⋆˚࿔ D.kaminari Smau ˚ ༘ Shared Spaces

yeah, this is my pet knight, she's a rescue. i gave her a brief act of mercy and she followed me home and sat outside my door to guard me from intruders. she swore her undying allegiance to me in exchange for a gift of grace and now she sleeps at the foot of my bed and weeps when im late coming home. and yeah, she only eats wet food because she's a snob, also.

cringedoriya and nerdkugo

Now for the real fun! While I have the main beats of the fight planned, Bakugou's other quirks aren't set in stone, so I'm welcoming suggestions.

First - Previous - Next

🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇

Stickers & sticker club

009. CARNATIONS

In the Todoroki household, Touya's childhood bedroom had been marked as forbidden territory while Shoto was growing up. The door to his older brother's room remained closed all the time.

Almost all the time.

No one dared to touch anything inside. It was like his room had been frozen in time. His old computer remained unplugged and was never turned back on. His colored pencils remained unsharpened and his little school backpack remained untouched since the last time Touya had tossed it into the corner

Shoto had been put in charge of preparing the room for you and Touya's arrival. Fuyumi had asked him to since she was busy cleaning the guest room for you with Natsuo.

Touya would be back home in this room. That was all Shoto could think about as he stood outside the bedroom, a duster and small box of cleaning wipes in his hands

Shoto remembers the times he'd hear the quiet creaks of footsteps against the floorboard late at night, right before hearing Touya's door be slowly pushed open.

Shoto had trouble sleeping when he was younger. He was always able to hear the sound of someone opening Touya's bedroom door late at night. He'd lay in bed, his heart practically beating out of his chest at the thought of his Touya-nii returning home.

He'd get out bed, putting on his slippers and walking towards the door as quietly as he possibly could

There would be this flittering hope inside of the young boy's chest. A small voice in the back of his mind calling out Touya's name. He could already picture his brother's face as he slept, soft cheeks puffed up as he breathed in and out. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was a sight Shoto desperately wanted to see

Shoto remembers the quiet sound of shuffling inside the room. Movement. Someone was inside.

He didn't know what to do when met with the sight of Natsuo laying in Touya's bed as he cried quietly, his sobs muffled by his brother's pillow. His palms would clutch the blankets and pillows with desperation, a sheen of sweat coating the younger boy's skin as his eyes were screwed shut in pain. Natsuo would be repeating the words "come back nii-san." over and over again.

Touya's last surgery before the holidays had taken place yesterday.

His doctors had been working hard as ever, pushing themselves to the brink of exhaustion as they worked to restore Touya's strength and skin. While his complexion would never be 'normal' again, it had gotten better. It was similar to how he looked when he had first waken up from his coma. While some of the pale, unburnt skin peaked through—there was still the slight discolorizution of burns all over his body.

He's peeling back the bandages on his face, unraveling the soft cloth as it falls into the sink in front of him. He no longer saw Dabi when he looked into the mirror, he saw Touya. He flexes his hands, curling them into the fist and admiring the way the once burnt flesh was restored to something much more healthier. Albeit still scarred—but better.

He stares at his reflection a while longer, tugging the white locks of hair out of his face as he traced over his features, trying to see the man underneath all the scars.

His footsteps are slow and drowsy as he walks back into his room. He squints in the dark as he stares at the red letters of the clock on his bedside table, reading 2:06 AM.

Touya cannot sleep. His small travel bag is packed, sitting on the small couch in his room and waiting to be swung over his shoulder. Knowing he'd be visiting his home in just a little over a week felt like some sort of a fever dream.

His regret and guilt for all of what he had done was embedded into his heart like permanent stitches. It would take so long for those stitches to come undone and for his heart to completely heal. He hadn't apologized to his siblings or mother yet, he hadn't even seen them after the war. Just knowing he hurt them all was a heavy burden on his heart.

Fuyumi and Natsuo were his siblings. They were the ones he had grown up with, they were his family. Shoto on the other hand, felt like some sort of out worldly being to Touya. He blamed his father for how he viewed Shoto. The youngest Todoroki had always felt like some sort of an outsider to Touya, he never really did accept him when he was younger.

Touya saw how your eyes would soften whenever you spoke of his youngest brother. There would be this faraway look in your eyes as you told Touya about Shoto's letters. You'd explain to him how Shoto had a hard time communicating his feelings verbally, so he often wrote down what his heart had to say when his mouth couldn't.

