deeversuswords

[deeversuswords]

writing is like kpop lore. starts strong, makes sense for 2 minutes, then you black out and suddenly someone’s in a dystopian hallway holding a butterfly

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Come and Get It

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (they're married) summary: Katsuki drives you mad in his sleeveless turtleneck, so you act on it. word count: 2.5k contains: smut, primal play, alley+wall+rough sex, spanking, biting and marking, dom/sub undertones, hand on throat (not choking) ➥AO3 LINK

“Mrs. Bakugou?!”

The officer rushed to block your path, but you were a woman on a mission and with an urgent problem that needed immediate attention.

“Who else?” You flashed him an innocent smile and slipped, ducking under the tape. “Sorry! But I really need to speak with Dynamight.”

A much-needed conversation you hadn’t had since this morning. It could’ve waited if you hadn’t seen him on your oversized TV screen earlier, sweaty in his sleeveless turtleneck and grinning like a maniac while he took down a group of villains. Katsuki could deny it all he wanted, but fighting gave him a certain kind of high. Anyone with eyes could see that.

Like his fangirls whining behind the tape, jealous that you were let through.

Wifey privileges, as Katsuki called them.

“Mrs. Bakugou, you can’t. It’s dangerous!”

“Watch me,” you muttered under your breath. 

You broke into a sprint toward the wrecked intersection, leaving the poor officer behind, quaking in his shoes about your safety. Your sundress clung to your skin as you darted past rubble and fallen traffic lights, their exposed wires sparking like fireworks. Smoke, dust, and humidity choked the air, making your lungs fight for breath, your throat ache for moisture.

Anticipation buzzed so hot in your veins a squeal bubbled up before you could stop it. Then you spotted Katsuki—one hand on his hip, expression blasé as a detective talked his ear off—and the sound burst from your throat.

As you sped up, his head whipped in your direction, brows shooting to his hairline. What the fuck was written in every single line of his handsome, sweaty, soot-streaked face.

Katsuki left the detective’s side without a word to meet you halfway, securing you to him when your body launched itself into his arms. His strong, powerful, thick arms. Bare arms.

“The hell you doin’ here?” he asked.

You sucked in a breath and puffed it against his face, then planted a quick kiss on his mouth. His taste, his smell—you internally groaned. “I have a problem. A big, big problem that can’t wait.”

He wiped the soot off his cheek on his collar. “What problem? You okay?”

“I’m not okay.”

“No?” Worry crossed his face, eyes zeroing in on yours. “Somethin’ happened? Someone hurt you? You feelin’ sick? Fuck, woman. Speak up.”

Squirming in his hold, you slipped free and dropped to the ground, snagging his elbow. “I’m in pain. Sick. Because of you.”

“Huh? Me? Hell did I do?”

“You wore that top.”

Katsuki sputtered somewhere between confusion and indignation. “What you on about? Oi!” His legs locked, stopping yours cold. “Got a problem with my gear?”

You spun around, your dress fanning around your body, distracting him for a moment, and strolled backward toward the next side street. There was at least one shadowed alleyway you could lure him into. Licking the back of your teeth, you shamelessly ogled him and nodded.

“That’s right. I hate it.” When his brows furrowed, you added, “You said you wouldn’t have that top made.”

“And? Changed my mind. It’s hot as hell, and I’m sweatin’ too much in the other,” he retorted, voice gaining that spark of anger that usually lit up your own. Today, it ignited something else, something closer to wanting to push his buttons until he had no choice but to give you exactly what you needed.

“Not my problem.” You shrugged. “Sweat.”

Your name rolled off his tongue like a lethal warning. “You jealous, or some shit? ‘Cause you actin’ like a damn  brat right now, and it’s startin’ to piss me off.”

“I know how you can punish me,” you drawled, tracing along your thigh through the slit of your dress. “I’ll tell you…if you catch me.”

Before you bolted, you allowed yourself a second to see his reaction. Katsuki’s head tilted in that way that usually had you either drop to your knees or climb into his lap. Those stunning red eyes darkened as realization hit him with the real purpose of your visit. His nostrils flared as if your dirty little secret scented the air.

Dynamight? Gone. 

Bakugou Katsuki? Present to give chase and claim.

For the second time that day, you ran like your life depended on it, hunted by the man you came for. Exhilaration spread like sonic waves through your veins as his pounding steps closed in. Your heart careened faster down the slope of insatiable lust, your breaths turning ragged, sweat breaking hot across your skin.

When he finally got his hands on you, your mouth might just beg for everything unholy. Katsuki looking at you like that, manhandling you the way he liked, cut off your better judgment. You couldn’t care less who witnessed, so long as he took you and gave you him.

Veering to the side, you slowed down and swiveled to face him, backing away.

“Came here to fuck me, huh.” His grin was wild, unhinged, tongue stroking his canine as he panted. It was never a question, always a certainty. And Katsuki knew that. That confidence he had, that you’d never not want him, made you wetter.

You shook your head. “Wrong. I’m here so you—” your finger pointed at him, then at yourself. “—fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He advanced with the grace of a feline, each step slow and measured. “What if I said no? You do know that I’m breakin’ the rules for you, wifey.”

“Do you think I came here without an ace up my sleeve?”

“‘Course you did. Impress me.”

“You hate this one.” Your fingers slipped through the slit in your dress, parting the fabric to show him you weren’t wearing any panties. “Because you can never say no to it.”

Katsuki stopped and widened his stance, his hands working to remove his gauntlets. “Callin’ me pussy obsessed when it’s you who made a run for my cock? Cute.” One gauntlet dropped to the ground. “Put your fuckin’ hands on that wall.”

“Catch me first.”

“You really wanna get fucked like you ain’t my wife?” He threw the second gauntlet aside like it was scrap and stomped forward once, his merciful way of giving you precious seconds to choose.

You licked your dry lips. “Well, I don’t recall the last time you made me your slut. You’re getting a little soft, Katsuki.”

Time stilled under the echo of your ego jab. You knew the kind of nerve you struck in him, and the twilight settling in overhead didn’t help in staving off the shiver rocking your body. Muted navy light accentuated the menace living under his skin. The thrilling danger you deliberately provoked.

Scary, but yours. All yours.

“Run,” he said in the calmest voice.

Zero chances to make it, but you tried anyway, barely managing a step. His gloved hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling your adrenaline-induced scream before you could register it. He shoved you front-first against the wall and flipped your dress up.

“Soft, you said?”

He delivered a slap to your ass so sharp your eyes screwed shut as you bit back a pained groan. It reverberated through the alley, loud and telling. If this was how it would go, the chances of getting caught increased. Oddly, that thought nearly had your back arching.

“This what you want?”

Reaching up, you managed to pry two of his fingers off your mouth to half-moan, “Yes.”

His hand slid from your mouth to your jaw, angling your head to bare your neck. In true feral Katsuki fashion, he took your skin in his teeth and licked slowly, growling deep in his throat as if your taste was his one and only drug. Then sucked on your pulse to bruise it.

You couldn’t help the pitiful whimper escaping you, the desperation rising like a furious tide. Your ass pushed back into him, feeling for the heat of his cock.

He rewarded your lack of shame with another harsh slap.

“Behave.” His utility belt crashed to the floor, followed by his glove, and you felt him working his pants lower, the waistband dragging slow against the back of your thighs. “You should see yourself. Fuckin’ soaked for me. What got you goin’ like this, huh?”

“The top,” you panted out, wanting to look at him, but his hold prevented you. “Should be illegal on you.”

“Uh-huh.” His feverish tip dragged over your entrance, coating itself in your slick, making both your breaths catch. “Shit. Keep talkin’. Tell me more about it.”

“Your shoulders and b-biceps look—” You exhaled shakily as he began to circle your swollen clit with the head of his cock. “—criminal in it. Please fuck me already.”

Katsuki pulled you back by the neck, forcing your spine to arch, and rasped hotly in your ear. “Don’t think for a second that half-assed beggin’ does it. I just ain’t got the time to make you cry for it. Later.”

He drove his hips forward, filling you up in one slippery thrust. A choked, broken moan tore from your throat as your hands anchored to him. One grappled his forearm, the many metal bumps on his bracer digging into your palm, while the other fisted the back of his collar.

The stretch was a piece of heaven he forbade you from savoring. He drew back to the tip and slammed in harder. Much harder and more aggressive. Fucking you like you existed in the moment to make him come, to satisfy his animal urges.

But while his cock might not care, the rest of him did. To make you crazier for him.

Katsuki’s hand braced against the wall on the knuckles as the one on your neck used his thumb to move your head to the side, giving you a delicious view of his veiny, straining bicep. He kept his mouth at your ear, so the only sounds you heard—save for the snapping of his hips—were his changes in breath.

“This what fucks you up?” His voice came out rougher than usual, packed with lust, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over your skin. He flexed the defined muscles, and your pussy instantly contracted. “Yeah, you like that, huh. Want ’em bigger? More ripped?”

Words evaded you. You could only let out a helpless moan.

“If you want my cum drippin’ outta you, answer me.”

“You’re p-perfect like this. The best. Katsuki—Ah.” A gasp tore from your throat at the sudden angle change. “Need you deeper.”

“Keep your eyes where they are.”

He removed his hand from your throat to lift your leg, opening you more to him. That extra inch he got in had the first of his hoarse moans escape, a sign he was slipping under with you.

And your cue to disobey.

You let go of his collar and leaned toward his arm, licking over the bulged vein of his muscles, groaning at the taste of his skin. Salty with a tinge of ash. You heard him snarl mark me from somewhere deep in his heaving chest, and without hesitation, sank your teeth into him, alternating between licking and sucking hard. Like you would his cock.

“Fuck yeah. That’s my good slutty girl,” he grunted, his breath going shaky. “Chose you well. So fuckin’ well.”

Katsuki changed the angle, his throbbing cock stroking your sweet spot with a precision that filled your head with static as you burned up for him, for the fire he stoked deep inside you.

When you flared like the sun, it would be all him.

