#but asleep bkg doesn’t

[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[satorusdiary]

bkg headcannons ❤︎︎

Katsuki Bakugou who is harsh with you when you first meet. But once he notices how you don’t push him away, he starts warming up to you more.

Katsuki Bakugou who doesn’t consider you as an extra, instead he considers you has a close friend with a lot of potential for themselves and their future.

Katsuki Bakugou who pays for your food, or brings you home made food he prepared before he left home.

Katsuki Bakugou who secretly blushes and clenches his jaw when you make a silly joke, he shoves you off acting like he’s annoyed. In reality, he is hoping you make more jokes to lighten up his day.

Katsuki Bakugou who welcomes you with open arms when you come to his house late at night, complaining how you were lonely and had a nightmare. He doesn’t a notice how much his heart is beating until he falls asleep with you cuddled against him like a koala.

Katsuki Bakugou who cries in your arms after getting kidnapped, and blaming himself for being the reason for Allmights failure.

Katsuki Bakugou who kisses you on the forehead, and on your nose after you comfort him, noticing your teary eyes after watching him break down.

Katsuki Bakugou who helps you move into your dorm room.

Katsuki Bakugou who confesses to you first. It happened during valentine’s day when you gave him homemade chocolate covered strawberry’s, with small doodles of his hero costume.

Katsuki Bakugou who keeps your relationship a secret for a few weeks, but then gets caught when his classmates see him kissing you on your lips on the couch. You both had thought everyone was gone and made their own plans.

Katsuki Bakugou who threatens anyone who tries to interfere with his relationship.

Katsuki Bakugou who isn’t a fan of PDA, but is willing to have his arm around your waist just for you. And so boys would stop eye-fucking you from a distance.

Katsuki Bakugou who has you pinned on his phone.

Katsuki Bakugou who ruins his sleep schedule, just to help you understand a problem you didn’t understand during class.

Katsuki Bakugou who lets out genuine smiles around you.

Katsuki Bakugou who has hundreds of poloroids of you and him, mainly you in his wallet, behind his phone case, and on his home bedroom walls.

Katsuki Bakugou who is annoyed when his friends tease him about how he acts around you, denying it. Only for you to walk into the room with a cheeky smile, making his annoyed expression soften.

“Bakugou. just admit it! You’re hooked towards y/n.” The blonde boy’s closest friend Kirishima coo’s, poking at his side only for Katsuki to not have a reaction towards it.

After many pokes, Katsuki gets fed up and harshly smacks away Kirishimas finger.

“Shut the fuck up! ‘m not hooked, and stay out me and my girls buisness.” Katsuki grits his teeth, turning away from his group of friends to continue doing homework.

Denki rolls his eyes, letting out an sigh. He puts his hand on his friends shoulder with a bored expression.

“That’s a lie! You were just all up on her a few hours ago in the study room!” Denki exclaims, recalling the memory of him and his friends walking in on you on Katsukis lap whilst reading a book.

This time Katsuki ignores both of his nosey friends, only rolling his eyes and solving the problems in-front of him with no problems.

The group thinks about leaving their angry headed friend alone for the day, until you step in the room with a big smile and a bag full of clothing. Eyes are on you waiting on your move as you walk towards your boyfriend who notices your presence almost immediately.

“Katsuu, what’cha doin?” You coo’ed wrapping your arms around your boyfriend who stops paying attention to his homework for once. His group of friends watching the couple in shock, and in awe. Long forgetton towards him.

“Hey sweets. ��m doin homework, do ya need help with it?” He questions, the kiss he leaves on your cheek not being hesitantly placed.

You nodded your head. Honestly, you didn’t really need help with homework. The thought of just being around him was what really mattered to you the most.

“mhmm, can you help me now? if it’s okay with you.” You muttered, eyeing the elevator signaling to him that you wanted to go into his dorm room.

Even if it wasn’t allowed, he always made sure you would end up in his dorm room by the end of the day. He is a good boyfriend, isn’t he?

“Yeah, sure baby.” He slightly mumbled the pet name, packing up his stuff and ignoring the protests coming from his friends.

As soon as you both leave and make your way into Katsuki’s dorm room, the group begins giggling and mocking Katsukis past words.

“Oh-Oh! I’m not hooked on y/n! Lay off my relationship blah blah blah!” Mina mimicked , making the other guys laugh at her expressions.

What they didn’t know was that you both didn’t take the elevator, instead you took the stares and was able to hear his friends just before you made it to the second floor.

Katsuki was furious and embarrassed, but with a simple move that you made with holding his hand and rubbing the sole of his fist made him calm down.

“..Fuckers. Never mind them, y’want give me a haul of your clothes first before we do homework n/n?” His expression calmed down and his hand made his way to carry your bags.

Your smile increases and you begin nodding your head furiously from excitement, katsuki chuckles and kisses you on the lips before dragging you to his dorm room.

You never remembered the last time you actually spent a full night in your own dorm without sneaking out to go into Katsukis.

Katsuki Bakugou who spars with you, simply kissing you sweetly if you ever lose to him. Kissing him is better than winning anyways.

Katsuki Bakugou who gets annoyed by his mother who keeps begging him to invite you over to their home again. Mitsuki and Masaru are very excited to meet the angel who is bringing out the softness from their son.

Katsuki Bakugou who cuddles your nightmares away, having a hand tightly wrapped around your waist while the other cradles your cheek. His usually rough voice whispering sweet words into your ears, hoping it is enough to soothe away your nightmares.

Katsuki Bakugou whose life goal was to be the number 1 hero, but also has another goal in marrying you, having kids with you, and growing old with you until forever.

[shdo-xplosion]

PART ONE: STOCK

☼masterlist☼

warnings: captivity, restraints, briefly mentioned medical procedure (no detail), reader sees kendou in a scary situation, mentioned milking, mentioned forced pregnancy. 1.4k

notes: hiii! (◍•ᴗ•◍) was originally going to try to make all the parts really long and have less of them, but i changed my mind. i would rather have shorter chapters more often. hopefully it works out and everyone likes it ( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ(also I promise bkg shows up in the next part!!!!)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13

let me know if you would like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

Pain. All you feel is pain when you begin to wake. It’s in your head, in your chest, in your arms and legs, your guts.

Everything is blurry when you blink your eyes open, like some kind of film is covering them. Shadows move over you, but you aren’t able to make any of them out. Your foggy brain whispers to you, not safe, but when you try to move, you can’t, arms and legs locked in place.

It smells like something is burning, and you hope to whatever divine being exists that it isn’t you, but the prayer doesn’t last long as one of the figures looms closer, giving you the chance to see 2 red eyes before it raises a hand and expels some sort of powdery agent in your face.

Your world disappears again.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Coming to is a process. You doze in and out of a purgatory-like state for what could be anywhere from minutes to millennia, but once you’re fully awake, you are awake.

Your brain starts moving incredibly fast as you glance around. Unfamiliar surroundings, strange lighting. You can move your head and most of your upper body, but your hands are loosely restrained and your legs are firmly held in place by some kind of contraption. Off of the ground, some kind of table. You can feel the smooth surface on your bare back, like some type of metal, but it isn’t cold. In fact, the whole area is rather warm, one notch from uncomfortable.

There are various mechanisms attached to you, possibly monitors. A band around your head, something collar-esque around your neck, and you think you feel a mass in your ear.

Stretched across your chest is… you can’t tell if it’s another device or if it’s a garment. It might be both, especially considering how it’s perfectly fitted to your tits. The more you focus on it the more you can feel movement, little balls on little tracks that travel over your flesh in a strange sort of massage, gently but obviously kneading the plump tissue of your breasts. You go cross eyed staring down at it, eyebrows pinched in confusion as you try to examine the two tubes that sit right over your nipples.

You start growing faint as things click into place one by one. The creatures of this planet weren’t trying to kill you when they put you in that room. They just wanted to incapacitate you so they could get you in this position, and this position…

Arms by your side, legs held open… one word crosses your mind: breed.

They brought you here to breed you.

“K-Kendou!” Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you try to scream for your captain. You know there’s no point. You don’t see her anywhere in the room, but it’s all you can do for yourself.

What happened to her? To the rest of the crew? Did they take her hands? Did they rip Shinsou’s mask from his face? If they did, he would have had to be asleep for it. You’ve known the linguist for several years and never once have you seen him without the mod that covers his lower face. They would have taken all of Monoma’s weapons and Tetsu’s armor.

What have they taken from you so far? What have they already done to you? You vaguely remember a… surgery? Yes, a surgery. The burning smell. Nausea swirls in your stomach again. What did they take out of you? Or worse, what did they put in you?

“Kendou!” you try again. “Shinsou!”

Your voice dies in your own ears. All you can do is weep and tremble as you imagine all the horrible things that await you.

You’ve left your home planet. Said goodbye to your closest loved ones. Traveled into deep space. But you have never known fear like this before. You’re used to the fear that makes your mouth go dry and shoots you full of adrenaline, fear that gets your heart racing.

This fear isn’t like that. It weighs you down and fills the hollows of your bones. This fear makes you want to give up before even trying to fight.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The alien you remember as the leader is the first you see. It glides into the room, sparing you a single glance and ignoring the way you begin to thrash against your restraints.

“Motherfucker, let me out! Let me out!”

It doesn’t seem fazed by your shrieking, just goes about checking a few things around the room, standing in one of your many blind spots. Odd sounds ring out behind you, clicking and hissing and distorted beeping. You wonder if there’s more machinery you can’t see, question answered when the confines around your wrists tighten without any touch from the alien. There must be some kind of control panel behind you, buttons and screens that control your fate.

“Kendou! Where is Kendou?” you shout.

Pacing back into your line of vision, the alien tilts its head. The hair-like strands that frame its face are long and dark, a little unkempt, and it looks to be missing its right eye, a thick, ghastly scar in its place.

Reaching up, the creature touches its ear then motions at you with its huge hand, almost like it… wants you to speak again?

“K-Kendou?” you try. “My captain. The other female.”

You’re probably deluding yourself into thinking it understands, but then you hear a faint crackle in your ear, and the mass you noticed earlier suddenly makes sense as the alien begins speaking and you actually comprehend what it’s saying.

The words you hear don’t match up with its mouth, and you can still make out the harsh grunts of its native tongue. Very guttural and heavy on what you know as consonants, but whatever device that’s been placed in your ear translates it all for you.

Alive. In another pod. Would you like to see her?

“Yes!”

Your stupid little pea brain hoped that meant being freed and allowed to find her. Ridiculous. Instead the alien raises an arm, a holographic image popping up over it. You squint at it despite the picture being perfectly clear and see Kendou in a predicament much like your own except… worse.

As you assumed, her bionic parts are nowhere to be seen, her natural hands limp and weak and shriveled as they always have been. She’s locked onto the same table as you, tied at the arms, legs spread, chest covered. The difference is that she is in use.

Longer tubes are connected to her chest, spiraling out of view, but what you can see of them are white save for the occasional air bubble that travels along.

“Jesus Fucking…” your stomach churns dangerously. She’s being milked.

Even worse than that is the thing between her legs. You have no earthly idea what it is, a jointed pole with something on the end that’s level with her pelvis, and you can only see so much of it because the rest is inside of her, almost as if it’s plugging her up.

And, it just might be because she is unnaturally, disgustingly full. Tears roll down your cheeks as you stare at how swollen her stomach is.

How long have you been here now? How long were you unconscious? It looks like she’s several months pregnant already, though not with a human child. There’s something else inside of her, some kind of parasite that they put there, and it could be growing very, very fast.

“m’gonna throw up,” you blurt, shoulders beginning to roll as you heave.

It’s too much. This is too much. You’re nothing more than cattle to these creatures. And for what? Why would they want to blend species?

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you feel the muscles in your stomach contracting—your stomach that will soon be bulging with a monster’s spawn—but before you can actually purge, the alien above you places a hand on your belly and all of the nausea disappears.

You have no idea what these aliens are capable of, how much power they have, but from what you’ve seen you already know that you don’t stand a chance.

2023©️shidou-x. please do not plagiarize or report my work to any other platforms.

[dazed-diary]

sugar, spice, and everything nice

summary: you decide to bake brownies in the middle of the night, bakugou just wants a glass of water, the two of you have a conversation

bkg x gn!reader - wc: 3.5k

warnings: just some cursing here and there, that's all!

“Ah, shit.”

You let out a curse under your breath, already moving to get a spoon to retrieve the piece of eggshell that had managed to escape into the batter. With slow and careful movements, you guided the spoon up the inside of the bowl while balancing the frivolous escapee that was threatening to slip back into the batter on the tip.

It was the middle of a Thursday night and the U.A. dorms were asleep, the students being exhausted after the recent spike in villain activities. It was understandable, being tired with everything that was going on, although for some reason, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep at all, seemingly too much on your mind. After alternating between tossing and turning in your bed and mindlessly staring at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours – a look at the time told you it actually had been hours – the urge to bake brownies had inexplicably taken a hold of you. 

For a moment you had just laid there, weighing the pros and cons of a spontaneous past-curfew, definitely-against-the-rules trip to the dorm kitchen for a midnight baking-session, when, after a couple seconds of inner debate, you had decided to just go through with it, throwing the covers off of yourself with a quiet “fuck it”. 

Now you were here, in the kitchen, trying really hard not to make a sound in order to not wake any others – you had even resolved to mixing everything with a whisk instead of a hand mixer, even though an annoying voice at the back of your head was telling you that the bedrooms were too far from the kitchen for anybody to hear you, anyways. 

Nevertheless, now you were dedicated to see this through to the end and continued on whisking away. Once you were satisfied with the look of the batter, you moved on to measure the flour, when, all of a sudden, the ceiling lights of the kitchen turned on, startling you. Originally, you had only turned on the small light above the stove in order not to draw attention from outside, even resorting to your phone flashlight to find the ingredients you needed in the cupboards, so the bright lights from above were a little blinding.

“What the-“, disoriented, you shielded your eyes and turned around to the direction of where you thought the light switches were, trying to identify whoever had busted your little baking session. Still blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness, you expected Mr. Aizawa to be standing in the doorway, ready to give you a lecture. However, you were proven wrong as a gruff voice that definitely did not belong to your sensei cut through the silence.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Bakugou Katsuki stood at the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, both in black, and looking at you as if you had just grown a second head or something.After recovering from the initial shock (and relief at not receiving detention for your stupid idea), you tried to think of a reasonable way to justify still being up.

“Uhhh…”, you said dumbly, trying to think of an explanation that wasn’t just ‘I couldn’t sleep so I did what any sensible person would do and started baking brownies in the middle of the night in our school’s dorm kitchen. Any more questions?

Instead, you uttered a lame “I’m…baking?”. 

Wow, what a great explanation. He surely wouldn’t think you were weird now.

If he doesn’t already think that, you told yourself.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at that, looking even more irritated than before and like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself, huffed out a breath of air and walked towards the cupboard with the glasses and cups, muttering something about him being “way to fuckin’ tired for this shit right now”. 

Still a bit stunned, you watched him fill a glass of water under the tab, lean on the counter and chug it. Before he could fill it up again, though, he seemed to notice your stare on him and he side-eyed you. “What.” 

Realizing that you must’ve probably looked even more insane now, you quickly avoided his piercing gaze and turned back to your brownies-in-progress, resuming your previously interrupted task of measuring the flour after muttering a quick “nothing!”

Pressing a few buttons on the scale, you added a quieter “I was just surprised to see someone else up, is all.” 

You grabbed another bowl and set it on the scale, daring to look up at him again, only to find his eyes still focused on you, much to your surprise. Somehow, the feeling of his eyes on you made you feel…nervous. You tried not to let it show and instead busied yourself with your phone, checking the rest of the recipe. Because he did not immediately make the move to head back to his room, you tried to drown out his presence as best as you could. 

Your relationship to Bakugou was…normal, you thought. As far as you were able to tell with his fiery attitude, he didn’t hate you. That was something, you supposed. He didn’t seem too concerned with you; in class when you were teamed up with him or pitted up against him in teams, he seemed to know enough about your quirk in order to form fitting strategies either with or against it, but when the two of you were teamed up there was someone else from class with you pretty much every time so the two of you had never quite been…alone like this, now that you thought about it. 

“The hell you making, anyway?” 

His voice interrupted your thoughts and you turned back to him, still leaned against the counter but his body angled more in your direction.

“Just some brownies for everyone, I thought we could eat them tomorrow after school or something.” Suddenly you had a thought. “I’ll probably just say I made them yesterday or something, they’ll probably think it’s weird I made them in the middle of the night. Like, who just bakes brownies instead of sleeping, right?”, you let out a nervous laugh at that. 

He stayed silent at that, leaving you to wallow in slight embarrassment, mulling over how you would explain to your classmates where the batch of brownies had magically appeared from. Was there a student with a brownie quirk at U.A.?

“You’re a dumbass.” 

“Huh?” You looked back up at him dumbfounded, eyes having unfocused with your internal chaotic monologue.

He rolled his eyes and walked past you, the scent of his cologne drifting past you in a wave of sandalwood and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. It smelled good. Not that it mattered.

“I said, you’re a dumbass.” Now on your other side, he grabbed the knife and cutting board with the chocolate you had prepared and started chopping.

“Wha-“, you cut yourself off, having to shake your head in order to process what was going on. “What are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Cuttin’ your dumb chocolate for your dumb brownies or whatever,” he shot you a dirty look.

You wanted to argue that neither the chocolate nor the brownies were ‘dumb’, but you held yourself back. Instead, you rephrased the question because technically he had answered it. “Why are you doing that?”

He tch-ed. “Because it’s fucking late and we got team exercise tomorrow and I ain’t losin’ because some teammate of mine was too tired!” His brows were furrowed now and he was chopping faster, the chunks decreasing in size at an almost alarming rate. 

You stopped short. “There’s no guarantee for me being in your team, though.”

“What’d you say?”

“Huh? Uh, nothing, nothing.”

Choosing not to argue with him about his…peculiar way of talking, you watched him cut the chocolate. The pieces were pretty small now, however you figured it would be useless to tell him to stop at this point. Instead, you continued working on the batter, mixing the flour and cocoa powder into the bowl with the eggs, sugar and butter. A sort of comfortable silence settled over the two of you, the crunching of the chocolate under the knife and the whisk scraping the sides of the bowl somehow added to the atmosphere. 

After a while of whisking and spacing out you realized that you could no longer hear the chocolate being cut, so you turned to your right to see Bakugou rinsing off the knife in the sink. Your eyes then drifted to the cutting board where you beheld…chocolate…powder.

What in the-

You snorted. Before you could stop yourself, your whole body was shaken with giggles and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Bakugou’s head snapped towards you, his face contorted into an irritated frown.

“What the fuck?”, seemingly more irritated with each word, he got louder. “What’s so funny, huh?” Dropping the knife in the sink and drying his hands on a kitchen towel which was unceremoniously thrown somewhere on the counter, he walked so he was standing right in front of you. 

“Shhh”, you managed between giggles, “you’re being too loud!” After wiping a tear from your eye and taking another look at his face, where you thought you could see some confusion and maybe uncertainty hidden behind the irritation, you decided to explain the reason for your amusement to him. 

“The chocolate-“, you giggled, “you-“, you pointed towards the now-powder when you broke out into another fit of hushed laughter. 

“The fuck’s wrong with it?” he spat, looking at it for a moment before his eyes snapped back to your face. You failed to notice the tips of his ears reddening as his gaze lingered on your grinning mouth.

He genuinely seemed unaware as to what you were laughing about, so you tried to collect yourself. Taking a deep breath and holding back any more laughter that threatened to escape you, you changed your mind. “You know what? It’s fine.” Grabbing the cutting board, you dumped the powder into the batter and mixed it. “It’s perfect, see?” For better emphasis, you held the bowl so he could look at the contents, not that there was much to notice, but you somehow felt like reassuring him.

He scoffed. “Whatever.”

From the far end of the counter, you grabbed the tray you prepared and poured the batter inside before putting it in the oven, closing the door and setting the temperature. As you straightened your back, it was quiet again and the sudden awkwardness that filled the air made you want to busy your hands with something, so you started cleaning up. 

All the while you were putting back the ingredients to their places in the cupboards, you felt Bakugou’s eyes on you. For some reason, he hadn’t moved from his spot and all of a sudden you were reminded of the pajamas you were currently wearing: checkered blue pajama pants and an oversized, washed-out t-shirt with a character of a children’s TV show and the word SMILE! in bold, glittery letters on the front of the t-shirt. You felt blood rushing to your face and tried to subtly angle your body away from Bakugou. 

After another moment of silence that felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat from behind you. Currently, you were putting away the sugar (the last of your ingredients still standing around – after remembering your outfit you had tried to avoid having to use the cupboard closest to Bakugou) when you stole a glance at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. 

“Don’t-“, he cut himself off, as if he was struggling to find the right words. After a pause of another few seconds, he said, “Don’t think so fucking much.”

“What?”

You turned towards him; ugly shirt forgotten. Out of all the things you’d expected him to say to you – hell, you wouldn’t even have been surprised if he’d just left without saying another word, seeing as you had basically made fun of him for cutting the chocolate weirdly – this wasn’t one of them. You didn’t even know what he meant. 

Bakugou’s brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched.

“It doesn’t matter.”, he said. “When you made the brownies, or whatever. It ain’t any of their business. You baked and they get to eat them, ‘s all they gotta know.”

You were dumbfounded. Staring at him, you searched for a reply, anything to respond, but he beat you to it. 

“Bein’ a hero too, and everything. I see you,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Hesitating. Overthinking. You’re not weak, so what the fuck are you doing?” 

You found it impossible to break the eye contact, his red eyes filled with anger and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. I see you.

He continued. “I’ve seen what you can do. Last week you fucking kicked four villains’ asses alone because they were an immediate danger to surrounding citizens. You acted fast because you knew waiting for backup from pros would have been too late and you immobilized those damn fuckers with a move that could’ve hurt the civilians if you were some extra without proper control over your quirk. But you aren’t. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You have a strong quirk and unlike some other extras here,” his eyes narrowed at that, “you actually know how to use it. So do it. To win.”

To say you were shocked silent was putting it lightly. For a few moments after he was done talking, all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and you hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. At your expression, he seemed to realize the impact of his words at least a little bit. 

“Ah, shit- I didn’t mean-“ He slapped one hand over his mouth. You think you heard a muffled “fucking idiot”, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

In the meantime, you had somehow managed to regain a little bit of your composure to finally respond to him, albeit you were still stuttering a bit.

“Uhh, you-” Suddenly it was very hard to look him in the eyes. “I never knew you paid so much attention to me.”

That sent him over the edge. “What?!” Stumbling backwards, his expression contorted with some of his usual anger, but you could sense there was something more behind it. Embarrassment, maybe? You didn’t miss the way his eyes were darting around the room nervously, now anywhere but on you or how his cheeks seemed to just slightly redden in color, but you might have been imagining it, of course. 

Suddenly curious, you stepped forward. Untouchable, closed-off, self-centered Bakugou had just given you an extremely personal (and accurate) pep talk. He had read you like an open book, and although you’d known he was intelligent, somehow this hadn’t felt all that analytical and more…emotional.

Taking another step towards him and trying to fight the smile from coming onto your face, you whispered, “You’re being loud again, Bakugou.” After a pause, you got serious, “But, thanks, I guess. Hearing something like that coming from you means a lot to me.” 

At that, he regained his composure, narrowing his eyes. “Just stating the obvious. The only thing holding you back is yourself, it’s stupid.”

Wow, so much for some comforting words. You let out a breath of amusement, shaking your head, gaze travelling to the clock by the door. 

“Oh wow, it’s already two.”

At your words, Bakugou’s head also lifted towards the clock. “How long do these things take to bake, anyways?”

“Like, 20 minutes, I think. I better finish cleaning up, wouldn’t want to have to stay up much longer.” As you grabbed the dishes you had used, you realized something. “Hey, I’m not keeping you up, am I? I didn’t mean to make you stay here just because I started talking to you or anything.”

“You’re not doing shit.” Before you realized what he was doing, he grabbed two bowls from your hands and put them in the dishwasher. 

“Wha-”

“I told you you’re gonna be fucking tired tomorrow, so don’t complain.” He was facing away from you now, fishing the knife out from the dink and finishing cleaning it off.

You just stood there with your hands still in front of you from when he had taken the bowls, mouth opened in a slight gasp. 

When he noticed your silence, he turned around. “Stop standing around like some idiot, you wanna stay here until everyone else wakes up, or what?”

That woke you up from your stupor. He was right, you had already lost enough sleep time as it was, although even as you wiped the counters and took a look at the brownies in the oven, you were still wondering what was motivating Bakugou to stay up and even help you clean the kitchen. Especially knowing how particular he was about his own sleep schedule.

When you were finished, you took a look around the kitchen, checking for anything you might have missed. Satisfied when you couldn’t find anything, you turned to Bakugou, who was putting away his glass of water.

“Thanks,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. Him putting away the glass probably meant he would be going back to bed now, but you weren’t sure what to say. ‘Sleep well’? Internally, you laughed at yourself, picturing him counting fluffy little sheep.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He started walking towards the door, pausing once in the doorway. “Don’t stay up too long, [name].” And with that, he was gone. 

For seemingly the twentieth time this night, you were stunned silent. He had called you by your name. He hadn’t said ‘idiot’, ‘nerd’, or anything like that. He had said ‘[name]’. 

His words replayed in your mind over and over, until you remembered that the brownies were probably almost done now. You had to force yourself to move from your position, holding your hands to your cheeks in a futile attempt to cool down the blush that had formed on your face.

The next couple of minutes passed by in a haze, and before you knew it, you were lying in your bed again, having put the finished brownies in a box in the kitchen, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed by everyone immediately. 

“What just happened?”

You found yourself staring at the ceiling again, still hearing his voice at the back of your mind. It seemed your plan to bake some brownies and then to hopefully have an easier time falling asleep was not working out the way you had envisioned. 

“Ugh, freaking Bakugou,” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. You remained like that for some time longer, before turning to lay on your side. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your raging heartbeat, and closed your eyes.

Sleep finally embraced you, and you slept without interruptions for the rest of the night.

BONUS:

The next day, the class was gathered at Ground Beta and preparing for the already announced group exercise by drawing lots. You were one of the only ones left who hadn’t been assigned a team yet. As your name was called, you walked to the box with the lots in it and pulled a slip of paper out.