Touya doesn't know when he grabbed the pen or the paper. All he knows is that he did, and suddenly the letters on the page in front of him were forming words.

His handwriting had improved, thanks to you. His spelling too. He could make out the words he was writing when he read back what he had written. His hand moved slowly, languid strokes appearing on the page from his pencil. Touya imagines Shoto isn't very good at reading between the lines from what you've told him about his brother—so he makes his words as short and straight to the point as he can.

Dear Shoto,

I am sorry. I hope we can start over again. I am not good at talking about how I feel either. I like the idea of letters.

Touya.

There were only a few words that Touya had written down, but he read them over and over again until his eyes threatened to close on him. He dragged himself over to the hospital bed, his exhaustion finally hitting him as he fell into a deep slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

Clutching Touya's winter clothes to your chest, you slowly click his door open and enter. He should've been awake by now—but the sound of his heavy breathing makes you pause in the doorway

You can't help but smile at the sight of him. He's wearing a loose, short sleeve shirt as he laid on his stomach, cheek smushed against his pillow as his hair tickled his brow bone. His back rose and fell slowly.

You set down his things onto the small pull out couch before quietly moving to open the blinds to allow some light to shine into the room.

He stirs the moment the sun's rays fall on him, rolling onto his side with a small groan before going slack again.

Touya's not usually this tired. You imagine he must have had trouble sleeping last night—and the thought makes you frown a little bit.

His sleeping pattern had definitely gotten better, but there were still some nights he'd wake up in a cold sweat to an empty room. Those were moments he needed you most—but, unfortunately for him, you couldn't be with Touya all the time.

It was only a matter of days until the two of you would be sleeping under the same roof in his old home. Your hands are gentle as you splay them over the expanse of Touya's back, and you nudge him awake softly while calling out his name

He wakes up slowly, lashes fluttering as he raises his cheek from his pillow. His eyes widen a bit when he catches sight of you standing over him, and he quickly pushes himself off of his elbows to sit up

"Y/n," He rasps quietly, and you quickly move to unscrew the cap of the bottle of water you had brought, offering it to him. Touya grabs it slowly, taking large, grateful gulps of the chilled drink. You quickly avert your gaze to look down at the floor after seeing the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down the water.

"Good morning, Touya. How did you sleep?" You ask, carefully dragging your chair closer to his bed as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. His hair is a fluffy mess, and his bangs hang in front of his eyes in wisps as he sends you a sleepy smile

"Like shit. I had a weird dream about Shoto though...he was a fish and I was trying to stab him with my fishing hook, but the little jerk kept...slipping away." He mumbles tiredly, immediately wincing at the look of genuine concern on your face

"That is...very interesting, Touya!"

The rest of the morning consisted of the usual day to day activities. You and Touya had a small chat about Natsuo and Fuyumi, and he spoke of the little bits and pieces he remembered about them from his childhood. There was a small but fond smile on his face as he recalls the times Natsuo and him would play outside in the rain together, a little Fuyumi following them and jumping around in her rain boots.

In the afternoon, you both walked through the gardens once again. Sitting in the grass for a while, you taught Touya a few more breathing exercises for him to practice on. You hold his hand in a gentle grip, a single finger pressed over his pulse as Touya imagined himself melting into the ground.

The grass was covered with a soft layer of dewy snow, and every time Touya exhaled—there would be puffs of chilling white air swirling from his mouth. The cold weather didn't stop either of you from wandering outside—only because you had practically suffocated Touya with a bundle of jackets and enough layers to keep him warm enough through an ice age.

Night came just as it always did, but Touya was about to break routine just a little bit.

His fingers brush over the crinkled paper under his pillow. It had been folded into thirds, and the creases in the paper were very prominent. The reason for this was due to the fact that Touya kept on unfolding and folding the letter over and over again—re reading his words and trying to figure out how to give his letter to you so you could make sure it got to Shoto.

Touya wanted Shoto to read his letter before he came back home, just so Shoto knew that if Touya wouldn't meet his gaze or if his responses to him were cut short—he was still trying his best.

"What's that, Touya?" You question curiously, tilting your head and offering the paper in his hands a quick glance. He stares down at it for a moment before speaking

"I..want you to give this to Shoto."