And if someone happened to catch you two? Their misfortune. Katsuki wouldn’t stop. He’d keep going until your brain melted from pleasure, and patronize them with one look. They’d have to remove themselves from the scandalous scene.

Something shut down in your brain at the thought—probably the last rational part. You met him thrust for thrust, your broken cries mixing with his string of profanities, both echoes of the depravity happening not far from the crowd screaming for him or hoping for an interview.

You stole a look at their pro hero over your shoulder.

All those people, unaware his prolonged absence was your fault. Unaware of how far gone he was, obsessed with watching where you were joined. Unaware that Katsuki looked ten times hotter when he fucked like a man who’d die if he wasn’t balls deep in his wife, sweat shimmering drops on his brow, breaths panted in harsh huffs.

Skin slapped skin in a vicious rhythm. Carnal sounds rang louder and louder. Lewd, obscene, uncontrollable.

“Katsuki,” you breathed out his name.

Glazed red eyes dragged up, clearing a fraction at whatever they saw on your face. 

He wrenched his arm from the wall and banded it over your front, fingers landing on your clit, working you faster to orgasm.

“I got you,” he promised, kissing your sweaty temple. Then under your ear. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head to the side through the lusty haze, toes curling at the anticipated intensity of having eye contact with him. What you got instead was his mouth on yours, kissing you deep and hungry, sending your insides into a frenzy of flutters that rippled between your legs.

His skilled fingers pressed harder. His cock hit just right.

You whimpered into his mouth, body locking up as pleasure consumed your nerves, flinging you over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you, making your legs shake and pussy clench hard around him, desperate to trap him, keep him there forever. You couldn’t breathe from the force—could barely hear your satisfied sobs over the loud pounding in your ears.

“That’s it. Fuck,” Katsuki groaned into the kiss, his hips snapping brutally through your convulsing walls, chasing his own addictive high. “So damn pretty like this. Gonna take it all, yeah? Milk my cock for all it’s worth.”

“Y-yeah. Give it to me.” You caught the stray bead of sweat on his jaw with your tongue. “Need it so bad.”

He grunted, reared back, and gripped your hips, fucking you with wild abandon. A sharp gasp tore from your lungs when he buried himself to the hilt seconds later with a strangled moan. His hands shook on your body as his cock pulsed, emptying every last drop deep inside you.

Katsuki’s arms wrapped around your middle, about to mold you to him, when foreign voices came too close to the alley’s entrance. The prospect of a minute of just being in his embrace stolen from you.

“Gotta be kiddin’ me. Shit.” He pulled out, fixed your dress, and turned you around. Afterward, he bothered with tucking himself in, completely coated with the evidence of your public indecency. He drew his tense shoulders back. “You were sayin’?”

Your mouth curved up. “I was saying that—Oh, I’m suddenly feeling faint.” 

You fell against him dramatically, fingers clutching at his top. Perfectly timed with the appearance of the two figures. Katsuki caught your so-called limp body and shot you a pointed look. But pride glinted in his eyes still drunk on you.

“You’re such a little shit,” he scoffed, failing to hide his grin.

[deeversuswords]

can I. can I say something about professional published smut. a lot of times they are too foul mouthed with it. thats not where the sexiness lies

[deeversuswords]

"Say Something"

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 609

The dishes were still in the sink.

Maybe that was how it started. Or maybe it was about the laundry. Or maybe it was nothing at all. The point was, you didn’t remember. You never did. Not with Katsuki.

The shouting started like it always did: sharp, sudden, and loud. It was just another Tuesday night and you were two people with too much history and too little peace.

"You could just say what you mean for once!" you snapped, hands clenched at your sides.

Katsuki stood on the other side of the kitchen, jaw locked, eyes blazing. "Don’t turn this into some emotional bullshit! Just say what you’re mad about!"

You laughed, bitter. "I don’t even know anymore. Does it matter? You’ll just yell until I shut up, right? That’s how this goes."

He scoffed, turning away. "Tch. Don’t start acting like some kind of damn victim."

There it was. The final nail in the coffin. You felt your chest cave in, the weight of all the fights and the trying and the years of loving someone who built walls so high even you couldn’t climb them.

"I can’t do this anymore," you said quietly.

Katsuki didn’t turn. "Then don’t."

"I mean it, Katsuki. I’m done."

That made him look. His eyes searched yours, looking for the fight that usually flickered back at him. But you were just... empty.

"What, so you’re gonna walk out because of one stupid argument?"

You shook your head. "No. I’m walking out because you won’t let me in. Because after all this time, I still feel like some stranger in your life. I’ve given you everything. And I’m so damn tired."

Katsuki didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

You took a shaky breath, grabbed your coat from the hook, and stepped toward the door.

"Fine," he muttered. "Go, then. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone."

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Closed your eyes. Then turned it.

The second the door creaked open, the silence behind you cracked.

"Wait."

You turned your head slightly, not enough to face him.

His voice wasn’t angry anymore. It wasn’t anything you recognized.

"Don’t go."

You turned fully now. And for the first time in years, Katsuki Bakugou looked... terrified.

"I didn’t mean that shit," he said, voice breaking. "I just... I don’t know how to do this."

You stared at him, throat tight. "Do what?"

"This. You. Us. Saying shit. Feeling shit. I don’t know how to not screw it up. But I don’t want you to go."

He stepped forward, hands twitching at his sides. "You say I keep you out and maybe that’s true. But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s 'cause I do. Too damn much."

You were crying now, silent tears down your cheeks.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because I’m scared," he admitted. "Because the second I let you all the way in, you could wreck me. And I know I wouldn’t survive that. But I’m already wrecked, aren’t I? You’re walking out and I... I can’t let you."

You hesitated. "You can’t just say this now because you’re losing me."

"I know. But I’m saying it anyway. I should’ve said it every damn day. You matter to me more than anything. I love you, damn it. I’ve loved you and I’ve been too much of a coward to say it."

The coat slipped from your hands.

Katsuki crossed the space between you like he was afraid you'd vanish. His arms wrapped around you, holding you like a lifeline.

"Don’t go," he whispered against your hair. "I’ll do better. I swear. Just... please stay."

Bakugou Masterlist Fanfic Masterlist

[deeversuswords]

[deeversuswords]

﹒♡ CURRENT BOYFRIEND CHALLENGE

ft. katsuki bakugo

“Hey, can I record something real quick?”

Bakugo’s sprawled on the couch, hair still damp from his shower, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and a spoon halfway to his mouth. He eyes you suspiciously over his bowl of spicy noodles.

“Tch. The hell are you planning?”

“Nothing bad,” you say, sliding into the seat beside him with your phone already recording. “Just a little TikTok thing. You don’t have to do anything. Just… exist.”

He grunts. That’s as close to “fine” as you’ll get from him.

You point the camera at yourself, making sure he’s in frame behind you. “Okay,” you begin sweetly, “so I’m here with my current boyfriend…”

Bakugo pauses mid-bite.

His head slowly turns. “…Your what?”

You bite your lip, fighting a smile, still filming. “My current boyfriend.”

The look on his face and the meanest side eye says you have three seconds to explain before I level this apartment.

He sets the bowl down without breaking eye contact. “Current?”

“Mhm,” you say, leaning into the act. “You know, just until I find someone better.”

You don’t even get a full breath in before he’s on you — not aggressively, but fast, almost knocking the wind out of you. He grabs your phone and points the camera straight at himself.

“The fuck does that mean, current?” he growls, eyes sharp but his voice low. “There ain’t gonna be a next boyfriend. You think this is some temp job or somethin’? You think someone else can handle you like I can?”

You snort-laugh, but your face is heating up.

“Aww katsu’ You’re cute when you’re possessive.”

“I’m always possessive,” he snaps, tossing your phone gently onto the couch and crowding you until your back hits the cushions. “Say that ‘current’ shit again. Go on.”

You lift your chin, pretending to stay cocky. “My current boyfriend—”

He kisses you. Hard. One hand gripping your waist, the other braced by your head. When he pulls back, your brain is static and your lips are tingling.

“Say it again,” he says against your mouth, voice husky. “I dare you.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “I… might need to start calling you my forever boyfriend.”

A smug, dangerous smirk stretches across his face. “Damn right you do.”

He kisses you again, slower this time. Hungrier.

Somewhere, your phone keeps recording.

2025 © SAKURASZN !

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.10

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER SUMMARY — The confrontation with Bakugou ends in one breakdown and one mistake.

CHAPTER WARNINGS — masturbation

WORD COUNT — ~4.7k

a/n: once upon a time, this chapter was 4.2k words and a little bit different in vibe, but i woke up on friday with a loose screw. i hope you enjoy the aftermath of my loose screw that prevented a portion of scene 1 from being cut out :D

“The hell you doin’ with Izuku?” Katsuki growled the second you were both out of sight, making a grab at you.

You dodged. Stayed silent. Quickened your pace, beelining for the bar where you leaned forward on your forearms, the slight arch in your back teasing.

Katsuki looked.

Of course, he fucking looked.

He had no choice but to roam the curve of your spine down to your ass as he stomped up beside you, fuming like a bull surrounded by red. You were as hot, as annoying, and as madness-inducing as the blood scalding his veins.

“We don’t usually take requests for custom drinks, but I could make an excep—”

“Get us two whiskey highballs,” Katsuki cut in, glaring at the bartender as he slid onto the stool closest to you. Making an exception? Damn bartender, trying to flirt. The bar was supposed to be order-and-go, but with no one around, he shot his shot. His leg rested against the back of your thighs. “Make ‘em strong.”

You tensed, twisting at the waist to shoot him a warning look.

“R-right away, sir,” the bartender stammered, stepping away.

“I don’t appreciate you taking liberties with my drink,” you said.

“And I don’t appreciate you takin’ liberties with Izuku. Your point?”

Lowering your gaze to the bar, you traced your fingertips over the cracks in the wood. Light glinted off the surface, harsher in places where the bartender had wiped away condensation or spillage. “I don’t think you realize how your behavior looks right now,” you drawled, meeting his eyes. “Really fucking inappropriate for a married man.”

