Latest Posts by storiestoobsessover - Page 10

you the plug?

feat: college au izuku midoriya x plug!reader

warnings / cache notes: language, smoking, drug use, college au

req📌: ❌ this one’s for you, rue & leigh <3

m.list

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

Leather and Lace

BikerBakugou x Ballet instructor

Part 3

(All photos are from Pinterest)

(Long blurb are we surprised?)

The annoying ‘click clack’ of Mina’s heals echoed off the concrete as the three of you made your way to where Kiri said Bakugou had parked. You wished Jiro would have wanted to meet outside or literally anywhere else, considering that the owner of the car you were meeting at already assumed you followed him around. But just as you consider pulling your phone out to text her a new meet up location, Jiro and her bandmates come into view and you have to convince yourself not to sigh unhappily.

Jiro was thankfully the first to notice you approaching, her eyes lighting up as you offer a friendly wave. Jiro would never admit it to anyone, but knowing her friends came to support her even at small gigs like this- meant the absolute world to her. So, once you’re close enough, she’s pulling you into a bone crushing hug and letting out a soft laugh.

“Hey! Did you like the set?” Her voice was full of excitement and hopeful curiosity, she’d changed the set so you would enjoy at least one song and wanted to know it proved effective. “We practiced all week, so I hope it didn’t sound too off.”

“No, it was awesome.” You offer, pulling her at arms length to see her beaming grin once again. “You’re a natural born talent, and I loved the new song.”

“What about the rest of us?” You step away from your overjoyed friend to allow Mina to pull her into a hug. “You know Kirishima.”

Did she? How were all of your friends so connected when you hadn’t even seen Kirishima around before Mina introduced you? Even Bakugou, he knew your neighbor and youre bestfriend but you hadn’t met him until recently either.

Speaking of Bakugou.

“Following me to my car now?” His arrogant taunt sent heat to your cheeks as everyone turns to look in your direction. You hadn’t told Mina about your texts with the blond, so even she seemed entirely confused. “Let me guess, going to watch me race again too?”

“I was asked to meet here, firstly.” Your voice shakes but you don’t let yourself look away from his accusing eyes, it’s not like you’re afraid of this guy. “Secondly- no, I’m not. I’m going to hang out with Jiro, not that it’s your business.”

Silence falls around you all too quickly, the only sound traveling between the group of you being a sarcastic exhale from Bakugou. In the seconds that silences consumes you, you find yourself taking in his appearance. His dark jeans and black hoodie fitting perfectly with his irritating personality, the only thing throwing you off were the bright red sneakers he wore on his feet. Finally, after a few very uncomfortable seconds, Denki clears his throat to speak up. Instantly making your eyes roll and your hands form fists at your sides.

“We’re actually, uh- going to watch.” Denki rubs the back of his neck as you try not to let your frustration show. Of course they were. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other.”

“We don’t, she just follows me around.” Bakugou scoffs, leaning against the black frame of the car you stood in front of. You’d temporarily forgotten where you were and why you were here, noticing how calm he seemed pressing his back against the drivers door and crossing his arms. “You’re not riding with me.”

“I wasn’t going to ask to?” You all but shrink back in disgust. Why would he ever assume you’d ask him for a ride? “And I’m not following you, you literally show up at my house multiple times a week.”

“That’s enough you two.” Mina finally steps in, a smile playing at her shiny lips as her eyes move between the two of you. She was likely forming ideas in her head that you were not looking forward to hearing about at a later point in time. “She’ll ride with us, Kay?”

“W-what? I’m not-.”

-

And that’s how you ended up in the abandoned parking lot behind an old mall that hadn’t been open in years, surrounded by strangers and picking at your nails. There were nearly double the amount of people littering the center of the center of the unlit lot than had been at the last race you’d let yourself get dragged to. Whistles and laughs filling the cold air that seemed to suffocate you with every passing second. Crowds weren’t your thing, especially not illegal ones.

“So how do you know him?” Jiro asks, looking to the make shift starting line where her bandmate sat on his bike waiting. His helmet was off and a dark haired woman stood beside him with her hand on his arm and a grin on her face. He seemed unphased and uninterested as the woman leaned closer and laughed. “And why did he say you’ve been following him?”

You didn’t want to go into details of your poorly rated encounters with someone she clearly considered a friend. So instead you shrug and check the time on your phone nervously. You’d been here nearly 30 minutes, and with every passing minute you feel an unsettling feeling crawling up your back. Something felt off, and your stomach hadn’t stopped twisting nervously since you realized it.

“He’s friends with my neighbor somehow, that’s how we met.” You sigh, noticing her clear determination to dig any information out from the depths of your silence. “I’ve gone a few places with Mina and he’s been there too and just assumes I’ve followed him or something- I don’t know, he’s a dick.”

“He’s actually not that bad once you get to know him.” Her nonchalant shrug does little convince you, but you press your lips together with a nod, scanning the crowed for Mina or Kirishima. They’d been gone for a while ‘using the bathroom’ You hoped the race would start soon and didn’t want them to miss it. “Have you seen-?”

“COPS!” Your heart drops the second the call comes from the opposite end of the parking lot, causing your blood to run ice cold. Flashing lights dance across the crowed that now moves frantically around you, your body being pushed and shoved in every direction as your worried eyes meet Jiros. “COPS ARE COMING!”

“Shit.” Jiro hisses, reaching for your wrist and watching panic ensue around where you stand rooted to the pavement. “We need to go find Denki-.”

You knew coming here was a mistake, that something bad was going to happen if you did- but even so you came and now you were stunned. Jiro pulls desperately on your wrist, struggling to pull you along between the bodies that fly by you in a panic. A particularly hard shove from a terrified stranger causes her grip to loosen and your body to hit the pavement below.

Your hands immediately fly to cover your head, feeling the ground rattling beneath you as the last of the crowd make their way around you and to what ever direction they’d chose to run in. A few feet clip you, small kicks or shoves causing your body to curl into itself until you’re finally able to pull yourself to your feet and look around the nearly vacant lot.

Jiro was gone, and in the distance you see headlights pulling away and disappearing in the opposite direction. Panic consumes your every thought, did they leave without you? Were you about to be arrested? What if one of those police sirens belongs to your father? How is-?

“Why the hell are you just standing here you fucking idiot!” A tug on your arm pulls yourself back to reality, causing your heart to both race and calm down. At least you weren’t alone. “Get on and let’s go.”

“Wait, I-.” You can feel every inch of your body shaking as you look up from the ground to meet Bakugous angry eyes. Why did he stay? “I-I can’t.”

“You’ll be arrested if you don’t.” His voice was even, but as he looks behind you, you can see the worry in his eyes. You mimic a fish out of water, watching as he turns his helmet in his hands and steps closer. “You goin to listen to me or stay here?”

Without an answer, he pushes the helmet over your head, causing the hair you’d worn down to tug tightly at your scalp. The flashing lights were getting closer, and his hand was reaching for yours and tugging you toward his bike that you hadn’t even heard pull up beside you just seconds ago. This can’t be happening.

Bakugou swings a leg over the bike, looking to you as you pull your shaking hands to your chest. This may be normal for him, but running from the police isn’t something you’d ever done before so your anxiety had lodged your heart into your throat and you could feel fearful tears welling in the corner of your eyes. You were thankful the dark tent of the helmets window made your worried expression invisible to Bakugou who reaches forward to tug on your shirt.

“Just sit, hold on, and don’t fucking cry.” His barked order earns a flinch, but you listen. You have to listen. You copy his previous his actions and sit on the black leather, pressing yourself into his back to make wrapping your arms around his torso easier. “Don’t fall off ‘cause I ain’t coming back for you again.”

The second the threat leaves his lips, you feel the bike rattle below you and your body being tugged backwards. It’s hard, but you keep your arms around him and your helmet covered head pressed to his back as the cold wind bites against your exposed skin with. You’d never been on a motorcycle, so the feeling of exposure makes your stomach uneasy and your head spin.

With the fear of being caught, or flying off the back of his bike weighing heavily on your thoughts you find yourself clamping your eyes shut and doing your best to ignore the racing wind in around you or the rapid thud of your heartbeat in your ears as he continues to drive down the road you’d taken to get there.

With every turn, lean and huff you can feel your anxiety growing quickly. The sirens fade as Bakugou puts distance between you but the fear of being caught still remained, even after the bike had begin to slow down and your palm pressing into his chest could feel his surprisingly even heart beat. You were terrified, and being pressed against him did nothing to calm you down.

“You okay back there?” You can feel his chest vibrating as he looks over his shoulder, but you don’t dare open your eyes. You were still moving, and your legs had begun to tingle from the vibration of the bike combined with genuine fear. “Loosen your grip, it’s hard to steer.”

Without a word, you loosen your grip, giving his chest room to expand fully before he takes another turn. You do your best to ignore the warmth of his back against your chest, but it’s the only thing you find comfort in as sirens blare in the distance. He was here, alive and the only reason you weren’t still stood in that parking lot being arrested. Maybe Jiro was right.

“You good?” He asks, the bike coming to a complete stop a few moments later. Where were you? You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes to even attempt to find out. The sound of scraping metal and quiet machinery sounds from in front of you and you quickly piece together you’re in front of a garage door. “Go on to the door, I’ll meet you up there in a second.”

You have to force yourself to open your eyes, the fear that a police officer will be waiting for you preventing you from doing so for a few short seconds. As they open you remove your arms from around his torso and quickly remove yourself from the bike so he can drive it into the nearly empty garage he’d stopped in front of. Was this his house?

The house was large, with a winding walkway that leads you to a red door. You feel out of place standing beside the place mat, but you had no clue where you were so you would have to follow his instructions and wait by the door. The neighborhood seemed nice, cookie cutter houses lining the street that stretched on past your line of site as you pull the helmet from your head and reach to smooth your hair down.

“Don’t say a word, got it?” He barks, pulling a key from his key ring. How wasn’t he flustered? Did he truly have enough run ins like this that it wasn’t at all worrying for him? “If anyone asks- you like my band. Don’t say a word about what the hell just happened- got it?”

You nod nervously, unsure what you were walking into as his key jams into the lock and twists. With his helmet in your sweaty hand, you follow him into the pitch black house and sigh a sigh of relief once the door closes behind you. You may be in a strangers home, with no clue which direction you lived in, but at least the police weren’t chasing you and your heart hadn’t burst from your chest.

“Hey, you’re in late.” A female voice comes from the too of the stair case Bakugou was already walking up. “Oh- you brought a friend.”

“Hi, I’m-.” You try to be polite as you follow him, offering the pretty blonde girl a smile before Bakugou turns around to glare in your direction. If looks could kill, you’d be flatlining. “Wha-.”

“Go bother your boyfriend and fuck off.” He snaps, turning to glare at the girl while reaching for your wrist. She seemed about your age, and not phased with Bakugou shoulder checking her as he reached the top of the stair case. Were they… roommates then? “The only thing I said was not to say a word and you couldn’t even listen.”

Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness as he pulls you down a long hallway. Still, in the darkness you can make out hung photos on either side of the hallway, lining it all the way until the very end where he was now turning and reaching for a door handle.

“Why the hell did you just stand there like an idiot?” He wastes no time, glaring into your soul the second you’re pulled into the room and he switches in the light beside the door. “Why weren’t you with your friends?”

“I-I.” You can’t find a single thing to say, feeling your hands still shaking as you look around the small room he’d pulled you into. “I-Is this your house?”

“No- I just broke in.” You ignore his scoff and let yourself take in the room in front of you. It was simple, a full bed with black bedding, a small beside table and a black desk on the opposite wall. The desk was covered in text books, resembling the walls that had been covered in posters. “Do sit down and calm the hell down- I can feel your bones rattling all the way from here.”

He sits in the chair in front of the desk, swiveling to face you as you sit on the edge of his unmade bed and reach for your hair nervously. You can’t even focus on the fact that you hated this guy I and now you were in his bed room- because all you could think about was the fear you felt and the small part of you that buzzed with excitement in the aftermath of your getaway ride.

“They won’t know who you are.” Bakugou grumbles, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and taking in your shaken expression. “I’m ordering you an uber, what I did is never to be discussed with anyone.”

“O-okay.” You mumble, grip the fabric of his comforter below you. You can’t help but wonder why he didn’t want anyone to know he’d helped you, but you don’t question him. He’d probably just snap and the conversation would go no where anyway, so you sit quietly on his bed and ignore your phone that buzzed in your back pocket. “Uh-what do I tell Jiro and Mina when they ask how I got away?”

“Anything that will keep my name out of your mouth.”

———

I’ll probably go back and edit this eventually.

!!TAGS ARE CLOSED!!

-Parchy

———

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hey so what if you maybe sorta write another secret admirer smau for denki… and i kiss you..

who’s this? (denki version)

d.kaminari

-in which an unknown number claims to be in love with you

Pages Left to Fill 💕⋆｡°✩ Shoto Todoroki

Masterlist ୨ৎ

It's Shoto's first Valentine's with you, and he's determined to get you the 'correct' gift.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : Happy Valentines !!!

Warnings :Female!Reader, reader is a GF, established relationship, slight suggestiveness, big texting section, honestly just really fluffy

W/C : ~3.2k

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

Sometimes, Shoto can be a little socially inept. 

He knows this. He knows it stems from his isolated upbringing, his complicated family dynamic—though he hates how often he has to attribute parts of himself to that.  But being at UA helped, being surrounded by more ‘normal’ people (if you could say that?) was helping. He’s learning, slowly but surely, and he finds himself enjoying all these new experiences, even if he’s a little late to them.

Enter you. 

You’ve only been dating him for a few weeks, barely enough time for him to grasp the basics of being someone’s boyfriend. But he wants to get it right, especially with Valentine’s Day just three days away.

He never thought much of it before. It was just another date on the calendar, something he associated more with pink-themed store displays than anything meaningful. But now, it feels important. A chance to prove himself to you, to show that this relationship is worth your time. That he doesn’t need you to guide him through everything.

Now it’s a day where he’s supposed to do something special for you.

For the first time in a long time, Shoto Todoroki feels out of his depth. 

He has no idea where to start.

Unfortunately, none of his friends seem like they’d have good advice. The only one who crossed his mind for a second was Denki, but that idea was immediately discarded. He could already imagine the kind of advice he’d get, some overly complicated plan involving sunglasses and, for some reason, an unnecessary explosion.

Which brings him to now, Tuesday morning, staring at Natsuo’s contact.

He’s pretty sure Natsuo has a girlfriend, or at least some experience in romantic endeavors. In their limited interactions, Shoto has picked up on a few subtle signs. There were the late-night phone calls he’d catch Natsuo having in the garden, the way his older brother’s face would turn bright red when he thought no one was watching. Then there was the time he overheard Natsuo asking Fujumi for advice on gifts around Christmas—specifically romantic gifts. And, of course, there was that one unfortunate day when Shoto happened to notice a collection of what he could only describe as… love marks on Natsuo’s neck, which left him quietly questioning his brother's life choices for the rest of the week.

So, with all this information he has gathered, Shoto decides Natsuo is the best course of action. He did briefly consider asking Fujumi for advice, but something told him she’d get far too excited and blow everything out of proportion. She’d probably give him a long lecture too. He doesn’t want that. He just needs a little guidance. 

The phone rings once, and then twice, and then he’s sent to voicemail. Shoto pouts down at the screen. Before he can go to google as his second choice for help, a text comes through first. 

[9:03 AM] Natsuo: Sorry, man, I’m in class right now. What’s up?

