Unfinished Business- Chapter 1

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

JUST FOR YOU (6.2K)

— viking!bakugou x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m dreaming about you, chief.”

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

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

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

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

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

“aren’t i lucky to marry you.”

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

“does it still hurt?”

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

“nothin’ hurts when you’re near me.”

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

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

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

“i’ve never lied to you—,”

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

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

“but—,”

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

“tell me i’m not a liar, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“ugh, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes, my lady.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes!” “no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“not yet!”

“i see.”

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

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

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

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

“see you baby.”

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

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

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

“home!”

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

that fucking guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“he’s gonna see you naked?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that you are, gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“if all goes well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what the fuck—,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i love you too,” bakugou chips in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s okay, baby,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

“you first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“babe, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, oh,” is all you manage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he huffs a laugh, “okay, okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fine. happy wife, happy life.”

“don’t you forget it.”

Hollow Heart

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『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 5,092 as of ch.1 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You Chapter 2.5 | Choke Chapter 3 | The Grey Chapter 4 | The Good Left Undone Chapter 5 | Tourniquet Chapter 6 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

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CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data. 

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo 

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile. 

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since. 

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends. 

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late. 

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click. 

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages. 

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear. 

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks. 

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit." 

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!" 

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?" 

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship. 

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath. 

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free." 

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes. 

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him? 

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you. 

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice. 

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different? 

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure. 

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.” 

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin. 

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that." 

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one. 

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down. 

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern. 

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too. 

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on. 

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart? 

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo. 

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down? 

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets? 

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right. 

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?! 

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens. 

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious? 

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant. 

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch. 

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified. 

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them. 

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves. 

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality. 

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder. 

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm. 

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

"Look on Down From the Bridge" – Tommy Shelby x Reader

[ MASTERLIST ] 

SUMMARY: When Tommy’s about to jump off the bridge after seeing Grace’s ghost, a young girl walking by convinces him to change his mind.

[ REQUEST ] by @mrscherry​

AUTHOR’S NOTE: First of all, I loved this request, because it reminds me of one of my favourite songs that I associate with Tommy and that is “Look On Down From the Bridge” by Mazzy Star and I even included a lyric from it here. Second of all… I made my own self cry while writing this. It just felt extremely personal 😣 I hope you’ll like it 😅

TRIGGER WARNING: suicide attempt

WARNING: English is my second language.

WORD COUNT: 1,510

Keep reading

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

how long will we fall

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it.

alternatively, jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

[ soulmate au, painful f2l, unrequited love (at first), a lot of angst, more fluff n wholesome moments, emotional constipation, yearning, jealousy, swearing, reverse cards that make u cheer, redemption arc, i swear to u that this does not hurt as much as heartburn did ]

notes: i’m back with a big fic!!! :D this was originally supposed to be named something else but i realized that the title was Too Serious and u know what,,, ten listens later as i write this, i realized that i’m obsessed with this song that i received from this ask and wow thank u so much anon <33 although the rec isn’t originally for this fic, it fits perfectly and i can’t thank u enough <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Keep reading

sincerely not | season one

↳ gojou satoru x f!reader

— series masterlist

summary. with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, arranged marriage, ceo au, 18+

word count. 213k

fic warnings. mean!gojo, VERY OOC, adultery/infidelity, profanity, explicit smut, violence, emotional trauma/physical abuse from past experiences, neglect, heavy family drama, illnesses, classism, pregnancy, undertones of masochism, undertones of manipulation, abandonment issues, overall toxic relationships, graphic depictions of self-harm, suicide/murder (and attempts thereof), minor character death, plot loosely based on twotm & tre. please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

fic art + playlist + gallery + faqs + ko-fi + misc + podcast feature

one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten + eleven + twelve + thirteen + fourteen + fifteen + sixteen + seventeen + eighteen + nineteen + twenty (final) + sequel

status: completed

all rights reserved © 2021 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

PAIRING: BAKUGOU KATSUKI X F! READER

WARNINGS: food play (ice cream) | nipple play | temperature play | oral sex

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

A/N: wrote this for myself as a warm up and ended up not writing what i was warming up for so i decided that you could read it too instead :) plus canva was being cooperative with banner making for once so i got excited, pls enjoy and hope this helps you cool off a bit from this horrid heat! ♡

It was a hot summer day as the sultry sun of Musutafu kissed your skin with its warmth. Laying on the chaise lounge chairs by the pool of your home while the upbeat yet chill melody from your favorite summer playlist vibrates through the speakers as you relax deeper into the cushions. The recent rise in temperatures had you feeling suffocated to the point of almost tears so you thought that a serene day by the pool with your husband could be refreshing for the both of you. Currently waiting for his return from the kitchen, where he went to get you both something to help you cool down further. Returning shortly with two vanilla ice cream popsicles you’d purchase earlier as he hands you one before sitting by your legs on the edge of the lounge.