You were just as inappropriate. Observed him from under your lashes, all defiant and smug, like you were perched on some throne, and he was at your feet. Tolerated his leg against the back of your thighs. Shifted your weight, popping your hip out. Swore and kicked his blood pressure into next gear.

He’d heard you swear before—that tongue of yours could be as scandalous as his, dirty and cruel—but right now, he found it provocative. Too provocative. He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows, hands itchy for the softness of your skin.

“That’s rich comin’ from you, Truthie.” Katsuki matched your tone, knocking the back of your thighs twice with his leg. “Goin’ after Izuku? Cheap as hell.”

“Is it? Since when?” You turned sideways and bent lower, filling the air with your scent, stealing his breath for a second. “We’re not involved in any way. And Midoriya and I? Adults. Single, not-committed-to-anyone adults.”

“Yeah?” His lips quirked up with cruelty. “Then what the hell were you cryin’ for when I kissed my wife?”

Your nails scraped the bar top. Smug confidence drained from your face, and you tried to back off, but he clasped your wrist and yanked you in. You gasped, lost your balance, and caught yourself on his leg.

“What are you doing? Let go before someone sees,” you hissed, fighting his grip. “Do you want ‘trouble in paradise’ trending?”

He resisted barking a laugh. The same shit he threw in wife-on-paper’s face you tossed at him. Goddamn. There had to be a string of his frequency inside you, because what the hell? Exact words. Exact meaning. This was fun, and he wanted more of it.

“You’re a walking contradiction, you know that?” His thumb skimmed your pulse, blunt nail grazing. It raced like a small animal cornered. His own wasn’t much calmer.

“You’re no better.” You sounded breathless. “You claim to hate her, but your actions say otherwise.”

“That somethin’ you should tell a married man?” Katsuki slid off the stool, losing your touch on his leg. His heart stumbled in his chest from what he was about to do. His body shielded half of yours, and the ongoing contact. Mouth at your ear, he rasped. “Really fuckin’ inappropriate.”

Anger sliced through your blown-out pupils. You fisted his sweater, ready to tear into him, but were forced to drop it. The bartender returned with the drinks, then scurried away. As he should. The perimeter was dangerous; two predators were circling each other.

Katsuki maintained eye contact as he reached for the glass, condensation dampening his palm. Bubbles broke the surface, tiny drops landing on his nose when he took a deep swig. His throat worked it down, the alcohol feeding the fire, wrecking him and creeping into his already-drunk brain.

“Thought you knew better than fallin’ for appearances,” he said.

You copied him. Your lips wrapped around the glass rim. Ice cubes clinked when you tilted it back for a sip. Again, when you set it on the bar. The whole act dripped fury and seduction wrapped in one aggravating package. It completely wrecked his focus.

The surroundings blurred. All he knew was you, your imprint on the glass and the blood pumping violently into his dick.

Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

But he craved a taste.

“That would apply if I knew you, but I don’t. And I have no interest to.”

You tried for an unimpressed once-over but blew it the second your eyes caught the strain in his pants. You swallowed so hard, Katsuki was tempted to take a mouthful of the alcohol and feed it to you himself. To keep your throat from drying up.

Damn.

Was he seeing this right? Was he having the same effect on you? Turning you on?

“Here’s the thing, Bakugou,” you continued, picking at your clothes. Adjusting them. “I get that Midoriya is your friend, but stay out of it unless you plan on explaining why you’re acting like some jealous ex.”

“You want him?”

“None of your business. This conversation is officially over.”

You swiped the drink off the bar and turned to leave, just like that night. He’d done nothing then because he couldn’t, but things were different now. His hand slapped over your hip and pulled you into him, back flush to his front. Things that shouldn’t be touching…fucking touching.

“Are you—”

“Shut up,” he gritted, a hot shiver rolling over his skin. His restraint shuddered. “Don’t you dare squirm, or we’re makin’ the headlines within the hour.”

You regarded him from the corner of your eye. “You’re playing a dangerous game right now.”

“We both are,” he scoffed. “Three things, Truthie. Where the hell were you and my so-called wife that night? What was that smell on your shirt? And what do you want from Izuku?”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Why are you smelling my shirt? Again, none of your business.” Your ass pushed back into him as you shifted to elbow his gut. “Let me be clear. I don’t care about you or your life, so stop sniffing around mine. It’s creepy.”

He bit back a groan, not letting go. Shit didn’t hurt, but the friction? A real fucking problem. “Yeah, right. That’s why you’re hidin’ shit from me about my life. Who the hell you think you’re foolin’, huh?”

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re being ridiculous. Why would I hide anything about your life when you’re not even on my interest radar?” You smacked your hand over his and tried to pry it off. “And move your hard, married dick away. It’s against the wrong ass.”

“Move your ass away from it. You got that option.”

His gaze dragged slowly down your spine, stopping at the source of your supposed discomfort. The visual shot straight to his dick, beyond calming at this point. It jerked against your ass. Leaked into his boxers.

You swiveled around and jumped back two steps. He would’ve taken it as rejection—if not for your ragged breathing, your thighs clenched tight, and the way you looked at him. Hungry, but scared. Because he’d outed you for the liar you were.

“No interest, huh?” His hand slipped into his pocket, tugging the fabric inward until the outline of his dick was front and center. “You sure?”

“Bakugou—”

“Tell me what I wanna know. I’ll pretend you ain’t ruinin’ your panties ‘cause of my married dick.”

Your composure seemed to crumble under the crude truth. You screwed your eyes shut, smacked a hand over your forehead, and breathed in and out for a few long seconds. When your eyes opened, they were dark with defiance, challenge, and something else that felt like your hand on him, giving him some relief.

“The only thing I’m ruining is my day. Married men, especially ones like you, don’t get me dripping. But you know what does?” You were back in his space, dragging a finger down the ridge of his abs. “Cute, attentive, single guys like the one waiting for me at the table.”

Katsuki instantly bristled. His jaw locked. “Don’t you dare.”

“Or what?” You tilted your head. “What are you going to do, Dynamight? Cock block your friend because…?”

“You—”

Both of your heads snapped toward the furious staccato of heels. There was only one person who could be behind that.

“Perfect timing.” You reached for his glass and pushed it toward him, tapping his chest like he’d just been rejected by his crush, and you were there to placate his pride. “Cool off. Drink up. Or ask your wife to do it. Or both. Have fun. You need it.”

His fist came down hard on the bar as you skipped past, rattling the glasses. A snarl tore from his chest.

Fucking brat.

Damn little shit.

Pain in his ass.

He was going to ruin your fucking night. If you seriously thought you were getting any dick tonight, you were dead wrong.

Not only were you hiding shit from him, and lying straight to his face about it, but you left him with a raging boner that felt like it might explode from pressure, and dared to pretend you didn’t want him.

At the very least, for a one-time fuck.

“It’s been fifteen minutes. What the hell are you doing?” wife-on-paper seethed, getting in his face.

He ignored her. Swept your glass off the bar and downed it, licking his lips to catch the lingering hint of your taste, while she watched. The game he played was dangerous, risky, but he knew wife-on-paper already crossed you out. She’d never make the connection.

You were Izuku’s option, or whatever. Not…

“Katsuki. Are you listening?”

He wouldn’t be, if he had a choice. She was suffocating. Trapping him. Leeching his freedom.

“Gonna take a piss,” he spat, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Don’t follow. It ain’t code for a quick fuck.”

On his way to the restroom, he flicked at the stupid wedding ring with his thumb. He hated it, more and more every day.

And he hated his name in her mouth, hated the way she demanded answers she wasn’t entitled to.

But above all, he hated her touch. With the same intensity he craved yours.

You.

The dangerous threat to his sanity that had him checking he was alone before heading to the last stall.

The worst temptation that got his hand in his pants, gripping tight around the base of his cock before the door was even shut and locked.

The unholy corruption that stripped away whatever inhibition he had left, making him free himself, spit into his palm, and jerk off like a fucking loser in a restaurant restroom.

A sin.

But his nonetheless.

Married men, especially ones like you, don’t get me dripping. But you know what does? Cute, attentive, single guys like the one waiting for me at the table.

Bullshit. Lies. All goddamn lies. It wasn’t guys like that, or guys like Izuku. It was him. Somehow, a piece of your world revolved around him, and that was why you were acting out.

He knew that now. Felt it in his soul. Katsuki had fucked his own heart over thinking it was impossible, only to be proven wrong by one reckless interaction you chased. It was you who followed him when you could’ve stayed seated at the table, playing stranger until the dinner ended.

Something was there. Something meant for him. Whatever it was, he’d capitalize on it.

Fuck broke from his lungs, raw and needy, as he braced himself on the cold tile, half-lidded gaze shamelessly watching his hand stroking faster. The pitiful organ in his chest pounded desperately, relishing the crumble of hope, eager to claim your something.

His choppy breaths were suddenly too loud in his ears, drying his mouth. He licked his lips and kicked back a groan, reminded of the scrap of your taste he gathered off the glass rim. Your teasing touch on his abs returned like a ghost, together with the sound of his hero name rolling off your tongue.

Three things that warped his brain into an illusion where you kissed him like an addiction. Demanded him like an obsession. Said his given name like ownership.

Because he was your favorite.

Katsuki. Katsuki. Katsuki.

Katsuki saw fucking stars as he came all over his hand and tiles, holding his breath so no sounds left and shaking from every fiber of his rigid muscles. Your imaginary voice saying his name kept him going extra seconds until nothing dripped out of him, except sweat.

As he tried to catch his breath, panting quietly, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He glared at his filthy hand. His dick was happy, but he was getting pissed. That shit was embarrassingly unsatisfying. And now he had to play cleaner, wipe every drop of evidence, otherwise his face would be slapped next to some ridiculous headline.

Cum found in a popular restaurant’s restroom. Shocker! It’s Dynamight’s.