This feels strange, asking for relationship advice. He’s not used to talking about this kind of thing, especially with his brother. After a few seconds, he types:

[9:04 AM] Shoto: I need help with Valentines day.

The reply comes quickly:

[9:06 AM] Natsuo: Valentine’s Day?

[9:08 AM] Natsuo: Wait... are you dating someone? Since when??

Oh, he forgot that he hadn’t told his family yet. He wasn’t planning on telling anyone until things felt a little more serious. But I guess asking these sort of questions made it somewhat inevitable. 

[9:10 AM] Shoto: Yeah. I have a girlfriend. We have only been dating for 3 weeks. 

[9:11 AM] Shoto: Please don’t tell anyone yet.

[9:13 AM] Natsuo: Alright, alright, I won’t say anything. I get it. 

For some reason, in this moment, Shoto feels his heart warm a little. He’s never really had the true brotherly relationship. But this feels normal for them, domestic.

[9:15 AM] Shoto: Thanks.

[9:17 AM] Natsuo: Haha! So serious! Dont sweat it lil bro!

Nevermind, Shoto scowls, he hates his big brother. 

[9:19 AM] Shoto: Can you give me advice now. 

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Ah, right, the actual reason you texted me.

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Hmm. Try not to overdo it, since it’s still early. 

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Maybe try something lowkey but personal? 

[9:22 AM] Natsuo: Don’t overthink it, dude. I’m sure at this early stage the fact you are even trying to do anything will be appreciated! 

[9:23 AM] Shoto: Can you give me an example? Just so I’m sure I’m on the same page.

[9:25 AM] Natsuo: Hm… okay. Like a handwritten card? Or a picture of you both? Sum like that. 

Shoto’s mind goes blank for a second.

[9:26 AM] Shoto: That seems too simple. 

[9:26 AM] Shoto: Have you ever been in a relationship? 

[9:28 AM] Natsuo: Going to pretend that wasn’t rude! 😒

Shoto’s brow furrows.

[9:28 AM] Natsuo: But yeah, I’ve been in a few. Trust me, the simple stuff always hits.

[9:30 AM] Shoto: I’ll try it. Thanks.

[9:31 AM] Natsuo: Anytime bro! One more think tho.

[9:32 AM] Natsuo: Since you're dating now... uh,  just don’t forget to be... responsible, okay?

Shoto frowns at the screen. [9:37 AM] Shoto: Responsible?

[9:39 AM] Natsuo: You know what i mean! Haha 

[9:41 AM] Shoto: No I do not. 

Natsuo’s reply comes quickly, almost too quickly.

[9:43 AM] Natsuo: Look, I’m just saying. Protection and all that. Haha

Shoto’s eyes widen, the full realization dawning on him. His face flushes red instantly.

[9:43 AM] Shoto: I do not need this advice. Thank you. 

Natsuo doesn’t stop there.

[9:45 AM] Natsuo: Hey, I’m just trying to help. You’re my little brother!!!

Shoto stares at the screen, blinking rapidly, his face still flushed.

[9:47 AM] Shoto: I appreciate it. But I’m fine.

[9:47 AM] Shoto: Maybe speak to your sexual endeavours about this. 

[9:50 AM] Natsuo: what???!??

[9:47 AM] Shoto: To stop biting you.

[9:52 AM] Natsuo: You know what, I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that.

Shoto quickly types, trying to change the subject before it gets any worse.

[9:54 AM] Shoto: Anyway, thanks for the other advice. I’ll try what you suggested.

So, something personal huh? 

~ 

Which brings Shoto to Thursday afternoon, the day before Valentine’s Day.

So far, he thinks he’s managed to keep his plans for you under wraps. Maybe a little too well—because just yesterday, during one of your usual study dates, you had paused mid-note-taking, tapped your pen against your lip, and tilted your head at him.

"You’ve been too quiet lately."

He had blinked at you, unsure how to respond. I’m always quiet wouldn’t exactly work when you already knew him well enough to see through him.

It was... cute, in a way. How easily you picked up on his shifts in mood, even when he thought he was being subtle. He didn’t really know what to do with that kind of attention. But he liked it.

He just hoped you didn’t suspect anything yet.

Anyway, today for mission valentine, he is in the mall.

He ended up taking Natsuos advice somewhat, taking the time to write a detailed and heartfelt card with his feelings to you, but something was still missing. He knew to get flowers, ordering a custom bunch on Tuesday night to be delivered in time (Thank you Endeavour name drop), but despite Natsuos advice to keep it ‘lowkey’ he was on the lookout for a little more.

He’d been wandering around the mall for the last twenty minutes now, his frown growing more pronounced with time. How do I put this feeling into words? How do I show her how important she is to me? How long I’ve waited for this…

He stops in front of a tourist stand. Surely, a trip is too much…

“Shoto???”

His head snaps up at the familiar voice, crinkling the leaflet in his hand as he turns. But the flash of green quickly eases his heart.

Midoriya.

Shoto exhales, releasing tension as his friend approaches, eyes bright with curiosity.

“I thought that was you!” Midoriya says, stopping beside him. His gaze drops to the crumpled leaflet in Shoto’s hand, curiosity flickering across his face. “Uh… are you planning a trip?”

Shoto follows Midoriya’s gaze down to the brochure in his grip—some kind of couples' getaway package, complete with scenic resorts and heart-shaped chocolates. His expression remains neutral, but internally, he’s horrified.

“No.” He drops it back onto the stand like it burned him.

Midoriya blinks before smiling. “Oh! Are you here for Valentine’s Day shopping?”

Shoto doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough.

Midoriya’s eyes widen. “Wait… you are?! Does that mean—do you have a girlfriend?”

Shoto feels a strange mix of emotions—mild regret for being spotted, slight panic at the idea of the entire class finding out before he’s ready, and, underneath it all, a small, hesitant sense of pride. Because yes. Yes, he does.

“…Yes,” he admits at last.

Midoriya gasps, practically vibrating in place. “Shoto! That’s amazing! Who is it? How did I not realize?! I mean, I thought you were smiling at your phone more, but—”

Shoto feels his face heat up as Midoriya rattles off every small detail he had apparently noticed. The way he texted more. The way he seemed lighter. The way he—

“—just kind of smile at nothing sometimes?” Midoriya gestures vaguely.

Shoto presses his lips together. Was it really that obvious?

Midoriya suddenly gasps again, eyes practically glowing. “Wait, does that mean this is your first Valentine’s Day with her?! That’s so special, Shoto!”

Shoto exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”

Midoriya’s enthusiasm doesn’t waver. “Okay, okay, no pressure! But what’s your plan? Do you need help picking something?”

Shoto hesitates. He doesn’t mind Midoriya knowing—he’s probably the safest person to tell, outside of Natsuo. But still, something about sharing this part of his life makes his throat feel tight.

“…I have a card,” he says slowly. “And flowers. But I wanted something more personal.”

Midoriya hums in thought. “Something personal… Oh! What about an experience? Like a day out or something—maybe not a whole trip though...”

Shoto pauses. His mind flickers back to a few weeks ago—how your eyes had lit up when you talked about that one artist. The way you always played their music during study dates, humming absentmindedly, completely lost in the moment. He remembers the song playing in the background as you gently traced your fingers along his face, both of you hesitating, then leaning in for a soft, tentative first kiss. The way you had giggled afterward, your smile so warm it made his chest ache.

“…I know what to get,” he says, turning on his heel.

Midoriya blinks. “Oh! Okay! Do you want me to come with—”

“No.”

Midoriya chuckles. “Alright, alright! Good luck, Shoto! And, um, if you ever wanna talk about—” He gestures vaguely, expression warm. “You know. Relationships. I’m happy to listen.”

Shoto gives him a nod—one that, after a moment, carries a little more meaning than just goodbye. 

~

Friday morning, Valentine's day. He had woken up to a good morning text from you, and motivation messages from both Natsuo and Midorya. And suddenly he was nervous in a whole different way. 

It wasn’t like him to be uncertain. But there was something about today, about this. Every time you looked his way, his chest tightened. His fingers would flex in his lap, as if he could do something with that energy.

The problem was, he couldn’t seem to get a moment alone with you. The entire class was buzzing, and as the day went on, his nerves grew. How was he supposed to give you the gift without feeling awkward? He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to give a present to someone he cared about. What if it wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t right?

But then, at lunch, the bell rang, and that was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. The class broke apart, but his eyes found you instantly.

He took a breath, gathered his thoughts, and stood. You hadn’t noticed yet, so he took the opportunity to walk over to where you were standing.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and when you turned to him, there was that familiar warmth in your gaze that made his heart beat a little faster.

“Hey,” you replied, the smile tugging at your lips.

“I…” He hesitated, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. It felt strange to be so out of his element. “I have something for you.”

“Really?”, your eyes widened for just a moment, the surprise softening into something warmer.

He looked at the ground for a second, clearing his throat. “I... I wanted to give it to you, but... maybe... somewhere quieter?”

You tilted your head, sensing his nervousness, and nodded with a soft smile. "Of course, Shoto."

A few moments later, Shoto and you were perched under a bright tree, the sun out as he watched his classmates flutter around. You were looking at him expectantly, but not with judgement, a slight blush across your face. Now or never, huh?

His hand shook ever so slightly as he reached into his bag and handed you the envelope. He avoided your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face despite himself.

You carefully opened it, scanning the card. He could feel your attention on him, the way you were taking in the words he had carefully written. His throat felt tight, but he waited, watching the way your expression softened.

“This is… really thoughtful, Shoto,” you said, your voice gentle.

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was strange to hear someone speak to him like that—like he had actually done something right. “I wasn’t sure if…” He stopped, unsure of how to finish. “I wanted to make sure it was right.”

You smiled at him again, this time the warmth more tangible. “It’s perfect,” you said, and there was something in the way you said it that made his heart calm, just a little.

Without thinking too much about it, Shoto pulled out the second part of the gift—the tickets. “There’s… one more thing.”

You looked at the tickets, then back at him, confusion flickering across your face for a split second before it was replaced by recognition.

“These are for the concert?” you asked, shock creeping onto your face.

Shoto nodded, his expression as neutral as he could make it, though he could feel the tension in his shoulders. “I remembered you mentioned wanting to go,” he said. “I thought… if you still wanted to, we could go together.”

You blinked, clearly surprised. For a moment, Shoto was afraid you might not like it—but then your smile grew wider, and it felt like the weight had finally lifted from his chest.

“Shoto, this … this is too much! You didn’t need to do all of this for me..”

“I did,” he said simply, looking at the tickets. “I wanted you to be able to go.” And, selfishly he thought, he wanted more alone time with you. As much as he could manage.

You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing against his. “Thank you,” 

He nodded, a faint flush creeping up his neck, it had all been worth it. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it, Sho…” You looked away for a moment, cheeks flushing slightly, before murmuring, “But this totally overshadows mine…”

Shoto blinked, “What...?” he asked, a little surprised.

“I didn’t know we were doing big gifts, okay?” you raised your hands up, like trying to defend yourself. “So I just made you something, it’s just little and—”

His heart softened, for some reason he didn’t even consider you would also get him a gift. He stepped a little closer, catching your gaze. “I’m sure whatever you made is perfect.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. 

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. "I… hope you like it," you said, a little uncertain.

"I’m sure I will." He took the box from you carefully, his fingers brushing yours for a second as he did, looking up from the box to your gaze, making sure to keep this memory burned into his mind.

He gently opened the box, not wanting to disturb your work, before moving the tissue paper out of the way. He paused.

It was a scrapbook.

It was small, about the size of a small notebook, with the first picture of you both plastered on the front page, surrounded by little stickers. His hands trembled slightly as he held it, the weight of it making his chest feel heavier than usual.

His thumb traced over the cover, heart thudding in his chest.

“It’s not finished yet!” you sputtered, nerves bubbling up. “I’ve only filled in the first few pages, but I was thinking we could fill it in together and—” As you spoke, his fingers flicked through the first pages. There it was—your first date, the receipt from the boba store, the cinema tickets. As he flipped through, a soft, warm feeling began to bloom in his chest. It was clear now what Natsuo meant. Personal gifts, something with real meaning, were truly unbeatable.

Shoto could barely speak, eyes tracing over each little detail you’d added. 

“I…” He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat as he searched for the right words. “This... this means a lot.”

He met your gaze, his chest tightening with something more than gratitude. Everything he had felt in the last few (amazing, complicated) weeks surged to the surface. You’re mine. He had someone who took the time to do this for him, someone who cared enough to leave pages in a scrapbook just for him to fill. 

Thank you doesn’t mean enough, so he lets his body talk for itself. Even though everything was still new—still uncertain, still so fragile—he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be close to you. It’s only been a few weeks, and nothing has been exchanged except a brief kiss or two and some light hand holding. But despite the lack of his experience burning in the back of his mind, he can’t help but lean in. 

He reached out, hand gently brushing through your hair, pulling you closer. Even as the thought nagged at the back of his mind—we're in public, no one knows yet—he couldn't bring himself to care. The happiness swelling in his chest was overpowering.

His lips meet yours, and you must feel it too, in the way this kiss is more powerful than the rest.  It was still new, still uncertain in some ways, but there was an undeniable tenderness that made Shoto feel like everything had led to this moment.

He could do this forever. He wanted to. And maybe—just maybe—he’d get to.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

i've been writing so much angst lately this was kinda hard. But enjoy loves! and happy day of love! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

everyone go kiss the nearest butch to you now!!!!!

PICK UP LINES | SMAU

ೃ⁀➷ denki, monoma, shinso, midoriya, bakugo, todoroki

- i still have my finished my shinso & bakugou fic so gonna upload all my SMAUs heh.

🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

texts with the bnha guys; fem! reader (aged up) characters included: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya iida, eijirou kirishima, denki kaminari.

! you send them a naughty pic

warnings: sfw but suggestive

THE MEDIA THINK YOU’RE DATING THE WRONG HERO | SMAU

ೃ⁀➷ denki, midoriya, bakugou, monoma

requests open !

bakugou katsuki doesn’t announce the newfound development in your relationship like a normal person.

one day, he’s in the kitchen within the first breath of daylight, preparing breakfast for two. you slide up next to him, burrowing your head between his arm and chest—and katsuki… he lets you, squeezes you. he kisses you on your temple, “g’morning, baby,” and by then a gasp rips across the silence of the room.

kaminari starts, “what—”

“oh,” ashido gasps, dawning with understanding. “wait—are you two…?”

katsuki bares his teeth at the stunned looks of your classmates, his glare speaking volumes: an unspoken claim.

thinking about having ochako's ankles over your shoulders. strap deep inside her, and her whining because you cant won't cum inside her ): practically in tears because she wants it so bad, and shes so spoiled she doesnt know why you wont give it to her. pleading for it so pretty while you coo at her ): <33

need to smoke a fat cigarette in the rain

ohhh she gets so . teary. she wants it so bad she’s clawing at your hips and her nails are digging into your shoulder. like a cry of frustration, all weepy and pushing herself back into you like she’s hoping you’ll pushing her into a mating press just to knock her up. oh she gets upset about it, wants to know why you’re refusing her when she’s your good perfect girl and she always gets what she wants. can’t even talk her down from it with words, no matter how much you try to sweet talk your way out of it she’s just too upset. so you just gotta agree and give it to her. hike her knees up to her ears and promise you you’ll give her exactly what she wants, just has to stop crying

thinking about that bkdk edating in middle school trope, except they're amino boyfriends 💀

they meet on an all might amino community. katsuki is one of the community mods, and izuku is the leader of an analysis club on there. izuku's posts were often featured and very popular in the community (he was def a microcelebrity), and katsuki always gave him a ton of amino coins on his posts.

for a challenge he's hosting for his club, izuku makes a huge deep-dive post analyzing all might's rise to fame in his bronze age. this post gets close to 10k likes, and katsuki gifts him 5k amino coins on the post. when izuku sees that number, he freaks out and assumes it must be a mistake since that's a huge number, who in their right mind would give him that much money??

he messages katsuki (who's username is 𝓓𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ⛓️💥) (LMAOOOOO) and asks if the amount of coins was a mistake + offers to give them back. katsuki tells him that there was no mistake, and that he just really liked izuku's post. izuku is really flattered that this guy liked his analysis so much, and they continue texting back and forth for a while.

they follow each other and put each other in their bios under "bffs," and a month or two after that, they officially become boyfriends. izuku buys amino+ using all the coins katsuki had given him (katsuki keeps spending his allowance to buy more amino coins so he's super rich). they start matching profile themes after that, switching to a new theme every month. they have matching profile frames and chat bubbles and everything, and izuku makes a sticker pack of all might faces to use when texting katsuki (sometimes katsuki uses the stickers too, but only when texting izuku)

everyone on all might amino knows they're dating, since they're both such high-profile people in the community. they become the community's it-couple, and people love commenting on their walls how cute their matching profiles are. katsuki comments under all of izuku's posts praising his analysis, and izuku always replies with a string of all might heart-eye stickers.

