#sunbeam writes bakugou

[biussworld]

Help

Here’s my first fic submission for the @bnhabookclub​ writers’ event! Click here if you’d like to apply for the server!

Also, just a quick lil’ message. This was a fic I whipped up after being stagnant for quite a while so everything’s pretty rusty and shit tbh but!!! I still kinda like it, because I do tend to gravitate towards light-hearted domestic stuff especially with my blasty Lord Baku.

I was inspired by a Bakugou cosplay vid on Tiktok but I couldn’t find the video anymore so,,, there’s that?

Lastly, huuuuge thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​ for beta reading! 

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Reader

Genre: Uh, fluff. Sort of crack-ish. 

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word Count: 919

Prompt #9 “Your lips are really warm” from the provisional license exam event.

"DAMN IT!"

Bakugou's loud voice hollered down the hallways of the supposedly quiet 1-A dorm, reaching even the lowest floor despite him being ways above. You and your classmates hanging out in the common area shared glances, silently nominating who's going up there to check on the class' resident gremlin. All eyes fell on Kirishima, the poor boy was just sipping on his juice carton as he raised both hands in the air in protest. Everyone let him off with a nod, which means...

It's gotta be you.

"No. No, I'm not going." You haphazardly dropped your plate onto the coffee table, shooting Iida an apologetic glance before walking off to the direction of your room.

"But you're the only one who could tame him, aside from Kirishima. And he's already said no, so... You really should do it!" Mina's cheery voice rang in your ears, her harsh grip on your arm making you wince in discomfort as she pulls you towards the elevator. You stare her down as she punches Bakugou’s floor number in, squinting hard when she waves teasingly as the elevator doors shut.

You sigh, loudly. Despite being dubbed the second-best Bakugou Tamer™️ in the class, you honestly have no idea how and why it even works on him. You've had your fair share of obnoxious younger relatives whom your aunts and uncles handed over to you during family reunions, so you did to him what you did to them. The first time was a gamble, but the moment Bakugou gave you a half-assed apology for being stupidly aggressive as fuck, that was when your class proudly designated you as his secret caretaker. Much to your resolve.

You knock on his door and call out to him, to which he screams back at you. "Just open the door, asshole."

It takes him a minute until he welcomes you in, and you stand in front of him as he sits on the edge of his bed. There was a short moment of silence before he finally speaks up, "I couldn't take a fucking shower because of this stupid band on my wrist." He lifts his left hand up to show you, and there it is. The villain of the night, the mastermind of all evil. The disheveled entry wristband from the hero convention he and Kirishima went to earlier today is clinging onto his wrist tight, despite being tinkered upon for minutes, you suppose.

"Why didn't you just-"

"Cut it off? No shit. Yeah, it's wrapped too tight and I'm sc- I don't want to cut my skin open, dumbass."

"You were going to say you were scared."

"No, I wasn't! Why are you here anyway?" He straightens up and shoves his palms threateningly towards your face, a signature move he pulls whenever he feels embarrassed. How cute.

"They sent me because we heard you scream. Let me help. Where are your scissors?" You waste no time questioning the agitated blonde and rummage through the stationery containers on his study desk for a pair of scissors but there was no avail. Somewhere in between your rather frantic search you heard him mumble under his breath, causing you to turn and look at him. "What was that?"

"I don't have scissors... I blew the last one to bits because it didn't cut properly." He explains, eyes looking at anywhere but you. You brought your fist over to your mouth to suppress a laugh. Does the mighty Lord Explosion Murder get triggered by blunt scissors? Cute.

You offer your hand out to him and he raises his eyebrows at you, so you bring it back to yourself and cross your arms over your chest. "I'm not helping you with that attitude."

"I didn't ask for it."

"But you need it, don't you?"

He pauses, eyes squinted and pissed and feisty directed towards your gorgeous shit-eating grin. He hates this. Hates you, and how you don't even need to do anything to have him on your feet simping for you. But you don't need to know that. Especially because he hates how he just admitted that in his head.

But he does need this wristband off his wrist, and he does want to look less like a fool.

"I need your help."

"Say it nicely~"

"Fuck- please."

The shit-eating grin on your face just got wider and he swears he felt the pits of his stomach fill with butterflies boiling hate. But he offers you his hand anyway, and you take it, and when you tell him you're gonna rip the wristband off his wrist it doesn't register in his head. Only when he's feeling your plump lips press against the skin on his forearm does he realize what had happened and just how painstakingly quick that was.

You lift your face and crumple the wristband in your hand while gently massaging his wrist with another. "See, that wasn't so bad, right?" You say to him, discarding the crumpled paper. He stares at you for a while, and you do too. You weren't sure if it's the poor lighting in his room or if you're seeing things, but there's a minute hint of red tinting the tips of his ears.

The silence and the staring is becoming awfully awkward and creepy, so you point to the door and motion walking to let him know that you're leaving. And as soon as you turn around, he speaks in the softest, most endearing way he's ever spoken.

"Your lips are really warm."

[gallickingun]

legacy || dragon prince!kirishima

SUMMARY: After an arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons, Kirishima Eijirou, you decide you do not want to live your life in a loveless relationship, so you attempt to get to know him. After some time, you realize that he was keeping something very important from you. How are you supposed to help him if he won’t come clean?

PAIRING: Dragon Prince!Kirishima x Princess!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, breeding kink (so much breeding), etc. WORD COUNT: 13.5k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for THESE prompts that I just couldn’t chill out with. I didn’t want this to get confused with @makoodles​ Dragon Dick Kiri! This Kirishima has normal anatomy 👀 but go give her’s a read as well, it’s so frickin’ good. 

༶•┈⛧ ┈♛ ♛ ┈⛧┈•༶

An arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons wasn’t how you saw the start of the rest of your life going.

You expected to have more time before you would be called to responsibility, to the throne, to your people. You wanted to live your life, to frolic through the meadows and taste the sweet mead drinks the cooks are always going on about. You wanted to be free.

You did not want to find yourself forced into a white dress, a bunch of flowers in your hand, as you recite the sacred betrothal vows to a man you’ve never met before.

His name is Kirishima Eijirou.

At least he’s handsome.

And beyond his good looks, Kirishima has a charming air about him as well. He is kind to all the servants and never asks for their help unless it’s entirely required. He even goes so far as to request separate bedrooms for the two of you, knowing exactly what might be expected of you if you were to sleep together.

When you approached him about it, he bowed his head, “I know that you did not enter this matrimony by choice, milady. I would hate to force you into anything you did not ask for.”

You would be lying if you denied that your heart skipped a beat.

Kirishima makes himself useful around the castle, tending to the gardens with the other landscapers, using his enhanced strength and hard, scaly skin to chop down trees and uproot stumps. He even brings the ladies in the kitchen spices from other parts of the kingdom and animals that the other hunters had not been able to slay.

His fierce instincts and amazing strength have made him quite the match for the kingdom; almost as if he were exactly what you needed. The citizens have never been more excited for a new king to rise, practically salivating as Kirishima passes through the town on his daily walks. You watch on from your tower window, leaning over the edge of the cobblestone to squint as you make out his bulky frame mounting a horse and exiting the castle gates.

Many a night passes and you feel uneasy at the distance between you. He is your husband, and yet you are sure that you have not had a conversation lasting more than a few syllables with him. You are sure that even the commoners know him better than you do.

Everyone in the kingdom adores Kirishima, although they could care less for the mouthy knight he’s brought along with him. A blonde, stout man you’ve come to know as Bakugou Katsuki. He is Kirishima’s protector and right-hand, following him around like a shadow, throwing his opinions and criticisms out with little care to the sensitive ears they may fall upon.

“Bakugou?” you ask one afternoon, crossing your arms as you stand beside him, Kirishima helping to dig trenches using his scaled, hardened hands. You tilt your head to consider the blonde, your irises finding a crimson color, harsh and unbending, much unlike your betrothed’s warm gaze, “Does Kirishima care for me?”

His throat bobs and a strangled sound comes from it, “Excuse me?”

“Kirishima keeps his distance from me,” you muse, licking your lips as you turn from him to focus on the man you find yourself fascinated with even more as each day passes. “I just want to know if he is uncomfortable around me.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You unceremoniously smack his arm, “Stop being belligerent and answer me!”

“Bloody hell,” Bakugou takes a step away from you, “yes, Kirishima is uncomfortable around you, but not for the reason you think, wench.”

Your narrowed eyes spur him to speak again, “He thinks fondly of you, if that’s what you wish to know. Eijirou just has a strange way of showing it. Now, can we please stop talking about this emotional shit?”

There is no answer from your lips, only the absence of your presence at his side. Bakugou huffs out a relieved sigh and watches as you hitch your skirt up and run towards his friend and ruler. He shakes his head when you stumble into Kirishima’s arms, rolling his eyes as he begins his afternoon patrol of the grounds.

“Whoa,” the prince’s arms are sturdy as he catches you before you can face plant into the trench he’s dug, “are you okay?”

Your body relishes in the warmth he provides, fingers clinging onto his shoulders, feeling the ridges of the hard, corded muscle beneath you, “Y-Yes, I am fine! I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yes, Princess?” Kirishima, ever the gentleman, holds you steady, guiding you back to some sense of normalcy. He is fighting a smile at your bedraggled appearance, the corners of his lips twitching as he looks down his nose at you, the black metal guard around his face making his features even more sharp.

The core of you churns with molten lava at the sight of his handsome features, the tendrils of smoke from the sloshing heat curling up your throat until it forces your mouth open, “W-Would you like to go for a picnic?”

Kirishima has never looked more surprised and amused. His hand absentmindedly rubs over your elbow and bicep, sending small jolts of electricity through to your bones until you can feel them rattling around in the cage of your body. He stutters when he speaks, “A-A picnic? As in, eating together? A-Alone?”

“Yes,” you flush, your cheeks burning brightly at the confession, “I think we’ve earned a little time away, don’t you think?”

His face goes the same color as his hair, his pink tongue passing over his lower lip as he considers you, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot as he chooses his words wisely, “Princess, you don’t have to humor me. I know my place.”

“Your place is with me,” you bolster your spine so you can look him in the eyes, barely distracted by the small scales that cover his temples and jawline. “And I want to know my husband. Is that a crime? Shall you have me thrown in the dungeon?”

The black pupils in the center of his orbs dilate, his shoulders shifting as he considers your words and your tone. Kirishima shakes his head after he’s processed what you’re saying, taking a step closer so your chest almost brushes his when you take heaving breaths, “No, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. How does veal and fruit sound?”

“Like heaven.”

It is not much later in the afternoon when Kirishima stops by the stables to collect you, a woven wicker basket cradled in one of his hands, full to the brim with a plethora of things hidden under the lid. He packs the basket and a few blankets onto the backside of the horse that he brought with him when he merged his belongings with yours. He pats the horse’s backside, “All right, Red. Be nice. This is the princess you’re carrying.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as you step forward. Your free hand brushes over Red’s snout and down her mane, “And that’s the prince, you know. Precious cargo.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my thick skin,” he shrugs, reaching out a hand for you to take, “plus Red knows I’m the one with the sugar cubes, so she’ll be sweet on me.”

Your palm rests in his as you stride towards him, the proximity of your bodies now intoxicating as his natural heat radiates between the two of you. The base of your throat bobs as emotion gathers in your esophagus, cutting off your breathing. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed when you try to look at him directly, unable to focus when he’s so close to you.

Kirishima is no small man, your eye-level meeting his collarbones. His hands dwarf yours easily, his stout body thick with muscle and sinew, dense bones holding him together. You suppose it’s thanks to his animalistic ancestry.

Each kingdom descended from some form of ancient animal, and Kirishima’s was the dragons. And so, he inherited the qualities of that very beast, starting with his intense body heat and the scales that litter his skin in small patches. They are black in color at a first glance, but when he shifts beneath the sunbeams, you notice they have a red iridescence to them. You are thankful to find that he has no tail or snout, saving those features for a much more human-looking set.

Kirishima rests his palms on your hips, almost able to wrap his digits completely around the circumference of your waist as he hoists you onto his horse. His quaking digits roam down the thick of your thigh, thumbs brushing up against the skin to treasure it. You have to stop yourself from keening into his touch, seeming desperate, by white knuckling your hands around the saddle.

He clambers up after you, slinging one leg before propping himself up to rest behind you. Leaning forward, he grabs the reigns, his chest pressing firmly into your back. You force yourself to regulate your breathing, the scent and feel of him making your head dizzy. Kirishima scoots forward and the curve of his crotch is pressing into your spine as he spurs Red forward with a gentle slap of the reigns.

You squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his forearms, the tips of your fingers dragging over the dark scales he sports at the junctures of his arms. His muscles twitch under your touch and your breath hitches. The bottom of his chin is hovering just above your shoulder, his cheek threatening your personal space while his chest falls flush with your back, “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you manage an awkward laugh, blinking to clear your vision. “Sorry, I just wasn’t ready.”

Kirishima holds the reigns in one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist, effectively silencing you as your heart beats heavy in your chest, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It is easy to melt back into him, a shuddering breath making your shoulders shake. You rest your hands over the top of his thick arm, thumbs finding his veins and bones to trace while you wait for your end destination to come in sight. You avoid paying too close attention to the ebony scales that glimmer in the afternoon sun, shifting from black to red when you look acutely.

The sun is setting when he finally stops Red at the edge of a lake, golden glow shining from the surface of the water and making it difficult to see. Kirishima helps you down before grabbing the picnic basket and tying Red up around the trunk of a tree. In the meantime, you work at setting out the blanket on the ground, tugging out the corners so it’s fully splayed open.

Conversation flows easy for the two of you as you lay out on the ground, face turned toward the sun as is sinks lower in the afternoon sky. You close your eyes and drink in the sunbeams, your hands tucked behind your head. Kirishima is waving his hands around, holding grapes between one set of fingers and a slice of bread in the other.

You laugh, a full-bellied giggle that you have not felt in what seems like years. When the laughter settles, you turn your head to see Kirishima already looking down at you, a soft but sad expression tugging on his features. You tilt your head, blinking a few times before asking him, “What is on your mind?”

