I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS PAIN

Growl

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐃

DAY 16: PILLOW HUMPING + PHONE SEX

With: Tamaki Amajiki

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Sub! Top! Tamaki, bottom! gn! reader, praise kink, slight breeding kink, reader is a slight tease and tamaki is trying not to pass out from embaressment, fantasies, creampie in fantasy Y/N? does that need a tag?

A/N: another fic i STRUGGLED with. idk whyyyy.

Tamaki knows he shouldn't be doing this. He knows that if anyone ever saw him, he would be deemed a weirdo, a pervert, really. But it was just so hard. 

It's not fair that you left him alone. Its not fair that you made him miss you until his heart ached. It's not fair that you havent touched him in longer than three weeks. Its not fair that he is here, straddling a pillow, while you probably aren't even thinking of him at all.

The whole thing makes him fume red. Humping a pillow was as desperate as it gets. His hand wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needs to move his hips, pretend he is fucking something. It was bound to give him more satisfaction. Or he hoped it did, but it doesnt change the fact that it was embarrassing.

The pillow was soft, but sturdy, and held a bit of stability. It wouldn't crumble against the sheets with each thrust, nor be too feathery to really feel anything. A good pillow – it will work fine.

He wears one of your shirts. An oversized one, that seems to drown him with the fabric. It smelled like you, and he has to refrain from pressing the collar of it against his nose. It would only turn him on more, and thats not what he needed right now.

Tamaki's hands tremble as he adjusts himself. He flips the hem of your shirt upward to give himself a view of his thin cock. Its red, and pulsing, ready for him to begin moving. He brings his hands up to his face, covering it with the back of his palm. “So embarrassing,” He whines into the empty room, but not moving from his position on top of the pillow.

He stables himself, and then very hesitantly drags his hips forward. The bottom of his dick grazes against the pillow and he takes a deep breath. Its soft, slightly cold from the lack of human contact with it, but he doesnt mind warming it up. He grinds himself forward again, his two hands gripping at the front of the pillow to slightly pull it up, giving him more area to brush himself on.

He whimpers, closing his eyes and falling into a steady pace. It's not as pleasurable as he wanted it to be, and it was driving him insane. But he liked the feeling of riding something, and he pretended the pillow was you. The thought spurs him on, and his pace begins to pick up. The movements of his hips are short, quick, and he slightly bounces on it. Tamakis breath becomes short, and he sighs into the open air, throwing his head back and humping whatever surface of the soft fabric he could. 

A couple minutes go by and he was on the verge of crying from frustration. It barely made him feel any better, and he was going to have to be here for awhile if he wanted to cum. He grabs onto your shirt and brings it up to his nose, inhaling your scent and groaning into the fabric. It made him feel a bit better.

Suddenly, he hears the familiar vibrations from his phone. He was getting a call, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone. But, he wasn't one to ignore something that could be important. So, he leans forward and flips over the phone. When he sees your name with an abundance of heart emojis that you typed in for your own contant info, his eyes light up.

He inches toward the answer button, but pauses for a second, realizing the position he is in. It was definitely not appropriate to talk to you like this, but he wanted desperately to hear your voice. It was gross and pathetic, but didnt you say you like when he acts pathetic? Besides, you could definitely fix his problem. You know exactly what to do to make him feel good.

So he answers the phone, and waits for you to speak. 

“Hey love,” You hum through his phone, and he almost whines out from that alone. He glances back down at his cock, a glob of precum dripping down pathetically onto the pillow. He covers his face in embarrassment.

“Hi Y/N,” He mumbles into the mic, staring at his fingers, and doing anything he can to ignore his cock. He wants to ask you for help, but how? Even after all this time of being together, he has never voiced his sexual wants and needs. It was just too hard to, and besides you always seemed to find out his desires one way or another.

“Whatcha up to?”

Tamaki pauses. Lying was definitely not one of his specialties, and to you? He was a goner for sure. He goes silent for longer than 30 seconds. “Tamaki?”

“Something I shouldn't be doing,” He whispers, falling forward to rest his cheek on the mattress. He still lays straddling the pillow, but now his cock was trapped between his stomach, and the pillow. 

A slight giggle comes from the phone, and he gulps, ignoring the way his dick twitches. “Are you doing something naughty?”

Naughty. Such a childish word, but it was the perfect adjective to describe his situation. It made him feel small, and strangely it brought comfort to him. He nods into the mattress, his hips moving without his permission, and continuing their grinding movements.

“You've gotta speak up for me, love.”

He may be shy, but he would never dare to not listen to a command. “Yes. Sorry.” 

“Yes what?”

He lets out a small whimper, barely audible over the phone. “‘m doing something…naughty.”

The dark haired boy squirms on the bed, listening to the way you inhale sharply. His hands begin to travel downward, but he stops himself before he could start stroking himself off. “What are you doing, love?”

He goes silent for a couple seconds, and he continues to shift around the bed. He gulps and looks down at his leaking cock, and then away. “I’m….I’m humping a…pillow?”

You let out a dramatic, slightly teasing gasp. “So dirty, Tamaki!”

He wants to curl up into a ball and die from embarrassment. He knows you are just poking fun at him, but truly everything about this was so humiliating. “I-I know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just miss you so much!” He warbles into the mic, wiping away a stray tear before it could fall.

He was so unbelievably cute, and his plea made your heart throb. “S’alright, relax, love. I miss you so much. So so much,” You reassure, closing your eyes to listen to his breathing. ‘

You hear a sniffle on the other end of the phone. “Why are you crying?”

You expected to hear a response declaring how much he missed seeing you, or having you around. Or maybe how lonely he felt. What you didn't expect was for him to say, “‘m not crying! Im frustrated because I cant cum!”

Tamaki being blunt about his needs was unheard of, and the shock of it made you bark a laugh. He shakes his head into the mattress, but begins his humping again. You already knew at this point what he was doing, and he was already as embarrassed as it gets, so he rather search for more pleasure than wither is his own misery. 

“Well are you doing it right?”

He pauses his movements. Was there a right or wrong way to do it? His horny brain was screaming at him to just get any sort of friction from the white item, but was there a better way to do it? To feel more pleasurable? “I-I dont know…”

“Aren't you pretending that I'm the pillow?” Your words make him yelp, and you hold back a snicker. You were right of course, but the fact that you knew about it made him want to dig himself a hole to hide in.

But nevertheless, his hips havent stopped their movements. Its a slow pace, just enough to make his breaths heavier. “Yeah,” He breathes into the mic, so quite that you almost missed it.

You hum to yourself, hand traveling over your own body to get yourself in the mood. “Then you need a hole to fuck, dont you, pretty boy?”

The statement causes him to lose his breath and he can't think quick enough to find a response. You continue on, “Put two pillows together so that you can get friction on both sides of your pretty little cock. It will feel so much better,” You encourage, and his eyes instantly travel to the extra pillow just inches away from him. He gulps, but grabs onto it, and places it under his lower stomach and on top of his dick.

“N-Now what?”

“It's not rocket science, silly. Fuck it now. But make sure to keep the pillow beneath your stomach, so that the hole is tighter.”

He blushes at his stupid words, but instead focuses on your advice. He pulls out, and then pushes himself back into the two soft cushions. He groans out, and sets the phone on speaker and places it next to his face. This was way better, and he needed to focus.

You hear his breaths get quicker and you smile. “There ya are. Does it feel better, Tamaki?”

He uses his hands to push the pillows together, creating a even smaller hole. But he nods at your words, staring at your profile picture with tears in his eyes. “W-Wish it was you. Not as tight…Warm.”

You hands travel toward your pants at the words. “Yeah? Use your imagination, love. Pretend that's me, what do you want to do with me?”

His whole body caves over on himself, and he bucks his hips frantically. His face is a bright shade of pink, and he wears a wobbly, but content smile. “Wanna—Wanna….You to tell me what to do,” He whines out, fingers dragging along the beds sheets, wishing it was your back.

You snicker at him, not surprised by his words. “You are hopeless, Tamaki. So submissive, its so cute, you know that? You know how cute you are?”

He covers his face with his arm, moaning and whining into the soft skin. “Stop it…” He mumbles half heartedly, loving every drop of praise from your mouth.

“You love it,” You tease, and he secretly nods into the bedsheets, but not daring to tell you. “Alright, let's have you cum, hmm? Can you close your eyes for me?”

His eyes flutter shut before you could even finish your sentence. “‘kay.” 

“Good job,” You murmur, and he gulps, nuzzling his face into the bed, pretending it’s your chest. “Now move your hips for me. In and out, yeah?.”

He doesn’t have to do much, considering that he has been doing this exact same movement for the past couple minutes now. He doesn’t say anything, afraid you may poke fun at him again. “Tamakiiiii,” You purr, “I need to hear a response.”

“Sorry. Yes, yes, I‘m doing it. Promise!” He splutters, trying to maintain a steady pace of breathing. It was feeling so much better with both sides hugging him, but your voice was definitely helping as well.

You let out a breath, and smile. “Good boy. Now, tell me, what are you imagining. Wanna hear the specifics, love.”

He whines at this. He didnt want to expose his thoughts; you would definitely think he was weird. A pervert who cant go a couple weeks without cumming. “Nooooo,” He whimpers, eyes still shut. “So embarrassing.”

Your voice turns commanding in an instant. “Oh? Stop moving then.”

Unwillingly he listens, his body so used to listening to your commands, that he doesn't even process what you said until he stopped his hips. He groans into the sheets, and feels his cock twitch within the pillows. It doesn't want to stop. “Noooo,” He complains once more, hating the way tears begin to build up, and threaten to spill over his closed eyes.

Your heart throbs at the small whimpers he lets out, and your strict tone seems to melt away. “You have to listen if you want to cum, baby. I know its embarrassing, but I want you to feel good. Dont be shy, I won't judge you.”

You hear a sniffle from the other end of the phone. “Okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. C-Can I move now? I'll tell you my…my fantasy.” 

You hum encouragingly at him, and he takes it as a yes, slowly beginning to move his hips again. He sighs at the softness, nodding his head to himself. But, he doesn't get too lost in his pleasure, he has to hold up the end of the bargain. “I-Im pretended the pillow is you.”

You roll your eyes slightly, a grin on your face. He was obviously nervous if he was stating the obvious. “Yeah? Are you fucking me nice and hard?”

Your words are so lewd and he fumes red at them. “U-Um…Yeah. Y-You feel so good.” Referring to the makeshift hole as you, makes him feel slightly bad. He knows you are may more than that to him. But it was obvious that you were trying to initiate some sort of phone sex, and he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Your fingers travel down to your pants, and you finally get comfortable. You begin to touch yourself, trying to imagine yourself into his fantasy. “So deep Tamaki,” You purr, sighing into the mic.

His eyes widen for a split second, but he quickly shuts them again. At your words, he finds himself thrusting himself deeper into the hole, mewling out as pre covers the soft fabric. He finds himself imagining you beneath him, grinning up at him with a flushed out, but cocky grin. 

“Fuck,” He whispers gently to the image of you. “I missed you so much. So so much.”

“Missed you too,” You murmur, throwing your head back slightly. “Doing so well for me.”

His hips stutters at the praise, and he gulps. Whenever you praise him, it sends his head spinning, and he loves it more than anything. “F-For you. Only for you!”

The position he was in was so lewd. His mouth slightly gnawing on his hand, his hips thrusting into two pillows, and his body a bright shade of pink. The bed was even creaking from his intense movements, but he didnt seem to care. “P-Praise me…More, please?”

“You're doing so good. Making me feel so good, Tamaki. Are you going to make me cum?”

He nods his head frantically, loving the idea more than anything. To make himself cum was one thing, but making you feel good enough to cum was a whole other thing. It made the service sub in him preen, and his thrusts are more desperate now. He imagines you shivering, and moaning into his neck, maybe even leaving scratch marks down his back. “Yes. Yes, I'll make you cum. I'll make you feel so good, please!”

You smile lazily at the wall. “Such a good boy. I'm so lucky to have such a pretty and obedient boyfriend.”

A wobbly smile is tugging at his face, and he feels like a schoolgirl. Giddy, and nervous around you and your voice. He swears the fantasy becomes more surreal. The pillow seems to be hugging him just how you would, and in the back of his mind he can hear the slapping of skin upon skin. “I love you. I love you so much, you feel so good. I can't hold it much longer!”

“Aw are you going to cum already?” You tease, feeling your own high approaching rapidly.

At the words he lets out a dramatic whine, feeling guilty. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Y-You just…oh god. Feel so good!” He warbles, shaking hands gripping onto the phone. He spreads his legs out wider, finding a new position to thrust his hips. His hair begins to stick to his head, and with every breath, a moan slips past his lips.

You are on the same page, hands moving quicker to hopefully match his high. “Its alright. Im going to cum to. Are you going to cum inside me? Wanna fill me up?”

He heaves at your words, hearts in his eyes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. He did desperately. It was way better than pulling out, or cumming into the condom. “Please! Please!”

His moans are high in pitch now, and his pace is sporatic. They are frantic though, and the entire bed shakes with his fierce movements. 

“Good boy. Cum inside me then,” You purr directly into the mic, and his eyes fly open when he cums. He lets out a high pitched scream, and bites his hand to try and stay quite. The boys hips ram into the pillow, and his thoughts are cloudy, thinking about how deep he must be cumming in you. His whole body is shivering in pleasure, and he wears a small smile.

You cum a moment later, shaking and sighing, but not making as much noise as your beloved. You didnt mind, his high pitched moans and screams were cute, you just wished he got over that stupid need to bite his hand whenever he cums. It muffles them way too much for your liking.

Post nut clarity hits Tamaki like a truck and his face turns a bright shade of red. Asking you to praise him, and even begging to cum “inside” you? Humiliating.

“I know what you are thinking, love. Dont be embarrassed. It was fun. Good. What lovers do,” You reassure, knowing his anxiety gets the better of him. 

He takes comfort in your words immediately, slightly nodding to himself and trying to think of something else to hopefully die down the embaressment. He feels exhausted, and instead focuses on that. He pulls out of the pillows with a sigh and brings the phone to his face to begin wishing you goodnight.

His eyes widen when he realizes something, and he lets out a dramatic gasp.