“Fuckin’ hell are you a moron,” he muttered, ripping some toilet paper and wiping his spent dick raw. “Bakugou…Katsuki, huh.”

The idiot who didn’t know what giving up was and put everything on the line to win where it mattered. The stubborn bastard who never went down without a fight.

He needed his freedom, and he knew exactly who the perfect candidate was to help him get it.

You welcomed the breeze cooling your flushed skin as you stood on the sandy border, close enough for the ocean washing over the beach to lap at your shoes with the last of its strength. Eyes lost to the starry surface. Mind so far away it’d need a beat longer to return.

The world was small, despite its size. When you had accepted Midoriya’s invitation, it didn’t even cross your mind that it’d turn out like this. You expected a meal, drink, and light conversation, not Bakugou and his wife. Not getting a kick out of having your legs tangled with his under the table, while she clung pathetically to him. Not crumbling under the pressure of the thrill and seeking more of it. And definitely, not losing the reins on your composure and brain.

Him, hard and twitching against your ass, nearly checkmated you. Damn off-limits bastard got you wet and needy in record time. You were so ready for him, you probably would’ve ignored your spasming moral compass and let him bend you over that bar to fuck whatever he wanted out of you if he asked. Himself out of your system, preferably.

He was like a virus, plaguing your mind, infecting your rationality, disrupting your flow.

He was present, even now, an hour after leaving the restaurant and sending him and Miyuki off with a cab. Putting thoughts in your head and making it awkward to be with Midoriya. You already knew how the night would end—with a fantasy of him and your fingers buried deep.

“I had a wonderful time, Midoriya. Thank you,” you forced yourself to say, kicking lightly at the sand.

He shifted beside you and cleared his throat. “Me too. It was great, and, uh…unexpected.”

“Crazy how small the world can be.”

“Yeah. Um…” He hesitated over your last name, drawing your attention to him. His eyes fastened on yours. Nervous, yet still glowing with the same interest they’d held all night, twisting your stomach with guilt. “I wanted to say thank you. For agreeing to join Kacchan and his wife. You didn’t have to. It was just a casual dinner between us, but you went along with it anyway. I’m really grateful.”

What was it about Bakugou that had you igniting like a supernova, indifferent to whether he met you halfway or snuffed out the light? The forbidden? The one-sided past?

Midoriya was right here—well-mannered, kind, and attentive, just like he’d been since you met up at seven. Good-looking, too. Yum, as Ayumu said.

But he wasn’t your type. Or maybe he wasn’t because you’d never had a piece of someone like him. Sometimes, that’s all it took to realize something was exactly what you needed.

Did you want a piece of Midoriya?

“Kacchan?” you prodded, keeping your tone light.

He blinked, taken aback, and let out an awkward laugh. “It’s what I call him,” he said. “I’ve been doing it since we were kids. Some habits die hard, but honestly, I think some stick with you for life, no matter what you do.”

You silently agreed, guilty of the same. Your pin boards could attest to it. You’d tried using tech to puzzle things together, but staring at monitors while hunting for patterns felt like undeserved punishment. The old-school way was ingrained in your instinct. Post-its. Color coding. Strings connecting the push pins across the board. Hours upon hours of staring until your eyes were dry.

“You two are childhood friends?” Midoriya nodded, and a playful smile bloomed on your face. An idea sparked in your brain like an exposed wire. “Does he have a nickname for you, too?”

“Deku.”

“Deku? As in your hero name?”

“It’s a long story.” Something akin to nostalgia settled over his features as he turned his gaze to the rippling waves. “He hasn’t called me that outside of hero work in years. Definitely better than me at breaking habits.” Another laugh. Quieter. Softer. “Sometimes I slip on duty, call him Kacchan, and he chews me out for it.”

They were close, making Midoriya perfect for your backup plan. If Bakugou turned out to be a villain—or if he was in danger—Midoriya would act, if you needed him to.

“Was he always like this? Snappy, impatient, blunt?”

“Eh?”

You winced. Real subtle. Might as well write on your forehead: Interested in Bakugou Katsuki. Send info. Your fingers found a loose thread on the hem of your shirt and crushed it.

Midoriya mulled over your words. “Did he say anything when you went for a drink? I know he’s got a way with words.”

Just say? Try say and do.

Warmth flared in your cheeks, your heart stumbling into a feverish beat that incinerated the last of your inner peace. It pulsed lower, between your legs, waves like tiny whimpers, desperate for the slightest touch. As you shifted your weight, your slicked panties dragged over your aching clit like a tongue, and you mentally cursed your whole existence.

You shuddered. Violently. Like you’d been electrocuted.

Bakugou’s imaginary, pesky presence intensified, encasing your body, burrowing into your flushed skin. He hijacked your inner voice, cockiness cranked to the maximum.

Thinkin’ of me eatin’ you out when he’s right there? Inappropriate, Truthie.

“Are you okay?” Midoriya asked.

Nah. Needs a ride on my tongue.

You slapped your hands over your face. “I think the salt in the air finally got me. My eyes sting.” Your brain stung too…from cuckooness. Stupid, stupid brain.

“Allow me to check?” Midoriya stepped in front of you, his body blocking some of the breeze. “It’s getting quite windy, so it could be sand.”

Peeking at him through your fingers, you fluttered your lashes to sell the story as you prepared to reject his offer. You must’ve looked like a bad comedy personified. “It’s getting better. Thanks.”

“You don’t seem well.”

That’s cause she wants co—

“I’m fine!”

You jumped back to put some distance, only to lose your balance in your haste. And Midoriya was right there, catching you and pulling you close. If there’d been space between you before, now there was barely any.

Two surprised breaths met in the middle.

The air thickened, scented by the possibility of mistakes. Midoriya’s hand, still resting on your elbow, glided down to your hand. His thumb brushed hesitantly over your pulse, already in overdrive.

Bakugou did that too. But he was confident in the way he touched, bold in how he teased that sensitive spot. For someone so crude, his seduction was dark, dangerous, deep. Wrapped in expensive silk.

Midoriya’s was probably more like cotton. Fluffy. Consistent. Surface-level.

“We should probably go,” you said, pretending not to see how his head inclined a fraction toward you. “It’s getting late.”

It was always in the late hours, under the reign of night and its darkness, when impulses were harder to resist and mistakes tended to happen. You were prone to one tonight. He seemed to be, too.

Midoriya nodded, withdrew his hand, and smiled.

His eyes didn’t crinkle.

You were halfway up the stairs when his hand returned to your wrist, making you pause. He uttered your last name, and your heart skipped at the composed tone in his voice. You turned to face him.

Pale light from the streetlamp above cast shadows across his face, accentuating the maturity in his features and dissolving any lingering association between him and the word cute. In that moment, there was nothing soft or fluffy about him. Midoriya looked every inch a man shaped by past tragedies, fought battles, and steely convictions.

He tipped his head to the side as his serious gaze landed on your hand, still clasped in his.

“What is it?” you whispered.

“Can we do a repeat of today sometime?” His deep green eyes flitted to yours. “Just us?”

“As…acquaintances?”

“I want to get to know you, so I guess not.”

“A date?” His thumb began to rub absently over your pulse, answering for him. You shook your head with a quiet sigh. “Midoriya, I don’t date. I’m sorry. I’m too busy to commit, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. But we can be… friends?”

Too busy bein’ committed to me, you mean. I’m everywhere in your head, in—

You sliced through that inner voice possessed by him. Silencing it for all but a moment.

For years.

“Platonic is good too,” he said, nodding as if trying to convince himself more than agree with you. “But before we settle on that, there’s something I can’t stop thinking about. I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

That something wasn’t related to you and Bakugou…right? Midoriya hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t noticed. You’d been impulsive, sure, but discreet at the table. At least, you hoped so.

“Something?”

He climbed the only step separating you, and you could see the whole spectrum of green in his eyes with how close he was. Your lips parted on a swift inhale and froze like that when his mirrored. The air between you trembled. Something wasn’t vague anymore. It had shape. Weight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, soft but certain. “Just this once. Then we forget about it.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart went mad, and he was probably feeling it. Did you want a piece of him? Because here it was: a one-time invitation, no strings attached. A golden opportunity. You might find out that what you needed was indeed softer in nature. Or, you just might end up confirming you liked bleeding on jagged edges.

You looked between his eyes. “Why?”

“I’d keep wondering, and I don’t want to if we’re going to be friends.”

Do it. Kiss him. Fuckin’ face the truth. Confirm me.

“But if you—” Midoriya tried.

“Kiss me.”

One heartbeat of absolute silence passed.

Then his lips were on yours, stumbling you back into the railing. Soft and a little bit impatient. His arm banded around your middle, shielding you from the cold metal, while the other cupped your cheek.

You kissed him. Parts of you melted under the almost innocent lip-lock, but your core searched for that sensation that drowned you and made you soar at the same time.

You grew desperate when it didn’t find it. Your heart accelerated with the why. Denial brewed in the heat of your persistent desire that had nothing to do with the man learning the shape of your lips. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

You were committed to no one.

Soul, heart, body—they were yours alone. Listening to you. Responding to you. Acting the way you wanted them to.

And right now, you wanted your soul to withdraw into some isolated corner, your heart to shut up, and your body to tune into his and be greeted by the steady drumming of his honest heart.

Angling your head, you teased his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, and he welcomed it with a restrained moan. The sound sank into your bones, weakened your knees. But when his taste registered, you fisted a hand into his dress shirt.

Stop searchin’. It ain’t me.

It could never be him.

Midoriya grew bolder, hand skimming over your side, down to your hip.

You’re runnin’.

You weren’t.

Running away looked different.

You were here. Present and engaged. Eroding in arms that were strong but kind, not possessive. Heart disintegrating into a desolate void that expanded with each moment you spent giving Midoriya pieces of yourself that weren’t meant for him.

At its peak, that void sucked you into its gravitational field of cruel truth and repelled him, who belonged elsewhere.

Your hand was on his chest, pushing, while the rest of your body leaned so far back you might’ve joined the world at the horizontal, if not for his arm still wrapped around you

Both of you stood frozen.