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts unabashedly.

The inside of your mouth turns to ash, as if you’ve licked the inside of the oven and can’t get the taste off of your tongue. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and reach a hand up to rub at your face as nerves start to eat away at your belly.

“Can a princess not have a picnic with her husband?” Your voice has risen an octave and it’s obvious he notices because he leans in further, as if silently asking you to further explain. You huff, rolling your eyes, “I just want to get to know you, Kirishima. If we’re to be wed for the rest of our lives, don’t you think we should learn a little about one another?!”

Kirishima sits up straighter, his eyes unable to find a part of you to focus on as his gaze wanders. You turn on your side, reaching out to press your palm to his thigh, but he halts you with his warm touch and saddened words, “I assumed you would have nothing to do with me. Arranged marriages aren’t usually filled with companionship.”

You lean forward, your mouth against his knuckles as you exhale, “I think we’d like each other if we had the chance, arranged marriage or not.”

A silence hangs in the air, Kirishima’s hand heavy beneath yours. You feel the muscles in his leg twitch as your thumb brushes down over his shin. It’s like you are waiting sparks to ignite in midair and take the both of you down, the imminent danger of his response sending a burning chill down your spine. You fear you may have misjudged him, or perhaps his companion misspoke with the intent to turn the two of you against one another.

“Kirishima,” you try again, sitting up on your knees so you can look him in the eyes much easier, “listen, I-”

His thumb against your lower lip gives you pause, your eyes crossing as you try to look down at the offending digit. Kirishima looks up at you, a glimmer in his vermilion irises, “I want you to call me Eijirou.”

Your heart stops beating within your chest at the admission of his given name. You had heard Bakugou say it, and of course when you learned who you would be marrying, you were informed of the nomenclature. However, you never assumed that you would be gifted the privilege to use it so soon.

“Eijirou,” you test it out on your tongue, rolling the name around like honey, “I like that.”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you see the faintest brush of dimples. You lean your body forward to press a kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his mouth, “Nice to meet you, Eijirou. I’m your wife.”

He chuckles, reaching out to shake your hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. How do you do?”

“I’d be doing much better with some berries between my teeth,” you lean back, brushing your thumb over the back of his palm, “but I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve got you.”

The smile on Kirishima’s face puts the sunshine to shame.

༶•┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

It had been months since that picnic by the lake, and you and Kirishima had grown rather close. He chases your lips behind closed doors and your hands are insatiable as they roam his body beneath his tunic. You know the taste of his skin by heart, and he knows the innermost parts of you better than you do.

So him pulling away now has you perplexed.

You pace back and forth in front of his private chambers, the place where he is allowed to go when he needs to contemplate war plans and farming plots and taxation of the citizens. However, he has been holed up behind the thick wooden door for six days straight, and you know that something is wrong.

Bakugou is posted up in front of the door, a mess of limbs as he whittles away at a slab of wood, working on turning it into something much more intricate. His head raises so he can roll his eyes at your unease, “Relax, Princess. He’ll be out of there in another week or two.”

“What does that even mean?!” you snap, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You feel yourself breaking from the inside out – you thought you had made so much progress, that maybe you and Kirishima were really moving forward, learning how to co-habitate and rule together. Your voice is crazed and you throw your palms face-up towards the knight, “Weeks? This is absurd!”

You narrow your eyes at the door like it has wronged you, keeping you from your lover, and you are barreling towards it before Bakugou can stop you.  

“Eijirou!”

Bursting through the door, you’re surprised to find that he is not sitting at his desk, pouring over world maps and charts. Rather, he’s not anywhere to be seen at all. You shut and lock the door behind you just as Bakugou has gotten to his feet, narrowing your eyes at him as it clicks shut.

You hear a whimpering sound off in the distance, and you follow it.

There is a secluded area you know is hidden behind the bookshelf – a secret room built by your father so he can escape even the already secretive confines of his study. You pull the familiar lever at the base of the bookcase and the entire structure begins to shudder as the door is opened. A familiar head of red hair is lowered, his chin to his chest as sobs rack his body, broad shoulders shaking as he sniffles.

“Eiji?” your voice is quiet, afraid to disrupt the moment. He is bare at the torso, his hands cradled in front of him, but you can only make out the muscled expanse of his back, “Eijirou, why are you-”

“I-I didn’t want you in here,” he mumbles through labored breaths. When he turns his head you can make out the glistening tears running down his face, “Y-You smell so strongly and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Excuse you?” Your voice is more of a bark than a question, stepping further into the small space so you’re stood beside him, “I smell? You could have just told me, for Christ’s sakes, Eiji-holy shit.”

Your eyes are drawn to the center of his hips, where he’s currently cradling his cock between his hands. The head of it is engorged and blushed, leaking pearlescent fluid that leaks down the shaft, coating one of the more prominent veins on the underside. Your throat bobs at the sight of him, taking in his girth with your own two eyes, trying to rationalize why you’d never seen his lower body without clothing until just now.

“I-I’m sorry, listen, it’s just…” Kirishima is in tears, his voice strained as he stands to his feet, “I-I’m in a fucking rut and it’s horrible and you shouldn’t have to witness it, let alone be a part of it. I wanted to wait it out in here so I could stay away from you.”

You step closer to him, your hands hovering in midair as you’re not sure which part of him to grab for first. Your entire anatomy is on fire at the visual of his thick cock leaking pre and throbbing with the need to spill his seed. The base of him leads way to a set of weighty balls, and you can only imagine the sheer amount of come that he has stored up in them.

“Stay away from me? Eiji,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoils, another sniffle as he turns his head, but you persist regardless, “Am I not your wife? Is this not my job?”

He stands to his feet, his trousers taut against his thighs as he tries to pull them back up his legs, “Exactly! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It’s not a job, Princess, nothing in this realm should ever feel like a job. It should be fun, and I can promise you this won’t be fun for you.”

“Rut?” you redirect the conversation, coming to stand in front of him with your hand on his wrist to keep him from pulling his pants back over his cock. “Wh-Tell me what that means, exactly?”

Kirishima inhales deeply, his chest expanding, and then reaches down to take his dick in his hand, stroking it once to show you the length of it, “It’s whatever part of me is intertwined with dragon, I have these annual cycles where I’m drawn to my-fuck, this is so strange to say out loud-my mate.”

You want to reach down to hold his throbbing length in your hands but the look in his eyes says that he isn’t done. Kirishima gulps as he looks across at you, glittering ruby eyes filled to the brim with emotion, “It’s a mating cycle, outside of that I’m not really sure. I go into a rut for a couple of weeks each year, ever since I went through the change, and my body has this intense desire to impregnate a mate.”

The talk coming from him is oddly arousing, and you find yourself growing slick between your thighs. You hover closer to him now, the head of his cock brushing up against your belly as your hands start to roam over his bare chest, “Please, show me what you need, whatever it is, and I’ll help you. You’re in pain, Eijirou.”

He winces on cue, turning his head before you can see the extent of his discomfort. Kirishima shakes his head, “Listen, I-I’ve been doing this alone for years, I can handle it.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to!” You try and reason with him, reaching up to take his cheeks in your hands, redirecting his attention, “I’m your wife, Eijirou.”

A tear wells up in either of his eyes, making his irises look like they are glittering in the candlelight of the secret room, “Yes, but you’re not my mate.”

Those few words topple you over like a horse has just run over your chest. The breath has been knocked out of you, stolen from your lungs, and you take a step back to steady yourself before you fall. Kirishima’s eyesight falters as he realizes what he’s just said, but he makes no move to correct himself. Rather, he stands taller, straightening his spine like he’s ready to go to war, to lead thousands of men into a battle he’s not sure he can win.

You have a choice to make now – you can stand here and fight, or you can flee through the secret passage and hide in your own chambers until his rut is over.

“Eijirou,” you grit your teeth, tears flowing down your cheeks, and look him in the eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

Fight it is, then.

Kirishima looks stunned, so you take advantage of his stillness to rush at him, cupping his face with your hands and bruising his lips in a kiss. His hips roll forward and his cock is sheathed between your thighs, so you squeeze yourself tight around him, grabbing at his wrists before he can pull himself away. The whimper he lets loose from his mouth is wanton, his body practically shivering with the need to swallow you whole.

You kiss him until he’s shaking, his hands white-knuckled as he bars himself from grabbing every inch of your body like his primal nature pushes him to. When you pull away from him, you look up into his eyes and see hesitation keeping his pupils dilated to where you can still make out his crimson irises.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I-I can’t do that to you, not now, not when I think-”

He stops himself before he finishes his sentence, but in your heart, you know what he’s going to say. You smile, praying that he receives some warmth and comfort from the gesture, and brush your thumbs against his wrists where you hold his hands by his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if he’s resigned himself to this truth, that you will not leave unless he forces you, and he does not believe that it’s his place to coerce you into doing anything you haven’t already decided for yourself. Kirishima stands tall and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if taking in the moment. You hear him count a few numbers in an ancient dialect before he peels back his lids and his darkened eyes meet yours, lust swirling around like thunderclouds and his irises have deepened to a maroon shade.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one final time, hands still by his sides, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down your spine.

You nod, trying not to seem too eager by keeping your feet flat to the ground, “Yes, Eijirou, please. I want you to do whatever you need to, please use me.”

The sound of your voice so willing and wanton makes Kirishima’s blood run hot in his veins, thudding against his ears until he can hardly hear anything else. He steps forward, his chest flush with yours, and his shaking hands finally make contact with your body.

He is insatiable when he finally grabs a hold of you, palming at you like an animal. Kirishima captures your mouth in a searing kiss, moaning as soon as your lips part in a gasp. He backs you into the desk he was sitting against when you first came in, your ass knocking against the wood in his haste. A low growl bubbles up in his chest until he nips at your lower lip and you whimper, then the sound fades to a moan.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes already blitzed out as he looks down at you, “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, your fingers in his hair to sift through the dark red strands. You find yourself nodding your head eagerly, squirming up onto the top of the desk to give him a better angle. Kirishima smiles wide enough that you can see his sharper canines, gums bared as he grins. He lowers himself to his knees, and something about seeing him in such a vulnerable position makes your head spin.

Kirishima pushes the hem of your skirt up and over your thighs, bunching up the material in one hand as the other parades over your soft undergarments. He visibly shivers when the pad of his middle finger brushes over the wet patch on the fabric, his tongue parting his lips as he dampens them.

He mutters a string of ancient curse words in a dialect you cannot comprehend, but it still arouses you, nonetheless. You help him with your dress, tucking it behind your back, before reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to your core.

You give him a soft, “Eiji, please,” before you hear the tearing of fabric, and your cunt is bared to the cold air.

A gasp parts your lips, but you throw your head back when his tongue first makes contact with your slick folds. You whine into the air, the sound dying out as it travels, and your grip in his hair tightens to a pressure that should be painful, but his thick skin gives him a better barrier for pain.

Kirishima hums against your clit, running the coarse pad of his tongue over the sensitive bud before diving back into your sopping core. He moans as your taste coats his tongue, bringing one of his hands up to your belly so he can brush his thumb along your clit for further stimulation, the coarse feeling of his scaled elbow grating over your thigh giving you goosebumps. His free set of fingers dig into every part of your leg that he can find, roaming from your calves to your thighs to your ass, kneading the plush skin beneath his hardened fingertips.

You clench around his tongue, the thick muscle stimulating even the deepest parts of you. You mewl out his name, uncaring as to how loud you’re being, which only seems to spur him on, the pace of his tongue quickening as his thumb grinds mercilessly against your clit. You cant your hips upward against his mouth, begging for even more friction, and he chuckles, the sound sending reverberating pleasure through your core.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Kirishima’s voice is gentle as he turns his attention to your thighs, kissing the innermost parts as he slips a thick finger between your folds, “I want you to come undone for me, yeah? Think you can do that?”

A nod brings your vision back down to him, to look into his eyes as you rock against his knuckles. He bares his teeth to your thigh before sucking your supple skin between his lips. The combination of pleasure from your cunt mixed with the pain from his biting and sucking of your thigh brings you closer to your high, your vision blurred by ecstasy. You moan, tightening every muscle in your body in hopes that it will push you over the edge, but Kirishima’s hand runs over your taut skin in a soothing motion, rubbing the pads of his fingers deep into your muscles as if to try and calm you down.

“Relax,” he kisses over the dark red mark now splotched against your thigh, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You believe him, between his earnest expression and the honest hoarseness behind his words. You swallow thickly, forcing the growing lump in your throat back down into your chest. The contours of your body are less noticeable once you’ve eased your muscles, and Kirishima takes it as a sign for him to quicken the pace of his fingers in your pussy, leaning forward to suck at your clit with his teeth and tongue.

He can feel your walls tightening as he stretches you out with another finger, the spongy texture of your insides giving away the closeness to your end. Smirking around your skin, Kirishima hums, sending you crashing carelessly towards your orgasm.

The sound of his name falling obscenely from your lips makes his cock harden and twitch between his legs. He grunts as he ruts forward against your shin, the head of his dick smearing pre-come against your smooth skin. You suck in a breath at the feeling, falling forward so your lips are in his hair, whispering murmurs of praise and begging as you feel your core writhe with pleasure.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, hearing your whines from above, “c’mon, Princess, come for me.”

You do as your told, the glutinous walls within you coated with your arousal, milky fluid seeping from your body until it has coated his palm. Kirishima reaches up with his clean hand to thread it through your hair, pulling you gently so he can stand to his feet. You watch as he pumps his cock with the palm that is slick with your silvery strands of spend, the head of him engorged and angry red in color. Your mouth salivates at the thought of him splitting you wide open with the thick girth of him, and for a moment you’re unsure if you’ll be able to take him as easily as you originally believed.

Kirishima wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you to him so he can hoist you off of the desk and walk you towards the small bed staggered in the corner of the room. He lowers you down easily, the rippling muscles of his biceps drawing your eye as he strains himself to keep you safe. You lean up and kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his growling sounds into the recesses of your throat so they may thrum up and down your spine, sending a second shock-wave towards your core.

