HevxX2

your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.

princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.

they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.

you were used to it.

but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.

and you'd felt hope.

you hate yourself for that hope now.

because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.

but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?

it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.

the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.

but you can't navigate him.

you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.

tonight was bad.

you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.

then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.

and the whispers.

you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.

"the blind empress."

"does he even notice her?"

"i heard he hasn't touched her once."

"what a waste of a pretty face."

"she must be so lonely."

"she must be so pathetic."

you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.

but inside, you were crumbling.

and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.

does he ever sleep?

you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.

a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.

and you can't take it anymore.

"ryomen?"

your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.

silence.

you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.

just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.

"what."

it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.

you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.

"i...i want to ask you something."

more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.

"ask."

you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.

"do you hate me?"

the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.

"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?

"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"

"stop."

the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.

but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.

and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.

you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.

"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"

"quiet."

his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.

"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"

you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.

a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.

"open your eyes."

the command catches you off guard. "what?"

"your eyes. open them."

you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.

"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."

"i can't see you."

"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."

please.

the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?

you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.

"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."

your heart stutters. "then why—"

"because i'm fuckin' terrified."

you blink. "what?"

"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."

"but—"

"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"

his voice drops to a whisper.

"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."

tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.

but he was...

...afraid?

"you don't hate me?" you whisper.

"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."

a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.

"but you never—you never talked to me—"

"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."

"then don't stop."

the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.

"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."

sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.

"you don't know what you're asking."

"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."

"i'll hurt you."

"i don't care."

"i'll break you."

"i don't care."

his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.

the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.

he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.

he pulls back, breathless.

"tell me to stop, and i will."

"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."

he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.

"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."

your breath catches. "ryomen—"

"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."

you nod, unable to speak.

his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.

"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."

you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.

"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."

he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.

"more," you gasp. "please—"

"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."

he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.

"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"

"yes," you whimper. "only you."

he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.

"tell me what you want."

"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."

his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"

"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"

"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."

he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.

and then his tongue touches you.

you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."

he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.

"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."

his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.

you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.

when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.

"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."

his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.

"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"

"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."

he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.

"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"

"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."

he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.

"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."

"okay."

"promise me."

"i promise."

he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.

he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.

"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."

you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.

just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.

"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."

he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—

a sharp pain.

fuck...you forgot.

you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.

"did i hurt ya'?"

you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.

blood.

his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.

"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"

you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"

"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."

"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."

"you're fuckin' bleeding."

"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.

he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."

but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.

when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.

"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."

"move," you beg. "please."

he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.

"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"

"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"

"yes—yes—"

his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.

"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."

he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.

"more," you gasp. "harder—"

"y'sure?"

"yes—please—"

he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.

"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"

"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"

he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.

at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.

he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.

"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."

you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.

"i love you too."

a long moment passes. then another. and then—

"we're going to do that again."

you laugh, breathless.

"right now?"

"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."

"promise?"

he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.

"promise."

you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.

"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."

you smile against his skin.

"my husband."

"forever."

"forever."

2026 ── 𝓦𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 @atelphobist 𝜗ৎ

ᥫ᭡ | © 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘪.

the “truth” was being told to a certain degree. the woman that made the ill mistake of excessively calling pro-hero deku during the after hours was actually his new hire, a skittish assistant who doesn’t quite understand the concept of professional boundaries.

she’d call regarding something minuscule and rather irrelevant given the hour; the shade of green streamers he’d prefer for his agency’s office celebration.

nothing more and certainly nothing less.

and he could’ve easily put you to ease by dispelling your assumptions about his faithfulness, hold you while whispering sweet affirmations, kiss you tenderly until you drift asleep in his arms but how could he when you get so riled up like this.

“of course not,” he groans, feeling your nails inch deeper into his roots. “you’re far from that.” izuku’s lips slightly part as his tongue darts out to lick at them.

you scoff, “then stop treating me as if am.” abruptly drop your hold on him making sure his head jerks backwards from the force.