“You’re in team C, which makes that team complete.”, Mr. Aizawa said, although you weren’t really listening, frozen in place because if you remembered correctly, team C was-

“[name].”

Your head snapped to the owner of the voice, who was none other than Bakugou. Because of course.

“[name]. You gonna stand there all day? Get over here.”

He was using your name again and you found that it made operating like a normal person quite difficult. Your body moving in the direction of your team felt almost robotic; as you tried to avoid his gaze, you nearly stumbled over your own two feet. That woke you up from your stupor, and you mentally slapped yourself for acting like such an idiot.

“I fucking knew it. Because you didn’t sleep, you’re tripping over nothing like some dumbass,” he rolled his eyes. “I fucking told ya not to stay up so long, should’ve listened to me.” 

Now you were blushing furiously and you were pretty sure your heartbeat could be heard all the way back in the classrooms, but before you could think of something to say to him, Kirishima, who was another one of your teammates, cut in. 

“What? Dude, hold on! You were with [name] last night?” The redhead looked at his friend incredulously.

You were pretty sure you saw a vein popping on Bakugou’s temple as he yelled, “Ain’t none of your business, shitty hair, nobody asked for your opinion!”

Your mouth fell open. What a way to make this sound absolutely not weird.

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima laughed, holding his hands up in mock defence and shooting you a not-so-sly wink over his shoulder. “I won’t ask, man. I won’t ask.” 

Oh god. 

While Bakugou yelled some more about how that was not what he meant with some tiny explosions coming out of his palm, you pinched the bridge of your nose, already wondering how you got yourself in this ridiculous situation.

[ao3feed-bakusquad]

Intertwined

intertwined by REDR10T

“You create a rarity of my genuine smiles, so breathe, breathe with me. Can you drink all my thoughts? ‘Cause I can't stand them.” --- Kirishima falls asleep on Bakugou. Bakugou handles it very well! (He doesn't).

Words: 1127, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Additional Tags: Third Year Bakugou Katsuki, Third Year Kirishima Eijirou, Party, kiri is a sleepy drunk and falls asleep on bkg, Literal Sleeping Together, Pining, Pining Bakugou Katsuki, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42079251

[sipsteainanxiety]

pfft do u guys think bkg sleep talks

[prettyboykatsuki]

a glimpse of us | bkdk x reader

✧ tags ;; fem!reader (afab, she/they pronuns used), cigarettes / nicotine addiction, drinking to cope, heavy hurt/comfort, polyamorous negotiations, arguing, unhealthy coping, miscommunications / bad communication, rebounding, getting together, bkdk interact both sexually and intimately, oral (m+f recieving), threesomes, double penetration, anal fingering / anal with prep, intimacy, no power dynamics but reader is confident sexually, petnames (sweetheart, baby), 18+, mdni

✧ wc ;; 19.8k (putting on my clown shoes)

✧ a/n;; i wrote this for me and no one else and you will notice this right away. my bkg bias is also kinda present HDFJKSD

✧ synopsis ;; you always knew you were a stand-in. why wouldn't you be? but you hoped that at least once, he saw you for what you were. that all those years together meant something more.

You haven’t touched a cigarette since your last year of college. 

It’s the middle of the night, and the September air is colder than you know what to do with. Part of you knows you should wear a jacket since the weather is persistently bad. It’ll storm soon. 

But another part of you doesn’t really care if you get sick. So, instead of dwelling - you follow your whims and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Sitting up in your bed, all of your limbs feel heavy. Your eyes are swollen almost shut, crusty from a long night of crying and drinking. 

You laugh a little humorlessly for being so upset about the whole thing, sober enough to do so. Right now, at least after some sleep, you feel okay. Not bad, definitely not good, but okay. And you want to smoke a cigarette, which is probably a sign that you’re not coping with this as well as you’ve hoped.

You don’t think about it. You choose not. Instead, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and stand to your feet. You look around your room. Your cat, Ganache, is asleep in a cardboard box, making you laugh. Your laundry is in a pile, and your work is sprawled all over your desk. Tomorrow, you’ll finish some of it and maybe take a hike alone. 

There’s no light in your room besides the moon, covered by clouds. Through the glass doors in your bedroom - leading to the balcony, you look at it for a long time. The sky is starless. It’s light pollution, but somehow it feels like you. Lonely.

You laugh at your own misery and walk to the bathroom to examine your face. You’re worse for wear. Your hair hasn’t been touched in god knows how long, and your face is covered in oil. Reaching your hands out for the faucet, you run the warm water, pumping face wash into your hands and rubbing your skin maybe a little harder than necessary. 

You don’t want to think about it. Your fingers scrub along your cheek, and around the area of your nose that gets crusty during the cooler season. Splashing warm water into your skin, you wash the soap away and pat it dry into a towel. 

Better, you think while looking into the mirror. At least a little bit. 

You put some cream on, and some chapstick but don’t bother brushing your teeth. It’d be pointless to do it now, knowing you’re going to smoke yourself halfway through a pack and it’ll linger on your lips for days. 

You don’t change out of your PJs. Worn basketball shorts, and a muscle tank top that shows off the skin stay on. You rummage around in your drawer for a windbreaker and put it on over your clothes. It’s 2 sizes too big but covers you decently. 

Before you leave your apartment, you give your cat a little rub on the head but don’t wake her. You grab your keys, some pepper spray, and a lighter and shove them into your pocket before taking a look around your barren apartment. 

You were planning on moving out, just a few weeks ago, somewhere closer to them. The irony isn’t lost on you.  

You turn the knob and close the door behind you - checking to make sure it’s locked before descending down your hallway. There’s a single light at the end but the rest is dark. It’s a quiet walk. You take an elevator to the first floor. and then leave the whole place behind. 

You turn your head to look at it, worried it’ll disappear for a minute. Afterward, you’re out on the street alone for the first time in a long time. 

You tilt your head back and stare at the sky. With chapped skin and the tip of your nose freezing, you look at the moon again. It cradles you. Alone, so utterly and terribly alone you think. But the two of you are alone together, and even though it’s silly - it keeps you from crying. 

You didn’t bring your headphones, though your phone is in your pocket.  Normally, being alone at night makes you nervous. You used to always have company or someone you could call. 

You could still probably call them. If you wanted. They’re heroes before they’re anything else. 

But the walk is simply cumbersome. You’re not afraid. Too numb, or too desperate to hold onto the brief relief of apathy to be afraid. Nothing happens on the walk there, but you’re not really paying attention. Even if the world collapsed right now, you wouldn’t know. 

You know you’re at your location because the light is almost blinding. The luminescent glow of the neon lights makes your vision feel bleary, flickering red kanji and sterile white from the inside. You look around to see no one else is really there, aside from you.

You hesitate to walk in. Is it worth it to break a 4-year streak over this?

But you can feel the itch in your throat, the dryness in your mouth. The memory of relief overwhelms your every sense. Your stomach lurches, scratching your neck. 

You walk into the store. 

A noise goes off, a little ding. The person at the cash register doesn’t even lift his head to look at you. A college student, you think. He looks young. 

You miss college, sometimes. You were a lot more of a mess. Stressed out, frantic, with a fully functioning liver  at the start which was nice. But at least then, everything felt more temporary. Every wound felt like it would heal,  no matter how big. Everything felt like an impactful part of your growth. 

And it’s not like you’re not growing anymore, but now misery just feels like misery. You don’t feel it as much as you live it passively. You have bills to pay. A pet to take care of. Parents old enough to retire. So every bad thing just becomes part of the wave that crashes at your feet every so often. 

If this happened in college, you’d be crying and partying and whatever else. You wouldn’t be as desperate to move on, maybe. Letting yourself be broken was a luxury that you didn’t think you still had.

But you don’t want that for yourself either. You just want to stop it altogether and disappear. Under a cloud of white, or the stream of a creak. You just want to go. 

You can’t though. Can’t leave. Can’t uproot yourself into new soil, so you lean into old habits for comfort.

Smoking helps you disappear. Your lungs, passively intaking the nicotine and replacing the remaining parts of you. 

You search the fridges for a 6 pack of beers. Some cat food, some microwave meals, a candy bar. You take it all in your hands and dump it onto the counter. The kid at the counter gives you a look like he’s startled. He’s reading manga, though you can’t see the cover. 

“Could I get two packs of cigarettes? Seven Stars, Revo Lights Menthol.” You say, voice still thick with sleep. You give him a half-smile as he seems startled, watching as his hands fiddle with the keys of the cigarette case. 

He puts the two packs on the table, closing it back up. It squeaks as the glass is pulled back into place. His manga is left open on the table. You glance at it.

“Fire Punch?” 

He looks surprised as he scans your things, a flush on his face. 

“Oh, Uhm, yeah. You know it?” 

You nod your head. 

“Read it in high school. Agni is a cool protagonist.” 

All of a sudden he’s beaming at you. It catches you off-guard, but it makes sense. It’s an older manga and never got all that popular. He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I’ve never met anyone who’s read it. I uhm.. would love to talk about it. You know.” 

He puts your stuff in a plastic bag, with the tips of his ears going pink. Your eyes widen, and you give him a little grin. While you look like this, huh? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice. 

“You know I’m older than you, yeah?” 

He looks startled that you read through his intentions. He’s good-looking. Tall, with dark hair and a mole under his eye. 

“I know I look like a kid, but I’m 22.” 

“So, only a few years.  Not bad for looking the way I do right now. You got a thing for older girls?” You joke. 

“That’ll be 4,100 yen. And, not really. You just…seemed cool.”  He says, trailing off. You chuckle at him, looking at his nametag before offering him a look.

“I’m not, I can guarantee you. Getting hit on made me feel a little better though. Thanks for that. Do you want my number?” You ask, with a half-smile. His eyes go wide, then he nods hard. You laugh at him. 

It’s not like you have anything left to lose. 

“Got a pen?” 

He looks frantically around for a pen and then hands it to you. You give him the money you owe him first. When he hands you a receipt and change, you flip the flimsy paper over and scribble your number down on it. You grab the bag off the counter, pocketing the cigarettes and holding the rest.

Passing your number down, you pat it twice. 

“I can’t guarantee I’ll go out with you any time soon. But you made me feel better, so I’ll give you this. We can talk manga some time. and maybe catch a drink. You’ve got a good face, so don’t waste it on people like me.”

He looks at you startled but takes the paper anyway in a daze. You smile. He seems nice at least. Harmless. 

“Y-Yeah. Right. that’d be nice. I uh, hope your night gets better.” 

You can feel the melancholy all over your skin as you smile. 

“Thanks. Have a nice night.” 

You grab your things, turning to walk around. Almost unwilling. But if you stay any longer, you know you’re gonna end up letting yourself talk and you don’t wanna dump all that on a person you just met. Just before he goes, he calls for you. 

“Hey, uh - be careful. It’s kind of late. I’d walk you home if I wasn’t on the clock. There might be a hero around, so you know -” 

You turn your head, looking at him for a minute. Your chest aches at the thought of having people to call. 

“Thanks for looking out. I’ll be alright. Night,” 

You leave, with a hand in your pocket and another one curled around the plastic shopping bag. 

You should probably go back home. 

You keep walking, though. A bad choice, maybe. Instead of turning back onto that road, you walk down another one that you recognize, taking one left until you find a bench underneath a streetlight. 

It’s quiet. Empty. There aren’t any heroes patrolling but it’s a local road surrounded by houses and apartments. You don’t feel any danger as you sit down on the wood bench, brushing it once with your hands beforehand. 

It’s freezing. Your whole body is icy to the touch. A shiver tears through you as your skin comes in contact with the seat. It’s chillier than it was when you left. Your bag lets out a soft clunk as you set it down next to you.  You reach into your windbreaker for the pack of cigarettes and your lighter. 

Balancing the lighter between your thighs, you lean forward. With your elbows on your knees, you smack the pack of cigarettes against your palm. Your fingers tremble from the weather, the wind blowing in a hard gust. 

You don’t think about it. You use your keys to get rid of the plastic outside, and then open the pack up. The one in the middle of the top row, your hands shake when you take it.

You bring the end to your chapped lip, fishing for your lighter. It’s an expensive thing you got as a gift, engraved. It’s almost out of fuel so it feels light in the palm of your hands. Even so, you flick it open. You run your finger over the wheel, stopping when the flame flickers on. 

You bring it to the end of your cigarette, watching it burn. The orange-red glow soothes you. The fire keeps you warm. It burns, and you watch it burn - and with your lips closed around one end, you take a deep and long inhale. 

It’s been a long time. Longer than you thought. It feels raw.  Nicotine and menthol mix together making your lips tingle and your lungs sting. It tastes like tar and long nights — like a college party, like a balcony, like a place far from here. 

Like a time, far far away from this. You balance the stick between your fingers, pulling it away as you exhale the first drag. Blowing a cloud of grey smoke into the air, you lose yourself in it. You smoke and pass the time. 

You can’t feel anything but that. The adrenaline crawls up your spine and makes your fingers all jittery. You lean into it without even meaning to. Four years down the drain, you think. It would’ve been 5 in a few months

But you take another drag anyway. Your joints hurt. You smoke, and when the feeling is starting to make your stomach sour - you reach into the pack for a can of beer and drink that to soothe your nerves. 

Letting your head rest on the edge of the bench, you stretch yourself out. With a beer can on the ground, you ash your cigarette out. You stretch your arm over your face, the end still burning. 

For one minute, you really had forgotten. The interaction at the store helped. The cigarette helped. The sleep helped. The beer helped. 

But nothing was enough to make you forget it completely. 

You fear that things might always feel like this. That even time can’t stretch itself over a wound this big. Would there ever be enough to fill the sudden crater of a loss like this, to ever fix you? 

At some point, you’ll have to accept nothing can ever be the same.. 

For a long, long time - you cry by yourself. It’s not a desperate sob like it had been 2 weeks ago. It’s just an exhausted, soft little one. Somewhere, inside of yourself, you cry like a baby. Like a child aching to be held though part of you knows no one is there to listen. Self soothe, you say to yourself. Stop crying.

 It’s not like you don’t know how to be alone. What that was like. 

You just never thought you’d have to be again, and maybe you aren’t all the way. You’ve got a slew of concerned messages on your phone that you’ve been replying to automatically and you’ve been completely disconnected from everyone for a while now. 

Reaching out to them will help. In time, you know that. When you’re ready you will. You don’t have the luxury to let the pain linger for as long as you know it will, as it has to. Eventually, you’ll get back up. Even now, the days pass silently without you living them. 

You know everything there is to know. Of course, you do. You know what they’ll say. You know that they’ll feel sorry for you. You know Kirishima would’ve held you without ever hesitating. You know your mother would’ve welcomed you if you showed up without a word. Of course, you know. 

But knowing where a wound is, you’ve learned, doesn’t make it stop hurting it. Knowing the cause, the color, the shape, and the taste of your injury will never heal it. Your familiarity with your pain doesn’t do anything at all, to make it stop. 

You light another cigarette, sitting forward with your elbows on your knees. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you swear. 

“Fuck.” 

The memories suffocate you. 

You met them both while you were in college. When you were a sophomore in college, they’d saved you from a villain attack. They weren’t dating then, but they made conversation with you after you’d gotten a pretty big injury. 

You didn’t care for Bakugou at first. He was loud, mean, and crass. Midoriya has always been the same - friendly, awkward, genuine. Their friendship didn’t really make sense to you, like they spoke in a language you couldn’t ever learn. Midoriya always placated him. They looked at each other with a history that you never imagined having with anyone. 

You never thought you would see them again, so you asked. Sitting in the back of an ambulance getting patched up - they told you the story of them. Like they’ve told it a hundred times before. Childhood friends, they told you. They wanted to become heroes, it was rocky then it wasn’t. Midoriya gushed about Bakugou’s ability the whole time, and Bakguou told him to fuck off but blushed the entire time. 

You kept running into them, afterward. You were all convinced it was fate. They’d saved you 3 times before Bakugou told you to stop being an idiot with nothing but good intentions and maybe that’s when you knew you were in it. 

It was a long time. Not an overnight spark or sense of magnetism, not destiny. Just luck. Just chance that deepened and grew roots over time. You don’t remember much of it in full, just bits and pieces. Like a drop of water building an ocean - you can’t count for each time. 

You can name the rainstorms though, the floods, the days where it was clear they started to matter to you.  

And they mattered to you a lot where it counted. You went to college in a city far from your hometown, and you didn’t make many friends so you could keep up with your scholarship. College was mostly very stressful. You were just trying to keep yourself but you met them. And you think afterwards you started living.

You knew about them from the beginning. How they looked at each other, not realizing how obvious they made it that they loved each other. Perhaps hiding it after everything felt unnatural. 

You were content they wanted to be your friend. It was that simple. When they invited you out with them on their day off, you were confused but you always went. You were happy that they wanted you around. 

They never stopped showing up for you. They went to your stupid club events and made a scene. Bought you gifts for the years you were sure you’d spend your birthday alone. Texted you on their patrols, first individually then together. 

You learned to make your own friends too, but so much of your life is steeped in them. You thought, at first, that Midoirya took pity on you. You’ve always looked lonely. He was always the type to go out of his way for strangers. Bakugou just came along for the ride.

You realized later he never did anything he didn’t want to do. Even his admission meant that you were supposed to be there. 

Time passed. And the two of them, slowly, brought you into their lives. You met their friends and attended their big awards and major achievements while they did yours. On weekend horror movie showings they dragged you along, and during Hero Expo season you always got V.I.P passes. You never told them you only ever went to see them.

They were busy people. It took you a long time to let yourself be a part of that at all. You would always be on the outside, you knew - but they were good to you. You got on with them both so easily, more than anyone else you’d ever met and it— 

It felt special to you at least. 

You think somewhere down the line, you were content to be an outsider. Everything about them had become so comfortable, that you would’ve been content staying in that same place forever. As an outsider, a watcher, a friend. Just a friend. 

They started dating the year you were set to graduate college, and it really wasn’t all that different. Sometimes you caught them kissing, or hugging, or with a hickey on someone's neck but they treated you the same. Kept you at the same distance which wasn’t all that far.

It was in that same year, you realized you’d fallen in love with them both horribly.

Surprisingly, knowing that wasn’t all that bad. You knew it kind of instinctively when you realized it for the first time. It was shocking at first, but you were still content. You could swallow the ache in your chest seeing them happy. You were always an outsider to that, anyway. From the moment you met, there was history between them that would always surpass you and you knew that. Better than anyone. There was never a place for you to be, but you liked the one you had. You cherished that friendship so much you put it above your own feelings, for a long time. You had never met people who put you first so eagerly. Who went out of their way for you so often.

You like to believe they loved you like a friend. It helps to think that.

Four years. You’d loved them both, and so much - for four long years. You were just content to see them love each other because you could always tell they did. You wanted them to be happy.

Looking back they never put real distance between you both. You should’ve done that sooner. 

More than anything. More than yourself. From the start, maybe you should’ve guarded your heart more. You were always weak to them. They were the only people to welcome you so much to anything, but maybe you should’ve—

When they broke up, you didn’t know what to do. 

They’d always been.. together. For as long as you can remember. 

It was Midoriya who showed up at your door. You should’ve sent him home. It’s your own fault, for cramming yourself into a space never meant for you. 

He cried in your arms for two days and two nights. You felt sorry for him and texted Bakugou who told you to go fuck yourself. Whatever happened, neither of them would say or tell. It was serious. In the four years they’d been together, they fought but you never saw them like this. 

Even though you dated for 6 months, your time with Midoriya all feels very blurry. 

You blame yourself. No matter what anyone tells you, deep down, it would always be your fault. After those two days, he just needed someone to lean on.

It didn’t happen right away. Midoriya isn’t capable of that. It was after a few months of him visiting, of him dropping by, of him touching you. He leaned on you, even now - you don’t really know why.

You don’t really understand it but you think he must’ve mistaken the comfort you gave him for love. He’s only ever loved Bakugou so it’s possible he never really understood. You kissed, hugged, touched here and again but never had sex.

In hindsight, you’re glad about that. 

Months passed like that, in each other’s company. Midoriya came back after work and slept in your bed every night. You woke up together. But you knew, that whole time, there was an inevitable end. 

You always knew. When he hesitated when he looked at you. But sometimes, you got to see the melancholy go away. You watched movies and laughed, and made dinner together. There were enough happy memories to let you forget everything else. 

It’s funny. Loving someone so wholly you wouldn’t ask them to love you back. No one would believe you if you told them, but even knowing you were just a stand-in - you were content to experience affection for a while. Like you mattered. You liked being able to make him happy. 

You wanted Bakugou to be happy too, but every text you sent him got left on read. You called but never got a reply. 

You figured he might’ve resented you. You wouldn’t blame him. Truthfully, you question what you ever had. Maybe you deluded yourself into thinking tolerance was longing. You tried that whole time to get them together, but they did it on their own. 

He broke up with you after your new promotion. You never got a chance to tell him. The bottle of wine was still in your apartment. 

Just like before, he cried for a long time. Said sorry more times than you knew what to do. He called himself selfish, apologized, said he still wanted to be friends, that Kacchan missed you too. 

Over and over, he apologized to you.

You had always been an outsider. Even in your last minutes together, you comforted him when he cried. You didn’t know how to do anything else. You wish you felt contempt. 

You’re mostly confused. None of it made any sense. But why would it? You’re just a stranger caught in a storm, too big for your boots. 

It was when he said that one thing it broke you. 

“I couldn’t stop seeing him in your face. I’m so so sorry. I should’ve never—”

You think that was the first time it all collapsed. Nothing registered after. He didn’t see you, even once. Maybe neither of them did. You were just someone they had been nice to. You got involved in this all by yourself. 

You didn’t say anything to him. What would you have? All you said, very quietly at the end, was that you don’t want to see either of them again.

“Please respect that. And, I really do hope the both of you are happy.” 

You cried for 3 days. You took your first days off from work, and your manager didn’t question your paid time off. It’s been 3 weeks, and you haven’t spoken to anyone.

And now you’re here, alone - halfway through a packet of cigarettes and hoping your next breath will carry you out of here. It’s freezing cold, and you're numb all over. You blame yourself, and it hurts so much it makes you sick. You want everything to disappear. You want to scream, cry, curl in on yourself. 

But there’s nothing left for you to do or say. It’s all over, anyway. And it’s your fault for being greedy. For hoping that in the end, he would’ve at least seen you for what you were.

You’ve finished another cigarette. Your fourth one, which means you’ve only been sitting for 20 minutes. It feels like a century.

You wipe your eyes of stray tears, laughing to yourself.

“God, what the hell's wrong with me?”

Your throat is hoarse so you drink some more beer. You cool it on the cigarettes because you don't want to finish the pack before tomorrow. 

You don’t even get to check your voice before a terribly familiar voice catches your attention. 

You think for a second you're hallucinating.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Pro-Hero Deku, I’m doing some nightly patrols in this area. Do you need someone to escort you—“

Whatever higher power there is must be pretty sadistic. You hold your breath. 

He stops in front of you. You freeze up completely. It doesn’t even feel real when you look at him. You blink a few times trying to make sure you’re seeing clearly. 

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

His voice is so soft. The same as you remember. You swallow your discomfort, frazzled. Don’t be greedy.

You pick your beer can up, drinking the last of it before trashing it. 

“I didn’t know you patrolled here.”

You don’t have to see him to hear the frown in his voice. 

“…I usually don't. I’m covering for Mindjack, but that’s.. why are you out here?” He says, voice filled with concern. You don’t know what to say, so you opt to say as little as possible. 

“I live close by.”

He knows that. His frown deepens. 

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“I just wanted to get some air. I’m going home now, anyway—”

“Wait a minute, please.” 

You screw your eyes shut, back turned away from him. Every inch of your skin is burning. Your heart is sinking like it’s made of glass.

You sigh, voice trembling. 

“What do you want?” 

“Would you please turn around so we can at least talk face to face?” 

You don’t mean to say it. You don't mean to sound so bitter and broken and utterly defeated. The words slip out of you like a tire losing air. 

“Are you sure you know what it looks like when you’re not looking for someone else?”

He stiffens behind you. 

“Please,” is all he says. Like it's all he needs to say. All he can really offer.

You only turn around so he can bear witness to your suffering. Not that you want him to feel guilty but maybe it’ll make him leave you alone. Your eyes are red and swollen when you turn to face him, hands in your pockets. You don’t look at him. You’re afraid to. 

“…Have you been smoking?”

“Yeah.” 

“But you were clean for—”

“It’s none of your business what I was or wasn’t, Midoriya.” 

Midoriya. Not Izuku. Your stomach twists.

“Please don’t be like this.” He says, sounding desperate. 

You smile. It's sorrowful. Everything is tangled and messy and confusing. Like everything was a lie, and you were the last person to know. You don’t get it anymore. Your voice comes out, worn and gentle. 

“I always knew it would end. I was never under the illusion that you really loved me. That either of you did,” You start, voice breaking. It’s cathartic. 

And if this is really the last time, you should say what you wanted. 

“Of course we—why wouldn’t we—“

“I always knew you didn’t really feel that way.  It was just… nice to feel like I was important. No one in my life ever went out of their way for me like the two of you did,”

His voice breaks. 

“Y/N, please”

“I was always afraid to call you my best friends. It’s funny but it never felt right. Kirishima and Todoroki - they were your best friends. What was I, then? I never knew.  You were always each other’s. And I was there, and we were so close. But I never really fit. It never really made any sense,” 

He looks like he’s crying. You wish you could comfort him and you hate yourself for wanting to. 

“I mostly feel pathetic. I think that’s all. I have nothing to show for everything I went through,” You laugh a little under your breath, wiping your tears “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t so eager to feel loved. To love you in what capacity I could. Maybe things would be different,”

You reflect on your life with them. All that life you lived with people who you probably won’t ever see again, they’re easy enough to avoid. 

“It might be better if we pretend that we never knew each other. That way, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Kats—Bakugou won’t have to acknowledge me. And I can forget it all together,” 

“I don’t want to lose y-you, and Kacchan he—” 

You shake your head with a smile. Now that it’s all out, it feels clear. Of course, they loved you. 

Just not enough.

 Really, that’s all it's ever been. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

You think this time, you’ll really be able to move on. He doesn’t reply, but you can hear him hiccup. 

“I loved you both for four long years. That whole time. I was so happy we got to all be together, it didn’t even hurt. I don’t regret a lot of it. Maybe just those six months, and maybe not being able to see Bakugou. I miss him. I miss you too,” 

You breathe. It finally feels alright to do it. 