You notice that Kirishima is eyeing a very specific point on your throat as he leans back onto his thick thighs, taking in your already weakened body. You reach up and palm at his chest, redirecting his attention to your eyes, “Eijirou, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss up from your navel to your chest, “you’re just beautiful.”

His words make your body blush from head to toe, your feet curling up as he shuffles himself out of his pants. You take the moment to hoist your dress over your head, both of your clothes left in a pile on the floor as you reconnect your bodies with a kiss.

Something about this time makes his skin hotter to the touch, you notice, and his muscles are practically ripping at the seams, threatening to bust out if he tries any harder to keep himself restrained. You lick at the fullness of his lower lip, “Eijirou, I need you. Please.”

The pleading nature of your voice only feeds his feral nature, the instinctive side of him wanting to rip you to shreds until you’re screaming his name, crying fat tears as he presses into you and fills you to the brim with his spend. Kirishima has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the primal need that stirs him, instead focusing on the way his heart beats faster when you’re around, and how the glimmer in your eyes never ceases to amaze him.

Kirishima angles his hips backward so he can push the tip of his cock between your sopping heat, his restraint feathering out the deeper he slides into you. A gentle gasp from your lips stops him, his hips stilled as he peels his eyes open to look down at you, “A-Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck, Eijirou, I want you,” you scramble to grab at whatever part of him you can find, fingernails digging roughly into his biceps, “I need you in me, I need you to take me. I’m yours.”

That is the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. Kirishima sheathes his cock within your heat with one smooth stroke, the stretch of your tight pussy making the shaft of his dick throb noticeably. You reel forward, your forehead smacking into his chest at the sudden obtrusion from within you. Your body takes over then, trying your hardest to kiss and lick and touch any patch of skin that is close enough.

The prince wraps an arm around your back, holding you sturdily with a palm splayed out between your shoulders, easily keeping you in place as he starts to jut his hips forward, “So fuckin’ tight, angel, such a good little girl, takin’ my cock like this. Fuck I want to-”

He stops himself by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, whining as his thick cock pounds repeatedly into your pussy. You grab at his hair to pull him away from you, desperate to look him in the eyes, “Eiji, tell me.”

There are tears settled in the corners of his irises with the desperate need for more that his body cries out for. Kirishima shakes his head and kisses you on the mouth, nails biting into your back as his cock makes your insides keen. He loses himself in the stretch of you, the tightness of your core making his whole body boil, his skin teeming with sweat as he rucks into you.

“Damnit,” he whimpers as you clench around him, drawing his dick back into your core as he tries to snap his hips backward, “I want to breed you, so fuckin’ bad, Princess.”

It is like he expects you to retreat once he’s said it, as if the thought of it might scare you off. On the contrary, all it does is spur you forward. You kiss him like your life depends on it, rolling your hips up to meet his until he is stroking the hidden part of you near your spine, the head of his cock inflamed and beading with pre-come even as he’s buried to the hilt within you.

The weight of his balls is more intense now, throbbing with his seed, slapping into your ass as he ruts forward, taking your body and molding it with his intentions. You hiss as the veins forking along the underside of his cock drag salaciously against your folds, but he merely takes advantage of the parting of your lips to delve his tongue into your mouth. He maps out each of your molars and then down to the back of your throat, moans spoken into the confines of your jaws so that the world may never hear them, only you.

You know that you are going to have to be the one to tell him that this is okay, that you want him to destroy your body with his touch. Every hair stands on end, even with him holding back, and you can only imagine how worked your bones will feel once he’s actually given you his all. Kirishima is feverish around you, hot and sweating as he works the both of you towards the point of coming undone. You relinquish yourself from his kiss, leaning your head back so you can look him in the eyes.

“Breed me, Eijirou,” your voice is hoarse when you speak, near cracking as you beg him, desperate tears glittering in the corners of your eyes, “I want you to fill me up with your come, please. Stuff me full of it.”

Kirishima’s palm rests at your abdomen, and you notice it for the first time. You wonder what is going through his mind; if he is thinking about the way his cock fills your stomach, or if he is plagued by the idea of you full with his child, pregnant and swollen at the navel. He rubs the heel of it over the expanse of your belly, finding every available patch of skin to caress with his touch, the hardened tips of his fingers raking thin red lines into your skin.

A part of you wants them to never go away, marking you as his, letting all the others know who you belong to.

“I want your baby, Eiji. Won’t you give me one?” Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure if this is how he wants this night to go. You lick your lips and look up at him bashfully, tiny tear tracks spilled over your cheeks in rivulets, “I want you to breed me full, Eijirou. I want you to fill up my cunt with your seed until I’m dripping, please, won’t you?”

Your begging mixed with his feral desire brings his teeth down to your neck, bared but not piercing, not yet. He whimpers as he slips his mouth closed, nosing over the area, licking at it like an animal, “You’d be so pretty when you’re full of me, absolutely beautiful.”

You turn your head so you can kiss him on the temple, feeling his hesitation beneath the pads of your fingers, “I’m your wife, Eiji, but I want to be your mate, too.”

A strangled sound is mangled in his throat, but he pulls away from you to look you in the eye nonetheless, “Wh-What are…Princess, listen, I don’t want you to think-”

“I love you.”

His irises engulf his pupils as his eyes widen, stuttering breaths parting his lips. His gaze is frantic, unable to find one part of your face to hone in on, the three words that you’ve uttered into the air giving him serious pause. His heart starts pumping furiously in his chest, threatening to beat right out of the cage of his ribs if he isn’t careful to calm it.

You are frightened that you’ve been too honest, that you’ve bared your soul too far and there is no coming back. Fear forces your words down into your chest, unable to cry out an apology at going too far too soon. Your hands on his arms pull away, digging into the sheets so you have something to take out your inner turmoil on.

“Y-You want…” Kirishima shakes his head, swallowing thickly so his throat bobs, “You want me?”

The incredulous snort that makes your nostrils flare cannot be contained. You look down to where he is balls deep in your cunt, and then back up to hold his gaze, “Eijirou, is that really even a question?”

He’s stuttering out some sort of response, but you can’t be bothered to listen, so you drag him forward by the nape of his neck, cementing your mouth to his. You wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the firm muscle of his ass to pull him back to you, to encourage his movements. Kirishima is tentative this time, unsure of himself but his animalistic nature still brings him back to pump his cock within your heat.

“I love you,” you murmur into his lips, twirling your fingers through his hair, “if you love me too, then I want whatever you have to offer, whatever you need to give me so I can finally be yours.”

With every word you speak, the animal gnawing at the back of Kirishima’s consciousness grows less tame. It is begging, with claws at his throat, to take you for all you’re worth, until you’re bone dry and pleading for him to relinquish you. He bares his teeth and the instinct curling around his spine, making him seem stronger, wider, somehow gives way to the true nature of this rut he’s told you about.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, and you feel a rush of heat flood your core.

Kirishima groans, gnashing his teeth as he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed to one another. You can sense he’s still holding back, still a touch embarrassed, so you knead your fingers into the tops of his shoulders, begging with the touch of his muscles for him to claim you once and for all.

“Kiri,” your voice is strong even though you’re whispering, “what do you want to do to me? Don’t you want me?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Kirishima kisses you soundly on the mouth, as if he must reassure you, as if you were doubting him. “I want you, every day for the rest of my life. B-But I can’t…a mate is for life, angel.”

The way he says it suggests that you don’t already know, or that it may come as a surprise to you. You smile, wrapping your arms around his back so you can lean up, arching your spine so your torsos are flush with one another. You’ve never felt the desire to be so close to someone, but it is as if this is not even close enough. You wish there were a better way to prove to him that he is the end of the line for you, that you could never want anyone else.

“I love you,” you repeat, palming the corded muscle of his back as if it might pump the confession into him by the osmosis of your sweat, “You are the first thing I want to see in the morning when I wake, and the last thing I gaze at in the night before I fall asleep. You are the end to all my beginnings, Eijirou.”

Kirishima groans at your confession, his needy body unable to create the same kind of eloquent response as he holds his hips still, unwilling to ruin your beautiful moment. His nose brushes along the bridge of yours, a question lodged in his throat and unwilling to be bared. You nudge the bow of your lips against his cheek, murmuring kind praises into his ear, “Tell me what you want, what you need, Eijirou. I want to give it to you, whatever it is.”

“C-Can I mark you?” his voice is bedraggled, just on the cusp of breaking.

“Please,” you ask of him, craning your head so your neck is available. “I want to be yours, and I want everyone else to know.”

It seems that is all the encouragement he needs, baring his fanged teeth to the thin skin of your neck, tongue tracing over your jugular as he prepares the area for his biting kiss. He nudges his nose against your earlobe, that same ancient tongue from earlier sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

You are not prepared for the searing pain that rips through your body when he finally tears into you. A cry parts your lips and your cunt squeezes him so tightly that he almost slips from within you. Your hand rips through his hair, the other occupied with his shoulder, nails bludgeoning his hardened skin until you draw blood. You want to throw your head back but you know that will only make it all worse, his teeth will shred your skin until you are but a flayed piece of meat lying beneath him.

“Kiri,” you whine, turning your head to nestle you lips into the edge of his hair that curls around his ear, kissing at whatever surface you can find.

He hums in response, unable to give you words as he sucks and pulls at the skin. You feel your mind cloud the longer he has dug into you, the tendrils of need writhing around your cerebrum until you can no longer think clearly. The one thing on your mind is the very thing between his legs, and you whisper words of want into his ear, praying that he can hear you through his animalistic marking.

The palm of his hand digs further into your belly, until he can feel the tip of his cock underneath his fingers. Kirishima growls around your neck, the timbre of his voice shaking your very bones. You swallow, dipping your fingers further into the skin of his shoulders, “Kirishima, move.”

His hips are listening even if he does not give an indication that he’s heard you. He uses his hands to prop up your legs, the tips of his digits bruising your skin with their intensity, until your knees are almost parallel with the mattress. The only reason they aren’t digging into your chest is because he’s still slotted there, gnashing away at the sensitive skin of your neck. His body is lumbering and thick, dense from his neck to his ankles.

Kirishima makes you feel small, in every sense of the word. Even as a princess, you did not feel dainty, you’ve never been a precious flower that someone else has to protect. You’ve always stumbled a little, faltered when you should be standing upright, and your parents have had to reprimand you for your unladylike tendencies more than once.

But here, lying underneath his hulking form, your fingers seem tinier, more elegant, and even as your knees dig into his ribs, he does not falter, does not wince. You cannot put him in pain, between his hard exterior and his intense primal nature, and it makes you feel like a porcelain doll.

And once his cock plunges back within your tight, wet heat, you are reminded of how massive he truly is.

The tip of his cock butterflies you wide open, shattering your limited stretch and prying you open with each quivering inch of his thick girth. He overwhelms you, so much so that your head topples backward to dig further into the pillow, as if running away from him might soothe the ache between your legs. Even that is a mistake, because once you’ve shifted, his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your collarbones, angry red marks left in their wake.

He leans back to examine his hard work, eyes roaming the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the shape of his teeth is like a shadow. A guttural growl emanates from his throat, the air sparking with electricity at the sound of it. You swallow the thick, pent-up arousal in your throat and breathe heavily, somewhat thankful to be rid of his mouth even though a part of you would frenetically like to bring it back. Your throat is throbbing, and you think you could count the number of teeth he was able to sink into you based on the pain of it alone.

“Princess,” he gasps as he takes in the pulsating mark now claiming you as his, “I-I’m sorry, d-did I-”

You shake your head and pull at him in every way possible, your body crying out for more of him in every sense of the word. Kirishima moans as you kiss him again, pushing your tongue between his teeth to try and taste the familiar warmth of his mouth. You moan, your body finding his easily, comfortable and wanting as you careen forward, the throbbing circular mark on your shoulder long forgotten. You have to come up for air much sooner than you like, still reeling from his marking of your body.

Kirishima’s palm is digging into your stomach again, nails biting into your smooth skin as his cock pulses, and he squints harshly as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, completely at his mercy, makes his balls throb and he snaps his hips up into you again out of pure primal need alone. Your body jostles, breasts bouncing and thighs rippling, as his cock bottoms out into your cunt, the tip of him bursting with arousal and finding your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he drops his head to your chest, curling himself upward so your hips are flush, his hip bones bruising your thighs as he unceremoniously crumbles into you. Your hands are on him in an instant, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make him so vulnerable.

You barely have time to say his name before he’s whining, sucking your nipple between the bite of his teeth out of the sole desire to muffle his needy pants. Your hand sifts through his hair, head thrown back while you enjoy the ministrations of his tongue around your chest. He mumbles out words that you can’t quite make out, but with the way his cock is throbbing between your walls and the motions of his hand and mouth on your breast, you don’t care much to understand what drivel he’s spinning.

It is only when you feel the inside of your body flood with heat that you understand.

“Eijirou,” you call to him, forcing his head away from your nipple with the gentle tug of your hands, “d-did you just-”

He looks like he could cry, his head hung in shame, “Yes.”

You want to laugh at his pitiful nature, but you can’t, not knowing what the would do to his self-esteem. Instead, you roll your hips up to try and milk him of his release, encouraging him to start rocking your body with his arousing rhythm until he is completely spent within you.

“You said you wanted to breed me, didn’t you?” you question roughly in his ear, your head tilted to where he’s tucked into your collarbone. You kiss his hair, desperate to clutch onto him as you feel his cock softening, peeling away from your tight hole. The feel of come seeping from your cunt makes you squirm, “Eijirou?”

Kirishima tilts his head back and looks you in the eyes, reddened orbs practically devastated. He nods, “Y-Yeah, but I just-”

“Again.”

His throat bobs, eyes widening at your notion. He turns his head to survey your body, littered with bruises and bite marks and it hasn’t been but one round of his cock buried to the hilt within you. His eyes catch on the marking on your shoulder and his cock stirs again, “A-Again?”

“Breed me,” you grit between your teeth, “please, Eijirou. I want you to put a baby in me.”