6 months into their relationship, izuku tells katsuki he can call him by his real name. up until now, izuku had gone by the nickname "golden" in honor of all might's golden age. when izuku tells katsuki his name, though, he doesn't get a response. the next day, izuku wakes up to find that katsuki's profile has been deleted entirely.

izuku feels like throwing up. he doesn't know what happened to dynamight, if he caused this, what could have caused this. he debates deleting his account too, ashamed and confused and hurt, but ultimately decides against it. he changes his profile theme back to an aesthetic picture set of all might in his iconic golden age pose, and continues posting on all might amino as if nothing happened. he doesn't reach out to new people on amino again.

when izuku gets into ua and his workload drastically increases, he stops finding time to post on amino, eventually deleting the app entirely (his profile stays up, though).

in second year, izuku is sitting in the common room with his friends, somehow having been roped into a conversation about dating. "you've never been in a relationship before, have you, deku-kun?" uraraka asks him.

his friends' eyes all focus on him, and he blushes. "well, i had an online boyfriend in middle school, but i'm not sure if that counts." his friends gape at him, clearly surprised. some other people lingering about in the common area also tune into the conversation. katsuki is one of them.

"really, midoriya-kun?" iida says, doing his best to hide his blatant shock. "i must say, that sounds rather out of character for you!"

"did you guys break up or something?" todoroki asks.

izuku grimaces, remembering what happened. "i told him my real name, and then he deleted his account. i think it was because of my name, but I guess i don't know for sure."

uraraka frowns. "that sucks! he didn't deserve you anyway. what an asshole move." the rest of izuku's friends nod in agreement at that. out of the corner of his eye, izuku sees katsuki get up from his armchair and storm out of the room.

months later, izuku and katsuki finally start dating for real. izuku is so overwhelmed with happiness, and katsuki's eyes light up every time he sees izuku. one night, though, katsuki pulls him aside. "there's something i need to tell you."

izuku frowns in confusion. "what's up?"

katsuki takes a deep breath. "...i'm dynamight."

this does not clear izuku's confusion. "um... yeah, i know what your hero name is."

"no, it's-" katsuki cuts himself off, then starts again. "i was dynamight on amino, too."

izuku feels his heart drop. he's not sure what katsuki is saying, why he's bringing it up. "you... we were... you mean we dated back in middle school?"

katsuki nods, eyes on the floor. he doesn't say anything else.

"why did you..." izuku licks his lips in apprehension. "why did you delete your account?"

katsuki is silent for a moment. "i freaked out when i found out who you were," he finally says. "i mean, you know how i was treating you in real life back then. and we had been texting all that time, and i had been comforting you from the bullying you were going through, only to realize it was me who was- i didn't... i didn't know what to say. and obviously i was really immature at the time and wasn't ready to process my feelings yet. but that whole thing helped me realize my feelings for you, even though i didn't want to accept that at the time.

"but," katsuki continues, clearly on a roll now, "that still doesn't excuse what i did. it was a shitty move. and i know i've apologized for how i bullied you before, but i'm sorry for this, too, izuku. i know i hurt your feelings. i swear i'll be a better boyfriend this time, i promise. uh- only if... if you still want to be together."

izuku can't even think of what to say for a moment, still silently reeling at katsuki's confession. eventually he says, "no, i- i get it. we were both pretty immature at the time, and to be honest i kind of got over it a while ago. but," he smiles, "that apology really means a lot to me. and of course i still want to be with you."

he leans in to kiss katsuki briefly. izuku doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.

katsuki rests his forehead against izuku's, eyes taking in izuku's face. "i swear i'll be an even better boyfriend than dynamight was, golden."

and then they lived happily ever after :>

taking care of sick DabiHawks except they're either acting like they're dying (it's a cold) or acting like they're not sick at all (bro could collapse at any seconds)

so it's scolding them 50% of the time, 20% "I shouldn't hug and kiss you cause I don't wanna get sick but I'll just make a little exception", 15% ACTUALLY taking care of them and 15% listening to their illness thoughts that makes no sense

taking care of sick dabihawks would be a fucking nightmare

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

FILLING IN | BAKUGOU x READER ˖˚˳⊹

summary: A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent drops out, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki.  contents: The classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar Bakugou, soft dom Bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush, slight bondage, descriptions of afab genitalia, nipple sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, pet names used: angel and sweetheart, porn with surprise feelings, 18+, 8.2k words notes: This is my Bakugou x Reader commitment for @ficsforgaza, and I am sorry it is late enough to also count for Valentine's Day (but also Happy Valentine's Day!!) Additionally, a special thank you to my angel princess @ofmermaidstories for handing me the nerd + pornstar combo when I was worried about Bakugou's characterization. I think this is the only way I could have ever written a pornstar Bakugou that felt right to me. Love you, Mermie.

The studio was churning in chaos by the time you arrived.

The first sign that things weren’t right was Komori, one of your fellow production assistants, propped against the wall outside. Her cellphone was pressed against her ear, and she looked nervous, her foot tapping a thousand miles a minute. She had a thumbnail pressed to her mouth and was chewing steadily through the nail like a rabbit through a lettuce leaf.

You didn’t want to disturb her, so you buzzed inside the studio, only to find the hallways filled with an equally nervous energy. Yaoyorozu, one of the production managers, hovered in the doorway of a dressing room. She looked to be arguing with someone, her normally sweet expression pinched in profile. A small circle of people took up the hallway behind her, shifting apprehensively.

A shrill voice filtered out of the dressing room as you tried to wedge yourself by. “I said I’m not doing it. We’re getting married and we agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“Bibimi—” Yaoyorozu started.

“Effective immediately. Find someone else,” Bibimi’s voice replied.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking as you turned back to the doorway, peering over Sato’s shoulder.

Bibimi Kenranzaki was one of the studio’s top actresses, the very performer scheduled to shoot the production you were working on this afternoon. The shoot was a Valentine’s Day special, and had already been delayed at Bibimi’s request several times. If you’d understood Yaoyorozu’s previous concerns correctly, today was the last possible day to shoot it with enough time for it to make it through editing to post on Valentine’s.

This was not good.

“Bibimi, of course we would never force you to do something you did not consent to,” Yaoyorozu said patiently. “But you can see how having delayed this shoot many times already puts us in danger of not delivering on our commitments.”

You heard a dismissive snort issue from the room, and peered over one of Yaoyorozu’s slender shoulders. Bibimi lounged across one of the waiting room couches, arms crossed over her chest. An enormous diamond ring you’d never seen before glinted from one of her fingers, clearly the source of today’s change of heart.

Oh, production was not going to be happy.

You winced as you ducked out from behind Yaoyorozu, heading back down the hall to stuff your things into one of the vacant lockers. It was a struggle to fit everything in as today you’d come directly from a lecture—two textbooks the size and weight of cinderblocks choking up all the space in your bag. You would have thought that, considering that a wide swath of the production staff were college students—including several of the performers themselves—the studio would have had a better set up. But it was often a fight to the death to even find an open locker amongst the many other bookbags, and an equally Sisyphean struggle to get the door shut on the tiny cubbies.

Once you finally managed to finagle the door shut on your backpack, you made a beeline for the supply room. Typically, your first task of any shoot was acquisition of about a million pounds of baby wipes and lube, though you wondered if they would be needed today, given the scene with Bibimi you’d just witnessed.

You checked the film schedule posted in the staff entry to find the allotted set room. Then you made your way down the twisting maze halls carpeted with ancient olefin to the set for You Cumplete Me, the obnoxious working title Kaminari had come up with for this particular Valentine’s Day project.

The room was set up like some generic apartment, a large bed with a wire-framed headboard dominating the majority of the space. A cherry wood nightstand cluttered with fake knick knacks stood diligently at the bedside, and two fake windows with their curtains drawn shut overlooked the whole affair, red dressings fluttering slightly in the breeze from a fan.

Most of the production staff was already inside the room, the cameramen and director huddled together in the corner, whispering nervously. You spotted Mina, the wardrobe coordinator and makeup artist, fussing with her phone in the other corner, her various products and brushes spread out across a plastic folding table, looking put out.

“You know if we’re going to be able to sub anyone in for Bibimi?” you asked as you approached her, flopping down in one of the chairs set up at her makeshift dressing table. You arrayed your armful of lube and plastic packs of wipes at the corner so as not to disturb her arrangement.

Mina’s eyes flicked up to yours and she grinned, the upturn of her mouth accented with perfectly-applied hot pink lipstick.

“Komori’s called like ten other actresses so far and can’t get anyone,” Mina answered. “And Shiozaki and Kendo are in-studio but both just got off another shoot so we contractually can’t use them. I think Yaomomo is ready to start shaking people down.”

You winced. Yaoyorozu never lost her cool, but the pressure must be mounting. You knew marketing materials had already been put out on the studio’s website, specifically promising the return of the studio’s highest-grossing star—Bakugou Katsuki—opposite Bibimi.

While Bibimi might be the highest paid actress, Bakugou was the real draw of UA Productions. UA churned out projects that were largely targeted towards less traditional markets—largely women—porn that was often of higher production value, higher quality scripting, and careful coordination showcasing enthusiasm and consent. It also subsequently employed more than its fair share of beautiful men.

And Bakugou Katsuki crowned that pile of performers. Though foul-mouthed and often irascible, he was undeniably breathtaking to behold, both on screen and in person. He was the typical blend of tall, strong, and well-muscled that most UA actors were. But he moved with a singular precision and intention that drove fans wild, and came equipped with bed-rumpled blond hair, mile-long lashes, a surly, pouty mouth, and a facial symmetry that Euclid himself would have wept over.

He was also nearing the end of his doctoral and would not be filming for much longer, you were given to understand. So the studio stood to lose a significant amount of audience trust and money, should this production fall through.

As if on cue, Bakugou Katsuki himself stomped through the doorway. The expression on his face told you he was already well-aware of what was happening with Bibimi, and he was getting annoyed with the hold up. He set a direct line for you and Mina, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction.

Your ears promptly went hot, the way they always did when Bakugou was in your line of vision.

You’d unfortunately had something of a crush on him from the minute you’d become a production assistant at UA, your third year of college. Funds were tight and your masters program loomed large in front of you, its meager stipend like a slap in the face. You’d needed something else flexible, and you’d found UA through the friend of a friend—its proximity to the university, and ever changing schedule of ongoing productions offering the perfect amount of flexibility for your situation.

Bakugou had been there that first day as Yaoyorozu gave you the tour, too. He’d been tucked up on the couch of the waiting room as you passed through, blonde hair rumpled, someone’s lip gloss still smeared at the corner of his jaw. He looked like a soft, relaxed mess—clothes askew like he’d pulled them back on after a shoot and immediately migrated to the couch—though his scarlet eyes tracked intently across the page of an enormous engineering text spread across his thighs. His long fingers twirled a pen absently, tapping against a notebook peeking out from just under the textbook, headphones jammed over his ears.

He did not look up as you made your way inside, but your stomach had flared to life with a sudden flutter of butterflies. You were startled by the pretty set of his mouth, the long lashes that swept over his cheeks as he read, the flex of those long, beautiful fingers on his pen. You had never seen a person so perfect in real life, and the effect was dumbing.

“That’s Bakugou, one of our performers,” Yaoyorozu had told you, leading you through the room. She did not stop to introduce you. “He’s working on a PhD in chemical engineering, and performs once every couple of months for us. He’s—erm—not quite friendly, so we’ll skip the introduction today.”

You’d followed her, nodding obediently, leaving Bakugou behind. You’d dutifully concluded your tour and signed all the paperwork, and met several other members of the staff. It was only when you’d been released from your onboarding obligations that you saw Bakugou again, as you ran out into the parking lot to start your car.

It was raining out, a torrential downpour much worse than when you’d arrived that came down in thick, pelting sheets. Visibility was bad enough that you almost missed the tuft of blonde hair across the parking lot, ducking under the awning of the nearby bus stop.

You knew the route headed back towards your university, and subsequently your apartment, and it dawned on you that Bakugou’s would most likely be attaining his cited PhD at your same college. You felt your mouth twist, impressed. PhD tracks were notoriously difficult to attain at Musutafu University—no wonder Bakugou needed a job that was, for lack of better phrasing, quick and dirty. He probably was drowning in post-grad labs and dissertation materials.

The memory of those long fingers tapping at the edge of his text suddenly flickered again in your brain, and something possessed you as you started up your engine. Before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled your car around into the bus stop bay, leaning out to call out to him.

“Hey—Bakugou, right?” you said, watching as scarlet eyes found yours, narrowing suspiciously. His pretty mouth lifted in an immediate, reflexive snarl, and those broad shoulders squared off, like he was getting ready for trouble.

You cut in, quickly explaining yourself when you realized he had no context for the rando hanging out of their car window at him. “I’m Yaoyorozu’s new production staff. Just joined today. Are you headed towards Musutafu U and do you want a ride?”

A blonde eyebrow lifted. “You’re with UA?” he asked. His voice was a kind of low growl, not unlike the thunder suddenly echoing overhead, and the sound shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

“I—yeah. Just signed the paperwork this afternoon.”

Several spatters of rain dampened your cheeks where you had your head poked out of the window, and Bakugou’s eyes tracked them closely as he leaned in. “Then let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You recoiled, horrified at the conclusion he’d immediately brought himself to. “No! That’s not what I—I didn’t mean like—! I just thought because it’s raining out, you might want—”

“I want you to fuck right off, is what I want,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a show of leaning back against the glass wall of the bus stop, its interior papered over with moldering ads. It was a clear dismissal.

You blinked at him stupidly for a moment, mind reeling that your gesture had been received so poorly. But then you realized he hadn’t seen you, in your trek through the staff room during your afternoon tour. You’d only just seen him, and you hadn’t spoken to him besides. Despite your immediate interest in and respect for him, he knew nothing about you.