“But, I don’t want to see either of you ever again. If you’re in an emergency you can come to find me. I think it’s about time to move on,” 

You can hear him calling out for you when you turn around. Asking to walk you home, but you know he won’t follow you. You just keep walking and don’t look back. You turn the corner and head down the empty street. Back home by yourself. 

On the way, you smoke another cigarette. You keep the pack in your pocket. 

You let go. 

It’s just about that time, anyway. 

__ 

Weeks pass by like their nothing.

Your confrontation with Midoriya knocked some of the sense back into you. You came home, cried for 15 minutes, and then took a long shower under hot water. Afterward, you put on some nice lotion, replied to emails, and picked out an outfit for going to work tomorrow. 

Slowly but surely, you tried to get your life back in order to some degree. You threw yourself at your job since that made the most sense to you, working over time. Being alone with your thoughts for too long has proved to lead to drinking or smoking in excess, so you hang out with a crowd where you can.  

You met with your friends, all of which have supported you completely but only yelled at you for isolating yourself, to begin with. You visited your parents where your dad threatened to knock Midoriya’s lights out, claiming he was still very strong. The sentiment made you feel warm. 

You climbed yourself back into something of stability. It’s not like you’re over it. You feel considerably empty and fall into random fits of crying more often than you like  and you still smoke whenever you feel the stress of a long day overtake you. But it’s notably better. You’re hanging on and you hadn’t really been before. 

Some days are worse than others. Sometimes you pass a street vendor you used to frequent and have to sob over your steering wheel before going home. You see them in the news so often it’s starting to be funny in a dramatic irony sort of way - like the universe wants you to remember they exist. 

You’ve been careful to avoid them, though, it’s not as easy to avoid their friends. Kirishima got choked up when you ran into each other, making you promise that you’d keep in contact. In the last few weeks, you’ve seen Jirou, Todoroki, and Shinso all of which seemed happy to see you doing okay. 

It was nice. Knowing that they were your friend too, and not just someone who saw them by extension. No one really asked any invasive questions so you figured word got around. 

It’s been alright. You’ve been okay at best. It’s mostly been lonely.  You’re just trying to live with it, and you’re thinking about seeing a therapist just to get yourself sorted. 

Today is a Wednesday. You switched out one of your days off to accompany Ganache to the vet for a routine check-up. It was early in the day, so you had the rest of it to yourself.

Lately, you’ve been texting the guy from the convenience store. His name is Akio, and he’s an exchange student. You mostly text back and forth about manga, and he does a thing where he sends you selfies where he ends up being. He’s cute and a good enough distraction from your misery, plus he’s actually pretty funny when he calls or texts.

You lean back into your couch, picking your feet up to get comfortable. You’re freshly showered and hairless after the impulse choice to shave. The TV is playing some daytime soap that you’re not normally home to see, and there’s a cold beer on a coaster waiting to be opened. 

You swipe open your phone after receiving a text. It’s him, studying for an exam. That makes you laugh. 

(from akio, 2:45pm): long day OTL 

(sent 2:46): it’s my day off. do your best and maybe we can go drink. 

(from akio, 2:46): wait really? 

You laugh. 

(sent 2:47) only if you do your work ❤️

(from akio, 2:48): ON IT. where do you wanna get drinks? 

You conjure up a location, close-by where you leave - sending him to it. You watch him type back with a laugh. 

(from akio, sent 2:48): im suddenly very busy and im gonna finish studying. see you at 6?

(sent: 2:9): see you at 6 

He sends you a slew of very excited emojis and you bite your lip. Admittedly, you feel a little guilty. Though you’re careful to make your intentions clear, a guy so eager to even be in your presence is a nice change. A little harmless flirting has been good for your self-esteem and he’s a great guy. Him being younger than you isn’t as deterrent when you check his Instagram  and find out he’s very jacked. 

You feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing and all the time. But it’s nice to be wanted and send risque selfies to get a hesitant reply. It might be good to sleep with him, get your mind off of it. 

You only ever dated on guy in college and hooked up with a couple of people that you can count on your hand. Your relationship was nice but not memorable, and you broke up over a disagreement about finances in your junior year. After that, you went on sparse dates to keep up appearances. 

But it felt wrong to even try when your heart was in other place. So now, you’re just being careful and having fun. And it is fun.

Maybe you can get laid. He seems like he’d have good stamina. 

You cover your own face in embarrassment at the train of thought, giggling.

“Fuck what am I even thinking about?” 

You shake your head like you’re trying to shoo the thoughts away. You reach over for the beer on the table, shivering as the cold can comes in contact with your skin. Undoing the tab, you take a long sip - warmed by the taste. You don’t even know what flavor this is supposed to be since it was a gift but it’s expensive and malty. 

You drink and watch the T.V. A girl caught in a love triangle with two male leads. Both of the male leads are rich and powerful, and the girl comes from a small town. You snort. 

“Get out of there while you can, little lady. Save yourself.” 

You don’t know how long you sit there and melt into your couch, watching the TV and scrolling on your phone. Doing something productive feels out of reach for now and you’re comfortable passing the day like this. You haven’t really had a normal day of relaxation that doesn’t devolve rapidly into feeling sorry for yourself, so even being able to sit around be lazy without any other pretense feels luxurious. 

You think you spend 2 hours like that before your body signals you that it needs fed. Ganache comes up to sit on your lap, accompanying you while you order something to eat. Your finger reacches out for her little head, scratching just under her chin. 

“You’re getting hungry too, huh?” 

She lets out a soft purr before plopping her head against your bare thigh. You smile, perusing what feels like hundreds of options. It always feels like picking a place is the hardest part. 

Trying not to be paralyzed by choice, you jump out of your skin when you hear the doorbell ring. Your cat hops off of your lap at the noise. With furrowed brows, you try to think about who would be ringing your door without dropping by first. 

You ordered a new air purifier for your room last week. Maybe it came early? You would’ve got a notification from them, wouldn’t you? You shake your head. Either way, you’d prefer to have it instead of having to pick it up from the post office. 

On pure chance that it is that, you stand up and dust yourself off. Pulling your shorts down slightly, you grab a zip-up hoodie from the side of your couch making sure nothing is falling out. You pad softly to the door, unlocking it. 

“Hello?” 

As soon as you open the door, you see the last person you were expecting. Everything just sort of.. stops in it’s place. For a minute, you don’t breathe. You don’t think. You just… tense. And stare, your hands on door knob. Debating whether or not you should even open it all the way, or say anything. 

You would close it if you didn’t see his face. You’ve never seen him look so tired, and seeing that makes your heart drop into your gut. 

“...Bakugou?” 

He looks up and then looks at you. His shoulders sag in what seems like relief but you can’t be certain. 

“What are you…?” 

He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again like he’s come up short on the right words. He’s not in his costume for work, and his hands are in his pockets. He’s bigger than you by a mile, but he looks.. terribly small. Maybe frail. Not like himself. 

“Hey.” He says, short  and quiet. His hand reaches up around his neck “Can we talk?”

Your gut reaction is to turn him down. You’ve made all this progress, and you think that letting him in through the door would be ruining it. But he looks so depserate, and that looks so unusual. He doesn’t look angry, and that scares you. 

You don’t mean to let him, but you owe him that much you think. Answers for those 6 months. He was blameless for everything that had happened between the two of you, anyways. You open the door, stepping to one side. 

He looks at you, a pained expression passing over him before stepping in. Your breath catches, quietly watching as he takes off his combat boots. Ganache meanders over to him. She was always fond of Bakugou. You watch the two of them interact and you feel your heart rip in half. 

Your entanglements show in ways you don’t expect. It’s too much.

He wears the house slippers left out for him, almost out of habit. And then he looks at you for a minte. You snap out of your trance, scratching your cheek. 

“Oh, uhm. You can… sit. Did you want a drink maybe? A beer?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to be so damn courteous to me,” He says. Your expressions softens, heart squeezed in your ribs. The disparity settles in the bottom of your lungs, crawling up your throat like a bile. It’s still so early in the day. You can see his expression so clearly. So obviously melancholy. 

You choke around the words. 

“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be,” You say. You offer him a half-smile. It’s true. You never really had any reason to be angry with him. If he hated or resented you, it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it. 

He closes his eyes than looks away, silently walking off to your living room. You follow him, sitting diagonal to him. You stare at your feet, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. Fidgeting. 

You don’t know how long you sit there. The TV is muted, so you direct your eyes to the soaps - trying to avoid the obvious. 

Bakugou breaks the silence first. 

“You’re smokin’ again.”

His voice of devoid of anything you can read. You look at the ash-tray on the table, before you nod. 

“Yeah.” You reply simply. He leans forward on his elbows. 

“...You haven’t smoked since college grad.” He says. You smile. 

“Yeah.” 

You’ve been alone with Bakugou before. Engaged in quiet, comfortable silences. Midoriya normally did the talking for you, so the two of you were accustomed to letting him ramble. Alone though, you normally just enjoyed each others company or talked in depth about something you found important. 

When he wasn’t blowing a fuse, you found Bakugou intelligent and practical. You talked about a lot of things, like money and the failings of the Hero Commission and the news. Stuff people found boring, he would normally have something to say. He was always opinionated on everything. Movie, music, books. 

You haven’t seen him in over half a year. Not in person, anyway. It’s hard to avoid the number one and two hero in media as it would be. 

“I don’t wanna kick you out or anything. Uh, we have a lot to talk about I guess. I just—I’m going out for drinks at 6 so—” 

He cuts in abruptly. 

“With who?” 

You pull back. 

“...A guy I met the other day.”

His jaw clenches. Irritation passes over his face as he scrubs a palm over it. He looks upset but you can’t figure out why. 

“Have I met him?”

You shake your head. 

“Probably not. He’s in college. Met him while I was buying cigarettes, actually.” You muse, feeling fond. “He’s a good kid.” 

“Are you—Are you interested him?” 

Your eyes widen, staring at him. His voice is holding something in it, half-way between anger and sadness. You don’t really understand him or why he seems like that. Does he think you’re moving on too fast from Izuku?

But that doesn’t feel right to you either. Maybe seeing you happy is upsetting. You don’t know. 

“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking. We just.. talk. Flirt, I guess.” You say, shaking your head. You turn your attention back on him “Don’t know why that’s important. What’d you wanna talk about?” 

His eyes widen, and then his face fall. You’re more confused than before. 

“Don’t know why that’s important huh?”

You watch him. His face after you’ve said that. He looks upset. Part of you thinks you’re imagining it. But you’ve never seen him look like this. He buries his face in his hands, swearing. 

“Fuck this.. fuck this is—”

You decide to interject. 

“I don’t know why you’re here but since you are I wanted to say… I wanted to say sorry. I figure that’s why you’re here. That it’s related to that somehow, but before anything I wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

It’s been on the tip of your tongue. Weighted, heavy on the inside and impatiently trying to pry itself from between your teeth. Your words come out in a jumbled mess. Part of you can’t help but expect rejection. You sit here, and stare at him and you think to yourself that you’re sorry. 

You understand Midoriya at times like this. But you won’t say it more than once, fearful it’ll be a burden to you both. You just spit it out. Like a loose tooth. The blood comes after, filling your tongue with bitter taste of iron.  

Lately, you’ve lost the words for heartache. Ache as in bruise, as in hurt that’s lingered for a long time. Your heart aches terribly, and every passing day feels like being trampled on. You look at Bakugou when you say sorry, and your heart expands into the stiffness of your ribs. And it hurts all over, like one raw injury. Lately the taste of your suffering is a cigarette and beer. You wonder what that says about you.

You feel something thick in your throat, looking away. 

“Why the fuck are you saying sorry?” He asks, voice shaking with anger. You wince. 

“For everything.” You say, griefstricken with every word. You feel your vision get blurry, looking away as you try to take the tremble out of your voice “Sorry for everything, Katsuki.”

You try your best not to cry but you can feel the gaping hole reopen in your chest. You wish this was just a reunion. The longing is so sharp and so endless. It wasn’t like Midoriya. You didn’t have memories to help you cope. You never got a chance to tell him thank you or i love you. 

He had always made it clear he didn’t want you around, but you still.. still found yourself clinging to his tolerance. To the fact he was always the first one to reach for you. That he listened to you intently and pushed you to do what you wanted. 

Midoriya was soft. Comfortable. Bakugou was tough. He held you steady through all your stress. Cleaned your apartment when life was too much to bear and picked you up at your lowest without a word of judgement. 

And in the end you touched the one thing that was never yours. You thought it would be okay because you hadn’t seen him for 7 long months in person. It would’ve beem if you hadn’t seen him again. 

But he’s here just the same. And you love him. You love him so much, so deeply, and all at once you feel consumed by the reminder. It burns inside of you hotly. The tears flow naturally. 

Don’t be greedy, you tell yourself. This is the universes way of reminding you of what you did. There was never any place for you.

“Hey, fuck. Sweetheart, stop cryin’. Please just fucking look at me, can’t stand seeing you cry,” 

You can’t stop yourself from wailing. It’s ugly, and loud, and horrible. No matter how much you try to clamp it down, it spills from between your fingers and stains everything. Your whole body shakes with it. Hiccuping, you swallow a noise of distress. 

“I didn’t m-mean for it to end like this. I didn’t want—I didn’t want to hurt you, either of you I just. I got selfish a-and I—fuck, I got greedy. I never meant to, I didn’t want this.”

Before you understand what’s happening, you feel a body around you. 

Strong arms. Bakugou’s arms. He’s standing up to hug you, and you can feel him trembling when he pulls you to him. Your heart squeezes, but you don’t let yourself sink. His hands cup the back of your head, and you sob softly into the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck. I’m such an idiot. Please stop crying, sweetheart. Please.” 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry” 

For a while, you can’t do anything but weep. Bakugou doesn’t let go of you. He’s never been good at comforting people, but his grip on you is tight. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like that, sobbing into his arms with your fingers in his shirt. 

Your head feels messy, throbbing when you finally manage to stop. You pull away, your eyes swollen. You lick your lips, chapped before pulling back. 

“Thanks for comforting me.” You say, pulling away. You try to anyway.

Bakugou cups your face in his hands. It catches you off guard, the feeling of his calloused palms. He lifts your face, examining you. Your mouth parts in confusion, as you feel his thumb running under your eyes. 

“All fucking wrong. We did this shit all so fucking wrong.” 

“B-Bakugou?” 

He doesn’t let go of you. Just looks for a long time. 

“Bakugou?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

“Why’re you..?” 

“I missed you.” He says in a murmur, soft and uneasy and so regretful it stuns you “I’m so fucking sorry. We whoulda never—I’m gonna kick that shitnerds ass, swear.” 

“You…what?”

He lets go of you, then runs a hand through his hair. 

“You should.. text your friend or whatever. We should talk.” 

Bakugou looks at you apologetically, handing your phone. You watch him disappear into your kitchen, pouring you a glass of water and handing you some tissues. You don’t know what to say, completely dazed. You send Akio a text, making an excuse about a work emergency and saying you’ll drink with him this Saturday. 

Bakugou hands you the glass, leaving your tissues on the coffee table before sitting right where he was. 

For the first time, you’re completely at a loss.

“I don’t understand.” Are the first words out of your mouth. Bakugou gives you a laugh. 

“With the way shits been going, don’t know why you would.” 

“D-Did something happen between you and Midoriya?”

He frowns. 

“Fuck, no. Promise no stupid shit this time. Izuku just told me I should come talk to you.”

“…He did?”

He smiles at you. 

“Yeah, he did. Not like I’m any better at this shit than he is, but he said you weren’t gonna listen to him,” He pauses, turning away from him “Said you never wanted to see him again.”

You look at your lap, listening to the sound of passing cars.

“I thought it’d be for the best. It’s uhm.. It’s hard for me to see either of you. You know,” 

There’s a tense look on Bakugou’s face when he stares at you. You’ve never seen it before.

“…Did you mean what you said to Deku?”

Your throat constricts. 

“A-about?”

“About your feelings. For the both of us, you said—“

You feel your heart race, uncomfortable.

“…Does it matter?”

“Matters a hell of a lot.”

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. Over and over, the word sticks to you. Don’t get greedy. You want to say nothing. To close your eyes and deny it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

You feel your sense of stability crumble the instant the words leave your mouth. Like a sandcastle collapsed under the tide, you melt into unease. 

Your eyes sting with fresh tears that you hurry to wipe away. You don’t even know what they’re for. 

“Hey. Stop, look—it’s not what you think, alright? The feeling is mutual, but you've gotta listen to me.” 

Your eyes widen. Looking up again, you frantically look at his face then shake your head. Did you mishear?

“It’s what?”

“It’s mutual. We both… it’s a lot to explain alright? But from the beginning, it’s been mutual and it wasn’t some freak accident you ended up in our lives. I don’t want you thinkin’ that” 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You shake your head. 

“I don’t…I don’t get it. From the beginning? You say you both have feelings for me, but I haven’t seen you in 7 months. A-and I-Izuku said—” 

Bakugou grits his teeth suddenly. He looks sharp, vicious. 

“Ignore what that half-brained idiot said, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” 

You sit back, unsure of how to proceed. You want to be shocked, or even angry but all you feel is confusion. You fiddle with your hands, and hear Bakugou sigh over his. His voice sounds exhausted. 

“All those months ago, when Izuku and I got into a fight… we were fighting over you.” 

The world comes to a halt. You choke on a gasp of air. Bakugou doesn’t pick his head up to look at you. The sun shadows the shame on his shoulders before you get a minute to speak. His face softens, then regret sifts through. 

He looks tired. Terribly tired. 

“It was because of me. Izuku… he realized how he felt early on. How we both did. He brought it up to me and I just…froze. I didn’t know what to do.” 

You hold your breath as you watch his face. 

“You…?” 

“We fought about it. I blew up on him, and he wouldn’t back down on the whole thing. I was scared outta my mind. Me.. and Izuku - it took us a long time to get where we were.” 

You laugh a little at that, scratching your hand. 

“Yeah I know.” 

He lets out a puff of air. 

“I bet you do. It freaked me out. It wasn’t like… I didn’t realize. We fought and I told him to go fuck off and be with you then. I regretted as soon as I did, but he walked off. Left me alone for a while.” 

You frown. 

“I’m sorry. You didn’t… I didn’t want that for you. I was a-always worried about you.” 

He gives you a light-hearted scoff. 

“I know. I got every call and text, sweetheart. Truth to be told, I would’ve lost my fucking mind if you hadn’t. That whole time.., you were looking out us both. I was still pissed, so I threw myself at my job. Saw Deku and got into some altercations.” 

This surprises you. It makes sense. It’s hard to avoid each other, you’re sure. You wonder why Deku never told you, but all those days he came home extra upset - maybe it was that. 

“I had no idea.” 

“With the way you texted me updates, I figured he didn’t tell you. He’s a shit-head like that. Keeps everything in and then lets it all out. He forgets that he’s a human being sometimes.” 

“It makes sense but…what happened? How’d you get here?” 

“We had a big fight and made up, eventually. I hadn’t really thought about anything. I was working over-time to avoid it, but I was so angry all the time I didn’t feel like myself. Shitty Hair and them kept me calm.” 

“Kirishima cried when he saw me,” You say in a daze. Bakugou laughs. 

“He was pissed at me when I told him everything.” 

“Kirishima was?” 

“You think he’s nice like the rest of ‘em but he’s scary as fuck when he’s mad. He didn’t let me hear the end of it for fucking up. And I’m…sorry for that. For fucking this up.” 

You shake your head at him. 

“I don’t blame you. I still don’t really understand it, but I should’ve pushed him away. My feelings were getting in the way, and I didn’t think about how I was—” 

“Hey. Stop that. Get this through your head, you didn’t do shit. Izuku leaned on you because he fucking cares about you.” 

“But he said—” 

“We’re not complete without each other.” 

Everything stops in an abrupt manner. His words are muddled, like they’ve been shaken around in his heart for much longer than you thought. 

“Izuku doesn’t know his own feelings. He thought that I was right. He thought he just misunderstood himself and he’s always been like that. He’s not good at knowing his own shit.” 

And then, you think you see him cry. You don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen Bakugou Katsuki cry but his eyes look red. 

“We tried. To go back to how things were, we tried so fuckin’ hard sweetheart. You never wanted to see us again and I was too damn stubborn to admit to myself not getting your texts was breaking me. We tried.” 

You swallow the feeling in your throat. You’re so disoriented. 

“And..?” 

“It didn’t work. We couldn’t stop arguing and it wasn’t like before. We were both on edge all the time and we both knew why. Izuku realized his feelings after you left. And I couldn’t deny that the idea of never seeing you again fucking broke me.” 

You don’t think you could cry anymore if you tried, but you manage. 

“I just… it doesn’t feel real. You two have so much history. Without me. A whole life together and there’s no space for me to be involved. You love each other so much, how could you love me too? How could it ever compare?” 

“How could we not fucking love you, sweetheart? All those years together. You kept us grounded for how long? I never knew what it meant.. whatever bullshit Deku talked about saving people. But then we met you and I would’ve done anything to keep you safe.” 

“Katsuki,” 

You don’t even know what to do anymore. What to think or believe.

“Deku loves you to death. I can see it on his face. He loves seeing you with your dumbass cat. He loves listening to you recite lines from movies.”

“And you?” 

“And I’m here trying to convince you I’m still worth your time. I can’t do all that sappy shit. This is all I got.”

“You’re doing fine.” You say with a smile. He smiles back. 

“I feel like I’m gonna puke right now.” He admits. 

“I’m just scared. None of this feels real to me.” 

“When that shitnerd and I got together, I couldn’t get my head around it for 3 days. I was terrified of what that meant for me. Being vulnerable with people is terrifying and I still can’t stand it.” 

“Yeah.” 

“But if I never confronted my fears, I would’ve been alone and blind for the rest of my life. Shit gets bad. You fuck up and fight and things are hard - but it’s way fucking better to fight with people you love than it is to by yourself with your misery. Life got easier when I let myself feel my feelings and whatnot.” 

“You sound really wise.” 

He laughs under his breath. 

“Don’t be a dick.” 

“I’m being serious. You sound so mature and stuff.” 

“And stuff? You been hanging around that college brat way too much.” He says through gritted teeth. You laugh. 

“He’s nice, Katsuki.” 

“He can kiss my fucking ass, corrupting you with his bullshit—” 

“He is not doing that!” 

“You think I don’t see your legs shaven? You’re a shit liar.” 

“It was coincidence. I was gonna sleep with him though.” You say the last part a little quieter. He immediately gets mad again. 

“The hell you are.” 

You give him a smile, crinkling your nose. 

“Jeez, it’s not even your business, you know.” 

He groans. 

“My hearts too weak for that right now, yeah? Be fucking easy on me.” 

You look down at your lap, unsure of what else too. Your voice is hoarse so you reach for the glass on the table. 

“Sorry. Just… processing, I guess.” 

Neither of you talk for a long while. It’s just.. silent. It’s starting to get dark out, but not enough that it’s noticeable. The sunset is just teetering around the skyline. You take a deep long breath, tapping your foot. Picking the skin on your fingers. Fighting the urge to smoke an entire packet, you take a long breath. 

“Hey.” 

You lift your head to look at him. He looks nervous. 

“Is it okay if I… fuck, like would it be okay if I kissed you?” 

You nearly cough up a lung from shock. 

“Would that be okay? Wouldn’t Izuku be—” 

Bakugou gives you a little grin. 

“He got 6 months. He’ll get over it.” 

You squirm a little in your chair heart. Heart-racing. 

“...T-Then, it’d be okay. I guess.” 

“C’mere.” 

You feel shaky when you stand to your feet. Awkward. But as soon as you’re in reaching distance, you feel Bakugou’s hand touch yours. His hands are nice. Smooth and long and nimble but calloused on some parts. Irrevocably warm, when they wrap around your pointer. 

“If I do something you don’t like, headbutt me,” He offers. You frown at him, 

“I’ll tell you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

Without word, you feel him touch you. One hand busies itself with your hands, palms running up the back side of your forearm, then over the top before opening your hands to him.  Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie with it and exposing your skin to cool air. He touches you quietly, thoughtfully passing down until he’s holding your hand. Not with your your fingers intertwined, but cupped against yours in a silent, gentle reprieve. 

The other hand rests on the back of your thigh before brushing behind your knee and staying there. He’s just holding you, and there’s nothing especially risky about it. But it leaves you a mess, enough that you can’t even look at him. 

He tugs you to him. Spreading his legs, shifting to help you into his lap. Like a lamb to shepherd, you follow. Too dazed to protest him, he looks up at you and you look down at him. He brings your hands to his chest, and you slink them around his neck. He leans you forward until you’re only a few inches apart, breath mingling. 

He smells like smoke. You take a deep breath, studying his face before realizing his doing the same to. His eyes are outlining your mouth. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” He tells you. 

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head. 

“You made me like the smell way back. Used to think it was awful.” 

“And now?” 

“Now it makes me lightheaded.” 

“Like you wanna kiss me?” You tease. He takes a deep breath. 

“So fucking bad.” 

“Kiss me, Katuski.” 

“Mm,” 

His mouth is soft. You think that first. Even as your bodies so desperately and almost wholly on instinct, your skin starting to buzzy faintly. It’s so utterly blissful all you can think to feel is that he’s soft. He tastes sweet. His hands are the back of your thighs squeezing tight and you want them forever. You like that he lets you lead a little, and you take pleasure in touching him. 

Squeezing the back of his neck, you thread your fingers gently through his hair. Soft and ticklish against your fingers - he lets out a moan when you squeeze at the root. You did again and he does it one more time. Something warm unfurls in your stomach, starting to unwind like loose thread. 

“You sound pretty like that.” You tell him once you pull away. He shivers. 

“You’re gonna put me in an early grave,” 

“So you’re just gonna let Izuku become number one?” 

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen all day. It looks so familiar on him, your chest feels like it’s being crushed. 

“Not a chance in fucking hell.” 

“That’s the spirit, Katsuki.” 

“Speaking of.. we should probably invite that lewd nerd over here.” He says, burying his face in your neck. You hug him close to your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. He’s gonna cry the whole damn time. Been losing his shit all day.” 

“Poor Izuku.” 

“He’s gonna cry when you call him that too. Cried about being Midoriya for 2 whole days.” 

“He’s such a baby.” 