The biting nature of his fingertips is not lost on you as he pushes your thighs back so your knees are pressed into the mattress. His thick body is wavering above you, eyes unable and unwilling to look away from you as he starts to roll his hips again, slowly so he does not lose the slick that he has gathered from the both of you.

Kirishima swallows one last pensive breath and then it’s like a switch has gone off in his mind, like he’s finally letting the caged beast out to take over, controlling his ministrations. You arch your back so you can feel his hardened nipples against your chest, one of his hands slowly creeping up your torso until he’s found the bruised, marred skin of your neck beneath his fingertips.

“Look so beautiful, love,” Kirishima kisses your forehead, like a proverbial final word before he devours you whole. “I can’t wait to wreck this pretty pussy of yours, mark this body up until no one has any question of who you belong to.”

His uncharacteristically harsh words make your core tighten and your toes curl. You nod, starting to beg for it, the words just barely tipping over the edge of your tongue when he clamps his hand down on the mark of your neck. You feel white-hot pain shoot forth from the area, coating your body in a wave of agony as the pulsing spreads downward.

A broken whimper escapes your gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut when his blunt fingernails dip further into the area, almost like he’s testing to see how far you can take it before he has to relent. He is unkind when he grabs your thigh, pushing it up into your chest as he resumes his slow pace from before. His cock is already beginning to harden again, twitching relentlessly against your glutinous walls, coated with both your arousal and his spend.

“Eijirou,” you want to beg for him but you can barely push out the broken syllables of his name. Tears coat your cheeks but you don’t mind the blurred vision as you gaze up at him. It makes him shine, like the starlight he truly is. Your face breaks into a smile, despite the absolute torment you feel wracking your body. You would endure anything for him, any sort of discomfort or torture, if it meant that you could be this close to him forever.

Kirishima kisses you square on the mouth, “Hush, angel, let me take care of you.”

Your jaw snaps shut, the muscles along the angle of your face shuddering under the pressure of your gritted teeth. Kirishima smiles warmly at you, the last shred of his humanity remaining before he plunges his thumb into the direct center of your marking, digging his fingernail into the bruised skin. You yelp, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pushes deeper into you.

The entirety of your body is so compliant, molded around his frame, practically fluid as you conform to the positions his hands push you into. Kirishima licks a heated stripe along the column of your neck, leaving behind a wet patch that runs cold when he breathes over it. You dig your hands back against his shoulders, raking the tips of your nails along the length of his back and shoulders.

Kirishima gasps audibly at the newfound tightness of your core at his ministrations. He uses his free palm to reach down and grind his thumb against your hooded clit. He nudges his nose along your jawline, breathing coming in heavy pants as he pummels you into the soft plush of the mattress beneath your shoulders. The snap of his hips does not let your backside rest, your body hovering a few inches from the mattress.

It’s as if he cannot get enough of you, even so much so that he won’t allow your frame to fall too far from him. Kirishima must keep you close, he has no other option. The feral animal clawing at what little shred of his resolve that remains whispers in his ear to put a new mark on every visible inch of your skin until you are nothing but a black and blue mess, blubbering and begging beneath him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you come undone for me,” Kirishima murmurs against the shell of your ear, the sultry sound of his voice intermingled with his panting sending a rolling wave of pleasure down your spine until your toes are curling around the sheets. “You like it when I’m this deep inside of you? Not letting your pussy breathe?”

You are nodding even if you don’t fully understand what he’s saying. You would agree to anything, that much you are aware of, and you know that he is keen to that fact as well. Kirishima is still careful with you, somehow aware enough of your limitations to revere you and reel himself in when he feels he might be going too far. The blitzed-out look in your eyes tells him all that he needs to know – you have slipped beneath the surface into that subservient headspace that he’s seen you on the cusp of so many times when he’s had you knuckle deep and coming around his fingers. The very essence of his being tells him to work you for every tear, ever drop of arousal, that you can create, to bludgeon your body until you are begging him to give you a moment to breathe, and then deny you of it.

Kirishima’s hand that has been pressed against your wound now turns to curl around your throat, fingers squeezing your neck until you are gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed as your mouth gapes open wide, bobbing like a fish out of water as you struggle to inhale the slightest amount of oxygen. Your hands flop from his body to the mattress, curling around the sheets until he hears them rip between your nails.

“Look at you, Princess,” he nudges your cheek until you’re looking him in the eyes again, “can’t even speak in full sentences. So whipped for my cock, huh? Tell me what you want me to do to you, if you can talk.”

Drool dribbles from either corner of your mouth and when you shake your head, it creates damp splotches on the pillowcase. Kirishima chuckles, pushing the base of his thumb against the fleshy underside of your chin, forcing your head still so he can glower down at you, crimson eyes shining. The heel of his palm stays jutted against your esophagus, limiting your breathing as he loiters over you.

The words that come out of your mouth are mere wheezing syllables, unable to be understood in their broken form. Tears form in your eyes, clumping on your lashes, at the pure frustration that you can’t tell him exactly what you’d like him to do to you. You whine, the sound breaking in the middle when Kirishima tightens his grip on your throat. You peel your eyes open to see a darkness settled in his irises, their normally crimson color turned almost to black in his lustful state.

It should make you upset, that he’s losing himself, but instead, it just stokes the fire in your belly until the flames are raging up into your throat. The smoke of it all builds behind your eyes and in your mouth until you have to open everything, whining and moaning and writhing like your life depends on it. All the while, Kirishima has set a steady, bruising pace of his cock dragging against your walls, the forked veins on the underside of him giving you additional friction. You want to grab at him, to tug on his body until he melts into you, but your arms are limp, practically your whole body is at the intense ministrations of his hands and hips.

Finally, after your vision begins to blur and your eyelids slip closed at the feel of the remaining oxygen leaving your throat, Kirishima relents his grip and a rush of air floods your lungs. You gasp and choke, the motions making your cunt clamp tightly around his cock, giving Kirishima the push he needs to bottom out within you again, holding himself still until you can catch your breath.

“Such a good girl,” Kirishima is whispering the words hoarsely as his mouth roams your cheek and neck and collarbones. He plants wet, sloppy kisses against your skin like he does not have time to think about the affections.

You whine when you feel his tongue dart from between his lips to lavish attention to the wound on your shoulder, the bite mark from his pointed teeth leading way to bruising and little trails of crimson seeping down from your shoulder to the mattress. He licks at it, half out of wanting to hear you moan when he puts too much pressure on the bruise and half out of guilt for hurting you.

His name comes from your lips and it makes his cock stir against your cervix, “Tell me what you want, angel, I need to know.”

You are aware the duality of that statement. He needs to know because he needs permission, even if his current state won’t allow him to admit it. You find it in you to reach a hand up to sift through his hair, palming at the back of his head to give him some ease with your touch.

“I want you to come in me, Eijirou,” your voice is panting, a mix of exhaustion and longing making you sound fatigued. You feel tears push out of the edges of your eyes at the pure need you have for him to make all of this a reality, “Come in me, Eiji, I want you to give me a baby. I want you to breed me until I’m full of your child, over and over again. I want you to fill me up un-ah!”

Kirishima ruts forward and you swear you feel something within you tear at the pure size of him. He nips at your jaw, nosing along your neck, brushing against it whenever he pulses forward. The salacious sounds filling the air only contribute to your arousal, floods of slick washing over his dick as he slots in and out of you.

He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight,” before his hands travel down towards your thighs, pushing them back until he has you folded so only your shoulders are against the bed. You whimper as you turn, your mark pushed against the mattress until it is pulsing with pain.

“I’m gonna come in this tight, wet little hole until you’re leaking, until you taste it.” Kirishima can feel the impending doom of his spend when his cock twitches within your quivering heat. You try and clamp your walls down around him to keep his length sheathed within you for longer, but it’s of no use. He has set a bruising pace that he intends on following through with until you are screaming and his come is coating your soft insides.

Your toes are pointed toward the ceiling, curling downward when he slams into you. The pace of his hips is menacing, something you should fear, because the feel of him makes you think he might rip you open. But, you’re sure you’d let him split you down the middle and you’d still say thank you. Mumbles of incoherent drivel pour from your mouth along with your rivulets of drool and tears.

Kirishima chuckles, “Look at you, a beautiful mess for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I can’t wait to fill this precious cunt up. I’ll give you as many babies as you can hold.”

The call to your womb must be strong, because he stays slotted within you for a moment, fingers rolling around your thighs as he takes you in. His crimson irises dole over your body, from your plush lips to your plump chest, on downward to the gentle bump of your belly as his cock nudges within you. Kirishima abandons your thighs for your stomach, raking his nails along the unmarked plane of skin, thin angry lines left behind when he pulls away.

You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his touch pointed on your navel, “I want to have your baby, Eijirou. All of them, as many as you can give me. Please, I’m just a vessel for you to use.”

His eyes deepen at that sentiment, but something else passes through them. He catches his lip within the bite of his teeth before leaning down to kiss you, palm turned against your stomach so his knuckles drag along your skin, but he can slot his fingers between yours and squeeze.

“You are so much more than that,” he whispers into your mouth, as if the words may stay caged in there forever for you to marinate on them. He kisses your cheeks, the tears sticking on his lips, his voice thick when he speaks, “You’ll be the prettiest mama out there, you know? So beautiful and round, absolutely breathtaking when you have to waddle around, you’re so full.”

Kirishima is close to whimpering, eyes screwed shut as he speaks his heart, “I love you, Princess, god, you mean the world to me.”

Your fingers find purchase against his shoulders, the scratched skin beneath the pads of your digits making you salivate. You’ve marked him, too, even if it’s not the same. You want to spend the rest of your life repeating it over and over, marking him every time he finds you beneath the sheets, so that the others may know that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. The two of you are completely intertwined in every facet of the word, limbs and hearts woven into the same piece of soul fabric, begging to be together until the end of time.

The edges of your vision begin to dither as you come closer to your climax. You swallow the lump in your throat and whimper, “Kirishima, I think I might-”

He is listening, the hand not currently wrapped around yours reaching between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit. A bruising kiss is pressed firmly to your mouth, dampening your lewd sounds as you writhe under his bulky body, hardly moving but trying desperately all the same. You can’t help it as your mouth parts to lick at seam of his lips, but he willingly opens his mouth to you, receiving the pointed lapping of your tongue as he slowly begins to rut back into you.

“I want you to beg for what you want,” he gasps into your teeth, the tip of your noses clashing as the sound of his weighty balls slap against the curve of your ass. He can taste the saltiness of your tears as your mouths meld together, and it makes him smirk, “Are you cryin’? Like a sweet little bitch, crying for my cock?”

You want to answer him, to tell him how much you love every part of him, to shower his body in praise until you’ve gone mute, but your throat is hoarse and your mind is hazy, and you can’t form words. Instead, you tilt your head and kiss him harder, your tongue swiping over his as you try to convey how you’re feeling into this kiss, attempting to make his world spin. You want to give him a small taste of what he has done to you, even if it will never truly meet the searing reality of his hold he’s got on you, body, mind and soul.

“Cry for me, darling,” Kirishima coos as his mouth travels down the curve of your jaw until his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and ear, “I want Bakugou to hear you when I stuff your cunt full, all the way from out in the hallway. Gonna put my child in you while you sob for my cock, begging me to keep fucking you deeper and deeper into this bed.”

You can hardly create coherent sentences, between his mouth and hands and cock all working at your relentlessly, the ministrations of his body creating a throbbing euphoria between your hips. You whine at the idea of having to say much of anything right now, let alone an understandable string of words.

His balls are weighty as they slap against your backside, the sound making your throat bob, and he growls, “Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

The nipping of his teeth against your mouth makes your cunt spasm, and Kirishima lets loose a strangled sound from the back of his throat. Based on the whimpering curtail of his voice, you can tell that he’s close to coming a second time. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tightly as you edge yourself to a release. You have to close your eyes so the white-hot arousal boiling in your core can’t blur your vision.

“Y-Your come, your cock,” is all you can find yourself repeating over and over, your being too fucked-out to say much of anything else. Hot tears leak down your temples, exhausted sobs making your voice shake when you scream for him, throat close to shattering in its hoarseness.

Kirishima leans back so he can preen, his cock stretching you even further in this position. Your eyes bug out before you can squint your lids closed again. He chuckles, the sound dark and ominous as it reverberates around in the room, “Do you know how fuckin’ hard it’s been to control myself around you? God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for months, breed you like a good little bitch in heat, give you loads of my come until you’re bursting at the seams with it.”

His lewd words are what bring you toppling over the edge, the thought of his come leaking out of your abused pussy, him plugging you up with his cock and rutting up into you again until he’s brought on another release from within himself. Your palms slap his biceps as you grip onto him, afraid he might actually push you through the mattress with the ferocity of his hips. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will have blooming bruises all over your body, marking you up like flowers spread throughout a garden.

“Fucking hell at this sloppy pussy, Princess,” Kirishima’s hands on your thighs tighten, biting deep into the muscle until you swear he hits bone, “I’m gonna breed you up so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Keep you hidden in here, fuck you endlessly, until you’re begging me to quit.”

“No,” you gasp out, your voice crackling even on the single syllable, “don’t stop.”

Kirishima smirks down at you, “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

You are shaking your head, silently encouraging him because your voice is shot to hell. You dig your nails into his biceps, shaking him just enough that he understands your subtext, starting to rock his hips against your ass, the thick shaft of his cock slipping along your inner walls as he works you closer to the crest of climax.

It’s just on the precipice of your body, your entire form overheated with the flames of arousal. You want to cry, the end so close and yet feeling so unachievable. Kirishima releases one of your thighs to attend to your clit, the pace of his circling finger matching that of his cock pounding into your heat. With each thrust, you see another wave of stars in the air above you. Even in the low candlelight of this secret room, you can see the glimmering in Kirishima’s irises, as if he has his own galaxy tucked away in his pupils, bringing it out for you and for you only.

