Summary:
After a distressing call from a Japanese hospital, you learn your friend Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) has briefly awoken from her coma and is desperately screaming for you.
She makes a final request: take care of her students if she doesn't survive.
So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.
Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new art teacher and soon so is their grump of a teacher.
With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.
All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...
Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.
Song: SZA - Good Days
----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------
The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.
In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.
Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.
Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!
As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.
Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.
"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.
Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.
Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.
The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance.
Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.
Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes.
Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.
Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "
Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose.
The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"
Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.
Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"
Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.
Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.
"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this.
He needed this.
"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.
"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.
Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.
Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.
Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.
Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.
Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.
Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.
Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.
"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.
Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.
The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.
Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air.
Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.
Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book.
"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.
Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"
Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.
Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options.
Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.
Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.
"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.
In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints.
"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.
Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.
Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd.
Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.
Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.
Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.
As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices.
Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.
"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.
Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"
With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.
When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously.
Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.
Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"
Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire.
Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.
"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative.
Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's.
She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.
The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.
The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.
"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative.
"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."
Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.
"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.
They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.
"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."
Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.
Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.
There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.
---
As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!"
"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.
Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.
Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"
Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.
The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.
In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.
"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..
"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.
"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.
"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."
As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.
Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."
Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.
Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."
“Ugh, lame!”
Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.”
After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”
“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.
"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."
With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.
Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.
As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:
Name: Mall stopper
Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.
Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.
Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude.
Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed.
Seemed to recognize me?
Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.
He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.
But he knew he couldn’t sleep.
Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.
"Hi baby! How was your day?"
"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.
"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.
“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.
Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”
Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that.
"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.
“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”
“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.
"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.
As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.
“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling.
The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering.
The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze, the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.
As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.
He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.
In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,
---
As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall.
Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.
His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background.
“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”
Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"
“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.
"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.
A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."
"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."
Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."
There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."
The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.
"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.
‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’
Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace.
For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.
He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.
The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.
He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized.
Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.
Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone.
And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.
---
Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket.
In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion.
Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.
Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp.
She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.
The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions.
Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.
Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure.
His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.
In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters.
Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused.
He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.
How it mocked him now.
Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night.
Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.
In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape.
The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.
Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides.
Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told.
They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.
In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm.
Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.
Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace.
In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness.
Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.
Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay.
Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off.
Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet. The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.
The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.
The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young.
And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals.
Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.
Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.
His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma.
He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity.
Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.
Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.
Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered.
As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?
Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.
He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes.
Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.
Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews.
Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.
He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?
Because he knew they were all suffering.
Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.
He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.
Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer.
The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.
As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.
It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.
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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!
That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.
I own none of the images or art!!!
Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou x Sugar Baby Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.
I promise I bite~
See you soon my loves!!
(。・ω・。)ノ♡
ᴋᴀᴛѕᴜᴋɪ'ѕ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ | bakugou x fem!reader, fluff
for how long katsuki brushes his teeth with such aggressiveness his toothbrush is… worn out if that's how you describe it. if you think of it, he just might have broken atleast one of his teeth long time ago.
as his girlfriend you worry about him, everytime he brushes his teeth you're there glaring at him, your eyes telling him to slow down. but of course at some point you can't help but to take care of him, now you're the one brushing katsuki's teeth.
at first, katsuki feels quite embarrassed, he looks away at anything else but you. you're so close, cupping his cheeks with one hand and your other hand holding the brush. you're so focused that you make cute faces. when you finished, you admire his lips and give it a peck which katsuki became more flustered about.
when you two get used to this routine it became normal that katsuki gets a peck at the end as a price for katsuki being a good boy. it gets even cuter at night time and it's a little past katsuki's bedtime, he has droopy eyes while he has his arms wrapped around you, he's barely keeping his mouth open for you to do your job.
ᴋᴀᴛѕᴜᴋɪ'ѕ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ | bakugou x fem!reader, fluff
for how long katsuki brushes his teeth with such aggressiveness his toothbrush is… worn out if that's how you describe it. if you think of it, he just might have broken atleast one of his teeth long time ago.
as his girlfriend you worry about him, everytime he brushes his teeth you're there glaring at him, your eyes telling him to slow down. but of course at some point you can't help but to take care of him, now you're the one brushing katsuki's teeth.
at first, katsuki feels quite embarrassed, he looks away at anything else but you. you're so close, cupping his cheeks with one hand and your other hand holding the brush. you're so focused that you make cute faces. when you finished, you admire his lips and give it a peck which katsuki became more flustered about.
when you two get used to this routine it became normal that katsuki gets a peck at the end as a price for katsuki being a good boy. it gets even cuter at night time and it's a little past katsuki's bedtime, he has droopy eyes while he has his arms wrapped around you, he's barely keeping his mouth open for you to do your job.
ft. katsuki bakugo x reader
summary: bakugo losing you in a fight
The battlefield was a graveyard of destruction, littered with smoking rubble, twisted metal, and the lingering echoes of chaos. Katsuki Bakugo stood frozen in the aftermath, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, his hero suit tattered and burned, but none of that mattered. Not when his crimson eyes were locked on the lifeless body lying in the debris-strewn street.
You.
His hands trembled at his sides, caked in soot and dried blood. The once-bright explosions he wielded with such precision had dimmed, his palms now useless as they twitched at his sides. His knees buckled as he took slow, hesitant steps forward, his vision blurring at the edges.
“Nah… Nah, no fuckin’ way…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper, as he dropped to his knees beside you. His heart pounded violently in his chest, his mind refusing to process what lay before him.
Your body—so warm, so full of life just hours ago—was now cold and motionless. Blood pooled beneath you, a deep crimson that stained the pavement, seeping into the cracks like it belonged there. A deep gash ran along your side, your hero suit torn, burned, and shredded beyond recognition. The color had drained from your face, and your once-bright eyes were closed, as if you were simply asleep.
But you weren’t.
You weren’t breathing.
You weren’t waking up.
“No…” Bakugo reached out, hesitating before his fingertips brushed against your cheek. Your skin was icy beneath his touch. His breath hitched, his throat tightening to the point of suffocation. “No, dammit—wake up. Get up, get up.”
Silence.
His hands curled into fists as he slammed them onto the pavement beside your body. His explosions sputtered weakly, flickering like dying embers, as if they, too, were grieving with him. His shoulders shook as his head fell forward, his forehead pressing against yours.
He could still remember the last thing you said to him: —“Be careful, Katsuki. I’ll see you when this is over.”
But you wouldn’t.
You weren’t coming back.
A guttural sound ripped from his throat, raw and broken, as his grief consumed him. He was Katsuki Bakugo, the strongest, the best, the one who won.
So why the fuck hadn’t he won this time?
Why hadn’t he protected you?
The battle had been brutal, a war against a villain who had been too powerful, too ruthless. The fight had pushed everyone to their limits, but Bakugo had been so sure he could keep you safe. You had fought side by side, just like always, watching each other’s backs.
And then—
Then you had shoved him out of the way.
His mind replayed the moment in agonizing detail. The way you had thrown yourself forward, the way your body had shielded his. The explosion that followed, the blinding light, the deafening roar. The smell of burning, of smoke, of blood.
Your blood.
His hands clawed at his hair as he let out a ragged, shuddering breath. “You fuckin’—why?!” His voice broke mid-scream, the anguish ripping through him like a blade. “Why’d you do that, huh?! Why the hell did you save me?!”
You weren’t supposed to.
He was supposed to be the one standing over your body, not the other way around.
You were supposed to yell at him for being reckless. You were supposed to slap his shoulder and roll your eyes when he got too cocky. You were supposed to be here, alive.
Not like this.
Not like this.