The sound makes you perk up, and you are on immediate alert. “Whats wrong?”

“Oh no. This is bad. What do I do now?” He begins to mumble, eyes scanning across the bed.

“What? What happened?” You question more frantically now, pulling the phone closer to your ear.

It goes silent on the other end for about thirty seconds. He pulls away the two pillows and gulps as his stares at his own product. This was bad. Truly a problem.

“What am I supposed to sleep on tonight?”

It takes everything in you to not hang up on him.

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Uh *Mind Loading* Did I just fall in love with a s/o? I think I did 🥺🖤

Bruh, I hate myself at this point, but, what about a pro hero Bakugou with a Morticia Reader?

Like, imagine Bakugou pining after you... you're elegant, well spoken, poised, femininity oozing from every pore, with a hint of aloofness to you and never afraid to state your mind. Your words can creep out the creeper, can cut deeper than a knife could ever do, yet you never lose that elegance to you, and he is just so whipped for anything that means you and your obsessive love for dark stuff and that witchy aesthetic.

He tries to court you, instead of giving you normal flowers, he gives you dead ones, for which he had waited days to dry, careful to maintain the beauty of them. Despite being dry, the flowers look as beautiful as ever. When he brings them to you the first time, Mina beats his ears off, saying how that it's not how you court a lady, Kaminari and Sero too pointing out just how wrong it is. Kirishima sais nothing, but Bakugou can understand that he too seems thrown off.

Yet, all of his friends are proven wrong once you make an appeareance, hair straightened out, wearing a deep black dress that reaches the floor, with a generous slit on the skirt, where your pretty legs tease his eyes whenever you walk. He loves that red lipstick you wear. He hands you the dried flowers, which you soon take, all the while offering him a sweet smile.

"You- you like them? They're dead!" Mina asks, eyes bulging out of their sockets whilst jaw threatened to fall to the ground. You turn to look at her.

"Death is just a passage. Look at them, dear, their beauty is being preserved, death did nothing but accentuate their beauty"

Saying that the bakusquad is flabbergasted is an understatement. Meanwhile, Bakugou's ears are flaring up, proud smirk adorning his lips at his gift being appreciated.

He likes how you light up when he screams to kill/murder someone, even if he doesn't mean it totally, but seeing you all excited, giving him that lovely expression where he could almost see hearts in your eyes whenever he's go bathing crazy when fighting villains, makes him all hot and bothered.

Whenever asked about his loud, obnoxious personality, and how you can deal with him, people get spooked out when you turn out to be way more sadic than him.

If one day Bakugou is calm, his friends are cheering, enjoying his quietness. However, they turn to look at you when you question him, eyes as wide as plates upon hearing the conversation.

"My love, did something happen? Would you like to talk about it?"

" 'S nothing, just tired" he leans on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck, and as much as you enjoy the physical contact you can't not frown.

"You're awfully tamed... are you sure everything is alright?"

Kaminari calls your name, "Don't you find it better when he's quiet? I mean, at least now he's not screaming like a mad man, and our ears can finally take a break"

You sigh, almost pouting "He's depriving me of the man I've fallen in love with."

Kaminari makes a snarky remark, Sero following soon, and it rubs Bakugou the wrong way. The dormant flame of anger inside the blond is reignited, and soon he's screaming bloody murder whilst chasing his friends, his trademark "Die!" and "Go to hell!" Filling the once quiet room. You smile, concern replaced by pure, raw, unfiltered love for him.

Bakugou adores just how unafraid you are to be public with the relationship, he loves how easily you get lost into him, forgetting about the surrounding world, him being the center of your everything. If it weren't for his and your friends, the world would've seen you in compromising positions on too many occasions.

You could be having tea at a cafe, savouring the hot beverages, and if Bakugou kisses your knuckles, no one can stop him from trailing kisses up the length of your arm. Once he reaches your lips, it's too late to stop.

Instead of normal gifts, he brings you weapons. He has brought you so many that now they have a room only dedicated to them. For what exactly you needed an electric chair, was s mystery to Kirishima, but he's wise enough to not question it.

You're not a pro hero, although you do have a licence since you graduated a hero high, but decided to instead focus on the short life humans are granted, trying to live however you pleased. But, if Bakugou is ever in danger, whether it's a villain threatening his live or a woman overly obsessing over him, you're there, ready to get rid of the problem. You would have liked to use the torture chamber more, but your dear soon-to-be husband always manages to stop you before things can escalate.

Just like you are ready to risk it all for him, he too is ready to do anything in his power and beyond to keep you safe. Although, he has to admit, sometimes he feels bad for those who think that they have an advantage over you.

If a villain ever tries to get to you in order to bring down the pro hero, Bakugou can't help but slightly pity them. You're scary when threatened, and he wouldn't wish for anyone to suffer your wrath. You have a play room, that's the nickname you gave the torture chamber, and the prospect of utilizing it bring you immense joy.

Imagine his surprise when he returns home, only to find a villain he's been tracking down for months, kneeling in front of him, balling his eyes out and snot running down their nose, bleeding from the many wounds they have, begging for Dynamight to just hand them to the police.

"Oh!" You interject, comin out of the play room. "You're home early! Are you hungry my love? I made some spicy hot wings, they should still be warm"

"NO! Please, please, I accept anything! Tartarus is good! Heaven! Please Dynamight I-"

"You know you don't have to cook if you don't feel like it" he grumbles, cheeks dusting with redness as soon as you close the distance.

"I know love, but I thought you might enjoy it"

"You're just bribing me to let you keep the new toy for one more hour"

"So perceptive my husband" you clap once, leaning again toward him to kiss his chin. Bakugou softens. "Is it working? Can I?"

He looks at your pretty eyes, round and big, and full of adoration. Fuck him, he's totally, undeniably, irrevocably in love with you and your weird ass.

"Yeah, but once I'm done eating I'm taking this shit stain to the police"

.

.

I personally love this sadistic s/o....

Say no more 🫡

Lessons in Serving your King

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

-> Masterlist

MY HEART. OMG. 🥺❤️❤️❤️ HE DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD

atmospheric | act i: cumulus

a @mybigbangacademia collab with @54prowl

rating: explicit (for future themes)

word count: 9.4k

tags: katsuki’s sailor tongue, staged (and non-staged) meet cutes, mentions of grief

a/n: oh my lord, i thought this would never come to fruition! i wanna thank @kweenkatsuki @kingkatsuki @karikarasuno and especially @54prowl for keeping me sane throughout this! thank you for reading my stuff and screaming about it and helping me through writers block and just being there for me when i was at my most anxious. i adore you all so so much!

“Hell fucking no.” Katsuki laughs. Laughs at the gall, at the sheer audacity. “I don’t need this. Why the fuck would I need this?”

His publicist shares a look with the rep from The Hero Commission. “Bakugo,” she takes a breath, clenches her jaw a little. He’s known Kira for a long time, knows she honestly tries to do what’s best for him, what he needs. “You could be number one.” She states confidently. “And I’m gonna be candid here, because we’re not strangers; I’ve been with you for six long years,” she doesn’t break eye contact with him, if anything she leans into him more. “I’m frustrated. It’s goddamn frustrating watching you sit at six. Six? You’re Dynamight.”

“That’s right!” The rep all but throws his hands up in the air. “Dynamight! You always catch the bad guy! Your merch is one of our best selling lines, you always file your work correctly— and on time!” He stresses, blue eyes as big and bright as All Might’s were. “Your issue is popularity, the polls; you don’t take fan pics, you don’t sign merch—“

“That’s not the point of bein’ a fucking hero—“

“We don’t want you to change, Bakugo, that’s the whole point of this. You don’t have to become a whole different person; in fact, we don’t really expect you to do much, especially during the first few months of the project.” The Project. He wants to snort, to cross his arms and lean back in his chair, show his disinterest; but, shit, he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t admit sitting at six didn’t drive him up the wall.

“It’ll just start with a chance meeting here, another there, just so social media can get wind of it, and rumours can spread.” Kira relaxes a little, frown lines evening out as she takes in Anderson’s excited vibes. Katsuki huffs a little, meets her eyes. “We’ve had a team working on your story for a while.”

“Story…” he tests the word in his mouth as his brows draw together. “So there’s a script?”

“We have a timeline and set meetings,” Anderson smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Some social media stories we’ll need you to post, more she has to post; but as far as a script goes… it’s more of the direction we need you to go in.”

Katsuki sighs, grabs the surprisingly heavy booklet they presented to him earlier in the meeting. GOLDFISH takes up most of the cover page in giant letters, a corny TOP SECRET stamped in red takes up the rest of it; fucking stupid, dramatic, pretentious Hero Commission shit. He flips through the pages, glosses over the words until he gets to a sub heading titled Chance Meeting One.

They’re lucky he doesn’t peg the fucking book at Anderson.

Subject A bumps into Subject B on the red carpet. Subject B stumbles, Subject A steadies them, asks if they are okay. The two share a look, then get back to business. Paparazzi in the vicinity—

“So, if I’m subject A, who’s the mysterious Subject B?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm as he tosses the book back onto the table. He’s mildly surprised— concerned, even?— when neither of them jump to tell him.

“We can’t… tell you… until you sign the contract.” Kira says quietly, the nerves he’s so accustomed to seeing, creeping back onto her face.

His scowl must deepen astronomically, because she turns to Anderson with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re not the only hero suffering in the popularity polls.” Anderson shrugs, gesturing with his hands. “Kira’s just been meticulous about you getting the boost. In reality, this would be a good deal for all of the top 10 heroes.”

Katsuki feels his eye twitch.

“Shouto, for example, isn’t that great with social cues, tends to shy away from media; he’s already at three, we could get him higher.” Anderson is 100% goading him, and Katsuki knows it, but it’s working.

“Is she a hero?”

“No,” his agent says confidently. “She’s not in the business, not a part of the commission either.”

“She’s well-loved, fawned over. Attractive.” Anderson turns to Kira. “Would you say so?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. We’d never set you up for failure, Bakugo, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” he huffs, slightly agitated. “I just don’t wanna drop in the polls.” He grumbles, glare set on Anderson. “Do they know it’s me?”

“Nope, she just knows you’re a hero.” He answers with a toothy smile.

Katsuki presses on. “Does she know I’m in top 10?”

“Her contract states it’ll be a hero in the top 50.” He shoots back, unblinking.

“Just say yes Bakugo, I promise it’ll be worth it.” Kira interjects, eyes hopeful. “And hey, you might actually really like her.”

Katsuki’s snort of laughter is loud. “Doubt it.” He grabs the book and flicks through the pages again, what’s the harm in taking it home and having a read? “Do I have to decide now?”

“Yes.” They answer together, Anderson steadfast and Kira flat.

“Really?”

“No time like the present.” The rep shrugs, the Cheshire grin on his face only growing with Katsuki’s frustration.

“You’re a real fucking ass you know that?” The hero grumbles, throwing his glare over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the view of the setting sun from their vantage point on the 47th floor of the Hero Commission.

“The sooner you sign, the sooner we get the ball rolling.” Anderson drums the table like a fucking salesman.

And Katsuki signs the contract.

—

Katsuki still lives in the same apartment he bought when he was a rookie. Granted, back then this place was far too good for him, with its timber floorboards, prime location, and it’s five burner stainless steel natural gas cooktop. The previous owner was selling to move abroad; a retired chef who allowed Katsuki a walkthrough of the place as a ‘favour’ to one of Aizawa’s friends.

She—the chef— must’ve seen something in Katsuki when his eyes roamed the sparkling appliances, the range hood, the dishwasher, the fridge, because she accepted his offer, and he’d moved in the next week. It wasn’t until Eijirou had mentioned a couple months into living there, that his bathroom tiles were pink, that Katsuki had even noticed; that’s just how smitten he was with that fucking kitchen.

Now, years later, he feels shitty looking at his commercial grade kitchen.

When was the last time he cooked? Shit, the only time he even uses his kitchen is when he makes himself an instant coffee before work, or reheats takeout from the night before. He’s so busy at TDA, so busy bagging baddies and fighting crime and filing fucking paperwork that he’s gotta eat and run, with the shitty haired idiot eating into his days off with god damned babysitting duties at his place.

Katsuki sinks into the worn leather of his camel coloured couch, A4 envelope in his hand. He should open it, should find out who exactly this mystery girl is, should prepare. Instead, he sighs, tosses the crisp wad of paper onto the seat next to him, runs a hand down his face.

If even one person finds out he’s doing this, he’s over.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands drawing down his face, crimson staring into the white of his ceiling, the elaborate cornices joining the muted grey of his walls. Bare walls.

The chef had paintings on the walls, heavy velvet curtains over the windows, colourful rugs, buffets covered in photos, house plants, and so much furniture. But Katsuki— young and pretentious— didn’t get that. He liked how huge the apartment seemed without it all, how high the ceilings felt, how large the rooms were.

Now, as much as he’s loathe to admit it, it feels kinda lonely.

But, he’ll do what he usually does when that nagging emptiness nips at his ankles, when he’s alone and actually feeling it: he’ll head to TDA. He’ll get to work, ignore Deku and that half and half bastard when they tell him they’ve got everything covered, ignore sparky when he teases him about not having a life, ignore pink cheeks when she reminds him for the millionth time he’s not getting paid overtime.

With a heaved sigh, he sits forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. That envelope glares at him from the other side of the two seater lounge, sitting there as if it’s some kind of placeholder, as if the girl herself is going to materialise next to him if he dares to open it.

He doesn’t open it.

—

TDA—The Deku Agency (yeah, stupid fucking name)— is lively in the afternoons. Heroes and rookies mingle with civvies in the foyer, sitting at cozy little tables and ordering overpriced drinks and cakes from the café Deku had installed in the far corner of the lobby in a bid to improve relations between them. The Commission loved it.

Katsuki uses the back door.

He takes the maintenance elevator up to the office floor and wordlessly finds his desk, revels in the pssssssht as he sinks into the bright orange, high-backed ergolux. It’s comfy for an office chair, just the right amount of worn in, without the irritation of squeaky screws his old chair had.

“Don’t you have today off?” Icyhot’s glare is blank, cold soba (probably) noodles suspended between the chopsticks held at lip level.