Kirishima curses, dropping his head to watch his cock slip from your wet core, silvery strands of slick the only thing connecting him to you now, “Gotta stop clenching so hard, sweetheart,” somehow he manages to push himself back into you, despite the size of your hole. Kirishima grabs one of your ankles and settles it on his shoulder, turning to kiss the joint, “Such a tight little pussy, but so fucking sloppy. You’re dripping.”

His nose nudges along the length of your calf as he picks up his pace, rutting into you with purpose. You wonder how much of his animalistic nature will bleed into the other aspects of your life, but you don’t have much time to ponder before the coiling heat of your orgasm is beginning to build up and cloud your consciousness. Your jaw hangs slack and Kirishima takes the opportunity to slip his index and fourth finger between your lips, the golden ring on his finger cool on the heated pad of your tongue.

“There you go,” he murmurs absentmindedly, tilting his head to consider you. You circle one hand around his wrist, pushing him further into the hollows of your cheeks. His eyes widen at the action and it makes his hips falter in their pacing.

Kirishima can feel the tightening of your cunt around his cock, and the tears in your eyes, and he knows that you’re close, “C’mon, angel, I want you to come on my cock. You feel so fuckin’ good around me, holding me tight.”

You sniffle, drool creating a silvery rivulet down your cheek, “Eijirou, please,” you are whimpering into his knuckles, praying that you don’t bite down on him too hard.

“S’okay,” Kirishima’s voice is kind, in stark contrast to the harsh nature of his dick as it jackhammers into you. “Bite me, I’ll be okay. I just want to make you come.”

Listening to his plea, you grind your teeth together around his knuckles, biting into his skin until you taste metal. The release of pressure gives way to an earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt spasming around his cock until you can feel your arousal seeping out of your body, dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You suck on Kirishima’s fingers, tonguing his knuckles to distract yourself from screaming.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumb grazing your cheek and chin as he continues to rock into your core. You are still gushing when he tenses up, thighs rippling as he readies himself to come for the second time. Kirishima’s voice is hoarse, near a growl as he looks down at you, a blubbering, hiccuping mess beneath him, “F-Fuck, Princess, you’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re full with our child. I can’t wait to stuff you full over and over again, until you’re bursting at the seams.”

You start to plead, your words nothing more than blather, foaming at the mouth as you whine for his spend, tears beading at the corners of your eyes in your desperation. Your nails rake down the length of his muscled back, your heels dipping into the flesh of his ass to keep him pinned to you, for just a moment of reprieve from his agonizingly thick length. The forked veins running along either side of his cock make your walls quiver as your abused insides beg for a break.

When he feels a newfound tightness as he tries to withdraw from you, he seethes through his teeth, “Shit, sweetheart. St-Stop clenching, or else I’ll have to fuck you all over again.”

There’s a pause, a stilling of his body, as he looks down at you, drooling and crying around his knuckles. He chuckles, the sound reverberating his chest in such a way that shakes the very room. Your body tenses at the timbre, eyes struggling to focus on one specific point on his face as he ravishes you with his carmine irises.

“Actually,” he tilts his head, shoving his fingers further down your throat until you are gagging around his digits, “go ahead, push it out, it just means I get to breed this tight little pussy all over again.”

Kirishima leans forward, brushing his mouth against your jaw as he sheathes himself within you inch by inch, slow and salacious, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you to the fucking brim anyway, angel. You want this load?”

You can’t help the instant wanton words that fly from your mouth, sparking in the midst of the two of you, pouring out of your chest like fire. You whine and keen, sucking his knuckles into the hollows of your cheeks to try and bring him closer to the precipice of pleasure, to give him the same radical sensation that he has given you twice now.

“Give it,” you force the words out despite his thick digits pushing down on the muscle of your tongue, “please, Eiji, I-I want your ba-oh.”

He growls, bludgeoning his cock into your cunt as he starts coming undone within you. A blooming heat starts in your core and blossoms upward until you think smoke may come out of your nostrils. It clouds your mind, the slightest bit of consciousness creeping forward so you can enjoy the way he paints your walls with his spend, filling you just as he promised.

“Take it,” he snarls, sharpened teeth making your back arch, “take my fucking load.”

Your legs wobble, but you keep yourself wrapped around him, allowing him to ride out his pleasure until his hips are sloppy, thighs brushing your bruised ass a final time before he drops his head to your chest. He is hot, unbearably warm, but you endure it because it means he is here.

His hands brush down from the backs of your knees until he is pushing you back into the mattress, allowing your body to rest, limp against the sheets. Kirishima kisses the swell of your breast, imagining how full they’ll be once your womb has been filled and your body starts to change. He could cry at the thought of it, his animalistic side attempting to take over his consciousness, warm at the thought of you carrying on his lineage, giving him heir after heir.

Kirishima hums against your sternum, hands encompassing your sides in full, fingers splayed across your ribs, “Such a pretty little thing, angel. You’re perfect. I love you.”

He starts to pull from you but you whine, clenching around him so tightly that your combined arousal seeps from your cunt, dripping down the curve of your ass. Your nails bite into his biceps, clutching onto him like an anchor, “Please don’t leave me, Eijirou.”

“Hey,” his voice is soothing, nose nudging over your jugular. He presses himself back into you, filling you up even as he starts to soften, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. You’re mine, my mate.”

You swear you see the curling wisps of flames seeping from his teeth and tongue, the dragon in him coming forth in a surge of possessiveness. His eyes drop to the piercing bite adorning your shoulder, a mix of blood and bruising on display, the mating mark stirring his cock within your cunt again and you’re afraid he might already be starting up for a third round.

Tilting your head skyward, you beseech him for his mouth, pursing your lips just enough that he understands your silent plea. Kirishima’s smirk melts into a smile, dimples piercing his cheeks, and he meets you halfway, slotting his mouth to yours. The warmth of your lips meld together, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but you do not care because at least he is buried to the hilt within you and his body is flush with your own. You see stars as you are deprived of oxygen, but this might be the most pleasant way to go – full to the brim of him, his mouth starving you, your entire being swallowed by the essence of him.

“You don’t quit that, I’ll take you again, right now,” Kirishima is growling as his mouth finds your mark again, pressing a harsh kiss to the purpled skin, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you’re not sure what specific event has stirred them on, but you let them fall nonetheless. Kirishima is quick to kiss them away before they can stain your pillowcase, whispering kindness as he brushes his mouth against each of your eyelids, “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Always, Eijirou,” you whisper into thin air, your voice reaching his ears and sending a bolt of lightning down his spine, “I’ve always been yours, from the moment I saw you, I belonged to you.”

“And I have always been yours too.” Kirishima brushes his nose against the bridge of your face, “I can’t wait to build a legacy with you.”

-

The thudding of footsteps echoes down the hall, drawing carmine irises up from their previously hooded position. He rolls his eyes, standing to his feet, sword weighing heavy on his belt, “What is it?”

“Very important news,” the younger man’s throat bobs as he stutter steps backward, “The, uh, the ball that’s being held later-”

The blonde wags his finger in midair, a chuckle parting his smirking mouth, “Go find someone else to figure that shit out. You’ll regret it if you go in there now.”

A widened stare follows his finger to the door, where the wood is shaking just enough that he can get the hint. The knight in front of him chuckles, sitting back down in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee, “Yeah, I wouldn’t disturb him during his breeding season if I were you.”

-

a/n: yeah, so this was supposed to be 2k. obviously that didn’t happen, lol. i hope you guys like my first true kiri fic :) 

tagging: @mirakumiruku @kamehamethot​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @shoutogepi​ @freckledoriya​ @writeiolite​ @kingtamakimurder​ @cutesuki--bakugou​

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

North Side of the Tree

North Side of the Tree by Mirrror

"Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees, Legend has it when the rains come down all the worms come up to breathe, Legend has it when the sunbeams come all the plants, they eat them with their leaves, Legend has it that the world spins round on an axis of 23 degrees..."

Midoriya Izuku is not human, thank you very much. In fact, he's forest born, a child of the moss who has known nothing but the forest and the strange, explosive boy who came to visit him during the warmer months. But when a natural disaster destroys the forest he once called home, Izuku suddenly finds himself in Musutafu, where he is all alone in a hostile and bizarre environment as he searches for his friend and some semblance of purpose. Maybe he'll try out that hero stuff Katsuki used to talk to him about? Seems interesting...

(Basically, I listened to The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake and decided to write a story)

Words: 2624, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

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

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Multi

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Inko, Midoriya Hisashi

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Hisashi/Midoriya Inko, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Midoriya Izuku is not Human, he's a faery, Fae & Fairies, Alternate Universe - Fae, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Cute Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Magic, There's more but i haven't written it yet so I won't tag it, no beta we die like my sleep schedule, Inspired by Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33724360

[liliesoftherain]

A Knight’s Honor

Ch 1 -  Hold a Star

Masterlist

Summary: You are a female squire, who is not willing to give up your dreams of Knighthood to become a slave to society to save face.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SLOWBURN

A/N: Here is the first chapter! It’s like 2am but I couldn’t get it out of my head so I started writing and realized the direction I want this to go is going to cause it to be a bit lengthy. SO I’m not sure if this will really count as a full on slow burn but I’m going to try my best! Thanks for reading!

The sky was a hushed dark, the only present source of light was the wisps of the sunbeams that peaked out from over the hills towards the east. Allowing light orange and pink tones to spread and fade into the midnight blues. The stars were also taking it upon themselves to disappear, leaving a blank canvas that was ready to painted on. You knew it wouldn’t be long before the new brilliant baby blue and feathery whites of clouds took over and spread out as far as the eye could see. It was always a breathtaking sight to see the dawn of a new day, a gentle reminder of knowing you were alive and living your dream.

“Keep movin’ lassie, ‘therwise yoo’ll be missin’ yer breakfest an’ ye dinnae want ‘at.”

Well, almost living your dream.

“Yes Sir.”

You continued to scoop the horse dung, going almost nose blind to the smell as you have been at it for a good 20 minuets already. It was thankfully the last chore of your morning duties for today and you could go straight to breakfast after this. Lazily you look back towards the sky, a small sigh escaping your lips as you continued with you work.

It was, and would always be, a dreadful chore to complete before you were able to partake in breakfast. Even though you only had to worry about it once per week, it was still disgusting to have to do when all you wanted was the smell of bread in your nose, not the smell of dung.

Yet you managed, quickly growing used to the idea and trying not to let it both you as you scarfed down whatever the lovely kitchen hands whipped up. You could not afford to to be hungry for the rest of the day, breakfast was always too early and lunch so far afterwards. If you could call it lunch. It was mostly a quick snack you were able to have for a few moments before being pulled into even more duties your Knight deemed of needing completion, duties that were a must to get done before you could even think about dinner.

Being a Knight’s Squire was all around exhausting and not what you once thought it was when you were a child. Sure, you were able to do extraordinary tasks that you only once dreamed about, such as overnight ventures to different kingdoms and quests galore. However, with your great Kingdom at peace, there were plenty of thrilling tasks that weren’t needed, like following your Knight onto the battlefield and helping to protect your home. Yes, you were greatly blessed to be born into these peaceful times, not have the displeasure of the blood and sacrifice of war, so you often scolded yourself when you found your thoughts drifting to battles and missions alike.

No, instead of dealing with disastrous enemies of front lines, you found your action of the practice field, and Lord knows you’ve seen that all too many times.

You often times loved the feeling training provided you, yet you were always disgruntled when you were frowned upon due to your gender. Not by many, in fact there were many more who believed you had every right to be here, but others tended to disagree. It was hard to force someone out of their backwater ways, and it wasn’t even just the elders who held onto this ideal, it was from your own peers as well. One peer in particular really, and it hurt you to a point to think someone you have known for most of your life could come to loath you so.

To this day you still had no idea as to why.

As a child, you had always pictured yourself as a Knight. Dreaming of the day you were able to attend wild adventures and the freedoms it would bring. Your mother, who had wanted nothing more than to groom you into the finer life, was always displeased at your father who gave you the encouragement to follow your heart. He was a giant of a man, towering over most, feared and respected among his peers. Yet he was always so loving and kind to you, and threw memories of him always stayed no matter how much time as passed since he has moved on from this world. He wanted you to understand the importance of knowing when to rely on someone, and when to rely on yourself. Your mother thought it absurd for you to know such things, saying how once you became of age, old enough to wed, you would be tethered to a man who could protect you better than you could ever protect yourself.

Which was completely and utterly injudicious.

You were most definitely able to take care of yourself, and you found no need for a man to constrain you into a submissive lifestyle that would no doubt lead you to dread the mornings you were so fond of. All because that would mean if you were awake, you would still be in the nightmare of a domesticated life.

You wanted an eternity of freedom, not a lifetime in a prison cell disguised as your home.

“Thenk ye again lassie, ye wark strong. Jist need tae quit starin’ at th’ sky.” The man chuckled, patting your head roughly with his large hand.

This man, Sir Campbell, was a Knight you helped during this particular morning chore. He was one of few to come and serve the Kingdom from a foreign land, causing his differences in tongue and spirit. While this was and always will be you’re home, the feeling of some kind of sturdy connection was formed.

He was different from his peers as were you.

It was the similarities of the differences you carried that had brought you together, you thought of him family as he did you.

“The sky is an endless adventure, Sir. Can you imagine if we were able to explore the noble skies as we did the rolling plains of foreign lands?”

He grinned at your words, an own thoughtful expression pulling on his thinned lips as he held his bearded chin in mock thought.

“Lass, ye hink tae much. ‘en again that’s whit makes ye sae sharp-witted isnae it?”

You smiled back, eyes shining with mirth at knowing you once again thought of something your elder had not.

“I’d like to think so Sir, although I get my wonder from you, as you do not think of such things on your own.”

He barked out a laugh, horses whining at the sudden noise that had caught them off guard, and echoed around them.

“Ye will be th’ death ay me yit!”

“I hope that is a day that will never come to pass Sir, not until the stars have been held in our own bare hands.”

“Ah pray ‘at day come tae pass, lassie. noo rin alang, gang enjoy yer weel deserved breakfest. Duty will be ringin;’ shortly.”

“More like screaming.”

