your fingers hooking around the waist band of the swim shorts as you begin to pull it down from one side while he aids you on the other, his popsicle long gone under the heat of the moment. When his cock is finally released, the thick vein of the underside of his shaft is already throbbing with need, leading up to an alluring red tip adorned with a steady flow of precum that travels down his cock to pool around the base - so wet and needy you can't help the rush of drool that threatens to spill past your lips at the delicious sight.

Sneaking a small lick to his tip to get a quick taste of it before the vanilla overpowers it. Sucking the remaining ice cream into your mouth before discarding the wooden stick on the cushion next to you so your hands could grip at his warm thighs as you tilt your head back for the creamy glob of white to lay on your tongue as you press against the top of his pulsing balls and slowly drag it up his shaft. A hiss escaping him when the cold mixture hits his sensitive skin before a wanton moan erupts from him when you wrap your mouth around his hot tip. 

The difference in temperature driving him insane as he feels he might cum at any moment, Bakugou never thought the feeling of your mouth could get any better, but low and behold he was mistaken.

Making quick work of his cock before the ice cream completely melted in your mouth, you press your tongue against the throbbing vein of his cock as you take him deep in your throat, the ice cream working in your favor to take his full length while your sticky hands massage his heavy balls, something that always worked wonders when bringing your lover closer to the edge. 

And with the way you were devouring his cock, the flood of arousal in his gut bursted as soon as it built, the wet noises of your mouth slurping on the sweet cool liquid dripping past your lips and down his balls in your warm grasp while his tip rubs against your hot throat is the last push he needs as his fingers tangle with the damp hairs at your nape to press you against him as he buries his cock deep inside of you. A river of creamy white filling your mouth between the ice cream and his cum as rope after rope of hot release stains your throat. Swallowing every drop the best that you could while savoring the tasty mixture of sweet and salty against your tongue. His hips thrusting with every drop that's spilled into you before they slowly settle back down onto the cushions.

Blunt nails gently draw circles on the back of your head as he slowly pulls you off of his cock, a creamy string of saliva connecting you as you slurp it while following it towards his tip where you press your lips in a sloppy kiss, your own way of saying a temporary farewell to your favorite treat before his hand urges you forward to lay on his chest. Bodies sweaty and sticky as the faint smell of vanilla and sunscreen fills the air, while Katsuki cradles your face in his palms.

His thumb brushing away a stray tear of your temple as he takes a moment to admire the hazy look you get after sucking his cock, your pupils almost in the shape of hearts and Katsuki swears it might just be one of his favorite views before pulling you close to press his lips against yours to taste himself on your savory tongue. Deciding to remain wrapped against each other a while longer under the warmth of the sun before heading inside to wash away the muggy feeling before dinner.

we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe // k.bakugou

Rating: MA

Pairing(s): Tamaki Amajiki x fem!reader, Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, heavy angst, emotional cheating, major character death, smut, body horror/graphic injuries, trauma, ptsd, sinkhole accident, medical trauma, hospital scenes 

expected wc: 20k+

Summary: Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams? 

a/n: this is my part for the big bang collab (@mybigbangacademia )! woooooooo!!!! artwork to come by the lovely @/wasabi-gumdrop. uhhhhh what else..... this first part is 5k, and overall i'm gonna have over 20k words lmao, so good luck me and everyone else. also, my ao3 is linked too! have fun with that.

and as always,

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him. 

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control. 

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is. 

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes. 

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue. 

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin. 

You okay? 

The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,you tell the truth. 

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed. 

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny. 

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work.  ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you. 

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer. 

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise. 

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes. 

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking angeny for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé. 

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day. 

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge? 

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today. 

Did you even use your quirk today? 

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch. 

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away. 

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency. 

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning). 

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume. 

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away.  You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever. 

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race.  “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly. 

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .  

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building. 

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now. 

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along. 

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi , you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again. 

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel. 

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind. 

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that… 

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again. 

It meant nothing. Just a random dream. 

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him. 

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms. 

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet. 

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off. 

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings. 

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more. 

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it. 

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur. 

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same. 

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you. 

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them.  You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did. 

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful. 

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him. 

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first. 

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. 

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate. 

None of it matters. You’re happy. 

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. 

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again. 

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. 

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you. 

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call. 

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days. 

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist. 

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break. 

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable. 

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you. 

You both never fought, you were both so compliant. 

But he loves you. 

“I love you,” you say. 

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning. 

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center. 

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,” 

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up? 

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be. 

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma. 

Almost. 