Wide-eyed.

Staring.

And in the pregnant silence between two mismatched heartbeats, that look said it all: This was a mistake.

Ringing tore through the suffocating atmosphere before regret could fully settle, startling you both. Midoriya stepped back, one step more for someone who had just kissed you.

“Kacchan?” he muttered as he checked his phone. Worry chased away the aftermath of your mutual mistake, and your stomach twisted with dread. If something happened to him— “Is everything okay?”

Your senses zeroed in on him, anticipating his voice. You’d never been more grateful for the extra sensitivity your quirk came with.

”You home yet?”

That raspy baritone perforated the void in your chest. Your hands grabbed the railing behind you, slightly trembling.

“Um.” Midoriya looked at you, then answered. “Not yet. Why?”

“You ain’t alone.” Bakugou’s response landed like an accusation, punctuated by the sharp, loud click of his tongue. “Should’ve said so. Same woman from earlier?”

The skin over your knuckles pulled taut. The fucking void shrunk. Because of him.

Damn him and his timing. As if he knew what you’d done—sensed it—and died to rub salt into your fresh, bleeding wound, while reissuing his obscure little claim on—

He had no right.

No fucking right to be anything.

Your dynamic was a doomed, rotten web. Spun from impulsivity. Held together by the inability to back the fuck off.

He was married.

A suspect.

Your enemy.

“I’ll call you back.”

Midoriya ended the call and continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression for a few long minutes. Quietly observing. Thinking. Probably wondering why your kiss tasted like a fallacy.

Your heart ached, longed, and revolted. But you peeled your fingers from the railing, straightened your spine, and forced a disarming smile onto your face.

Let it hurt. Let it cry and scream. Let it mourn what could never be.

One foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Three steps.

“Still want to be friends?” you asked, standing close again to the man whose kiss you could barely remember. A mirage to your senses.

His shoulders sagged as he sighed, gaze drifting sideways. Small creases appeared between his brows as he considered your question as though this were a pivotal moment in his life.

When he looked back at you, Midoriya mirrored your relaxed expression, your smile; his was sincere. “Yes. I want to.”

And you realized…

His hesitation wasn’t suspicion. It was about letting go of whatever reason he had for kissing you in the first place.

A reason you weren’t curious to know.

taglist: @lunaryasha | @tomiokasecretlover | @fiselle | @5oftkitty | @lousypotatoes

[deeversuswords]

I almost scrapped the ending of the first scene, then toyed with the idea of fading to black and leaving it implied. In the end, I said "fuck it" and rewrote it to express what it needs to. Rewrote the ending of the second scene too. And somehow I'm still surprised that this chapter went from 4.2k to 4.7k words?

Doing some final edits to chapter 10 of Uncovered, and I'm 700 words in, trying to survive it because I woke up, looked at it, and was like "How can I worsen the tension between these two? I want it to feel hot and suffocating."

Guess who's in a chokehold now with over 3k words to go through.

I mean... (don't 'keep reading' if you don't want a teeny tiny spoiler.)

“You’re a walking contradiction, you know that?” His thumb skimmed your pulse, blunt nail grazing. It raced like a small animal cornered. His own wasn’t much calmer.

“You’re no better.” You sounded breathless. “You claim to hate her, but your actions say otherwise.”

“That somethin’ you should tell a married man?” Katsuki slid off the stool, heart stumbling in his chest from what he was about to do. His body shielded half of yours, and the ongoing touch. His mouth was at your ear. “Really fuckin’ inappropriate.”

[deeversuswords]

“i wouldn’t do that” “i wouldn’t say that” “i wouldn’t wear that” “i wouldn’t kiss them” too bad you pedantic dorks, you’re not the one in control here.

[deeversuswords]

Doing some final edits to chapter 10 of Uncovered, and I'm 700 words in, trying to survive it because I woke up, looked at it, and was like "How can I worsen the tension between these two? I want it to feel hot and suffocating."

Guess who's in a chokehold now with over 3k words to go through.

I mean... (don't 'keep reading' if you don't want a teeny tiny spoiler.)

“You’re a walking contradiction, you know that?” His thumb skimmed your pulse, blunt nail grazing. It raced like a small animal cornered. His own wasn’t much calmer.

“You’re no better.” You sounded breathless. “You claim to hate her, but your actions say otherwise.”

“That somethin’ you should tell a married man?” Katsuki slid off the stool, heart stumbling in his chest from what he was about to do. His body shielded half of yours, and the ongoing touch. His mouth was at your ear. “Really fuckin’ inappropriate.”

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.9

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER SUMMARY — Katsuki’s dinner from hell gets crashed by his own personal devil.

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — ~3.6k

a/n: i looked forward to this day. his pov is finally here \o/

“That woman hates my guts. She’s not even bothering to hide it anymore,” the wife-on-paper snapped, yanking at the seatbelt like the spoiled brat she was. “When are you going to stand up for me, Katsuki?”

Katsuki rested his wrist on the steering wheel, sliding her a sidelong glance.

“I bet she’d throw a party if we divorced.”

“If my old hag goes for it, I’m all in.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” He slammed the gas, the engine mirroring his inner state as the car ripped away from his parents’ driveway. Loud. Snarling. “Hate champagne, but fuck if I wouldn’t pop a bottle with her. What? Thought a few weeks of play actin’ was gonna make this real?”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

"Can't. Livin' in one. Starrin' your crazy ass and my stupid one."

Her head snapped toward him, her icy stare trying to drill holes in the side of his skull. The truth was like acid, for him and her too. One drop and the agony started.

She reached across the console, claws trailing over his thigh.

Katsuki’s grip on the steering wheel turned crushing. “Get your damn hand off me.”

She didn’t. His jaw locked, molars grinding. Angry heat rolled over his skin, sweat bleeding from his pores. Katsuki forced himself to breathe deep, but she was everywhere, and his car suddenly felt like a cage from hell. Smoke started escaping from his palms.

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he growled.

“Be nice,” she purred, fingers creeping higher. “You promised we’d try for Yua, remember?”

Promised? He didn’t have a fucking choice. More so when his lawyers told him to play along while they searched for a solution. If it weren’t for Yua, he would’ve pulled the trigger, gone through with it. Everything he worked for could go straight to hell if it meant being free. He’d take the win disguised as a loss and rebuild it all from scratch.

But he had a kid. Yua needed him. And damn it, he needed her too. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t fail at being her dad. That was unacceptable.

She’d be three soon. Which meant fifteen more years of this hell if his lawyers didn’t come up with something.

Fifteen years, huh?

Grabbing wife-on-paper’s wrist, he threw her hand off his leg, disgusted by her touch. She started whining, bitching, but he tuned her out, mentally withdrawing. Disappearing into that secret place where his fire burned, roared, fed.

Where you also existed. Proof of his sins.

The last time he’d seen you was the night he’d fucked up, looking like a stranger, but something in him still recognized you. And broke the second he realized you’d seen him kissing the last person he should’ve. 

Katsuki didn’t know what the hell possessed him. Public or not, he hadn’t touched wife-on-paper in over a year. She called, asked to meet, and he agreed, deviating from his patrol route, hoping to catch her with something shady. Why else would she be out so late?

What he got instead was a sweet, invasive scent that fogged his brain. It clung to her skin, her hair, her tight black dress. Got him hot. By the time it clicked that something was off, she was kissing him, and his body betrayed him.

Craving the way he did made him stupid. Fooled him that those alcohol-tinted lips were yours. Those cold fingers in his hair were yours. The soft, breathy sounds were yours. 

Until the illusion broke. 

His hands found curves that didn’t match the ones his eyes memorized.

Line by line.

Obsessively.

It was why he jerked back. Why his stomach balled up with nausea. Why his blood froze when he saw you standing there, not far off, lit up by the full moon like divine punishment, tears on your face and dripping to the ground. Resentment blazed bright in your eyes.

What the fuck were you doing there? How? Why?

Just…why?

He wanted answers so badly he nearly forgot wife-on-paper was there and tried to reach you, but she reminded him of her presence, questioning his weird reaction.

“What’s going on? Why are you suddenly acting like this?”

“Nothing.” Katsuki stepped between her and your retreating form. She couldn’t see you. She wasn’t stupid and would link his reaction to you and figure it out. “Go home. Got a patrol to finish.”

She didn’t look convinced, but headed for her car. Katsuki kept pace beside her, body angled like a shield, and only bolted once she vanished around the corner, straight toward where you stood.

He crouched, his gloved fingers brushing over the wet spots dotting the asphalt before snatching the crumpled shirt. The air thickened with that same sweet, invasive scent. Again, Katsuki didn’t resist the pull and inhaled it deep into his lungs. Your scent mingled with it. Intoxicating. Addictive.

Fuck, did it smell good. So good he buried his nose in the fabric, breathing it in like it was the only oxygen left in the world. No thoughts about what it could be or if it was safe. What he was getting high on might as well have been poison.

Each inhale stabbed his pounding heart, but the ache concentrated in his dick. Damn pervert. Damn anomaly. He got hard from smelling your shirt alone, but barely managed a semi from kissing his so-called wife.

Pathetic.

Though, better horny and fooled than confronting reality.

Or so he had thought. His brain couldn’t care less about his feelings and had gone ahead, dissecting every bit of that night, answering some of the questions. 

Wherever wife-on-paper had gone, you were there too. Your fitted, black clothes made it seem like you were out for some late-night walk or jogging, but black and fitted were his go-to for infiltrating places. Adding the disguise on top of it, and boom, he had the overview.

Truth Exposer was on the move.

“Park over there,” wife-on-paper said, pointing ahead as if he were blind. As if his awareness was zero when deep in thought. As if he wasn’t the fucking driver.

Katsuki pulled into the free spot opposite and was out of the car before she was done unbuckling the seat belt, huffing some of the irritation. Shoving both hands into his cargo pants pockets, he clenched the one holding the car key as he glared up at the rooftop restaurant.