“None’a your business, half ‘n’ half.” Katsuki glares back heatedly, spinning in his chair to face his monitor. It, too, is… orange. Just like Deku’s is broccoli green, and round cheeks’ is pink, and fucking half ‘n’ half’s is… half red, half icy blue. According to Deku, some computer company brought out a whole range of hero inspired computers in a collab with the Commission and he just had to get one for everyone; with matching chairs.

The colours throw off the serenity the floor could have, with its glossy white floors, floor to ceiling windows, the greenery delicately placed around the space. But, that’s Deku and Pink Cheeks to a tee, and the icyhot asshole just goes along with whatever half-baked plan the two of them conspire.

“Was it expensive?” Todoroki presses, those eyes still staring holes into Katsuki.

“Haah?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he’s tense as it is, so that red glare of his is burning through Shouto in an instant.

“The fine? Property damage, Uraraka thinks, but my money’s on defamation?” He says it with such disinterest, that it almost takes Katsuki off guard.

“It was a meeting, dipshit; about my career. I don’t have any outstanding fines.” He almost snarls, irritation a growling monster in his gut. “Asshole.” He adds, filing away Ochako’s involvement in the back of his mind. He’ll call her out for it later; she’s always the one putting ridiculous ideas in that two-toned space cadet’s head.

“Ah, sorry.” He hears him mumble back, followed by a loud slurp that makes Katsuki’s left eye twitch.

“You should be.” The blonde huffs, irritation mounting at the lack of sincerity in his voice. “Who the hell did you think was suing me?”

“Hm? Didn’t you badmouth Grand on Twitter last week?”

Katsuki actually laughs. “If that asshole wants to go to battle, he’ll need to be ready for fucking war.”

“What was the meeting about, then? Your public image? Are they mad at you?”

Yes and no.

“You’re awfully chatty today.”

“Well, I’m having a meeting next week,” Shouto admits, piquing Katsuki’s interest; he swivels in his chair, watches his friend as he plays with his noodles absentmindedly. “Just… Don’t know what to expect.”

“Oh.” Is all Katsuki can really say. He vaguely remembers Shouto mentioning something about almost slipping in the polls, and although he’s higher than Katsuki, he bets his own agent’s been getting a beat down from the Commission. While they don’t really care who sits at number one, they do care when merch sales drop and social media interaction is low.

“I just hate… all of that extra stuff. All of the unnecessary competition that comes along with this job. Reminds me of… Father.” As if sensing he’s stepped a foot wrong (for once in his life), Shouto mumbles a sorry and turns back towards his computer screen.

Normally, a mention of Shouto’s father leaves a bittersweet taste in Katsuki’s mouth, has him turning cheek to cheer his friend up in his own asshole-y way… but guilt nips at his heels. Guilt that his contract might actually have him surpassing Shouto with a leg-up Katsuki doesn’t technically need. Katsuki isn’t Shouto; he’s a prick on purpose, not out of childhood trauma-induced ignorance. Katsuki knows that the things he says and his shitty actions have god damned consequences.

Todoroki’s just a little weird.

Fuck, another reason to feel shitty about signing that fucking contract.

After a few moments, Shouto’s slurping starts again, giving Katsuki the green light to get his head out of his ass. He turns back to his own computer, taps the space bar a few times to wake it up, and logs into the portal.

Time to catch up on some incident reports.

—

The Kirishima Household is lovely. Pro Hero Red Riot bought a place out in the ‘burbs when he got married, a semi-renovated two-storey place with a yard. It’s hard to find a place with a yard so close to the city, especially on rookie hero wages. The place has three bedrooms upstairs, with the living and dining, kitchen, and bath and toilet downstairs; Eijirou’s been trying to convince Katsuki to claim the third bedroom as his, even bought him an alarm clock and an All Might sheet set for the bed, but Katsuki chronically takes the couch.

When he comes over the night before the Gala to watch Akari, the father-daughter duo are playing MarioKart. Katsuki shakes his head at them— concealing his grin— and takes his groceries to the kitchen, set on making dinner for the two of them before Ei has to head off to work.

He must be thinking too hard, the anxiety of the Gala etched on his face, because Eijirou is hovering.

The red head’s also giving him the look.

Between serving his little girl dinner— which Katsuki assured him, he could do— getting his shit together for his shift, and making small talk with Katsuki, he keeps staring. It’s the goading look; the one that says: hey man, I know something’s wrong, but you’re just gonna say nothin’ if I ask, so I’m gonna need you to tell me.

Katsuki’s not gonna tell him.

He can’t.

What, just come out with a: yeah, I actually accepted an offer from the Commission to fake date someone in order for my public perception to improve, so I’ll climb the popularity polls. No chance in hell; not even if the place froze over.

Sure, if anyone were to understand, it’d probably be Eijirou. Either him, Deku, or Shouto, but… he just can’t. Especially with Red Riot sitting at number 8.

Katsuki has to usher him out the door at 6pm, has to pretend he’s fine, and that nothing’s bothering him; he even tries to give Ei a reassuring smile as he hops on his motorbike, but thinking back on that moment, it probably only worsens his perception of Katsuki. Since when does he smile and wave him off to work?

Shit.

He settles onto the sofa next to Ei’s mini me after tidying the kitchen and tossing a load of laundry in the wash. A replay of the morning news should relax him a little, should take his mind off this stupid Gala, the stupid red carpet, the stupid fucking contractual dating.

The news anchors are achingly boring, droning on about the finance sector, the stock market; Deku’s into all that shit, pulled Katsuki into investing almost a decade ago. The idiot even told Katsuki not to waste his first hero pay check on stupid stuff… then went ahead and bought some 160,000Y All Might figure that looked achingly out of place on his coffee table in his tiny loft studio apartment.

Then he’s on the news, a flash of blonde and green and orange flying through the sky. He’d apprehended a villain last night, and the news loves reporting on all of the property damage that usually comes along with Katsuki’s quirk; he’s gotten so good at holding back, but since signing the contract, he knows he’s been acting a little more recklessly. And of course, snakey fucking journalists have to jump on that. Reminds him how much he fucking hates the news.

At least the weather girl’s cute.

“Uncle Kats? You okay?” Akari blinks, looking up from her iPad. She’s the spit out of her father’s mouth with those big red eyes and inky black hair, not to mention how much she loves Katsuki. Must run in the Kirishima genes.

“Why d’ya ask, kiddo?”

“I knew it,” she sighs, pulling her feet underneath her as she locks her iPad. “Dad’s got another girlfriend, doesn’t he? You always get weird like this when he’s seeing someone.”

Katsuki snorts laughter. “Always? Your dad has dated two people since you’ve been alive.”

“You’re acting weird!” She argues, arms gesturing wildly.

“You’re ten, you have no idea what weird even is.” He brushes her off, hoping to relive her of her street, but unable to do it nicely. He doesn’t really do nice.

“Dad was staring at you funny, and you were being weird.” She scrunches her little nose up at him, and Katsuki knows he’s not getting out of this conversation without putting a little bit of work in.

“Your dad stares at me funny all the time, squirt; you should’ve seen him when we were in high school.”

“He looked worried.” Akari frowns, because it is strange when Ei’s not being carefree.

Still, he’s gonna pretend he didn’t notice. “Did he?”

“Yeah and you did too!” She accuses, voice rising, annoyed. “Like, right up until now”

“So, because we both look worried, your dad’s dating again.” Its not a question, it’s her conclusion.

“Yeah, because he’s worried you’ll tell me, and you’re worried you have to keep it a secret. You don’t, by the way, I’m double digits now, so you can trust me with your secrets, I promise, Uncle Kats.” She bats those lashes at him, eyes shining with what he can only call mirth. The one thing she seemed to pick up from Katsuki after all these years babysitting.

He sighs, midway between impressed at her reasoning skills, and bummed that he can’t give her the answers she’s looking for. Still, he lets out a low whistle. “Double digits, huh? Sounds like you’re too old to hang out with Uncle Kats at the parlour.”

Seems like redirection still works for pre-teens, because her ruby reds light up like it’s Christmas. “You said you’re too famous to go out in public!”

“Are you arguing with ice cream, squirt?” He fakes a glower, sends her a little glare that can only be taken as playful.

“No way!” She bounces from the couch and practically runs to the landing. “I’m just gonna put my coat and shoes on!” She calls, talking way too fast. But then her little face pokes back around the corner, brows furrowed. “No take-backs.” She glares, wary.

He sighs, rubs a huge scarred hand over his too tired face. “No take backs.” He shrugs, shaking his head.

Akari seems content to leave his sight after that, her fast footfalls trekking up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming open. Meanwhile, he sinks a little into the sofa, annoyed with himself; mostly for acting so obviously emotional in front of a child, but also for promising her ice cream.

Looks like a beanie, face mask, and sunglasses type of night.

—

Eijirou rolls up the driveway a long thirteen hours after he left.

Katsuki’s made Eijirou a decaf tea— he’s gotta sleep today, and all that— and he’s stirring his coffee with a teaspoon as he leans against the countertop in the kitchen, eyes on the front door in anticipation. He needs to talk to him, needs to reassure his best friend that he’s okay, that there’s not really anything wrong.

Tell him what’s going on without explicitly telling him what’s going on.

“Daddy’s home!” He calls, bursting into the house with far too much energy for coming off an overnight shift.

“Dude, she’s asleep.”

“What?” His face falls, eyes darting around the kitchen like Katsuki’s telling lies. “It’s seven am, she’s got school this morning.” He grows more panicked by the second. “The bus gets here at seven-fifty—“

“Eiji, c’mon, all she’s gotta do is get up, get dressed, and eat breakfast.” Katsuki grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“How are you letting her sleep in? I knew it, something’s wrong. You were acting so weird last night, but this is… this is worse.” He dumps his work bag at his feet, puts his hands on his hips and gives him those god damn puppy eyes that are generally reserved for begging Katsuki to go somewhere with him. “You’re harder on her schedule than I am, Katsuki.”

Katsuki sighs, steps over to rinse his teaspoon in the sink. “I took her out for ice cream last night, and we stayed out past her bedtime, so I told her I’d let her sleep in until seven-thirty.” He picks up Eijirou’s tea, hold it out for him to take. “I’m fine, really, it’s just a work thing.”

Eijirou accepts the mug, takes a few steps to sit at his four-seater dining table. “A work thing you can’t tell your best bud about.”

“It’s—“ Katsuki hesitates, taking his coffee with him to joint Eijirou at the table. “The Hero Gala is coming up, and Kira is making me go. You know how I hate doing publicity shit.” Not a lie. It’s true, he has to go to the pretentious fucking Hero Gala, and he hates all that stupid shit, and, yeah maybe there’s something else going on at the Gala, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he doesn’t wanna go.

Eiji’s mouth hangs open. “That’s it?”

“Hah?” Katsuki glares.

“You’re freaking out about the Gala?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, I— geez, Kats, I actually thought there was something eating at your soul. You looked like you made a deal with a crossroads demon or something.” He shakes his head of whatever thoughts he’s been having and lets out a laugh, takes a sip of his tea.

Eijirou has no idea just how on the money he actually is.

“Nah, I just don’t know what to wear, how to act. You know how I can get with camera flashes.” He sighs, remembering the last press release he went to— all of the cameras and loud noises, and… fuck, it’s uncomfortable, and reminds him of being out in battle. Maybe he actually needs to get onto someone about PTSD like shitty Deku keeps suggesting.

Eijirou lets out a breath, the weight falling off his shoulders. “Well, you’ve always looked good in red; brings out your eyes.”

Katsuki chuckles then. “You’re a biased little shit, Ei.”

“I know.”

—

The Gala is everything Katsuki expects it to be: loud, crowded, and brightly lit. Paparazzi and fans line the streets for blocks leading to the venue, and it makes his nose twitch. He’s not the best with his public image, but tonight he has to at least try. Has to put in some goddamn effort.

Not only for himself, but for TDA, for his… to be girlfriend.

God, it even sounds fucking stupid in his head.

He drove himself, the plan to pull up in the valet cue and open the envelope, prepare then. In hindsight it’s pretty last minute, but knowing a name threatened over overthinking on his part. He’s never really been known for his level head, and in that respect, he’s his worst enemy.

He’d argued with Kira a couple of days ago about a pre-meeting meeting, something to ease his anxiety, somewhere for him to meet this woman and form some kind of fool-proof game plan; but he was shot down.

What if a pap sees them entering the same building before they even meet?

That’ll ruin the meet-cute for the fans, destroy everything the commission worked hard to create. Which is fair, honestly; she’d asked him if he read the plan, reminded him that until they can’t even have phone contact until the third meet just in case anyone catches wind of anything.

Stupid Commission and their goddamn paranoia.

So as Katsuki sits in the cue, venue a beacon of light a couple a blocks away, he opens the centre console of Maserati Gran Turismo and pulls out the envelope, unrolls it and flattens it against his thighs. This is it, no time to mull over the results, because as he idles, the cue slowly rolls forward, bringing him closer to the Gala by the minute.

As calloused fingers carefully pull at the tab, his mind races. He thinks about just how long he’s waited for this moment, how on edge he’s been since he scribbled his signature at the bottom of that contract. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, he needs to do a good job with this, needs to put in the effort, needs to milk it for all its worth.

For some reason, he thinks back to Shouto sitting in his office chair, clearly worried about his own standings in the ranks, looking sorry as hell. He wonders how Shouto’d feel if Anderson were sitting across from him at the table, offering him help he doesn’t quite need, giving him an opportunity he might not be fit to take.

But, shit, that worrying? It’s so unnecessary. Icyhot might not have even wanted to sign the fucking contract. Sometimes Katsuki doesn’t give him the credit he deserves.

He tugs the paper from the envelope and scans the page.

Your name sits there in bold block letters.

But he has no idea who the fuck you are.

Kira’s got his phone and wallet in her bag so he can comfortably walk the carpet, so he can’t even Google who the hell you are. He says your name over and over in his brain, trying to light up electrodes, trying to think of anything that could bring a face to your name.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading the name again, skimming through the document. There’s nothing there about you, no occupation, no bio, no nothing. “Fuck.” He growls, glancing up to see the venue way closer than he anticipated.