“Aye, ‘at Sir Hizashi surly can yeel i’s true. Rin alang noo!”

You bowed your head respectfully before taking your leave once you finished putting the shovel away in its rightful spot. His laughter still ringing in your ears, causing your mood to uplift as if following suit with the edges of your mouth.

You made your way to the water spicket that was as tall as your breasts, and lifted your arms to pump the bar till water flowed from the spout. Using it to rinse your hands and face clean of a hard morning, you then dried them on your tunic, which you wore over your chain mail.

You of course wore a protective layer under the chain mail. No matter how much heat you could withstand due to your ability, you were not immune to the burns and irritations it could leave if it was placed directly on unclothed skin. You wore somewhat lose trousers, but it was only baggy enough to not be mistaken for tight undergarments, as your tunic fell down to your mid thighs. A belt holding your sword was wrapped securely around your waste, the simple leather having immense strength to hold up not only you sheath and blade, but other necessities you found yourself carrying in pouches which were also strapped on.

A simple look, but the look of a squire indeed. Not one of a high Lady of the Court.

Your feet carried you to one of your most favorite spots, the place by the kitchens. It’s were the meals were held, meals of those who lived in the castle walls yet were unable to sit at the table that was intended for those of higher status. It was an austere little place, but that did not mean it wasn’t full of life. Few rows of benches were pushed together right near a door that led into the kitchens themselves, lanterns placed along the wall behind them. It was a place that was never overcrowded, but quaint enough to be able to sit together and laugh and talk about the hardship of the days like it wasn’t a problem at all.

You spotted a man you knew very well already sitting at the only available table, and gladly quicken your pace to reach your destination faster than your fatigued body would have liked. You snatched a roll from his plate once your were close enough, taking a bite from the delicious bread as you sat to his right. He barley glanced your way before reaching out to grab another roll from the basket to his left, letting out a sigh while he did.

“Tis too early to be dealing with you.”

“Ah, you flatter me kindly Shinsou.” You laughed.

“Anything but I assure you, (l/n).” Even with his exasperated tone seeping into his guttural voice, he threw you a small smile in welcome.

He enjoyed your presence and often did seek you out for it, ignoring the few who once scolded him for it years prior. He did not care you were a woman, woman or not you could kick anyone’s behind if you saw fit. You were here, just like everyone else, training to become a Knight. While many would complain, he knew you had the most reason to. Yet you never once spoke of the hardships of training. You bared through it, proving time and time again that you wanted to be here and you deserved to be as well.

“I say, you become Sir Aizawa more and more with every passing day, tis almost disturbingly so how you two are alike in manners.” You shook your head, grinning as you grab a bowl and began to fill it with warm porridge that was present on your right. That was one of the perks of finishing earlier than expected, besides having more down time, the food was still warm.

“If I am becoming my mentor than you must know you are surely becoming yours.”

“I am not as boisterous as you believe, Sir Hizashi is a man whose energy knows no bounds. No one can thinking of beating him in such a game.” You rolled your eyes, already picturing the assault your ears were to be faced with today as soon as you went to report. Sir Hizashi was a pleasant Knight and wondrous mentor, with many talents and a vast knowledge no one gave him enough credit for. Yet, he was always so terribly loud, often forgetting his surroundings and letting loose with wild battle cries and deafening laughs that stayed echoing through the valleys for months.

“You cannot play me for a fool, (l/n). I see it grow in you each day.”

“If you see me as Sir Hizashi then you must realize you will never be able to rid yourself of me.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, a wooden cup up to his parted lips to drink the lukewarm liquid, “what is it that makes you believe such a tale?”

“Our mentors are both kindred spirits of course, they have known one another since childhood and they continue to be in each other’s life to this very day.” You beamed, a such intense look of happiness on your face Shinsou could not find it in him to pull away from it.

“How joyous,” his hand came to pinch the bridge of his nose as your dazzling look became devilish with the smug smile that taunted him so, “ you will only serve to deepen my scars of sleepless nights.”

“Oh Shinsou, I am afraid my presence can do nothing more to what is already permanently etched into your skin. Not even help it I’m afraid.”

“You may bet right.” He chuckled, looking down at you and plucking the apple from your hand that you had just picked up not a second prior.

“Oi-” He cut you off with a loud crunch of a now ruined apple, his chewing only serving to fuel your anger.

“You sly fox what was that for?”

“You always pick the most juiciest apples from the bunch, tis only natural I may want a taste for myself.” He used the red fruit to hide the twitch of his lips at your bewildered expression.

Your reactions were always the best to witness, always making an exaggerated face for no reason other than you could, or perhaps it was just because you never realized how much emotion you actually shown to others.

“I pick the tastiest apples for myself, not to share! You gluttonous cutpurse!”

The sound of loud footsteps heading in your direction caused the pair of you to halt your conversation and glance up, seeing a pair of Squires making their way to your table. You sent out a quick huff of breath, unsure if you were willing to deal with his attitude so early in the morning. Shinosu kept his mouth shut, unwilling to express his distaste as verbally as you, but still felt it nonetheless.

“Ah Shinsou! (l/n)! Tis good to see you both in high health this fine morning!” One smiled, taking a seat in front of you while the other boy took a spot to the left of him, diagonally from you.

“Kirishima.” Shinsou let out a curt nod, having no will ill towards this gentleman at all. Only confusion, if not pity, for how he has to put up with the child next to him.

“Good to see you in such high spirits as always Kirishima.” You gave a polite smile, quickly snatching your apple back from Shinsou’s unsuspecting hand.

You innocently smiled at the red head in front of you as if you did nothing wrong, ignore the glaring and grumbling from the boy beside you.

“You two are the ones in high spirits it seems!” Kirishima laughed as the exchange, seeing your pleased expression and Shinsou’s exasperated one.

“Tch.”

The noise caused a flutter of irritation to pass through you, but you ignored it and glanced at the blond who had not spoke a word yet. Focusing on filling his bowl with breakfast instead of pleasantries. He bit harshly into a roll, setting the ladled down once he finished scooping the now cooling porridge.

“Good morning Bakugou.” You spoke shortly, not wanting to be rude to the other member of the table.

“Shove off.”

You clicked your tongue, not knowing why you bothered in the first place as you knew that would be his response. Kirishima gave you an apologetic smile, changing the subject to ask about future events the current day will hold for the lot of you. He was always able to lift the mood so easily, no matter the circumstances.

It was an enjoyable breakfast while it lasted, save for the brooding boy who only chimed in with insults or annoyed grunts of disagreement.

“As lovely as this has been, I must be off now. I am assisting Sir Aizawa in his visit of a neighboring kingdom. We are simple escorts of the Chamberlain and his youngest brother. “ Shinsou sighed.

The sun was more visible in the changing sky, almost fully so. Only a sliver of it hidden from view as the sky lightened because of it, allowing the dim lanterns to be shut off and replaced by a brighter source.

“Oh,” You frowned, “I assume you will be gone for a few days then?”

“Three at most, if it can be helped.” He mirrored your reaction.

He never liked leaving you alone. He never has doubted your ability to take care of yourself, that wasn’t the issue. More so it had to do with the glaring boy sitting a few feet away, sharp crimson glaring daggers into warm violet. Bakugou was by no means the kindest man to his peers around him, but he seemed to have an extra special case of bitter anger for you that exceeded his normal gruffness by tenfold. Shinsou knew it weighed heavily on you, once friend turned foe all because of a dream. Yet you always pushed through, it was one of your most admirable traits in his opinion.

Your unwavering ability to overcome anything.

“Worried your protection will not be around to save you, (y/n)?” Bakugou sneered, his gaze never leaving Shinsou’s.

“You assume false, Katsuki. I have no need for anyone’s protection but my own.” You spat back, hating how the bastard wouldn’t even look at you.

As if he seen you as something less than a person, something that didn’t even deserve his time of day.

“Come now you two, please no fighting so early! Let’s end this breakfast in good spirits and go on with our day.” Kirishima pleaded, always being the mediator, bless his soul.

“A day is only so lovely when the face of that wench is not in my sights.” Bakugou hissed, clenching his teeth as he felt the anger rise in him as Shinsou stood and grabbed your arm.

You were half tempted to lunge at the foul-mouth boy, but Shinsou’s strong hand on your upper arm held you back.

“Leave the man-child be, let us be on our way. I bid thee good day gentlemen.” Shinsou spoke, cold eyes turning away from Bakugou to address Kirishima, the only person his goodbye was intended for.

“Enjoy your day, may it go by swiftly for you,” You spoke to Kirishima who just gave a wavering grin, uneasy at the tension that had grown. You faced Bakugou who finally had the decency to look at you, and you could see the vexation boiling in his eyes, “you hog-hearted knave.”

You left your farewell at that, ignoring the shouts he threw as you and Shinsou as you grabbed your dishes, bringing them over to be rinsed and then set inside the kitchens for proper cleaning from the kitchen hands later.

You glanced back at the table to see them both barley rising to follow what you two have just done, before turning back to your friend with a displeased frown.

“I wish you were not my voice of reason.”

“You would be damned if I were not.” He pointed out, turning to walk away.

“You are right, of course. Yet that does not mean I like it.” Your frown lifted into a tender smile as you reached out to stop him from walking off, knowing you going to have to bid your best friend farewell.

“Like it or not, I will always be.” He turned back to face you, saying those words on purpose. Understanding the weight of them. While the kingdom was at peace, that did not mean all danger was vanquished.

It was simply hidden better.

“Aw, so you do agree that we are kindred spirits? Shinsou you sappy sack of flour!”

“Hush your tongue, wretched girl,” He grinned, “You best behave while I am gone, understand?”

“Yes yes, I am able to to take care of myself and be without problems for a measly two days.” You rolled your eyes, mischief all over your face though the words you spoken were intended for innocence.  

“I am serious.” He deadpanned, noticing the look that only grew at his words.

“And so am I.”

“I do not believe it.”

“You are right to do so.”

He groaned as you laughed, shaking his head at you in mock disappointment. His look then hardened and he took your hand in his, as if he were about to shake it.

“In three days.” Seriousness in his eyes as he whispered.

This was an unspoken tradition between the both of you. A silent promise to return, return alive, in the allotted time given.

“In three days.” You repeated, your grip on his hand tightening before releasing altogether.

A smile crossed you both before you took off down separate paths, you glancing up at the sky wishing to see the stars once more without having to look back at the boy walking away. Because you knew, Shinsou was the closest thing you would get to accomplish your wild dream of holding a star. It may be silly, but if it would be anyone, it would be him: a shining star who had the world beneath his feat and the endless sky around him.

However, unknown to you, a different kind of star was staring into your back as you left. This star was as big and bright as millions of stars together and was known as the sun. And be damned if the sun was out shined by a measly twinkle in the sky he owned.

[vividlybnha]

fighting a loosing battle

 @krbkweek2k19 Day 1 (April 14)

Dance/Suits/Music 

Warnings: Bakugou is a love sick idiot and Kirishima wins.

Word Count: 1995

Author’s Note: Not gonna lie, I got really carried away writing this. Was gonna end it before it hit 1k but here we are. I love these idiots too much for my heart to handle.

Bakugou doesn’t want to admit it but he’s lost. Totally and utterly lost. He knows when he can hear the chaotic sounds from behind the apartment door, the mixture of music and pots clanging together. But it’s not his fault that he lost. It’s not like Bakugou asked for another villain to show up right before he had to clock out. Yet nonetheless, the noise continues and Bakugou can feel the dread fill him. He can already hear the teasing.

Opening the door makes the pain in his palms tingle, the barely there burning of his skin and Bakugou can’t help but hiss. At least he’s home right? He doesn’t have to go all out on another villain or write another report, he gets to sit down and lay back.

When he opens the door Kirishima isn’t standing there, ready to get his reward for winning their race, which is suspicious because on the rare times that he does win he starts gloating as soon as the door creaks open. He sees the mess of his shoes pilled up against the side of the hallway, mud tracing the bottom. Yeah, Kirishima is definitely home. The music blares louder, soft lyrics smoothing into the sweet sounds of the piano (so different from the loud rock music).

Pulling off the sweaty T-shirt Bakugou can feel his muscles stretching and straining. A feeling he would have appreciated in his younger days, an acknowledgment that he did a good job with training but now it’s the telltale signs that the next few days he’ll have to go a bit easier if he wants to be able to sleep without the tingling pains. Pulling off his socks makes his thighs strain and all Bakugou wants is Kirishima’s arms wrapped around his waist, his fingers delving into his skin, massaging sweet kisses into neck welcoming him home. But that bastard still hasn’t greeted him yet.

He tries to keep quiet as he makes his way to the kitchen, fixated on scaring him as a form of revenge. Which is so funny to Bakugou that despite the fact that they are both pro heroes that fight incredibly dangerous villains that he will still squeak when Bakugou surprises him. He presses himself closer to the wall, grin pulling at his lips. Oh, this one is going to be good. Bakugou takes a quick turn with palms up ready for tickling but stops quickly upon seeing him.

The evening sun presses golden rays into the tiles of their floor, cascading it as an orange sea. It already makes the scene that of a romance movie and then he sees Kirishima. Hair lowly swaying across his shoulders, his sweetly scarred arms brought to his chest as he twirls in lazy circles across the kitchen floor. He looks so soft in the orange light, smiling and singing along to the music. He can see the food bubbling over, it’ll probably burn if they don’t get to it but Bakugou can’t bring himself to stop the scene from playing on. Kirishima dips into another twirl and he giggles. The idiot actually giggles, like something is funny and Bakugou can feel his heart breaking with it. He brushes the hair out of his eyes before dramatically posing to a quick strike of the guitar, one hand high in the air and the other bringing the spoon to his lips as he mouths the words.  Bakugou can’t stop the chuckle at his idiot husband.

Kirishima, of course, as always screams and drops his spoon. Yet the heartfeltness of the scene doesn’t change. Bakugou smiles over Kiirishima’s incoherent yelling of “When did you get here?” and “How long have you been standing there?” and walks over to him following the gentle sways of the music.