Bakugo smiles into your neck. 

“I’d cry too.” 

__ 

You wait for Izuku to come back to your apartment at your front door, with Bakugou clinging to your shoulders. 

Nothing much had happened since your kiss. You and Bakugou laid together and made-out to pass the time - watching TV and quietly catching up.  When Izuku sent you a text about being 5 minutes out, you decided to wait at the door to greet him. 

You feel like the whole day has been one long dream. Seeing Izuku, you think, will make it feel more real.

When you hear the nob of your front door turn, you look up at Bakugou with excitement. He looks down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, his voice a soft, excited murmur in your ear. 

“He’s gonna cry right away.” He says, hushed, tone light. Amused. You elbow him. 

“Don’t be mean, Katsuki.” 

Your breath hitches when you do see the door open. He looks a little disoriented when he passes the threshold into your apartment. His dark green curls are messy from the wind and he’s all out of breath like his heart is racing. 

You smile at him as soon as he lifts his head up to look you. His lower lip trembles with immediacy, hands flying up to his face to catch the tears already threatening to spill. You feel Bakugou squeeze a little tighter around your waist, smiling into your neck.

“Welcome home, Izuku.” 

“Oh god.”

You forget how big he is until he runs forward to tackle you both in his arms. You hear Bakugou fuss over you, something about you damn crybaby being mumbled. But more than that, you feel the familiar warmth of Deku. Izuku and Katsuki, all together. He smells like the sun and sweat, , it’s familiar and comfortable. Like home. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his midriff. You melt into the touch, as easy as it always been. 

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I love you.”

When he pulls away, he’s already blubbering. His skin is a blotchy, familiar red and his eyes are watery. He looks down at you like you aren’t real. He’s the tallest of the three of you, so you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him. 

Familiar. Your hands touch base at his chest before running up, cradling his face in your hands. You swipe the tears from him, giving him a biggrin. 

“I missed you, Izuku.” 

“Oh god, oh god—Can I?—Wanna kiss you both so bad, missed you so much, I’m so happy.” 

“Slow down, you idiot. You’re gonna scare ‘em, jeez.” Katsuki says, but his face betrays him. You can see that he wants that too, when you look up. They both look at you expectantly, and you nod. 

Izuku kisses you first. It’s just like him, terribly overwhelmed. He tastes mildly like salt, maybe from all the tears. He grabs your face and presses your lips to you like the world will end if he doesn’t. He does it once, pulls away, and does it two more times just to be safe. You giggle when he pulls away, looking at you in your eyes. 

“We should t-talk properly, but I’m so so sorry, I just—” 

You look at him. The scars all over him. The splattered freckles along the bridge of his nose and his dark lashes. You shake your head. 

“Later,” — You offer, fingers slipping under his shirt — “Need you both.” You say, a little quieter. 

This makes his eyes go wide before he pulls back completely, covering his face with hands. You hear Katsuki laugh behind you. 

“Lewd fucking nerd.” He says, with a terrible amount of affection. Izuku’s voice goes raspy. 

“Shut up, Kacchan.” 

“Oh that’s right. The two of you never went all the way, right?” 

You flush this time.

Katsuki  nips at your neck with his teeth, soft and playful. 

“You’re gonna make him cum in his pants, sweetheart,” 

You feel something tickle in the back of your throat. 

“I thought you weren’t… uhm. You know. Into me.” You admit. Izuku’s eyes widen so far his brows touch his hairline. Katsuku shake with laughter behind you. 

“You got no idea how fucking gross he is. Haah, that’s funny. Not into you my ass.” 

“Kacchan!” 

Before you register it, Katsuki whispers in your ears. They’re making eye-contact with each other with you sandwiched in the middle. They’re both so much. Too much for any one person to handle, you don’t know how you’re going to do it. 

Katsuki’s voice is smug. 

“Reach your hand out. Go on,” 

You do as he says, convinced you should. You want to. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before but never fully. You never really did anything, you just… 

You touch it. Touch him. Your whole body goes hot as you feel something heavy in the palm of your hand. thick. It twitches against the material of his pants. Above you, Izuku shudders. His whole body shakes slightly. 

“I didn’t even…”

“You think I call him ‘lewd nerd’ for fun. He’s a pervert, sweets. It’s just how it is.”

Your heart races. Fuck, what are you getting yourself into right now? 

But it feels right. And with the both of them over you, the warmth of their bodies and strong forms - you can’t help but want to fall into it. You close your eyes, look up and glancing at both of them. 

“I wanna do it.” You whisper, low. You feel your skin prickle with heat. Izuku groans and Katsuki chuckles. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

__

From the moment you stumble in your bedroom, everything around sort of disappears. 

You’re quick to lock the door behind you, to ensure your cat doesn’t follow you but the moment you’re in - you’re practically surrounded. The energy alone is enough to melt your spine. Izuku carries you in his arms and Katsuki trails behind you, giving you a vicisious grin that makes you wetter than you know to handle. 

It’s all very messy and desperate, trying to situate yourself into the bed. They keep you in the middle the entire time. At times like these, you’re grateful for the investment you made in your firm mattress. The two of them alone take up so much of the once roomy king-sized you find it hard to breathe. 

You’re sitting on your legs with Katsuki mirroring you, behind you. Izuku hovers over you like a shadow. Your head feels jumbled with everything surrounding you. The first thing you feel is the shape of Katsuki’s mouth. His lips are tender and soft, pressing into your shoulder blade. You let out a fluttery little sigh, unsure of what to do. 

It’s disorienting as much as it’s hot. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, two people who are wholly enigmatic without each other. Together you’re like stars colliding. Or maybe, yu’re the world between them, keeping them at bay - squeezed by the matter of their existence. Katsuki’s hand travel under your t-shirt, his hands squeezing your waist. 

Izuku tilts your head up to kiss you first, then reach over your shoulder kissing Katsuki. You think, sometimes, you like seeing them kiss more than you like being kissed on your own.

“You’re so pretty… She’s so pretty, right Kacchan?” 

He does an affirmative hum behind you. Heat rips through you, as Bakugou’s hands reach up. He cups your tits, bare underneath the fabric of your shirt. His chest rumbles with a groan, thumb, and pointer tweaking your nipples till they're hard. You let out a soft mewl. 

“Fuck.. fuck look at that.” 

He’s not talking to you, but to Izuku who’s watching you both with a shadowy expression. His eyes suddenly look dark. Terribly and utterly focused on your tits, where your nipples peek through your cotton white t-shirt. You would’ve worn something cute if you had the time. Thank god you showered at all, though you don’t think either of them would care. 

Instead of answering, Izuku tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You feel Katsuki behind you, lifting the material up. They work together well. You raise your hands to let it to taken off, feeling shy you try to tuck your chin. Izuku’s quick to draw you back, using his hand to turn your head with a gentle force. He’s soft, but authoritative. It shakes you to your core. 

“Hey. None of that okay. Keey your eyes on us.” 

“What he said, sweetheart.” 

You gasp a little as your bare skin touches the cold air. Goosebumps raise in patches all over your body. 

At a loss for words, your eyes follow Izuku in his movements. How he scoots back on the bed, then dips his head down. His mouth is a surprise - he kisses down your sternum and with no warning at all - gropes your chest like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. 

It’s different from before. The way he squeezes them in his palms, pushes them together, watches them move and spill between his finger. He’s taking his time to explore you with the single-minded focus he always gets. His tongue planes over the hardened buds, around the creased skin before sucking the whole thing into his mouth. 

You throw your head back, mouth open in a quiet gasp. Katsuki slowly slides your hands over your navel, across your stomach. Around your middle, his fingers fidget with the waist-band of your shorts, before dipping into the line. Your thighs squeeze instinctively, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

It’s too much. You whimper a little as Izuku pays attention to your tits, your body flaring upr. Izuku is shameless in wanting you. His eyes are so focused on your every move, and his hands feel so impossibly big. It feels like he could eat you, swallow you - the way he touches you so shamelessly. 

You’re so aroused.  Wet enough that it’s soaking your cotton panties all the way through. It’s humiliating when Katsuki touches just over the seam, how his finger soaks on the damp spot. 

“You’re making her so wet, nerd.” 

“Really, Kacchan?” 

“Fuck, yeah. She’s soaked. Feel good?” 

The last part is talking to you. Izuku rubs your nipples with his thumbs, hands cradling your sides when you nod,

“Feels good.” You say back, halfway panting. You open your eyes up to look over at Izuku, then look back to Katsuki “I want you guys to take it off. Too many clothes.” 

Katsuki laughs behind you, and you feel him pull away. Izuku places a kiss on your hairline. You scoot over, away from them, and watch them as you get undressed.

Your eyes land on Katsuki first. You’ve seen Izuku naked before, almost completely. You’d never seen Katsuki, so you watch. He catches you staring, giving you a little smirk before he turns over to you. 

“You’re a freak too. Gettin’  off on watching me strip.”

You lean back on your palms. 

“Should I tip you?” 

He laughs. 

“Fuck off.” 

He takes it off a little more deliberately. Your eyes follow the curves in his body. The two of them are so stupidly jacked. Katsuki is a little leaner in his make up. His strength is concentrated in his back muscles and his arms. You see it when he reaches over his head. He’s lithe, smooth everywhere else but his arms are pure and almost brutish. It’s so sexy on him. There’s only one big scar on his body that you already know the story of. 

You don’t even realize you’re staring at him until you hear his voice, smug as he calls you over. 

“You wanna touch it?” 

You nod, a little sheepish about being caught. Crawling over to him, you’re standing on your knee.. Izuku watches the two of you, out of the corner of his eyes. His lower lip is tugged, pressed under his teeth. 

You let your fingers do the guiding. You start at his waist. He looks at you, intent. He’s artwork, you fight the urge to treat him rough - your fingers tracing over his obliques. Gently grabbing him, you trace all the way up the natural lines of his body, Even without flexing, you can see his physique. Your palms plane over the muscle of his back and arms before curling around his shoulders. 

“You’re arms are so nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

“And you’re…” 

Words escape you when you look down. His chest.. fuck. Katsuki is pale everywhere. His nipples are pink against his skin, noticeably bright. The cold season makes him pale where as Izuku is always tan. His chest is so fucking big. It’s so distracting you lose whatever you want to say. Your hands drop then reach forward, and without so much as a choice - you squeeze the fat of his chest between your fingers just like Izuku had been before. 

Izuku comes up behind you. The two of them share a look you don’t have the mind to pay attention  to. 

“Kacchan has nice tits, doesn’t he?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Deku.”

Your mouth feels so dry. 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“They’re sensitive.” Izuku tells you, voice thick. Revenge, or something along those lines. It piques your interest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Flick them. He likes it.” 

When you look at Katsuki’s face it’s strained. A warm shade of pink dances over every inch of his exposed skin, and he’s holding his breath. Oh, you think. He wants this. 

You flick his nipples and watch as his whole body crumbles forward. He drops his head on his shoulders, as you tweak and play with them. His voice is raspy, teeth gritted. 

“Fuck, y-you’re evil. Fuck, there.”

“Pick your head up, Kat.” 

He does so. He looks.. soft. Pretty. His eyes are a little glassy. You lean forward, letting your mouth close around one of his tits. He cries out, wobbly. Izuku is quick to keep him steady, hands reaching around to his hips. 

“You learn fast.” 

You hum sucking on each of them. Katsuki is a mess over you. His body is so hot, and you can see his cock against his clothes. You stay like that, the three of you stood on your knees with just enough space to tease and touch. Your body relishes the contact, mind-swimming. You indulge your desires to explore, tentatively testing the boundaries. 

You pull away briefly saliva making his tits shiny. He looks at you, dazed. 

“Can I leave marks on either of you?” 

“Freak.” Katsuki says. You flush. 

“Should be fine. Kacchan is wearing his winter costume, anyway.” 

You nod your head, then let your tongue lave over Katsuki’s neck before biting and sucking. You leave it a little under the collar, low enough to be easily covered. He lets out a soft hiss. 

“You’re so touchy with me. Gonna leave Izuku out to dry?” 

You laugh, rubbing your cheek into his pec. Grabbing his ass, he gives you a little scowl but doesn’t tell you to stop. 

“I never got to touch you. I touched Izuku at least.” 

You feel Izuku’s chin on your shoulder. 

“Kacchan’s right though, I feel neglected.” 

Izuku’s arm closes around your waist. You turn your head slightly, enough to see him behind him. 

“You want a hickey too?” 

Izuku buries his face in your neck. 

“Mm, maybe,” 

“Are you both usually this needy?” You ask amused.

“You would be too if you were us, y’know?” 

You think on what he’s said. Surrounded by the warmth of their bodies, you laugh. 

“You had each other,” You tease. Katsuki scoffs and Izuku sounds like he’s whining. They’re both cute when they act like that. 

“Like you didn’t have your fucking boy-toy.” Katsuki spits, petty jealousy clear in his voice. Izuku suddenly gets very tense and pulls away. 

The utter devastation in his voice makes you feel a little bad, but another part of you feels vindicated and kinda happy they care. You hide a smile. 

“...Are you seeing someone else?” 

“If I was?” 

Izuku makes a face you can only describe as heartbroken, making you burst out in laughter. 

“Izuku, I was just kidding! Stop looking so sad.” 

“You’re so mean.” 

To think you could bring the number one hero in the country to tears fills you with silent pride. Katsuki pipes up behind you. 

“She was gonna fuck him. Her legs are all shaved.” 

Izuku gasps scandalized. 

“Who even is he?!” 

“A college boy,” You interject, dropping your head onto his shoulder “He was flirting with me when I went to buy cigarettes. Akio.” 

Izuku frowns deep and frustrated. 

“Sounds like a jackass.” 

“He’s a nice kid, Katsuki. I’m still gonna get drinks with him on Saturday, anyway.” 

Two voices shout at you at once. 

“What?” 

“The fuck?” 

You break out into a fit of giggles. 

“I promised I would if he studied.” 

“And you’re gonna go and tell the kid that you’ve got two great boyfriends at home right?” 

You grin a little. The possession in Katsuki’s voice is tangible. Izuku is silent but you can practically feel the frustration off him. You hum, pretending to think. 

“Is that what you two are?” 

“You’re so fucking evil, baby. Evil.” 

You shrug. 

“Dunno. The role of ‘significant other’ was vacant for a long time. Think I should give it up so easily?” 

Katsuki sits up, leaning forward and trapping you between them. Your heart leaps. 

“Wanna know what I think?” 

You nod, Katsuki’s eyes sharpen. 

“I think it’s a bad idea to provoke two heroes who could run laps around you, yeah?” 

You look up at him, smiling. 

“All that stamina should be put to good use, then. Earn your title, heroes. Sound good?” 

“You’re such a tease.” Izuku rasps behind you. You look up to see him, eyes cloudy. 

“I’m nice to boys who deserve it.” You say on a whim. Both of them react in a way you can’t predict, shock first then lust right after.

“Need you now.” Izuku says through a breath. 

“How do you want me?” 

“Want you to sit on my face. Want Kacchan to suck my cock.” 

The way he says it makes you reel. You look at Katsuki. He looks.. obedient. It’s the only way you can think to call it. Excited. Your insides twitch. 

“Fuck.” You groan “I want that.” 

“Kacchan?” 

“Shut up and take your dick out, nerd.” 

His demeanors cools you off a little, but it’s not enough to stop the anticipation growing. The three of you suddenly move in haste. There’s enough room to move around, bed creaking as everyone adjusts to comfort. You watch Izuku lay down flat on the bed, the whole thing dipping under the weight of his body. You’ve seen him naked before, but it’s always a sight to behold. His whole body is covered in freckles, dense around his shoulders and his thighs. 

He’s strong everywhere. As jacked as someone at his height could be, to deal with the burden of his quirk. Even so, the strongest part of him are his legs. Thick, muscular thighs that make your whole body go alight. He’s covered in scars of different sizes, smaller around his waist and middle. Dense on his arms and chest. 

There’s hair on his stomach and over his pecs. Above his cock, well-trimmed and neat. 

You feel your mouth go dry seeing Izuku’s cock sitting between his legs. You’ve never.. not like this. Your eyes are focus on it, trailing down the line. He isn’t cut, and the tip is darker than the rest. It does a hard curve left.

It’s so thick. Your stomach does a flip ar how unfathomable it is just looking at it. 

“Nerd’s fucking hung, isn’t he?” 

“You’re so big, Izuku. How do you even…?” 

“You scared?” 

You nod soft, and the both of them laugh. 

“Worry about it later. Want you to sit on my face.” Izuku tells you. His tone is so agreeable, crushing your remaining barriers. Welcoming. You squirm a little thinking about taking it, but resign yourself to his request. You crawl over to him, situating your thighs on either side of his face. 

Katsuki observers you for a minute before sitting between Izuku’s legs. You can tell from his confidence that he’s done it a hundred times before. There’s something about the position, the feeling that you’re getting off on each other that has your core feeling tight. Izuku puts his hands on the tops of your thighs. 

For the first time, you’re fully at a loss. Katsuki gives you a grin when he realizes what you’re thinking. Your eyes are glued to his form, his physique. The curves of is body when he gets on his knees and arches up. Your heart thuds against your ribs desperately. The blood is rushing into your ears, your hand tingles with nerves.

Izuku must know where you’re focusing too, because his hands gently squeeze the tops of your thighs. He doesn’t take you down, or even move. His breath fans against your sticky cunt.

“Wanna see me suck cock so bad?” 

Whatever over takes you is unspeakable. He just makes it sounds so good. The words die off in your mouth. You’re so wet, hyperfocused on the visual. Katsuki wraps his hands around the base of Izuku’s cock, and from under you there’s a moan. The realization hits all at once like a bulldozer leveling a city. You find yourself sinking under the crushing realization of what you’re doing. They’re pleasuring you, and each other. All together. 

The thought alone makes your head spin. 

“Keep your eyes on me. Don’t close ‘em, since you wanna be a fuckin’ pervert. And nerd,” 

“Hn?” 

“Don’t let her cum if I tell you she’s closin’ her eyes.” 

You can feel his smile under you. 

“Good idea, Kacchan.”

You gasp. Mumble something about them being evil, but the words don’t register. Without another minute of hesitation, Izuku all but drags you down to him. 

The moment you feel Izuku dart his tongue out, you think the world from under you falling. You want, desperately, to close your eyes. It’s not like you’ve never had someone go down on you. 

But Izuku isn’t just eating you out. He isn’t even really doing it for you. There’s a drunkeneness to it that has your thighs squeezing around his head. His hair tickles your skin and you’re so close you’re sure you’re suffocating him.  His arms secure themselves around your thighs until you’re trapped in his grip. His tongue is gentle for a briefly,  if only to welcome you the sensation.

 But right after, with only a second between, he sucks his clit into the heat of his mouth. It’s so shameless it startles you. Your jaw hangs open, and your eyes squeeze shut. Your facing forward. You can feel the ridges of his nose, the point of his chin as the full weight of your body drops onto his face. Your hands fly forward, splaying on his chest to give yourself some semblance of balance. 

Izuku moves like he isn’t thinking about anything other than tasting you. The drag of his tongue, muscles moving against your clit makes your toes curl. You bite your lip to cut off the sounds threatening to leave you only to give up minutes later. 

“Ngh, ‘zuku—” 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” 

You struggle but listen. Blearily, you set your focus on Katsuki. The feeling of Izuku and his ruthlessness adds to your delirium. Suspended, you watch Katsuki work Izuku’s cock and feel like you might really die. The visual impact is enough to send you tipping over an edge more quick you ever have in your life and the intoxicated way Izuku’s latched onto your pussy makes you feel like giving in. 

Katsuki is watching you back. This stuns you the most of anything. His eyes, red and fixed, are hard and looking at the place where your pussy meets Izuku’s chin. Even as he swallows around his cock, he’s looking at you. Meeting your gaze as he slides is tongue under the swollen head of his cock, flicking the tip. He’s only got one hand, placed carefully on Izuku’s thigh for balance. 

But the other is fisted around his cock. His cock. Long, pink, leaking in his palms. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Izuku moans under you, into you. Submerged in the feeling of euphoria, you let out a pathetic cry. Katsuki watches you. His gaze is like splitting atoms, an impossibility happening infront of your eyes. All at once, you take everything in to process. You take Katsuki dipping his head down, his pinks lips stretching around Izuku’s cock. His eyes, stuck on your silhouttete as he takes it down the base without so much as a gag - the drool dripping down onto his chin in the same way you’re doing into Izuku’s face. 

You take in the sight of him pulling off, mesmirzed by how much he’s taken. How good he is, how sloppy. Izuku is too, and something occurs in your head that maybe this is another way they mirror each other. The messy way Izuku eats your pussy, with his tongue and the whole of his mouth. With ridiculous fervor, with hazy determination. 

You can’t take your eyes off of Katsuki. You’re consumed by the way they both make you feel, and you want to reach across to kiss him. Leaning forward, you rock your hips against Izuku’s tongue. 

You want to kiss him. You’re going to kiss him. 

“Katsuki,” You breathe out, voice broken. You rut yourself against Izuku’s face again this time, harder, clit rubbing hard against his tongue. He lets out an appreciative little moan, that encourages you chase your own high. 

Balancing on Izuku with one hand and leaning forward, you reach your other one around Katsuki’s neck.

You kiss him. Over Izuku’s cock at first then around. The realization of what’s happening makes him moan into your mouth. Finger tangled in the blonde hair, you kiss him with tongue. The gesture is utterly absent minded. It’s greedy. You can’t help but want everything all at once and being apart from him is making you agitated. 

You make out around Izuku’s cock after you feel sorry enough. Fucking yourself into his mouth, hips rocking - you take it upon yourself to join Katsuki. Whenever Izuku feels it, his fingers dig into your legs. Little crescent shaped indentations appear from how hard he’s gripping, how much he’s whining against your cunt and sending waves through you. 

You’re so turned on, it’s hard to clear your head. Riding Izuku’s face with complete disregard, helping Katsuki suck his cock. The both of you around his shaft, trying to kiss each other while pre-cum stains the exchange. Everything feels like it’s blurry, like a motion shot - a picture taken with a moving subject.  

You’ve held out for so long - you don’t have a chance to warn Izuku as an orgasm approaches you a full, frightening speed. Raggedly, you cry out his name. Katsuki groans, stopping to fix his eyes on your face. 

Izuku makes a sound of appreciation, helping you fuck onto his tongue in the rhythm you did before. You hold yourself just barely. 

All at once, with everything fibre of your being - you find yourself cumming. It doesn’t feel like any orgasm you’ve ever had before, not ever in your life. Like a bow and arrow, your entire body goes taut before the string snaps hard. All the muscles in your body freeze then release, the tension replaced with an unending wave of euphoria. 

It feels so fucking good. So good you can’t breathe. 

“O—Oh, fuck. Fuuh, fuck.” 

You cum and can’t stop. Even as you try to pry yourself off, Izuku holds you down. They both stop in their motions, glued to you. Something warm and desperate starts to rush. A warbled warning comes out of you. 

“I-Izuku, it’s—” 

All at once, you lean completely bacl another brief wave of release hits. You can feel it. Fuck, you’re—

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” 

You reel all the way back as you squirt into Izuku’s mouth - left to listening to him swallow it down. An audible gulp sends your stomach in knots, and you nearly fall. If Izuku wasn’t holding you, you would’ve. 

You collapse forward again, this time completely. Wiggling your hips away. 

Izuku lets go of you. Gasping for a breath of air immediately as you pull away, you see his cock twitch. Your cheek pressed against his navel, you take a minute to collect yourself. 

“Oh my god. You two are going to kill me.” 

The room is almost completely silent. 

“...Have you ever?” 

“I didn’t even know I could do that.” 

Muffled underneath you, you hear Izuku. 

“Can I please get a warning the next time the two of you  decide to go at me at once? I almost came.” Izuku whines. You share a look with Bakugou before breaking out into laughter. 

“Be fucking grateful nerd, Fuck that was so hot. You have a mean streak, sweetheart. Pulling my fucking hair.” 

You laugh shakily. 

“You suck dick like a champ, Katsuki.” 

He snorts. 

“Shut up.” 

For a minute, silence stretches between you. You squirm slightly, before frowning.  Appreciative it’s comfortable despite the intense emotions left to linger. 

“I was the only one who came.” You say thoughtfully. 

“To be fair I almost did. I was flexing my muscles to stop.” Izuku admits. You giggle at the bit of honesty. 

“Katsuki… wanna make you cum. Both of you, but it doesn’t feel fair,” 

“I had fun, don’t worry. I dunno about the nerd, but I do wanna fuck you.” 

Even after doing something so insanely sexual, a flush crawls up your spine. 

“I..I want you to fuck me.” 

“Wanna fuck you too,” Izuku says underneath you. You wiggle your hips, closing your eyes. You feel a little guilty, even suggesting it. 

You flop onto your back, pulling away from Izuku. With your legs kicked up, you cover your face with your hands about what you want to suggest. 

“I… uhm. The both of you could.. fuck me at once. If you wanted to.” 

You’re almost too afraid of opening your eyes when you hear Katsuki pipe up. 

“Holy shit, are you serious?” 

You roll over, away from them. You try to anyway. 

Before you know what’s happening, Izuku is sitting up. Like you weightless than piece of paper, he flips you over and grabs you until you’re situating his lap. Katsuki sits up, behind you. His chest is pressed against your spine. The two of them look at you hard but you keep covering your face. 

Izuku swallows the spit in his mouth, starting at you. 

“Do you mean.. like.. the both of us? At once?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“...You ever taken it in the ass before, sweetheart? Shit aint easy,” Katsuki says in something akin to earnesty. 

You laugh warmly. 

“In college.” 

Katsuki snorts. 

“Fucking really? With your dweeb ass boyfriend?” 

“Kacchan.” Izuku tsks, though you’re sure they share the same sentiment. You nod. 

“Anyway, I have. A-and it.. that way we’d all be super close, yknow?” 

Katsuki groans. 

“Fucking hell,” 

“What Kacchan said.” Izuku says, blowing an amused puff of air through this nose.

“It’s not a big deal,” You grumble. Katsuki laughs. 

“Hearing our newly acquired significant other say they want us to D.P. them is a big deal, idiot.”

“You’re so vulgar.” 

Izuku smiles at you both fondly, absently reaching a hand out. He cups Katsuki’s face in his palm, looking down at you. 