Making quick work of it when he does as the popsicle was already melting under the weight of the sun, your fingers beginning to feel sticky as ice cream started to dribble down the wooden stick and onto your skin while your tongue lapped at the top, all while Katsuki watched - his own fingers getting coated in stickiness, as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever could, but something about you in the summertime always sparked a new wave of emotions when he's around you.

The warmth that radiated from your body along with the aroma of your sweat when he hugs you after a hot day, the little to none clothing exposing your skin allowing him to devour you with his eyes while doing mundane activities, finding you sprawled and passed out naked on the couch on random afternoons when he arrives home after a short shift, unable to resist you as he finds himself more and more infatuated with you with every passing day. 

Just as he is right now, completely hypnotized by you as his eyes roam every part of you, the thin layer of sweat along with the added shine of the sunscreen making your skin glow against the sunrays, the newly developed tanned bringing a different sparkle to your eyes every time you meet his, the way your bikini hugged every curve so perfectly, how the unruly hair accentuates your features in newfound ways. You probably found it all a nuisance, but in his eyes, he thought you looked ethereal.

And the more he observed, the more his swim shorts began to feel tighter against his frame, an occurrence that had become more common with the hot weather as he was sure his cock had a mind of its own every time he was near you. And when his eyes fixated on the way your tongue swirled around the tip of the popsicle, he found his throat going dry at the scene regardless of the ice cream quenching his thirst, but Katsuki was thirsty for something else. 

Smirk already plastered on his face when your eyes meet his again, a confused look adorning your features when you address him. 

“What's with that look?”, you ask before taking another swipe of your tongue to the ice cream. 

“Nothin', just looking at you”, taking a taste of his ice cream as well, catching the creamy liquid melting on the side with his tongue before it could fall on his hands.

You, on the other hand, were not as quick as you found yourself distracted with your lover, and now droplets of ice cream were falling against your chest. The icy touch of the sugary liquid gives you some relief against the scorching heat, yet still reaching for your towel to clean off. But a large hand wraps in yours before you could even reach it. 

“Allow me”, the gruff voice of your husband fills your ears over the music in the background as his hot breath hits your skin when he leans forward to lick at the spilled ice cream.

“Wouldn't want it to go to waste now, would we?”, he adds with a cheeky grin on his face, one that grows wider when you match it, already knowing where his antics are going.

Allowing another drop of ice cream to fall on your chest as he watches it trail down your skin, tilting his own popsicle over you for more to spill and travel along the valley of your breasts. Licking the sweet liquid up just before it could disappear behind the middle strap of your top as his fingers began to dawdle against it, slowly caressing the fabric while he admired the way it hugged the roundness of your tits. Giving one of them a small shake in his grip before running his fingers down your side to reach your back as you lift yourself a few inches from the cushions to allow him access, his digits tangling with the straps securing your top before slowly pulling them loose. Causing the fabric to teasingly slip from your skin and reveal your pretty tits to him. 

His mouth watering at the sight as his cock now strains fully erect in his shorts, feeling it jump when you settle back against the cushions once more, tilting your head with a new lust-filled glint in your eyes as you bring the melting popsicle down to your nipple, circling it as it begins to pebble under the cold sensation. An amused cough resonating from your husband’s throat as he stares in awe at the small show you're putting for him.

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me one day, woman”, he laughs before diving into the inviting treat. Lips wrapping around you as his tongue makes quick work at licking the sugary liquid against your skin, causing a moan to rumble in your throat from the delicious contrast in temperatures. The ice cold touch of the ice cream mixed with the sultry hotness of his mouth has your stomach flooding with an array of emotions as arousal begins to pool at your core. 

Tilting the popsicle in his hands over your skin again, as the neglected dessert pours down onto you and travels past your chest and along your abdomen with Katsuki’s hungry tongue following shortly until the liquid pools at your belly button, filling it up before his tongue delves inside.