There's a beat of silence that passes between the two of you. It was like he'd dropped a rock into still water, watching the rippling effects before the surface went still once again. There's a hundred questions swirling in your eyes. Touya can see them. He grabs your hand slowly, gently swiping his thumb over the familiar skin of your knuckles before he places the paper in your hands

"Read it."

Your eyes slowly drag from his eyes to the paper that rested in your hands. His eyes were solemn, forever patient as he waited for you to open his letter

"Are you sure, Touya?" You ask softly, making no move to open the letter until he gave you his confirmation

He nods slowly, staying quiet for a moment before speaking

"I want you to, Y/n."

He needs you to try and understand his feelings for Shoto, which were complicated beyond belief. He used to hold nothing for resentment for him, a hatred that seemed too strong to put out. But now it was put out, and in place of his hatred was a feeling Touya was having a lot of trouble understanding.

Shoto was a good kid. Touya didn't want to mess this up.

You nod before your fingers move to open the letter. Your eyes flow over the few words written on the page quietly. Touya's suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed with how hard and long you were staring at his letter. Come on, his hand writing had improved! Were you still having trouble reading it?

He's about to speak when you suddenly fold the letter back up, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, personal agenda. There's delicate flowers plastered onto the cover of it, and you open it up to today's date before tucking Touya's letter in between the pages. You close it and place it back into your bag as Touya exhales through his nose

"Thank you," He murmurs quietly, his cheeks flushing warm under your gratifying gaze

There's so many more things Touya wants to say to you. He wants to grab your hands and kiss each one of your fingertips, sensually and slowly.

He thinks you want to reach out and touch him too. Your hand is gentle as you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. There's a thousand unspoken words in the gesture.

Whatever was between you and Touya was an undeniable thing. But your gentle smile is almost like you're saying not yet. He wants to ask you when. But for now, he'll just squeeze your hand back instead.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; hi fellow readers!! :3 i was thinking abt that scene where little touya was trying to talk to little natsuo about endeavor while they were laying down and little natsuo is just falling asleep & nawtt listening. imagine how much he wished he could get those moments with his big bro back after touya burned up 🥺

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Imagine Hawks confiding in Endeavor that he’s been sleeping with one of the League members and Endeavor is like “Whatever you have to do to get information, do it.” and then later realizes that he was encouraging Hawks to go fuck his son 💀💀💀

008. CARNATIONS

Endeavor's privilege of ever stepping foot in the same room as Touya had been rightfully revoked for the next four months. And after that time was up, Touya's state would be reevaluated to determine if Endeavor would ever be allowed to see or speak to him again.

The weeks after the incident consisted of multiple surgeries. His burns, thankfully, were not as bad as they had once been.

You're not sitting in your usual spot. You're sitting on Touya's bed today—criss crossed as he sat right beside you. A chilling breeze blew through the room, sending the curtains fluttering as you shiver. You reach up and pull the window close, locking it.

Right now, you're teaching Touya how to make paper snowflakes. There was glitter, markers, and stray scraps of paper everywhere. Touya's eyes are narrowed in concentration as he watched you angle your scissors, your gentle tone giving him step by step instructions on how to cut out the necessary shapes and folds

"Okay...we overlap and cut the triangle in the corner over here, Touya." You mumble, tongue poked out just the slightest bit in concentration as you cut with every ounce of attention and care you could give. Touya's eyes flickered between his sheet of paper and back to yours, his hands near trembling as he struggled to create the same cuts in the paper you made with ease.

After an agonizing ten minutes, you're unfolding your paper to reveal a pretty snowflake. Touya watches the way your eyes gleam with pride as you hold it up for him. It was elegant with clean cuts on each corner, obviously made by someone who knew what they were doing. Hesitantly, Touya unfolds his own paper before staring down at the monstrosity in his lap blankly

"This is the ugliest fucking thing I've ever laid eyes on, Y/n." Touya mumbles dryly, holding up his snowflake with so much distaste in his expression that you can't even hold back your laugh

Touya catches the smile tugging at your lips, and he can't even be mad. He can't blame you for his snowflake turning out so messed up. Every time you were voicing the directions for him, he was too busy looking at your face instead of paying attention to his snowflake. But it's not his fault! You were so engrossed in cutting, and he had the perfect opportunity to stare at you as openly and shamelessly as he wanted to without you noticing.