It’s fine. It’s fine because no other person would even think about bumping into Dynamight, not even on accident. This woman is going to knock into him, he’s going to steady her, not glare at her, and then it’ll be over. He can do this.

It’s going to be fine.

By the time he realises he’s shaking his leg, he’s the fourth car in the cue. He remembers the wise words of wisdom Ei shot him as he left his house that morning: you’re gonna look good, bro; just don’t blow anyone up.

He checks his hair in the rear view mirror, makes sure the lapel of his deep, deep red suit jacket is laying nicely against the matte black if his dress shirt, that his black silken tie is sitting centre. He didn’t wanna wear red, but Kira agreed with Ei, insisted it brought out the ruby of his eyes, and would make it easier for the girl to spot him.

For you to spot him.

Fuck, he’s next.

When the limo in front of him drives away, he rolls up until he’s gestured to stop, puts the car in park and presses the handbrake on. At least the anxiety of meeting you and following this script is taking his mind off how much he hates red carpets.

Oh, great, he’s gonna blend into the fucking flooring.

“Dynamight, big fan,” the valet— tall, lanky, cat-like— opens his door, gestures widely for him to exit the car.

“Hey, thanks,” Katsuki nods, points to the button to the left of the steering wheel. “Handbrake’s on; don’t drop the clutch too fast or you’ll stall her.” He explains as he slides out of the seat, stands tall to meet the valet’s eyes. He’s still a couple of inches taller.

“I will be very gentle with her, I promise.” He grins, holding a ticket out for Katsuki as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, lifts his chin as if assessing the slightly shorter man.

Then— deeming his valet adequate— Katsuki takes the ticket, slides it into his pocket, and nods him a good night.

When Katsuki turns towards the golden— not red, thank god— carpet, it’s as if someone’s just unmuted the television; it’s suddenly way too loud, his name being screamed from all angles, camera flashes blinding him, people crowding him. He’s ushered to the first little black X taped to the carpet by a busy little woman in a black suit, is briefly told to pause and pose for pics, before she hurries off in a blur.

He straightens a little, softens the agitation on his face a bit, but doesn’t smile. Why the hell would he? The paps are all desperately calling a mixture of his last name and his hero name, shouting at him like he’s some kind of prized pony, and he hates it. He hates the showboating, loathes the OTT smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Kira, her dress a tight purple bodice with a midi length circle skirt; she’s got a headset on, just like the other PA’s and Gala staff, and a black satchel bag slung across her torso. She beams when their eyes meet, but gestures for him to keep posing, uses her pointer fingers to elongate the smile on her own face, then loudly mouths smile.

The audacity of her has a smirk sliding onto his face, and he glances at the paps for a bit, before heading towards her.

“You look good!” She beams, dusting absolutely nothing from his shoulders and looking up at him like a proud mama. “Are you ready?” She leans up to ask him, voice more muted than before.

“Yeah, I just—“ he glances around, leans down to her ear. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Huh? Really?” Kira’s eyes almost bug our of her head. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, I—“

“Bakugo Katsuki willingly participating in a photo op? I think my depression is cured.” Katsuki would know that low drawl anywhere, his gut instinct affirmed when he’s met with lazy lavender eyes, and a just as lazy smirk.

“Shinsou?” Katsuki’s eyes widen. Last he heard about mindfreak, he was working the underground, so seeing him here is kind of throwing him off.

“Nice threads; when did hell freeze over?” Shinsou’s purple hair is in a messy bun, showing off a faded undercut, his suit pirate-esque with a too-open white shirt, brown suspenders and matching brown slacks.

“Funny. Who are you here with?” Katsuki snips, looking around for a possible date.

“What, am I not famous enough to work the golden carpet?” He snips in return. “You caught me, I’m here with Denks.” Then he nods behind him, at Kaminari who’s looking in his element in fucking sequins.

It brings a grin to Katsuki’s face, and he holds out his hand for Shinsou to shake. “Good to see you either way.”

“Bakugo,” Kira tugs his jacket sleeve, eyes wide as she nods for him to keep moving. “We gotta get inside.”

“Oh, sorry dude; I know how this makes you antsy.” Shinsou watches him exchange a look with Kira, takes his hand and gives it a shake.

“See you in there?” Katsuki nods.

“Bet.” Shinsou grins, dropping his hand, sauntering off towards Denki.

“You don’t know who she is? So what, you’re just gonna look clunky and hyperaware of every woman coming within a foot of you on a busy red carpet?” Kira is hissing at him as she directs him towards where semi-retired Mt Lady is having an interview with a reporter. “Did you not open the envelope?”

“I did, I just don’t know who the fuck she is, sue me.” Katsuki snips at her, just as annoyed with himself as she is.

“Oh, if this gets out, you’ll be getting sued Bakugo, don’t you worry.” She shakes her head, and points to the X’s plastered in a zig-zag all the way up to the entrance of the building. “Make your way up, hit each black X. Don’t worry about the white or the red, just hit the black ones.”

“There’s like eleven of them.”

“I’ll meet you inside,” she smiles without her eyes. “Don’t overthink it, and be fucking nice.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Go.”

He heads towards the first X when Denki moves on, a pretty reporter in white standing there with a crew and a smartphone wave him over.

“Dynamight!” She tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, bounces excitedly in place on the tallest pair of stilettos Katsuki has ever seen.

For all intents and purposes, this could be her. His heart absolutely hammers in his chest and he’s not entirely sure if he’s nervous because he hates the media, or if he’s about to meet the woman he’s gotta ‘fall in love’ with.

“Good to see you, number six! How’s things?” She asks into the bottom of her phone, before holding it out to him.

“Evening,” he greets. “It’s… loud here.” He makes a point to soften his scowl, looks at all of the fans and other people on the other side of the barricade. Be fucking nice, she said. Be fucking nice.

They absolutely roar.

“I don’t think your fans are used to seeing you like this. Who dressed you tonight?” She eyes him up and down, looks like she wants to touch him, but thinks better of it.

“I dressed myself, actually.” He says with a bit of bravado, that shit eating grin splitting his face as he tucks his thumbs under the lapels of his jacket and runs them down.

She laughs, a full-bodied thing that catches Katsuki off guard, has him looking awkwardly between her and the cameraman. “No, I mean who designed what you’re wearing?”

He doesn’t know. And he can’t be rude to this girl just in case she’s her; there’s a split second of internal struggle within him before she interrupts his chain of thought.

“You don’t know, do you Dynamight?”

“Am I gonna get in trouble from my agent if I don’t?” He looks behind himself, through the crowd for the purple dress, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“No! No way! Just tweet it later!” She laughs, patting him lightly on his upper arm.

He laughs, almost bitterly. “Right, twitter, sure.” He suppresses an eye roll, lifts his hand to wave at the crowd, the camera, then her. “Enjoy your night.”

“We love you, Dynamight!” She cheers, setting the fans off again, the noise absolutely deafening him; and he’s used to loud, used to explosive. But not like this. At least when he’s detonating, he’s full of adrenaline, not fucking nerves.

The second, third, and fourth X interviews are all more of the same; more questions about his look, about how he’s unusually chatty, about how he actually showed up. It’s hard to be fucking nice, but it does take his mind off the reason he decided to show up tonight.

Until someone’s knocking into him, and he’s instinctively wrapping an arm around their waist to stop them from falling flat on their ass. There’s a collective gasp in the immediate vicinity, but all Katsuki can see is you. You in your shimmery peach gown, eyes bright and wide, face flushed and lips parted in awe.

And he recognises you immediately; sees you almost every morning when he’s got an office shift, sometimes even nights. Ochako’s a stickler for the news, watches the same channel every day like clockwork to keep an eye on the stock market when Deku can’t; and he’s always liked the addition of you, keeps an ear out for your sing-song voice under the guise of needing to know what kind of sky he’s gonna be flinging his body into if he has to fight that day.

“Weather girl?” He breathes, finally putting a face to the name.

You just kinda gawk at him, a special kind of shock that he can only describe as wonder.

“D-Dynamight? Can you help me up?” You blink, not quite knowing what to do with your hands while he has you suspended mid-fall.

As if breaking his trance, he curses a quick, “oh, shit,” before helping you back to your feet.

“Thanks,” you smile a little awkwardly. “And sorry. For, you know, knocking into you.”

“No, uh, harm done.” He mutters back, all of the bravado he’s built up over the course of the carpet walk going down the drain as he watches you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You okay?”

You process his question without breaking eye contact with him, then you nod once, real slow. “Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “Yeah, I think I am. Nice to meet you.”

He can’t help but mirror your smile. “Likewise.”

—

There’s a photo and an accompanying video going ‘viral’ when Katsuki wakes up in the morning. He knows this because not one, not two, not three, but seven different people send him links to varying posts, with people going a little nutso over his little meeting with you.

Kira’s happy too; she was all smiles for the rest of the night, texting on her phone, disappearing to relay things with Anderson before giving Katsuki his personal items back out of her satchel, and knocking off for the night. He didn’t plan to stay, but he did; had a few bourbons and hung out with Shinsou and Denki and their little gang until daybreak.

Shinsou’s sent him a few messages— he’s a double texter— and Katsuki touches base with him before delving into the world of social media, just to see how successful Meeting One was.

He’s fucking trending.

As much as he’s loathe to search his hashtag, he clicks into it; he scrolls through candid and posed photos of him in his red and black ensemble, people’s text posts commenting on how they would let him “eat them alive” among other—more intense—things, and pictures of you.

He looks at those the longest, studies the lines and curves of your face, compares how you look when you’re at ease versus when you smile brightly. You’re pretty in a… normal way. He’s kinda blown away that they didn’t pick some overly glamorous pop idol, that they found someone that’s practically his type.

Fuck, it makes him a gross type of nervous, though. The way that he’s not going to hate this makes it worse and better, and he’s conflicted because this might not be as bad as he anticipated, and he’s not sure if he likes that or not.

His social media deep dive takes him to your page, and he lays in his bed for what feels like hours scrolling through your content. You’re the weather girl for the nation’s most watched breakfast program, Good Morning Japan, and you’re clearly the show’s sweetheart. There’s photos of you with fluffy animals, on boats, at the beach, with celebrities. Katsuki feels like a dunce for not knowing your name when he read it on the paper.

One of the top posts in your hashtag is a photo of you in a bikini and a sarong, feet ankle deep in the shallow waters of Furuzamami Beach.

Fuck, you’re hot.

He throws his phone towards the end of the bed and begins his morning routine; Deku’s given him the office shift this week, and he intends to make the most out of it.

—

“Hey,” Katsuki pants, breathless.

“Katsuki, bro, the weather girl from channel 5?” Eijirou’s voice is smug as all as it rings through his AirPods. “She’s cute!”

“Eijirou, I will hang up on you.” He threatens, taking the museum stairs two at a time. He’s on his afternoon run through the city, pushing himself a little further than usual because of… reasons. The best part about being on office shift, is he finishes his shift as soon as paperwork is caught up on. And Katsuki is efficient as fuck.

“Akari keeps asking me when you’re over next, by the way. She said that you promised to take her to the parlour again.”

“Oh.” Yeah he did do that. Had her pretend she was feeling sick so he could slip from the grasp of some fans.

“Yeah, you’re bribing my daughter with ice cream again, aren’t you?”

“When’s your next overnighter?”

“Oh, I’m on days for the month,” he sighs, content on the other end of the line. “Tamaki’s taking my nights so I can spend more time with Aki; I’ve also got tomorrow off for the Maru’s anniversary visit.”

“That’s… nice of him.” Ah, yeah, it's the anniversary tomorrow; Eijirou’s taking it a little easier with each passing year, but the death of his wife is a painful cross to bear.

“Yeah I know, he’s a good guy. Anyways, just wanted to know if you wanted company tonight? I’m making breakfast for dinner.”

“Oh, your favourite.”

“Yeah, can’t go past it, am I right?”

“I’ll come around for a bit, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I can’t sleep over.” By big day, he means he’s meeting you again, and he needs the night to himself to overthink the whole thing.

“You got a whole room there, though.”

“Ei, as much as I love you and Aki, I love my bed more.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” There's some shuffling on his end, paperwork probably, then he perks back up. “How long have you been feeding me decaf tea?”

“What?”

“I have decaf tea in my cupboard at home.”

“Ei, I give you decaf every time.”

“Oh.”

“See you tonight; do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nah, I’m all organised.”

There’s a pause where Katsuki contemplates bringing up the anniversary, but thinks better of it. “Be over around six.”

—

He’s not all organised.

If Katsuki could pretend to be surprised, he would, but, “You forgot the eggs? For breakfast for dinner? No eggs?”

“Dude, don’t do this, Akari’s already given me shit for it.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki suppresses a grin. “I’ll run down and get some. Aki, want anything from the corner store?”

“Chocolate milk!” She yells from her room upstairs.

“Hey, get beers, too.” Eijirou says offhandedly.

This makes Katsuki pause. “Ei.”

“Kats.” He says in response, not meeting his gaze.

“Ugh, fine.” He grunts, sliding his shoes back on and toying with the black facemask in his pocket. “You can thank Maru for my leniency.” He says, glare hot on his friend. Eijirou just grins back as he fixes his stupid ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron behind his back, and Katsuki pulls on his beanie and mask, setting out for the walk.

He knows he wants to settle down a little further from the city. Ideally, even further than this. Sure, it’s a quiet neighbourhood, safe, where the houses have yards, and there’s grass, and trees, but… Katsuki needs more space. Privacy.

His relationship with the spotlight is rocky at best, and there’s this nagging in the back of Katsuki’s brain that warns him off all of this social media shit, the trending, the paparazzi, the overzealous fans.

The bell jingles as he enters the corner shop; it’s later than rush hour, but earlier than the typical teenaged late night snack visit, so the place is quiet.

He grabs the eggs from the shelf and heads down the aisle to the fridges, set on pulling the door open and grabbing a six pack of Sapporos.

“Oh!” A woman gasps, about to grab the handle as he reaches for it. “Sorry!” Her apology slips from her lips, and he feels his face flush a little under his mask.

It’s his fault, he’s been in his own head all afternoon. “No, I—”

It’s you.