Fuck his life.

Then fuck it again because she linked her arm with his, her hand possessively on his bicep.

She forced his steps into a stroll toward the entrance, and he scoffed at her pitiful PR move. People sure had no other hobby than to pull out their phones and snap pictures of them, slapping Dynamight and his wife spotted on a date on it.

Acrid bile coated the back of his throat.

When the hell did it all go so wrong?

The door to his many secrets creaked open. He slammed it shut in an instant, before anything could escape and mock him. He should put one, two, or five locks on it so it stayed shut. Off limits. Otherwise, how was he supposed to fight the noise screaming about who he was, what he’d done, and continued to do?

Katsuki was never a saint, rather someone who fucked up left and right, lately as much as his so-called wife. Maybe worse. He had married her because of Yua, despite checking out of the relationship. The goal was to somehow rekindle the spark, but you entered his life, poured gasoline, and ignited an inferno. Made him a traitor with no remorse.

“Don’t forget our no drinking rule,” wife-on-paper whispered to him as they entered the building. “I can’t drive.”

“You can, but ain’t gonna. Gotta show off to everyone how your husband takes care of you like you’re some fuckin’ queen.”

Her claws pinched into his skin through the sweater. “It benefits you too. God knows you need it.”

The way up to the restaurant was as irksome as he expected. Wife-on-paper gave him yet another pointless lecture about how he had to behave, toss a smile here and there, maybe even show her some affection to make them believable. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and dragged her after him so he could give his name and head for their reserved table.

The place was mostly open air, covered by a straight wooden roof. Copper lights hung from the beams, casting a warm glow over the whiskey-colored furniture. It was packed, as always, but for damn good reason. Summer was almost over, and this was one of the best places to catch the last moments, where the sky felt close, and it felt like being on top of the world.

Too bad his company was shitty.

He kept his strides long, indulging in the uneven sound of her steps with near sadistic pleasure. Leaning down, he spoke close to her ear. “What’s wrong? Can’t keep up?” 

Bitter bile coated his tongue when she gasped, gazing at him from under her mascara-coated lashes. Pale cheeks reddening. Anyone else would’ve been over the moon to have this effect on their partner after years, but he was sickened by it.

“Want me to slow down for you?”

“You wouldn’t.” Her red lips pursed into a pout. “You’re too much of a jerk.”

“Damn right. I’m fuckin’ excellent at it.”

“If only you’d be that excellent as a husband,” she sighed.

Katsuki snorted and halted mid-step, shaking her hand off as he worked a lopsided, empty grin to his face, crowding her space. She served him that blushing face again, licking her lips. One cruel, hostile feeling flared up deep inside him. What the hell? She wasn’t seriously thinking he’d challenge that statement, drag her out of sight, and prove it, was she?

“Ever crossed your mind I never wanted you as my wife?” he asked, voice low and poisoned. “I married you ‘cause I proved Yua was mine. We broke up, remember?”

Her mask crumbled like this fucking caricature of a marriage would one day. Her clawed hand ripped through the air but stopped an inch from his face. Her chin trembled. Rage deepened and glossed her light blue eyes. 

“Smile, wifey.” He leaned into her palm like her touch kept him alive. Two could play the same fucked-up game. “Before they snap a pic and call it trouble in paradise.”

“How fucking dare—”

“Huh? Kacchan?” 

Katsuki’s head snapped to the voice. 

Izuku stood a few steps away, looking between him and wife-on-paper. Next to him–

Shock tore through Katsuki like a raging vortex, ravaging his mask. By his best friend’s side was you, all pretty, soft, and relaxed. Your eyes locked with his, widening slightly as your lips parted. Your lips that wore a subtle shade he wouldn’t have noticed on anyone else, inhaling a quiet, shaky breath he wouldn’t have heard if it were someone else.

His secrets mauled at the locked door.

“Who else?” Katsuki replied, standing up straight, and forced himself to stop staring at you. “Got yourself a date?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Izuku sneaked a timid glance at you. “We’re having dinner as, uh, friends.”

“What a coincidence. We’re here for dinner too. Would you two like to join?” wife-on-paper asked, snatching Katsuki’s attention.

He almost opened his mouth to fuck no the idea, but your voice lulled him into silence.

“I don’t mind. What about you, Midoriya?”

“I’m okay with it, if you are.”

“Well, how can I not be…” You trailed off, roping his focus right back to you. Your lips were temptingly curled into a poised smile. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.” You gestured to both him and wife-on-paper. “Being in the presence of such a power couple does that, I guess. You’re even more stunning in real life, Mrs. Bakugou.”

Fuck. His. Life.

Mrs. Bakugou? He wanted to throw up the protein bar he shoved in for lunch. One of the many—tons—you had gifted him to piss him off. The stash he had left should last until the end of the year, and he hated you for it. Forcing him to rent a place just to store the damn things, and sell the stupid truck because the company refused to take it back.

“Thank you,” wife-on-paper responded, hand to her chest, the other slithering over his forearm. “You look lovely yourself, Miss…”

Extending your hand toward her, you spoke your name in such a smooth, confident tone that it made his spine tingle. But when you shook hands with his so-called wife, the sight went straight to his dick. 

Not his the way he’d want, but the one he risked for. Unreal how easily you eclipsed her. Insane how pride blazed through his veins.

Maybe the night wouldn’t be hell, after all.

*

“How did you two meet?”

Katsuki resisted scoffing at the wife-on-paper’s question. As if she gave a damn, and he, personally, didn’t want to know, didn’t want to listen to the story. 

“Coincidence,” you said, gazing at Izuku, whose face flushed a shade deeper. “We bumped into each other during my night walk.”

On second thought, he wanted to know. 

Wife-on-paper mulled over your answer as she sipped her cocktail. “Isn’t that dangerous? I know I wouldn’t dare go for one. And, well,” her fingers glided over his thigh, “Katsuki wouldn’t allow it. He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Got no problem with that.” He clasped her hand and squeezed it in warning. “But you should probably learn how to kick ass. Want me to sign you up?”

You coughed in your fist and squirmed in your seat, your eyes crinkling a little at the corners. To the other two at the table, it could pass for whatever emotion, but not as what it truly was: provocation. 

Katsuki had claimed the chair opposite yours the second you moved toward one, becoming the sight you couldn’t escape. Something must’ve been on his side today; the draped tablecloth was long, covering everyone’s legs. Hiding the truth beneath it.

His leg willingly trapped itself between yours, tensing when your knee knocked against it, or your shoe nudged at his calf. The sensation fed his delusional hope.

“Why, when I have Dynamight himself at my side?” wife-on-paper scooted closer to him, moving her hand to his shoulder, squeezing it in sick affection.

Your delicate laugh filled the air, and it might just be his favorite sound after your voice. “You two are so cute. But to answer your question, Mrs. Bakugou,” you dragged your ankle up his calf. “It’s dangerous, but what do I have to fear? If something were to happen, it will. Plus, I’m confident in my ability to defend myself.”

Katsuki froze like a statue in his seat, his whole body stiffening as he fought the pinpricks of desire. He only had himself to blame. He got himself in this position. He should’ve known better, considering the shared history. From that first post-it you had sent him, it was obvious one part of you lived to piss him off.

But pissing him off wasn’t what you were doing right now.

Teasing.

You were teasing the crazy out of him, and it was working. He wanted to play this game with you so bad, he wished Izuku and wife-on-paper disappeared. He wanted to reach under the table, clasp your ankle—

Shit.

“She can pack quite the punch,” Izuku joined in with praise. “My jaw ached for a few days.”

Katsuki’s brows raised. “You punched this dumbass?” he asked, addressing you directly for the first time since this dinner had started.

“It was my fault,” Izuku responded instead, making his eye twitch. “I should’ve verbally insisted more.”

“Impressive. You must be quite special to catch Midoriya by surprise,” wife-on-paper gave her irrelevant opinion. “Is it your quirk or skill?”

Since when did she care about quirks?

Curiosity spun in his gut like a pinwheel, fanning both his want and the brutal conflict warring within him. You’d lie about it, Katsuki bet. Accessing quirk information about someone was a pain in the ass for a pro hero, let alone a civilian. He waited weeks after submitting his request.

“They called it hyper intuition. Pretty self-explanatory, I guess.”

Izuku’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he grasped your elbow. “That sounds cool. Is it always active?”

The war inside took a turn…for the worse. Something despicable plucked at his nerves, making his anger bubble up like lava. Katsuki snatched the soda glass off the table and gulped it down.

“Sort of. It’s hard to explain.” Your voice sounded somehow different as you explained to his best friend about your fake quirk. Warmer. Sweeter. “Imagine that feeling in your gut, but way more intense. The first time it happened, I felt sick.”

Izuku nodded, moving closer to you. “The intensity. Is it something you can adju—”

“Oi, Izuku,” Katsuki intruded, his tone opposite yours. “Quit nerdin’ out before you scare her away.”

He knew how much of an asshole he was right now, potentially sabotaging Izuku’s confidence to pursue something with you. But that was the problem—you. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t give a damn. He’d go as far as playing Cupid for his best friend without batting an eye.

Helping Izuku get with you? Not a chance in heaven or hell.

He wasn’t blind to the existing interest, at least from his best friend’s side. Hard to tell if you were on that same page when you’d been exchanging body heat with him under the table.

He tracked Izuku’s withdrawing hand, glaring at it like it was responsible for his shitty situation, his impossible desires, his troublesome feelings. That hand had done nothing wrong or out of the ordinary, its gesture harmless, friendly, but in his plagued mind, it was on you. 

Touching. 

Grabbing. 

Learning.

His fingers clutched the empty glass to the point of shattering as his leg pushed against yours, forcing it to open wider. 

“I should.” Izuku let out a short, awkward laugh. He gave you an apologetic bow. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

The stern glare you shot Katsuki plunged deep into the ugliness he felt before you poured acid on it by offering Izuku a smile that was too honest. Something you had never shown him, and probably never would.