His vision blurred with tears he refused to acknowledge, his hands gripping at your body as if holding you tighter would somehow bring you back. His breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, his body trembling as his fingers brushed over your bloodstained lips.
He was The Katsuki Bakugo.
He was supposed to be the strongest.
So why… why couldn’t he save the person who mattered most?
The sound of approaching footsteps barely registered in his mind. Someone was calling his name—Deku, Todoroki, maybe even Kirishima—but he didn’t turn. He didn’t care.
Because in that moment, the world around him was empty. Cold. Silent.
Just like you.
The battlefield was eerily quiet now. The smoke still curled in lazy tendrils, the rubble still groaned under its own weight, but to Katsuki Bakugo, the world had already gone still. His chest heaved as he held onto you, arms wrapped around your broken form, his fingers curled into the fabric of your tattered hero suit. The warmth had long since faded from your skin, and yet he clung to you as if he could force it back, as if sheer willpower alone could bring you back.
He didn’t care about the blood soaking through his gloves, didn’t care about the way his own wounds stung and throbbed. None of it mattered—not when you were gone.
He didn’t even register the voices at first. They were distant, muffled, like he was underwater.
“Bakugo…” A familiar voice—hoarse, choked with emotion. Midoriya.
Bakugo didn’t move.
“Bakugo, we need to—”
A hand reached for his shoulder, but the second he felt it, something in him snapped.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” His voice was raw, his body trembling as he pulled you closer, shielding you like they were trying to rip away the last piece of you he had left. His throat ached from how hard he was breathing, his teeth clenched so tightly they felt like they’d crack. “Don’t… don’t you dare—”
“Bakugo, please,” Kirishima tried, his own voice unsteady. His red eyes were wet, pained, his usually sturdy stance uncertain. “We— we have to move her. We can’t leave her like this.”
Like this.
Like you were just another body to clean up after a battle. Like you weren’t his whole damn world, the one person he would have burned everything down for.
His head shook violently, his fingers tightening around your lifeless form. “No,” he choked out, voice breaking. “No, she’s—she’s gonna wake up. She always gets up. Just… just give her a second, alright?” His voice cracked on the last word, desperation dripping from every syllable. “She’s just tired.”
Midoriya made a strangled sound from behind him, and Bakugo could hear the way he was barely holding it together. “Kacchan…”
“SHUT UP!” His voice tore through the air, but it held no bite, only pain. His vision swam as his forehead pressed against yours, his breath fanning over your cold skin. “You can’t… you can’t leave me like this. You promised.”
You had promised him forever.
He never wanted forever without you.
His whole body shook as the weight of it all began to crush him. The reality, the finality. You weren’t waking up. No matter how tightly he held you, no matter how much he screamed, how much he begged—
You were gone.
A strangled sob ripped from his throat as his body curled around yours. The tears that had threatened to fall finally broke free, streaming down his dirt-streaked face as his entire world shattered in his hands. His arms trembled, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, your hair, trying to memorize every last detail before it was too late.
They tried again, and this time, he didn’t fight back.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t explode.
Because he was empty.
He barely felt it when Kirishima’s hands grabbed his shoulders, barely registered the way Midoriya knelt beside him, his own face streaked with silent tears. They were talking, pleading with him, but the words didn’t reach him.
His body was being pulled away from yours, and he felt himself breaking all over again, arms stretching out desperately as if he could somehow reach you again.
“Please,” his voice was barely above a whisper now, so hoarse, so weak. “Please don’t take her from me…”
And as he crashed against Kirishima’s chest, sobbing so hard his whole body convulsed, Katsuki Bakugo finally understood what it meant to lose.
And Katsuki Bakugo, for the first time in his life, had lost his everything.
© sakuraszn! xoxo
PT 2:; Hyperspermia on Sub!choso
(term—hyperspermia: a condition where the male has an abnormally large amount of semen; above 6ml)
an nsfwaudio of the inspo
"f- fuck me.." Choso whined—voice so high-pitched from how your hand's squeezing around him. "fuck m-me- ohh, p-please.. fuck me."
He didn't really expect for you to barge in the bathroom because of your worry on why he's so suddenly letting out loud noises in the room—nor did you expect him to be holding his semi-hard cock in hand with his cum splattered right down, making a large mess.
Annnnd, he also didn't expect for you to lock the bathroom door—make him a mess with your left hand whilst your right hand shoved your phone near his mouth to record his moans for 'later.'
And there he was—tired, you kept stroking the base of his dick, the tip becoming so red that it's redness is spreading to half the base from the many, many times you've edged him. Not to mention—the amount of pre-cum that's been coming out all over his dick and your hands, making it seem like he'd cum already multiple times though it's the opposite. The stickiness was so much—that he knew the recording would definitely hear those lewdly sounds.
He was tired—but fuck, did he just want your sweet pussy around him, fleshy walls tightening around his swollen cock.
"mommy—" he slipped, covering it with a following moan; "p- ppft- p- please.." Choso gasped, "fuck me.. p- please." His teary eyes widened as he looked up at you desperately, realizing his high is once again close—"s- sslow down.."
He begged—yet you continued your pace, stroking his cock up! And down, you held his chin as you pressed closer to him. You sighed his name; "Choso.. such a mess you're making." You teased, pulling his head closer to your's by his chin.
"haa- ha- haaa- fuck" he begs again—"Please.. I need- n- nneed your pretty pussy on me- p- please.." his sweaty hand desperately clinged on your wrist. "Fuck me.." he whispered. "I wanna feel like m' yours"
As his words spilled out his mouth—an abundance of his cum squirted out of his tip, white covering all over his cock and her hands—he squeaked; "t- too much"
"It's s- ssuch a waste, can you- can I have you n- now? Please? So- soo I can put it all inside you.."
Hello!! Finally, part 2.. though yes there's a part three, sorry, I cant freaking do a long ahh paged smut rn I'm busy but I hope this will feed you<3
Also, if you comment I'll tag you on the next part, thank you :c
Tags: @mythingsrhere @piixcelz @soozeu @psychobitchsyndrome @shinyfestmilkshake @namasaya
can you do something where katsuki is obsessed with readers tits
“baby, its been a good three hours, lighten up.”
“mm.”
another choso if you will, pushing at his head and then wincing when he gives a light nip to your nipple. “ow– you shit!”
katsuki’s way of saying “i love your tits.” is sucking on them like hes being breastfed, yet hes a dick with it. he stays there for hours and wont move. and if you bother him he bites.
“baby, i have to pee.”
“get a fuckin’ catheter then.” he grunts, no purposely laying on your bladder. he gets comfortable, sucking at the now numb nipple.
“boy if you dont move i will piss on you.”
“piss on me then, i dont care.”
you groan, tugging his hair and your nipple comes out with a pop. he looks at you, a disapproving look.
“can i fuckin help ya?”
“whats up with you and my tits? been like this every day.” you ask, concerned yet in awe because hes always been more active, not passive.
he takes both breasts into each hand. “love these, y’know?” he says, trying to lean back down and go to a free nipple, but you still held his hair. he yanks his head down, attaching himself to a dark nipple and sucking soft again.
OL-F*CK-TORY ETHICS?!
Synopsis. Pheromone perfume? Should’ve thought about the olfactory ethics of driving him absolutely wiId with them.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pheromone perfume (they’re affected), they go FÉRAL, slight aphrodísiacs, creampíes, dúmbification, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, overstím, really néedy boys, GOJO’S POWERS, full neIsons, making Geto whímper, handcúffs (Geto), rough s, p sIapping, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Yes, I think I’m a comedian for that title.
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BREAK HIM!
“P-please-”
“Hm?”