“and since when do you have friends other than those two assholes you constantly talk to? should i fact check this little ‘friend’ of yours with them?” you hummed, with your arms crossing over your chest.

ah, you’re referencing bakugo and todoroki. he knows you’re exaggerating the grand scheme of things to get your point across. however, izuku is fully aware that it’s not entirely beneath you to disturbed the peace of night by driving to their residence individually for answers.

your stern face contrasting with his dazed expression with half lidded eyes stirs something dubious inside him. your gaze fiercely contorts from anger to disgust that makes the pit in his stomach deepen. it’s not fear that twist in his guts or makes his heart leap wildly around in his chest; it’s pure lust.

izuku shudders, feeling his cock twitch in the confines of his sweatpants that doesn’t find relive in the small readjustments of his hips. he smiles softly, “i can delete her number if that would make you feel better?”

you stomach his words and slowly pick them apart. it’s not “i will” but “i can”. he’s doing it to “make you feel” better, not because he’s feeling morally disturbed by his actions. will this actually make you feel better? or will slapping that smile clean off his face will?…and why is he hard right now..?

you notice the bulge forming a prominent print against his pants with a small beam of precum seeping through the fabric, causing a dark spot to become visible. you physically restrain yourself at guffawing at the sight.

your anger level soon lowers along with your energy to continue a tedious argument that is fuelling the man sitting in front of you. izuku likes when you’re sweet, you’re the sweetest thing ever for him, but he also loves the times where you can you’re mean spirited.

“you’re a piece of shit, you know that right?” your shoulders slump down and a frown embeds itself on your face. a dull pang radiates from izuku’s heart from the sight but a firm grip of your soft hand over his clothed cock fazes him. a strained airy whine echoed from his throat, starchy and soft.

you’re now leaning down into his personal space. your lips ghosts over his chapped ones with your minty breath fanning his face. your soft hand palms over his tip before trailing the muscle down the base and finally situate at the base of his cock.

“delete that fucking number if you know what’s good for you.” you whisper against the shell of his ear, putting emphasize on the severity of your words as you tightly squeeze him at the base

a groan ripples from his chest: winded doesn’t even come close to describe the breath that leaves from his chest. “yes, baby.” izuku strangles out, eyes squeezing shut whilst throwing his head backwards.

you watch him dig into his pockets for his phone all while slightly bucking his hips upward to receive a slither of friction from your touch. he unlocks it with precision, making sure you’re trailing his actions, then proceeds to his recent contacts to delete everything related to his newly assistant.

much to his dismay you release your grip on him to stand upwards again. a sigh of relief leaves your mouth, feeling satisfied with the outcome but your eyes quickly shift to less-satisfied man straining painfully against his pants. “you’re gonna have to take of that yourself, i’m not touching you tonight.” you deadpan.

izuku flashes a sly smile, already inching his large hand towards the waistband of his sweatpants. “..only if you watch.”

he doesn’t wait for a response or rebuttal before freeing his weeping cock from the confines of layered fabric. his tip flashes a fiery shape of red pulsing rhythmically to the ghostly touch of friction. the veins on the underside decorate the thick shaft beautifully while his heavy balls twitch with anticipation.

you softly gasp once his scarred hand securely wraps around the exposed flesh. he flashes a cheeky smile your way before gathering precum at the tip and slowly circulating his wrist to pump at his cock. he alternates between haste and steady motions cupping his balls with his free hand to add an intensity of pleasure; he’s putting on a show for his prettiest girl.

“aah!— j-just for you…only for you..” he mutters aimlessly into the air. his gravelly groans spurs heat to immaculate in the pit of your stomach feeling slick quickly dampen your panties. he chuckles once he catches a glimpse of you squeezing your thighs together, your resolve is melting as the sweltering heat within the room rises.

lewd squelching echoes from throughout as his cupped hand slowly reaches the cockhead then slaps back down the base with vigour. his now exposed lower abdomen from his shirt being slightly raised, rigidly contracts.

the sight of it all mirrored a shot from a pornography. with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape that allowed for noisy huffs to emerge, puffy lips shimmering from his constant knack for licking at them as his chest rises up and down.

“you’re fucking disgusting…” you say absentmindedly. it falls fast off your tongue; too deep in thought as you watch izuku work at his stiff cock, yet the words of negation shoot straight towards his groin and urge him on. he throbs harder than before and heaves louder.

he pumps a few more times before thick ropes of cum sputter out along with a string of breathy moans. the sticky substance paints the lower half of his abdomen and a few droplets land on his shirt. his hips spazzes as he twitches within his hands with the white of his eyes displaying from them rolling back.

you slowly blink at izuku. who is now slumped deep against the couch, trying to catch his breath. you watch his breathing soon return to normal and the way his flush glows on his skin. it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at him.