And he was a pornstar, come to think of it. He probably had had a fair number of creeps proposition him out of the blue. Enough that he was suspicious now, as you might have been, were you in his position.

Your cheeks heated, suddenly ashamed. You nodded, gritting your teeth as you ducked back inside your car.

“Right, fucking off, as requested,” you said, turning your blinker on to move back out into the road. “Sorry to scare you. See you, um—see you at work sometime.”

“Oi—I ain’t fuckin’ scared,” you heard him growl, but then you were turning back out into the street. You rolled your window back up as you sped up, resisting the urge to look back at Bakugou in the rearview.

What a humiliating first impression that had been.

You'd fretted about it for another week before your first official day at UA, and for several weeks more when you didn’t immediately run into Bakugou. When you’d finally met him properly, however, Bakugou acted like he’d never even seen you before in his life, and you somewhat gratefully followed his lead. He treated you like anyone else, with the same kind of universal severity he turned on the other production staff. You discovered very quickly that he was impatient, brusque, no-nonsense. He stalked onto every set with all the latent energy of a nuclear missile strike, and never softened until after the shoot was over.

His general attitude, and your humiliating first encounter should have been enough to turn you off of him. But the occasional glimpse of him after a shoot—rumpled, relaxed, open in a way he normally wasn’t, in the way that you'd first seen him—was unfortunately enough to keep those initial butterflies aflutter.

The fact that he was smart—and annoyingly adept in the bedroom, considering the number of reshoots his costars often needed after they accidently came too early—did not help matters.

“Where the fuck is Yaoyorozu?” he demanded of you and Mina, as he approached you in the set room now.

You met his scarlet gaze, holding very still under his regard.

“She was negotiating with Bibimi just now when I came in,” you told him, cheeks heating as his eyes flicked over you. He had a very direct way of evaluating people, and rarely missed a detail. You hoped your makeup wasn’t smudged from where you’d had your head propped up in your hand, valiantly resisting falling asleep in your earlier lecture.

“Bibimi’s a waste of fuckin’ time,” Bakugou growled.

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t very well act opposite his own hand, so someone was going to have to fill in.

“Well Mina says we’re not having luck finding anyone else either so Bibimi is your best bet,” you told him.

Bakugou looked down his perfect nose at you. “Anyone in this damn studio could do better than she does.”

You felt your eyebrows raise. Bibimi was popular with a variety of audiences for her exaggeratedly dollish features—you doubted just anyone could fill in for her and look as good. You said as much to Bakugou, and he scoffed.

“‘S not about looking good, it’s about showing that you’re feeling good,” he said plainly, igniting a wave of fire across your cheeks. The flames worsened when he crossed his arms over his chest and you had occasion to notice he was in nothing but a workout tank, his bare biceps flexing enticingly in the studio lighting.

You were thankfully spared from having to form a coherent response by Yaoyorozu stepping into the room. She was tailed by Komori, and wore a troubled expression. She waved an elegant hand that encompassed both your camp in the corner and the directors on the other side of the room.

“Bibimi is unfortunately out. And we cannot use Shiozaki or Kendo. I am afraid we may have to call off the shoot this afternoon,” she said.

“So get someone else in,” Bakugou said, with his usual brisk directness. He turned to face her. You caught the whiff of something light and clean on him as he did so, laundry detergent and recently-applied shampoo.

Yaoyorozu fixed him with an expectant look. “We’ve unfortunately worked our way through the roster of available performers. Unless you know someone else?”

Bakugou stared back at her evenly, arching a blonde brow. “There’re a bunch of extras already here, aren’t there?”

A little shock went through you. Extras. As in the…people in the room right now? Did he really mean the production staff?

Yaoyorozu blinked, apparently taken aback. Then her gaze slid thoughtfully between Komori, Mina, and you. Another little thrill raced through you, like you’d suddenly missed a step. Surely they both could not actually be considering that.

“I’m a hoe but I’m a loyal hoe,” Mina said from next to you, immediately putting up a rosy palm. “Eiji is my one and only, sorry babes.”

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Of course, I would not expect you to violate any commitments you already had to a significant other.”

“I am also seeing someone,” Komori volunteered, a shy little blush sweeping across her cheeks. You smiled a bit at her obvious regard for whoever it was—until you sensed a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turning to you.

Your stomach dropped—less of a missed step then and more of a sudden push off a cliff.

Worst of all was the pair of scarlet eyes suddenly burning with undue regard in your direction. You stared straight at Yaoyorozu, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. You still felt like you might burn up under his scrutiny, like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“I—uh—” you said dumbly, floundering for the right set of words to explain yourself. “Uhh.”

“You seeing anybody?” Bakugou prodded, prompting a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks.

“Well—no—”

“You clean?” he asked.

Your face burned hotter. “Yes, if you must know—-but uh—”

“Then what?” he prompted.

“Is it that easy for you? To just switch partners like that?” you asked. You weren’t exactly a blushing virgin but you still had only slept with partners you had cared for. Bakugou had worked with you for years and never signaled anything beyond dismissal and semi-professionalism—so it wasn’t like he had that same level of interest in you, despite your enormous crush on him. How could he just switch, just like that?

Bakugou uncrossed his arms to settle his hands on slim hips instead, and he gave you another evaluating once over. “Something the matter with you?” he asked. You noticed he did not ask if you thought something was the matter with him. You wondered if your crush on him was that apparent.

“No,” you said defensively. “Just—I don’t know that I’d be any good on camera.”

“You’ve been in videos before,” Mina pointed out, tugging playfully on your belt loop. “You were in Bibimi’s Christmas special a couple years ago.”

“That was different,” you said, staring at her. “I was her evil coworker who sent her running into Tetsutetsu’s muscular arms. I didn’t have to get naked.”

“We can give you time to get prepared,” Yaoyorozu promised kindly. “If you wanted to um, clean up or trim—”

“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.”

Bakugou watched you silently for another long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.

“Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone.

You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?”

“If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk. The arrogance looked so good on him, zinging through your veins like an electric current. Your cheeks and ears flared even hotter, until you thought you might actually be emitting smoke from them.

You tried to form words but seemed to have trouble shaping the proper ones with your tongue, making a series of choking noises before you managed. “There is no way you could—you’re not that good.”

Something hot flared to life behind Bakugou’s eyes, and his smirk curled even sharper. “We’ll see about that.”

“What if Bakugou helps you get over your nerves, and we just try it and see how you do.” Yaoyorozu prompted gently. “Is that something you would be willing to do? Of course we won’t pressure you.”

Your gaze jerked back to her as you startled. For just a second you’d sort of forgotten there was anyone in the room but Bakugou.

“I sort of doubt—but if you really need—I mean I could—try…” you fumbled out.

Yaoyorozu nodded gratefully, looking pleased again. “Alright, then let’s at least try it. Mina please find proper costuming and help get Y/N ready. I will draw up a short contract with the same terms we promise all our on camera talent for you to look over when you’re done.”

You nodded, a little dazed. Had you really just agreed to—?

But then Mina was laughing, grabbing you by the elbow and drawing you out of the room. She marched you towards the back of the studio building where she’d amassed a respectable wardrobe, racks upon racks of clothes. “Alright, this is going to be so fun! I love dressing new talent! It’s always fun to work out what’s going to work with your coloring and style on screen.”

The mention of you doing anything on screen had all the blood draining from your veins, but Mina didn’t seem to mind. She kept up a stream of happy, easy chatter as she pecked around in the racks like a chicken hunting a grasshopper. Eventually she emerged with a robe in a deep pink, slippery and silky and glistening faintly under the overheads.

“Okay so you’re supposed to be a loving couple celebrating your anniversary and looking for ways to spice things up,” she said. “So you’ll be waiting for him to come home, looking delicious in this little slip of a thing. He can unwrap you like a V-Day present!”

Her callback to the plot of the shoot suddenly made you realize there were way more things involved in the project than just being pawed at on screen—and you did not know any of Bibimi’s lines. How the hell were you supposed to deliver any kind of performance?

“Don’t worry about it, I assure you the gears are already churning in Momo’s big brain,” Mina said when you asked as much. She peeled you out of your sweater and jeans, and ushered you into the robe. Cheeks burning, you let her look you over to make sure you were properly groomed for the camera.

Then before you could get cold feet, she bundled you up and shepherded you back into the set room and set to work on you with her various pots of paint and ointments. She worked a couple things into your hair, applied something glossy and sticky to your mouth, and adjusted the fit of your robe to her liking until she pronounced you ready.

Yaoyorozu was already leaning over you by the time Mina released you, laying out a packet of sheets in front of you. She detailed the terms to you in the professional, clipped tone you’d heard her conduct business in before, and soon enough you were penning in your own name in a shaky hand. The strokes looked almost foreign on the page, and you felt a little more than lightheaded thinking about what you’d just signed yourself into.

“So—what am I supposed to do about Bibimi’s lines?” you asked, your voice coming out kind of dry and crackly.

“We’re going to improvise,” Yaoyorozu said. “Bakugou will guide you. Try to respond as best you can to what he says, along the framework of being a couple celebrating their anniversary. It’s most important to capture your intimacy, however, so we can always come back and reshoot any dialog as needed after. You can call him Katsuki, there are no aliases for this shoot.”

You nodded, feeling even more nervous now that all the prerequisites had been completed.

That left Komori waiting for you. She was apparently assuming the duties you’d abandoned by becoming the star of this absurd alternate dimension. She led you over to what had been meant to be Bibimi’s starting mark on the bed and helped you spread your pink robe out enticingly. You almost laughed as you helped her, feeling foolish and distinctly unsexy for the deliberateness of it all.

There was nothing less romantic than half a dozen other people in the room with you, cameras and hot lights trained on you like you were an escaped convict under a helicopter floodlight. You got the impression that it was going to be a monumental task to work up the nerve to even loosen the tie on your robe, nevermind remove it.

Except then Bakugou walked in.

He’d changed, sometime in the half hour or so Mina had had you in her clutches. He prowled into the room in a dark charcoal suit, the consummate businessman home from his generic businessman job.

He looked unfairly good in it too—the close cut of it highlighted how his broad shoulders slashed inwards into a trim waist, and his pants showcased the flex of a strong, hard thigh. He’d acquired a chunky wristwatch in a dark metal, and it glinted dully under the overhead lights.

He looked sleek and dangerous, even though you’d just seen him stomping around in sweatpants not thirty minutes prior. You felt your breath escape you in a whoosh, your heartbeat kicking up as he prowled closer.

“I’m home, angel,” he said, a smoky rasp curling on the end of his voice. Despite the pet name, he sounded enough like his usual self that you almost answered him in turn.

You vaguely remembered you were obliged to playact with him, and you summoned up your nerve. “Hi, Katsuki,” you said. You hoped your voice did not sound too shaky. “Happy Anniversary.”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes dipped down to your robe, fastening to the spot where it gaped open suggestively over one thigh. Your skin buzzed like a hive of bees was trapped beneath it.

“This my present?” he asked, stalking closer. He snagged the tie of your robe in his long fingers, toying with it speculatively.

“It should be easy to open,” you joked, then almost cringed.

Sexy. You were supposed to be sexy, not goofy as hell. And what happened when he really did try to open it?

A small amount of panic crept up your spine again, seeping into your veins. You did not feel ready to be naked before all of the eyes in this room, nevermind the roving gaze of the internet. What had you been thinking, signing up for this?

Your hand came up defensively to tug the robe tie back out of Bakugou’s hand, only for it to be captured too. Bakugou tugged you up and to him, and your face broke out in another sweeping wave of flame as you felt the hard planes of him against you. He was so warm, and smelled so good up close and you could not even begin to know what to do or where to put your hands—

Before you could ask him what the heck he was doing, however, he brought your captured hand to his mouth. You almost leapt out of your skin when you felt the gentle press of his lips on the inside of your wrist, the careful flicker of a tongue. Those scarlet eyes slid over you knowingly, near enough that you could see tiny flecks of deep purple in them.

His other hand came up to take your chin, his thumb stroking over the side of your jaw. The feeling made you shiver slightly, and it must have been clearly visible because the corner of Bakugou's mouth lifted into a smirk against your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every inch of your skin thrilling with the feeling of your longtime crush doing something this to you.

“Think I’m gonna enjoying opening you alright,” Bakugou intoned.

You struggled to remember what he was talking about, giving up almost immediately as his mouth trailed along the inside of your arm. It traced up and up and up, until he was hovering dangerously close to your face. His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up to his.

And then he bent his head, and crushed his mouth to yours.

Immediately, everything else disappeared.

Kissing Bakugou was three thousand zillion times hotter than you could have ever even imagined. You’d sort of imagined that with an attitude like his, he would be all power and impatience. And the power was there, but leashed, somehow. His mouth was hot and shockingly sweet on yours, and his fingers cupped your face to his, holding you there like he planned to kiss you for hours yet.

Your head was spinning by the time he let your mouth free, and the dip of his blonde lashes as he looked you over was extraordinarily self-satisfied.

His hand on your chin went to your robe instead, pulling the collar wide so that he could lower his mouth inside instead, kissing over your throat. You seized fistfuls of his suit, clinging to him, as he mapped a hot path across your shoulder and collarbone, one of his hands coming up to up your chest.

You heard yourself let out a soft hiss as his thumb pressed over your nipple through the silky fabric. Bakugou sucked a careful bruise into the side of your neck as he did it again, letting out a barely audible snort when you jerked in his hold, unconsciously arching into his hand.

“So sensitive for me, angel,” he drawled as his other hand came up to carefully pinch your other nipple.

You heard yourself make a small, choked off noise like a whine, and you could feel Bakugou’s lips pull into an answering smirk against your throat. You didn’t think you had been quite this responsive to a partner before—but something about the careful, purposeful way he was touching you had your blood running quicker in your veins.

Bakugou’s thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles over your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you groan. He teased you again and again as his mouth traced higher on your neck.

Within minutes you were panting, a slow, syrupy pleasure dripping down into your core.

Bakugou tugged your robe wider, then bent his head. You felt the tickle of his hair against your collarbone, softer than you would have thought, as his mouth closed over the point of one nipple. The draw of his mouth had you arching up into him immediately, pleasure zinging through your veins.

“Oh my god,” you said, seizing a fistful of that blonde hair.

Bakugou’s tongue teased at the nipple, and you writhed in his hold. Then he did the same to your other one, and you thought you might die. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you already wanted to crawl out of your skin with impatience.

“Katsuki—please,” you heard yourself say, almost distantly. “Katsuki—oh!”

“Please what, angel?” he said into the skin of your chest, before laying his mouth back over your nipple and giving a sweet suck.

“Oh my god—please!” you said, stupidly. Not an answer to his question but you’d forgotten how to string words together, your brain-to-mouth connection running on autopilot.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Bakugou said, and you heard the relish in it. Your face burned, and you yanked his hair a little more firmly. He just groaned, and then sucked you a little harder.

“Touch me! Please—Katsuki,” you panted out, hips flexing unconsciously with the pull of your nipple.

“Thought this was my gift, angel. I can’t enjoy it how I want?” he asked.

You considered his words muzzily, having no idea what he was talking about. Gift? What gift was he talking about?

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, and something in your expression must have told him you had no idea what he was on about. His mouth pulled up into a self-satisfied grin, and he leaned up to kiss you again.

You flattened yourself out against his chest, all but velcroing yourself to him. You wanted to feel every inch of that hard body against you, wanted to climb as far into him as you could. Something gratifyingly hard pressed against your stomach as you kissed him, and he grunted, locking you to him with a muscled arm across your back.