Vermillion irises finding a newfound captivation when they fixate on the wet patch of your bikini as he lowers himself to press his nose against the fabric and take a long inhale of your soaked pussy through it. Eyes rolling to the back of his head behind closed lids while his hand reaches for the knotted straps that lay pretty against your hips whilst you reach for the other one with your free hand, feeling desperate to feel his tongue devouring your skin once more.

And when your cunt is finally revealed to him, he feels he might do just that, devour you whole. With the way your pretty pussy glistens under the sun and those lustful eyes you're shooting at him, the carnal need to have you coming undone on his tongue for the neighbors to hear rapidly builds inside him. 

But not before teasing you a bit as he settles between your legs, broad hand pressing against the back of your thigh to encourage them to spread further for him, admiring the pretty view before slowly pressing the melting popsicle against your clit. The sudden rush of cold makes you moan as he circles the growing nub with it, covering it with cream before leisurely dragging it down through your folds as droplets begin to run down your skin and pool at your rear for the cushions to absorb. 

Lifting the popsicle from your skin but letting it hover above your cunt for it to continue melting onto you as he takes a moment to admire your pussy covered in smooth white before diving in to lap at the sticky mess. His hot breath working to bring you closer to the edge as the knot in your stomach builds when he speaks against you.

“Hold still, beautiful… gotta clean you up”, he growls into your pussy as he hungrily licks and sucks at the creamy sweetness from both the ice cream and the flow of juices that rushes out of your cunt when the knot inside of you finally bursts and you gush right into his awaiting tongue as he eagerly swallows your release. 

The melody of your moans filling the space leaves a satisfied smirk on his face while he licks the remaining ice cream from your skin as he is sure that the neighbors probably heard how good he makes you feel.

The soft pads of your fingers against his blonde locks urging him forward is the only thing that stops his hypnotized licking as he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit, a habit of his as a way of saying goodbye for now to his favorite meal, before crawling over your body to capture your lips in his. Tasting your release mixed with the ice cream on his tongue as you continue kissing while slowly lifting up from the lounge to flip your bodies so that Katsuki could now lay against it while you straddled him. 

The ice cream in your hands now dripping over his chest as you feel his breath hitch against your lips with each drop, causing you to smirk into him before releasing a giggle when you feel cool and sticky fingers travel up your thigh towards your rear following a light spank to it. Breaking the kiss to trail kisses down his chin and along his neck, the subtle scratch of his incoming stubble tickling your lips as you continue to travel down his chest where the ice cream is as your eyes look for his to find them already on you before your tongue darts out to lick away at the sweet liquid.

A groan threatening to escape from deep in his chest when your hot tongue laps at the cold fluids mixing with his sweat as warmth returns to his skin from how aroused your wet touch is making him, his cock feels like it might burn through the fabric of his swim shorts the more it twitches against it, fighting for some release. 

And when your hand travels down the contour of his muscular chest, your nails gently scraping against his skin as they travel down the curves of his abs onto the waistband of his shorts to press against his clothed cock, he can't contain the moan that vibrates from his throat - his resolve always so easily weakened when it came to you and being under your curious touch - as his thighs begin to clench when you apply more pressure to the palm of your hand whilst rubbing his throbbing cock through his shorts, the heat radiating from it making you smile against him, finding it amusing how turned on he could get when you took the lead like this.   

“Fuck, baby - you're heating up”, you whisper against the juncture of his neck as you press your lips onto his warm skin, trailing kisses up towards his ears, the tips of them red under the weight of the sun.

“Let me cool you down, yeah?”, sucking his earlobe into your mouth, the skin feeling hotter than his body against your lips as you swipe your tongue on the delicate skin before leaning down to settle between his legs, not wanting your teasing to outlive the fleeting lifespan of the melting ice cream in your hand.

Your fingers hooking around the waist band of the swim shorts as you begin to pull it down from one side while he aids you on the other, his popsicle long gone under the heat of the moment. When his cock is finally released, the thick vein of the underside of his shaft is already throbbing with need, leading up to an alluring red tip adorned with a steady flow of precum that travels down his cock to pool around the base - so wet and needy you can't help the rush of drool that threatens to spill past your lips at the delicious sight.