"Touya, I'm not quite sure what to say. I mean—it's very...unique!" You voice, trying to contain your smile as you smooth out the crinkled edges of his paper

"Yeah, yeah..." He mumbles, staring at you quietly as you try to fix his snowflake—if you could even call it one. He's snapped out of his trance when you place your hand over his and grab the scissors, guiding his movements to make minor incisions into the paper

"We can cut these parts off to fix the shape..." You whisper, concentration lining every single one of your features as you snip away

The day Touya allowed you to physically hold him for the first time was when the invisible boundary between the two of you had been erased. He lets you touch him now—hold him and comfort him when some nights are harder than others.

Your hand is a lot smaller than his. He could cup the entirety of it in his palm alone if he wanted to. Your slender fingers curl around his rougher and larger ones along with the scissors, and you feel soft against his skin.

You take your warmth with you when you pull your hand away, excitedly waiting for Touya to unfold the new snowflake as you smile. He unfolds it with his own grin, which widens a bit when he sees the finished product.

It was a little wonky, and maybe some edges were torn from Touya's fingertips pressing into them too hard—but the two of you had made it together, so it was perfect in Touya's eyes.

"Let's tape them onto the window!" You chirp, quickly hopping off of the bed as Touya follows behind you. You quickly tear a piece of tape off and hand it to Touya. He tapes his snowflake high on the window. The snow outside the hospital fell softly. There were strong gusts of wind that carried the falling snowflakes and had them dancing and swirling through the air

Touya watched you stand on your tippy toes—trying to get your snowflake as high as his. Carefully, he grabs your wrist and uses his other hand to pry the snowflake out of your grip before he grabs the tape and secures it right beside his on the window

You blink a bit in surprise when he does this, before smiling softly to yourself as he carefully taped it

After they're hung, the two of you step back to admire your work. There's hundred of snowflakes littering the window on the other side of the glass. You and Touya's much larger snowflakes fit like puzzle pieces amongst the mass of the much smaller ones

"I think we did an excellent job, Touya!" You grin, tucking your hand into a fist as you rest your chin on it. Touya merely hums in response, watching your eyes shine with satisfaction before you turn around, hands moving to rest on your hips.

"All right...now it's clean up time." You pout, eyes raking over all of the arts and crafts scaling the room as Touya nods with a grunt, already beginning to pick up the scraps of paper that were on his bed

You both work in peaceful silence, working efficiently and maneuvering around each other easily as you clean. How the two of you managed to make such a mess in just barely over an hour is beyond you. But cleaning up with Touya is calming. The whole feeling is simply domestic—and you feel silly trying to imagine you and Touya in a different environment besides the hospital

Maybe...maybe he'd enjoy doing little crafts and activities like this in your living room with you. You quickly shake away the thought, embarrassed with yourself as you sneak a quick glance towards Touya—who was screwing the lid back onto a small bottle of glue that laid on his side table

You sigh quietly enough so he doesn't hear, mentally scolding yourself for allowing your feelings to peak through once again. Your heart wasn't your priority, Touya's heart was. It didn't matter what you wanted, what he needed was more important.

Once you toss the remaining scraps into the dust bin, you see Touya already sitting on the edge of his bed idly. His long legs are stretched out in front of him comfortably as he tilts his head at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes

"What'cha thinking about?"

Touya was extremely attentive. Most patients struggled to pick up on small cues or even notice the little things. They were usually up in their own world and rarely ever focused on the people around them

Touya was the exact opposite. He managed to catch every shift in your expression and pinpoint the exact moment your mood changes. Which unfortunately, was not a good thing for you. You had a pretty bad poker face—that was something Touya had learned pretty quickly.

"Oh! Uh—I was thinking that maybe we could, uh, play a board game?"

Touya smirks a bit when you fumble with your words. He nods with a hum, knowing well you were lying but deciding he'd let you get away with it this time

You send him a flustered nod, quickly exiting the room and clicking the door close a little too fast, leaving Touya alone with his thoughts.

You take a steadying breath as you board the elevator, pressing the first floor button as you tap your foot against the tiled floor. You allow your back to rest against the wall as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting out a groan of embarrassment.