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him.  You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole. 

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life.  Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead. 

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself. 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride. 

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller. 

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red. 

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?” 

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free. 

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him. 

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction. 

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core. 

Yes. “No.” 

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.” 

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner. 

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look. 

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed. 

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter. 

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?” 

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious. 

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea. 

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea. 

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still. 

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too. 

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring. 

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep. 

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast.  You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you. 

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.” 

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love. 

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time.  The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore. 

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what? 

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench. 

You were fine. You were happy. 

Until you made yourself small. 

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small. 

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow. 

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else. 

You don’t know where you fall anymore. 

-(-)-

fruit first (ask questions later) | k. bakugou

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Gender Neutral Reader

length: 3.6k

summary: When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

A short, mostly fluffy nothing for the prompt Bakugou + oranges. Part of the Willow’s House server Meet Fruit collab, where I took “meet fruit” extremely literally. Thank you @willowser for letting me in even though my dumb ass signed up late!!

tags/warnings: sfw, fluff, sexual tension, gender neutral reader

You were in the produce section when it happened.

The season was creeping into summertime now, the weather outside hot and humid and perfect for fresh produce–stalks of crunchy asparagus, fat ruby-red tomatoes, and tiny little berries nestled in their containers like a fistful of jewels.

You had admittedly been getting a little over-indulgent, your basket already straining against the skin of your forearm, heavy with more fruits and vegetables than a single person might feasibly consume before they went bad. But you were heady with visions of summer salads and fancy grain bowls, cool and leafy and refreshing, a balm against the sweltering city heat.

You’d just been adding a couple oranges to your basket when the first sign came.

It started as a rumble from far off, like the sound of slow-rolling thunder.

It echoed through the store, the bass buzzing through the shelves, making them hum. The lights flickered for a moment, their fluorescence dimming. A few of the people around you glanced up curiously, but nothing else in the interior of the store changed—no screaming, no crying, no running.

At first there was nothing to indicate that you might need to abandon your groceries in a pique of terror.

That was, until another boom sounded just overhead. And then the ceiling was suddenly ripped open with violent force.

A hunk of the steel frame was pulled back like the tab on a sardine can, the caging screaming in protest, and a shower of plaster rained down around you, breaking apart in slabs. An enormous, hulking figure peered through the hole, then dropped into the aisles before you, shaking the floor with his heavy landing.

Behind him, several other figures skittered into the building, one woman climbing down the wall like a lizard as a few others dropped in through the hole. A man suddenly popped into existence a few feet away from the orange stand with a crack like a gunshot. You startled, stumbling backwards, knocking into the oranges and sending a wave of them plopping to the floor.

There was no mistaking who these people were.

Villains. An entire crew of them.

All at once, the shoppers around you scrambled for cover, letting out a cacophony of shrieks and screams. You backed away, only for your foot to catch on an orange, rolling your ankle.

A bright stab of pain lanced through the joint, and you went down, hard, banging your elbow on a nearby display. You caught the floor with your rib cage, crushing an orange under your hip, your basket screeching across the floor next to you.

It knocked the breath right out of you, and you gasped, just as a blade of energy went singing overhead, slicing through the shelves and sending explosions of fruits and metal into the air. They rained down around you, a chunk of shelf framing tipping over and slamming down on your leg, fruits and vegetables slapping across every inch of your body.

Screams went up from the far side of the store, and you bit back a yelp of pain, tears forming in your eyes.

“Grab as many civvies as you can!” a deep voice barked out. “Hold ‘em like a shield and get moving to the next location!”

Your whole body iced over in fear, your ankle and leg screaming in protest as your limbs locked up. Footsteps echoed in every direction as the group of villains split up, hunting down their civilian targets. You hoped wildly, desperately that no one had seen you go down behind the citrus display.

Your hopes were in vain, however. Bootsteps rounded the corner, and the man who had appeared from thin air bent over the shelving pinning you down.

He was tall and wiry, with a face like a weasel and a thinning crop of dark hair. A malicious grin split the sides of his face as he took you in, yellow eyes flickering over you. “Hello sweet thing,” he cooed.

Your stomach flipped in despair as he prowled closer, oranges rolling away from his boots. Your hands scrambled at your sides, fingernails digging into the floor, as you tried to drag yourself backwards, away from him.

He cackled, high, reedy and excited, stalking down the aisle between two fruit stands. Two steps brought him right to you, and he leaned in, smiling widely. He reached out his long, straggly fingers, grasping for you—

And then he promptly blinked out of existence as a furious explosion crackled into life right where he had been. The brightness seared your eyes, blinding you, and a scorching heat scalded your face as a deafening boom rattled your teeth.