“You haven’t. It’s natural to be curious, and if you ask me, I think it’s healthy to be,” you said. “When curiosity is gone, what’s left?”

Katsuki tore his attention away from you, focusing on the city sprawling far and wide. The lights were dimmer, the sounds muter, the night air colder, the reality crappier. 

It…fucking hurt.

He wasn’t supposed to fight, to throw internal tantrums that bled outside, but accept it for what it was—impossible. You were the impossibility he gravitated toward. His fever dream meant to end. The one person who could make the cat-and-mouse interesting. You hunted him even when he chased you, but slipped off the radar like prey whenever he closed in, restarting the game to repeat it.

And repeat.

And repeat.

And fucking repeat. Over and over. Again and again. 

Saw you on TV. You look like crap. Need a distraction, or maybe, a way out? I can make it happen. 

He dug his fingers into the edge of the table until his knuckles strained. Why the hell was he remembering that? That stupid message you had sent him weeks ago from an untraceable number while he was stuck at some charity party, courtesy of wife-on-paper. Message he had deleted from existence before he was tempted to answer, a mistake he’d made and never learned from.

Moments of weakness were the norm with you. Moments he let himself believe you risked for something other than provoking him. Like…the man behind the hero.

“Your order is here,” the waiter announced, pushing a metal cart toward the table.

Exactly what Katsuki needed to distract himself—forcing food down his throat. Not a night from hell? The joke was on him. This was ripped out of his own personal hell. The kind that dragged painfully slow to torture him, to let him stew in an agony of his making.

Katsuki dismissed any attempts at conversation from wife-on-paper and Izuku with a grunt or an unimpressed stare, his mood at rock bottom, rotting. Not even the perfectly cooked medium rare steak he usually enjoyed could erase the bitter taste on his tongue. Eventually, he withdrew his leg, leaving you alone. Your indifference strangled his heart.

You were too busy giving Izuku the time of day. Maybe the time of night afterward? With that attitude of yours, you’d have no problem convincing a guy to take you to his place. Strip you naked and—

Katsuki shoved away from the table and stood up, the chair scraping the stone floor. “We’re takin’ a cab,” he snapped at wife-on-paper. “Need a damn drink.”

“Wha—Katsuki?”

Two steps. Two goddamn steps was all he managed before you stopped him, the sound of your voice making his hands fist inside his pockets.

“Mind if I come with you?”

“I can get you one, if you’d like,” Izuku, ever the gentleman, intervened.

“I appreciate it, Midoriya, but I got it.” You rose from the chair. “Should I get you something?”

“No. I’m alright. Th—”

“Hurry up,” Katsuki bit out, his patience gone.

“Patience isn't your strong suit?” you muttered as you brushed past him, head held high.

His jaw clenched, and the urge to yank you back and tell you all about his damn patience had his legs filling with lead. How were you doing this? How were you able to pretend you didn’t know him? How could you be so calm around him when he wanted to slam his fists on the table and compromise both of you?

Pausing, you locked eyes with him over your shoulder. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“Hurry up then.”

You were the reason he, one day, would go batshit crazy.

Deserved.

taglist: @lunaryasha | @tomiokasecretlover | @fiselle | @5oftkitty

[deeversuswords]

It's missing Kacchan hours.

[deeversuswords]

New Bakugou sketch posted by animator Yo Iwamoto

[deeversuswords]

New Horikoshi illustration for a collaboration with Men’s Non-No

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.8

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER SUMMARY — You discuss your future steps with Ayumu when you get an unexpected call.

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — ~3.4k

a/n: katsuki and his sleeveless turtleneck have been distracting me the whole day once again. send help.

The midday sun kissed your skin as you slouched into the balcony couch, scrolling through social media, the sour twist of your mouth deepening.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep making that face.” 

Ayumu placed a steaming cup of cappuccino on the small table and dropped onto the couch beside you, cradling his own.

You scrolled faster. Picture after picture. Article after article. Video after video. Everyone and their mothers had been gushing for the last two weeks about the power couple of the moment—Bakugou Katsuki and his villain of a wife. 

The whole circus started when she posted a picture of her new gold ring, flaunting a ruby the size of your anger. The caption blabbered about her profound gratitude for her husband and their never-ending, burning love.

After that, if she wasn’t spotted skipping into his agency with a flawless smile and a cute lunch bag, she was photographed blushing like a schoolgirl on a date that looked about as exciting as listening to someone talk when you already knew exactly what they were going to say. She actively redefined boredom.

And because no kitsch couple show was complete without equal effort, the starving paparazzi made sure to stalk Bakugou too and snap a couple of shots of him shopping in high-end stores, swiping his card with the blankest face in existence. Which worsened your confusion.

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone to the side. “Pisses me off.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell him?” Ayumu asked as you reached for the cup and brought it to your lips.

“No. I can’t. Guilty or not, it’s too risky, and I don’t even have a proper plan yet.” You blew on the cappuccino to slightly cool it, then took a cautious sip. Vanilla—still Ayumu’s favorite after all these years—sweetened your tongue on its way down. “Did you find out what I asked you to?”

Ayumu nodded and drank from his cup, unbothered by the temperature, a foamy mustache forming on his upper lip, one you immediately pointed at, laughing at how goofy he looked.

He delivered a light kick to your leg as he wiped his mouth. “Bakugou’s chances of getting full custody of Yua are close to zero. Joint custody is possible, but even that could be denied if his wife is really out to ruin him.”

“Because of his job?”

“Partly.” Another sip. “She could argue Yua’s not safe with him. What if duty calls in the middle of the night? What about the villains he’s put away? Some of them might want revenge. Plus, his occasional angry public outbursts aren’t helping. She could even claim her life was at risk just by being with him. I mean, a relationship with a pro hero isn’t exactly safe.” He paused, staring into his cup like it showed him the future. “His situation is…seriously messed up.”

“So if he wants out, he has to choose between his job and his daughter?”

“Something like that.” His eyes met yours. “If the rules are followed. If they’re not, well…all that can change. In his favor.”

You considered him for a few beats of knowing silence before you focused on the fizzing foam of your cappuccino. Ayumu alluded to the only viable solution as of now, but as much as you wanted to lean that way, you couldn’t allow yourself to. 

Bakugou was a suspect. Until you proved otherwise, even if it broke something in your heart, you had no other choice but to perceive him like that. This wasn’t just about him, but about the people you’d seen, too.

“He’d win. It wouldn’t be clean, but he’d win,” you concluded with a weary sigh, head falling against the backrest, eyes closing to savor the gentle nip of fading summer.

“If Truth Exposer said it, then it must be true.”

A faint smile touched your vanilla-tinted lips. That phrase irritated and filled you with a strange sense of pride at the same time.

“He wouldn’t be able to submit whatever evidence you give him, but he wouldn’t need to if everyone knew what his wife is involved in. Public outcry would make the authorities think twice.” His empty laugh rang through the air. “Justice is blind, they say. What a fucking joke.”

“It is blind, Ayumu. When the cash is stacked high, the influence runs deep like roots, and,” you drank the rest of your cappuccino in one gulp, “the lie is sold as truth.”

His hand found your knee and squeezed it, his touch comforting as your mind inevitably leaped into the past. Bad habits were hard to shake off when the reasons to wage war against them were minimal. Quick to get in the way of moving forward, but quicker to wrench you backward in the throes of haunting grief and thorny suffering.

The future stayed blurred, distant, out of reach compared to the clear, loud past, whose jagged teeth gnawed at your jugular.

Years since your parents had died, and the moments of injustice continued to reign in the dark corners of your mind. You could vividly relive it still, like it was yesterday, the stale office air, the frustrating anger making your hands shake, your nostrils flaring as you resisted the deep-seated urge to strangle the licensed building inspector.

He had reeked of indifference as he had reclined in his leather seat, elbow propped on the armrest, thick fingers tapping on his temple. You had been his biggest headache of the day, but had you cared? Absolutely not. Your compassion hit rock bottom when he kept selling you the same bullshit narrative you knew to be false.

“Miss, please. The reports clearly state, in black and white, that during each verification everything was in order.”

“I’m aware, but do tell me, Inspector, how did you write those reports if you never—”

“By law, we’re obligated to verify structural integrity annually. Are you implying I fabricated the documents?”

“No. I’m simply addressing you a common sense que—”

“These are the official records of every inspection since the building was constructed. Signed. Stamped. Filed,” he interrupted you for the second time, slapping a hand over the stack of thick files piled up on his imposing desk. “I’ve got less than an hour left on the clock, but you’re welcome to flip through them, Miss. See the facts with your own eyes. They’re alright, I hope. They seem a bit red.”

Your hands clenched into tight fists before they slammed down on his desk. You didn’t need to check a damn thing. The records were pristine, which was why they could afford to lie that it was a tragic accident, that the building’s structural integrity had deteriorated faster due to external circumstances like combat and quirks being used nearby.

If someone had reported there being problems with the building, it would’ve been fixed immediately, but since no one did, it led to this terrible, terrible accident.

“The building gave way from the inside,” you gritted through your teeth. “The people living there had reported the deep cracks on numerous occasions, but—”

“Are you an architect, Miss?”

“I don’t need to be one. I saw the aftermath, and I have enough common sense to understand that the planning was poorly done from the start. How else do you explain the layers of rust on the skeleton?”

He shot to his feet, going red in the face as he planted his hands flat on the desk and leaned in, trying to intimidate you. “It was the rainy season when this accident happened.”

“Do you know what can rust in a matter of hours and fit your claim?” you asked, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “Iron, Inspector. Plain iron. So if you say the steel frame was perfect before the collapse but rusted from the rain afterward, that wasn’t a steel frame, was it?”

His jaw ticked. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I understand you’re a victim too, grieving your loss, but I’m not obligated to listen to your unfounded accusations, especially when it seems you’re,” his dark eyes flickered to your journalist badge hanging from your neck, “just looking for a story.”

The urge to grab this condescending prick by the collar surged hotly through your veins. 