Exiting the elevator with a pout and eyes glued to the floor, you don't even notice your supervisor scrambling towards you with a frantic look in her eyes as she desperately tries to warn you. Unfortunately, you don't hear her until it's too late—the Todorokis reach you before she does

"Y/n," Shoto calls out to you, a tinge of relief in his tone at the sight of you as you whip around to meet his voice in surprise

Beside Shoto stood Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Rei Todoroki. You freeze in place, slowly meeting their curious gazes with parted lips

This was very unexpected. You're at a loss of words for a moment as you let their presence solidify in your mind—the gears shifting in your head when you see the scars carved onto each one of their faces

Rei watched you with round and attentive eyes, and you finally swallow the lump in your throat as you approach the family

"I am so sorry—I—wow."

Rei smiles kindly at you, but Fuyumi is the one to step forward and speak up

"Hello Y/n, I'm Fuyumi—Shoto's older sister! I'm sure he's told you about us, right?" She questions with a nervous laugh, sending Shoto a weary glance as the teenage boy stares back blankly, not catching on

You smile at Shoto's obliviousness, nodding your head quickly. Fuyumi smiles before they all bow in greeting the same way Shoto did whenever he'd meet you—you should've known the rest of the family would be just as traditional as him, and you quickly bow in respect to match their greeting before gesturing your head towards the hall

"I'm guessing you're all here to discuss something important. Let's go to my office, please."

Your office is cozy. Various plants are scattered all over and lamps hang low from the ceiling, casting the small room in a warm glow—the atmosphere was welcoming and seemed to put everyone at ease the moment they stepped in. It was a much welcomed change compared to the harsh white lights in the hospital's waiting area.

"We want to start off by apologizing for my father's actions. He was being stupid. Again. We've all spoken to him about what happened, and he hoped we would tell you he is truly sorry." Shoto starts, his voice heavy with truth and guilt. Rei watched you intently as her youngest son spoke, wanting to see your reaction.

"I understand, Shoto. Thank you." You reply softly as Shoto glances towards his siblings and mother before leaning back onto the couch. It's Natsuo who speaks up next.

"I know we haven't spoken in person before, Y/n. But I just...I wanted to thank you. Shoto's told me all you've done for my brother—Touya's always been stubborn and hard to understand. I didn't have much faith in a full recovery for him, especially with the shit our father pulls. But—" Natsuo's voice trembles as he suddenly cuts himself off, dropping his head in his hands as he lets out a shuddering breath

Fuyumi places a hand on her brother's back and rubs it in an attempt to comfort him before taking a deep breath

"Touya is our brother. We need to help him. And...it's been a while since he's been admitted into this program. And we've talked it over with your boss and the other doctors after looking over the contract we signed..." She trails off, suddenly at a loss for words as you nod your head slowly, encouraging her to continue.

"Touya's allowed to have monitored visits out of the hospital if it means it'll improve his condition...Our dad moved out so he won't be a problem at all, Y/n! I mean, the contract said if you gave us the green light telling us Touya was stable enough then there was a possibility...But we won't do anything unless you think it's okay! We just...want him home for the holidays. New Years is almost here, and it's a time for new beginnings. What better way to start it than with Touya-nii?"

Touya is bored.

You were supposed to be getting his board game, yet you've been gone for nearly half an hour. He's not worried, merely annoyed with the fact that you were probably whisked away to partake in some side task

The remote plugged into the side of his bed was for emergencies only. But right now, it was practically singing his name. Touya's finger hovers over the red button, and with a silent apology—he presses it about a dozen times before hanging it back onto the side of his bed

He lies down, folding his arms behind his head with a sly grin as he taps his foot against the edge of his bed, already looking forward to your inevitable return.

The silence after Fuyumi's words stretched for only a few moments before Touya's buzzer rang like hell—blaring loudly as everyone in the room flinched from the sound.

You wince, desperately trying to mute it as your hands miss the power off button four times from pure nerves

"Touya..." You whisper, pulling yourself out of your seat

"I'm so sorry, I need to go see him—can we please reschedule for all of us to meet again? Maybe sometime tomorrow?" You wince, bowing your head in shame at your sudden departure as Rei finally speaks

"That's ok. You can just call and let us know of your decision. We told you everything we needed to." She says, slowly standing up as your heart rate picks up

This woman was Touya's mother. That fact makes you look at her differently.

"Of course—I'll get back to you all as soon as I can. Oh! Hold on!" You say, moving to the side of your desk and grabbing the small bowl that laid on the corner

"Candy?"