“Please, doll…”
And it’s the first time in your life that you’ve heard Toji Fushiguro beg - the first ever time in his life that he has. Low, rasping over the deafening snap! of the poor headboard splitting in half, “Mercy- m’begging ya. Mercy.”
It’s hard to think that just a few hours ago, he was trying not to snicker with smugness - pheromone perfume. Really? As if anything in that shiny, half-off bottle could make him lose his composure.
“Such a silly girl–” Toji had rolled his sage eyes down at you. Tutting at the way you were impatiently sprawled over his lap, waiting for his word. Leisurely, he’d leaned in– well whatever his lady wants. “Told ya already, this stuff isn’t gonna m-make me-”
Oh.
And that was hours ago. Hours.
But here Toji was bullying his furiously sweat-slicked face into the heady crook of your neck - taking only one singular whiff before he flinches. Hips rutting mindlessly into yours with a smack! “O-oh, we’re not making it hngh! outta this alive, ma.”
It was the fourth time in the past few minutes that he’s babbling those very words into your perspired skin. The fourth time.
He was broken.
Managing out only a few throaty whimpers when you’re shuffling onto your elbows, all you have to do is give one fluttering squeeze of your gummy walls before something hits your arched spine with a wet splat!
Multiple. Tears.
“F-fuuuuck–” He’s hissing, sexy baritone thickened with clingy sobs. And the only thing sloppier than Toji’s unsteady tone, was his cock. Ruthless. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–”
“Need a lil’ h-help, baby?” You find yourself purring, head tilting ever-so-slightly over your shoulder to bare Toji with even more of your scented throat. Clouded wafts of it puffing over to his darkened features and making him gasp– “Because-”
In only a split-second, you’re not even sure what you were about to say - what happened other than Toji shoving you face-first into the cushy pillow in nanoseconds.
Staggering strength leaving the bulging biceps on his big, beefy arms flex, and you keening away into your soft landing. Boneless legs stumbling onto the bed once he tilts his bodyweight onto yours and makes you stumble, “T-Tooji—!”
Oh, the sound of his name in your honeyed tone makes Toji’s hulking voice break out in shivers.
“S-s’it turn you on ta see me like this?” Punctured with solid, pounding plaps! of his bloated tip against your springy cervix, such a staggering size that tenderized every sliver inside your heated cunt without even trying. His massive arms tremble, “To see me a-all pathetic and ngh- weak?”
Weak.
But the way he was pinning you down onto the creaking bedcoils and slamming jagged bruises onto your mounds of flesh from behind was anything but.
“M-maybe?” Oh, he definitely was fucking you stupid - because you find yourself giggling. Globs of slippery drool overspilling from your slack maw and drenching the puffy pillow underneath you. So wet n’ utterly filthy that it makes your thighs squeeze, “You’re s-so cute, Toji.”
“Don’t- don’t you fuckin’–” Immediately leaving one spank on your puffed-up clit. Two. Three, just for good measure- shit, Toji really can’t help but bring those sappy, glazed-over fingerpads to his mouth and sucking.
And the sugary sweet taste makes the man moan.
“Fuck- fuck, did that p-perfume make her taste even sweeter or what?”
Before you know it, Toji’s hard, Herculean front is sagging downwards into yours - hunching over, collapsing. He can barely keep his eyelids held open, let alone his glissading body.
Sinking you ever-deeper into the plush mattress, you swear you could count each and every rock-hard ab pressing into you. The curvy massage of Toji’s pecs rendering your mouth to let off a soft mewl.
And he’s rough above you. Still fucking you in a way that makes your sturdy bed splinter. Dark tufts from Toji’s happy trail scratching the very tip-top of your papping ass with every merciless whack.
“Gonna tell ya a s-secret-” He spills in breathy puffs against your ear, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose against where your perfume was the most potent. Drinking you in. Gasping. “-b-better not tell ngh- anyone- got it, ma?”
And you almost get the urge to tilt your head back and confirm that this was really your Toji.
Because not only were his choked-up words making you dizzy, so was the way that he sounded right about not. Voice numerous octaves higher, cracking.
You’d have half the mind to tease him about it if the entirety of your fuzzy head wasn’t completely overtaken by simply the thought of Toij Toji Toji-
“Oi- oi!” Three harshly repeated smacks to the side of your cheek wrench you from your little daydream, until you’re being manhandled with a few fingers around your throat to gaze up at the man himself. Growling, “N-no zonin’ out on me just yet- gotta tell ya h-how much it turns me on, too…”
Oh? Oh.
And as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Can’t slow down the prattling words spat into your mouth - all teeth and something lecherous.
You’re squealing once one of his splayed-out palms rover to the bumpy outline of him fucking a tummy bulge into you.
Skimming across until he could practically feel the rapid ba-dump–! ba-dump–! ba-dump–! being crashed into all your magical spots, “L-look at you taking it allll. Look how hard I am- feel how hngh- fucking hard–”
He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for you to know. For you to feel.
Another heavy gulp of the thick air surrounding you two - of that familiar candied smell - and he’s like an animal. Swollen cock stretching your goopy walls until they were wiiidely agape, throbbing a few solid centimeters wider in circumference.
“How fucking big. Yeah? Hngh- t-takin’ it all like a big girl, aren’t ya?”
Getting harder just from the perfume. From you.
One hand desperately claws at his own bustling bulge, the other smearing over your overstuffed pussy.
“O-oh, god-” Your eyes sprint needily to the back of your head, head pushing into the soaked pillows. Toji’s ministrations were heavenly, rubbing quick, jerky heart all over your sugar-coated clit. Faster. “K-keep doing that n’ m’gonna c-cum.”
“M’only getting harder. Needier- fuck, I need you-” Swirling his fat thumb in circles right on time with his globular tip, “My big girl- w-with her ngh- big perfumes. Fuck-” You don’t think Toji even registers when he plants a delicate peck where your scent was the strongest. Moaning. Before pressing two more, three, four- “Don’t want- Need you to c-cum f’me. Need to feel that ngh- pretty pussy cum ‘round my big fuckin’ cock.”
You’re raking your nails down his toned forearms, “Close. C-close.”
“Fucking cum.”
And when you so, your silken soft walls are squeezing Toji’s veiny shaft so tight that it takes him everything in him to fuck you through each white-hot peak. Dragging you across your starry high and then some-
Wiping away a trickling spray of his own drool, Toji feels himself laugh - low and humorless. You’ve found his weakness.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. CEO
Nanami Kento was a gentleman. The perfect sweetheart.
But that was the complete opposite of the way that said Nanami Kento currently had you shoved face-down into his cool mahogany office desk, your delirious tears spilling over in rippling puddles over the expensive wood while he fucked you like he hated you.
“Fuck-” he’s spitting into your open maw, fingers loosening his overpriced tie. Your popped ears ring with a sharp riiiip–! once he tugs your tight satin skirt even higher, rough. “Fuck- not again, darling.”
Before you can even think of gurgling out any coherent syllables, his ragged palm comes striking down on the surface mere inches away from your face with a deafening SLAM!
Meaty thighs rippling with copious shivers from right behind you - Nanami was letting himself heave, he was letting his muscular body pin you down. Sliding the ladder-like ridges of his abs down your arched back.
“Shit. Shit shit shit- not again. M’not supposed ta-” Cutting himself off - gasping - and it’s a sheer miracle that he can even manage to wrench out those growling words at this point. Breath puncturing with a low ah! ah! ah! after every hit of his toned hips against your ass. “I don’t…don’t know why-”
Almost…feral.
You’re both letting your heads drop down at a drunken pace to catch the splat! of those first few ribbons of cum being slipped past your folds.