Sneaking a small lick to his tip to get a quick taste of it before the vanilla overpowers it. Sucking the remaining ice cream into your mouth before discarding the wooden stick on the cushion next to you so your hands could grip at his warm thighs as you tilt your head back for the creamy glob of white to lay on your tongue as you press against the top of his pulsing balls and slowly drag it up his shaft. A hiss escaping him when the cold mixture hits his sensitive skin before a wanton moan erupts from him when you wrap your mouth around his hot tip. 

The difference in temperature driving him insane as he feels he might cum at any moment, Bakugou never thought the feeling of your mouth could get any better, but low and behold he was mistaken.

Making quick work of his cock before the ice cream completely melted in your mouth, you press your tongue against the throbbing vein of his cock as you take him deep in your throat, the ice cream working in your favor to take his full length while your sticky hands massage his heavy balls, something that always worked wonders when bringing your lover closer to the edge. 

And with the way you were devouring his cock, the flood of arousal in his gut bursted as soon as it built, the wet noises of your mouth slurping on the sweet cool liquid dripping past your lips and down his balls in your warm grasp while his tip rubs against your hot throat is the last push he needs as his fingers tangle with the damp hairs at your nape to press you against him as he buries his cock deep inside of you. A river of creamy white filling your mouth between the ice cream and his cum as rope after rope of hot release stains your throat. Swallowing every drop the best that you could while savoring the tasty mixture of sweet and salty against your tongue. His hips thrusting with every drop that's spilled into you before they slowly settle back down onto the cushions.

Blunt nails gently draw circles on the back of your head as he slowly pulls you off of his cock, a creamy string of saliva connecting you as you slurp it while following it towards his tip where you press your lips in a sloppy kiss, your own way of saying a temporary farewell to your favorite treat before his hand urges you forward to lay on his chest. Bodies sweaty and sticky as the faint smell of vanilla and sunscreen fills the air, while Katsuki cradles your face in his palms.

His thumb brushing away a stray tear of your temple as he takes a moment to admire the hazy look you get after sucking his cock, your pupils almost in the shape of hearts and Katsuki swears it might just be one of his favorite views before pulling you close to press his lips against yours to taste himself on your savory tongue. Deciding to remain wrapped against each other a while longer under the warmth of the sun before heading inside to wash away the muggy feeling before dinner.

BAKUGOU BARBARIAN-VERSE | MASTERLIST

tags/warnings: fantasy au, aged up characters, sfw, accidental marriage, part i is gender neutral but reader has fem pronouns in later parts

PART I (1.3K)

On a cold, windy night, barbarian Bakugou warms you up. Things get complicated from there.

PART II (1K)

Your traveling party visits a village where you accidentally trigger an ancient marriage custom. Now, aspiring suitors will fight for the promise of your hand in marriage, and you're not liking how many unknown villagers seem interested. You're just hoping you can figure out a way to sneak out of the village before the tournament wraps up—except, wait, why is Bakugou striding into the ring...?

PART III (0.5K)

You learn something unexpected about your barbarian sort-of husband.

PART IV (coming soon!)

Bakugou learns something unexpected about you, and quickly becomes far too smug about it.

PART V (coming soon!)

After all these months, you wonder what Bakugou's true feelings for you are and whether your marriage is legitimate in the custom of his people. You try to find out what his plans are for the conclusion of your adventure. A small gesture from Bakugou clarifies his feelings.

drabbles will be posted under the tag #bakugou barbarian verse

✩°｡ ⋆ UNHOLY MATRIMONY

fushiguro megumi x reader

⭑ — PREMISE. in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

⭑ — GENRE/WARNINGS. arranged marriage au, aged-up megumi, family drama, angst to eventual fluff, domesticity, hurt/comfort, profanity (from naoya, mostly), suggestive themes, mentions and descriptions of aggressive behavior, blood, violence, panic attack, minor character death

⭑ — STATUS. ongoing | playlist | ko-fi

prelude -> one ⋆ to be wed -> two ⋆ unholy matrimony -> three ⋆ the right husband -> four ⋆ going downhill -> five ⋆ sinner's punishment -> six ⋆ a longer dream -> seven ⋆ love unspoken -> eight ⋆ all falls down -> nine ⋆ all done -> ten ⋆ a death wish -> eleven ⋆ transcendent truth -> twelve ⋆ the most twisted curse -> thirteen ⋆ seize your happiness -> last ⋆ to the one i love

© CHULUOYI. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any platforms