“Want me to touch you, angel?” he asked.

You nodded. A smile played across his lips.

“Get on the bed for me then, sweetheart.”

It took a minute for you to process but then you were scrambling to obey, scrabbling your way onto the bed, turning and watching as Bakugou stepped nearer.

He shed his jacket as he approached, yanking off his tie too and flinging it somewhere behind him. Then he crawled over you, his fingers seizing the ties of your robe as he did. He pulled it open gently, then yanked a little harder until the silk tie slid free.

His eyes picked over it speculatively, then flashed back up to you. A look of intent interest settled over his features.

“You ever been tied up before, angel?” he asked.

You shook your head, even as it swam with the implication. Your skin prickled, somehow growing even hotter. He didn’t mean to…?

“You gonna let me?” he asked.

You rather thought you would let him do anything he wanted with you. The question was barely out of his mouth before you were nodding hurriedly. A shocked laugh punched out of him, and he gathered up your wrists, scooting you backwards until they pressed against the headboard.

He looped the silk around your wrists, gathering it into a series of complicated knots. He moved with a purpose and precision, his movements sure and practiced. You tested the give of the ties when he sat back on his haunches, finding that they held firm, even when you put a little more muscle into it.

Bakugou’s gaze blazed over you, hot like coals. His eyes traced over your body, spread out under him now, your silk robe pooling at either side of you in a pink puddle.

He bent his head and kissed you again, until you were fuzzy with the feeling once more. Then he worked his way downwards, softly biting your shoulder, licking over one nipple, pressing deep kisses into your belly and then indent of your left hip.

A shock of pleasure raced through you when you realized where he was going with this, and you let out an involuntarily little gasp as he hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.

“Katsuki,” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to follow it up with. Bakugou didn’t wait for you to finish, ducking his head and licking a hot stripe up the cleft of you.

Immediately you arched, thighs flexing under his hands. Your face heated when he laughed again, but any embarrassment was instantly forgotten when he licked over you again, slower and more deliberate this time.

“Oh my god,” you said again, biting off into a groan when his tongue dipped deeper between your folds, flicking up over your clit.

“Yeah, angel?” Bakugou asked, his voice a heady rasp. “You like that?” He layered another open mouthed kiss over you, slow and thorough, until you were arching up into his mouth again.

It would have been evident to anyone on earth how much you liked it from the noises you made, the way you kicked and squirmed with the movement of his mouth. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth, then laved over it firmly as he pressed his fingers to you, the pads of his index and middle slowly sinking into you.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he gave another slow suck, the feeling almost too much. His fingers pressed deeper into you, easily slipping in with how comically wet you were for him. The gentle suction of his mouth made everything a million times better, everything a million times worse, as he carefully curled his fingers within you. He seemed to immediately find a spot within you that felt like he was touching your clit from the other side too, and the feeling was immediately far too much.

“Holy shit,” you heard yourself say, cutting off into an honest to god whine when his tongue swirled around your clit, just as he teased a finger along you from the inside too. “Katsuki—oh! Katsuki please! Please oh my god oh my god.”

Bakugou’s ministrations grew a fraction firmer, and you heard him groan too as he kissed you messily.

“So fucking hot for me, sweetheart. So sweet,” he said, then sucked again, a tiny bit harder this time. His fingers stroked you from the inside, a firm, deliberate rhythm that had you turning your face and muffling a keen into the meat of your arm.

Your hips flexed against his face, wild and uncontrolled, wanting less, more, not enough, too much, oh my god—

“Katsuki!” you cried, as you suddenly hit the crest of your pleasure. Your wrists pulled against their bonds, and the feeling of helpless restraint suddenly made everything feel a thousand times more intense. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, so that even the air of the room seemed too harsh on your skin. You screamed as you rode out your pleasure against Bakugou’s face.

He worked you through it diligently, licking and sucking until you collapsed back to the mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.

“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.

You nodded breathlessly, turning your face to his when he crawled up your body to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on him was both embarrassing and thrilling, but Bakugou didn’t give you much leeway to consider it, kissing you into a stupid, pliant little puddle against the mattress.

You could feel him hard and hot against your hip as he did so, but he didn’t make any move to get inside you yet. Instead, his hands moved over you, slowly teasing you from satiation back into want. His fingers played with your nipples again, pinching them softly and rolling them. It felt like he'd rigged up some kind of wire, leading from your nipples right to your core, that lit the pilot flame of your interest again.

A couple minutes of diligent teasing, and easy, unhurried kisses had you wiggling under him again soon enough. It was only then, when you realized you were unconsciously rocking your hips against Bakugou’s, that he finally sat back to shuck off his shirt and pants.

He was so unfairly beautiful, bared in the bright light of the room. You’d known he was gorgeous, of course, but up close he was something else entirely. He was chiseled with thick muscle, his chest and arms hard and glowing faintly with perspiration. The light and the shadows of the room played over the divots of his muscles with a deliberate care, like he was a painting instead of a man, highlighting him in loving shades. A set of perfect abs trailed down into the hard jut of hip bones over his pelvis, and his cock was just as upsettingly gorgeous as the rest of him. It was thick and full and flush with his arousal, and he wasted no time crawling back between your thighs.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice had gone even more gravelly than usual, and it plucked at your core like a string.

“Please, Katsuki,” you said, your voice embarrassingly breathy. You couldn’t help yourself though, couldn’t be ashamed with the easy way your thighs fell apart for him. Your ankles hooked across his back, trying to pull him closer still.

He groaned and surged up over you to grab a condom off the nightstand. He quickly rolled it onto himself in one practiced movement, before immediately pressing himself into you.

He sank in mortifyingly easily, you already half out of your mind with want. He didn’t seem to mind, though—you heard the soft, sibilant hiss of his own pleasure as he filled you, and your robe tugged the skin of your shoulder as he fisted a hand in it, just beside your head.

“Been dying to fuck you, angel,” he said. “Thinking about how hot and tight and sweet you would be for me. Been thinking about it nonstop.”

You made a vague noise of agreement, moving your hips with his as he drew back and pressed inside of you again. The slide of him inside you was mind-numbingly good, the pressure against your stomach as he pressed back in almost sparking stars in your vision. The flex of his abs between your thighs as he found his pace was almost immediately too much for you, and you had to turn your face away. You tilted your face up to his, watching him as he watched you.

Bakugou seemed to read your expression easily, finding the angle and pace you liked incredibly quickly. He slid an arm under the small of your back to angle your hips up into him, yanking you up like you were nothing, and the show of easy strength had your toes flexing and curling against his back.

He kissed you again, catching the sounds of your pleasure in his mouth as he rocked into you. You moved against him, hips bucking, delirious with the feeling of him. Eventually he freed his arm from under you, pressing his thumb to your slit again with deadly precision.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his mouth, legs tightening on him as he played with your clit. The almost-too-gentle sensation of his thumb on your clit, coupled with the relentless drive of him inside you had your vision sparking and greying at the edges. His face swam in front of yours, and all of your limbs began to feel shivery, almost too weak to lift yourself into him the way you needed, to rock against him and find relief from the friction.

Bakugou continued to tease at you, carefully pinching and petting. His hips drove into you tirelessly, slapping the bottoms of your thighs, as you strained in your silk bonds, wanting to grab him, pull him even harder into you.

“Katsuki, please please please,” you heard yourself begging. You felt him smile against your mouth, tasted his reply more than heard it.

“You want me to let you cum, angel?” he asked, doing something with his fingers that made your breath catch in your lungs.

“Unhh, yes—please!” you cried, desperation coming over you in a white haze.

You had never—never—been so desperate for anything in your entire life. You didn’t know how Bakugou was doing it, why his touch felt like so much more than anything else you’d ever felt in your life. If he didn’t let you cum you were certain you were going to die, right here and right now.

“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than you’d ever heard it. He grit the words out, like he too was on the edge of his own climax, barely staving it off.

“Anything, I will do anything,” you babbled senselessly. “Yes—going to scream for you—Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s gaze was hotter than you’d ever seen it, scarlet eyes clouded with pleasure, glowing like banked coals. “Then you can come for me, angel. Come on, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” you cried in answer, your feet planting themselves on the bed to jut your hips up hard. Bakugou’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, then, firm and merciless, and he fucked into you harder, his pace growing faster, furious.

Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, snapping your spine into alignment, locking all your limbs up as if in rigor mortis.

“Katsuki!” you wailed as you writhed against him, clenching and fluttering around him as you sobbed.

“Oh fuck,” you heard him say, and his hips stuttered. You realized he was coming too, fucking into you sloppily and disjointedly as he rode out his own pleasure. You arched and spasmed with him, clawing uselessly at the silk that bound you, twisting in blissful agony.

When you finally came back to yourself you found yourself slumped on the bed, Bakugou’s weight pinning you down into the mattress. His chest was slicked to yours with sweat, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of it against you as he caught his breath.

“That good, angel?” he asked, his voice heady with satisfaction.

You nodded, absently turning your face back up to his for a kiss. He granted it, kissing you almost possessively. He looked soft and rumpled, just the way you'd always liked him, and something in you purred with satisfaction at finally getting to have him like this for you.

Gradually, you became aware of other sounds in the room as you came down from your high. Quiet murmuring and the sounds of shuffling met your ears, the shutter click of a camera lens slicing through the atmosphere like a knife.

A sudden shock raced through you when you realized you and Bakugou were not alone—and you were on the set of a porn film, half a dozen eyes glued to you just over one of Bakugou’s thick shoulders.

A porn film. You had been shooting a porn film!

“And cut!” you heard the director’s voice ring out, like a bucket of water dumped over your head.

You tensed up beneath Bakugou, mind racing. Holy shit, he had actually managed to make you forget, exactly the way he'd promised.

You could tell Bakugou was thinking the same thing as he went to untie you, looking extremely satisfied with himself.

“Told you, angel,” he said, flashing something of a feral grin. You hated how good the self-conceit looked on him.

You went to draw your wrists back to yourself as he let them free. But Bakugou caught them instead, carefully massaging the skin there as if to make sure things were circulating properly. It was a startling note of unexpected care, as was the way he drew your robe closed around you again against the sudden chill of the room.

You found yourself saying wonderingly, “Wow. It was just that easy for you to switch partners like that.”

The thought somehow stung, even though you’d known going into this what you were getting yourself into. Somehow, the latent care and intention with which Bakugou had fucked you had addled your brain, made you think your connection had been something more. He had felt like he had feelings, beyond those mimed for the camera.

But here was evidence to the contrary, plain and simple. There literally was a camera.

Except then Bakugou looked down at you, a frown marring his pouty mouth. “Well yeah. ‘Course it was gonna be that easy when it’s you we’re talking about.”

You blinked at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Uh. When it’s—me?”

A crease came in between Bakugou’s blonde brows. “I said it, didn’t I? While we were fucking? Wanted to fuck you for a long time. Of course it was easy.”

Your stomach dropped, like a rug had just been yanked out from beneath you. “You—have? What? Since when?” you demanded.

Bakugou leveled you with an unimpressed stare. “Since the second time we met,” he said, and your mind flashed back to the way he’d seemed not to recognize you, that second time you'd spoken to him. “Once I realized you did work for UA and weren’t actually a little fucking creep trying to lure me into your car.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Then—? For years? You cannot be serious. You never acted like we were anything other than coworkers!”

Bakugou scoffed. “We fucking were coworkers. And I told you, I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You blinked again, startled by the level of professionalism couched in the crassess of his statement. It made sense, you supposed, for a pornstar of Bakugou’s caliber to have put boundaries like that in place. Probably everyone in the world would just be dying for a shot at him.

“Wow,” you said, almost to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, wondered how it was going to be possible to behave professionally with Bakugou at all going forward. It was probably obvious to him how big your crush on him was, given that he’d known all along he could make you forget you were on camera. Given the way you reacted to him embarrassingly easily.

Except then Bakugou leaned forward, putting his face startlingly close to yours. “Emphasis on were, since this is my last shoot,” he said.

You stared at him, wondering if you were interpreting the implication correctly. There was no way he meant—?

“Uhhhh, meaning what, exactly?” you prompted, heart beating just a little bit quicker despite yourself.

Bakugou’s mouth turned up into a gorgeous smirk, and he ducked his head even closer, voice going softer.

“Meaning you’re going to get dressed and I’m going to take us to get something to eat,” he said, fingers playing at the edge of your robe. “And then you’re going to give me that ride home in your car after all. And we are going to do this all over again.”

Flames erupted across your face, sweeping across your cheeks. And you were up out of the bed before you even realized what you were doing, catching yourself on the bedside table as you stumbled.

Bakugou’s laugh chased out of the set room as you raced towards the wardrobe again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, this time.

Not when your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You smothered a smile as you ran down the hallway.

Much like Bakugou had just done to you—it looked like your hopes and dreams were finally lining themselves up and filling themselves in.

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

my boss thinks you’re cute

feat: hawks / keigo takami

warnings / cache notes: language

req📌: ❌

m.list

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

‘The Forest’ — The Fable Oracle (in production) c.e.

Working on a new linocut print. This one features everyone's favorite animal: the cat. Reply in the comments with why cats are far superior to dogs!

Cutie patootie

part two, you dirty birdies. go read this first to catch up! summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x citizen!reader wc: 2.4k (oops) content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know), obsessive behavior, voice kink, dirty talk, blindfolds are involved, piv sex, oral f!receiving, spanking, dom/sub elements but not explicitly stated, aizawa's big dick, creampie, unprotected sex (do not do this!!! especially with strangers!!! this is fiction!!!)

Aizawa knows he shouldn’t go back.

It was already enough of a risk to hear your voice; that he's considering confirming his identity with you should have alarm bells blaring in his head.

But logic abandoned him hours ago.

Your message, come back tomorrow <3, blinks in his head. At this point, he’s just waiting for the city to fall asleep so he can slip out along the ledge and head straight to you.

Part of him is bizarrely nervous to replace the distance with reality, but the thought of never feeling your weight on top of him erases all arguments.

As soon as night falls, he winds his capture weapon around his neck and slides out into the dark.

All day long, you’ve been aching and hot, sliding your thighs together under the desk at work to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s no guarantee he’ll come back. You’ve told yourself this ever since you woke up gasping for breath, rocking your hips against a pillow.

It’s like he possessed you, you muse on the train ride home, the force of the train cars rattling your already frazzled head. You’ve never felt this way in your life, desire snapping and fizzing under your skin.

Your apartment looks exactly the same as when you left, straight down to the kicked-over coat stand you’d jostled on your way out the door. It’s all so maddeningly ordinary that it takes everything within you not to scream.

It’s almost like last night didn’t happen at all.

“No need to sigh like that, sweetheart.”

His voice comes from behind you. Fear zips up your spine like dynamite sparking, your stomach bottoming out in one fell swoop.

He’s here.

Something winds around your wrists and face, obscuring your vision and tugging your body back. You collide with someone who smells like cedar and books and black coffee.

You breathe in his scent as the fear melts to excitement, to anticipation.

He’s here.

“Miss me, sweet girl?”

You’d think huffing him in like a fucking croissant would be a dead giveaway.

“What’s with the blindfold?” you ask instead. Angling your head in various ways does nothing. He made sure you can’t make him out, only confirming your previous hunch. He’s a pro, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sneaking into girls’ apartments and fucking them stupid.

“You’re smarter than that.”

His voice is even better in person; you can feel the rumble of it against your neck. He loosens his hold on the cloth binding your wrists. Your hands naturally settle on the broad expanse of his chest.