Every bludgeoning inch of Nanami’s coral pink crownhead plugs your leaky hole full. He’s fucking in those dewdrops of seed to maze across your gummy walls, leaving sweltering hot geysers pooling on your cervix.
So hot.
And in the corner of your eye, you’re catching him reel those powerful hips back until only the very tip of his swollen cock was softly pecking your entrance. “Can’t- can’t stop cumming- fuck!”
“Wh-what?” You’re not sure if you heard him right.
“Can’t stop, m’sorry–” He draws a slow five circles around your quivering hole with the very edge. A glossy white lip gloss that cakes over your pussy folds like icing. “Won’t stop cumming. Haaah- your cute cunt…s’drivin’ me mad.”
You feel Nanami’s round-ended thumb plug up the weeping orifice right in the middle of his cockhead, trying- failing to stop his trickling rivulets of creamy seed. Before letting out a pained huff and filling you once more to the very brim–
It was so much. Too much. And it just pained him to not be all sunken inside your hot, pretty pussy.
You whimper at the taut stretch, stumbling onto your unsteady elbows to peek at your husband. “I-is everything alright, Ken?”
Desperate.
You haven’t seen Nanami look this gone - eyes so hooded they were almost shuttered closed, mouth forever parted in awe, cheeks burning with a bright red blush - since the first time he ever fucked you.
So warm and dizzy.
Your fluttery walls squeeze involuntarily around his puffed-up veins, as if you’re trying to memorize every jagged pattern. Heart racing once leans in with a vulgarly handsome snarl-
“Still here.” He gruffs out a throaty murmur into your rapidly beating pulse, teeth nipping dangerously over the drumming staccato as if to warn look what I can do, my love. And the expression plastered all over his face is nothing if not crazed, “Still there.”
Fuck, that same mantra over n’ over again.
“Wh-what do you mean, Ken?” It takes everything in you to voice out, even the leaking cum that Nanami scoops up dutifully doesn’t compare to just how much wetter your cunt gets at the hoarse baritone of his voice. He was so effortlessly sexy.
“It’s- it’s still there, darling.” And you’ve never heard your stoic husband sound so…ruined. Like he was on the verge of crying - or damn near breaking you in half. Or both.
And how could Nanami Kento have become the boss if he didn’t multitask?
He was still pounding long, rummaging inches into you after every syllable spoken - hitting the bruised and battered target of your g-spot with a sickly sweet ba-dump! every single time. Not even slowing down to let himself catch his breath after his previous orgasm.
He wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Because even though Nanami’s molten eyes were stinging with tears from the utter sensitivity, even though he could feel his hefty balls flinch tenderly every time they thwacked against the front of your cunt - he still found something dark and deep inside of him begging for more more more.
Body moving before he could even control.
In only nanoseconds, Nanami interlaces a clawed grip around your throat to haul you up like some glamorized doll. Eyes widening, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and gasps.
“Th-this-” And Nanami Kento never stutters, he never lets his statuesque facade crack with the beginnings of something that almost looks shy. Your stomach twists at the way his cerise lower lip wobbles adorably, “-what is this, my love?”
“Hmm–? Oh.” And then it finally hits you. “A n-new perfume?”
Although it looks like it wasn’t just a perfume. Fuck, you should’ve looked at the packaging a little closer.
But Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a word. Does nothing but let his lungs drag in a generous heaval of your scent.
And it’s enough to send his needy cock crashing into the very bottom of your sloppy pussy. Your hands scramble for anything - and land on the golden name plate emblazoned with CEO NANAMI while he draws up a looong wet glide. Prying apart the papping mounds of your ass to rut into you impossibly deeper.
Nanami’s vision clouds and he’s not sure if it’s from the force of the countless orgasms or simply you. His gorgeous wife.
Wait- wife?
Before he knows it - before he can stop himself - he’s babbling away, “Marry me- marry me, my love.”
“But…” You’re reaching over to tangle your fingertips through his dishevelled strands of gold with a smile. Thumbing away that perspired furrow in his brow, “We’re already hah! married, Kento.”
Oh?
And Nanami Kento trusts you above him. Which is why he finds his eyes rovering down to steal a glance at your pretty ring finger and- oh. You were right.
“Mhm— tha’s me, Kento. Your husband.” He’s breathing out, one hand tracing over the staggeringly large rock homed prettily on your wedding ring.
And the other- the other was letting his fat fingerpads swipe down your buttery slit, topping itself with sweltering hot ounces of cum. Before promptly pushing past your wobbly lips, “Now suck ‘nless you want the whole office to hear about your ph-pheromone perfume.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - T-take it, dammit-
“You- you bitch.” Geto Suguru looked so pretty like this - amethyst eyes fighting to stay open in anger and need, curtaining inky hair splayed out like a halo underneath him. Each growling snarl of his only growing raspier by the minute, “Fucking knew this would h-happen, didn’t you?”
Did you just hear the oh-so-suave Geto Suguru stutter?
And it’s just about all you can do to keep yourself from snickering, hands planting precariously onto the delicious curve of his deltoids. The bulging flex of his toned muscles makes your mouth water, “Oh? I don’t know what you mean, Sugu—”
Geto’s rolling his eyes - but his hips were speaking a completely different language. Rolling up off of the sticky hold of the bedsheets to give your g-spot a good, lengthy skim of his ruby-red tip.
He’s tugging one shackled wrist, “S’that why ya have me in this, gorgeous?”
Ah, and how could you forget your favorite part about tonight?
Those fuzzy pink handcuffs that you’d goaded your dear boyfriend into wearing, all smug smiles and chuckles until you’d leaned down to give him an innocent peck. And then let him smell-
“Sh-shit. Look what you’ve done t’me.” He’s hissing into your loosened mouth, snatching your pouted lips into such a bruising, bruising kiss. Sharpened canines digging into your bottom lip, he practically gulps in the breaths of your special perfume. “You and th-this heavenly pussy and that- godforsaken pheromone perfume.”
You were making a fool out of him - all with a “special perfume” that he’d bought for you at your pleas. Idiot, he didn’t even read the box before gifting it to you.
Geto throws his head back with a drawling grunt when the only reply he gets is your pretty smile. “Fuck- fuck!”
Voice pitching up in volume higher and higher- and he was sure he looked crazed right about now. Hips rutting cleanly off of the mattress to spearhead you with so many copious inches. More.
It was already hard enough keeping himself smooth n’ composed every time he usually sunk past your velvety walls - you drove him wild without even trying. But now?
Now this stupid “perfume” of yours was here to do the very same thing, only tenfold because it was his beautiful girl wearing it.
Oh.
Geto thanks he can feel himself going wild.
The extra heavy-duty handcuffs sing out a metallic creak–! once he tugs particularly harshly, trembling fingertips aching to feel every inch of your glissading body. You were riding him at such a maddening tempo. Your hips hitting the very back of his generously curved balls, before gyrating your puffy clit down in a slooow grind up his toned abdomen — but he wanted more.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when Geto was like this.
“When- when I break out of these oh!” With every empty threat puffed out into the heady air, Geto finds his achingly hard cock weeping even more thick rivulets of pre. Lungs filling up with hypnotic volumes and volumes of that scent. He can feel himself fucking tearing up, “F-fuck you.”
He was so sexy like this.
Trying oh-so-desperately to pretend that those collisions into your gooey depths didn’t have his toes curling, heavy lids falling shut to hide away just how fast Geto’s eyes were sliding to the very back of his head.
You’re arching a brow, “Oh? What was that?”