“'m really sorry for—” you cut him off by sinking down on the floor to situate yourself between his opened legs, carefully drag your tongue over his exposed stomach, gathering the now lukewarm cum that glazes his abs. his eyes never leave the intimidating pool of yours as you bore an unreadable expression while licking him clean.

you stand on your feet again, wiping the corners of your mouth with a now welcoming smile gracing your features.“….you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

with a pathetic, “oof-”, you slipped and fell, bringing him down under you onto the dirt below.

he swears he felt time slow down as he looked at you above him. a blush spread across his face as his eyes scanned the plump of your glossed lips, the shine in your surprised eyes, the necklace you wore that was practically screaming to be pulled-

in his flustered panic, he did the one thing he knew he wouldn’t fuck up.

and out-manuvered by flipping you overhead, successfully eliminating you.

he stood up abruptly, doing his best to hide his reddened face from your and the camera's views, doing something extremely out of character as he stretched out a shaky hand to help you, who was currently pouting at your rigged loss, up.

the second you took his hand and searched for eye contact with him, he knew you pinned the last nail in the coffin with a small, “thank you, kacchan.” 

you walked off snickering to yourself.

you, though, didn’t catch feelings for him at all. at least not until your last year at yuuei. when he had grown a couple inches taller, with toned arms and scars littering the majority of his body, shoulders wide and a matured look in his eye.

it also took you being pinned under him. it was during a routine training warm-up, you were assigned as partners. to be honest, you had been slacking off recently, which is why it was no surprise that within literal seconds you were with your back to the ground under it.

was he overdoing it slightly? yes, definitely. his hands held yours firmly under, with his legs nestled over your legs, locking you in place beneath him. you felt your face heat slightly, trying to control the beat of your hammering pulse that he could definitely feel through the contact between your palms.

his head tilted slightly, “do you surrender?”

“does it look like i have much of a choice to you?” you scoffed, still trying your best to regain whatever control you could get.

“there’s always a choice.” he slid off you, offering you a hand up.

neither of you moved to let go of each other’s hands, which prompted him to turn towards you. it was an afternoon class and the sun was already starting to set, making his tanned skin golden, and his scarlet eyes have a honey-glazed translucentness that you could get lost in. 

“...i guess i’ll just cut to the fucking chase then.” with a huge breath and a moment to stray himself, “i’ve admired you ever since fuck-ass freshman year and-” he ran a nervous hand through his hair, “i’d love to take you out.”

you did your best to bite back the huge smile fighting it’s way onto your face. “well then, i’d love to go out with you too.”

you let a moment pass.

“damn katsuki, since when did you get so formal?”

you dug your fingers into the sheets to stay quiet, gasping at how thick and full he felt from behind.

"fuck, you're so tight.." a rough growl left his lips against your neck, completely laced. moving in a slow, deep rhythm, he buried himself to the hilt every time his hips rolled forward.

"katsuki, please." you whimpered, burying your face into the pillow to muffle the desperate noises wanting to escape your throat. you couldn't tell if the pleasure was amplified because you had to be quiet, or because kirishima was in the very next bed. "he's right there.."

"don't worry about him. just take it." he grunted, his lips brushing your jawline as he picked up the pace. he gripped your hip tighter, holding you against his heavy, relentless thrusts. "yeah.. you like that? feel how wet you are for me?"

you could only nod frantically against the pillow, tears pricking your eyes from how good he felt.

"not too loud, baby.." his commanding whisper made you squeeze around him, and he hid his face in your hair, groaning softly as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. "good girl. shit—just like that." his voice dropped, low and strained.

meanwhile, on the other side of the hotel room, kirishima was fighting a losing battle with his own mind.

he wasn't asleep. he hadn't been asleep for the last ten minutes—sleep was a lost cause, leaving him wide awake with a stubborn hard-on.

he stared at the dark wallpaper just an inch from his face. he had woken up to the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was way too late to fake a cough or sit up without making things incredibly awkward.

the wet slide of skin, your muffled gasps, and bakugo's deep, dirty talk cut through the quiet room like a chainsaw. it wasn't loud at all, but it was engraving itself deeply into his mind.

his own body was reacting to it. he was starting to wish he could see—every time he was a third wheel, he couldn't help but imagine you and katsuki having sex together. he even let himself fantasize about actually joining in.

just go to sleep, think about training, think about rocks.. he pleaded in his mind. but all he could think about was how you'd sound without holding back if it was just the two of you alone—the face you'd be making, how you'd be clawing at the bed or katsuki's hair.. dammit.

your shaky moans started to grow louder, cut off when katsuki covered your mouth with his hand right before the distinct, heavy thud of his hips moved faster.

you and katsuki were getting closer to the edge, and as kirishima slowly slid his hand underneath the waistband of his pants, he knew he'd be right there along with you two.