“We have to prep you really well. And if it’s too painful at any point, you have to tell me or Kacchan, Okay?” 

“Mm…Okay. Love you, Izuku.” 

He splutters. Katsuki clicks his teeth behind you. 

“Love you too, Katsuki. Love you both so much.” 

“We love you too,” Izuku says, alreacdy on the verge of tears. Katsuki laughs. 

“What the nerd said.”

You relish in each others company for a while, soft and leaning into each other. After everyone’s caught their breath, Izuku pats your thigh. 

“Do you have lube?” Izuku asks. You laugh, nodding. 

“Top drawer of my vanity.” 

Izuku pressed a kiss to your temple, getting up. 

“Okay. Get comfortable and lay down, Kacchan, lay with her.” 

“Not the boss of me, shitnerd.” 

Despite himself, Izuku gets up to get your things and Katsuki does as he asks. You get yourself comfortable in the bed and your blonde boyfriend follows suit. He lays down close to you, turned slightly to face you. 

He puts a hand out, running his middle finger along your jaw until your face is pointed to him. The proximity is comforting, your eyes following his lips. It’s an awfully  tender gesture when he kisses you, softly pressing his lips to yours. You make a little sound of approval into his mouth, making him grin. 

“Nervous?” 

“A little. Two at once is a lot” 

He snorts. 

“I bet. Just relax yeah. We’ll start with the hard part. Should make it easier.” 

You give him a little smile, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“You make anal sound very romantic.” 

“You fucking saps are rubbing off on me. Do you know how you want us?” 

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment. It’s not like you don’t have an answer. 

“I want you inside and Izuku in.. y’know.” 

He gives you a playful grin. 

“You a masochist or something?” 

“Shut up,” You say weakly, tucking your chin “Just seems like something he’d be into.”  

“Guess you’re not wrong about that,” 

Like you’ve conjured him from thin air, Izuku returns to your bed with a familiar  bottle of lube and some condoms. His face looks unusually red as you watch him get back on the mattress, settling in between your spread legs. 

“Izuku?” 

He stops for a minute, startled. 

“You… have so many sex toys.” He says. Your eyes widen before you break out into a laugh. You thought you’d be embarrassed if anyone ever saw but for some reason, you mostly find it funny. 

“You serious nerd?” 

“More than the two of us combined, Kacchan,” 

Katsuki turns to look at you, leaning in to give you a giggly kiss. 

“Nasty.” 

“It slipped my mind, You found what you were looking for though, right?” 

He gives you a nod, holding up a bottle of lube - nearly full. You ran out a couple of weeks ago.

Izuku puts a palm underneath your knee, your breath hitching. He looks at you seriously for a minute, thumb rubbing a circle into your skin. He gives you a look. 

“Tell me if it hurts. I’m gonna go really slow, ‘kay? And Kacchan, keep her comfy.” 

“Got a good idea for that,” Katsuki says. You look at him curiously. 

“Keep your eyes on us, sweetheart.” 

Nodding, you lift your legs a little higher. You hold yourself up, nails pressed into the back of your thighs. Just like Katsuki insists on, you keep your eyes on Izuku. He looks determined as he flicks the lid open. The lube is shiny as it pours onto his fingers in a thick, clear stream. Warming it up, he looks down. You’re conscious of his gaze, the way you’re so bare and exposed. You can feel how spread out you are because of the position. 

Izuku rubs the ring of muscle first, before doing anything else. You squirm at the sensation. It’s not unpleasant, but it isn’t pleasant either. It just feels a little intrusive as he touches it, rubbing along the creased skin. 

“Relax, love. Don’t think about it.” 

You try to follow his words, so you turn your attention to Katsuki. He gives you a mild look before you feel his hand reach out, groping your tits before sliding his palm down your body, squeezing you gentle. 

“When he pushes in, take a deep breath and exhale. And don’t worry about anything else.” 

You nod, feeling him inch closer to you. He kisses you this time, soft. His hand keeps going lower and lower until you feel a finger against your puffy clit. It aches from his fingers. You try not to move. 

“Good?” Katsuki asks.

“Little more to the left, please.” 

He hums at the feedback and does as you ask, rubbing your clit just enough to take your mind off of everything. You find yourself relaxing involuntarily from the pleasure. While your head is busied with it, he kisses you. Engages you in making out, taking time to suck on your tongue in the way he’s learned you like. It’s a messy kiss, too drooly than you think someone like him would be comfortable with. 

But the contact feels good, feels nice. Your pussy responds to each of his gestures noticably, a dull throb growing inside from the ache. You want to be fucked, and you’d take it in whatever way you can have.

“Don’t squirm, baby.” Katsuki says, pulling away from you in a pant. 

“Hard,” You say simply. He laugh, biting the roundest part of your cheek. 

“Sooner you’re prepped, sooner we can fuck you.” 

“Gonna push in okay? Take a deep breath.” 

You nod. Katsuki keeps you steady, breathing with you as you feel Izuku push in his middle finger in. It’s a just barely there sensation. You’re expecting some pain, but there’s nothing more than a dull sense of discomfort. You let out a long, deep breath, until you feel him reach the first knuckle. The prep is relatively uninteresting, but you can feel a stretch. A mild, sensitive feeling of invasion. 

But it feels.. dirty? Forbidden, somehow and that’s making your breath hitch. The both of them are staring so hard at you. Katsuki keeps rubbing your pussy to keep you at bay. You hiccup.

“Okay?” 

You nod. 

“Doesn’t hurt. Just feels… funny.” You say. Izuku breathes a sigh before he very slow pulls the finger out of you. Your heart pulses, a sense of relief when he takes it out that leaves you curious. Your eyes widen. Katsuki takes notice of your expression. 

“Feels nice?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

Izuku goes a little faster this time, a little harder. When the motion is fluid, he’s careful to add another finger. You feel lube drip down onto your ass, the thick and sticky sensation. Katsuki leans into you. 

“Deep breath,” 

You listen, breathing deep as another finger joins him. This time the stretch is more noticeable. Izuku leans forward, kissing your knee where you’re holding it up. 

“Pretty little hole,” Izuku muses. Your eyes go wide from embarrassment when you hear Katsuki snicker at you.  Izuku doesn’t stop his mumbling, fixed on how your fingers suck him in “Can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Lost in a haze, his eyes flick up to you with a smile. It’s so disarming it startles you. You lean back. 

“Okay, baby?” 

“You’re s-so dangerous.” 

He frowns. 

“Why do you say that?” 

Katsuki scoffs above you, making you feel marginally better. You take another breath as he repeats the motions of before, slowly fucking into you. You feel your ass give as you get comfortable, your body no longer instinctively resisting the sensation. You feel yourself stretch and stretch and stretch, but it doesn’t feel the same as being torn open. There’s something strangely familiar about the gesture. 

Katsuki touches you through it. Teases your clit with his fingers and brings you to the edge, always stopping before you can cum. Despite your protest, you get the feeling it’s to help you cum while you’re getting fucked but not before then. You let out soft little moans of pleasure and the way Izuku is starting to fuck you open on his fingers is finally starting to feel like something besides funny. 

You look down at Izuku, who gives you a half smile. Something deep in you aches, it’s a sensation you haven’t felt in a long time. Bone-deep desire to be fucked and filled and close together leaves you oddly emotionaly. 

“You, okay? Think you’re ready?” 

You feel yourself squirm against Katsuki’s hand, who’s busied himself by cupping your pussy with his palm.

“I’m ready. Want you in my ass, and Katsuki in me,” You tell him. His eyes widen before he lets an involuntary groan. Sometimes his predictability is charming in it’s own way. 

“Yeah.. yeah. Then let Kacchan get underneath you, and I’ll get on top. Sound okay?” 

“Mm,”

It takes a minute to switch positions again but eventually you end up where you want. Katsuki lays comfortably on the mattress, head propped up on some pillows. Rubbing his cock with one hand lazily, he gives you smirk. 

“Hop on?” 

“Oh fuck you,” 

A laugh bubbles out of you as you crawl ontop of him, throwing your legs on either side of his hips. You hover over his cock, getting comfortable as you feel his hands grab your ass and squeeze, pulling them apart without shame. He’s got the same look as always, a cocky looking smile as he pivots his hips and rubs the head of his cock against your folds. Shuddering, you wrap your hand around the base. 

“Sure you don’t need prep?” 

You nod your head, biting your lip as you guide the head of his cock down a little lower. You feel Izuku behind you. 

“No condom?” 

“Wanna feel it.” You reply. Katsuki groans under as you guide the head to your entrance. You take a deep breath as you start to sink yourself on it. Going as slow as possible to make sure it doesn’t hurt, Katsuki does a hard hiss underneath you. His head tilts back, mouth open in loud moan. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as you finally push yourself to the last inch. 

When you bottom out you sigh, the familiar and pleasant sensation starting to ensnare you. Eyes heavy, you look at Katsuki who looks like he’s having a hard time keeping his head above water. Your hands go on  his chest. 

“Katsuki?” 

“I’ve never—holy shit—” 

“You’ve never done it like this?” 

“Bakugou lost his virginity to Kirishima and I lost mine to Ochako. So he’s never…” 

Unable to help your shock, an idea pops into your head as you lean forward. He feels so fucking good. He’s got a curve just upright that sits nicely inside of you, keeps you full and touches you in all the right ways. Beneath you he’s trembling, unable to shake the feeling. 

“Katsuki,” You purr, breathy as you lift your hips up. “Does that feel good?” 

“H-Holy fuck. Fuck, baby—you’re so wet. Feels like you’re gonna melt me,” 

With a little effort, you do an intentional squeeze around him. His eyes shoot open, gasping for air. 

“D-Don’t—You little shit. Squeezing me like that, stupid brat.” 

He holds your hips down where you stop, giving you a look that’s only half angry. 

“I’m just making you feel good.” You maintain. His hand comes down on your ass hard, making you laugh. 

“You can make me feel good without trying to milk me, fucksake. Slow down and let Izuku in,” 

You give him smile, leaning forward. Katsuki gets what you’re trying to do almost immediately. His hands squeeze your ass again, this time spreading you apart intentionally. You can only see from the corner of your eye because you’re squished into Katsuki’s chest - bare chest on his. But Izuku shoots off a deep, guttural groan as Katsuki offers him a smile. You feel his chin atop your head. 

“Don’t make her wait long, dweeb.” 

It happens just like that. Izuku approaches you, cock in hand and situates behind the two of you. You take in a deep breath when you feel the tip protruding against your hole. Everything… halts. Like the sound of something, a faint quiet before everything hits the ground running. You’re already stretched, already full with cock. Your head can’t wrap around taking anymore but still, Izuku persists. He grabs you with great strain, and pushes his cock into the tight ring with a choked cry. 

All three of you react to the feeling. He’s not even all the way in, but the deep sensation and pressure has you reeling already. Katsuki lets out a yelp. The both of them are grabbing you, anchoring themselves as Izuku pushes himself just barely inside. A tight fit wouldn’t even begging to describe it. You feel plugged up completely, from the inside. 

“C-Can I…? Can I please—” 

“Move, Izuku, move.” 

And he does. He does it slowly, at an awfully slow pace like he’s trying to keep you all the way together. Brain full of static, you’re absolutely fucking astounded. He pushes in a little more, and the heavy weight of his cock feels like it’s sinking. You can feel his cock against Katsuki’s inside of you. They both feel it at the same time because underneath Katsuki is twitching. Letting out pants, face strained and absolutely fucking out of it. 

The room is filled with a wet, sticky sort of noise as Izuku moves himself. He checks in, pushes when you confirm, and does it for what feels like ages until you feel his navel against you. He’s inside of you, completely inside of you. You feel… complete. It’s so fucking unbelievable. It feels like being torn apart, ripped in half. A sensation you couldn’t imagine existing. 

All while feeling incredible. It’s deep enough to push the air out of you, out of your lungs in a ragged breath. Your body goes limp, sweaty between the two of them. 

“Baby, baby, you feel incredible and K-Kacchan, can f-feel Kacchan in, Kacchan’s cock you, feels so good, love you both, love you so much—wanna move, can I? Can I move baby, need to—” 

“Fuck me,”

Like they do everything, they work together in sync so seamlessly in breaks you. Katsuki gives Izuku room to thrust first, letting him control the pace to make sure you’re not hurt. The feeling of his big cock, fucking your ass when you’re already so hopelessly full, is making your body feel completely limp. Every single nerve of pleasure that could be touched or toyed with is being rubbed against. Pleasured from the inside out, your mouth is fallen open in a silent scream. 

You’re all so close. You’re face is tucked into Katsuki’s neck where you can hear his every breath or moan or cry. Izuku is draped over you, his chin over your shoulder - mouth against your neck and licking the sweat off of your skin. One of your hands is on Katsuki’s chest, and the other is reaching around for Izuku - for something of him to hold onto. Your vision is blurry, and the world outside is finally starting to sink into the night.

 Room painted in an vibrant orange daylight, you’re soaked in pleasure that feels hedonistic. The violent waves of pleasure leave you feeling like kindling - the thing that makes fires burn. The first time you cum from this, you don’t register it completely. The bliss of the experience isn’t concentrated. You feel the dull throb of desire - starting from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. 

You cum, the first time, without any intention. The forces around make it happen and the way you squeeze makes both men have to stop completely as you ride out your high - the feeling of it overshadows your first orgasm. 

It’s an out-of-body experience. You start to see your vision go white, and when you’re finished - you feel the two of them start to fuck you again. This time it’s slower, more deliberate as they try to drag the feeling out.

Izuku wraps a hand around your waist, sticks between your body and Katsukis. You feel his fingers on your clit, wincing. His voice is soothing, gentle. 

“I love you. Want us all to cum together. I love you so much. We’re so close. One more, okay? Just one more.” 

“I love you, sweetheart. Love you too, nerd. Give us one more. Together?” 

You don’t know what it is. It’s a weird fucking time to get all emotional, all worked up into nothing. Still, you find yourself nodding. It’s a strange time to think you’re so in love but you’re so worked up, so blissful like you’re being cradled by the golden threads of the sun. Warm all over your body in as much measure as you’re burning with lust. The feeling of their bodies, of Katuski placing kisses on your skin and Izuku pressing himself to your cheek. 

Izuku panics when you cry, but you reassure him that you’re fine. And you are fine, completely and utterly fine. There’s just something terrifying about being loved at such a magnitude - being able to do something like this at all without any pretense or fear. The mutual sensation of trust and all the pleasure.

Everything that happened, the life you’ve lived so far that once felt blurry comes to you with clarity. Like clear water, your love appears in front of your eyes, and it appears clear. It was never worthless. Never meaningless. Always meant to be, and always purposeful. The two of them have loved you with so much intention since the beginning, and it’s taken this long to take it in. To realize. 

With a shaky, soft voice - you warn them. 

“G-gonna cum.” 

You let go this time, pure relief running through. A few more short thrusts have them both following suit. Feeling them twitch inside of you at the same time makes your heart feel strangely full. It’s all a little stupid, but when the adrenaline starts to settle - you can’t help but smile. 

The room is completely dark as the three of you lay together in the silent aftermath. Your eyes  feel heavy as you fall forward. 

__ 

You don’t wake up till the next morning. 

It’s a little disorienting, truthfully. The sun isn’t out, instead the day is wrapped by comfortable clouds and cool rainfall. You don’t even know the time as you finally get yourself up - though you’re both naked and clean. 

Sitting up in your bed, memories of last night return to you swiftly. Your lower back throbs painfully. You laugh, putting your hand on it while you rub your eyes. Looking around your room, you find a stack of clothes with a note on top. 

“In the kitchen. Get dressed and come join us.” Written in Katsuki’s handwriting. 

Standing up to stretch, you rub the remaining tired out of your vision and throw out what clothes have been set for you before unlocking your door and stepping out into the living room. 

You’re surprised to find the both of them still there. Izuku is pouring cat food for Ganache, while Katsuki is at the stove making something that smells nice though you aren’t sure what it is. 

You hear Izuku first. He turns around to find you dressed, his face breaking out into a smile. Without a warning, he picks you up and spins you around in his arms. You let out a squeal. 

“Ah, Izuku! Wait, I haven’t brushed my teeth,” 

“Don’t care. Kiss! Kiss!” 

You can’t help but relent to him as he carries you effortlessly in his arms. He places kisses all over your neck and face before kissing you on the lips. You get comfortable against him, surprised by how sturdy it is. He rubs his face against you as he carries you on one arm, dragging you to Katsuki who looks at you a little unamused. 

You lean over to kiss him on the lips which he returns with soft smile. 

“You fucking idiots better sit down to eat. Swear to god.” 

Instead of answering, you kiss him one more time. He rolls his eyes but returns the gesture before busying himself back with the food. 

Izuku eases you on the counter instead of either you going back to sit. He stands between your legs. 

“Thanks for making breakfast. What time is it?” 

“11:32,” 

Your eyes widen immediately, as you scramble up. 

“Shit, I have work today.” 

Izuku stops you, looking sheepish. 

“No you don’t.” He says, looking away. 

“Huh?” 

Katsuki grins, flipping over the rolled egg with a self-satisifed laugh, 

“Sometimes,” He starts, pouring more egg into the pan “Being a Pro-Hero has it’s perks.” 

You immediately start into a fit of laughter, leaning forward to nuzzle into Izuku’s chest. 

“And you two?” 

Izuku’s voice reverberates. 

“Called in some favors. Thought it’d be good to spend a day together.” 

You feel like you’re in one long dream. After everything. There’s still so much to talk about but you let yourself ride the high.  Contented, you sigh, wrapping your arms around Izuku and closing your eyes. 

“I think so too.”

[touyaz]

trade-off.

pairing bakugou katsuki x fem reader

word count 1,675

notes bkg isn’t even super dark in this, he’s just a man in love ;(

WARNINGS smut, dark/ yandere bakugou, noncon/ dubcon, stockholm syndrome, implied kidnapping, spanking, oral (f rec), fingering. no pronouns for reader.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

+

"I know it hurts, honey," Bakugou placates, voice uncharacteristically quiet and caring, soft to soothe your discomfort. His palm, clammy and hot to the touch, comes down gently this time, rubbing circles over your ass. You wince regardless, but use the moment of reprieve to take in deep breaths. Whimpers still hiccup out of you and your heart begins to race when his hand lifts from your body — you've never missed his touch more than you do right now — but instead of his palm soaring down in another spank, it trails along your back, following the curve of your spine. "But this is what happens when you don't do what I say."

"I'm— I'm sorry," you stutter. You've lost count of how many times you've sobbed that phrase in the last 30 minutes, and though it has seemingly had no effect on Bakugou, you say it again anyway. "I'm sorry, I'll listen, I promise."

He hums, drawing mindless shapes on the expanse of your back. "What number are we up to right now?"

The mention of his cruel attack on your body makes you freeze in your spot, draped over his lap like a pliable blanket, but you're quick to answer lest that bring back his anger. "Fif— Fifteen."

"Fifteen… And how many did I say you'd get?"

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five," he echoes, voice sounding intrigued yet distant, as though he's lost in thought. You dread the ideas floating about in his mind, wondering if he's thinking of increasing that number, or changing your punishment. "That's a big difference, sweetheart."

You don't know how to reply, so you send a prayer that he's feeling merciful despite your earlier stunt. The dishes can be cleaned and the food can be remade, but the damage this has done to your pride, to your mentality, is irreparably scarring.

The tips of his fingers tiptoe up your back as he speaks. "You're really sorry?"

You nod, answering him with a frail "yes, I'm really sorry, Katsuki" — throwing in his name because he loves hearing that from you — "I shouldn't have acted out earlier. I'm sorry for being a brat."

"Alright. We'll stop at fifteen then." You want to melt into his lap with relief, eternally grateful that he's decided to end your suffering early, but your happiness is cut short when he continues, "You'll make up the remainder in a different way."

"Huh?" escapes your mouth before you can stop it, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle instead of berating you for speaking out of turn.

"Instead of ten spanks, you'll give me ten orgasms. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"

No, it doesn't. Not in the slightest. But his question isn't really a question when the only answers are yes or yes.

"Y-Yeah," you mumble, and then, as he's expecting, you add on, "thank you, Katsuki."

"You're welcome, honey. You're so good for me, you know that?" he says, smiling down at the handprints painting your rear. He almost wants to add some more despite everything he just said, but he's never been too good at coping when you start bawling your eyes out. He's never gone back on his word, so he better get started on those ten orgasms.

He goes through the process of rubbing a soothing cream on your ass, and you almost fall asleep to the soft, rhythmic motions, but he keeps you awake by murmuring into your ear and littering kisses across your shoulder blades.

When the pampering draws to a close, he lays you down on the bed, a pillow propping up your lower half as he settles between your parted thighs. The elevation helps keep pressure off of your rear, and Bakugou easily steals your attention as he nips his way up one thigh and then down the other.

"You ready?" he asks, breaking away from where he was sucking a hickey onto your skin. "I want to hear a 'thank you, Katsuki' each time you cum, understand?"

"Yes, Katsuki."

Your nerves are alight with tension, hands clenching the sheets as he pecks his way to the apex of your thighs, and your muscles twitch in anticipation of what's to come. He starts off with long, languid licks to your folds, following the line of your slit with slow brushes of his tongue. His lips wrap around your clit and he hums, the vibrations making you buck up against his face. He chuckles, and the sound sends shivers down your spine before he goes back to moaning around the little bud. His groaning draws out your essence just as he planned, and when he sees the juices trickle out of your pussy, he releases your swollen pearl in favour of savouring your taste.

His hands join the fray, thumbs pulling apart your lower lips so his tongue can slide into your needy hole. You clench around the muscle at the breach and a smirk tugs at his lips for getting you worked up so quickly. With one hand now holding you down by the hips, and the other circling your puffy clit, his tongue fucks its way in and out of your pussy, making a show of slurping up your arousal.

The noises are obscene as they invade the room, sounding wet and filthy; Bakugou groans loudly every time a drop of your essence falls on his tongue, and you scream his name in response, sobbing for him to give you more, more, please, need more.

It isn't long before you're falling apart on his mouth, his nose brushing against your clit each time you rut against his face to ride out the high of your first orgasm. You slump into the mattress, the waves of your release slowly washing away as all your built-up tension rolls off of you. It takes longer than you'd like to admit for you to gather your bearings — especially after just one (of many) orgasms — but you soon realise that Bakugou has been patiently waiting that whole time, not saying a word.

When he raises a brow at you, you understand that he's expecting you to say something.

Moments later, it finally clicks, and you gasp out a "th-thank you, Katsuki!"

"Losing your head over one little orgasm, huh, sweetheart?" He grins, lewdly licking away the arousal that coats the lower half of his face. Spit and cum form a glassy sheen over his mouth, but he's uncaring of the mess that drips down from his face as he dives back between your legs. "Better get ready for another one, angel face."

Another one, he says, then proceeds to make you cum twice more with his tongue alone. Then he pulls you apart with his fingers — curling against your velvet walls, tapping against all your sensitive spots — before he wields both his hand and his mouth, using his tongue to flick over your sensitive button as his fingers stretch you out for something bigger.

Soon, his other hand replaces his tongue on your clit, drawing messy figure-eights over your clit as he slips his tongue into your cunt too. He drools all over your folds, pulling away only to spit on your cunt and use his fingers to fuck that into you. It's messy, downright disgusting, and you should be turning away and screaming at him to stop because it's too much, but you chase the feeling of another orgasm mounting.

Your back is arching off of the bed, wound tight like a bow, but the aches haven't settled in just yet, so you continue humping Bakugou's face so he can reach further, licking his way deeper into your cunt to bring you to new heights.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm so close, plea— Katsuki, please! Please!"

He growls against your pussy in lieu of a reply, slipping a third finger into your soaked cunt; his tongue is sliding everywhere it can to bring you pleasure, mouth drinking in all your juices, teeth nipping at your folds, but it's when his lips latch onto your clit and suck that you cry his name and lose yourself to get another orgasm. Your eyes roll back as your mouth stays open in a silent scream, panting as he continues pumping his fingers into you, twisting them this way and that to roll out your high and elicit more pretty moans.

There's an ocean of spit, cum and drool flooding the sheets and Bakugou's face. Your thighs are absolutely drenched in sweat and sex, but neither of you can bring yourself to care about the mess. Instead, Bakugou focuses his attention on the breathless "thank you, thank you, thank you" you're whimpering, like it's your favourite prayer. It's barely discernible as he overstimulates you to the point of pain, wet fingers sliding out of your pussy to rub against your clit.

"C-Can't," you grit out, thighs quaking and toes curling as he ignores you. "Stop, please, it's too much, I can't— no more—"

Your orgasm bleeds into another, or just stretches out into one extremely long, painful one, but either way, by the time Bakugou slows his ministrations, your body is spent and all you want to do is melt into the bed. You feel like you've taken a tumble down a steep hill, your entire body aching and screaming for sleep. Your legs are numb, though you can feel them twitch every so often against the bedsheets, and your head feels light and hazy, like you've just woken up and haven’t quite escaped sleep's sweet clutches.

Bakugou clearly has different ideas flitting around in his mind as he sits on his knees between your legs, bringing his fingers (that are positively doused in your cum) to his mouth to taste your release. He grins around his fingers, popping them out so you can see them shine with his saliva before they drop to undo his belt buckle.

"There's no time to rest, honey. You didn't thank me for the last orgasm, so you still owe me five more — and there's no way you're getting out of your punishment this time."

[princematcha]

tall buildings blinking to airplanes in the snow

pro-hero!bakugou k. x reader (no pronouns)

wc: 10k 

cw: friends 2 lovers, not in chronological order, inaccurate train schedules for plot, a single free willy joke, sections titled in latin because i suck i guess idk, unnamed american hero, an oc sidekick, sfw, not beta-read, reader is shorter than bkg no matter how tall you are, mutual pining, a fake manga, reader gets called pretty, reader has a quirk, fluff

tw: mild violence, blood mention, fight-related injuries, knives, cursing, alcohol, reader self deprecates a lil bit, mild hurt/comfort, slice of life

a/n: happy birthday @strawberry-nugget !!!(this is so late help) this 1 is for my co-owner of a brain cell, sweetest strawb kith kith

soundtrack. (not necessary but what i wrote to. songs can be listened to in any order.)

summary: what makes a home change? love. at least bakugou thinks so.

MDNI

nunc, hiems

(now) “I think we used to talk like that.”