“Hey to you to Idiot. You looked so cute dancing I couldn’t help but watch.” Bakugou slowly wraps his aching arms around Kirishima’s waist, ignoring the soreness in favor of the warmth of his skin. He presses impossibly close, attempting to steal his heat, lips pressing gently to Kirishima's neck. He kisses all the way up until he finds Kirishima’s lips again, which are already curled into their usual grin.

“You’re a jerk.” He dips closer for another kiss, soft and sweet. “And a loser, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?” Kirishima’s head dips back in a laugh and Bakugou has to pull his waist closer because he leans so far back he thinks he might fall. He doesn’t but recoils from his laughter and smushes Bakugou’s face in his hands. Bakugou grunts and glares at him.

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do with this win. What is my sweet oh sweet reward going to be?”

Bakugou pulls his face from Kirishima’s soft hands. Despite wanting to nuzzle closer. Kirishima’s hands despite the years of work as a pro hasn’t calloused like Bakugou’s, they are soft and warm and no matter how many times that Kirishima will touch him his hands are always welcomed and loved.

“Maybe it can be me saving dinner and not letting it burn?”

“Oh fuck.”

Kirishima pulls away from Bakugou and grabs another spoon from the cupboard, stirring the already burnt meal. Bakugou leans against the counter, cracking his knuckles against his jaw as he watches.

“I’m not hearing a thank you. I just saved our dinner.” He grumbles at when Kirishima pushes his face away from him and laughs, “Your not getting one. I may not make food like you can but if you had gotten home earlier then maybe it would be different. Be happy I didn’t order sushi.” So he’s gonna pull this card, as always. Bakugou ignores it this time in favor of wrapping around Kirishima from behind, nuzzling as close as he can.

“You’re clingy today.” It comes out more like a question than a statement and Bakugou leans just away enough so he isn’t muffled by Kirishima’s throat. “Missed you.” If he was younger he’d be burning with embarrassment, probably angrily signing those words off but he doesn’t because for the years they’ve been together its always the same feeling when he comes home. It’s always the same smile he comes home to. Yet he can feel the faint anger when Kirishima laughs though. It’s not funny, he misses him, he always does.

Kirishima’s helplessly soft fingers find their way to his cheek, holding him close while he kisses his cheeks.

Bakugou can’t help but love the times like this. Where he gets to hold Kirishima so close, smell the lavender in his shampoo, the dents of scares that line his skin. Bakugou can’t stop himself from pressing soft, knowing kisses into the manly scars.

“Love you.” He says it so softly he almost hopes that Kirishima doesn’t hear. That the words just softly drift in the air until they disappear but one of Kirishima’s hand grapples onto his and he’s smiling.

Kirishima clumsily places the top over the pot, moving it off the now gone fire and turns to face Bakugou. Usually, now he takes the chance to ramble on about his day, the stupid things he saw, his thoughts but today he doesn’t. Today he takes Bakugou’s hands in his and sways to the music.

He can still feel the faint straining of his muscles as he moves to the music, twirling in small circles to the piano chords. But he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t want to. He wants to hold Kirishima as close as he can and simply dance to the music. He can’t even remember the last time they danced together, under all the chaoticness of adult life they usually end up passed out on the bed endlessly mumbling over their days and sassily drawn out remarks.

Bakugou draws Kirishima closer with another step. This is the closest he will ever come to true peace, to true love and happiness. Right here in Kirishima's soft arms, his warm body pressed close to him as he whispers the lyrics to a song Bakugou doesn’t care to hear.

He wants to tell Kirishima all about his day. About how much he missed him between reports, how much he wanted to text him about the simple things. He wants to tell him just how much he loves it when he holds him so closely, how much he loves just being near him. But his words as always get caught in his throat and the only thing he can do is hold Kirishima's hand tighter. As tight as he can.

They stay there for an impossibly long time. So long that the orange sunbeams turn dark and the food goes cold. Kirishima is the one that finally pulls away, pulling Bakugou from his hazy half sleep state. Bakugou only allows him to because he knows they need sleep and food and they probably don’t need to stand in the kitchen for hours on end. Or at least that's what he tells himself because if it was up to him they’d never leave this moment.

Kirishima once again takes Bakugou’s face into his delicate hands and kisses him fully. Barely open lips pressing together. Bakugou can’t help his hands from roaming, pulling Kirishima’s shirt adjacent to him. Anything to have him closer, anything to just feel him there. He grunts angrily when Kirishima pulls away, leaning closer for more. Wanting to feel his lips litter his body with love.

“‘M hungry.” He says between kisses. Bakugou is too, he can feel his stomach grumble with the feeling. He keeps the thought of, ‘well I’m hungry for you’ well in the back of his brain.

“The foods probably cold by now.” It is, it most definitely is. With a grunt, Bakugou begins to pull the plates out of the cabinets and the utensils from the drawers. Kirishima gets out their drinks, still twirling to the music in the background. Bakugou doesn’t see when Kirishima changes it from the soft swirl of piano and guitar and small charms to the grumble of rock music. He can’t stop the grin that overtakes his face and turns to Kirishima.

“Thought you said you were hungry?” He can’t stop the tapping of his foot to the electric rift of the guitar. Kirishima just smiles brightly as always and Bakugou can’t help but feel hopelessly in love.

“I am, the music isn’t stopping anything.”

But it is. And Kirishima knows it is because as soon as the lyrics hit they are both banging their heads and screaming as loud as they can. Even with the knowing look of happiness they share, even with the small flutter of butterflies in Bakugou’s stomach he blushes and stomps his feet to the music.

They don’t get to dinner for a while. They stay in the kitchen, not dramatically swaying to the music like in those stupid romantic movies, like before but rocking as hard as they can, laughing and pulling each other’s strings.

And Bakugou for the life of him can’t figure out which one he loves more.

Then Kirishima turns, hair splayed across his face and laughs hard, he plays the fake guitar wonderfully. Bakugou almost wishes that he was a rockstar instead of a pro-hero because damn could he pull it off. Then he pulls Bakugou close, smashing their lips together with the sheer intensity of the song and leans back, screaming the lyrics. Bakugou feels bright and lovesick and stupid.

He can’t really lose when he is with Kirishima. He can’t just be quiet and himself and angry. He is more, so much more in Kirishima's soft, delicate, wonderful hands. He is everything he wanted to be and Kirishima’s somehow even more.

“I still haven’t gotten a reward yet, I think I might know what I want.”

And upon all the yelling in the music Bakugou hears him so clearly, “Hm?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

And Bakugou finds himself falling in love all over again.

[boku-no-family]

Days Beyond

This is something, no one asked for, but the idea was stuck in my mind for a while and I felt the need to write it out. 

It’s a lot more angst than anything I wrote ever before. I hope you will enjoy it with me. Thank you so much 💫

[fem! reader; Kirishima Eijirou; Bakugou Katsuki] [Word Count: 1.282] [angst] 

Thick air is seeping through your window, heavy with moisture it’s that muggy feeling before a thunderstorm approaches. The sky is wide, though, not a single cloud is in sight and golden rays are prickling over your crouched figure on the sofa.

Your skin is sticky and your damp clothes are clinging to your frame, but you don’t care as you are snuggled up into his favorite sweater, waiting for him to come home. You stare outside the window, as time passes, an unwavering clock ticking your life away. Gazing over the city’s skyline, light fans iridescently over stacked roof tops. You fill your lungs with diluted air, counting every second till your apartment door opens.

He storms inside, broad, hefty steps making their way up to you. “Babe, I’m home”, he chirps happily and you are up on your feet before he can reach you. A mix of sweat, dark woods and warm spicy amber fills up your nostrils. Your heart beats out of time and you can’t wait till this halcyon scent encases your entire being. With little effort, he scoops you up into his muscular arms, pressing you against his toned chest. “I missed ya so much, babe”, he rubs his cheek against your face, spiky red hair tickling like a wildfire against the soft flesh of your neck.

Giggling, you cup his face with your delicate hand, a loving smile curling the ends of your lips. “I missed you too, Eiji”, you inch closer, closing the gap between your molded bodies with a bittersweet kiss.

Distortion. Hazard.

 The mere vigorous thought of it is enough to send a burning riot through your veins. Thrilling excitement is tugging on your heartstrings, as you wait for him to come back. To come back home. To come back home to you.

Your gaze starts to quiver, your hands tremble slightly. A metallic taste is spreading in your mouth as you bite your chapped lips. You can hear the box inside your head breaking as you try to recall this faint memory.

The second you grasp it, it oozes like oil through your cold fingers. You tug his sweater closer around your shivering self.

You wait. You are waiting for him to come home.

Time edges forward, the sky lapsing into a magnificent tangerine. You are waiting.

Late afternoon settles over the city, dying the scenery into a myriads of fiery shadows. You are waiting.

A deep thunder rumbles on the horizon. The air is close and it’s hard to breathe.

Warped reality overlaps with your lucid memory. The translucent veil is lifting and your chest feels tight. Hurtful realization washes over your body in blustering waves. You are waiting. You are waiting for him to come back home. You are waiting for something that will never happen. Kirishima Eijirou will never come back home. Kirishima Eijirou is dead.

It’s been a year and a half and you are still waiting. Waiting every day. Waiting to hear his cheerful laughter rumbling in his chest. Wishing you could feel the sensation of his lips ghosting over yours for one last time.

The imprint of the moment Bakugou called you is still vivid in your mind. It was the one time in your life, you heard Bakugou Katsuki crying. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I let him break. I’m sorry”

The moment Kirishima broke was the moment your entire existence shattered, leaving you behind hollow, like a broken mirror. You felt like someone skinned you alive, ripped every piece of your body apart before he scattered your ashes and buried your heart. In this ashen moment, where your whole world was tinted in charcoal black ink, you realized how evanescent life is, how frail humans are. We are nothing more than fragmented existences in the blur of the vast universe.

Thunder roars in the sky. The last purplish pink sunbeams are frenetically cutting through the billowing grey clouds hovering dangerously close above the buildings.

Knees hugged to your chest, you wrap your arms around your trembling body, sinking deep into Eijirou’s sweater. You can feel the tears you fought so desperately welling in your tired eyes. Lightning strikes outside and your throat is clogged. Feeling your perception fading away like the smoke of a doused fire, you know that you can’t take this alone.  

Dialing the only number that comes to your mind, your heart is pounding poignantly against your ribcage. Your fingers cling frantically around the device, as you wait for him to answer. Heavy raindrops are bickering canorously against your window.

The line whirrs several times before he picks up. “Oi, shitty woman, what’s it?”, he grumbles. “Katsuki –“, your voice cracks and you hear him inhaling sharply. He doesn’t need any explanation “Again?”, he asks and you try to answer, but all that escapes your lips is a restraint silent sob and your breath hitches. “Tsk”, he huffs “Calm down shi— Calm down, baby girl”

Baby girl. That’s the nickname he gave you after endless nights spend together. Spend together with you sobbing into his chest, grieving after Eijirou. It’s a tacit agreement. You don’t know when or why it started, but he gave you the rare chance to invade his personal space. To find refuge in his warm embrace. You were both mourning and your world shaken to its very core, you gladly took the offer. He is - was - your fiancé’s best friend after all.

“Breathe with me”, his low baritone brings you back to your senses. Your mind hazy you try to follow his orders, regaining a little control over your lost body again. “Damn, you’re home woman, right? Just stay where you are, I’ll be there in 20 minutes baby girl.”

Another lightning strikes and you hum into your phone, relieved that he understands even without much communication. Rain taps loudly against your window and you hear a last “Tsk” before he ends the call.

Meanwhile Bakugou exits his office. Dull thunder rips through the ponderous rain clouds, the city is soaked in a summer storm. Carding his fingers through his ash blond hair, he sighs heavily. You are such a hassle, such a nuisance. However, being there for you is the least he can do. It’s his fault that you lost that dumbass of your fiancé and he will never forget the moment he saw the solitude flaring behind your shattered eyes.

Moreover, even though it pains him to admit it, he has a soft spot for you. He had a soft spot ever since you two met in high school. For whatever reason, though, you chose that idiot of his best friend instead of him. Maybe it was his angry attitude or his explosive nature or just some sort of shitty fate working against him. Seeing you together with that blockhead was by any means better than losing you to some real prick. Being a real man, he knows how to admit defeat. That sounds killingly like one of Kirishima’s manly ideals.

Rain pounds the pavement. Already drenched Bakugou makes his way over to your apartment. His goddamn heart starts to beat faster and he demands himself to not betray him. He knows he can’t have you. You’re not his, you’re Kirishima’s. That won’t change. He saw how you buried your heart with the burnt remnants of his best friend and he will for god’s sake not take advantage of this situation.

Night is clawing its way through the dense alleyways and towering street lights are illuminating the city in a dim pale white. Reaching out for your doorbell, Bakugou takes a moment to compose his mind. It’s a hilarious thing, this taunting human heart.

[biussworld]

Imagine dating Bakugou but you've never actually held his hand because he's constantly nervous that his sweat will put you off so every time you reach out for him he pulls away. Until one day he just wipes his palm on his jeans to try and calm himself down before grabbing your hand a little too hard but you don't even mind because they're just so WARM and you can feel it spreading throughout your body as you walk together. - lady-bakuhoe💕

OMG I SWOONED

And then you're just grinning. Brightly, widely, an ear-to-ear beam plastered on your face as you walk right beside a slouched and scowling blonde. You squeeze his hand firmly and see him look at your hands from the corner of your eye. He smiles to himself, bringing the back of your palm close to his mouth and placing a little kiss on your knuckle.

"Maybe you should hold my hand more often. Sweaty palms or not."