© katsukiib ʚ♡ɞ do not steal, edit, or copy my work! ♡ — MASTERLIST! ♡♡

“Aw man… I really liked this shirt,” you mumbled, your eyes weighing down again.

Mina gasped dramatically behind you. “Bakugou, how could you!? That top was adorable! You’re evil.”

Bakugou let out a frustrated groan and walked away to fetch a napkin for you. All you could do in your fatigued state was stand in place with your eyes closed, thinking of the warm embrace of your bed. The wetness of your clothes did little to shake away your exhaustion.

Bakugou shoved a paper towel in your hand with a glare. “Try actually waking up before you start fucking walking. I’ll take you to buy a new shirt tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“You deaf or something? Be ready by 12 or you’re dead.”

Suddenly, you were wide awake, struggling to understand what just happened. Your rounded eyes followed him in shock as he walked to his room with his hands in his pockets.

The next morning, you woke up early to wash the smell of tea off and freshen up your hair. It still hadn’t mentally processed that Bakugou of all people invited you to go to the mall with him. You imagined he simply didn’t want to owe you for ruining your nice shirt, which was very much like him. Kaminari and Sero always teased him about having a “soft spot” for you but you refused to see it. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a small buzz of adrenaline in your veins as you got dressed. You chose to fashion a flowy, elegantly patterned blouse and flared vintage jeans, paired with bracelets and flat shoes. Finally, you threw on a simple necklace and headed to the common room at 11:50. Lo and behold, Bakugou stood waiting, focused on his watch.

“Bakugou, I’m here. Let’s go?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice and his eyes immediately darted across your outfit. A red shine on your chest caught his eye—a necklace with a ruby stone.

His outfit caught your eye as well. Baggy denim jeans and a black hoodie adorned with a flashy tiger design. You caught a glimpse of a silver chain around his neck as well. You had to admit, he was pretty stylish. The way your eyes slowly trailed from his shoes to his eyes made his hairs stand up.

“…You were almost late!” He shouted.

“Dude, I’m 10 minutes early.”

“Whatever. Let’s just go already,” he rolled his eyes, spinning his keychain around his index finger.

The two of you arrived at the mall and he immediately took you to the one shop he knew you always went to. You had been to the mall with him many times before, but only in a group, so being here with just him felt new.

“Get whatever you want,” he grunted.

“You can also shop around, you know. They have a pretty good men’s selection. Pretty emo stuff. I think you’d like it.”

“I’m not emo, asshole!”

Nevertheless, two of you split-off to look for your own clothes. The racks were adorned with babydoll tops, lace tanks, and patterned shirts. On the shelves were flared jeans, long skirts, and denim shorts. You wanted to buy the whole store, but with your measly internship and patrol funds, you could really only afford one or two items. Even two was pushing it. You settled for a replacement for the white top that Bakugou ruined—a wide sleeve gray-ish wrap top. You made your way to the register and found that Bakugou was waiting in line with a black shirt in hand.

“What’re you getting?” You asked him, pointing at the shirt.

He grunted and held it up for you. A black shirt with a sword design on the back. You couldn’t help but wear a disgustingly smug expression.

“I told you you’d like the emo stuff.”

“I’ll kill you!”

Finally after him, it was your turn to pay. He waited next to you as you fished for your wallet in your cluttered bag.

“Ugh, can you hold this for a sec?” You grunted as you handed him the shirt.

You kept digging for another minute before you finally found your flimsy wallet. “Jeez, sorry, I got—”

You stared blankly as you saw Bakugou grabbing your bagged shirt, the employee telling him to have a nice day.

“You stupid? Let’s go,” he deadpanned.

You walked out of the line with the same confused face. “Dude, did you just pay for me?!”

“Who cares?!”

All you could do was stammer at him with a half-angry half-confused expression. Before you could gather your words, he walked away.

“Hey! Bakugou, come on, let me pay you back,” you insisted, chasing after him.

“I owed you, remember?! It’s whatever. And I saw the faces you were making at the price tags.”

“That’s not the poi… oh fine, whatever. I guess you kinda did owe me,” you sighed.

He raised his brows at you to rub in the fact that he was right. “Uh-huh. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

You chuckled at how easily he changed the subject, and your smiling eyes met his for seconds too long.

“…Okay. And thank you, Bakugou. For that and for taking me here. This is really thoughtful. I like this side of you.”