He says the next thing nice and soft, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You understand the out for what it is, but you’re willing to sacrifice your sight for a taste of what he offered you yesterday.

“I’d like to do some things,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what you did to me, but if you don’t touch me in the next few seconds, I feel like I’ll pass out.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself on his thigh until his hand splays across your hip, stilling you. Flipping you around, he cages you against the door, teeth scraping down the side of your throat.

“You don’t know what I did to you?” He punctuates the ask by kicking your feet apart with the heel of his boot. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a keen high in your throat. “What about what you did to me? Feels like I’ve got you floating around my fucking bloodstream.”

With a growl, he scoops you up and pins you against the door with his hips, mouth bracketing over yours.

“Can’t get your pretty little noises out of my head,” he says against your lips, sounding like a man at a confessional. His hips jerk, the length of his erection pulsing between you. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty picture you sent me.”

He laves at your collarbone with his tongue, hand resting in the hollow of your throat. The gentlest squeeze elicits your softest sigh. He grunts at the sound, thick fingers applying more pressure before falling to your waist and locking you in place. His breath skates over your cheek; you feel the rasp of stubble on your skin.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

God, his voice makes your knees fucking buckle. His forearm is tight around your back, holding you close.

“Please.”

You don’t recognize that whine as your voice; you’ve never sounded this eager, never felt this aching pulse in your core the way you do now. You need him to mold your insides to the shape of him, to pin you down on the mattress and take you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. You don’t know him, not really, but you like this aspect of his personality. He makes his want for you tangible, so sharp you can practically taste it in the air. It’s like he’d rather die than leave you unsatisfied, and honestly, you don’t think anyone’s made you feel like that.

You can’t help liking it.

He taps open the door to your room with the toe of his boot. Lips slanted over yours, his tongue presses behind your teeth, licking into your mouth in the filthiest kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. It’s a sloppy clash of teeth and tongues; your hands fist in his hair as he caresses his thumbs over the skin of your hips.

“Take your clothes off.”

You obey just as you did on the phone, the rush to do so shooting a wave of heat over your face.

“That’s my girl, fuckin’ eager for it, huh?” You wish you could see his face; you want to match the feral snarl you hear with an expression. He sounds like he’s enjoying it, standing in front of you fully clothed while your arousal drips down your fucking legs.

You cross your legs together and he laughs, the hot span of his hands splaying over your hips as he tugs you to him.

“I know you’re needy, baby; you’re already doin’ so good for me. You listen just a little longer and I’ll make sure this pretty little pussy of yours gets the treatment she deserves, okay?” He cups your cunt in the palm of his hand; immediately, you rock against him, the meat of his palm bunching over your clit. He spanks your ass sharply. “Get on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Your muscles are shaky; your thighs tremble as you settle on the bed. You’ve never wanted to be able to see more than right now, spread out and vulnerable underneath a stranger’s gaze.

Before doubt can blare in your head, you hear him, “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His knee dips the mattress; his hands pry your thighs apart obscenely.

“She’s prettier up close,” he says, and then sucks your clit into his mouth.

You buck your hips into his face. He holds you down with his other hand and sucks harder. The sound you make has pre-cum spurting from his cock.

He’ll fucking cum like this if he’s not careful, rutting his hips on the sheets with your thighs choking off his air supply.

Worse ways to go, all things considered.

“You’ve been pent-up for a while, hmm?” He turns his head to kiss at the soft skin of your inner thigh, slick shimmering in the moonlight. He almost wishes his stubble were longer so he could capture more of your scent.

You smell so fucking good; he inhales and runs his teeth up the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking, grinding your clit on his nose. You whimper and lock your hands on his hair, silently begging for more.

He runs the flat of his tongue over your clit before breaking away. His dick jumps at your growl of frustration.

“Let’s stretch you out on my fingers first, pretty girl. I wasn’t just talking myself up yesterday.” He coats his fingers in your arousal, inhales the musky sweet scent of you like a drug. “You’re gonna need a little prep before you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers in. Your cunt sucks him in, gummy walls immediately clamping down. He drops his forehead to yours, thinks wildly about ripping away the blindfold, of forcing you to hold his gaze while he makes your pussy gush on his hands.

“More,” you cry out, and he obliges, working three fingers in, twisting and pressing and stroking, listening to your small gasps, waiting for the breath in your voice to catch. "Sho, please—"

Aizawa bites down on his lower lip when your back bows, fingers scrabbling at his forearm, holding his hand in place as you rock back and forth on his fingers. One little pinch of your clit and you’re sobbing out his name.

He lopes an arm under you and pulls you to him. Your breath comes out in shuddery little gasps.

“All good, sweetheart?”

You nod against his neck, already nosing at his throat for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what possesses him.

“I’ll let you take off the blindfold if you get on your hands and knees.”

The noise you make is so embarrassingly eager you almost cringe.

You might see him.

You arrange yourself as he asks, wiggling your ass and arching your back. You gasp when he palms your hip, pulling you back against his clothed cock.

"Can I take it off now?" you try to ask as coy as you can, but you just sound like a fucked-out mess. He feels big. You saw the picture but it's nothing compared to feeling the ridge of his shaft pulsing along the cleft of your ass. You choke on a groan, undulating your hips in a desperate move to calm the ache in your lower belly.

He grunts behind you and palms the back of your head. “Eyes forward, or you aren’t getting fucked. Understand?”

You nod into the mattress, not trusting your own voice.

"Words, princess, didn't we talk about this last time?" His tone is between condescending and tender and it's making your insides turn to fucking goo.

"I understand."

"Good."

You hear the clink of buckles, the rustle of a zipper.

"I'll only keep my eyes forward if all your clothes come off, though."

You know you're pushing it, pushing him, but fuck, you need his skin on yours so you can sear him into your fucking brain.

You squeal at the crack of pain when his palm collides with your ass.

"Mouthy tonight, honey?" There's his hand again, collaring the back of your neck. You throw your hips back at him; he spanks you again. "Fuck, you know what you're doin', don't you? My little cocktease want her pussy stuffed that badly?"

No one's talked to you like this. No one's ever said exactly the sort of profane filth you've longed to hear.

"Yes," you sob out.

"The clothes come off then, you little brat."

When he settles behind you, the hot ridge of his dick slides between your folds and you jerk back into him. The blindfold falls away.

"Goddammit," he growls out, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. "Fuck, you're soaking wet, baby. Can already feel her trying to suck me in, isn't that right?" He palms your lower belly. "You're gonna feel me right fuckin' here. I'm gonna be so deep inside you you'll forget about everything but me, you understand?"

His cockhead tips into your fluttering hole. Fuck, he is big. You peer back between your tits at where he's disappearing into you. The girth and length of him makes your stomach bottom out.

His hand pushes down on your lower back, bowing your ass up.

"Don't run away, let me work my way in, huh? Make my pretty girl feel so fucking full." Another inch of him slots inside you. The stretch of it burns slightly, but the pain recedes when he rubs little circles on your clit. "Fuckkkk, baby, you have any idea how perfect this tight little pussy is? Feels like you're suckin' the life out of me."

The drag of his cock inside you makes your eyes cross. With every thrust, he rubs the head of his dick on your g spot, hand locked in a possessive clutch on your lower belly.

"Put your hand here, feel where I'm fucking you." With one hand on top of yours, he presses down hard. You buck, the sensation almost too much. "No one else is ever gonna have this pussy, you hear me? It's fucking mine, sweet girl, mine to fuck, mine to feast on, mine to fill up with cum—"

The heel of his hand grinds down on your clit and that's all it takes before your orgasm collapses your lungs and shorts out your brain. Everything detonates, star-bursts of pleasure exploding in your core until tears stream down your face.

His rhythm barely falters as he fucks you through it, mouth hot on the back of your neck. "Keep goin', princess, you can cum again, can't ya? One more time, just for me. There's my fuckin' girl, milk every fucking drop out of me, fuck—"

You can only imagine the milky ring of cum and arousal coating his cock as he wrenches another orgasm from your tired body. His dick pulses inside you, a guttural moan reverberating from his throat so deeply you practically feel it in your gut.

He stays inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. When he slips out, you groan at the loss.

"Be right back, sweet girl. Blindfold goes back on, too."

He laughs when you pout, cloth obscuring your vision once more.

When he comes back, he dips a warm cloth between your thighs, swabbing away the gooey mess. You're so sensitive you hiss out a sharp breath. He presses a glass of water into your hand. You gulp it down with gusto.

"I already blocked off where I came in from," he's saying, and you can't help but roll your eyes even if he can't see the motion. You wonder how he chalks up this whole excursion in his stupid pro hero head.

"Don’t want anyone else getting to me or something?"

He clears his throat. "Or something."

The scrape of your window sounds. "I'd start locking these if I were you."

You know he's gone when the cloth whips away from your face, the flutter of your gauzy white curtains the only proof he was there.

taglist: @cryingintheclubdhmu @abigolemess @rindarudoesshonen @simplyraeblue @ermmclovingit @deputyazor @lizzobeth @quinn0-0 @hotlosergirl17 @mother-hellsing

keigo breeding kink

aughoighdfgs this might get filthy warnings: light choking? pussy slapping (idk what to call it), manhandling, mating press, creme pieeeeeee!!!!! overstim implied, porn without plot, minors dni

what started out as something flirty-- teasing, something more sensual-- turned into something primal the moment you fired back at his teasing with, "fuck a baby into me then."

something snapped. his eyes dilated, and a certain tick formed in his jaw-- you were sitting on top of him, perched over to position yourself to ride him, until that little challenge left your mouth and you were promptly thrown onto your back.

keigo is usually not rough with you. yeah, he'll go a little hard sometimes-- but he's never explicitly rough and mean. degrading.

the minute he has you pinned to the mattress he's forcing your legs apart and ignoring your protests. his hand wraps around your throat-- all five fingers, with his thumb stroking the side of your neck. it's gentle, not enough to cut off circulation, but enough to send a message. it's firm, it lets you know he's not messing around anymore.

his thumb presses firmly down on your clit, unmoving. you squirm under the hold, but the way he has you locked down doesn't allow you to move very much. you're keening for friction-- anything, really-- you're used to this. while it's a bit more forceful than usual, this is the kind of teasing and play that you're used to from him.

when your half lidded gaze meets his, you're startled to see that he's holding back. his fingers flex around the column of your throat and he lets out a shaky exhale of breath when he can feel you physically swallow.

"kei," you murmur, your eyebrows furrow the slightest bit. "you oka--"

"say it again."

the low timbre of his voice sends a dangerous chill down your spine. you feel your entire body grow hot, a fuzzy pull of warmth pooling in your gut. your eyes don't leave his at all.

it's silent until it clicks in your brain. he's calling your bluff.

you don't know what possesses you, but you giggle at him. "do it, keigo. breed me."

keigo turns his head, a low curse leaving his mouth. he then lifts you up by your neck towards him so he can speak his next words directly into your mouth. "i pray to god your birth control fails after i'm done filling you to the brim."

he doesn't let you respond. his fingers move to dig into the plush of your thighs as he pushes them upwards, pinning them to your lower stomach before there's a sharp slap to your exposed cunt. your body jolts, surprised. your hands are reaching for him, nails digging into his forearms and clawing down his biceps-- but he's not listening.

he'll let the fact that he's shocked that you're turned on by this stew in his brain later.

after a couple more taps, a satisfied little coo escapes his lips at the puddle forming under you on the bedsheet. "you're not gonna deny that you're turned on by this, are you, angel?"

fuck, no you're not.

because at this point, tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes. pleas and whines are falling from your lips, begging for something-- him, really-- just wanting and needing him to give you want you want. he knows what you want, and he's fully planning on making you say it out loud, but the way his dick is throbbing takes the wind out of his lungs.

it's on instinct how he moves, fist wrapped around the base of his cock; pumping once, twice and a third time before the head slips past your folds and he hisses at the lack of resistance. your warmth accepts him so easily, so smoothly, he doesn't even realize he's buried to the hilt until your back is arching off of the mattress.

your legs are already trembling. he nudges just the slightest bit further and smirks at the cry that leaves your mouth. that's the spot.

keigo does not care that you're already babbling nonsense. with each thrust he repeatedly prods that sensitive spot inside of you, purring when he feels your walls spazzaming around him. he leans down, his lips mouthing at your ear as he bends you further, causing you to gasp for air with each moan-- his hips continue to push against the plush of your ass.

"that's right," he murmurs, tone seductively low and strained. "give it to me baby, be a good girl and give it to me..."

you know what he wants. who are you to deny him?

the wave of euphoria washes over your entire body and you see stars. the stimulation doesn't stop however, even as you feel keigo empty himself inside of you. his satisfied groans were drowned out by your pornographic moans, growing breathier and raspier when he hooks the back of your knees over his shoulders.

"kei, baby wait--"

"gotta-- fuck-- make sure it sticks, dove," his hands roam up your legs and find purchase on your hips. he catches sight of your dazed expression and glazed over eyes and pats your hip affectionately. the action feels more condescending paired with that stupid smirk that stretches across his lips. he tilts his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

"what? just giving what you asked for."

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

its like they love each other or smth

spin this wheel of fanfic tags. this will be the theme of your day tomorrow.

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

Keigo Takami is in love with you, and you don't love him back

Hanahaki disease, angst, fluff, workplace romance

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keigo starts his morning the same way he has for the past two months, by coughing up a handful of bloody petals.

It splatters against the pure white of his toilet bowl, and he watches, knees digging into the floor and hands grasping the lid as they wash away, the water turning pink as the red petals disappear. It’s disgusting, really, the way he’s sprawled on the toilet floor, and on any other day he wouldn’t even consider touching the lid of any toilet, even his. But he doesn’t care, because the pain in his chest is aching, and his lungs burn as tries to breathe in, and Keigo cannot stop thinking about you.

The first time he’d coughed up a petal, it was after a week of pain. He thought it might just be the flu, or some other illness he’d caught from flying around in the cold winter winds. But then one night it had reached its peak, and Keigo was in slight disbelief at the red rose remains in his hand after he’d coughed his lungs out. It was small and bloody. He didn’t know what to think of it, so he didn’t. Maybe he swallowed something when he was flying, who knows. It wasn’t anything to worry about, he decided.

And then it happened again. And again. And it’s been happening ever since, now two months later, only getting worse and worse as the days go by. It was only after a week that he looked up his symptoms, the flowers and the blood and the constant pain in his chest, and the internet said there was only one thing it could be. 

Hanahaki disease. It originated in Japan, apparently, and was rare, but real. Keigo skipped past all the useless information to find what he really needed. He found it’s a disease where someone coughs up flowers due to unrequited feelings for somebody. And he knew, the minute he read those words, that his unrequited feelings were for you.

Keigo had never loved anyone in his life. Not his parents, for obvious reasons, and his training at the Hero commission had meant that he had no time for it anywhere else. Not that there was anybody in there to love, anyway. And now, as a Pro hero with his own agency, he didn’t want love. It complicated things, and he was in no position for a relationship anyway. He barely had time for himself, so how could he deal with a relationship? So Keigo filled the empty parts of himself with meaningless sex with whoever he found. At parties, at award evenings. It was just the physicality of it, skin on his own. He craved it and got it where he could. It pissed his publicist to no end, but they usually kept quiet, and scandals always did good for the agency. 

And then he met you.