Lips sleazing backwards into a pussydrunken grin, you had the inkling that Geto didn’t even realize what he was babbling away at this point. He couldn’t even think. “I-I said fuck-”
Mouth still moving. Soundless.
And all it takes is a mere touch of your sensory fingertips caressing his sweat-lathered temple to render Geto speechless.
“W-wait—” He breathes out, and he sounds hysterical right now. Venomous tone lilting countless octaves higher and wobbling as if he was about to break. His chest caves in with a low please–! once you’re streaking your digits through his silky hair, shivering as if being shocked with a thousand voltages. Pulling. “Not fair. Not fair not- fuck tha’s not fair t’me, gorgeous.”
You already knew that the pheromone perfume had some…aphrodisiacal effects. But it seemed that Geto was extra sensitive to it. Cute.
“Yes, and?” Just for good measure - oh, you were thoroughly enjoying this - you’re trekking your stray fingertips to latch onto the gleaming curve of his throat. Bringing your scented neck even closer-
“Oh.” Geto’s snarky mouth now floods with a silvery plash of scorching hot saliva, fucked out of him after every resounding slam! of your hips down on his. You watch as his weightily lidded eyes glaze over with a film of something murky.
Continuing to wrench needily at his restraints. Desperately. It was like a second nature for Geto to touch you and right now he was ruined. You can’t help but ogle the rounded flex of his biceps-
“Gonna- fuck.” He whimpers - whimpers - out, nose crinkling. It made you much too drenched when he leans in mindlessly to rub the buttony tip of it against yours in a lazy kiss. Maw slacking every time you pumped his achily swollen cock across your most tender spots, the orifice of your hole massaging his reactive shaft so greedily. “M’close…”
Whispering, right now, as if it was the most dear confession.
Because Geto Suguru never came before he’d made you reach your orgasm at least five times over.
But right now he was teetering right over the very high edge of it, so close. His thick, sculpted thighs push up from behind your motioning body to urge your bounces vulgarly faster, skin-to-skin.
“C-close.” And it sounded almost pained if you didn’t feel the way it was accompanied by a hastily slipped spasm of Geto’s ballooned-up crownhead against your cervix. Too close. His beautiful head lolls backwards against the tear-streaked pillows, “M’gonna- m’gonna-”
Before snapping up furiously again when your merciless pace stops.
And all you can get out is a not-so-innocent, “Whoops.”
All you can get out - because it takes Geto exactly two split-seconds to snap! those useless pink handcuffs off of him and flip the two of you over to tower over you in all his glory. Speckles of frustrated sweat slithering between his bulging pecs and down onto your heaving body.
He’d let you have your fun, already.
Geto moves slow. Calculated.
Leisurely meandering his face all over your thrumming throat, your tits, everywhere and anywhere that godforsaken pheromone perfume was calling to him. Taking in looong languid breaths of it - and each time he did, he’s fucking up into you like he didn’t even realize.
Pounding you into the drenched silken sheets with all girthy inches of his circumference, branding it into your slippery womb like he didn’t want you to forget.
You’re hit with the sudden remembrance that there was a reason you had to tie Geto up.
And that is when you catch his gaze - wide, unfocused. Feral.
Oh, you were fucked.
So very fucked.
“So.” Geto shatters your anticipatory realization with a throaty few syllables, hoarse like he wasn’t even ready for himself to speak at that point. Without a single warning, he spits - right in your mouth once. Then twice onto two slender fingers, before giving your cunt a stinging spank. “Ya gonna beg for mercy now or later, gorgeous?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.
God, if this was any other time then maybe Choso would’ve felt embarrassed about the way he was letting his clammy palms cling onto your waist like he never wanted you to let go.
Because he didn’t. Would never.
Huffing and puffing out clouded puffs of air into the sticky valley of your chest, he’s just so drunk on you. Can feel himself veering lazily into the pillow, drenching it with gumdrops of thick saliva. It takes everything in him to lift his head and puff in smoky breaths of your pheromones.
And it makes him burn. So hot rutting up into you, skin-on-skin.
Probing veins scouring your every nook and cranny, ruthless shaft the complete opposite of just how delicately he was boring down at you. Choso was nudging his ballooned-up cock past your puffy hole like he was making you melt around him.
Making you break - just as much as he was right now.
And the only thing hotter is the way the slithering muscle of Choso’s pierced tongue lolls outwards to skim the buttery splotches of cum scattered across your tits from before. Shiny Prince Albert’s cooling you hardened nipples.
Eyes reeling to the very hidden backs of his hooded lids, he’s moaning at the salted caramel taste of himself. “S-so hot. So soft inside, m’ l-losing my mind.”
You’re just soaked skin-deep with him.
And you’re blaming it all on that strange perfume - a pheromone perfume - that that assistant had dabbed on you at the store. You’d forgotten just how…sensitive curses can be to smells.
How feral.
Finding your heart racing at the way he was narrating off every single thing, every single twitch inside you that slid across your gluey magical spots. “S’that so, Cho?”
Usually, Choso would nod away deliriously to your every word. Usually, he would prattle on sweet, sweet simperings of his very own.
But right now, you watch in slight awe as the pale skin of his pretty cheekbones scorch over with a brightly blossoming blush. The heat of it so feverishly hot that you can almost feel it, and Choso bucks his hips wildly into you with a low keen at the back of his throat.
“D-don’t call me that.” He’s straining out through a shiver. Lower lip fussed until it was a pouted cherry pink. You swear the moment Choso leans closer you see his long mahogany lashes glisten with tears. His big, beefy arms finding their way around your body, “S’gonna…gonna make me cum. Gonna- fuck!”
As if to prove his point, the perked hill of his fattened cockhead splits with glossy white swabs of pre. Buttering up your deepest insides and promising more.
You’re tugging him in ever-closer, the look in your glassy eyes so loving that he feels his length pump greedy ounces more and swell. Growing girthier - pushing your glutinous walls further n’ further apart just from the way you’re staring at him.
How he loved you.
You hum, “But I want you to, Cho. No need to be shy.”
Something in him breaks. And just the thought of it is enough to make the special grade in front of you drool.
Slick rivers of spittle streaming from between his jaw, unhinging when he inches in to gift your surprised tongue with a weighty splat! of webbed spit. He breathes out past the breathless bubble, “No no no no- D-don’t say things like that, baby– I’m not…myself, right now.”
Tasting him. All of him.
The sugary sweet coating lathers your tastebuds and makes you whine, your legs stumbling around Choso’s toned hips. You can feel every tense of his toned core, count all eight of his washboard abs, “S-s’this the ngh! pheromone perfume, baby–? Maybe I should wear it more hck! often-”
“No.”
No?
And Choso can bash himself for interrupting his lovely lady later - but right now, he was frenzied.
Gulping voluminous lungfuls of that scent - of you.
Deftly practiced fingers entrap your plummy clit and roll over not circles, not hearts- no, the letters of his name over n’ over. Branding the perked hood of your nub until you could feel your eyes burst with stars, Choso was ravenous.
“S’because- because it’s you.” He gasps out thickly, smooth baritone unsteady under the weight of all those tears painting smudged eyeliner down his pretty cheeks. “Your scent, n-not that ngh- perfume.” You’re flinching at the looong drag of his scratchy tastebuds dragging over your scented throat. Or, well, previously scented throat. He was addicted to you. “You have me- have me in heat, lil’ human, n’ it’s making me…”
Wild.
If Choso was any lesser man then he would’ve dragged you halfway down the bedcoils and thrown your legs haphazardly over his shoulders. Folding you in half to pound you into the mattress until you were dumb.
But, luckily for your dripping cunt, Choso was that lesser man right now.