You only realized how intimate that sounded after it came out of your mouth. Before he could react, you speed-walked to the food court, wincing with embarrassment. He quickly followed behind with beet red ears and a concentrated stare. The way you never expected him to react rudely made his heart twist with a strange feeling. Everyone talked to him like he was a ticking time bomb, which he could be, but you spoke to him like you expected him to be mature. It spoke levels about your own maturity, as well as your expectations of him. You were never looking down on him. It made it easier for him to be himself around you instead of constantly holding up a shield of false perceptions and toxic masculinity.

As you both ate, you came to an unspoken agreement that you would pretend none of that happened. Still, he couldn’t stop replaying those words in his head with giddiness. It almost made him sick how full his heart felt when he stared at you fiddling with your chopsticks, ranting about a new fighting technique you wanted to try.

“—and it should increase the impact tenfold from that angle, especially with the spinning and stuff… are you even listening?” You paused, squinting at his half-lidded eyes that wandered aimlessly over your face.

“Yeah. Train with me when we get back. Try it out. I wanna try somethin’ new too.”

You smiled at him with gratitude. It seemed like he was one of the only people who actually wanted to listen to your rants.

“Okay, thank you,” you breathed out.

On your way home, the two of you got on the train back to the dorms. The sun had begun to set and the sky was painted with vivid golden hues. The glowing, billowy tufts of clouds almost seemed fake as bright rays peeked through them and illuminated the city below. The two of you hopped onto the train and you tugged his sleeve with a smile.

"Come here. I know a good spot on this train."

Dragging him to the very back of the train and silencing his protests, you stopped at the very back seats facing a large window that covered the entire back-end of the train. It displayed a grand view of the entire city and the sky above. You hopped onto a seat and patted the spot next to you, signaling him to sit.

He sat down roughly and crossed his arms. "How'd you even find this spot?"

"I come here often," you shrugged.

As the train started, you stared at the golden sun through the wide window. The sky was now colored with magical pinks and rays of gold. A cluster of clouds gathered into a nebula of sun rays and cotton-like purples. The magical scene lifted the corners of your mouth into a small smile as you became enraptured by the view.

As Bakugou stared at the sky with a soft gaze, a bright color beside him caught his eye. The beams of light penetrated the windows and lit your skin and hair with a radiant hue, your ruby necklace twinkling as well. Yet the only thing he could see was your small smile and bright eyes. You turned your head to him suddenly, causing his eyes to shoot forward.

"It's nice, right?" you asked with raised brows.

"...Yeah."

Your finger fiddled with your hair slowly. "When I was a kid, this was my favorite part of the whole day. Sometimes the only reason I got out of bed was because I knew I would see this if I could just make it through the day."

"What the hell? That's depressing."

"Is it? I find it comforting. No matter what happens, however bad it might seem, the sun will always rise and set, so long as you're alive to see it."

He gazed silently for a minute, watching as the sun slowly dipped behind the skyline. Without thinking, his hand reached over his pumping heart.

"So long as you're alive to see it, huh?" he thought.

You noticed how his hand rested over his heart. The same heart he lost once. You hoped your words didn't ignite the pain in him, but rather fill his heart with gratitude. Gratitude, to you, was one of the best feelings in the world. What could be more comforting than knowing you have something to be grateful for?

You heard a soft scoff beside you and turned to look at Bakugou.

"Can't believe I'm actually enjoying a train ride. I used to dread them. They were always like an annoying loading screen to me. I was just waiting helplessly to get from one thing to the next. Guess real life has no loading screens. Every moment is an opportunity, huh?"

Your eyes focused on his every word. "Hmm... every moment is an opportunity. I never thought about it like that. Seize the moment. That's totally something you'd say."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" he glared at your smirking face.

"It's a compliment, I swear. You're a tenacious person. I think it's cool."

"You mean you think I'm cool."

"So you care what I think about you?"

His eyes widened for a split second before he spat out another scoff. "Not in a million years!"

“Geez, could ya stare any harder?” Mina’s voice was a sing-song purr right next to your ear.

You flinched away, your face instantly burning with embarrassment.

Damn it, caught red-handed.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to turn away from her. “Mind your own business…”

“Oh girl this is my business.” Mina was one of the very few people in class who knew about your unyielding, borderline painful crush on the loud, abrasive blonde. For countless days and nights, she listened to you rave about the subtle glances or grunts of acknoledgment that made your heart pond day in and day out. What killed her was that you didn’t do anything about it.