His assistant had quit. Something about better opportunities, work closer to home. He had flashed her his best smile, sent flowers to her home, and waited dutifully in his office for you to walk in the next day. And you did, perfectly pressed shirt and black skirt, smiling so sweetly at him and introducing yourself, and he knew it was over. 

It’s not his fault. What couldn’t he love about you? You were funny, you were kind. You brought him breakfast every morning and started leaving a pillow and a blanket in his office when you knew he’d come off a night shift. You actually spoke to him like he was a person, not Hawks, not the Number two hero. It didn’t take long for the feelings to start but he thought he was pushing them down well enough.

These flowers tell him he’s not. 

He flirts with you, and the two of you joke around, but nothing ever comes of it because he knows you don’t like him back. And even if you did, Keigo would never do you the horrible favour of burdening you with loving somebody like him.

Keigo sighs, pushing himself gingerly to his feet. He clears his throat and it stings from the acidity of throwing up. He moves on autopilot, shrugging on his coat and typing the laces on his boots. His mind races with thoughts of you, of how long he has left. The final stages are apparently whole flowers and he ignores the voice in the back of his mind that says judging by what he just coughed up, he’s getting dangerously close to the end.

The weather outside is cold and bitter. Keigo hates winter, hates how he has to bundle to avoid the sharp, piercing wind whenever he flies. It’s harder to patrol in the dark and you’re less likely to leave the agency for your lunch break, so it also means he can’t use it as an excuse to take you out. He steps out on his balcony, sliding the door behind him, and he shuts his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks in another life, he’d tell you. In another life maybe he was just an assistant like you, someone normal, someone you deserved. That after his shift he’d get to come home and you’d have cooked dinner or he’d bring home takeout. He craves normalcy, to have a home with someone, and he can’t help but dream it’s with you.

He slips his goggles on and pulls up the gaiter around his neck. He steps forward and with one strong flap of his wings he’s in the air. 

The flight to the agency doesn’t take long. Nothing really does, to be honest. He’s not patrolling today but he still keeps an eye on the ground, the sky still dark as the world wakes up around him. He lands deftly in his own office, and the wide windows being pushed open already lets him know you’re in the building too. He runs a hand through his hair, quickly checking his reflection to make sure he looks good. He does, obviously, but he can’t help but worry. There’s a familiar knock on his door, and you don’t wait for him to let you in before you enter.

Today, you’re wearing a long pair of trousers that hug your legs, the white blouse you have on buttoned up apart from the top two, a small sliver of skin exposed to show a small gold necklace he got for you at a Christmas party, holding two coffees.

His heart pounds and he coughs into his sleeve. Your eyebrows furrow and you step forward, empty hand reaching out.

“Are you okay, Hawks?” You ask, and he nods.

He clears his throat, swallowing away the feeling prickling it. He nods, flashing you a toothy grin. “Yeah, now that you’re here.”

You roll your eyes but he doesn’t miss the small smile on your face as you set his drink down on the table. He takes a long drink of it and you wince.

“God, I don’t know how you drink that. It’s more sugar than coffee.” You scrunch your nose and he shrugs.

“I need the energy, babe, you know that. All that flying around burns calories quickly.”

One of his feathers shuts the window, another two hanging up his coat. Your eyes follow quickly. He might be trying to impress you a little, but it’s been a long enough time of you watching this show that he’s sure it doesn’t do much. The skin tight thermal might, though. He may or may not be flexing a little when he stretches, but he doesn’t see any harm in that. 

You nod, pulling out your phone, eyes quickly averting away from him. “Okay, so. Luckily for you, today is just paperwork. No energy necessary.” You sigh, sitting down heavily. “I hate paperwork days.”

He knows exactly why. The long, tired hours of writing and reading. Anyone would hate it, but Keigo? Keigo loves paperwork days. A whole day with the two of you in a room? What couldn’t he love about that?

He sits down across from you. It feels a little weird, too formal, with you across his desk. He doesn’t use it much. His office is pretty empty. There's no decorations, no plants, nothing. It's empty because Keigo doesn’t care. He doesn’t like this office. The only thing he likes about it is that it’s the place he spends the most time with you. He wishes you were closer.

He coughs. There's a familiar feeling itching in his lungs and he begs to a God he doesn’t know that he won’t throw up flowers in front of you.

“Aw, come on. Paper days are fine. And I’ll order food for us later.”

You perk up at that. “Really? Let’s get yakitori.”

“And this is why I love you.” He coughs again and you peer at him.

“Are you okay? You keep coughing today.”

He nods. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’m good.”

You keep looking at him. “If you’re sick, go home.”

“No, I’m fine. The number two hero doesn’t get sick.”

You don’t look convinced but you hold up the first set of papers. His fingers brush against yours as he grabs them. The two of you sit in silence for all of five minutes before Keigo groans. You look up, amused.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “Me too. But as your assistant I have to tell you to keep going.”

Keigo pouts. You tap the pen in your hand against the desk.

“No way to get out of this?” He says. “Nope.”

“No work parties I can look forward to?”

You shake your head. Then you sit up suddenly. “Wait. Oh my god.”

Keigo sits up too, immediately mirroring your panic. His wings curl out behind him. You cover your face with your hands.

“What? You’re freaking me out, Y/N.”

“There is a work party! Tonight. That I’m supposed to be planning. And I completely forgot!” You groan.

Oh. That’s easier to deal with. “It’s fine, don’’t worry. We’ll sort it.” You shake your head and it ruffles your hair, and he wishes he could reach forward and brush it behind your ear. “No, I don't know what to do. It’s for Kaylee’s birthday! Everyone loves Kaylee, I love Kaylee, that’s why I offered to plan this for her.” You ramble.

Keigo catches most of your babble. He quickly moves off from behind his desk to stand in front of you, his hands coming to rest at your shoulders. “Breathe, girl.”

You do, chest moving up and down slowly. Like this, with you still seated and him standing, he towers over you. He thinks for a moment.

“Let’s just go now.”

“What?”

“We’ll just go get the stuff you need right now. Shouldn't be too much, right?”

Your eyes glance at the paperwork on the desk. “What about all that?”

He hums, and you look up at him again. This close, Keigo can see you so much clearer, so much brighter. Another cough rumbles in his chest and he ignores it. “We can do it another day. Blame it on me.”

You bite at your bottom lip, considering his offer. You stand up and nod, determined.

“Okay. Okay, let me get my coat. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

And then you’re out before he can say another word.

—----------

Keigo thinks this is torture. Real, honest to God torture.

You’d refused his offer to fly to the marketplace, so now the two of you were just walking down the street. He’d left his feathers at work, and changed into the most civilian outfit in the agency. It always felt weird without them on his back, the heavy weight something he’d been used to since he was born. But for you, Keigo thinks he might set them all on fire. 

What makes everything worse is that you’re walking with your arm linked in his. You had been since you’d walked out the agency, animatedly talking and pointing at the things around you. It was hard to focus on much when your fingers squeezed his bicep every time you saw something you liked. 

“Okay, so. I need a cake, and decorations. And like, snack food.”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am. Can we squeeze lunch in there?”

“There’s always time for lunch, Hawks.” 

The first stop the two of you end up at is a supermarket. You pass him a coin to grab a shopping cart and he immediately starts running around with it, and you tut.

“Hawks, enough. People are looking.”

Your words should sound annoyed, but there’s a soft fondness behind them that has his head reeling. You take the cart from his hands and he lets you walk ahead, because the feeling that he’s started to dread builds in his torso, and he grabs the tissue out of his pocket and he coughs.

It’s loud and grating and it scratches the back of his throat. He’s lucky that there’s nobody around to see him gag into his hand, the petals tickling as he spits, blood splattering against it. He breathes heavily, once, twice, and tears prick at his eyes. He curses, eyes screwed shut. Not today, not like this. Not when he finally has a day alone with you. He throws the tissue in the trash outside the shop, and goes in to find you.

He finds that grocery shopping is fun. He’s never actually been before. His groceries are kindly delivered by the Commission straight to his front door, so he’s never actually done this before. It’s exciting. He likes the little line you get between your eyebrows whenever you get annoyed at him for putting random things in the basket.

“Hawks, enough! We don’t need six loaves of bread!”

“We do! We can make those little hors d’oeuvres with like, pesto on them.”

You mumble some choice words under your breath, putting them all back. “Hawks, this isn’t some Hero commission party. We’re getting a bag of Doritos and dip and calling it a day.”

Keigo pouts and you drag him over to the basket. “Here, you push this.”

You take him to the produce aisle and he boos as your throw in a few vegetables sticks. Keigo gags again, holding up the celery sticks. You snatch them out his hand and toss them back in the car.

“Stop. We need something healthy so we can eat a carrot stick and feel good about the cake I’m going to buy.” You tap your head knowingly and he grins.

“I don’t look healthy enough as is?” He stretches out his arm and the windblower you’d found for him in the agency billows around his arms.

You snort, patting him on the chest. “Oh, yeah. You look great.” 

It leaves him winded, just for a second, and then he’s back.

The cake aisle is his favourite one. You steer him clearly away from the children’s cakes, because he’s sure you saw the light in his eyes when he noticed the Marvel cake. 

“Can we get chocolate?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I don’t know. You know what Kaylee likes?” You step a bit closer to the shelves, peering at the different boxes.

Keigo hums, tapping the corner of his chin. He walks around the cart until he’s right next to you. “How about that? Red velvet. And it looks cute.” He points to the one near you, arm reaching over and brushing against yours.

“Hm. Yes. That’s- Yes. Red velvet.” You nod.

Keigo glances at you and he finds the two of you are closer than he realised. He thinks if he leans in just slightly you’ll be kissing. He smiles, soft and sweet. 

“You look pretty this close.”

“So I look ugly from afar?” You joke, but you sound nervous.

Keigo's eyes dart to your lips. It’s so quick but he sees the way your cheeks flush. “You never look ugly. Don’t I compliment you enough?”

You shove him away softly, reaching for the red velvet cake.

“Enough out of you. Go grab candles.”

And Keigo does, in the next aisle over, and hopes you can’t hear him coughing up another handful of petals. 

———

The two of you finish up quickly, despite Keigo’s efforts to long out the day as much as he can. The coughing only gets worse, and he’s surprised you haven’t noticed the amount of times he disappears to hack up his lungs around the nearest corner.

But it’s fine, he tells himself. This is about you, about helping you. He can deal with this problem later. 

You, who are sitting across from him in the tiniest table known to man at his favourite yakitori place. Part of him is a little annoyed about the whole ‘civilian disguise’, because whenever the owner sees it’s him he always gets a few extra sticks. But he can’t complain. Your legs are touching his, seeing as you’d shoved the both of you in the farthest corner of the shop possible. Which also happens to be the smallest in the shop.

“Okay, so, when we get back I’ll set up everything and we’re done!” You speak around a mouthful of food, chicken almost falling onto the table.

He nods, mouth also full. “Perfect. And you’re sure you don’t need help setting up?”

You shake your head. “I should be good, there’s not that much to do.”

You place the now empty stick on the table, dusting your hands. “Thanks for this, Hawks. Really.” 

He just smiles. “Don't mention it. Anything for my favourite assistant.”

“Aren’t I your only assistant?”

“So? You’d still be my favourite if I had more.” 

You snort, picking up another stick. “Sure, sure.”

The grocery bags crinkle beneath the table. And like this, without his wings and without any eyes on him Keigo can be selfish and pretend like this is real. 

You glance around the restaurant. “I like this place. Why haven’t we come here before?”

Keigo shrugs, polishing off another two sticks. “It’s usually busy around our lunch time. We should come more though.”

You nod. “Definitely. There’s this ramen place too, we should go there. It’s by that supermarket we went to.”

It’s so casual, so calm, and his heart is racing. 

“Oh! I found this song. I think you’ll like it.”

You dig in your purse and pull out the same ratty wired earphones he makes fun of you for everyday. He rolls his eyes and you glare at him.

“No. Shut up.”

“Just let me buy you a nice pair of AirPods, babe. Seriously, these are dying.” He flicks the wire that’s covered in tape and you tut, pushing his hands away.

“Never. I'm a wired earphone supporter till I die. Come here.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, but they don’t really reach. “Fuck. Okay, wait.”

You stand up, dragging your chair so it’s right up next to his. You sit down, and your hand comes up to brush his hair out of the way so you can press the earphone in his ear. And if you see his breath hitch you don’t say anything. Just hit play, your own earphone in.

And the pure bliss of having you this close, close enough that he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, lasts about a minute before he starts coughing.

He reels it back as much as he can, wincing as he swallows the petals that try to crawl their way out his throat. He drinks water, washing away the taste of metal from his mouth and he barely even registers your hand on his shoulder.

“Hawks? Are you alright?” There’s panic clear as day on your face, and he nods.

“Y-Yes. Don’t worry, I think I just swallowed a piece of chicken wrong.”

You’re not convinced as easily as before. “That didn’t sound normal, Hawks. Should we take you to the doctor?”

“No, it’s fine, babe. I promise.” 

He holds up his pinkie. You just stare at him for a moment, eyes searching for a lie. But you seem to believe him, because your hand comes up and your finger curls around his.

——-

The party is going well, he thinks.

Kaylee looks happy. You did well with the decorations, as best as you could do with an office room and an hour. There’s pink balloons and streamers that Keigo wants to scream that he bought with you. But that’s stupid and desperate, so he doesn’t. 

You’d all sang and cheered as she blew out her candles. She looked nice but Keigo couldn’t keep his eyes off you, grinning so hard it was like your face was about to split in half. People were milling about now. Keigo likes to think he knows all his employees but he’d be lying if he said he recognised every face that had come to greet him.

There is one face he could recognise anywhere.

“Birdbrain! What are you doing here?”

Rumi’s voice is loud and full of energy, and he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face the second she claps him on the back.

“It’s almost like this is my agency.” He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“Kaylee and I know each other from ages ago. She used to intern when I was working with Best Jeanist.”

Keigo nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a guy approaching you. One of the office workers he can’t name. His wings are back on his body and he wishes he could send one over to listen to what you’re talking about.

“But- Are you even listening to me?” Rumi says.

“Yes. I am.”

“No. You’re not.” 

Rumi follows his eyeline, to where you’re handing out slices of cake. She nods, understandingly. “I see. Have you asked her out?”

“What? No. Why would I- She’s my assistant.” Keigo splutters.

Rumi laughs, clapping him on the shoulder once more. “Oh, Hawks. Has positions of power ever stopped you before?”

Keigo frowns. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to just hook up with her.”

“Oh.” Rumi looks at you again. “You actually like her?”

“Yes. No. It’s- It’s complicated.”

Rumi hums thoughtfully. The two of them were quite blatantly staring at you now, and Keigo is sure you’d be quite weirded out if you caught them. But he doesn’t need to worry about that, because your attention is stolen away by some guy. Keigo doesn’t even know his name because he’s some irrelevant worker that doesn’t even matter.

But he seems to matter to you. Because you are smiling and laughing, and you nudge his shoulder when he says something Keigo itches to hear.

“Well. Maybe try telling her. She won’t wait around forever.” Rumi nods towards you and he shakes his head.

“That’s… I don’t- Just leave it.” Keigo’s voice sounds bitter in a way he’s not used to, and Rumi peers at him.

“Birdbrain? You doing okay there?”

He’s not. How could Keigo be doing okay, when Rumi is annoyingly right? You won’t wait forever. Keigo doesn’t even have forever. He has a few weeks left if his research is correct. And for some dumb reason Keigo didn’t seem to think about the fact that he might live to see you with someone else.