You seem to make the realisation just as he does, your eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips. And you both stare, his own eyes glued yours as if he were stuck in some kind of trance, as if you had him under some kind of spell.

You blink first, and he forces himself to look away for a second, so he can catch his bearings.

“I’m sorry Bakugo, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re wearing a facemask as well, but your smile pushes your cheeks up to crinkle your eyes.

“Nah, neither was I,” he admits. “You live around here?”

“Me? No, I’m cat-sitting for a friend.” You laugh. “Gosh, this is surreal, isn’t it? Imagine running into you here of all places.”

“Yeah, both of us buying beers,” he does his best to joke— which sounds fucking stupid, by the way— but you laugh a little more, glance around the shop before leaning closer to him.

“Feels like we shouldn’t be talking yet, doesn’t it?” Your eyes almost sparkle under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and he can’t help but stare. “I just wanna say thanks, though— for catching me at the Gala. I wasn’t going to trip so hard, but you were standing there like some grumpy Adonis, and I—” you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I got nervous and actually tripped.”

“Lucky I got good reflexes, huh?” He quips back, suddenly feeling super nervous— which is weird as hell.

“The best— Oh, I better let you get back to your night.” You take a step back, open the door and grab a bottle of wine, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor when you crouch down to grab a 6-pack of beers. “These ones?”

He nods, points to the pink knee-length rain boots you’re wearing. “They’re cute,” he can’t help but snicker. “All part of the weather girl uniform, I guess?”

You hand him the beers with a laugh as you stand. “I happen to think they suit me,” you say in defence, pointing and tapping a toe dramatically.

“You’d be right,” he says a little too gently, clearing his throat when you look up at him with surprise through your lashes. “I, uh,” he starts, those damn nerves not going away. “See you around.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” You nod. “I’m gonna check out the ice cream, bye!” Then in a flash of tan coat and pink boots, you’re heading back towards the frozen section, and he’s shaking his head, eggs in one hand and beers in the other.

He tries not to stare too much, tries not to dwell on the lightness of his heart, or how god damn likeable you are. Instead he hastily grabs a chocolate milk, heads to the checkout, pays for the goods, and leaves.

—

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow that he can feel Eijirou trying to push down all evening. It doesn’t quite seep into Akari— she was only a baby when her mum passed— but Eiji’s frayed edges scratch at Katsuki, and deep into the night they’re both tipsy, sitting on the back porch nursing beers after Akari heads to bed.

They don’t need to talk— far past silence being uncomfortable— but when Eijirou’s shoulders start to shake, Katsuki wraps an arm around him, pulls his head to his chest, and lets him sob.

He stays on the couch, still not ready to christen those All Might bedsheets.

—

The second “official” meeting is supposed to happen while he’s on duty. He read through the file this time, so he’s prepared; maybe even a little… over prepared.

It’s morning, and you’re supposed to be at a certain famous bakery, sampling the goods in an advertising bid between the cafe and your work; weather on location, or something ridiculous. Then, he’s supposed to enter, and he’s supposed to look at you like ‘oh, you’re from the Gala’, and you’re supposed to look at him the same way.

The Commission didn’t account for Katsuki running into an actual villain.

He wipes his bloodied nose on the back of his glove, watches as Iida drives the crook away in the back of a paddy wagon, then pulls his other glove off with his teeth to look at his watch.

9:15am. The meeting was scheduled for 8:10am.

“All good, Dynamight?” One of the EMT’s waves him over and he inwardly groans.

“It’s just my nose, I’m fine.” He insists, swatting the little green man away.

“Just let me do a couple of observations, dude, it’ll take two minutes.” His pink eyes narrow up at Katsuki, and the grumpy blonde gives in, following him over to a bench and sitting down, letting him work his paramedic magic on him.

His phone vibrates in the pocket of his tac pants, and his watch tells him it’s Kira. He taps a few buttons on his watch, connects it effortlessly to the earpiece in his left ear. “Hey,”

“Bakugo, what happened? Anderson is pissed.” She hisses through the earpiece.

“I am currently with…” He glances down at the short man crouching around his med-pack, reads his name badge. “Midori— Really? Your name is the colour of your skin?”

“Bakugo.” Kira presses.

“That’s my Japanese name, my real name’s Timothy.” Midori sasses back, pink glare venomous.

“Timothy, huh?” Katsuki tests the name on his tongue, gauges Midori’s reaction to the pronunciation; the other man seems to soften a little.

“Bakugo.”

“Just use Timothy—“

“Bakugo, focus!” Kira borderline barks in his ear.

“Right, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” Katsuki sighs, looking up at the puffy white- grey clouds overhead.

“We have to reschedule for tomorrow,” Kira sighs, probably doing that thing where she pushes her glasses up and pinches the bridge of her nose. “She’s heading to the coast, though, so you’re gonna have to—“

Kira wants him to what?

His semi-sunny disposition sours. “I can’t do that.”

“Bakugo.”

“Kira,” he starts, feeling his blood pressure rise along with the octave of his voice. He glances down at Mido—Timothy, tries to control his volume. “I’m on patrol shifts this week, I can’t do that.”

He can’t let Izuku or Shouto or Ochako down. That, and he can’t think of a good excuse to be heading to the coast.

“No, you’re right. It’d be better if she could meet you halfway or something.” Kira sighs, conceding a little.

He drops his chin, focuses that glare of his at the pavement next to Timothy. “Not half way—”

“Oh, ouch, are you okay?” Pink rain boots step into his vision, and when he looks up, you’re smiling down at him. He just… stares stupidly up at you, feels something warm and wet drip over his lip as your eyes widen. “You’re bleeding, Bakugo.”

“Shit,” he turns away from you, swipes at the wetness of his upper lip, knowing he’s probably just spreading it.

“Here,” you gently bully his hand away from his face, dab at him with something damp and smelling of coconut. It takes a moment for him to register that you’re sitting next to him, wiping at him like a nurse while the god damn EMT is kneeling at his feet, and Kira is screaming for his attention in his ear.

Without even thinking, he ends that call, silences his earphones on his smartwatch.

“You’ve got your work boots on,” he starts, wary. “You on the clock?”

“Oh, I had a thing a few blocks away, and heard my new favourite hero apprehended some bad guy in the same district.” Your focus isn’t on him, you’re in your handbag, fussing around with wet wipes and a little plastic bag and a handkerchief.

“So, you came for a walk?” He asks, staring. Staring because seeing you on social media is vastly different to seeing you in person, and so close. He could count your lashes, could reach out and test the softness of your skin, your glossy lips—

“Yep.” You grin, looking up and meeting his eyes.

It’s a spark— the same one from the corner store— and it pulls deep in his chest, your beauty and charm and the peace you bring almost overwhelming, yet entirely endearing—

“Hey— sorry, I know this is a wrong place, wrong time type thing,” Timothy stands up, fishes his phone out of his pocket, your spell broken as you both look up at him. “But I’m a huge fan,”

“Of me?” You chirp, surprised. And it takes Katsuki a moment, because usually it’s him being approached with nervous apprehension.

“Yeah, who else?”

You send a sideways glance to Katsuki, “uh, the actual top ten hero in our midst?”

“The top ten hero doesn’t look good in a swimsuit.” Katsuki says under his breath, and you giggle while Timothy pales.

“I’m sure you do,” you whisper back to him, before standing up. “Alright, sure, a selfie?” You ask, all of your attention on Timothy, who smiles at you, his pink irises akin to sparkling hearts; and much to his horror, Katsuki feels like he wants to steal you away from him.

“S-sounds good to me,” Timothy stammers, just as enamoured as Katsuki feels.

“‘Kay,” you agree, smile big and bright and Katsuki has to look away or he might get giddy by proxy. Timothy’s cheeks flush when you stand close—too close, probably— and you direct him into taking a few pics, before making him show you each of them, your nose scrunching as you scrutinise each one.

“Why does my nose look like that?” You frown at the EMT, a little wounded kitty.

“You look great though! You don’t mind if I post it to social media?” He asks, and Katsuki resists an eye roll.

“Of course not! Make sure to tag me so I can follow you back.”

Katsuki stands, hands on his hips. “Perfect, are you done? We’re busy.” He means to say that he’s busy, and he also means to glare at both of you, but it just doesn’t pan out that way. So, he runs with it, throws caution to the wind, and offers his hand to you.

All to quickly, he’s got anxiety nibbling at his heels— the fear of rejection, of ‘am i doing too much too quickly?’ of ‘should I be going off script just because you are?’. It sets in, and almost sends him spiralling. Almost, is the key, though, because before that little beast can sink its teeth into him, you’re taking his hand, practically skipping to his side, and beaming that too-brilliant smile up at him.

“I know a cafe,” you say, waving that pesky EMT off and almost pulling him away from the little crowd Katsuki’s pretending not to notice.

“I bet you do,” he can’t help but look at you— and it feels so schoolboy, and too soon, and off script— and he can’t help but get swept away in the ease at which you flow.

“We can share a parfait,” you lean into him with a little smile, whisper it like a secret. Your arm links around his then, and you lean against his bicep, look up at him through your lashes like a Disney branded cherub.

“Bet you’ll eat the cherry,” he snickers, trying to gain the upper hand, trying to gauge whether or not you’re getting swept up in him, too, because this… this thing isn’t natural, isn’t created from a want, but a need, a contract—

“Silly,” you pull away a bit and pout, “we’ll get two cherries.” And, fuck, you’re pretty. Pretty in all of the ways he loves, like the Commission have his tastes on file. You’re kind where he’s mean, and fun where he’s serious, edges soft where his are hard.

The seed of doubt’s been planted, though, because he can feel himself closing up, shutting down. Even though he’d love to stay in this flirtatious little moment with you, soak up all that attention you’re showering him with, he needs to be realistic— is wired to do so.

You’re acting.

He’s acting.

At least, he’s supposed to be

I'm a damn mess 😭😭 this was so beautiful but so damn painful 🧡😭😭

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

Warnings: Angst

A/N & wc: just something quick I whipped up, 3.6k

This is what you wanted isn't it?

All along you begged the Gods for this.

Asking with hot tears streaming down your face that you wished that you weren't here. Not dead but that you never truly existed at all. That no one could remember you and it would be that much easier to be nothing in the wind.

The Gods have a cruel sense of humor, granting your wish, much to your dismay, at an extremely shitty time in your life.

The call comes in the middle of the night, another fear you've had since you married him. Worry clawing up your stomach as your clammy hands reach for the phone. It's Kirishima, it's just Kirishima. He just wants to chat right?

At 2am he just wants to ask about your day doesn't he?

Deep down in the very marrow of your bones you know that's not true. Not even able to fool yourself for a second as your groggy voice shakes with a weak "H-hello?"

Kirishima comes out and just says it. Explains it all but it's as if he's speaking a different language. You barely make out Bakugou and the name of the hospital before the ringing in your ears is deafening. He goes on for what feels like hours as your mind plays out grotesque, horrifying images of what may be left if your husband.

He never got hurt.

Ever.

He promised.

He fucking promised he'd be okay. He always does when he kisses you goodbye. When you say stay safe and he affirms with a hum and "I will. For you I will."

But you didn't say stay safe this time did you? No you spat insults at him, hormonal, pms fueled rage over something he couldn't even control.

He was a superhero. He should be able to control everything.

"Sweetheart, I'm fuckin late." Is what he growled and when he leaned in for a kiss. You leaned away.

"That's it. I'm coming to get you." Kirishima hisses about to hang up when you tell him you're fine. That you'll be there and he can go home to his own worrying and extremely pregnant wife.

You use your quirk, illegally, flying at the speed of light to get to the hospital. Rushing out the syllables of your new last name, Bakugou in such a rush the nurse asks you three more times before you spy Kirishima's hands running through his red mane as he steps outside an ICU room.

Pushing past the nurse, biting your tongue as you rush towards Kirishima. Ignoring his warning as he tries to catch you as you slip under his large arms. Through the heavy door and pulling past the curtain.

It's worse than you imagined and yet still not as bad. He's unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face but thankfully no tube snaking down his throat. You launch yourself at his side, the slow beep from the monitor by your head reassures you he was still breathing.

Still alive.

Your palms are clammy again as it all comes rushing into focus. With each beep comes new information piled on top of the other. First is the pungent smell of cleaner. Disinfecting anything and everything until it's bleaching the lining of your lungs. Then comes the cold, thick plastic of the bed handle beneath your hands. Groaning from your grip as your heart rate increases.

Beep

The stiff blankets, they're scratchy and all wrong. Bakugou doesn't like this type of "cheap shit". He's more high maintenance than you. He likes tightly woven or soft down comforters.

Beep

Red, the bandages on his chest are weeping red. So much fucking color clashing with the white gauze. That can't be right. It'll get on this stupid scratchy blanket. The sharp inhale brings in more sanitation, your breath becomes more shallow. Teeth grinding and competing with the sound ringing in your head.

Beep

It's dark, it's so fucking dark in here you can barely see. Where are his eyes? Why won't his eyes open? You're whispering his name so softly like you do when he's worked overnight and you're leaving for work by mid morning. His crimson eyes always open. Always crinkle when he says goodbye. Why can't you see his fucking eyes?

Beep

Why

Beep

Is he gonna..

Beep

"Hey." A solid hand clamps onto your shoulder pulling you out of your spiral. Bringing you to shore with his rough grip, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

At some point Kirishima has pulled up the reclining chair for you, offering it silently with one of those stupid, shitty scratchy blankets. You feel your skin crawl and not from the low thread count.

Eyes flickering back towards your husband of three years.

Three whole years and he's just going to leave like this? Like a candle snuffed out by…by

By some damn extra?!

Kirishima watches your labored breathing, he is never going to go back on the promise he made his best friend and the one Bakugou made in turn.

"She's stubborn. Look after her if something fuckin happens."

"I'm staying with you. I'll ask the nurse to-"

"No!" It comes out too quick, too loud as you turn on him like a wild animal. For just a moment you can see it. Dully reflected in his eyes in this damned low light, your reflection. What he sees.

A scared little girl who's about to lose her shit.

You clear your throat, straightening your back before you breathe out deeply.