He doesn’t think he feels alive - can’t even register his wheezing breaths once he’s manhandling you into the densest possible mating press.
Strong biceps rippling, chest heaving-
His fuzzy brain only sparks with recognition when Choso’s heavy breeder balls clench once, twice, thrice at the way your drooling pussy was laminating his rounded curve with a slimy coating of slick. That’s when he can feel himself actually startle, actually see.
And fuck, was it a sight enough to make him cum if he wasn’t so entranced with that prettily awestruck look on your face.
“Can’t even feel m-my legs, baby-” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, stray strands of coffee brown plastering all across his sweat-slicked forehead. And something in Choso’s voice was…dark. Dangerous. You were in trouble. “-can’t th-think of anything but ngh- breeding this pretty pussy right now.”
Oh.
Oh.
That’s what he meant by a heat.
“Mhm– my clever girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? Rewarding your cutely spellbound mind with a hefty thud! thud! thud! right onto what feels like your lungs. He had all the time in the world to fuck you stupid, after all. “My mate.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sweetener
“H-heh- say that again, silly human.”
“A pheromone perfume.” You’re squirming impatiently, words sticking to the back of your throat in saccharine gasps. And even the tiniest of gyrations leave Sukuna’s ruby-topped heads kissin’ sultry circles around your weeping hole.
Leave you wanting more.
Snickering, “A fucking- pheromone- what?”
The monstrous king of curses displays you with a rugged sneer that makes your folds even more impossibly watery. Just for those stupid words stumbling from your mouth, you’re gifted with one - two - three solid spanks, elongated black nails curling into the stinging mounds of your ass.
It’s all you can do to grapple on helplessly to the mountain of his toned shoulders, fingers clawing red train tracks that look more like kitten scratches on him. “K-Kuna–!”
“Don’t K-Kuna me, brat.” Raw need coats the scorching innards of your mouth when he only rolls his crimson eyes, burning hot. And out of all four of Sukuna’s beefy arms, it only takes one to latch onto the curve of your hips and hover you unstably over his doubly swollen cocks. Tutting, “What? You think some h-human perfume will control Ryomen Sukuna. I must’ve fucked ya dumb already.”
So mean.
But Sukuna always did have a soft spot for you.
And all is a single criss-cross of your wobbly arms, kiss-bitten lips puckering up into the beginnings of his only weakness – your pout.
“Fine. Fine, spoiled girl.” It works.
Yet, you’re shivering at the thwack! thwack! thwack! of his doughy-tipped fingers swatting your plump clit. Pecs puffing out with pride and smugness when your eyes glaze over at them and you stare.
It happens all at once. In an instant.
As soon as both of Sukuna’s round, throbbing cockheads crown the edges of your drooling pussy - he leans sultry inches closer and finally, finally smells it. That.
That scented perfume you’d found in your king’s centuries-old treasury, untouched and just ripe for your picking. For Sukuna to get hit with a thorough blast of it off of your heated skin, simply taking one whiff to addle his honed senses.
Undoing years upon years of painstaking training to make your great king of curses halt, jagged canines baring you with a predatory snarl. “Th-think this can affect oh-”
Who was he against you?
Your entire body vibrates when Sukuna’s chest rumbles with something carnal. Bursting from the very depths of his chest and making you shiver.
The thunderous noise has barely even stopped ringing in your ears before he’s latching on two massive hands to your waist and pulling you in. No care, no hesitation - nothing but drooling with the anticipation of being buried inside your slick-flooding pussy.
He needed it.
And he can feel his head fall headily backwards at the shuddering thud! of Sukuna’s two proud tips skimming the ends of your spongy cervix. Hooked fangs snatching onto the jut of his bottom lip at the bouncy recoil-
Fuck, he didn’t want to separate from your gummy walls for even a split-second. Even if it was to let your hips bounce in lecherous swivels up n’ down up n’ down up n’ down.
“Sh-shit, you’re in so ngh- deep.”
It’s a slow tempo, but you never got used to the stretch that was Sukuna’s staggering sizes.
Both aching cocks were so unfairly long and hard that he didn’t even have to try to smear his puffy veins over your awaiting g-spot. You swear both lengths reached well over a foot, and just having him bottom out had you scrambling to caress the inflated tummy bulge he was fucking into you.
Your jaw hangs open, a syrupy waterfall of saliva dribbling all over your chin. You’re not sure if Sukuna even registers the way he’s tenderly swiping away the overspilling excess with a fat thumb.
“Kuna?” You have to stop yourself from almost flinching away, feeling oh-so-shy at the burning heart-eyes in his gaze. The way a fourth arm was patting the sinful cylindrical outline leading up from your puffy pussy. Reaching an arm to stroke his sweat-matted pink locks, “A-are you okay?”
The moment your fingers skim any part - any minute millimeter - of Sukuna’s body, he’s whimpering. Whimpering.
And if that was the worst of it, then maybe he could have gathered up some semblance of his shattered dignity.
But Sukuna isn’t simply making pretty noises - he’s cumming.
One touch. And a thousand torrents of cum sugarcoating your claggy walls.
So much of it. Too much of it - it sweeps through your gluey walls and forms a little puddle ‘round his bulky bases. Creamily filthy mixtures of seed and slick ringing Sukuna’s base, they hit your perked clit with a wet pap! each time you’re milking him through his peaks.
“D-did you just-”
“Shut up.” He bites back, leaving you no time for the realization to sink in - before curling a vice-like hand around your throat and making you slam down your hips. “Shut up.”
Sudden, striking hits that bruise the curve of your ass just as much as it bruised your battered insides. You were so hot. So soft that it made him dizzy. Melty depths being contracted around thick lengths, the pace at which your greedy pussy was swallowing him up almost made the king want to whine-
“O-oh my god.”
It did make him whine.
With a creaking squeak! of cushion, Sukuna’s sculpted hips lurch off of the decadent royal mattress in repeated ruts. Animalistic.
“Shut up- I s-said ngh- s’not my fault.” He spits out, angry dewdrops of steamy pre being streaked out in twin ribbons into the back of your cunt. “Not my fault you just feel so- so ohhh- f-fuck you, brat. I-if the rest of ‘em found out…”
But Sukuna already knew he was weak for you. He knew.
Just not to this extent.
Not till just a simple cloud of your scent made his vision swim, a fresh wave of drool slipping n’ sliding from between the traitorous slit of his mouth. Both of them.
“M-mhm–” You find yourself smiling - maybe from his reaction, maybe from the way you were being fucked so thoroughly right. The knobbled tops of your knees skid easily across Sukuna’s drenched lap when you straddle him even even tighter, “S’that why-”
He wanted you to shut up. He needed you to shut up or else he was going to fucking cum again.
Which is why his second cursed mouth opens wiiiide to puff your cunt with steamily clouded pants. Before rolling out his tongue and dragging up the entirety of your bulging pussy. All overfilled with him.
“A-another word–” Sukuna’s seething through clenched teeth, but it’s no use. None. Not when the way you lean in to listen closer is enough to make the king blush, “-a-and I make you walk a- ngh! around the entire day with my cum all safe n’ sound inside..”
♡ INO TAKUMA - “U-use me?”
“Wh-what?”
And for the first time in hours, Ino manages to meet his hazy chestnut eyes with yours. Shivering. Half-lidded. “Use me.”
Fuck.
You thought your beloved boyfriend would regain his senses by the second round- no, perhaps the third time’s the charm.
Okay, maybe the fourth? The fifth?
But even after six looong rounds, your splintered bedframe was still trilling with shrill creaks; sagging uselessly on one end as strong, tannish arms stick ever-closer to your body like glue. Folding you into the meanest n’ tightest full nelson possible.