You snapped your eyes shut reflexively, but the light and heat was gone as soon as it came. The pad of boots approached you over the ringing in your ears, and you blinked open your eyes. Behind the spots that dotted your vision was a familiar face—one you’d seen on TV dozens, if not hundreds of times.

Bakugou Katsuki, alias pro hero Dynamight.

The first, wild, reeling, nonsense thought you had was that he was so much more handsome in person.

Red eyes glowed like scarlet embers through the dark of his black domino mask, and a scowl sat angrily but prettily on his plush mouth. He had scratches raked across one high cheekbone and down the line of his strong jaw, and his hero uniform had endured something worse, torn in several places, baring the bulge of one enormous bicep, and the trim line of his waist at one side.

The sight dazed you almost more than the flash of his explosion had, and Bakugou turned his scowl down on you, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling across his forehead as he did.

“You break anything, extra?” He rasped. His voice was lower, too, gravelly in a way that apparently didn’t translate well over TV airwaves.

You gaped for a moment, then quickly corralled yourself as his scowl deepened. You tried shifting your leg under the shelving, a fresh wave of pain lancing through you. “Um, my ankle I think is no good—I’m not sure if it’s broken—”

You were interrupted by a sound like a gunshot, splitting the air right in front of you, and then the teleport villain appeared just in front of you. He lunged for Bakugou, and you caught the flash of a blade in the fluorescent lighting. A reflexive scream tore out of you, trying to warn Bakugou—

But Bakugou was faster. He whipped around, a terrifying smile splitting his mouth, an explosion already crackling in his palm.

The teleport villain flickered out of sight again, just in time for Bakugou’s explosion to rip apart the air where he had been, splintering several of the displays around you and blasting a shelf of crackers and jelly apart. You could hear the glass and cracker bits raining down like chunks of hail.

Bakugou quickly turned back to you, eyeing you evaluatively. “Stay down, extra, and don’t fuckin’ move. I’ll take care of this asshole.”

You nodded hurriedly, shifting under the shelving that had you pinned. You managed to wedge yourself into the rough wood of the citrus display at your side, as if you could disappear into it if only you pressed hard enough.

Bakugou turned his back to you, one arm out as if to block anyone’s line of sight to you. The lines of his broad shoulders were tense under the white-hot glare of the store lights, and you noticed another gash in his uniform along one shoulder blade, exposing a peek of his back muscles.

Bakugou was moving almost before you even heard the next teleportation crackle, spinning to aim an explosion to his right. He launched himself after it with a vengeance, only to blow right through another display as the villain winked out of existence again. It seemed like he was fast, possibly too fast…

And then that gunshot noise again–and the villain was right next to you. In one impossibly fast movement Bakugou rerouted himself with a searing blast that ripped the tile right off the floor. In less than a second he was screaming down on the villain with all the speed and fiery fury of a falling comet. He aimed another shot right where the villain was standing—

But the villain disappeared again.

Bakugou neatly dodged you with another explosion aimed at the ground, the hot wind of it throwing you back against the orange crate. He somersaulted over the display just as another crack sounded behind it, and you could hear another explosion tearing through yet more of the produce.

And then another growled swear from Bakugou told you the villain had vanished again.

Your heart beat double time, wondering anxiously how bad this match up was. Bakugou was the number two hero, and you’d always assumed he’d be well-matched against any type of quirk. You’d seen a million broadcasts of his takedowns, quick and purposeful and scarily precise, with one of the fastest takedown averages on record.

But it was clear this villain was slippery and all together too quick. You didn’t know how Bakugou was supposed to catch someone who could disappear within milliseconds.

You thought probably the only chance could be to unleash his full power. On the news, you’d seen him send entire buildings crumbling. If he wanted to, he could tear this entire storefront down, set the entire inside on fire and catch the villain no matter where he teleported to in this space.

But instead you were in the middle of things. Bakugou had to aim, had to hold back lest any debris hit you, had to angle himself around you to protect you, all while the teleport villain had no such qualms.

It was possible Bakugou wouldn’t be able to catch this guy under these conditions–and you were the impediment to blame.

You heard Bakugou’s explosion rip apart another display in the distance, and that gunfire crack of the villain disappearing. Heart in your mouth, you cast around you for something, anything that could help him.

If only there was something to even the odds…

And then you found it. Your gaze landed on the spill of oranges at your feet. Fat, round, heavy and hard. Perfectly projectile shaped.