"Your wife is going to pop any minute. You need to be available for her." You say sternly, pretending this was something so much more mundane. Like you've missed the bus or the taxi Bakugou sent for you.

A small inconvenience, yea that's all this was. You were just going to be late, late to see Bakugou and-

"You're sure?" Thunderous voice threatens to crack, looking over his friend, making it harder on you.

"Yes. You're injured, yourself. Besides your paternity leave starts the second she goes into labor and as office manager I do have a say on that. In fact it starts now." There it is, there's that stern voice he's used to. The light scolding you've always given him and Bakugou for the last five years.

Kirishima seems to give it some thought, a lot of thought.

"Eiji, please I'll be okay." You smile up at him, lips twitching at how difficult it is to turn them upward when all you want to do is scream. Scream until the burn of bleach is replaced from the raw emotion that's bubbling up your throat.

The large man shifts his weight, debating giving you a hug and when he sees your body closed off, hands white knuckled on the bed frame he thinks better of it.

"You better call me if you need anything. At least give me that okay?"

"Okay." You appease him, still forcing the smile and hoping he'll get the fuck out.

Finally he does, staring you down with a soft goodbye and a stern I mean it that you wave off. Until finally he shuts the big, scary door.

Leaving you alone with that sound that is both reassuring and yet nauseating.

Beep

Beep

Beep

And this time you can't hold back the tears.

Crying enough tears to fill up two weeks. Almost drowning in the amount shed as the doctor reassures you he'll wake soon. He has healthy brain wave activity and he's breathing on his own.

"All good signs. Try more of his favorite music."

It's all they can say. All they can give you to cling onto as you replay your last words to him.

Hateful, cruel things.

Over the stupidest fucking fight.

"It's because you're still in love with her!"

Throwing insecurities in his face and for what?

Suddenly his heart rate monitor beeps loudly, quickly chirping the increase in speed as you watch his eyes move beneath his long lashes.

Before they flutter open, looking over at you with… with

With disgust.

Your heart hammers in your chest. Was he? Was he still mad at you?

"H-hey Suki." You go to reach for the hairs that cling to his damp forehead only to be caught in his deadly hot and tight grip, "Katsuki, you're hurting me."

His free hand rips the mask from his face as he looks over at you with harsh set eyes. The intensity weakened only by his groggy state.

"Don't use my given name." A threat that has your eyes watering, "I don't even fuckin know you."

He tosses your hand back into your lap as if you were trash, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Where's my wife?"

"I am your -" But he cuts you off.

"Where the fuck is Momo?!"

Momo, Bakugou's first wife, comes quicker than you'd like. Wrapping her arms around you, sickeningly sweet perfume chokes you out, almost drowning out the harsh chemicals of the room. She came straight from the movie set, long lavish dress fit for the Mafia Princess character she was playing in some new film.

The same very ex wife who you claimed Bakugou wasn't over. Gritting your teeth as she fusses over you, as if you were a delicate thing that could break any minute and not Bakugou who lies under that itchy blanket.

"Momo, darlin." He croaks and she visibly flushes. Rushing to him, spying the blanket as well before she's using her quirk to make something more to his liking.

"Baby why weren't you here?" You can hear the strain in his voice, the emotion he's biting back as she looks down at him confused, "Are you still filming that dumb super hero movie?"

"Bakugou-"

"Katsuki." He corrects sharply, even moving his mask that the doctors fought to put back on to make sure she heard it. Momo looks over her shoulder cautiously to gauge your reaction.

"Katsuki…" It feels odd to form the syllables on her tongue, "I finished that movie seven years ago…"

"Wha-what?"

"I'm also…Ba-" His glare causes Momo to correct herself, "Katsuki, doll, we aren't married anymore. We divorced. You're married to her now."

Momo pulls you into view and Bakugou stares at his ex and "current" wife.

A long, heavy moment of silence passes before the heart monitor beeps furiously. The smell of caramel permeating the room much too quickly before the doctor rushes in.

Just as Bakugou takes in a breath to start yelling, pulling at the mask and almost ripping out his IV his body goes slack. The doctor was barely faster than him, injecting him with something to lull him back to sleep.

Especially since explosives and oxygen did not mix well.

The doctor blinks rapidly having just caught the tail end of the conversation. Memory loss was normal, expected, but possibly six years or more…

Well that wasn't, even with his long history of concussions.

With the quick assessment he turns to the two women in the room. Debating on just how to go about this as bedside manner wasn't always his strong suit.

"What I'm about to say may be difficult for you two however keep in mind this is what is going to be best for the patient and his recovery. Since he is experiencing amnesia we will have to go along with what he thinks is true right now. Just like one would when someone has dementia. There will be less stress on his body if we indulge in his perceived reality."

"For how long?" Momo asks tentatively. Doctor Yashido takes a sharp inhale.

"Until his memories return."

"And how long will that take?" Two different tones ask in unison. One a frustrated bark the other laced with deep concern.

"Could be weeks. Could be months." He swallows thickly, Yashido never was good at delivering bad news and this was almost as bad as it gets, "If they ever return at all."

The hospital floor falls away from beneath your feet. Causing you to plummet into the deep dark depths. Questions buzzing in your head battling alongside the screaming. The sound echoes in your mind whipping up the thoughts of Bakugou having never loved you. Of Bakugou thinking so little of you, of finding you so fucking annoying, like the gnat you were he went and forced himself to forget the last three years of your marriage and taking it a step further by going back far enough to forget you existed at all.

Isn't this what you wanted? What you wished for that night? That you'd wake up and you hadn't existed at all?

Beep

This wasn't about you. Fuck this was about him. Would he be happier with Momo? He never really did say why they broke up. He always said it was "just mutual" and left it at that.

Beep

At least he was alive right? You could watch him from afar again. Watch the star rise as your feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.

Beep

You could forget he ever brought you up in the night sky to dance along with him. It would be easy right?

"Love." Momo calls for the third time, manicured hands on your shoulders, "Why don't you go home for some rest. And a shower."

You stare up at her blankly, at the doctor who gives a curious look before you slowly nod.

"Yea….yea that's a good idea."

Returning the next day proves painful as you see Momo has changed, stunning even in leggings and a cropped shirt. Even took the initiative to alter the decor of his ICU room. Soft yellow string lights, a humidifier, soft fluffy blankets and silky sheets that Bakugou might bleed on anyway if he didn't stop moving around so much.

It's awkward to stand in the corner and watch them interact. To watch everyone else interact with the man you so desperately wanted to see.

And wanted him to see you in return.

But he can't now, he doesn't even know your name. And everytime you come close to the bed he stares at you with such discontent, with suspicion as if you were the dirty liar in the room.

Kirishima falls back, bumping his shoulder into yours gently. You look up at him with deep bags under your eyes.

"Mina is worried about you, ya know. She says you can stay at our place if your apartment is too…much." He offers with a strained smile, you place another lip twitching half assed smile on your own mouth.

"I'll be fine."

Yet the late hours of the night, all alone in your too big apartment, curled into his pillow that is slowly losing the smell of him haunt you the most.

A few more weeks pass and even with Bakugou's restlessness the doctors argue with him about downgrading his stay to general admission. They instead move him from the ICU to the neurology floor, making this the longest Bakugou had ever been in the hospital to date. Meeting even more doctors that now talk to both you, for legal reasons and Momo, for Bakugou's fantasy, about his brain damage.

How there is hardly any and that there were many things about the brain that we as humans had yet to understand.

But that was his whole fucking job wasn't it? To study the brain and unlock its god damn mysteries. Not tell you you were shit out of luck and non-existent to your very real husband who was in such a twisted reality.

It's baffling to see his scans, to hear nothing is wrong. Painful to see the love in his eyes that shine for Momo and not a spark for you.

How odd it is to share your husband with his ex wife.

Sometimes you're brave enough to sit closer to him like you are today. Steeling your nerves against his harsh interrogation as if you were the nasty villain that put him here in the first place. Sitting second to Momo who holds his hand or smooths down his blanket. Watching the days bleed together as her once, almost forced and polite smile turns into something else.

Turns real, genuine.

It makes your stomach churn.

"The fuck are ya still doing here extra?" He hisses at you when he wakes from a nap, Momo shushing him. Scolding him about being rude and he counters.

"What's rude is that she fuckin exists! Why is she fuckin here, Sweetheart?" Your heart falls into your stomach. Throat closing up as your body rejects this.

Rejects everything, especially the sound of his nickname for you aimed at someone else. At someone you're stupidly jealous of. At someone whose fault this could never be and who has only ever shown you kindness.

Sent your flowers on your birthday.

Avoided hero galas the two of you went to.

"Katsuki!" No correction on his name now, Momo having settled into his given name once again and quickly at that.

"No, it's okay. I'll- I'll get us some coffee, Momo." You say abruptly getting up. Wanting comfort from no one but the man that just cut you with his sharp tongue.

He's just groggy. It's cause he's hurting. It's the meds that are saying that.

The same excuses echo through your head as you walk through the halls, air thick with intangible weight as you trudge towards the sludge machine painted in coffee labels.

You wondered what exactly the air was thick with. Grief most likely, of lives forever altered resting on the shoulders of sobbing loved ones who could barely hold themselves up but were now expected to carry the weight of the world.

Or maybe it was resentment, festering anger. Angry that this happened. Angry at God or the Gods or at no one in particular that let this happen to their loved one.

All you knew was that the air was thick with it. Smothering you with every futile breath you took.

Somehow you make it back to the room, muscle memory must have guided you back here. Toeing open the door that you left slightly ajar quietly.

Only to find a sleeping Bakugou, breathing even and heart rate lazy, slow. Momo sighs softly as she pushes his ash blonde hair away from his forehead murmuring ever so softly.

"Why'd I leave again?"

The paper cups in your hands crush easily. The scalding liquid burning in your hands as Momo startles from the sound. But nothing burns as badly as the angry tears you're holding back.

Maybe you should leave. Give these two their happily ever after.

Maybe everyone was right. Bakugou was a lot to handle. Mitsuki had said so herself. Saying you'd never be good enough for her son as long as you stayed weak willed.

Weak hearted.

"You won't last four years with my son. Mark my words. You'll give up on him because he's too good for you, Momo was the better fit."

She muttered them to you as she pulled the veil over your blurring vision before you walked down the aisle to her son.

You never did tell him. And now you never would.

Mind made up as you storm from the hospital room. Biting your lip until you tasted blood as you held yourself back. A war raging inside your head.

He's just lost his memories, that's all this is. No you fucking idiot his love for Momo was stronger.

Soon you're marching up the stairs to your shared apartment, almost snapping the key off in the lock from the sharp turn of your wrist. Rushing inside without bothering to remove your shoes as tears cloud your eyes. Threatening to fall in fat drops as you rummage through the closet for your suitcase. Stacking it haphazardly with random items in the room. A small painting, your charger, random clothes and jewelry. All the while murmuring to yourself before you bully your way into the en suite.

Gathering things here and there before you see it. The box catching your eye that has you instantly nausted.

It's quiet for a moment. The buzzing in your throat and head silenced by your intense concentration.

Before erupting with a raw scream shoving everything off of the granite in one foul swoop.

Shattering his expensive cologne and your pricy perfume onto the wood grain tile. The scents meld together reminding you of hot dinner dates the two of you never made it to. Too busy fucking on the vanity counter, staring at one another in the mirror. Now all that stares back at you is a ghost. Hollow eyes and a heavier heart.

Biting your lip you stare at the black box on the floor, torturing yourself by picking it up. The rectangular shape feels different in your hands, the rounded edges feel sharp as you gently unwrap the gift as if you didn't know what sat inside.

Two white tests. Neatly capped and set in tissue paper. Two solid pink lines on one test and the other written clear as day in digital text Pregnant

With finality you slam the box into the trash with such force the can falls over. The other several tests toppled out indicating the same thing. Confirming what your blood tests results in your voicemail echoed back to you from your OBGYN

Congratulations!

The sound of her voice rings in your head. Was it a "congratulations", was it really?

This is what you wanted right? A baby?

To not exist? To fall off the face of the earth?

Fate is a twisted and cruel thing, giving but always taking its hefty price as tears burn your eyes, bags packed leaving the once shared apartment.

The universe only gave you what you wanted right?

So congratulations, you got exactly what you wanted.

You were finally forgotten.

This is so cute

"you grabbed the wrong lunch"

bakugo x fem!reader

Your back was turned, facing the class as you wrote on the chalkboard. Your concentration broken as you heard mumbling coming from behind you.

Turning around you saw a couple of your students in the back whispering and exchanging looks as they looked towards yourself and back to each other.

With your hands on your hips you got the groups attention. "What are you guys whispering about back there?" you asked raising your eyebrows.

"Miss, are you married?" one of them asked.

Every student perked up once they heard that. Murmurs of agreements and head nods go around the class.

Realizing their attention isn't going to stay on the topic learning, you sighed giving in. "To answer your question, yes I am happily married." you answered flashing them your wedding ring.

Your students started getting louder in excitement, some shouting out questions about your marriage and compliments about your ring. "Where did you and your husband meet?" a student asked.

You couldn't help but smile at the memory, "We both met in our first year of this very school."

Some students started speculating who your husband could be. One brought up that you'd often walk in with Midoriya, asking if it was him. That suggestion made you chuckle and explained that you guys are close friends and colleagues.

Many started going through the list of hero's that graduated from UA, hoping it was someone they knew.

"I-" You were about to explain before a knock interrupted you.

"Come in?" you said with a confused tone, as you weren't expecting guests.

In walked the man of the hour, your husband.

"Hey doofus, you grabbed the wrong lunch." he said holding up your lunch bag.

"Oh!" you said in surprise as you grabbed it from him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as a greeting.

"Your husband is ProHero Dynamight!" your students yelled in surprise.

"Dynamight is married?!" shouted another.

Katsuki gave you a kiss on the head in return before before turning to the class. "Yeah and, you brats got a problem with that" he said with a glare.

"Oh leave them alone Kats, they just found out I was married and to you of all people." You said smiling as you grabbed his lunch.

"Hah, what's that suppose to mean" his glare now directed at you, though less fierce.