Still scorching. Still needy after getting hit with just a waft of that pheromone your friends bought you as a joke. A joke.
But this was anything but.
Ino can’t even bring himself to wipe away the wads upon wads of slippery drool leaking from his maw after every mushy thud of his globular cockhead against the very back of your goopy cervix. He can’t even think.
“Puh-please.” He’s hiccuping, soft tipped fingers clawing near the sweaty crown of your head to push you further down. Lapping a lazy stripe up your scented neck, “Just one more– ngh! Need you t-to use me to make yerself cum once more, sweetness.”
“M-more?”
And oh, your voice was warbling with such cute disbelief that it makes Ino groan. “Yes. Yes.”
Planting a few more vicious plunges of his strawberry pink tip into the target of your favorite sweet spots - Ino’s favorites, too. Especially once your puffy pussylips part with numerous geysers of slick, flooding translucent rings at his base.
All without even looking up from your neck.
He can’t.
Ino’s entire body wracks with tremors when he even tries to pull away a mere inch. Two. All that he can manage before nuzzling back in with heavy repeated pants.
You’re only getting wetter - and that maddening little perfume one you? Only stronger.
He swears - fuck, maybe he’s going crazy - that he can smell just how close you are, how your tummy’s tightening into wiry knots.
“But- but are you sure, baby–?” Your fingers scratch at the tawny ends of his damp locks, a primal itch so heavenly that he almost purrs. “M’wondering if you even can-”
“I can-” He’s cutting you off, free fingers straying down to the slightly-softening base of Ino’s furious cock and squeezing. Rutting up into you with wild abandon, “I can. I can- promise, sweetness, I promise.”
“Taku–”
And throughout Ino’s hazy mind, your words ring out like a death sentence. Like a punishment. Causing him to snap open his eyes with a sharp intaking gasp, round-topped curves of his knees manhandling your thighs further n’ further open.
You whine at the burning smear, head throwing backwards in a way that makes his slow rovering over your neck break away-
And if Ino was upset before, then he’s simply devastated now.
Sounding like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “No. No no no no no- don’t run, pretty.” Like catnip. Like a moth drawn to your frame, he’s wrapping his jittery forearms around you until you could count every twitch of his sculptured forearms. Crushing you in close. “Look at yourself- smell yourself. Fuck, I need it. M’not asking, m’b-begging you to use me like a…toy.”
He almost wishes he could bring himself to lurch away from that haven of pheromones dabbed across your skin.
Almost wishes he could do anything else but swivel a fat thumb across your weepy folds, bringing it allll the way up to his eager nose to steal a long sniff.
Filthy.
But it’s exactly what makes Ino’s swollen cock perk up with an animalistic flinch inside of you, probing into the target of your g-spot dead on.
“Shit- shit— y-you just got so much bigger.” Your vision flashes blissful white when his length stiffens into even longer n’ sold inches, swabbing at your precious cunt with pressurized pounds. And whatever ounces of blood left in his melty mind? Oh, they’re sprinting all the way down Ino’s boiling veins to end up bloating his throbbing cock.
Getting hard just by the smell of you.
“O-oh.” You’re being bounced on top of his toned pecs when they dip with a sudden hitched breath. “Yes. Yes yes yes, jus’ like that. Love everythin’ about this ngh- pussy, she’s started smelling sweeter e-even here, too. Fuck, you’re a goddess, pretty.”
Sounding as if he was in such heavenly agony - husky voice cracking a few octaves higher. His hold so vice-like on you that you can already feel yourself bruising.
Sloppier. Needier.
Shit- Ino needed to see that dumbstruck look surely being fucked onto your face. He’s finding himself moving - body before mind - to face that reflective, floor-length mirror propped up at the end of your bed.
He always knew that thing would come in handy.
You’re croaking out a moan at the wet texture of Ino’s mouth watering, sprinkling your heated skin with spatters of spit.
But who could blame him?
It was such a sultry sight - to watch your bloated lips be pried apart by his reddened circumference, spraying out saturated glazes of your sweet, sweet juices each and every time.
“See? See?” Ino’s murked puffs tinge with something higher-pitched and wild. Pearly white edges of his teeth sink into your delicate lobe, and make your skin break out in goosebumps. “How fucked you have me. Think m’gonna hngh- die if I don’t fuh-fuck this pretty pussy. If I don’t make you cum-”
Shit, he doesn’t even want to imagine the thought.
Your kiss-bitten mouth slackens into a loose oh! “Wanna- I wanna cum, Taku—” Twisting your head ‘round to face him with a slight pout that makes his entire body jolt.
“Y-yeah?” So, so pretty with a dopey smile being spread all across his face, you’re leaning in to kiss the cratering dimple at the edge of his plump lips. “C’mon. Fuck back into me- ngh- use me ta make yerself cum.”
You’re heading his every word, thighs aching at the fatigued pain of bouncing your hips in a resounding pap! pap! pap! Grinding your treacly slit all the way back into his fattened balls, “L-like this?”
“Atta girl. Harder, now.” His brows furrow. “Harder.”
More more more.
Words petering out halfway into a snarl at this point, you glimpse at the glint of Ino’s sharp canines peeking through the mirror. “Fuck me. Fuck me, pretty.”
“Taku.”
And you’re not sure who wanted you to cum more - you, or your feverish boyfriend.
But your spellbound self had some semblance of an answer when the sound of his name on your honeyed tongue makes Ino flinch as if hit with a zillion volts of electricity.makes him dart down a hand to grace your neglected clit with an oh-so-rude pinch.
Ino’s fuzzy brain wasn’t even working enough to remember those patterns you loved so much. To remember just how to make his body move.
All he knew was that he needed this.
Needed the way you’re arching your spine into the perfect curvature against his glissading front, head thrown back with a mewl of Taku—! once you finally tip over the edge.
He finds his mouth falling gape, “Y-you’re so fucking hot.” Eyes locked on the trembly image of you in the mirror, he fucks you through every white-hot peak of your high. Babbling away,”Did your dear Taku m-make you cum, sweetness? Does it feel good?
Oh, the audacity of him to tip a few thick digits underneath your chin and force you to nod.
Giggling, “Thought so-” And then it happens. Then, he leans in for a sweet, sweet kiss as he usually does - only to be wafted with a murky cloud of pheromone perfume. Again. You watch as Ino blushes a soft pink, “Hey, p-pretty…so…”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Everyday is everyday.
Everyday means everyday - and it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even after so many countless rounds and rounds.
Never, for a Gojo Satoru that has to grit his pearly white teeth viciously to stop himself from using just an ounce too much of his strength on your pliable body and breaking you.
Snarling canines peeking out just when he nestles your legs over two broad shoulders and bends down, down, down in half.
“Hngh- please—” Your chin hits the heaving edges of your chest at the burn of the sheer stretch. Gojo’s muscular thighs sticking against your own and pressing into the inflated little pouch he’d made at your tummy. Filled to the brim with his sappy cum-
“Th-that’s all your fault, y’know–” He’s hissing, handsome jaw clenching desperately to stop those tremoring keens from invading his words. He fails. And Gojo can already tell by the smug smile curling your lips, “-all b-because of you and that fuck! damn perfume.”
Nevermind that he was the one that bought it for you in the first place - some niche, overpriced brand dropped straight into your lap.
Nevermind the fact that he had come up with the idea.
Oh, you should’ve known that this is what wearing pheromone perfume around the strongest would get you.
Because Gojo Satoru was breaking - shattering.