Now that…that was something.

You quickly gathered as many of them as you could, your ankle twinging in protest when you leaned across the shelving that had trapped it. You scooped the oranges up in an armful, depositing them in your lap, grabbing the largest and hefting it aloft just as another gunshot sound echoed in front of you.

The villain flickered into view right in front of you. You drew your arm back, whipping the orange at him with all of your might. But then like a lightning strike, Bakugou was there, explosion in hand. The villain flashed back out of sight, flames raking the store behind him, nearly blinding in their brilliance.

In another millisecond, the orange caught Bakugou on the thigh. You could hear the hard thump of it against the muscle even over the crackle of Bakugou’s explosion. It sent Bakugou slightly off course, and he had to aim another shot at the ground to catch himself before landing on his feet.

Instantly he whipped around to glare at you, smoke rising off his hands. “Oi, brat, what the fuck’re you throwing shit at me for?”

Your mouth dropped open belatedly, shocked that you’d just beaned the number two hero with a navel orange.

“Oh shit—” you gasped out. “I didn’t mean—it was for him—”

Bakugou’s mouth opened, but then another crack sounded across the store, the teleport villain undoubtedly in sight again. Bakugou threw a shot at him again, but you could tell it had missed by the way the villain materialized again just behind Bakugou.

Before you knew what you’d done, another orange was already in flight. Instead of turning to hit the villain, Bakugou was forced to duck before the orange went right through where his head had been. You heard it hit the floor as the villain was gone again, bouncing into a roll.

“Fucking—! Brat, knock it the hell off!” Bakugou growled, his red-hot glare searing your skin. “Or I will cram those things so far up your—”

Another teleportation crack cut him off, and he launched an attack over your head. The heat scalded the top of your head, blowing a flurry of fruits off of the citrus display.

Good. More ammo, regardless of what Bakugou said.

Except, well, this time you would try to aim better.

It was another few heart-pounding minutes before you got your redemption shot, Bakugou and the teleport villain chasing one another all over the grocery store in the most anxiety-inducing game of cat and mouse you had ever witnessed. You could hear entire sections of the store becoming victim to Bakugou’s quirk, hear the sharp cackle of the villain’s laughter and Bakugou’s angry swearing.

And then came the moment.

The gunshot noise that heralded the teleport villain’s quirk exploded in the air right in front of you again, and it was then that you unleashed a volley of fruits–whipping one as hard as you could as you unleashed several more across the floor. A heel materialized just over a rolling orange, and then the rest of the villain—and you watched with malicious pleasure as his ankle buckled and he went to the floor just as hard as you had.

That moment of stunned surprise was all Bakugou needed. He was there in a single second, an explosion catching the villain and blowing him straight across the floor. He hit the side of another display with a sickening thud. Lettuce spattered him in a shower of leaves, plastic bagging fluttering in the aftershocks of Bakugou’s explosion.

Bakugou was on the villain again instantly, and you caught the silver flash of quirk suppressing cuffs as Bakugou buckled him to the shelves, snarling a victorious stream of swear-laden insults. The villain was unresponsive, clearly knocked unconscious by the force of Bakugou’s blow.

In under a minute, Bakugou was striding back over to you, his boots echoing heavily on the tile.

“Watch where the fuck you’re throwing shit next time, brat,” he snipped at you, even as he bent down, hands going under the shelving that had you pinned. His bicep corded with effort, and the metal screeched as it was lifted, clanging to the tile as Bakugou threw it off of you.

You watched it fall, dazed. Bakugou squatted down next to you, catching your ankle and pulling it carefully to him.

You blinked, surprised by the gentle touch, eyes following Bakugou as he leaned over your injury, poking and prodding carefully. His eyelashes dusted the tops of his cheekbones, long and golden and a little too pretty for a man.

“I–ouch–I got him though,” you said defensively.

Bakugou’s scarlet gaze flicked up to your face, and a weird zing went down your spine. He really was so gorgeous in person, you had to admit, even beat to hell like he was now.

“Got me too, you fuckin’ brat,” Bakugou said. Strangely, his expression went clearer as he spoke, however, like he wasn’t even that mad about it. His fingers pressed delicately at the inside of your ankle, just beneath the jut of bone.

“Well you were in the way,” you groused, though you knew your second throw really had been a little poorly aimed. Bakugou snorted.

“...Got a good fucking arm on you though,” he allowed after a few more seconds of prodding.

It startled a laugh out of you, and a surprising hint of a grin cut across Bakugou’s own mouth, white and straight and viciously pleased.