"Nothing" you winked, "Wanna stay and eat, it's almost their lunch?" you asked with a smile. "Tsk why not, I'm here anyways." He mumbled sitting down in an extra chair you pulled up.

"Can we ask you questions!" one of your students asked. "Can I have your autograph?" someone else said. "Wait where's your ring?"

You could tell Katsuki was starting to get irritated from all the questions, you were about to silence the class when he answered them.

"I keep it around my neck so it doesn't get damaged." He said pulling out the chain from under his shirt. A gold band with intricate detail that you designed for him.

The class "oooed" and "awed" as they studied the ring, noticing it matched yours.

Soon the bell for lunch rang, "okay extras beat it so I can have time with my wife." grumbled your husband.

Everyone leaving, talking amongst each other about what they just witnessed and learned about their fave hero and teacher.

~~~

Didn't like this one that much

Cuuuute 🔥🥰🥰🥰🥰

DRAGON SHOUTO AU | DRABBLE SERIES MASTERLIST

tags/warnings: fantasy au, interspecies relationship, aged up characters, possessive behavior, fem pronoun + afab reader, some implied western fantasy au sexism (not from our mans tho), 18+ mdni!

prequel (0.3k)

As a child you come across what you think is a weird fat lizard the size of a cat, playing in the fields just outside of your village.

part i (0.5k)

Shouto comes into his majority, and with it, his full powers. You end up with something far trickier than a dragon on your hands.

part ii (1k)

Shouto has shifted into human form in order to achieve a very specific objective. (nsfw!)

drabbles will be posted under the tag #dragon shouto au

"Hello Operator? Get the Grim Reaper on the phone CAUSE I JUST DIED FROM CUTENESS" 😍😍

Soooo I dunno if ur up for it but can we get a continuation of the baby fever thing where tsu'tey and s/o adopt spider but now it's in the future kinda like pre avatar 2 where spider is a teenager. Nothing angsty I just wanna read how Tsu'tey teaches spider things and spider calls him dad and spider finally getting that family love (I would literally die for this little boy I- *explodes*)

this is called having no self control btw! this was meant to be a 500 word drabble lol, but since you all love dad!tsu'tey so much, here we go!

continuation of baby fever

part one

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none!

tags: fluff, dad!tsu'tey, adopted spider, pregnancy mention

"Dad, you're drawing them on crooked!" Spider complains, leaning away from his hands.

Tsu'tey frowns, looking down at his work. "They are not crooked."

"They are! Look!"

The stripes that Tsu'tey has painted onto Spider's fragile human skin upon his insistence do not looked crooked to Tsu'tey's eye, but he squints closer at them anyway.

"They look fine to me, maitan." He says with a sigh, dipping his fingers back into the paint dye and finishing up on the last stripe he had been working on. "Look at my stripes - they are not perfectly even."

Spider grumbles, but goes quiet as he darts a look at Tsu'tey's stripes. Seeing proof that Tsu'tey's stripes are not perfectly symmetrical seems to be enough to soothe him, at least for the moment.

When the kelku entrance rustles, Tsu'tey does not need to turn around to know that it's you. He knows you by the sound of your footsteps and the way your hands coast so softly over the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"Hello, boys," You murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to Tsu'tey's cheek. His ears twitch happily, and you move back to avoid getting hit with one, "Oh, Spider. The stripes again? That stuff is so hard to wash off-"

"That's the point, ma." He says, craning his head around to look at you. "I want it to last. I'm faster when I've got the stripes."

"Finished." Tsu'tey murmurs, clasping his son's shoulder before pushing himself to his feet.

Spider stands too, and Tsu'tey looks down at him thoughtfully. The stripes are a little jagged, though there's no way that Tsu'tey will ever admit that. More than anything, his attention catches on how grown Spider has become. He is still small, only reaching Tsu'tey's navel, but he has grown taller than you. His shoulders have broadened, growing thick with muscle from his long days running and playing with Na'vi children. It has always been more difficult for him to keep up, but the result of his tenacity is the impressively defined musculature at such a young age.

"We are going fishing, yawntutsyìp." Tsu'tey says to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "We will be back soon."

"I'll catch you a big one, ma." Spider adds, pushing masked face into your neck in a hug before bouncing away.

"Did you see!" Spider is still enthusing about his catch the whole walk back to the village.

"I saw." Tsu'tey confirms. The woven basket with their catch is slung over his shoulder, and a content sort of smirk is playing around his mouth as he watches Spider bounce over the tree roots.

"It was huge, and I nearly missed it but then I managed to hit it right as it darted out from behind those big rocks-"

"It was very impressive." Tsu'tey intones, reaching out to ruffle at Spider's hair.

Spider is still grinning, flying high on the success of his mini hunt. "I told you that the stripes made me faster!"

Tsu'tey lets out a rumbly sort of laugh, letting his hand drop from the top of Spider's head to the back of his neck and letting it rest there. His son is growing older, becoming a man, and yet he is still so small under Tsu'tey's hands. He feels a flare of vicious protectiveness deep in his chest, but that's nothing new.

"It was a very good catch, maitan." He murmurs, squeezing lightly at Spider's shoulders.

Spider looks down at his feet as he skips over another exposed tree root. "Do you think I'll be a good hunter?"

Tsu'tey tilts his head, and catches at Spider's bicep as he slips on moss. Once he is sure that he's stable on his feet, he releases his arm and pats him on the back.

"Yes. You have a good teacher." He bares his teeth at Spider in a grin, and gets a little smile in return. "But even if your talents do not lie in hunting, that will be okay. No matter what your skills are, I will be proud of you, my boy."

Spider's cheeks redden, but he smiles back all the same. The corners of his eyes crinkle just like yours do, and Tsu'tey's heart swells at the similarity between the two of you. His precious little family.

When they enter the village, you're waiting by one of the cookfires. You're fiddling with a couple of beads, and Tsu'tey recognises that you're weaving together a hair decoration.

"Yawntu," Tsu'tey calls as he approaches with Spider at his hip. "Look at what our son caught."

Spider takes the basket from him and bounds forward, grinning wide behind his mask as he proffers it at you. You make a big show of oohing and ahhing as you look into the basket, looking very impressed indeed.

"What big fish," You say. "These could feed the whole village for days!"

It had taken Tsu'tey quite some time to learn how to read the body language of Sky People, but even he can see how pleased Spider is. If he had a tail, it would be swishing wildly.

"I'm gonna go show Lo'ak." Spider says with a grin. "He couldn't catch anything yesterday! Jake isn't as good a teacher, I guess."

"Spider." You scold, giving him a look.

"Go, show Lo'ak." Tsu'tey encourages. "Make sure that Jakesully sees too. Show him that my son is a fine hunter."

"Tsu'tey!" You chide, delivering a smack to his thigh.

Spider just laughs, before taking the woven basket and running with it deeper into the village towards the Sully's kelku. Tsu'tey watches him go, before turning to you with a smug little grin.

"Ma'yawntutsyìp," He murmurs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into yours. "He did well. He is growing skilled."

You cup the back of his head with one hand, scratch at his head with your little fingers. He lets his eyes slide shut lazily as he enjoys the feeling of your warm body so close to his after a hunt. He drops his head further into the cradle between your shoulder and neck and nuzzles there.

"I do not like him hanging around with Jakesully's children," He murmurs, his voice muffled in your throat. "There are many other children in the village."

"Oh stop," You mumble, your fingers massaging at his scalp, "They’re good kids."

"Neteyam is like Neytiri. Sensible." He grunts into your skin. "But Lo’ak is like Jakesully. He will get Spider into trouble."

"Oh, Tsu'tey." You sigh in that way you usually do when you think he's being dense. "They're both good kids. Besides, he's not really going to show Lo'ak anyway. He's going to show Kiri."

His brow furrows. "Kiri? She has no interest in fishing."

You sigh again, although this time you seem a little more amused. "I seem to remember you showing off your fishing skills to me when we were younger, hm?"

"That was different," He says dismissively. "I was courting you. That was my way of expressing interest, of showing you that I am strong."

"Mhm." You say, as though you're waiting for something.

Slowly, Tsu'tey raises his head from where it's buried in your shoulder and squints at you. He's not sure if he's following what you're suggesting.

"You do not think this is the same?" He asks, frowning. "Spider is- he is too young. He cannot be thinking of mating yet-"

"Oh, he isn't." You interrupt with a quick shake of your head. "It's a little crush, love. It's sweet."

But Tsu'tey is frowning, his mind overactive. "Does she- how does Kiri feel? If she does not share his feelings, he will be so disappointed-"

"He isn't going to be proposing anytime soon, relax."

"He needs someone who will value him-"

"Tsu'tey."

He falls quiet, looking into your eyes with a thoughtful little frown. You're looking right back at him, mouth quirked.

"He's a teenager with a crush. Let him be." You murmur, stroking a thumb over one of his pointed ears and making him shiver.

Tsu'tey just grumbles. "He has not told me about a crush."

"Well, I'm sure he will," You say simply. "He's a teenage boy. He's going to be shy about it."

Tsu'tey huffs, and looks down at his hands with a scowl. The thought of his small human boy developing feelings for someone who may not return them makes him feel shifty and aggravated – how is he supposed to protect him from such a thing? It will hurt him so much, and there is nothing that Tsu'tey can do to stop it.

"Stop overthinking." You mutter, nudging against his bicep with your shoulder as you finish tying the hair decoration together. "For all you know, Kiri likes him too and is just shy about it."

Tsu'tey grunts. The thought of Spider, such a small and weak little thing, having his feelings at the mercy of Jakesully's daughter makes him feel a little as though he's losing his mind.

"Hey."

When you nudge him again, he turns to you fully. The beaded hair decoration in your hands is finished, all red beads and golden yellow feathers. You hold it up, eyes bright.

"I made this for you." You say, holding it out for him.

Tsu'tey's stern expression softens, and he ducks his head closer to you. "For me? Will you put it on, yawntu?"

Your sweet little face is so bright as you shuffle forward and reach up for his face. Tsu'tey watches you carefully, reaching out to lay his hands against your waist as you wind the beaded decoration around a small section of braids just behind his ear.

"So handsome." You coo at him when it's tucked neatly behind his ear.

Tsu'tey smiles, satisfied. "Thank you."

You sit back and then nestle into him. He opens his arms and accepts you into his side easily, resting his chin over the top of your head contently.

"Our son will be a good hunter." He says, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "And a good brother."

His hand lands on the curve of your belly, his thumb smoothing over the swell of it beneath your woven top. You lean into his touch, sighing happily as his other hand massages at the base of your spine.

"I know," You say simply, making a soft noise when he leans down to cup below your belly with his hands, lifting some of the weight up. "You've taught him well."

Pride swells in his chest, and he purrs softly as he presses his face into your neck again. You smell so sweet and comforting, and he inhales contently against your skin.

His small son has grown so strong, and his little mate fits so perfectly into his arms, no matter how large your belly has swollen. His family is so small and weak; he holds you close as his chest rumbles, pleased that he's large and strong enough to protect you all.

In Your Eyes

Tamaki Amajiki x Gn!Reader

Summary: When two people meet eyes for the first time.

Warnings: Fluff, a little hostage situation, ProHeroAU, Togata has his quirk back, mentions death but no one dies,

When his eyes met yours it felt like the world had come to a stand still.

You had been walking down the street to go into work like normal, an everyday routine. A Villain had other plans though and had taken you hostage. You're unsure why it had to have been you, it could've been any other person, of course life loves to throw screw balls your way.

Hanging upside down in the air was terrifying, more so from the fear of being dropped. Someone had called that the Heros were on the way and you could only close your eyes in a silent prayer that they'd capture this guy before something worse happened.

"You all will bow before me! I dare anyone to try and stop the great Anpu!" Wait did this guy really call himself Anpu? "Uh sir, have you killed anyone?" You couldn't help but ask, I mean the name did mean God of Death.

It seemed like your question had stumped him, "U-uh well..no..no I haven't, BUT IM WILLING TO," he yelled at you. You could only roll your eyes, your fear from before completely gone at this armature Villain.

"Stop right there!" A voice had interrupted the conversation and caused you to look, there were two Heros down on the ground, one with bright blonde hair and a red cape, the other wearing a large white cloak, the hood pulled up to cover his face. Wait, was he shaking?

"Don't worry citizen, we'll save you!" The Hero, now recognized as Le Million from what other people called out, had shouted to you and you called out, "Take your time, no rush," this had taken everyone back. We're you not terrified?

The guy standing next to Le Million, now announced as Suneater had suddenly sent out a large Octopus tentacle and it wrapped around your waist as you were tugged in his direction, Le Million appearing out of no where and punching the Villain back onto the ground.

Closing your eyes due to the sudden pull, you felt two arms wrap around you. The feeling was tight yet not so snug you couldn't get out.

"You okay?" The deep voice asked, you opening your (e/c) eyes to look up into a pair of dark eyes that stared back at you.

The whole world seemed to have gone silent as you stared at eachother in wonderment. His eyes were dark but warm, reminding you of a dark stary night sky somewhere in the quiet of the mountains. You felt your face flush as you found your hands on his chest and his hands still around your waist. Was this a dream?

Tamaki on the other hand couldn't find it in him to pull away from you. Beautiful (e/c) eyes stared into his soul. He wanted to shy away from your eyes and your hands that lingered on his chest but at the same time he wanted to stay looking to your eyes.

The rich color was warm and inviting, pulling him in deeper as if it would quench the thirst of curiosity he now possed about you. Your eyes to him seemed to hold the whole world, reminding him of a sunrise where hope for a new day started.

He heard nothing, no more Villain or cheering citizens. Just you and him. Him and you. Two people alone in this world. Was this a dream?

"T-thank you," you smiled at him, your eyes seeming to glimmer even more with gratefulness and the sunlight hitting them just right that had his heart stopping.

"Y-You're wel-welcome," he stammered, his face now flushing yet you found it enduring, almost cute. His eyes drew you in more, causing you to unconsciously lean in closer to the flushing Hero who you felt squeeze you tighter.

Who knew the day could start out this amazing.

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Ayee a little shorter but wanted to focus more on the feelings than the plot. Let me know what yall think

👀☀️⭐🌕❤👀

Ugh my heart 😭 ❤️❤️

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (1)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. (wc; 3104)

Jake knew a saying; held onto it ever since he had resided amongst Na’vi– every person is born twice. While he believed that it meant that the second time is when you earn your place here in Pandora, Eywa had a clever way of broadening the idea. His very children were proof of it.

He thinks it’s the great mother’s way of compensation, perhaps a second chance for him to do better– to do his very best to keep them alive on behalf of those he lost. 