You move slightly closer to him, and Keigo’s fist clenches. 

He doesn’t even know the guy, but can he be surprised? You’re perfect, you’re you. It makes sense that he’s not the only one in love with you. Keigo sees the hand this guy places on your elbow, the way he smiles at you whenever you laugh. He knows that look because it’s how he looks at you everyday. 

And then it starts. Slow and slight. It stirs in his lungs, just a tickle, but he knows, he knows what comes next.

Rumi notices the way his face pales, and she shakes his arm. “Hawks? You’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

And he tries to answer, but all that comes out is a choking noise he can’t even recognise as a sound his own body made. And the feeling builds up all too quickly, and Keigo thinks he might be dying. He’s rushing out the room to try and make it to the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it further than out the door, because the pain in his chest is splitting, like somebody is trying to push their way out of his skin. He drops to the knees and he clutches at his stomach, and he coughs and coughs and there’s blood, and there’s flowers now, fully grown flowers-

And then everything goes dark.

——————

Keigo opens his eyes to the bright white ceiling of a hospital room. It’s not something he hasn’t seen before, and the slow blink back to life and the few seconds of peace before the pain kicks in are always the worst. He blinks harshly before slowly, slowly sitting up, arms almost buckling from his weight. 

He hates the weakness that comes with injury, the embarrassment. If he was still training at the commission they would’ve sent him back on the field before he’d even gotten up. But, he doubts he’d have gotten a disease quite like this over there.

It’s only after he’s pushed himself into a sitting position that he sees you. 

Arms crossed as your head leans back against the wall behind you, asleep. He has no idea how long it’s been, but judging by the fact you’re still wearing the clothes you were wearing in the office, he assumes it’s the same day. He glances out the window and its pitch black.

And you look beautiful. Even with the mascara smudged beneath your eyes, the worry on your face even visible in your sleep. Keigo looks away, but not before you wake up and catch him staring. You blink like you might be dreaming, before you bring your chair closer to him.

“Hawks. You’re- You’re awake.” You whisper the words like if you say them too loudly they might not be true.

He smiles as best as he can. “Hey, pretty. The party still going on without me?” He tries for a joke but your eyes prick with tears. 

“Don’t. Don’t joke right now. Nothing about this is funny.” You sound serious in a way he’s never heard before, and some sick, twisted part of himself is giddy that it’s all for him.

“You promised you were fine.”

Keigo wants to turn away because the hurt on your face is his fault.

“I’m sorry. I just-“ He sighs. “Did you see?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone else see?”

“No. Rumi stopped them from coming out into the hall.”

He nods. You shake your head, hand coming up to rub at your eyes. 

“How long has it been?” He asks.

You check your watch. “It’s one in the morning so. About six hours.”

Keigo falters. “Wait- You’ve been here for six hours?”

You frown. “Well obviously. I- They said I’m your emergency contact. And someone had to be here to tell you what the doctor said.”

He knows already. From the sharp pain in his chest he knows.

“I’m assuming you know it’s Hanahaki?”

He nods. You nod.

“You-“ You curse. It takes a few moments for you to get the words out.

“He said you don’t have long. The petals, he said they’re starting to look like flowers. Fully grown ones. And that means you’re in the final stages.” Your voice cracks and Keigo thinks he might throw up again.

“Okay.”

You pause. “Okay? Is that all you have to say? Okay?”

Keigo frowns. “Y/N, I-“

“Do you not get it, Hawks? You’re going to die. He says you’re going to die if you don’t either tell the person or- get the surgery done.”

Keigo shakes his head immediately. “I’m not doing the surgery.”

Your lip quivers and you pull yourself even closer. Your hand grabs his and it’s cold where his is warm, and you squeeze. 

“You have to, Hawks. The world can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.” You whisper.

And your words sound so raw, so vulnerable, and it tears at his inside more than the roses growing inside them.

“Just try. Try, okay? Tell them how you feel and see. It- It might be reciprocated. It definitely will be. I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?” You laugh wetly, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

But there’s something else behind them.

Jealousy.

And there’s a small flicker of hope that grows beneath his bones. And he looks at you then, at the tears that gather on the bottom of those fluttering eyelashes. And he reaches up, brushes the curve of your cheek.

And your breath hitches. He feels the heat on your face from how close he is, and he thinks he might cry.

“It’s not fair.” His voice sounds so weak, so awfully weak and he wants to scream. 

“What is? What’s not fair?” You ask.

“I can’t tell her. I don’t deserve her.”

You look so confused. Like he’s said the dumbest thing in the world. “What?”

“I’m not- I work almost everyday, and when I am off I’m too tired to do anything. My place is more of a prison cell than an apartment. I- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. Never even thought about it. I can’t- I’m not allowed, Y/N.”

And now his voice cracks and your hand squeezes tighter. And his voice sounds unfamiliar. This desperation, the frantic panic that fights against his words is so unlike him. Keigo has never been vulnerable with anybody in his life, but that look in your eyes makes him feel like he can tell you everything. All the dirty horrible secrets he keeps locked inside himself.

“It’s not fair. I don’t know if I can even be there for someone. It’s why I never said anything, I didn’t want to mess up a relationship that’s so important for me for one I can’t even commit to. It’s not fair on you, Y/N. You deserve better.”

He feels like there’s a weight that’s left his shoulder when he finishes speaking, rambled words he can barely remember. He’s out of breath when he’s done. Waiting anxiously for you to say something. Maybe this real version of Keigo is too much for you. He has half a mind to tell you it was just a joke, he didn’t mean it if it means you’ll stop looking so shocked. Keigo just needs you to say something.

“I deserve better?”

He doesn’t expect that. “What?” He says, confused.

You swallow roughly and he watches the sharp lines of your throat as you do so. “You said ‘you deserve better’. You as in, me. As in… I’m the one you have feelings for?”

Shit.

“I- Did I say that? I think it’s the medicine, it’s making me all-“

“Are you in love with me, Hawks?”

The room isn’t silent. The machines he’s hooked up to all make a low humming noise, and he can hear people and nurses walking and talking outside. But when you say those words it feels like the world has stopped. 

He could lie. But Keigo won’t get the surgery, so he figures he might as well let you know how he feels before he dies.

“Yes.”

You freeze for a moment. Then your hands come up to cover your face and he immediately misses the contact. And then your shoulders start shaking and he thinks you're crying.

Keigo sighs. “It’s not that awful of a thing. No reason to cry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m laughing.”

When you look back up at him there are in fact tears running down your face, but you look happy. And hope claws its way out of him.

“This funny to you?”

“No. Your stupidity is, though.” 

Keigo is quiet for a moment, confused. “Do you mind elaborating on that?”

“Hawks, do you think it’s normal that I do all your paperwork with you? Or that we get lunch together almost everyday? Do you think any other assistant in all of Japan would stay as late as their boss, especially when he’s a top ten Pro hero who rarely finishes before ten in the evening?”

“I-“

“Do you think it’s normal that I wear this necklace you bought me everyday?” And you reach into your shirt and pull it out, the gold catching against the light.

“Hawks, I spend every waking second I’m in that agency with you if I can help it. I’ve had job offers a million times better than what I do for you, and I’ve rejected every single one because I wanted to be with you.”

Keigo doesn’t say anything. You grab his hand again, but it feels a little more threatening this time.

“You don’t get to decide if I deserve you or not, I do. It’s- I can’t believe you. I don’t care about all that. We’ll figure it out together.”

And Keigo just closes his eyes, because this can’t be real. He must be dreaming, because Keigo doesn’t get things like this. Love. Nothing like that look on your face that’s all for him.

“You sure you're not just saying this because I’m dying?”

And you laugh, and let your tears fall freely, and Keigo can finally breathe clearly for the first time in months.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this is for lysa if ur anyone else stop reading...?

JKKKKK guys i love hawks so much i can't explain... he was my lover for so long i miss him

also i loved writing this i literally did it in ONE NIGHT?? plz give me more ideas pookas

LOVE U ALLL HAVE A GOOD NIGHT

it’s more of a random ass hc, but whatever, i wanna share my shit with you. my one (1) keigo thought is that he overworks himself around the time of the holidays (+ his birthday) cause like almost every other big name pro has a family and keigo’s all like, “nah, you gotta go home to your family, man! i can cover your patrol with no problem!!” since he doesn’t do anything special for the holidays. he wouldn’t want another kid to have to deal with a shitty holiday season all cause their parent wasn’t there

and then gf y/n saves the day and makes crime stop for the holiday season so keigo can rest and have a good holiday for once in his life. trust me, im actually hori

hi so i could've made this a little angsty but rue said she would kill me and publicly humiliate me if i did. so. sweetness of course <3

"hey," your voice startles keigo out of the paperwork he was nose-deep in. his curls hang over his eyes and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. strained and very obviously tired, like he's been trying to keep himself busy with paperwork he should not be doing. you set down the paper cup in your hand next to him on his desk, motioning towards it. "brought you your favorite."

keigo just stares at you. he's not sure what to say. he's not sure if he should say anything. it's the first christmas the two of you have spent together, and he's here at the office, working. he already felt bad about not being with you tonight-- but you had told him you were going to your mother's for the holiday. you had already assured him that it was fine that the two of you didn't spend it together. the two of you were opening gifts as a couple in the morning, that's what you two agreed on.

"baby--"

you don't let him finish. "drink your coffee, hawks."

the office is empty, aside from the two of you. everyone else is home with their families and children, after keigo had offered to stay and finish paperwork for them. he had nothing better to do, he had all night and was going to spend tomorrow with you anyways. he could afford the eyestrain for the night.

the fact that you respected him enough not to use his real name in public sent a small shiver down his spine. "it's just us here, angel."

he watches as you look around, your eyes scanning empty cubicles before leaning your hip into the side of the desk. a sigh leaves your mouth and you lean down to press a tender kiss to his temple. you repeat your earlier statement, "drink your coffee, keigo."

a grin spreads onto his lips and he reaches for the cup. he can feel the warmth through the paper, he catches a whiff before sipping and sighs when the taste of hazelnut and caramel hit his taste buds. he always thanks the heavens that you remembered his usual coffee order so quickly and easily.

"i thought you were with your mom," he says after a moment, setting the cup back down a clearing a spot on his desk. you take it as an invitation to jump up and plant yourself on the corner, like you always do when you come and visit him during the work day.

"i was," you respond. your feet dangle and swing a little, your hand reaches out to brush that one unruly curl of his that never likes to stay in it's spot. "too much whiskey in her eggnog. passed out around 9:30."

keigo snorts. he loves your mother. "so you come to hang out with me?"

"of course," you reply in a slight incredulous tone. "where else would i go?"

keigo takes a good look at you. he's always found you attractive, even more so when dressed up, even in sweats and a ratty old t-shirt of his. you look sweet-- just a basic white sweater and dark jeans, your winter boots knotted twice around the ankles because they're a size too big for you. the bottoms are wet, which must mean it's either snowing, or raining outside. he doesn't need to look towards the window to find out, it doesn't matter to him.

"thank you," he says, after a moment of silence. "for keeping me company, babe."

you lean down to catch his lips lovingly, pulling away only the slightest bit. your nose knocks against his, the taste of his coffee on your lips when you run your tongue along them. "i love you," your murmur. "don't thank me for company i give you willingly."

keigo feels a smile spread onto his lips and he hums appreciatively. "i love you too," he murmurs in response, leaning in for another kiss.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

andy a snippet of pornstar bakugo please i beg

Omg of course!!! I didn't realize how much I missed answering asks for snippets until now. 🥺 Here is a lil teeny one:

“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.” Bakugou watched you silently for a long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.  “Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone. You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?” “If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk.

.ᐟ sign this for me

k.takami smau

when you’re the assistant to the #2 hero

a/n: i made an exception with half my screen missing to post for keigo’s birthday. back into my hole i go

m.list

switch up

feat: hitoshi shinsou

warnings / cache notes: language, weed/smoking mention, that’s abt it

req 📌: ❌ @poemeater baby this is for us (for you)

m.list

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

if husband! katsuki had a dream that you served him divorce papers, he would be SO mad at you.

katsuki woke up with a start, his chest heaving as the remnants of the vivid dream clung to his mind. in the dream, you had stood in front of him, utterly calm, as you handed him his worst nightmare: divorce papers.

“it's not you, its me,” you said, your expression indifferent as if breaking his heart meant nothing. "i'm just bored, katsuki."

it wasn’t real, he knew that. but the image of you walking away from him felt too real, too painful. the words echoed in his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. bored? how could you say that after everything you've been through? even though it was just a dream, it shook him to near death.

and when katsuki saw you later that morning, smiling and greeting him like usual, he couldn’t help but scowl. normally, the sight would calm him, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal bubbled up inside him. how could dream-you say something like that? and why couldn’t he shake the feeling?

“morning, katsuki,” you said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to brush his jaw instead. you blinked, confused. “uh… everything okay?”

“fine,” he muttered, getting up and leaving you all alone in the bed.

all day, katsuki avoided your texts, kept his responses curt, and barely looked your way when you crossed paths at home. you quickly realized something was off but couldn’t figure out what. by evening, you had enough.

"okay, whats your problem? you've been sulking all day,” you said firmly, standing in front of him while he sat on the couch. “you’ve been acting like i killed your damn dog. what did i do?”

katsuki glared at you, his emotions finally bubbling over. “you left me! that’s what you did!”

you stared at him, completely baffled. “what are you talking about? i didn’t leave you. i’ve been here all day!”

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “fine. i had this stupid dream, alright? you—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “you divorced me. you said you were bored and just... left me.”

for a moment, there was silence as you processed what he was saying. then, to katsuki’s annoyance, you started laughing.

“you’re mad at me... because of a dream?” you asked, your laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

“it felt real!” he barked, his cheeks flushing slightly. “you don’t get to laugh! this isn't fuckin' funny! do you know how shitty that felt?!”

“i’m sorry!” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach. “it’s just… do you really think i’d ever do that?”

katsuki’s scowl deepened. “its not that. its just... you said it so casually in the dream. like i didn’t even matter.”

you tried to stifle your laughter, but your amusement was clear as day. “katsuki... you’re everything to me. i would never leave you. ever. especially not because i was bored. you’re the opposite of boring. you’re the most stubborn, infuriating, incredible man I’ve ever met.”

he grunted, looking away. “tch. doesn’t change the fact that it felt real.”

you bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. you could see how much the dream had affected katsuki, even if it wasn’t real. determined to make it up to him, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face in your hands.

“i’m sorry your brain decided to torture you like that,” you said softly before leaning in to pepper his face with kisses. “but let me remind you of how much i love you.”

your lips pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. each kiss was light and playful, drawing a reluctant smirk from him.

“sweets,” katsuki muttered, trying to keep up the tough act, but you didn’t let up.

you continued your attack, kissing down his jaw and back to his lips, murmuring between kisses. “i'm so happy you're my husband.”

katsuki finally relented, his hands settling on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “you’re fuckin' weird.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you teased. “but i love you anyway.”

“hmph. i love you too,” he admitted, his voice softer now as his arms wrap around you, brushing your nose against his. “sorry for being an idiot today.”

“you’re not an idiot. just... talk to me about it next time, okay?”

"fine. be my fuckin' wife for forever, 'kay?"

"i promise," you cut him off with a kiss.

and katsuki kissed you back, finally letting the tension melt away, drowning himself in the taste of your and your presence. you're here. you weren't gonna leave him because he was bored. you never would.

"tch. i’m still blaming you for my bad dreams though."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