Bakugou hums at you, eyes closed and head resting on your shoulder. You weren’t able to go to sleep and he woke from the lack of warmth from where you usually are. He doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “It’s so bright for two am. The sky is white ‘ki,” you whisper. 

“Cause,” he opens his eyes one at a time, “S cause it’s snowing.”

“I know.” You laugh quietly like you’ll wake someone, “Just thought it looked nice.”

“Does,” he breathes. 

Fake yawning, you raise a hand to your mouth, “Think I’m getting tired now.” Bakugou blinks his eyes open to sleepily glare at you trying not to smile. 

He speaks into your shoulder, “Don’ lie. ‘M not even tired.” Your smile breaks through, warming him from head to toe.

 “I’ll bet.” You say softly, shifting his head to your fuzzy blanket-covered lap. He pouts up at you but doesn’t try to move. 

“Fuck am I doing down here?” You brush his hair out of his eyes as you rotate your shoulder in small circles, pretending to wince.

“Your big head was hurting my shoulder.” 

“You love my big head.” You poke your tongue at him and push his grinning face.

You cover his eyes with your hands, “Go to sleep, freak.” 

Katsuki stops moving after a bit and you assume he’s fallen asleep until he asks what you meant earlier. You’re not quite sure what he means— having chosen to spend the last few minutes tracing his features, gently humming random songs that blended into one another. 

“The ‘used to talk like that.’ What wer’ ya lookin’ at?” He shifts again to look up at you through one eye. 

You bite back the urge to laugh at his sleepy tongue, instead, bending over to gently headbutt him. He grabs the back of your head to keep your foreheads together. 

“Something about how the lights let the airplanes know where it’s safe. Let them know where they can land.” You can feel his eyelashes brushing against your cheek with every blink. 

“Doesn’t make shit sense.”

You huff and sit up. “You don’t make shit sense. Sleep already.” 

“Ya wanna know what I think we talk like?” Bakugou asks as he places a rough palm on your cheek. A dark white sky and city lights give him a softened glow. 

“No.” He grunts a laugh, eyes almost closed and a tired arm starting to rest on you. 

“I think we always talked like this. Not a fuckin’ plane. Hate planes, so much prettier than a plane.”

You grab his wrist and press your lips to his palm, smiling against his hand when he hums at you. 

“Pretty sure they use radios too,” he adds with a smirk. You bite his palm in response. 

“Hope your snores wake you up.”

Katsuki turns to face your stomach and grumbles love you into your thigh. 

duodēvīgintī, vernus (II)

(18) “And you! How does it feel to be a pro-hero, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight-san?” You ask, an air mic pointed towards Bakugou and wiggling your eyebrows around when you say pro-hero. On your right, Denki starts cackling at hearing the full name and smacks your back just a touch too hard. You’re wheezing and shoving him out of the booth when you hear Bakugou say “Great.”

A couple of hours ago, the legendary class of 1-A graduated. Now they’re all shoved in a ramen shop that definitely isn’t meant to have this many people. They had all been coming to your dad’s place since their first year even after it was destroyed that same year. You don’t know much about what happened then honestly, you didn’t come to Japan from your tiny out-of-the-loop town until you were most of the way through your second year, but you can find it in their faces sometimes. Plus you can see how the paparazzi treat the class, how fanatics forget they’re people. 

You make it your secret hero mission to have a place that they can come– and they eat here fairly often– where they can come and be whatever. The hero class if they want, you wait for them to give you a sign that they want to talk about recent hero-related achievements. But they usually come to the small place to just be. 

You can feel Bakugou’s red eyes on you and Denki, it makes a weird feeling stir in your spine. You’re not sure why he’s still looking. He’s been doing that more than usual.

(A wet winter night forces its way to the front of your brain, but you push the thought down as quickly as it appears. Too cold. Too damp. Too dark for today.)

The sun is setting when the former UA students start shuffling out of the ramen shop. Teary hugs with the friends you made from the school, promises of seeing each other later. You know they mean it with their whole heart, but you doubt hero work will give them enough downtime to spend with some civilian in a tiny place they frequented in high school. Still, you smile and hold each promise with trusting hands, letting the feeling drop lead weights into your chest. 

Mina’s hand is sliding off of your lower back when you notice Bakugou hasn’t moved from where he was standing next to the table. Maybe he left something? You don’t remember him bringing anything. The bell above the front door jingles as the last students leave, leaving him plus a couple of businessmen over by the tv. 

“I’m leaving.”

You turn to him with a confused smile and laugh, “Well I’d hope so, can’t stay here for the night.” He doesn’t laugh. Bakugou just looks at you. His warm stare always makes you feel like he’s peeling layers off of you, leaving just the soft pulp out. You haven’t decided how you feel about that yet. 

“No,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, “I’m going to America.” You feel your face tighten. 

“Ah, that’s-” What is it. Why is he telling you? You probably would have found out through Sero or something. So why are you standing less than half of a metre away from Bakugou while he tells you he’s leaving the country. You can see his hands flexing in his pockets, how he’s rocking from heel to toe, and how he’s keeping his eyes on your face. The weird feeling in your spine is back. “That’s exciting!” you smile again. He only leans back a little and squints down at you, corners of his mouth pointed downwards. 

“That all?” You tilt your head up at him, what else are you supposed to say? Does he want you to say something else? You don’t know. You don’t know what to say. (You don’t know what to say to him.)

The tight smile is faltering and the weight in your chest is making you feel heavy. You lower yourself into the booth. He sits across from you. “How long?” you ask. You don’t think Bakugou thinks you’re close, but he’s recently been a quiet comfort. Bakugou’s regular lack of response was a little off-putting at first but lately, they kinda remind you of the kind of silence you get around a campfire, the pause where everyone takes a moment to look at the stars. 

“At least a year and a half.” He sighs and rests his chin against his palm, “They fuckin- They- You-” You give a blank stare in response, confused at what he’s trying to say.  Bakugou grimaces at himself then continues, “They care. About you. And they do wanna see you. And they’re going to try.” The words are sweet, but it looks like someone is ripping them out of his stomach.

“Thanks?” 

He furrows his eyebrows at you and sighs again. This talk is taking a lot of wind out of him. He crosses his arms, “I could just fuckin’ hear how sad your dumb thoughts were getting when all of the extras were leaving.”

“I don’t know if I’d call th-”

Bakugou looks away for a moment before cutting you off, “The thoughts are dumb because they aren’t true.” Oh. “You don’t suck to be around,” a compliment you assume, “And you’re not lame, so don’t have lame thoughts.” You scrunch your face up and try not to laugh (or cry).

“Lame?” You ask, he folds his arms tighter around him and starts to glower at you as his life depended on it. “Are you sure you graduated high school? Not middle school?” You laugh, bringing a hand up to your mouth to hold back from fully smiling.

“I am trying to f-”

“I’m kidding,” you watch the building frustration slowly melt out of him, puffed out chest moving back, “Thank you Bakugou. Mean it.” He finally rolls his eyes, his forearms moving to rest on the table.

“Whatever.”

You stand up suddenly and his red irises dart up to you, clearly confused but you’ve already set a plan in motion. Bakugou’s eyes are slowly widening and he’s leaning towards you even though he keeps clenching his hands then rubbing them on his slacks. 

To catch him off guard you lunge towards him with open arms and hug him as tight as you can, his arms stuck to his sides.

(You did notice him look down at your lips twice, but he was probably figuring out the easiest way to push your face away if you pulled anything unsavory.)

“I’m going to miss you too, won’t have a metro buddy,” you rumble into his shirt, feeling his fast heartbeat against your forehead. 

He clicks his tongue and groans above you. “Just- Just be safe while I’m gone alright? Don’t be stupid.”

A tear soaks into the cloth of his button-up, “I promise. You too. Promise.”

“I promise.”

vīgintī ūnus, aestas

(21) An obnoxious attempt at a tune in the form of knocks erupts from Bakugou’s front door. Who the hell is at his apartment on a Wednesday night? Christ. 

You, apparently.

He rubs an oil-covered hand on his forehead as you draw out the vowels of his name, “Bakugou!” He’s busy. His car isn’t in the garage so maybe you don’t know for sure if he’s home. There’s a silence and he thinks for a moment that you’ve left, then the door creaks from you leaning on it.

“I brought you your special.” That’s a compelling offer. 

Bakugou isn’t nervous to see you alone. No, that would imply he’s been staying up much later than accustomed to thinking about your laugh and your face pressed against his heart hugging him goodbye for two and a half years. That he almost cried when he saw your smile mixed in with the people greeting him when he came back. That in his head he still hasn’t forgiven himself. That he has no idea how to act around you anymore. Bakugou hasn’t been holding off on a one-on-one reunion with you. He’s just been, busy. 

You call through the door, “Hello?”

He presses his face hard against the wood before responding. “Extra pepper flakes?”

“Aha! Hello, yes!” Bakugou hears you do a weird laugh, “With even more spicy sh-”

He flings the door open before you can finish. You stumble over yourself from the violent action before swinging the bag of food away from him. Once you steady yourself, you point an accusing finger in his confused face. The fuck are you doing. He thinks about slamming the door. 

You smile and wave before masking your face in faux seriousness and pointing at him again. 

“Let me in or no food.” 

The two of you hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before you break it to take in his state. Bakugou frowns a little more when he watches your face turn to one of fake surprise. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp with wide eyes. 

His hand tightens around the doorknob. “Fuck is your pro-“

You gesture towards his chest. “Is that a two day old shirt?” 

Never mind, he doesn’t want you in his apartment. 

“Go wash your hands, you’re covered in gauntlet juice.”

He shoots you a dirty look that you pretend not to notice. How you got into his kitchen is lost on him. You continue to arrange the containers and grab bowls, listening to him walk towards the bathroom and mutter about telling him what to do in his own home. Bakugou comes back to the table with a damp face and a new shirt. He watches you tap around on your phone, face changing when you type something new. 

Chopsticks holding one slowly escaping noodle in your right hand, your left clumsily holding onto that brick of a phone case Bakugou sent you after you got a piece of broken phone screen stuck in your thumb. You speak before he can, “Just sit down and eat, I’ll be done in a sec.” He takes a deep breath, he can be normal around you. He’s organized his feelings. 

Katsuki eats quietly for a few minutes, hunched over the table, at first thinking about the graveyard patrol shift he has later, thoughts slowly dissolving into whether or not he left a sock in his gym locker. Between bites and thoughts of missing articles, he does take in you. The haphazard eating, the hair that consistently almost falls into your food, whispering to yourself what you say before you type, and you looking at him when he’s facing his ramen. 

You toss your phone on the table, bringing his attention up to your smiling face. He squints at you.

“What.” He spits, bringing the spoon away from his face. You snort. 

“I can’t just smile at a friend?” you ask, swirling your udon around its bowl. 

He looks back down at his food and pops a fishcake in his cheek, “No.”

You laugh and though the broth is still in his spoon, a warmth spreads through his chest. What the fuck. He shoves more ramen in his mouth to shoo away the feeling. Maybe you poisoned him.

Fixing his chopsticks to the edge of the bowl, he sits straighter and makes a decision. He doesn’t know if his heart will survive, but he wants to hear it at least once before he dies, “You know you can cut it out with the Bakugou.”

You stare up at him with noodles hanging out of your mouth, “What else am I supposed to call you?” You say between bites.

His hand clenches underneath the table and he almost hits himself for being nervous about this, “Katsuki.”

Your eyes widen slightly and drop down to your soup before peeking up at him again. After swallowing you smile and give him a thumb up, food in the side of your mouth, “Sounds good, Katsuki.”

It’s past midnight when he hears you start to pack up your things. Two and a half movies ago you wrestled him onto the couch talking about how you wanted to watch some dumb series. Bakugou fell asleep in the first ten minutes of the second movie.

He dreamt about you in a flower-covered field. You kissed his hands and scattered petals in his hair. You spoke of elves and long battles. You also talked about how he might call you stupid but you have eyes and anyone can see that he needs to take a break, not even a vacation but to just sit down and breathe. How you want to see him cry from laughter just once because it's been so long since the last time. You missed him. 

He feels you pull a blanket further up his body and pat his head twice. “Nighty night Dynamight.” You shut the door softly behind you.

undevīgintī, autumnus

(19) Bakugou stopped answering your messages. That’s subjective. If you don’t consider a one-word reply after days of no response as answering, then he hasn’t replied to you in a while. You knew it was going to happen, even if he didn’t go off to America. You’re sure it’s not a you thing, but a tiny part of you wonders if it is. If something about you drove him away. 

It would be harder to not drift apart, the larger parts of you reason; hero work takes your time, your mind, and your body. Bakugou is a great hero, wants to be an even better one. And Bakugou puts his whole heart into what he wants. 

When he first started responding less, you imagined him on a secret mission, filled with espionage and secret identities. That’s why he couldn't answer. He’s not. Kirishima told you he’s just getting experience in another country, that an American agency practically begged the explosion hero to join. You think Bakugou added the begging part.

You thought your conversations with him were nice. Something to look forward to. You were sure you got closer to the grump when he was on the other side of the world. It started with just texting him every time you hopped on the metro, just to steal some of his spare safety. You don’t know when it happened, but one day you realized that Bakugou provided you a comfort that you didn’t get from your new four walls in Yokohama. 

Bakugou was the first person you’d message when something exciting happened. He’d tell you about his patrol, a picture or two of the pets he saw. If he was feeling generous, he’d send you a picture of what he had cooked, maybe even attach a recipe. Sometimes he’d add little personal notes to the recipe or call you so you could get it perfectly. You’d both greet each other good morning and goodnight no matter what time it was. And now he doesn’t even have the grace to have read receipts on.

Throwing your phone onto your bed, you let yourself melt into the floor. You imagine the hardwood bubbling up and creeping its way over your skin, slowly bringing you into its hold. But it’s not, and you’re laying on the uncomfortable floor while your friends are out there every day doing something. Even if they’re not big heroes. It’s something. They’re something. 

Red and brown leaves float through the air and tap your second-story windows. The shadows laying across the wall parallel to your windows let you know the sun is about to set. Mina invited you to a get-together, “Everyone’s gonna be there!” she sent. You’re not a hero. You’re not even support. 

You feel like your old friends can smell your melancholy in the water like sharks. Well-intentioned sharks. The past month they’ve been very particular about getting you out when you only have the energy to burrow further into your bed. It makes you feel pathetic knowing that they’re accomplishing things in their lives and you’re some sad shape moving through days. You feel like a leech, you can’t think of something you bring to the table. 

A text rings off of your phone. 

It’s Mina again. “I’m outside!”

You find yourself in a bar with your forehead on the tacky wood, five empty shot glasses in front of you, and a hollow burn in your throat. They didn’t have as much of an effect on you as they clearly did on your friends. At most, you can feel a small floaty feeling in your bones, small puffs of helium in your joints. 

People from the former classes of 1A and 1B are making their rounds around the place, occasionally making small talk with you before it dwindles and they get swept into something bigger (better too.)

You feel lost, like an alien on another planet. They’re not even talking about hero shit anymore and you can barely understand them. It’s like you’ve forgotten how to talk, tripping over simple conversation and giving weird grimaces when people smile at you. You shouldn’t have come, you have no idea what’s wrong with you. 

Pushing yen towards the bartender you start to stand up, then two hands plop you back into your chair. Looking at your shoulders, you see one pink one and one with black chipped nail polish. “Where are you going?” Mina pouts on your right, face squished against yours and a nose-burning mix of drinks radiating from her mouth. 

“I haven’t even shown you my new dance moves,” Denki squishes his cheek against your other cheek, “They’re pretty sexy.” If you weren’t so set on sitting on the floor of your shower once you got home you might have gone dancing with him.

Rubbing both of their cheeks you sigh and stare at your phone on the bar top, “I’m tired, I had a really good time though.” Denki whines and Mina falls to your lap, your hands still on their heads. The bar is lukewarm and you think the dancefloor would cook you right now. You’re tired, you smell like other people’s sweat, and you can’t remember the last time you drank water today.

You press harder against Denki and pinch Mina’s cheek, pushing their eyes away from your face, “One more.”

One more becomes the bar on its side and the two of them on the dance floor. The world moves like half-melted jell-o and your face is wet. You think you spilled something on yourself or you were crying. It’s so hot in this bar. You wish you were home.

Sliding off of the bar stool, you set your eyes on the front door. If you don’t let the lights distract you, you think you can make it. Something gets into your eye and you squeeze your eyes shut to get it out, when you open your eyes again, you’re outside. The midnight autumn air on your sweaty skin takes some of the spin away from your vision. You feel dirty all the way to your bones and you can’t even recognize how you smell. You want home.

Grabbing at yourself until your phone ends up in your hand, you tap around to call home. You hope he picks up.

A gravelly voice picks up after three rings, a tired tone asking your name. It sounds prettier than the stars you could’ve seen from here if there wasn’t light pollution.

“Hi Bakugou,” you reply in a small voice. There’s a silence, you weren’t expecting anything out of this. You thought you’d air your heart out to voicemail. The rhythmic, methodical sound of beeps in the background sobers you. “Are you- are you in the hospital?”

“Ah yeah,” you can hear rustling, the creaking of his hospital bed, “Why’re you awake?”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt instead of answering. He goes to ask what you’re talking about and earlier today you would have shut up to hear his voice, but the liquid burning down your throat and sitting in your gut urges you to speak. “I know I’m a lot, I didn’t mean to be so much. I just,” water hits your collar bone but when you look around it isn’t raining, “I think I got so comfortable with you. I thought you were too. You’re really- I really-” You hiccup and all you can hear is Bakugou’s breathing and the fast beeps of the monitor.

He says your name again and you remember you were talking about something, “I really like having you in my life, you’re important to me. If you come back I promise I’ll be less this time.”

A sigh replies, he’s finally had enough of you. Should you hang up to beat him to it? “’M sorry,” he says.

“What?” It’s your fault, why is he apologizing?

Bakugou cough-laughs into the mic and the sound makes you wince, “I was bein’ awful to you and you’re saying sorry? Thought you promised not to be stupid.” The night streets in front of you get blurry the more he speaks, “Never promise someone you’ll be less, tiny. That’s a bad fuckin’ deal. Be all of you all of the goddamn time. I was bein’ an ass n’ it’s not your fault.”

“But,” you argue.

“No ‘buts.’” 

You wipe your face and nod, “Okay.”

He tells you about his time in the hospital, the earth-shaking villain that got him in there, and the “goddamn yeehawin’” patrol partner. You slowly sober up outside, a group of girls having come by and gave you a water bottle from one of their purses because “bad bitches stay hydrated.” Bakugou doesn’t mention why he started ignoring you, but he repeated that he’s sorry. That the dinners he made aren’t worth mentioning and didn’t even taste like anything without your shared input on it. He says you have him back now, and you couldn’t get rid of him if you tried.

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up to the night air.

“Cross my heart, peach.” His voice quiets as tests the new name on his tongue. 

“Peach?”

“Trying something, ya hate it, runt?” 

New tears fall as you laugh and sniffle into the phone, “It’s sweet. Better than runt.”

You wake up the next day with your stomach ready to kill you and a good morning text on your phone.

septendecim, hiems

(17) God, he’s glad he got the fuck out of that stuffy ass room. Bakugou felt like his life was being drained the longer he spent with his parents' friends' New Years’ Party. He never even wanted to go in the first place. 

His loafers sink into the crisp snow, biting winter air swirling around his ankles and over his nose, gloved hands shoved tightly into his pockets. So fuckin cold. In a rush, he forgot to grab his hat, fresh snowflakes being dusted into his spikes and melting the closer they were to his scalp. 

When Bakugou heard they needed more ice, he slipped out with a yell as quickly as he could, ignoring them saying that they had an ice machine in their freezer. Ahead the humming glow of a konbini’s neon lights lay flashing red and blue onto the surrounding snow. The sensor above the door chimes as he walks in, tapping his shoes off before the attendant can greet him. 

In his head he looks a little stupid, scarf pulled halfway up his reddened face from the cold, insulated jacket making him brush against every item he passes by, and loafers. Making his way to the glass doors in the back, the sensor rings again. He can hear their teeth chattering from the other side of the store. Pussy. 

The attendant greets the person while he’s looking at the different brands, spending as much time as possible to not be in the stuffy house. When the customer responds Bakugou freezes and squints at the ice. He knows that voice. You, old man’s kid from the ramen spot. He’s seen you around when the idiots drag him to shit on weekends. The hell are you doing here? Your shop’s on the other side of town. If you recognize him, he might ask.

Turning around, the ice bags in hand Bakugou feels something run directly into his chest, then the sound of falling bags and plastic. He realizes it’s you when you squeak and duck down to pick your goods. You look up to apologize and he watches the slow recognition in your eyes as you remember who he is. 

“Oh! Explosion Murder, right?” Your hand is hovering over another bag and Bakugou frowns at your shorthand version of his hero name. At least say the whole thing.

You don’t have a basket and the snacks keep falling out of your arms when you go to pick up the already fallen snacks, creating a crinkly, annoying cycle. He grabs the ones already on the ground in his free hand, “Bakugou. Why are you here tiny?”

“Wha- Ti- Why am I here?” You frown up at him, he finds a specific pleasure in this reaction, “I’m here for this.” You hold up one of the bags in your hold, the labeling isn’t in kanji. “This is like, the only konbini in Japan that has this, used to have it all the time at home.”

“Huh.” 

You laugh over your shoulder as you start walking back towards the front, “Yeah.”

He forgot you were a foreigner. Do you miss it? You haven’t been here for that long if he remembers right, what was it like back home for you? Do you not consider your house in Japan home yet? You have your dad here. Bakugou has only known Japan, having lived in Musutafu his whole life. He wonders how long it takes to make a place home. What makes it change. 

“I might have a quirk Bakugou, but it sure as hell isn’t mind-reading.” Fuck he was just staring at the bags in his arms. The ice bag’s condensation drips onto the linoleum. You laugh when he finally realizes that there’s a small puddle creeping towards his shoe.

He grabs new ice bags and walks briskly past you towards the register, “Fuck off.”

“On it.”

While the cashier checks out your snacks, Bakugou glances at you looking for your wallet in your pockets. Your puffy jacket won’t let you bring your arms completely to your sides, melting snow in your hair, your earmuffs somewhat crooked on your head, sweatpants haphazardly stuffed into snow boots. “What’s home like?”

He didn’t expect himself to ask and evidently neither did you. You pause and look up at him, when he bares his teeth in response you grin and start looking for your wallet again. “It’s… nice. I miss it some days. Japan’s nice too,” you snap gloved fingers when you find your wallet, “There’s just something about home though ya know?”

He guesses. Bakugou shrugs, tossing your food into a reusable grocery bag he keeps in his pockets. He puts his ice bags on the counter, still holding your groceries, “‘ve only lived here,” he hands the cashier more yen than necessary, nodding when they say Happy New Year, “What else?”

When you push the front door open, you look back at him. “What else?” you repeat with a furrowed brow. 

“Yeah, what else-” he pushes your back forward, “Don't look at me like that I just don’t want to go back to my parents' shitty party.”

“Oh,” you smile at him and he feels a little sweat cover his body, “well if you insist.”

He listens to you talk about your family and life back home until your path to the metro branches off from his. You told him “see you next year!” and it took everything in Bakugou not to throw the ice at you. 

The walk back to the penthouse feels colder than before. Did the temperature drop while he was out? A deeper cold sets into Bakugou that he can’t shake, nudging his face deeper into his scarf and jogging towards the party. He still has a cold feeling in his stomach when he steps into the heated air of the lobby, the warm elevator, even in front of the door at the penthouse. Mitsuki buzzes him in and is in the middle of asking “what took you so damn lo-” before he cuts her off. 

“I forgot something,” Bakugou says quickly and drops the ice bags on the welcome mat, and runs back to the elevators. The lift isn’t going fast enough when he’s going down, thumb repeatedly jamming into the lobby button. He doesn’t know why he’s going back, but something in his bones feels off. If he’s wrong and your stupid face is on that shitty train, then he’s wrong. But something in him just needs to check. 

Running in loafers on snow-covered cement isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but he’s about to be a pro hero, if he can’t do this he should drop out of the class. Bakugou thought the running would warm his hands enough to make him sweat, but there’s not nearly as much as he hoped there would be. The cold is biting and it’s making his eyes water, the front of his hair is starting to be weighed down by snow and his nose feels like it’s about to fall off. God he hates you right now, he can’t tell if he’d rather you be in danger so he didn’t run for nothing, or you safe and on the train. 

He spots the lights of the raised platform and guns harder. His hand is on the railing of the stairs when he hears a scuffle and a cut-off scream nearby. Bakugou whips around and bolts towards where he heard the noise– an alley right next to the station. 

When he gets to the opening his heart freezes in his chest. His heartbeats are ringing throughout his entire body, everything feels so loud and so quiet at once. Dirty snow and your dumb snacks that you needed to get so late at night cover the ground. Someone’s standing over you, holding you up by the collar of your shirt with a knife at your neck. He can’t hear what they’re saying but he can see you crying. That sight wakes his body up. 

You don’t see him when he lunges towards the knife, elbow pointed towards the fucker’s face. It’s a messy fight after that, his brain hazy from the cold and the adrenaline. He knows he can barely use his quirk, just him against some shit for brains villain. The fight isn’t fluid in his mind, only meeting him at certain moments. He’s on the ground, then he’s standing over them, feeling the slice of a blade in his side. Bakugou hears you fall with a groan into some trash bags when his fist makes contact with their ribs. They pull another knife out right before he knocks them the fuck out, knicking his cheek before they go down. He turns back to check on you, shaking and covered in fresh snow. 

He doesn’t know what to do now, mind filled with snow and ice. You look up at him with a tear-covered face and a busted wobbling bottom lip. “How-” he starts, and you rush up from the ground and dart towards him. Bakugou’s arms hang loosely at his sides as you wrap yourself around his torso, shivering against him. 

What happened? He has so many questions, instead of asking he rests his arms on your shoulders as you both slowly crumble towards the ground. Your face is tucked against his scarf and he can hear you whispering thank you repeatedly into the fabric. Sitting next to each other on the bagged waste, you hold him so tightly he can barely breathe. As the adrenaline from the fight starts to wear off, he can feel his body. His left glove is missing and his hand is bleeding (probably his right as well), he thinks he at least bruised a few ribs, his back is wet from getting kicked onto the ground. He keeps thinking about how the shitbag didn’t have a quirk. Bakugou doesn’t know what he would’ve done if they did. He knows he’d find a way to win. 