The pink skinned girl snorted just as Kyoka walked into our line of sight, twisting her elongated earlobe. “We’re not getting any younger, ya know,” Kyoka murmured. “You planning on telling him at all before graduation?”

You shook your head, staring down at your dirt-stained boots. “It’s not that simple.”

“What’s not?” Uraraka poked her head into the conversation, eyes wide with curiously.

You let out a soft groan.

“Trouble in paradise,” Mina supplied vaguely. You shot her a sharp glare, to which she quickly held her hands up in mock surrender. The girls shared a quiet giggle, but the conversation was cut short as Aizawa-sensei called everyone in. With training officially over, the class went to the locker rooms to change before heading to the dorms.

The second you stepped into the heights alliance dorm building that evening, the familiar chaos of Class 3-A swallowed you whole. Most of your classmates were already gathered in the common area, or shuffling around in the kitchen.

“You idiot!” You perked your head up at the voice.

“How d’you not know how to cut an onion?!” Bakugo erupted from the kitchen island, spewing insults directly into Kaminari’s panicked face.

“I’m doing my best, man! They make my eyes water!”

Pressing your lips together to hide a smile, you walked over to the duo. “What are we making?” you asked softly. Bakugo didn’t look up.

“It’s katsudon night!” Kirishima answered for him from the counter a few feet away.

You nodded, shifting your weight. “Can I help?”

“Cut the carrots.” Bakugo barked.

“Okay!” you answered, the words tumbling out almost too quickly. Catching his irritated expression, you pulled your shoulders forward.

That was actually embarrassing never do that again, you chided yourself.

Your hands moved swiftly, cutting the vegetables into even slices. He had taught you how to properly cut them once before. Your mind wandered back to the training camp during your first year—the way his calloused, warm hands had briefly moved over yours to correct your grip. It was the closest he’d ever been to you. The first time you had ever touched without it being a quick punch or a block during combat training.

“How much more you got?”

The voice snapped you out of your reminiscing. You flinched, suddenly aware of his chest hovering just behind your shoulder as he leaned in to inspect your work. “Uh—uh…almost done,” you managed to get out.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, satisfied enough not to yell, and moved away to go scold Kaminari for something instead.

When dinner was finally ready, you helped Bakugo plate the food, only because he claimed you were “less clumsy” than Kaminari and Kirishima combined. This was the only time you and he were really alone, but your tongue bit back the temptation to say anything. Your eyes trailed up his arms. Those strong, toned forearms that he constantly overworked.

Now you just felt like a weirdo.

“Plates,” he said, holding out a hand without looking at you. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring again. You hurriedly reached into the upper cabinet. “Right, sorry. Here.” You mumbled, passing the heavy ceramic dishes over.

You took a seat a few spots down from Bakugo, trying your absolute best to just focus on your food. You stole occasional glances towards his direction, but all the while keeping your ears open to the familiar chatter of your classmates. It was so exhausting dealing with these stupid feelings. You had assumed by your third year that this silly crush would have just fizzled away into thin air, but every single time Katsuki Bakugo looked in your direction, you felt like you were back at square one. As dinner wound down, the heavy silence of your own thoughts broke at Kaminari’s words.

“Man, Bakugo, your cooking is seriously top-tier. Honestly whoever ends up marrying you is going to luck out. You’re like…ultimate husband material, minus the anger issues.” He sits in his chair casually, hanging his arm over the back of Kyoka’s chair with a smug expression on his face.

A few laughed, and Mina immediately leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, totally! Have you ever even thought about what your love life in the future might look like?”

You froze, your chopsticks pausing halfway to your mouth.

Bakugo let out a harsh, mocking scoff. “Don’t say disgusting shit while im trying to digest,” he snapped, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glare across the table. “I don’t have time for that sentimental garbage.”

“Ouch, brutal.” Kirishima chuckled nervously. “You’re not even a little bit curious?”

“No.” Was all the blonde responded with before everyone went back to digging in their plates.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you process the words that came out of his mouth. Mina gives you a look, but makes sure to pull her eyes away so nobody notices the exchange.

When you went to your room, you threw yourself on your bed and shuffled to flip so you were laying on your back. Your hands rested on your abdomen while you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows knit tightly as you recalled Bakugo’s words.

He didn’t really mean what he had said, right?

You wanted to believe it was just his usual bravado, but he had always put his goals and dreams above anything else. Above himself. It made sense that he’d scoff at the idea of future romances when his focus was entirely on success in the hero industry.

That was Katsuki Bakugo for you.