“I—thanks,” you said, strangely flattered. “I think.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou said, red eyes wandering over you. Then he went back to poking around your ankle, and you tried not to watch his arm flex as he shifted through the motions. “‘S fractured but not broken, I think,” he declared when he was finally satisfied.

“Oh,” you said, “Well that’s better than I thought.”

You shifted uneasily, wondering what the process was now that you’d been diagnosed. You’d never been in an attack before. Did you just sit here and wait for a paramedic to come to you? Or, could you ask Bakugou to help get you up to hobble out of the store?

You’d just decided to sit tight when Bakugou decided for you. A strong hand wormed its way under your thighs as another swept around your back, and then you were being hefted into Bakugou’s arms in one smooth, upsettingly easy movement.

Embarrassingly, your thighs clenched, even as your arms reflexively went around Bakugou’s neck.

You could feel a prickle of heat flaming across your face as he looked down at you, those scarlet eyes picking across your features. “Gonna get you to the paramedics, brat, they’ll fix your shit right up,” he said, so close now that you could feel his exhalation on your collarbone.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “I—yes, that sounds good—thanks.”

Bakugou nodded, shifting you more securely against him, and then picked his way across the rubble, holding you tight. You tried not to revel in the feeling of his arms around you, aware this was an entirely inappropriate train of thought to have during a rescue. Especially when you’d hit the man with an orange.

It was a disappointingly short journey—you were outside in nearly a minute, and it was only another few seconds before Bakugou set you down on the back of an ambulance. A young, friendly paramedic bustled over and Bakugou relayed your condition in a brusque growl.

Surprisingly, however, he lingered close as the paramedic assessed the condition of your ankle and applied his quirk—a green light that made every nerve in your leg hum in response, but instantly took away the pain in your ankle. Then the paramedic wrapped you in compression bandages to keep it set straight.

“Ice it when you get home and keep it elevated when you sleep,” he advised you in his spritely tone. “I’ve got a regeneration quirk so you should be all healed up by the time you wake up, but you’ll want to keep off of it as much as you can in the meantime.”

You thanked him, and were surprised when Bakugou thanked him too, although much more briskly.

Then Bakugou turned back to you, red eyes catching yours again. You found you couldn’t look away from him, as shy as you were suddenly feeling out in the daylight. A few seconds ticked by, and you could feel your ears going hot as Bakugou looked you over.

“So. You want dinner or what?” Bakugou asked finally, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes got momentarily stuck on the tear in his sleeve, the way the divot of muscle peeked through in the afternoon light.

Then you gaped up at him when you caught up with what he’d said. “Do I—dinner—with you?”

Bakugou looked down at you, a smirk curling his lip as if he’d just realized where your attention had been. “Yeah. ‘M off shift after I give this report. Thought you might want a thanks for the assist or whatever. But if you’re gonna be fuckin’ squirrely about it, then—”

“Yes!” You gasped out, almost before you even realized you’d spoken. A thrill like lightning sang down your spine, electrifying all your nerve endings. Bakugou Katsuki—pro hero Dynamight—had just asked you to dinner?

Of fucking course you were gonna say yes.

Your brain swam, still unsure you’d heard him correctly, but then he leaned in, an arm coming up to catch the side of the ambulance van just beside your face.

“Good,” he said, another viciously pleased smile cutting across his mouth. Something hot crawled into your stomach, and you suddenly realized dinner might be only the tip of the iceberg Bakugou was steering your ship towards. “Gonna have to have a word about your aim, though,” he said, his gaze searing. “Don’t think you’ve gotten out of it just because I like you and you got that teleport asshole too.”

The low, raspy way he spoke was heavier with promise more than reprimand—and it sent another swarm of shivers over your skin.

Bakugou’s eyes caught it, a reply even clearer than if you had spoken. He grinned victoriously, pushing off of the ambulance to stalk over the police presence that had started to amass just beyond the sidewalk, presumably to give his report.

“Stay right here, brat, I’ll be back for you,” he promised, and you grew roots in your seat.

And then you watched him stalk off, staring in disbelief after his broad back. You couldn’t believe the number two hero had just asked you to dinner. And after you’d accidentally beaned him with an orange!

All you’d done was go to the grocery store in anticipation of produce, and you’d walked out with the promise of a date instead.

A ridiculous loop of orange you glad you decided to go grocery shopping? echoed wildly in your brain, a sign of the sheer ridiculousness of your situation. But yeah, you thought, as Bakugou leaned in to speak to a police officer, those scarlet eyes cutting unmistakably back towards you.

You really, really were.