[biussworld]

how would bakugo react about his s/o being internet famous and always trying to take pics with him/ videos etc+

hello!!! thank you for requesting uwu i hope you like it~

here's bakugou with an internet famous s/o!!!

at the start of the year he knew you were a vlogger because, well, damn kaminari and mina wouldn't stop spazzing about you!!!

kaminari would be like "CAN I BE IN YOUR VLOG PLEASE IVE BEEN A FAN EVER SINCE YOU STARTED"

AND OF COURSE YOU'D BE LIKE "YES OF COURSE!!!" then you whip your camera out and as soon as you turn it on he's WILDIN doin tiktok dances or smth

then the rest of the bakusquad got in on your thing

AND THEN THE REST OF YOUR CLASS TOO!!! they allll love being in your videos!!!

except bakugou,,, he'd just be a grumbling mess in the back of your videos while you do a lunch rush mukbang for one of your videos

OHHH and you love love love doing challenges with your friends too!

you did the numbers of layers challenge with kaminari to see how many shirts does it take to completely be immune to his quirk. (a/n not a lot please dont try it at home)

you did the chubby bunny challenge with midoriya, uraraka and tsuyu which,,, you lost bUT THAT'S OKAY IT'S YOUR VLOG IT DOESNT MATTER

you and mina do the random play dance challenge just to see who knows kpop choreographies better

AAAAA in a span of a few months in UA your channel is FILLED with a lot of videos with your classmates. it's hardly even your channel now!!!

yettt even though you've had a bajillion videos with your classmates now, or at least one with each of them, you REALLY want a video with a specific explosive blonde.

and you've told kiri about it a bajillion times already too and when you did you were always pouting and whining because AAAAAA bakugou ;A;

sometimes you sneak and film him while he's zoning out in class because GOD DOES HE NOT LOOK SO GOOD

and when you try to have a discreet lunch mukbang with him and the bakusquad YOU MAKE SURE HE'S IN THE FRAME even just a little biiiit because :((( he so cute

in the dorms you also snap a photo of him here and there,,, sometimes kirishima applauds your stalking phototaking skills because!!! how can he not sEe you you're LITERALLY THERE

there was ONE TIME you accidentally snapped a photo of him and you had your camera's flash on. HE BOOM BOOM and he BANG BANG he got mad sissy aint nobody gon play him like that

so you SWORE to delete that photo, even showing him that you actually deleted it

but you kept a copy in your backups because u sneaky like dat

ever since that day you avoided him like the plague when you're vlogging ;(( and it made him feel a little ;((( sad WHAT WHO SAID THAT lmaooo the mighty lord king bakugou does not feel sad hahahahaha

bakugou the entire day: :((((( stfu deku go bother someone else :(((((((

he wantssss the attentionnnn from youuuu he just doesnt like it when it's you him and EVERYONE he wants it to be you and him onlyyyy :((((

but he wont admit it hahahahahahaaaaaaaa

and even after you two have finally confessed and started dating he stillll won't admit that he wants to be in a video with you and only him because he wants you to ask him like how you asked kirishima or deku or todoroki or iida to be in your videos ;(((

one day he sat in his room and decided to watch one of your shitty vlogs

and the one he watched is the bestfriend tag plus q&a video you made with shitty hair kirishima

YOU WERE CLINGY FOR SUREEEE like he knew you liked hugs and shit but after seeing this video boyyyyy the way you slung your arm over kiri's shoulders HE >:((((

and the way you laughed at everything kirishima said!!!! >:((((((((

he was so jealous he left his bed and went to your room to knock and ANNOYINGLY call you from the outside

and when you opened the door, you were surprised when he let himself in!!! bold!!! mister!!!

he sat on your bed in his signature black tank top, your usual backdrop behind him as he mumbles something like "skdkdkxk video sjdjxkx let's do it"

you were just standing at the door, looking at him bewildered because this boy just went into your room sat on your bed and- OH MY GOD HE'S IN YOUR ROOM AND ON YOUR BED SKSKAKSKAKS

"what? something on my face?"

you shut the door and turn your body towards him, leaning on your door. "i..... i didn't hear what you said."

it's his turn to look at you bewildered and you swear you saw him blush but you didn't call him out on it. he huffed and cleared his throat, before repeating what he just said loud and clear, "i said i want to be in a stupid video. let's do it."

your eyes widened as you slowly broke out into a grin- you were feeling ECSTATIC above the allowed limit!!!! you tried to suppress a squeal, but they bubbled out into giggles as you hopped and sat beside him, harrassing him with a tight hug.

bakugou: awh she's so cute WHAT THE FUCK WHO SAID THAT

"so what do you want to do?" you ask him as you look up at him from his shoulders. his eyebrows furrow and he blinks a while, then grumbles "what do YOU wanna do, it's your channel!"

you let out another giggle until an idea pops up and you're like ooooo ooo oOOOOOH

"let's do the boyfriend does my makeup challenge!!!"

and before he could ask what the fUCK you were talking about you're already picking at the camera and the lighting, waddling over to your vanity to take your makeup bag and bring it with you to the makeshift studio in your room.

"hold on, hold on, what are we doing again?"

you peek at the camera and see the light flash red, signalling that it's filming. you pull your hair up in a ponytail and grin, clasping your hands together as you perform your regular video greeting.

bakugou finally saw the way your eyes sparkled and glowed when you were doing your intro. you were a natural in front of the camera, and the bright aura you were emitting definitely was more powerful in person than it is through the screen of his smartphone

he found himself grinning at you like UWU UWU and he didnt stop himself, letting you explain to him the contents of your makeup baggy

he knew this would take him long into the night, but if it meant being in one of your videos and telling the world that you belong to him and he belongs to you, then...

"alright, then. let's get this fucking video started." "kATSUSJDKDNKF you can't curse i have younger viewers ;(("

[biussworld]

No Hero

Hiiii, I wonder if anyone’s noticed it but I do not use Ground Zero as Bakugou’s hero name here in my blog since it’s not officially in the manga yet. Even though the fandom’s widely using it I’d still prefer to not use it. HOWEVER I do not discourage anyone from using it!!! It’s just my own preference hehe.

And to anyone who’s feeling anxious and unwell because of the virus, I hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself! Love you~

Here’s part two to Number One!

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki x Gender-neutral!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff if you squint.

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: @do-not-talk-to-me-i-am-awkward​ 

---

It's been a year.

Today marks exactly one year from the night you packed your bags and left him in his living room alone. You'd been with your cousin the entire time, refusing any contact with him be it physical or through multimedia. The week after you left agonizing thoughts, suffocating loneliness, and crashing waves of anxiety washed over him as he lay in his bed alone. The absence of your warmth beside him, the loss of another presence aside from yours pushing on him and pinning him on the cushions, paralyzing him. Losing you broke him.

It had taken him enormous amounts of energy to even pull himself off of the bed. He couldn't make himself a meal, couldn't bring himself to shower, couldn't bring himself to work that's why his Pro Hero ranking had dropped from #2 to #12. None of his colleagues had seen him in a year, even his teammates and best friends Red Riot and Chargebolt haven't heard from him. His neighbors say he's never been out of the house ever since, too.

So seeing Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki out, walking towards the train station wearing his suit and tie with a bouquet of flowers in his hand definitely isn't weird.

For the entire year, he'd been thinking back, about what he has done, about what had he forgotten. And it all points back to what he had said to you that night when your teary eyes looked up at him with much anger and disdain.

"How can I be the number one hero if I've got other things that bother me?!"

The scene in the back of his mind corrupts him like a plague. Regret, frustration, anxiety attacking him all at once as he shuts his eyes and lets his shaky breathing even out before taking one final deep breath.

"The world had me first. They're my greater responsibility."

No. He chose this life with you, and you and your daughter are his responsibility.

It became his mantra for the last few months as he tried to pry himself off of his bed every morning. And everyday since then, he's been trying to reach out to you, to look for you, to come home to you. After your cousin had contacted him, telling him that you're with them safe and sound, he was ready to run and run and run into your arms. He was ready to pick you up and take you back to where you belong. But his unstable mind and broken heart wouldn't let him, and he honestly didn't know what to do or what to tell you yet.

Now that he's on his feet waiting for the train ride to where you are, he's still trying to get a grasp of the situation, trying to convince himself that he's doing the right thing, he's fixing things, making them right.

---

It didn't take him long to reach your cousin's house, and according to them, you should be home right now. He's been standing at the door, hesitating to knock for a whole ten minutes. He could hear your daughter's happy gurgles and your voice cooing at the child. You were singing the Sailor Moon theme song to her, apparently, and she's been ecstatic for the past few minutes. All of it adding to the weight on his shoulders. You two sounded so happy like you didn't need some bastard like him to be in your lives. You wouldn't want him, would you?

After all, he'd only been there to sleep and eat in his house. Like what you said back then, he's been neglecting you a lot.

But he didn't come all the way here to chicken out right at your doorstep. He gulps, then knocks on the door three times. He heard you stop singing and he panics, almost ready to bolt and flee but when you swung the door open, he stopped right in his tracks.

You were there, staring at him with your doe eyes and your mouth slightly agape. You, in all your glowing glory. Both of you stood in silence for a while, as if you two were middle schoolers caught in a mutual crushing. You frowned, and your grip on the doorknob tightened as you attempted to close the door on him, but he quickly held the door, effectively stopping you from closing it on him.

"Wait! Please, listen... listen to what I have to say." He says, his eyes contorted in a way that's pulling on your heartstrings and begging you to please listen to what he has to say. So you do, and hold the door open for him a little bit. He clears his throat and casts his gaze down on the floor, before looking back at you. "I know I've been an entirely different person to you and Mizuki before all of this happened... I know I've been an ass-"

"If you're here thinking you could win me back by wallowing in your self-pity then get the fuck out of-"

"No, I'm not... I'm... sorry." His hand finds yours, and he holds onto you tight, tighter than you remembered he last held your hand. He was pleading more than he was before, and your heart hurt to see him in such a vulnerable state. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. For treating you like that, for saying all those stuff to you... I shouldn't have put my career before you two, and I never should have treated you like garbage for being there for me..."

He sighs, then takes another deep breath to collect himself before speaking again. "If I see you two, my family, as a bother and a hindrance to me becoming a hero then... I'm no hero at all. Out of all the people in the world, you two should be the most important people I should protect. You two made me who I am, made me be who I needed to be for the world and I just..." His eyes find yours and again, you couldn't find it in you to cut him off and push him away, so you nod and urge him to continue.

"I took you for granted and neglected you and our daughter of a husband and a father. I know you're a strong person, and could definitely raise her on your own. You can make her happy on your own but I married you and chose this life with you and I can't," you heard his voice break, his gaze falls to the ground and with a shaky breath, he whispers, "I can't let things be like this. I can't let you go."

You were taken aback by his confession. Bakugou was one of the most prideful people you know, even to you, but he's never lied to keep his pride on top. You know he's telling the truth, and judging by the way his hands are shaking as it held yours you also knew you can't ignore him and shut him out anymore.

After all, you chose him as he chose you.

You waste no time in cradling his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss, one you've longed for in a while. Your thumb wipes away his tears while you gently rub onto his cheekbone as if telling him that everything's going to be alright. As you pull away, you look into his eyes and tell him softly, "I love you, Tsuki. I... I forgive you."

With your words he scoops you into his arms and buries his face into your neck, his arms tightening around you as his quiet sobs rack his body. Your hands find their way into his hair and you softly soothe him, calming him down.

He looks up from your shoulder to look at your little Mizuki and says, "You two are my world. I promise I won't let you down."

[biussworld]

Number One

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki x Gender-neutral!Reader

Genre: Angst, though not very good ;u;

Warnings: Bad relationship, parental neglect, unhealthy family relationship, Bakugou is an asshole.

---

It's been going on for weeks. For weeks you both have been at each other's throats, both of you not deciding to back down from the fight. It's been on for too long to the point that he's forgotten the spark that ignited the burning tension between you two, and you've already lost how many times you've tried to extinguish it. The smoke is clawing at your throat, suffocating your lungs as you take a deep breath, careful not to choke. Tonight, you say, tonight will be the last of this. You stand in front of him, clammy and partly dried tears staining your puffy and reddened cheeks. "Enough of this, Katsuki," you say between shaky breaths and hiccups, careful not to raise your voice as your three-year-old had just been put to bed.

"Enough of what?"

His nonchalant expression and the monotonous sound that came with it drove you crazy, and you almost slapped yourself in frustration as he opens his mouth to speak again, but you beat him to it. "This. This! Katsuki, you come home late at night, and when you do we never talk. We always argue, we fight, we scream at each other, we-" you run out of breath, placing your hand on your waist and the other on your chest as you try to calm yourself down, "you don't even spare your daughter a glance anymore."

An image of your daughter crossed his mind.

Mizuki, dressed in a mess of black and neon orange clothing to 'surprise her hero dada' when he comes home. As soon as Bakugou opens the door, she lunges at him full force, locking her arms around his legs. "Dada, look! I am you!" she says, immediately making Bakugou's signature attack pose. "I am the greatest hero in the world!" Bakugou chuckled and scooped her up in his arms, sighing as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "You are, baby. But dada? Heh, I don't know about that. Not until I beat that bastard Deku out of the list and then..." 

Curious crimson eyes looked at him expectantly, which gleamed in happiness as he said: "and then I'll be number one."

It's his purpose. He wants to be number one. He needs to be number one. It's been the one thing he's been wanting ever since he was a child. He won't let anything ever prevent him from becoming the number one hero. 

Even family.

"You don't understand, do you? It's a crazy world out there, and I have to be there to protect it! How can I be the number one hero if I've got other things that bother me?!"

"Bother you? When did we ever bother you? We never begged for your presence, we never begged for you to give us anything!" Your voice rises, feet taking small steps towards him as you look up at his angry face. He pauses, his jaw clenches and his eyes tightly shut as he says as calmly as possible, "The world had me first. They're my greater responsibility."

You burst. Inside, you feel the tiny firecrackers one by one explode and fill you with hot, burning rage. It burns, and it tingles in all your limbs. It too much, so you slap him across the face and tell him, "Clearly, your ego is greater than all of this." 

You take a step back, turning around just in time to see your toddler in her doorway with her dad’s plushie in her arms. You rush to her, quickly pulling her into a hug as you whisper, "I'm sorry, Mizuki. We're gonna have to leave dada and go to your gramma's house. I'm gonna take care of you, I promise. I promise that..."

"that I'll be your number one hero."