“Before I’m a journalist,” you snapped, “I’m the daughter of two people crushed beneath the building you deemed perfectly safe. The only story I want is the truth, but I’m starting to doubt I’ll get it. You people are a tight-knit group, aren’t you?”

A dark glint flashed in his annoyed gaze as if to confirm your underhanded accusation. 

“Sleep well while you still can, Inspector. Even if I have to dig out the truth with my bare hands, I will. This won’t slide.” You pushed away from the desk. “I’m looking forward to your rundown of the remote inspection process you seem to favor. Quite innovative, really. Who knows, you might even help ease the workload for your peers.”

You reached the door when he asked, “Is that a threat I hear, Miss?” Something in his voice plunged a blade of dread into your back, forcing your spine to go rigid.

“The definition of a threat, Inspector, is the possibility of something bad happening, not a certainty. Have a wonderful evening.”

You had left that man’s office burning with rotten fury, but also with one crystal-clear truth: no price would be too high to get them justice. Not even your own life.

Maybe it was that point in time when the seeds of your vigilantism had first taken root.

“My word,” you said, turning to face Ayumu fully. “Do you think it’ll hold against what and who we’re up against?”

His fingers curled gently over yours. “I’m more worried about this spiraling,” he admitted. “About you losing control over it and me not being able to protect you.” His sincerity gripped your heart. “We’re talking about a well-organized trafficking ring, sweetheart. Something like this doesn’t fly under the radar without smart, powerful people backing it.”

“We have no proof, Ayumu. None,” you reminded him of your failure to gather evidence. Something in there had shut down your burner and kept it that way, likely an EMP. “Tipping anyone off would do more harm than good. The police have procedures to follow, especially if heroes are involved.”

“And there’s always a risk of a leak. Whoever’s running this won’t wait around,” he said, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he massaged the tension between his brows. “They’ll pack up, vanish. Change locations, change methods. And all those people…they’d be lost. We’d be back at square one.”

“We have one shot at this.”

“I think so too, but are you gonna be okay?”

“Sakai Ayumu.” You smacked your hands over his cheeks, and he straightened instantly at the full-name treatment. “What’s my secret philosophy?”

“Never gamble to lose. Only to win.”

You grinned proudly and pinched his skin affectionately, then jumped up, lifting your arms to stretch. “We can always bring in the police or the heroes if we have to.” Each pop of your joints and the burn in your muscles melted some of the tension. “For now, we keep it hush-hush and do what we always do.”

“Break the law,” he said with a carefree laugh, following you to the railing. A breeze caught in his copper strands. “What about Bakugou, though?”

“What about him?”

“Are you gonna expose him if he’s guilty?”

Your eyes drifted to the watery horizon in the far distance. “Yeah. No exceptions.”

“And if he’s not?”

The clear sky blurred with the glittering ocean, two shades of blue blending into one, yet their nuances remained distinct, unique. Like you and him. Similar, but different in ways that felt more like completion than opposition.

“His truth won’t be buried,” you said from the mind, not the heart. Your heart was too much of a masochist, hurting unnecessarily, caring too much. “No matter what.”

Ayumu’s arm went around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You leaned into him, returning the embrace with a sincere smile, melting into his warmth. Who said a friend’s love couldn’t run just as deep, just as meaningful as any other? Life without him…was inconceivable.

“Wanna travel the world once we solve this?” he asked out of nowhere. “Truth Exposer deserves holidays too. Real holidays.”

Holidays?

You’d never really had any. Never gone somewhere just to relax and enjoy. Wherever you went, you went with a purpose.

“Hmm, sure?” You gazed at his profile, snorting at his sneaky side-eye. “Yeah. Let’s do that. Who knows, maybe we end up breaking laws in some other countries too.”

“Sweetheart, no!” He whined, and you threw your head back, letting out a hearty laugh.

Your joy was cut short when your phone rang, replaced by wariness as you picked up from between the cushions and saw the unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

The caller’s voice had your jaw drop. “Hi. Um, it’s Deku. The guy you punched at the beach a few weeks ago? Sorry for calling out of the blue, but the animal shelter gave me your number to talk about the cat we brought in. Is this a good time?”

Ayumu shuffled closer, pressing his ear to the phone. You elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a warning glare. He backed off, out of your personal space, returning to lean against the railing. Watching you.

“Yeah. Sure. Are you adopting her?”

Deku’s easy laugh tickled your ears. “Not me. My life is too hectic, but not my mom’s. She wants to take care of her.” 

“How come?”

“Let’s just say telling her the story ended with me showing her the picture I took. She melted instantly,” he said, then muttered so quickly it almost sounded like a glitch in the speaker. “Something about it being a lucky sign because I met you, too.”

Your breath hitched loudly. “Sorry. Hiccup,” you lied. “That’s…I’m happy to hear, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

He cleared his throat. “This call was supposed to come from one of the staff, but I insisted on doing it since we’re kind of acquainted. Hope I didn’t cross any boundaries. If I did, I apologize, and I’ll just—”

“It’s alright,” you gently interrupted. He sounded so flustered you wouldn’t be surprised if his face were beet red. “They would’ve put me in contact with you anyway, per my request. This way, we skipped a step.”

“Yes. That we did.” He let out a relieved sigh, and your teeth tugged at your lip. There was something oddly endearing about how nervous he was. “Are you free this week? Preferably in the evening.”

“Hmm…” You needed some air, to see something other than your apartment. Spending time with Deku didn’t sound too bad. “I’d be free tonight.”

On the other end of the line, he paused a beat before his breath flowed into the speaker. “Would seven work for you?”

*

The bench outside the animal shelter was surprisingly comfortable, though it did little to ease your growing restlessness. Elbows digging into your thighs, you rested your chin on your interlaced fingers and pursed your lips. With the meeting hour approaching, your stomach stewed in anxiety.

“Damn you, Ayumu,” you grumbled. Your best friend couldn’t have been more of a hypocrite in the span of a few minutes.

After the call with Deku, he had paled and delivered a speech on the dangers of becoming friendly with a pro hero, yet in the same breath, he squeaked like a rat seeing cheese, jittery with enthusiasm, exclaiming, “You’re about to meet up with a hot guy!”

Somehow, Deku being Bakugou’s friend or that he was a pro hero too didn’t matter anymore, but as Ayumu so nicely put it, you needed yum in your life, and Deku was undeniably yum. 

He was, in his own way, but—

“I’m sorry for running late. Traffic was awful.”

Your gaze lifted to see the man of the hour stopping in front of you, panting lightly, car keys dangling from his scarred fingers. Not a sports car, but something common. Safe.

“Did you wait long?” he asked, as you continued piecing together the last hour of his life.

The sleeves of his white dress shirt were messily rolled, the rest buttoned to his throat and stuffed into the waistband of his black formal pants. His leather belt was twisted once in the loops, making your eye twitch. Deku had hurried.

“No, not at all,” you replied, noticing the post-workout swell of his muscles and the sweat glinting at his temples and hairline. Deku had hurried…from the gym. “Let’s go?”

You stood, legs weakening a fraction as the mix of cologne and his natural scent drifted into your nose. For a moment, you too forgot who he really was.

“Actually, mind if we stay here five more minutes?” Deku asked, sitting down. His voice was like fine sand all of a sudden. “I want to try convincing you to let me pay instead.”

“What? For real?”

He nodded, the quick, determined movement drawing your attention to his hair. Under the guise of twilight, the green looked muted, dark, but the viridian of his eyes kept the real color alive, highlighted.

“No. I said I’ll pay, so I’m paying. I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“Let me at least try?” Those same eyes pleaded with you as his fingers tapped twice on the bench.

“Why?”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” he said as you returned to your seat on the bench. “There’s one more thing. The lady who gave me your number mentioned your name, and I realized I never introduced myself properly. Not that night. Not on the phone. His hand left his knee to give itself to you. “Midoriya Izuku.”

You couldn’t resist a small smile as you slipped your hand into his, calloused fingers closing over it and shaking. The gesture was careful, gentle, as if you were the definition of fragile, and your body tensed, unaccustomed to the feeling. Not even you were this kind to yourself, and De—Midoriya was making you feel guilty for it.

As you held his hand a little bit tighter and a little bit longer, you entrusted him with your name.

Red dusted his freckled cheeks, but the smile he offered reached his eyes and snuck into your heart like light within forgotten, worn-down walls. This was normalcy. This was what your life would’ve probably looked like if it were different. Meeting new people, telling them your name without risking, connecting and sharing experiences.

“Is there really no way you’d let me? I mean, it’s my mom adopting her, so it’s only fair I cover everything,” he said, letting go of your hand, and you wished he hadn’t.

“No. You’ll have to deal with me paying.” Was your voice always this soft? This small?

“Then, can I make it up to you in some other way?”

“You don’t have to. It’s alright. I’m glad I can help.”

His blush deepened. “How about d-dinner? As a thank you.”

He’d taken you “home” as an apology for you punching him, when he really should’ve just gotten away from you, and now he wanted to take you to dinner as thanks for sticking to your word? What even was this logic?

He was giving you a headache.

You were about to respond when his eyes suddenly opened comically wide. Midoriya sprang up, waving his hands as he stepped back politely.

“Maybe not? Would that be appropriate?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble with…with your partner.”

“Partner?” You ended up trailing off as his eyes stole a glance at your neck, the bruise long gone. “I’m single. Uncommitted.”

A smack to your head would be divine right now. What were you doing telling him that?

“Would you like to have dinner with me then?” Midoriya reiterated his invitation, each syllable clear, confident, composed. Even the rosiness in his cheeks lost saturation.

You’d be the worst liar, an amateur pretender, if you tried to ignore the loud way your heart thumped in your ears. Never in your life had you been this thrown off by someone switching gears this fast.

“You’re choosing the place.” You rose from the bench and prowled the short distance to him. A spark of intrigue curled your lips. “Surprise me, Midoriya.”

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[deeversuswords]

Ahem...

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A gremlin Katsuki just dropped.

Higher quality Katsuki from the Ultra Artworks panorama