Every pressurized thrust of his leaking out a new wave of overstimulated pre frosting up your slicked entrance. Accompanied hand-in-lecherous-hand with shockwaves of cursed energy that make your unbolted furniture drag magnetized centimeters all the way towards the creaking bed.
“Sh-shit your p-powers—” you’re whining, eyes widening at the hazy sight of blue lightning flickering across Gojo’s sweat-lathered body.
“My p-p-powers, huh, sweetheart?” He’s leaning in to whisper, eyes wide. Wild. Breath hitching so many octaves higher that it sends your spine arching with a goosebumped chill. All into his awaiting touch, “And whose- fault- is that—?”
You’re not sure if you’re a genius - or just plain idiotic. Because even feeling the withheld power being those very same soft palms holding your boneless thighs up, you find it in yourself to snark. “Yours.”
And Gojo almost stops.
If that didn’t torture him just as much as that would torture you, that is. Instead, he’s slowing down to sleazy drags n’ grinds pressing gluey peck after peck on your cervix.
Such sweet, sweet leisure - yet, his words were tense. He breathes out a shallow cloud of air, “Whose?”
Gojo’s tone was dangerous. And his battering rams even more so.
“Y-y- ngh!” Saved by a particularly hard slam of all his copious inches digging into your glutinous g-spot, it leaves a bulky circular branding that stings deliciously with every targeted buck.
You can feel yourself slowly being fucked into stupidity with every swash of thickly viscous cum swirling around your insides. And you already know by the buzzing pressure around his cerulean eyes that he was taking unfair advantage of his Six Eyes to make sure his veiny cock reaches each and every single spot inside your pretty pussy.
Locking your dangling ankles with one hand behind his head - the noticeable flex of Gojo’s pale biceps makes you moan.
Trapped.
Oh- how pretty you were like this, he muses, eyeing the wobbly quiver of your needy lips. Both of them. And you were so loud, too - your saturated cunt so desperate to chat up at him with ringing squelches that carry over your adorable noises.
Maybe he should let you hit him with a waft of that special pheromone perfume more often.
His round nostrils flare, hyper-sensitive senses greedily gulping out each ounce and waft you’re letting off. Every repeated pap! of Gojo’s hipbones follows one of his choked-out syllables, “I said- Whose?”
Someone sobs - and only a few sloppy seconds do you realize that it’s you. Words coming out helplessly garbled, “M-mine.”
At that very moment, a dimly-lit lamp across your heady bedroom shatters.
Sharp shards of glasses bounce off the two of your fervently glissading bodies, limitless.
But if that was taxing for the strongest - then he doesn’t show it. Not even a sign. Gojo only angles his hip a few degrees to the right to bounce into your spongy cervix even harsher. In rough, jagged strokes as if it was nothing.
In fact, by the filmy glaze overtaking his hooded eyes, you think that it might just be nothing. You think that he might not even have realized what was happening.
Pressing a drunken trailway of kisses down the helpless curve of your calf, he grins. Toothy. Animalistic. “Atta girl.”
Pulpy soft tips of Gojo’s fingers slide sneakily down to your messy pussy, drivelling up slow slides up and down your teary entrance. Just until you were getting comfortable - just until you were letting your guard down. Silly girl.
Before slipping past your tight ring of resistance and prying you open doubly. And oh, you should’ve expected that when Gojo gets the job done - he’s going above and beyond to make sure you remember it.
That you’re his.
Pummeling right into the throbbing bullseye of your g-spot, the edges of his long digits hit that spot so hard that you find yourself bawling. Eyes snapping open- before promptly closing as you cum.
Your high is a shock - a white-hot mess of such euphoria.
Tipping right over the edge - and it might’ve been a surprise to you, but Gojo saw it coming a mile away with those special eyes of his. Chuckling to himself at the velvety smooch of your sappy walls milking every inch of him.
“There we go- there we g-go, my girl.” He’s pumping you so thoroughly full that you feel your vision blur, the vibrating buzz of Gojo’s cursed energy being fed into you with each strike. “Cum- cum f’me. H-heh, all because- because of me-”
Your tits bump up into his plush pecs, sensitive nubs of your nipples brushing against his rosy pink ones. You’re reaching out a trembling hand to cup Gojo’s pretty face - one he leans into and kisses. “T-Toru—!”
Just about all you can manage out.
And your orgasm might not have been a surprise to him, but Gojo’s own absolutely was.
It happens in a split second - just after that nickname spills from the honeyed tip of your tongue.
Gojo’s snowy lashes flutter upwards, sweat-slicked brows raising all the way to the edges of his silky fringe. Bubblegum lips parting into an oh! only falling further and further slack with every creamy ribbon shot upwards into you.
It floods, it pours. And you can feel your flooded pussylips overspilling before he’s even halfway through his orgasm.
Oozing out glutinous wads of cum with every pump - Gojo had no rhythm now, he had no rhyme. Nothing but the carnal need to push every ounce of his fatly beading seed deeper n’ deeper into your pretty pussy, heated pink crownhead swirling out what feels like hearts at the very door to your womb.
You’re so full you could explode-
A hand rovers over that inflationary bulge - bigger now. “Oh, sweetheart…”
Was that really your loving boyfriend? He sounded so ruined right about now, hoarse. You couldn’t even blink your eyes up to make out the expression on his face because the lights had exploded. Possibly in every ward of Tokyo.
You feel it before you see it.
The familiar, shrill puff! of that pheromone perfume being sprayed on you- what?
With a sharp gasp, you’re looking back n’ forth between the shiny sheen of liquid spritzed once more over your skin and Gojo’s ever-loving smile.
“Oh, whoops.” Soft snickers punctured with a loooong sniff of the air - of you. And Gojo’s eyes take on a predatory glint that makes your entire body wrack with shivers. “Better hope you’re on ngh- b-birth control, girl.”
“...”
A/N. Fun fact, the entirety of Sri Lanka had a six hour power cut while I was writing this because some monkey jumped onto a power line </33
Plagiarism not authorized.
need to make a toji ver
original pic is down here
HALA
cw: matting press, unprotected sex, breeding kink. reblogs will be appreciated thank u
having a husband like nanami made you confirm that the rumor of english teacher’s getting pregnant every single month is true.
since you got the job, kento let you take the job — while at the same time making an extra income — however, realizing how tiring was planning every single class and the fact it was only because you got bored of only being a housewife, his plan of getting you pregnant every time he could just for you to take a rest from your students started.
“let me make you a pretty momma again.” he would whisper in your ear. his hot breath made you flustered. while his cock makes his way through your sloppy sex and as he’s rimming the tip of his shaft in the most sensitive part of your cunt, you couldn’t help but mewl at the sentence.
“ken. ngh, ngh.”
he would make this over and over again, just couldn’t help but looking at your flustered face while he was pinning you until all of your pussy dripped all of his cum, which he would always got it back to make sure you would get well-pregnant and take a maternity leave.
“damn, english teacher got knocked up again and we won’t have the subject for 2 months.”
plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾
a/n: me👰♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna
sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.
it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.
in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.
so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.
uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.
the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.
he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.
considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.
so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.
so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.
he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.
perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.
that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.
and no one knows about that door except—
“y/n.”
you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.
you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”
keyword: try.
he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”
he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”
your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.
you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.
sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”
he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.
you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.
and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?
he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”
you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, he also wants to know what’s wrong.
if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.
his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.
“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.
“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.
he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—
—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”
he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.
so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”
after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”
you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”
“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”
a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”
you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.
you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”
a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from your husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.
sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”
“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”
he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.
you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”
you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”
he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”
you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”
“good,” he smirks.
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