While Kiri was a special case enough, you too were an odd one. 

You are Tsu’tey's daughter. Turns out, he had someone in secret while he trained to become olo’eyktan– when he was supposed to take Neytiri for himself. It was taboo– absolutely wrong to become unfaithful to one’s mate. But following the carnage of the great war, when Tsu’tey had so selflessly sacrificed his life, only then did Tsi’ewa came forward; told everyone of their love and what could have been. She was a simple songstress along Ninat, but it was her round and bulging belly that caught everyone’s attention.

It caused an uproar and understandably so. After all, Neytiri had only announced her rebellion with Jake not long before, but when the people connected the dots themselves and both stories had become one, they understood that their hearts merely yearned for another and no one should have ever dictated otherwise. Arrangements had been made and condolences were exchanged— everyone can only look back and wish that things could have been different.

Jake was supposed to take you under his wing as a way of honoring him– he owed Tsu’tey his life and perhaps an apology as big as so. But after your mother had unfortunately died during your birth, he knew to himself that he had to take you in; not as a responsibility, but as his own blood and flesh. His first daughter.

You were the loudest baby, he recalled. That day, Jake had rocked your body back and forth in his arms frantically, while Mo’at and Neytiri did everything within their power to help Tsì'ewa. Your cries were ear-splitting, enough to wake the whole clan up. 

“Just what do I do with you,” He muttered under his breath, eyebrows knitted in frustration– just where do he hold you? Is he doing it right? Are you hurt? Why are you crying so loud?

“Jake, the baby!” Neytiri’s shout from inside had cut his train of loud thoughts, snapping back to your bawling. He wasn’t doing such a good job. 

“I’m trying, Neytiri– this thing won’t budge.”

Neytiri had emerged from the hut, stomping her way to Jake with a scowl. "That is not a thing, you skxawng!" she exclaimed before gently scooping you up from his arms, cooing softly to you– though it was more like mocking him instead. “Does Jake here make you cry?” She said, patting your thigh soothingly. “He’s not at all pleasant to look at, but you have to get used to it.” 

Almost in an instant, your cries had died down. You babbled along with her, like you were agreeing with her every word. He slowly pulled himself closer to Neytiri, eyes wide with curiosity as he watched your small hands playing with her long braids. “Heh, she has Tsu’tey’s eyes,” He whispers, unable to look away. 

The flap of the hut swinging open was the only thing that got their attention, momentarily away from yours as they looked at Mo’at with anticipation. With a single shake of her head, sorrow surged their hearts, eyes traveling back to your innocent ones. They mourned for you; an unknowing child should never have to carry such grief. They had to make a choice– A responsibility they weren’t expecting to have so early. 

Jake mindlessly trails his finger down your stomach, gently, like you were the most fragile thing. Your little hand wraps around it and it was like you had binded his scattered thoughts into one big understanding. 

Sully. You’re one of them now.

Jake releases a breathless chuckle as he gazes upon his lover and you with a newfound clarity, a perspective so bright it illuminated in his very eyes. Then came an idea– the desire of having children of their own. Perhaps that’s why Neteyam came after only two years. You were quite the ploy; the push they needed to start a family.

You were truly blessed– the genius of your age was undeniable, your remarkable talent soon earning you the admiration of all who had seen it. By the time you turned six, you had already mastered many of the abilities that a hunter would need– your skills with a bow were unrivaled by most of the children your age, let alone those who were much older than you. They'd marvel at your accuracy each time you took aim with an arrow. You could never miss. You had to make sure you didn’t. 

By the age of 12, you had already accompanied Jake in hunts. You had developed a knack for planning, coming up with routes and back-up plans that were often surprisingly effective. You have proved to be helpful plenty of times. You were quick, silent– full of poise. They often wondered if you were an old, seasoned soul trapped inside a little girl’s body. 

But as quickly as the spotlight had shone down on you, it left almost as soon as it had come.

(“What you did today was reckless, y/n.” Jake settles his bow on the table aggressively, emitting a sharp thud. You were just as frustrated, throwing your satchel down the floor of the hut. 

The mission had gone rather wildly, with things not going along the plan. There was another airship– one that no one was aware of. Your instincts jolted your body, immediately throwing an explosive towards it which had it blowing all over the place– its pieces crashing and causing a wildfire. 

Jake argued that there could’ve been a more safer way. One that didn’t have to risk more of our resources and supplies; one that didn’t have to injure the other warriors. Of course you knew to yourself that you did the right thing. You did what you had to do. 

 ‘You could’ve been hurt and got others killed! Just what were you thinking?” He continued to berate you. You jest that if this went on, there’d be steam visible above his already heated head. 

“I had to take a risk– not everything goes to plan and this is proof of it.” You answered back with a scowl, “If I hadn't, there would’ve been more casualties.” 

“That’s not a call for you to answer to! Jesus Christ,” Jake runs his palms down his face, grunting, before looking back at you– expression suddenly tired and soft. “Come on kid, where’s that sweetheart who always listened to what I said?” 

You had scoffed, a hurt forming on the pits of your stomach. “That sweetheart once had a place in plans before.” You said, eyes unwilling to look at him. It weighed in your heart heavily– why did people assume that you were the only one who changed? You didn’t understand. “Pretty sure the Jake before was a good listener too.” 

The wrinkle in between his eyebrows deepened in confusion, but he never was one for confrontation. With a single dismissive grunt, he turns his back against you. “I’m way past your attitude. You’re grounded. Go.”)

As you grew, the resemblance to your father became ever more apparent. Jake started noticing the many similarities between the two of you; the way you walked– how you sauntered confidently through a crowd. Your braids would move along your heavy steps (and perhaps, that’s where Neteyam got his mannerism of swaying his too.), shoulders wide and proud. You even had his signature snarl, something Tsu’tey was known for that unfortunately seemed to have been passed down to you too. 

However, it was more than how you brought yourself. You were strong-willed– stubborn. 

There was another thing about you too. You didn’t call Jake dad anymore. It hurt him– left a heavy feeling on his chest every time you regarded him so distant. It was unfair that you still called Neytiri mom, why did it have to change with him? He didn’t have the heart to address it. Couldn’t ask you what went wrong. 

Because he knows damn well why. 

Lo’ak was enough of a headache, but you were a different kind of royal pain in the ass, more like a personal problem. It was tiresome. Petty. There was not a day that you and Jake wouldn’t argue and bite each other’s ass off– and yet, there was never a day where you two would talk it out. The fights would blur itselves out and before they knew it, things would be back to normal, only for it to fall out again over something small. It was routine. The only thing normal for you both. 

He missed you– missed his baby. Just when did you grow to become so distant? When did he start to overlook you?

You’ll admit, you might have indulged in the folk’s gossip. They always had a story for everything and they have plenty about your father. Tsu’tey was a fit olo’eyktan. He had proved so in his training and determination. Of course it was a low punch in the gut when the throne had been passed to an outsider– a demon, most of all. It was unfair, he knew it wasn’t right. A washed up marine had taken something he had worked for like it was nothing. Like he was nothing. 

You pitied your father and you feared you’d be like him– like nothing. 

And history might just repeat itself. You weren’t clueless– wasn’t blind to the fact that Jake had trained your brother more. He adored him so much that the very moment he was in the right age to train, you were off to fend for yourself; trained all alone while Jake went over the routine with Neteyam like he did with you. You remembered waiting for him every afternoon because he promised that he’d make time– that time was yours and yours only. But as the light bled and neared eclipse and you were too cold to wait outside, you learned never to wait again. 

They would come home soon after– smiles on their faces and a handful of apologies for you. 

Soon enough, your suspicions proved you right as the people started to talk again; Neteyam– the golden child. He would make a good olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps that would explain the drift between you and Neteyam too. Could they blame you for it? You had lost their attention so early– while you still needed them. You weren’t their kid and you were reminded of it everyday. In times when you didn’t know if you had space in the family hammock while they sat together, telling stories under the starry sky. You pretended to have fallen asleep everytime; back against them as you listened. In times where the family was growing and growing, until the small table wasn’t big enough for everyone anymore– or in this case, for you. 

(“Come on, ma’ite, what are you doing so far from here?” Neytiri had called for you when she noticed how distant you were from everyone. You silently scooted beside her, wooden bowl in your lap. “Look, I prepared your favorite.” 

It wasn’t. You hated it. You hated the tangy taste of it so badly. But you had decided to eat what was left on the table after everyone had gotten their meals and there wasn’t usually enough for you. Neytiri thought nothing of that– didn’t think that you eating only scraps and dried fruit was because there wasn’t anything else for you to have. She simply thought that it was your favorite and had been making it for you ever since.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her. Not when she thought she had been doing well with preparing it. You kissed your teeth, smiling tightly as you lifted the food to your lips, eating silently. “Thank you, it’s good.” You muttered under your breath after.) 

But you were family; they said so themselves. When they tucked you in to sleep, when they patted your head. They were still present now, just not in the way you wanted– not in the way you longed for. It seemed like making them angry was the only way you could have their attention– particularly, your dad. You could never make Neytiri mad. She tries to understand you, she does. Explaining now just seems so.. Petty. So childish, you decided to push her away instead. 

What do you tell her? That you only let dad blow a fuse or two was because you missed him? Because you didn’t know what went wrong? 

So there goes your routine. 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t be olo’eykte.” You had brought up again, lips in a familiar snarl. “You tire me and for what? Kiri is already training to be Tsahik– just what would my place in this clan be?” 

“We are not having this conversation again, y/n. Not tonight.”

Jake had just returned from a particularly bad hunt; went home empty-handed and with a patience as thin as a strand of hair. He continued to sharpen his dagger, movements almost aggressive. Everyone immediately went out of his way, not wanting to be on the end of his temper– not you though. You could never get a hint, it seems.

“Yes, tonight! My ceremony is almost near, sir. I have been waiting.”

It wasn’t like he had a reason anyway. Jake couldn’t tell you because he had no reason as to why. Why couldn’t you be olo’eykte? You had all the skills to be one, even more so. But in the back of his mind, a thought so deep and petty that he couldn’t bear to say, tells him that the name he carried was something to gift his eldest son. Olo’eyktan was a privilege reserved for Neteyam. He never thought to have you so early– he always dreamed of having a son first. 

“Wait more.” 

“This is insane– sa’nok!” You had turned to Neytiri, eyes pleading. She quickly grasps your arm and tries to tug you back towards the exit, speaking in a soft but firm voice as she tries to soothe the tension.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we go out for a walk?” She whispers. To be frank, she was tired of this– never of you, no. But at the way things had been. Parents aren’t parents automatically just because they have had children of their own. It’s a skill they have yet to muster– to truly understand. She didn’t know where the line between you and her had blurry along the years. Didn’t know where this constant need of yours to be seen came from. 

You jerked your arm away from her, almost too harshly. It tugged on her heartstrings, not knowing what was going on with you. “I cannot wait anymore.” You said, taking two steps towards Jake with an unreadable anger– an anger he didn’t know when had stemmed from. 

“Is it because I’m not your daughter?” 

His eyes widened. A flash of vulnerability visible in his gaze, momentarily softening his glare. “You stop this right now, y/n.” He had stood up, tucking the dagger back to his loincloth. Jake’s larger frame towered over you, telling you to drop it– to leave the conversation. But you weren’t backing down. 

“I am your eldest–! You trained me earlier than Neteyam, I have been here long enough–”

“You aren’t ready!” He had shouted with the same fierceness, earning a dirty look from Neytiri.

“Why won’t you see me?” Your voice had softened, borderline begging– just a bit, but enough for his ears to flatten in response. He knew that beneath those few simple words lay many layers of underlying meaning; emotions that have yet to be spoken. 

But he turns his back against you dismissively anyway. “Neytiri, get her out of here.” 

Neytiri grabs you by the arms again, although a bit forceful now, but just enough for her to touch you– to have you in between her arms. She embraced you, like she was trying to keep the words from escalating. She feared one of you would say something out of line; something you both would regret. 

But on the brink of the tension– the severity of the situation, you had muttered. Your voice was muffled, but it was clear. The message was oh so crystal. “You took everything from my father.” 

Jake grunts, “Yeah? Well maybe your father wasn’t enough either.” 

“Jake!” Neytiri hisses and although Jake couldn’t see her, he knew very well he was getting quite the conversation with his mate too. 

It was a low blow. Unnecessary. A straight strike to the gut. It was a pain so bitter, you didn’t want it to linger any longer– you were nauseous. You wanted no more than to vomit everything that spiraled out of your stomach. 

“You want to lead so badly and you can’t even control your temper. No clan wants a hot-head for a leader.” But he kept going– relentless and cruel. “You ought to be someone else’s shadow.” 

“But I’m your daughter,” Your tone had softened, almost cracking as the lump in your throat grew. Tears blurred your vision, threatening to escape as Neytiri held you close. 

“And yet you never listen to me— because I’m not exactly your father, yeah?” With one last glance, he stepped out, passing his children who stayed just outside the door, listening. Jake opens his mouth, desperate to ease the tension– the discomfort written in their faces, but he quickly shuts it and continues to walks out. He had said enough for tonight. There was nothing saving his face from this. It was best if he left instead. 

“Oh, ma’ite.” Neytiri rocks her body along yours, drawing soothing circles on your back but the embarrassment settles in your chest– gnawing at your body. You catch a glance of the pitiful looks from your siblings as they try to enter the hut silently. 

How could you make a mess out of yourself in front of them? Why had you let this blown over?

You retracted slowly from your mother’s hold, wiping your tears before running the opposite way from where Jake had gone to. It was better if you left instead.

mauve here! finally done writing this after racking my head for weeks. wanted it to be relatable (??) as much as possible, idk why. there is just something therapeutic w writing about your past issues <3 but i hope this one's alright!!! really excited to finally post this heheh

lots of kisses!