The shitbag. His eyes shoot over; still knocked out, okay. A belated thought about arresting them ambles through his mind. Hot blood runs down his cheek as he fumbles around his pocket looking for his phone. When he takes it out, there is an uncountable amount of missed calls from his parents. It’s 23:49. How long has he been out here. Blood and snow smear on his phone as he clumsily taps his thumb around to call the police. 

While the phone is connecting to the line he looks down at you. God, you look fucking freezing. He wraps his sore arm as best he can around you. He should’ve just walked with you to the dumb fucking station. How long were you hoping someone would come by? When you cough he looks back at you, fuck why is it taking so long to connect, and you open your mouth to speak. 

“I-I’m sorry,” your teeth chatter through every word, tears welling up in your eyes again. 

“Don’t b- It’s not your fault they’re a piece of shit. You shouldn’t have come out here, you should’ve just fuckin’ waited.” He knows he’s speaking meaner than he intends to but he’s so fucking cold and he almost got his ass handed to him by some giant crook. 

“I’m-”

Bakugou’s eyes cut down to yours, phone pressed steadily against his ear, “Don’t you dare say sorry again. You don’t have to give me that crap just fucking promise not to be stupid.”

Your bottom lip stops shaking as much when you pause to look at him, the space between your brows creased. “Not stupid?” you blink and lick the blood off of your bottom lip, “I ah, I promise.”

“Holdin ya’ to it.” Bakugou glares at the wall parallel to him as he hears someone pick up the phone, immediately barking the address before they can say hello. He has to repeat it and he feels your tight hold loosen. For a moment part of him thinks you’ve died even though he’s the one that got stabbed, but he calms when he hears your steadier breathing. One glance tells him that you’re less afraid now, eyes no longer glossy and petrified. 

When the dispatcher tells him services are on the way, his arm falls and he lets himself groan into the freezing night air. Frosty puffs of air leave both of you, all adrenaline gone now, left with injuries and a knocked-out villain a couple feet away from you. Waiting in the cold winter air. 

Fireworks pop from all around, jolting both of you out of the icy daze that had settled over you before noticing the colorful bursts of light filling the sky. Bakugou sinks back into the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He feels you shift a little closer to him, your face moving further into his scarf. 

“Happy New Year’s Bakugou,” you mutter against him, voice muffled. The moment the words leave your mouth and meet his neck, the events of the night finally fall on Bakugou. It started with his shoulders shaking, building to him laughing the hardest he thinks he ever has, even harder when your confused eyes peek out of the scarf. His side hurts, his cheeks are sore, and in the back of his mind, he can feel you brushing his tears off of his face. What a crap New Years’.

“Shit,” he wheezes,“-yeah. Happy New Year’s tiny.” Kneeing your leg when you pinch him, eyelids heavy with the lullaby of your breathing and approaching sirens.

duodēvīgintī, vernus (I)

(18) Confetti and tinsel fall into your hair as the last “explosion” of Bakugou’s birthday goes off. His unofficial official Bakusquad arranged a celebration at the top of a small mountain. A short hike that wouldn’t be too tiring (Mina didn’t want you to pass out in the middle of a hike meant for a hero class). People spent the entire party trying to smack their party hats onto the birthday boy, trying to get eighteen of the cones onto him. Somehow they got him to agree not to blast any of them away during their attempts, Denki said something about a bet, but the almost-smile on Bakugou’s face tells you he probably would have let them anyway.

When the air starts to chill, everyone begins packing up and cleaning the debris from the explosions. Mina announced with a proud grin that the confetti was biodegradable, but when Tsu asked about the tinsel her face fell and she shooed her girlfriend away.

The thin pieces of shiny plastic weren’t cleaned off of the surrounding area until sunset, more than half of the attendees left already. By the time the rest of you reached the bottom of the trail, it was dusk. A sweet-smelling breeze drifting through branches, soft laughs of your friends behind you. 

Ochako and Tsu are the first to leave from the remaining group, they offered you a ride home but you didn’t want to interrupt their date night. You stand to the side from everyone else while they talk about their different plans, everyone drawing out their goodbyes. 

You told your dad you would just ride the metro home after Bakugou’s birthday, you assumed cleaning up would be done before sundown. It’s been a few months since it happened, but sometimes when a certain gust of wind would find its way into your chest, you’d feel that same freeze you felt in December. You like to think you’d handle things differently now, but you also thought that wouldn’t have happened to you in the first place. 

Tightly gripping your phone and pepper spray in each pocket, you take a step towards the station. 

“Hey!” You?

Looking back towards the group, Bakugou’s jogging towards you, tearing the multiple birthday hats off of him. “Stop fuckin laughin,” he grunts as the last cone’s string slaps his skin. He stops when he’s next to you, an expectant look in his eye. 

“What,” you glance back towards your friends, all huddled and pretending they’re not looking at you. 

He brings his hand to your back, a stiff index finger jabbing into your spine, “Get a move on runt,” sneering down at you when you yelp and smack his hand away, “You’re g’nna miss your damn train.”

You pinch his hand as he retracts it, “I was getting a move on, but you stopped me.” You turn back towards the sidewalk and notice Bakugou is walking in step with you. You look up at him, he’s canvassing the streets with his eyes, hands in his pockets, “What are you doing?”

“Fuck does it look like I’m doing?” 

Tugging on your finger, you stare hard at the sidewalk ahead of you, “You don’t- hm. You don’t have to do that- this anymore, I’m good now.” For the past three and a half months Bakugou has been walking with you to the station whenever he’s around. You never asked him to, but it helps ease the fear more than anything. Today’s his birthday though and you don’t want him to feel like he has to protect you, especially today. 

“This?” His steps slow, and you can feel him looking at you.

Twisting one of your rings around you nod, “Yeah, this. Like walking me. You don’t have to,” you pause and look up at him before looking at a streetlamp, “feel guilty I guess? You can just do whatever you want to do. Be free, Willy.” As you finish, Bakugou stops and faces you, an almost blank expression on his face. 

He’s under the streetlight now, shadows and deep yellows carving precise lines into his face. Did he always look like this? Did he always look so— pretty? You stare into each other's eyes for a beat before he scoffs and flicks your forehead, continuing towards the station. 

You trip over your feet to catch up to him, stumbling into pace with him. “Hey! I just said be free. Go do some birthday stuff,” you say as you elbow his arm. 

“I woke up late, didn’t have enough time to do a morning run.” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his opened button up fluttering around with the wind. 

“What?” 

“Walking to the station,” Bakugou side-eyes you, “Cause I couldn’t do it this morning.”

You stare as hard as you can into the side of his face, “To replace an eight k run,” he frowns the tiniest bit and you sense he probably does more than eight k, “You’re taking a five-minute walk?”

“You got a problem with that?” he bites, but the intentioned harsh tone only results in a blooming smile from you. 

“No,” you turn towards the sidewalk again, hiding your face.

“Good.” He bumps into you, “Not getting on that stink ass train though.” 

undevīgintī, aestas

(19) Bakugou thinks he might be sick. His stomach’s been swimming for months, no actual symptoms yet, just filled with knots. In his chest, he has this ache. The physician at the agency said nothing’s wrong, probably just a little homesick. But it doesn’t feel like he just wants to go back to Japan. The feeling reminds him of you describing how you felt about your home. A little different though, he feels like he left something there. He doesn’t know what.

“Hot out, ain't it Dynamight?” A voice breaks him out of his thoughts, shaking him back into his patrolling body. 

It’s nearing the end of summer, air thick and humid. He’s grateful on behalf of his quirk, but every other part of him wants to lay like a dead fish in front of an air conditioner. For professionalism’s sake he’s keeping his mask on, but the sweat running down his forehead is soaking it more than he’s comfortable. The support team here found a way for all of the sweat that soaks into his clothes to get moved to his gauntlets, still, his black compression tank top sticks to him like a second skin. He has never regretted his costume decisions until now. 

He grunts in response to his patrol partner for the season, Ranger, whose hero name is inspired by some vigilante from the “wild, wild west.” Ranger looks and acts like he was stolen from a black-and-white Western and dropped into modern times. Even sounds like one, his words rounded and bouncy. His costume reminds Bakugou of a fucked up cowboy from the future; to which he doesn’t understand, Ranger’s quirk has nothing to do with cowboys or at least guns. 

“Better get a wiggle on, don’t want big man skinnin’ our hides,” He laughs and smacks Bakugou on the back. Ranger taking long strides ahead of him, spurs clinking against the pavement.

Bakugou thinks he needs to practice more English.

At home, freshly showered and basking in the cool of the air conditioning, he’s ready to practice. He flops into the used couch of his apartment, the newest English volume of Aiko’s Love Club in hand. Reading through the pages, he starts to think about what to make for dinner. Last week you said something about trying unadon recipes, but every time you make it something is off. Bakugou hasn’t cooked eel in a bit, maybe he’ll try a recipe tonight. Show you how the best does it.

He thinks this is the volume where Masa finally realizes how she feels about Aiko, she’s been showing classic signs. Masa thinks about Aiko most hours of the day, associates Aiko with almost everything, goes out of her way to impress Aiko even if she “doesn’t actually care,” etc. Bakugou knows the build-up to a confession when he sees it.

He flicks to the next page and finds his predictions correct, Masa is stomping up to Aiko with a determined look in her eye. As she admits how she feels, the emotions raging in her chest, how she can’t get Aiko out of her mind, Bakugou feels his stomach drop lower and lower. Ah, shit.

He hurls the fifteen-dollar manga across his living room.

The nasty feeling in his stomach is worse when he knows the source. He feels warmth spill into his chest and through his veins when he even accidentally thinks of you, quickly turning to ash when he realizes what he’s doing. 

Bakugou comes to a point after a week of keeping his same schedule with you and trying to kill the little dove in his chest with pure will. He came to America to be the best and he knows he wouldn’t have welcomed this feeling if he was in Japan. And he decided he’ll do what he does best, be a hero.

He throws himself in an unbearably hot, timeless void of wake up, work, eat, sleep. The only thing that lets him know that time is changing is the scruff growing in on his face where he would usually shave by now. Every day feels the same, dragging slowly but the weeks seem to pass with a blink. Bakugou assumed that if he took you out of his life, he'd think about you less. But he still has your number and he sees every text you send when you send it, his heart picking up when he hears a notification, hoping it's you. To try and ease the ache he’ll shoot a message back that's impossible to build more off of. 

You’ve started calling him less– which should’ve made Bakugou feel freer, no more seeing your face pop up on his phone screen (a picture of you making the first recipe he ever sent), no more staring at his phone until your call goes away. But he doesn’t. He can’t tell if he never wants to hear from you again or if he wants to hear your voice until the universe crumbles. 

The average patrol with Ranger consisted of many breaks, to no fault of either hero, but Ranger is weirdly popular in this city. Fans stop them every few blocks for a selfie with the American hero featuring a grumpy-looking Dynamight in the background. This time a group stopped the duo, taking longer than a usual stop was. 

It’s a quiet day, only stopping a few pick-pockets, not even a small villain. The sounds of honking horns and chittering civilians fill the streets, an empty gap in the noise where there would be a bird or two overhead. As Ranger strikes another pose, Bakugou unlocks his phone. The screen shows the last app he used, opening your thread of messages to each other. 

This was the first day you didn’t say good morning to Bakugou. It’s his fault, this is what he wanted. Still, he scrolled through your old texts as he got ready at dawn, eyes prickly. He finds himself a couple of months back thumb stuck on a picture of you at the beach. Your face taking up the left half of the screen, a blinded smile from the sun, Denki and Mina in the back with their usual stupid faces.

“(location: ichigo beach, shima) when u come back i am kidnapping u & taking u here!!! there’s even a trail and the view is incredible! don’t be stupid today :p”

He agrees, the view is incredible. 

A hoot startles him from right next to his ear, “Oo! Pretty as a peach,” Ranger tries to expand the picture, but Bakugou swats his hand away, “See why you’re so homesick loverboy.”

“Not fuckin’ homesick,” he mutters, words coming off of his tongue jutted and short, “S’not like that.”

Ranger laughs when he shoves his phone into his pocket with red ears, “Sure goney, long as you’re both happy.”

His words make Bakugou freeze, staring at the pavement ahead of him. Is he happy? Are you? He doesn’t even have an inkling, he hasn’t asked. It’s not your fault that you make him think of warmth and home, and he’s been fighting every interaction with you on the defensive side of a nonexistent battle. 

He doesn’t know why he was doing this anymore. He wants to know that you’re happy more than whatever he was trying to do. He thinks he might call you for dinner today. 

Before Bakugou can respond, Ranger speaks into his earpiece, nodding towards him to tell him to pay attention to the radio in his ear. He only gets a warning of “-ake quirk,” the ground beneath his feet suddenly cracking and splintering like ice. 

Nitroglycerin sweat meeting explosions saves him from the expanding fissure moving through the city, Ranger pulling the moisture from the air to propel him towards him. He presses his cowboy hat harder to his head, grinning at Bakugou, “Time to knock this chucklefuck into a cocked hat,” he hates all of the phrases Ranger uses, he just guesses what he means and hopes he’s right, “Gotta get you back to your pretty thing.”

Bakugou feels a flush rise over his arms and neck, his body heat rising even if the sweltering sun wasn’t beating down on him. Your pretty thing echoes in his head. His. “Shut your mouth,” he bites, already following the crevice in the ground so he doesn’t have to hear whatever Ranger has to say. 

The villain was in the middle of the city, letting their quirk slowly build up in the faults all day. They announced it in a dramatic fashion, talking about the ins and outs of their abilities. It wasn’t too hard to work them into a corner. 

“Heroes disgust me, the absolute decay of society. Cities are no better, rotting us all, it’s time we all go back from whence we came,” they cough, blood running down the side of their head. Behind them: their freshly made gorge; in front: Dynamight and Ranger. 

The hero duo glances at each other for a second to make a plan, not seeing the villain lower their left hand to the broken street. When they look back, things are moving in slow motion and much too fast. 

Right hand holding their bleeding middle, left glowing a glaring blue in full contact with the tarmac, the ground starting to ripple like water with them at the epicenter. 

Bakugou springs into action quicker than Ranger, racing towards them to separate their hand from the ground. They scream when he blasts himself over them, kicking them into the street, using extra momentum to fly above the valley scraping through the city. The villain had used the last of their energy for the rippling ground, leaving them passed out. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bakugou pants once standing on steady ground. He closes his eyes as he catches his breath, thoughts of you filling his mind. His pretty thing. A small smile starts to grace his face, dropping when feeling unexpectedly cooler. Large shadows arching over the ground. 

“Dynamight!” is the last thing he hears. Ranger rushing towards him and the side of a building much closer than it should be is the last thing he sees. You smiling on the beach is the last thing he thinks of.

vīgintī duo, autumnus

(22) “Where are we going?”

The train shifts back and forth as it barrels down the tracks, you lean further into Bakugou with every sway. “Be patient,” he repeats for the nth time, staring out the window. You thought maybe he’d be tired of you asking by now, but he doesn’t. He’s not tired of you.

An hour ago he called and asked if you were free, you replied that it’s 22:34 on a Thursday, what would you possibly be doing right now, and he said he’d be there in thirty minutes. You heard explosions in the distance fifteen minutes after he hung up. He landed sweaty on your balcony and now you’re on a train to somewhere. The train’s lights are lowered for sleeping passengers, the seat is probably half of its former cushioned glory, and the socks you shoved on are mismatching heights and colors. “Are you kidnapping me?” you ask, leaning against the window, burning the way the train track lights pass over his face into your memory. 

Bakugou looks away from the window to meet your gaze, “Yeah, you scared peach?” His eyes run over your face, the way his plush red scarf is stuffed half-heartedly into your hoodie, how the heels of your sneakers are pressed to the insoles instead of you putting them on completely.

You pull your knees to your chest, chin rubbing against the worn fabric of your sweatpants. “Sure, why am I being kidnapped?” You grab his hands while he’s rubbing them together for warmth, placing them underneath your chin, cushioned between your knees and the bulk of your sweatshirt. “‘ts gross that they don’t use the heaters past 20:00,” you sigh, putting your hands under your knees.

His cheeks turn to a soft shade of pink watching you get comfortable and stare up at him with his palms pressed against each other under your face. “There was something I forgot to do on my calendar,” he eventually mutters, “Couldn’t go to sleep.”

You frown to fight your smile, “You’re forcing me on a midnight errand?” 

“Something like that.”

You fall asleep for the rest of the hour-long ride, Bakugou leaning his head against yours once your breathing mellowed out.

“Oi, wake up.”

You groan as you blink your eyes open, sleep sitting heavy in your muscles, Bakugou’s hands pushing your knees. You bat his hands away, “Kats’ki knock t’off,” tongue removing unnecessary syllables. He snorts and pushes your face towards the window. 

Ichigo beach.

It’s a clear sky, full moon rippling across the shallow waves, barely swaying grass telling you that it’s not a windy night, stars shining down at you. Staring out the window at the night view of the ocean, Bakugou admires your growing smile through your reflection in the glass. He wonders if you can tell he feels love moving through his body every time you smile. That he can feel his heart in his brain when you look at him. When you speak. You might be better off not knowing, he thinks, you would try to give him a heart attack on purpose.

Hopping off of the train into the salty air, your whole body wakes up. Rejuvenated by the sounds of waves washing up on the shore, you stretch and look up at Bakugou. You smile, “What now?” 

“Midnight errand,” he says, pressing a warm hand to your back to nudge you forward. 

“I know that, but what is it?”

He gives you his meanest smile of the night, you almost trip over your shoes at the sight of it, “Be patient.” The funny feeling races up your spine.

You smack his hand off of your back with a huff, “Fine.” And you follow him.

Walking down the short trail to shore, you let your shoes sink into the sand for a few metres before peeling your shoes and socks off, holding them in one hand. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly says, broad back facing you. The nonexistent eyes of the skull drawing on his hoodie are glaring down at you making your feet shift in the cold sand. 

“You gonna throw me in the sea or something?” you joke, unsure of how to respond to the sudden apology.

He stops and you almost run your face square into his back, “Hate that I made you cry. You really forgive me for that?” Bakugou turns around and looks down at you. You’re much closer than you realized, the moon is behind him giving his silhouette a muted white glow. Shadows of his face are unbearably dramatic. “I wouldn’t forgive a dipshit for making you cry,” he finishes, his hands hovering over your arms.

You could laugh, the movement held back by the actual tinges of pain on his face. It’s been three years since he basically ghosted you for a few months, it’s almost impressive the way it has clearly been straining him. He apologized almost bi-monthly over the phone after having drinks with the other sidekicks all the way until he came back. You assumed you both got over it, he never mentioned it after he landed. You can’t remember everything you said. You were nearly blackout drunk on that call, sure there were separate instances where you cried but there’s no way he knows that.

 “I forgave you, because you’re you,” you smile and grab his hand, both of yours fitting in his outstretched hand, “Even if you act like a dipshit sometimes.”

His eyes start to get shinier as he squeezes your hands, “That’s so fuckin’ stupid,” he presses his molars against each other, “you’re so fuckin’ stupid for that.” 

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid?” You laugh and grab his jaw to relax it, “You’re stupid, what are we doing on the beach in the middle of the night? You’re usually home by now.”

Bakugou’s jaw loosens and he sighs, moving his face closer to yours. You freeze, your heartbeat thumping through your whole body as he presses his forehead to yours. He stares directly into your eyes and he’s all you can see. Soft exhales meeting yours, the waves crashing behind him, your hand in his. 

“I am,” he says, “I am home.”

Katsuki lifts his hands to your face, cradling your cheeks, “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

You nod and as his lips press to yours, you realize there’s nowhere you can think of as home but him.

ichigo for strawb ;P

[theloveinc]

Bakugou who tears up seeing you in pain during labor🥺. Imagine if u had one of those long hours of labor, maybe around/over 48 hours some women (or maybe quite a lot idk) go through.. he'll be absolutely restless the whole time worrying about u. and he hates feeling so helpless where he can't do anything to take ur pain away. He can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through. And then cries again after holding your baby for the first time😭, kinda like yr sympathy pains hc for bkg🥺

OHHH Bakugo being also affected by your labor is one of my favorite concepts… I even wrote something for it on IHB a while back.

So YES!!! Your labor is absolutely awful for him, which he knows is somewhat unfair given that you’re the one actually giving birth, but… HE CAN’T HELP IT!!! Like you said, he's used to fixing problems, not waiting them out, and esp. not when you're the one hurting :(((

But now that baby is arriving, it’s like all his anxieties from the past nine months (that he did his best to hide for your sake) are finally catching up to him… and turning him into this frazzled mess in trying to do more for you than just sit there and hold your hand.

(He's always worried about something. If you're content, he's up and fussing with the AC. If the AC is fine, he's worrying about if you need a snack. If you don't want a snack, he's getting mad at the curtains for blowing around. It never stops ajsdfjkadsj)

It’s funny though, because even through his immense panic and up-and-down jitters… he’s still an absolute guard dog. He’s nervous yeah, but not for himself… FOR YOU, which means he’s doing anything and everything in his power (literally, even fighting with the doctor) to make sure your birth plan is followed and your wishes are granted.

(Tracking down nurses who are taking too long, finding foods you’ll eat, snarling when the doctor suggests something you already covered in an earlier conversation...)

And it’s only in between these moments, when you’re fed, in bed, and getting ready to push that he’s really letting the tears fall. Wincing whenever you cry out, sweating through his clothes as he waits and watches (he doesn't even notice how hard you're squeezing his arm); his literally heart doesn’t stop pounding for even a second until baby’s out and you’re smiling at him with them in your arms.

And yeah... he's absolutely crying when he holds your baby. And tearing up just a little bit those few few days after, too... which is funny because he's such a clingy daddy. The second you fall asleep, need to eat, use the restroom... he's holding your baby and not putting them down lol (crying at the thought of them nuzzling into his worn flannel BYE).

It's a cute sight though, when your friends and family come to visit and you're all on the bed as one unit cuddling and crying <333

[ms0milk]

𝟓 | 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You test one finger first, and then two more at the sharp angle of his jaw and press gently– and then immediately even more gently than that when his teeth unclench at your warmth. His face goes slack and he tilts his cheek into your palm. Is this how a dragon sleeps?"

no cw agonizingly soft way to wake up, first (nonviolent lmao) touches holds and caresses + touch-starved bkg. author cannot be without kirishima for a single chapter. reader has pierced ears from childhood to adulthood, obligatory queen mitsuki flashback. an ominous Takoba welcome and the great big sea 3.9k

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Eyes open to warm sun rays and a sigh of relief can’t be helped. It was all only a dream.

You breathe in deep and slow and lift sore arms to tug the blankets up over your head, as high as they can go until you’re back under the dark and your bare toes poke out in the cool.

You can still feel the warmth of the morning sun bleed into the bedding, the floral of clean linens, the dip of the mattress so soft at your hips and shoulders that when you start to uncurl your legs you revel in silk swallowing your skin. Had you ever before taken the time to sink your fingers between a sheet and the cool underside of your pillow?

Someone’s breath adds to the symphony of the cream calm morning and it is so wonderful to be home.

It's salty. You roll to your side and curl up tight all while pulling the sheets into a nest around you, grumbling and sighing and smiling and squeaking with the stretch. It must be time to eat if kitchen spices have wound their way through the castle to your little bedroom and all the way into your sheets, and so you peek your face through a fold in the blanket.

Cool breezes prickle your nose and the prince looks so peaceful sleeping beside you, crisp white pillows, golden sun and all. Your lips twitch wanting to smile and then your body jerks up onto an elbow in panic.

The prince is fast asleep on a bed not one pillow’s length away from yours. Blond hair shags across his forehead in soft little spikes, across the bridge of his sharp nose and cheek. His left cheek, the one he chews when he holds back curses. Your heart pounds with the instinct to stand, to leave the room, but you remind yourself that it’s just a dream. So you hold your stare and slowly lower yourself back onto your satin pillow.

He’s in a white tunic, linen maybe, with that familiar silvery inlay around the open collar. And he must run hot you think, because the blankets are all kicked into a bunch at the foot of his little bed. Why do you always dream of this family?

You squish your cheek into the sheets pensively, but finally, relaxed. The prince breathes out of a scowl that melts every time he inhales and his breath is a little sour with morning. You could touch him if you only slipped your hand out of your blanket. You do.

He’s not even two feet away. Your beds practically touch and just how many times will you let the Bakugous shift through your dreams without asking them what you’ve done to trap them there?

He clenches the fist beside his head when you brush your fingertips over his knuckles. Just the pads of your fingers. Just the testing press of your thumb against the side of his hand where his leathery palms begin.

It’s hot, and a little clammy. He’s so soft and you don’t realize that you’re leaning closer until you’re at the edge of your little bed and even then you don’t pay the distance much mind because when the press of your touch is firm enough not to be ticklish, brows furrow and his lips curl into a sweet hint of a snarl. So much like a cat that you smile.

Bakugou doesn’t look anything like he did when he was younger, when he’d fall asleep plumdrunk in the orchards with a book beside his head. Or when you’d see his little arms over his father’s shoulder as the king carried him to his room from a too-late party. His clothes never quite fit right when he was that little– weird kid. Kind kid. You still remember how his hands felt around yours at six years old and now he’s a man who makes the most beautiful magic with those same hands that you’ll never be held by again.

The prince’s muscular frame fills his bedclothes to their every seam and it doesn’t feel appropriate that you’ve made him so beautiful in your dreams.

You take your fingertips to his cheek now and sweep away bits of blond hair so that you can watch the way his teeth dig into his lip. When your fingers touch his skin, he rumbles, a quiet growl from the deepest part of his chest and you’d retreat if you were awake but his body is so warm that you can feel it on your skin, through your blanket, a whole arms length away, and there’s nothing that could convince you now not to trace the outline of his face like a sculpture.

You use one finger first, and then two more at the sharp angle of his jaw and press gently– and then immediately even more gently than that when his teeth unclench at your warmth. His face goes slack and he tilts his cheek into your palm. Is this how a dragon sleeps?

Yes, yes the possessive kind, on a mountain of treasure, with very little patience for thieves.

The prince’s hand jumps from its spot clenching sheets and snatches yours up in a startling grip. Hoping alongside desperation that he is still a dream, your eyes dart from his face to his fist and back again twice more and when his scowl melts into a limp press of his cheek against the pillow, you breathe again.

If Bakugou blinked awake he would be only inches away from his unprofessional guard with her head poking out of brown blankets. The pair of you are too close to see anything past your own sun drenched faces and maybe if you could look away for long enough, the edge of the beds. He would register your empty, peaceful eyes and maybe he’d start to carry on about just how close you’d gotten and his sparks, purple, green, pink, orange, red, would flare up around you.

Instead he only holds your hand under his chin. He slots his thumb into your palm and cradles the back of your knuckles in heavy fingers– and when his body rises in deep breath he brushes those knuckles with sleepy, rhythmic fingertips.

“Y/n?”

You turn around to address the new voice, carefully enough from the prince’s hold that neither he nor your beds make a single hiss, creak or growl. Just how many people have you conjured up for this dream?

Ten or so feet away is Kaminari, and he smiles at you from across a room that is not yours, and is certainly not in Aldera. It’s a long white space that curves as it continues well around the corner. Window after little window line the far wall and beds line the other. Are they hospital beds? You and the prince breathe softly next to each other at one end of the room.

The only other beds occupied are a bit of a distance away; Kaminari under the same brown blankets you mistook for your own, and Sero, clearly sleeping very peacefully beside him. Mina is here too, curled up uncomfortably in a wooden chair with her head in his lap. The room is long but tight and in the distance between you is a door, to the hallway presumably.

Kaminari raises a finger to his lips to keep you from waking his friends and smiles, “You’re safe.”

You’re sitting up before you have the time to process that this isn’t a dream at all. In a panic, you whip back around and to the tune of bittersweet horror the prince lays just as beautifully and peacefully as you thought you had dreamt. Cheek squished into his pillow and a warm hold on your hand. He shifts a bit and sinks deeper into what must be a sleep of the dead. His ears are unsettlingly empty of their golden jewelry.

The events from last night come flooding back and Takoba, and all of its marbled determent, flies into full focus. Are you in the castle hospital? Were you wounded? The prince doesn’t fight when you slip your hand from his. Has he been seen by a doctor? You don’t wait to catch his fist clench slowly around nothing.

You are miraculously alive. A pair of wool slippers meet your toes instead of stone when you lower your feet to the ground and so your agitated train of thought goes on uninterrupted. Kaminari smiles while you think at the edge of your bed, and closes his eyes again.

Beside you, the prince’s reading book sits pale atop a small bedside table. The one you saw him with it half a dozen times on the journey. Images of supplies and carriage gear flash through your brain, taking a sort of inventory of items you must have lost to the fire. Your satchel and brand new socks. Jeanist’s halberd. Your dragontooth brooch.

While you mourn, you slip your earrings from your ear.

If you’re truly awake and the hell of yesterday has passed, the prince will still need Aldera jewelry to avoid whatever terrible fate he thinks this place has store for him. Whatever that means. Even if you never found his earrings in the forest. Even if it must be these.

It was brutally cold the morning the queen arrived with her small gift, the day that you became Jeanist’s apprentice. She beamed when she knelt before you in your bedroom doorway and the candlelight in the hall made her thick black cape glow white at the edges,

“These are magic, you know?”

You remember hearing your heartbeat in your ears for the first time at this, like nothing had ever made you quite so excited in all your life, “Are they really, your Majesty?”

“Mhm.” The golden suns were hardly bigger than apple seeds and they dangled from hooks pinched between the queen’s fingers. Lighter than air. She slipped them both into your ears and cupped your little cheeks, resting her forehead against yours. “This is serious, Y/n.”

You gulped.

“A real powerhouse of spells went into these–”

“Majesty, really?”

The queen’s faux gravity disintegrated instantly, but she carried on as best she could while squishing your cheeks together and melting into your squeals of joy, “Yes– yes!” She roared happily, at your rare laughter, “Y/n they will keep you safe. When you wear these, the strength of Aldera will always be with you.”

The queen pulled her face from yours grinning, to tuck her short hair behind one ear and you can still feel the aching crescents your nails dug into your palm by way of how very hard your fists trembled, because when her own little suns twinkled against her jaw you dedicated your life to her.

So now you press the charms to her son’s leather book and try not to linger long on precious memories. It’s time to work, and to find Kirishima. “Rest well,” you whisper to Kaminari.

Slipping from the sick room is easier than you think it should be; the royal hospital at Aldera boasts three or four guards at all hours of the day but this hallway outside is empty. Empty and bleak in a fit of white marble and a striking lack of rugs.

The desolation of Takoba Castle startles you, at least in this hospital wing. The same smooth marble you faced outside last night climbs up imposing white hallway walls that reach into high arches, and really does make you feel as if in a seashell. Even more like you’re a rock at the bottom of a great sea and the surface is lingering much too high for you to reach. You’ll drown here. There is no levity.

No artwork or rugs, not a single hint of a welcome party, no smell of food, not even a doctor. It is silent except for your breath as you click the hospital door closed behind you. You want to take the prince back home, where it's warm and where bandits don’t try your lives. Takoba is already infuriating.

An empty chair to the right of the door suggests a jarringly relaxed guard schedule. A guard who, when they return from between the legs of whichever lover must be keeping them from their work will stand very still and listen very carefully to their new schedule, and will thank you on their knees for your patience. You’ll need to find someone to man this post while you drag the absentee physician back to your prince’s sick bed.

“You’re looking absolutely murderous this morning, Y/n.”

Before you recognize the voice, you jerk your hand around the knob of the hospital door to keep any new ghosts from entering the place where your prince is finally safe. But it’s Kirishima. Sweet, warm Kirishima seated in a chair on the other side of the doorframe with your red halberd perched between his legs.

He’s smiling– he’s looking up at you and he places a calm hand over yours that is so convincing you release your vice on the door, “We’re safe.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not a scratch, miss guard.”

And you smile too.

You peer out the window at the end of the hall while Kirishima sits beside the hospital door. It’s difficult not wincing as you categorize your new surroundings, because it’s even colder outside than it is in, with the autumn wind whipping up to the clouds. Your nightgown doesn’t keep the prince’s sleepy warmth against you.

A hundred feet in the air, you crane down, down, down, from the tiny white window, below, where Takoba is split in two. On one side a bustling city with cobbled roads, shops, homes, families, soldiers all milling about, and on the other a black and hungry void. The sea churns and froths with starving foam mouths. White rabbits dance.

“Is this how you imagined it?”

You shake your head.

The chilling cool of the marble castle is less awful when you’re not alone, but if this was Aldera, heavy rugs would already be stacked one over the other in a patchwork of reds and browns to cover the wooden floors. Velvet tapestries go up over the trees that reach inside from windows, woolen blankets appear at the foot of every bed, and fires rage all day long in the fireplaces around the castle’s main rooms. Takoba doesn’t seem to know warmth.

You don’t hear the clank of armored greaves on white marble but you do hear the name of your companion, and then your own, being called in a sweet voice behind you. You’re about to sit down with Kirishima and ask him about the fight, about how he escaped last night, but the champion turns before you can and smiles, “Uraraka!”

“Long time no see.” The guard from last night smiles right back. She comes around the hallway bend towards you.

Uraraka is in a half suit of armor, silver from the waist down. You can’t imagine what kind of training requires such an outfit, but before you can ask, or kneel before her, or thank her, or even approach– she calls your name again, a name you didn’t give her, and points down the hall, “Your presence is requested in the throne room.”

You don’t think about the strange quiet of the castle past your fury, so you nod and move to follow the guard without much protest. She’ll at least be able to help you find the doctor, and you are in absolutely no position to decline a queen.

“Kirishima, please stay with the prince.” The champion smiles first at the guard waiting, and then to you, and nods. Your halberd is still perched in his arms and you think it’s best not to approach a new throne room armed. “And make a good show of that weapon when our sentinel returns from their break.”

Kirishima scrunches up his nose in silent laughter and salutes.

His red hair disappears behind the curve of the hallway as you fall in line with your Takoban escort. Down a few steps and through an archway, the tight hallway opens up considerably. The hospital wing– a passageway really in comparison now– must be tucked into a small section of the castle and you scold yourself a bit for being so judgemental of a kingdom you know nothing about.

This long foyer is towering, vaulted ceilings just as tall as the ones in the hospital. The walk is lined with a vibrant blue runner, and above, ornate windows glint one after the other in the slanted roof. Your nightgown whips around your calves with a draft.

Are the windows so large because you can’t build a fireplace in fine marble? Is this entire building carved from a single rock? The uniformity of the stone is incredible. As you walk in silence, you can’t point out a single seam from construction and when you’re looking this closely you’re struck by figures carved into the walls in neat rows.

Birds and stars, a few tiny men, great fires– none of these carvings is larger than a plum and they blend too easily into the white marble for you to discern properly while keeping pace with your escort. The details in the fairy carriage were delicate like this too.

There’s a rumbling of voices coming into focus somewhere deep in the castle. Like ghosts in the walls.

“How are you feeling?” The guard asks and you turn your attention from the walls to her round cheeks peeking over her shoulder. She’s slowed down so that you’re no longer trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” you say carefully and accept her invitation to walk side by side, “for last night. For escorting Prince Bakugou inside. And myself.”

“Should I have let you bleed out in the courtyard?” This girl has the face of someone who wants, always, to be smiling. She’s not tall, has no weapons, and wouldn't be difficult to overcome in an emergency but how is that that she walks so quietly in solid armor?

“I was injured?”

“You didn’t feel it?” Uraraka’s brown eyes soften a bit when you shake your head, “A few nicks here and there. The problem was that gash under your arm." She rests her hand on your bicep and taps her fingers suggestively, keeping pace, "Poisoned."

The prince cut his hand on that little arrowhead and the blade that struck you couldn't have been bigger than a hairpin for you to have missed its impact. Poison, of all things. Feeling your body now there isn’t a single scratch and this morning the prince’s hands were perfect– perfectly fine. Not even bandages. You’d save your quickly blooming bout of questions for the doctor.

The present regains your attention awhen Uraraka pulls you around another corner. "There's only one bandit in the area that works with poison," her voice is soft, conspiratory, "She could have teamed up with this flame mage to attack your caravan last night. I told Shoto not to send you such a lavish carriage–"

"I don't think that man was trying to rob us."

Like any city, Takoba has its bandits and thieves. Aldera too, could never rid itself of every rotten marksman in the kingdom, but this mage knew your party. Knew that Master Aizawa was with you. He’d trailed you for gods know how long and knew that you came from Aldera.

You hope Aizawa is safe. You hope Shinsou made it back along with your injured company.

The dull drone of voices grows louder as your escort guides the pair of you from the foyer to a passageway, obviously winding about to some grand destination. Everything in Takoba so far is a maze. You’re ushered under a low archway.

“Do you have their names, Miss Uraraka?”

The guard chuckles and clanks down a set of narrow stairs behind you, “The bandits? Are you investigating on your first day here?”

“Yes.”

“When we finally identify Takoba's league of masked villains, you'll be the first to know.” Her voice echoes a bit in the tight space. She’s still smiling, “And take a left here.”

The windowless stairwell opens up into a space that takes a few seconds to comprehend. You and Uraraka stand under the shadow of a great staircase in an even greater room and she smiles as your lips part. However many stories the castle had, this room was as tall as the highest.

Little windows dot its vast walls on two sides, but they don’t look outside, no, internal windows above great open balconies are all completely contained within this one place. They’re glimpses into the rest of the castle and perfect for staff and guests alike to spy on the grandeur of the entrance hall from anywhere in the maze. The Takoban crest hangs on a flag in rich blues at the center of all four walls. The trim– you can barely see so high in the air– is molded into a length of crashing waves that wrap around the room from above, and even higher than that is the mural at the ceiling.

Is it the stars? The sea? Cool blues and greens whip a frenzy around metallic constellations that make the room feel both, even taller, and even brighter.

You creep out from behind the shadow of the staircase to get a better look. This outer side is lined with that familiar blue quilt, but the wall of it goes up forty feet and must do the same at each end. Coming around the corner, you’re met with the polished white marble of no fewer than two hundred steps.

You can picture the Takoban queen descending in silence for a great many minutes, clicking, twinkling, to the sound of a room filled with bated, unbreathing, awe.

“Follow me,” your escort laughs, and while you are quick to fall behind her, she does not have your attention.

Straight ahead of the staircase are doors– the doors, gods– what must be the castle’s front entrance is sealed by the two largest wooden doors possibly ever made. The area around Takoba is bare beach because they’ve cut down the forest to mold these gargantuan things. They’re tall and that goes without saying, but they’re also laden in blue stones and silver. Metalworks create stars in the wood and cover great sharp angles with forged curves. It must take ten men to open each one.

“Over here,” Uraraka guides you across the expanse of the room to a much more modest set of doors. Less grand but still probably dreamed up by great elven silversmiths. You follow her without fight.

Looking back, the tight stairwell you emerged from is nothing but a chip in the architecture now, put to such a formidable scale. You're little more than a speck. Takoba is haunting, yes, but very, very beautiful.

Uraraka says something too quiet to hear over the din of mixed voices. They’re muted and bouncing off the impossibly high walls of this grand entryway. Who is speaking?

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You turn back sharply, unsure of how many times the guard has tried to get your attention.

Uraraka must have knocked because the silver doors part in front of you and a roar of voices burst from the crack. Sunlight too, so bright you can’t see inside without squinting, and then you realize you’re expected to move.

Your escort’s face comes back into focus and it's kind, “Don’t be scared, I’ll walk with you.” She offers you her arm as the doors open wider and when you don’t budge she takes your hand.

“How do you know my name?” You try to ask over the consuming throng of voices and light.

“Your prince told me.”

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[deadwriter16]

This is for the bkg fanfic ask game: Kacchako fight and/or reconciliation

It is simple but it’s all I could think of..-

all good! a simple prompt is always good :)

ive never thought abt what a kcchko fight wld be like...i have a lot of bkdk fight ideas but not a lot for these two...but i came up with one in the end. this one is like just under 1k. i hope you enjoy!! <3

----------

It’s nine at night when Ochako finally gains the courage to knock on the door. It’s not that she’s scared, she just doesn’t want to knock on that door until she feels worthy of it. Her boyfriend is probably rubbing off on her, but his integrity is not a trait she wishes to be rid of.

Normally Bakugou would be asleep by now, but Ochako knows he stays up later when he’s upset for fear that the bad feelings might trigger nightmares. Bakugou has awful ones, and Ochako hates nothing more than waking up in the middle of the night to Bakugou tossing and turning, a don’t come, Deku, leaving his gasping lips. Hands trembling at the memories, Ochako sets her shoulders and knocks.

“Katsuki? It’s Ochako. Can I come in?”

There’s a muffled grunt from inside, which Ochako takes as the invitation inside that it is. Katsuki’s sitting against the pillows of his bed, fidgeting with a Deku stress ball she got him as a joke. Ochako laughs quietly at the sight; she loves moments when Katsuki isn’t angry. When he’s calm and soft, rhythmically squishing the stress ball with uncharacteristic tranquility.

Ochako hates that he’s only like this because of what she did. She knows Bakugou’s cycle of emotions: anger, then sadness, and then the calm before the storm starts once again. And Ochako has never longed more for the storm.

Ochako walks over to the bed and nudges Bakugou, who moves over so she can sit. She gingerly invites herself onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows and sighing. Ochako loves how secretly kind Bakugou is. Nowadays, at least. He’s really changed for the better, and nothing makes Ochako happier.

“Um, I wanted to say sorry,” Ochako starts, “for earlier.”

Bakugou just shrugs. “Ain’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

“Exactly, I didn’t know,” Ochako says, “I shouldn’t have assumed anything. That was really awful of me, and I’m so sorry I said all those things."

It’s their first big fight as a couple, too. Bakugou told her he’s going to visit his parents over the weekend, and Ochako had asked if she could come with. Bakugou had refused, immediately closing off and not explaining why he said no. Ochako had come to the baseless and wrong conclusion that Bakugou was ashamed of her, which escalated into a screaming match in the common room.

“You don’t know shit about my parents,” Bakugou had yelled, “I don’t fuckin’ want you to meet ‘em because of them, not ‘cause of you, dumbass!”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Ochako had yelled back, “why are you so ashamed of me, Bakugou? Why are you ashamed that someone cares about you? Why are you so goddamn afraid of being vulnerable?”

“Because of my fucking parents,” Bakugou hissed, “because my old hag won’t let me be vulnerable under her goddamn roof, because that means I’m weak and being weak means I get hurt. So don’t act like you know shit about me.”

And then he’d walked out of the common room, and Ochako felt like shit. She went to Deku afterwards, who gave her a good scolding before telling her to give Bakugou some space and then offer a sincere apology. Ochako is so glad her best friend is the Bakugou-reader. She’s getting good at deciphering Bakugou herself, but having Deku around gives her a nice head start. So now here Ochako is, delivering her apology on Bakugou’s bed, unconsciously moving closer to him, seeking his warmth.

“I shouldn’t have fuckin’ yelled,” Bakugou insists, “it was my fault for gettin’ so pissed at you when you just didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself, ‘Chako.”

“But I shouldn’t have just assumed things like that!” Ochako argues, “I let my insecurities get the best of me, even though I know that you've never been ashamed of a damn thing in your life! When you choose to have something, you’re always proud of it. I know you’re proud of me, just like I’m proud of you. I should have realized there was something more going on with why you didn’t want me to meet your parents. Please stop insisting it was your fault, Katsuki. It was mine.”

Bakugou frowns, looking pained, “but-”

“Katsuki,” Ochako whispers, reaching out to place her hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together, “you are not always the one who hurts people. Sometimes, other people will hurt you. And you’re allowed to be mad at them for it. It’s not karma, you don’t deserve it. I was wrong. And you’re allowed to say that.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, and Ochako uses her free hand to smooth out the distress with her finger, watching as his expression crumbles under the touch. Sometimes it just breaks Ochako’s heart how foreign gentleness is to Katsuki.

“...Thanks,” Bakugou mutters under his breath, “I, uh, accept your apology.”

“I’m glad,” Ochako smiles, fully closing the distance between them to place her head on his shoulder. Bakugou wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head, resting his cheek on her hair. Ochako closes her eyes, relaxing into Bakugou’s warmth. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou doesn’t say it back much, and Ochako doesn’t expect him to. She’s getting close to fluent in her boyfriend’s language anyway, and she knows that his way of saying I love you too is in his actions. It’s in the way he holds her a little tighter, hooking a finger under her chin to lift her face up and bend down to kiss her. Ochako can’t help but sniffle a bit, because how did she get so goddamn lucky?

“How did I get so goddamn lucky?” Ochako says out loud, because she wants Bakugou to know how happy she is. For good measure, she leans up and kisses his cheek, letting her smile grow against his glycerin-smooth summer freckles.

Bakugou chuckles, soft and fond. “That’s my line, ‘Chako.”

[ihatebnha]

you know that jesus-disappointing-time position where both people are laying on the bed, if it makes sense? that, ft. soft lovin with the one and only bkg hahaha i would eat a chair to lay my head against his chest while doing the you know what with him </3

Legend, I have no idea which pose you mean, but I’m assuming it’s something like this (I’m literally stupid so tell me why i googled “jesus-disappointing-time position” LMFAO)?

Because if so... WHEW i screamed... i would do more than eat a chair for that... baby i would give up a finger or two tbh.... an entire hand, maybe... 

I bet Bakugo just lovesss that position, too...  I can just see him enjoying the fact that it’s intimacy but still rather low-effort... like, he barely has to ask for you to climb on top of his chest, and when you do, you’re only really separated from this by a few steps and a couple pieces of cloth. It’s like you already know what he wants when you see him laying around your apartment all grumpy-looking and topless... 

But he doesn’t just like this position when he’s craving that chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin contact (which I know he secretly adores), because I also see it being his go-to tactic when he’s been getting home too late to really fuck you properly. 

He comes home after work exhausted to find you already in bed? Of course he’s waking you up by pulling you onto his chest for a little sleepy-time slow action... happy to do most of the hip rolling work and petting as long as you’re content to lay on him and press kisses to his chest and jaw just a little bit...

And when you fall back asleep like that, too? Still squeezing his hands, cheek on his chest. SHEESH. He wakes up feeling like he hadn’t even gotten home late.  

It’s so versatile, too... Okay, not that versatile, but the fact that this position works on surfaces other than the bed? It’s really no wonder that watching a movie and snuggling turns into this, or even just sitting on his lap in the single, cozy armchair in his office... 

Definitely one of his faves. 

[katutsukushii]

small cats purr. big cats chuff. consider prime alpha bkg never purring and the class is a little confused cuz theyre heard even shouto purr by now but bakugou never does. until one day maybe after his rut (its the first time theyre close enough to comfort him afterwards) theyre all in a giant cuddle pile, and katsuki starts making these deep, weird huffy noises. and at first theyre a little confused but they quickly realize what hes doing and theyre completely endeared. just. happy big katsuki

Had to go lie down after reading this and just think about Katsuki chuffing. This is free serotonin right here.

He doesn’t even realize that the others are confused over it, he’s just casually living his life as if they aren’t staring at him every second of every day, waiting for him to make a sound.

And he definitely doesn’t realize that they all seem to have come up with a mission - to make him purr. 

So whenever someone brings him food, blankets, compliments him and tells him how strong he is, how good of a provider he is, how delicious his cooking is, he just gruffs out a thanks and moves on, not noticing the sad look on all their faces. 

At some point they just want to give up, they feel as if it’s their fault, they can never make him relaxed or happy enough to just let go and purr already.

But then, after a particularly difficult rut, Katsuki texts all of them, asking them to come to his room. When they come in, he’s curled up in bed, eyes red and puffy from crying as he croons and chirps, trying to get them all to come closer.

And they do. Immediately, they’re rushing towards him, laying around him and holding him tightly, scenting him and making sure he’s comfortable.

Just as they’re all about to fall asleep, even Katsuki seems to be halfway there, they hear it - he starts to chuff. It’s a deep, gravelly sort of sound. At first, they have no clue what’s happening but it only takes them a few seconds to realize. Straight away, their throats rumble with matching purrs, Katsuki’s scent growing happy and content as he snuggles deeper into his pillow.

[134340am]

YUNA!! i just read the drabble and i LOVED THE ANGST, like where was he going?? who was the gift bag for?? (no seriously cause i need to know NOW), the yellow scrunchie?? i would simply move out so when he comes back there’s nothing left for him, ugh it was DELICIOUS!! kisses n hugs thanks for always keeping my bakugou brainrot on track :)

NICOLE BABY <3 i’m so so glad you loved it!!! (& sorry again for hitting you with some more bkg angst… i thought up the idea while half asleep and i couldn’t let it go, so 😞)

the gift bag & hair tie -> open to interpretation, heh

but!!! while i was writing it i kinda kept in mind two possible endings (& if i were to write a part 2 it’ll be based on 1 of the 2 below):

1. bkg has a partner that he’s staying with and he doesn’t want reader to know. the hair tie is theirs and so is the gift bag. bkg came back to fetch more stuff like clothes, electronics, etc… which is why his bag was stuffed full. he didn’t want to use a luggage bag or a duffel because that’d probably make reader crazy mad

2. bkg is doing hero / villain stuff!!! but reader doesn’t know (again) lol. hair tie belongs to colleagues, gift bag is for higher ups. he can’t talk about why he needs to leave because it’s classified information and stuff, and he’s in a hurry (such that he can’t even stay to clean his room or at least dust off his desk) because someone needs help

i also left reader and bkg’s relationship open to interpretation buuuut while i was writing the piece i was thinking of them as roommates 🙂

HONESTLY I’D MOVE OUT TOO but i’d spend the whole time wondering if he’d miss me OR if he’d even come back… because he was gone for three weeks this time—who knows when we’ll see him next? :-(

anyways i’m rambling a little now hehe but thank you so so much as always for coming back and telling me what you liked about the piece! 🥺 i appreciate the feedback very much and it makes me happy knowing that you’re curious about the items mentioned and bkg’s whereabouts… it makes me feel like i’ve written the piece successfully :*) love you bubs, and i promise my next bkg piece will be a fluffy one to make up for all the angst i’ve been writing lately hehe

[bitegrip]

Can I do an ask where you talk about how Baku and Deku would act with each other when they are sick? Thks✨

if deku did smth to get sick (like stay out in the rain) bakugo’s vibe would look something like this:

“kacchan i feel awful....”

“sucks to suck i guess”

but he’d be a relentless caretaker anyway

he’d cook deku food, sleep on his floor so he can keep an eye on him, build him a literal fort to rest in, he’d probably even do his homework for him if he deemed it appropriate lmao

despite his relentlessness he’d be really chill about it, since he’d see it as just a normal thing to do when your bf is sick

deku would think he was delirious w his fever until the next time he gets sick & bakugo acts the same way

when bakugo is sick, which rarely happens, it’s always something nasty like strep throat or the flu

he’s definitely the kind of person who would power through feeling like shit until he can’t get out of bed, and he’d be unnervingly good at hiding it while he does

but the flu is. the flu and unfortunately bakugo can’t win against germs

he’d hate being sick and hate being around ppl while sick even more and probably wouldn’t want anyone to come near him, even deku

that being said he’d be sick enough that he needs someone to at least check on him & bring him food & stuff which is where deku would step in

he’s the only one who can do it, too, bc he’s the only person bkg can tolerate in his space when he’s like that

deku would be a worrywart but respect the boundary

bkg would sleep most of the time so when deku’s coming to deliver dinner or something there’d be a lot of Lovingly Concerned Staring

deku would also do stuff bakugo didn’t ask him to while he’s sleeping, like empty his trash or replace his tissues or wash his dirty clothes

meanwhile sick deku would be a clingy mess

i don’t think he’d be too concerned about cuddling or anything, but he’d crave someone taking care of him

like hand-feeding him and shit lmao

but he’d never ask for it, and probably insist that he’s okay and doesn’t want anyone to worry and all That

which is why bakugo tending to him so closely & relentlessly would make him all happy and bashful

and if he’s sick enough he would get clingy in a physical sense, esp if he’s got shivers bc bakugo’s naturally really warm

except bakugo absolutely doesn’t want to get sick too lol

so the compromise would be a face mask and deku swaddled in blankets so their skin doesn’t make contact

this one is getting long too so i’ll just end on the visual of them both falling asleep in deku’s room holding hands w bkg on the floor & deku on his bed