None of them can refuse your kind smile. They all pick one out before filing out of your office, bidding you goodbye. Shoto sends you one last lingering look over his shoulder before he quietly closes the door behind him

After quite literally collapsing against the wall, you take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself and make sense of what had just happened

They want Touya to go home for the holidays. You were suddenly glad you didn't have to give them a response right now, because you couldn't. Not without talking to Touya first, at least. You were still unsure on how he felt about his mother or siblings, especially Shoto. It was territory you hadn't ventured into with Touya yet, and the fact that you had to do it now made your insides squeeze with anxiety

The walk back to his room was not a pleasant one.

Touya knows something is wrong when he catches sight of the look on your face. That and the fact that you had returned without his board game.

"What's wrong?"

His frown only deepens when he's met with silence, and you slowly approach his bed before sitting on your chair beside him. Your fingers trace patterns on your thigh as your brows furrow, eyes in deep thought.

You finally turn to look at him. He stares back silently, unblinking. It was like he refused to blink at all—afraid he'd miss something in your expression that would explain what had you all quiet like this.

"Touya...how do you feel about Shoto?"

He goes rigid beside you in an instant, and you almost wince at the way his eyes ice over. He doesn't respond. His eyes just bore into yours as he tries to figure out where this conversation was going.

"Fuyumi and Natsuo, too. And...your mother."

His eyes are as hard as ice now. It reminds you of how he looked at you when you'd first met him—feelings and emotions swimming under the frozen layer that caged them as they thrashed against the solid ice in a desperate attempt to break free.

His gaze slowly narrows, and you finally realize how hard he was gripping the sheets beneath him when you look down and see his knuckles had turned a ghostly white.

"Is that why you were gone so long? Were you talking with them?"

He spits the words out before he can stop himself, and they come out so much meaner than he wanted them too. His shoulders slump in defeat as the tension in his brows disperses the slightest bit, all before he lets out a sigh.

"How do I feel about them...how do you think I feel about them?"

"I think you love them."

He scoffs at the nerve you have. And the fact that you're right.

He finally looks away from you, glaring at the ground instead of you because you don't deserve his attitude.

"Course I fucking do. Doesn't mean I want to see them. Not now, not ever." He mumbled quietly. He was lying. Both of you knew it.

Shoto. Mom. Natsuo. Fuyumi. Just thinking of them made his head hurt. Made his heart hurt.

You can sense the unease in Touya's muscles as he bit the inside of his cheek, and you realize he's trying not to cry when he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration with himself.

"Let's end the night here, Touya. Lay in bed and just...think about it. This isn't easy—not the slightest bit. I want to give you some alone time so you can really figure out how you feel, okay?" You say softly, gently pushing on his shoulders to lay him down

He gives you no verbal response, just nodding his head at your words as his head hits the pillow.

He lays stiffly, watching as you pack your bag as you routinely do before you leave. He's slowly building the courage to speak what's on his mind...

"Are they all okay? After..."

Your eyes soften when you understand what he's asking, slowly approaching his bed as you try and find the right words. All of them would be scarred for life after Touya's attack. Mentally, and physically.

"Everyone was affected deeply by the war. But your family misses you, Touya. What happened in the past can never be erased or forgotten, but we can do our best to make up for our mistakes."

He's quiet again. He's deep in thought for a while before he slowly nods

"I'll think about what you said."

You nod softly, turning off his lamp. Touya looks like a kicked down puppy, his eyes tired and sad and he looks like he could take a nap that lasted for a century.

You can't stop yourself from leaning down and pressing a soft, lingering kiss onto his forehead.

Touya's not stupid. He knows doctors aren't this gentle and loving with their patients. You know this too. His gaze speaks a million emotions as he stares at you with wide eyes

Your fighting the urge to climb into the hospital bed with Touya to simply hold him. Touya slowly reaches out for your hand, his scarred lips brushing against your knuckles as he whispers goodnight into your hand, pressing a soft kiss onto your skin.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; hi babiesss :3 this chapter was much needed after the last few. also, comment if u think touya would like to meet y/n's cats! (she's a cat lady in case u couldn't tell) also this girl is gonna get her ass FIRED is she keeps this up lmaoo & rememberrrr i love u all!! i'm having so much fun with carnations and i'm glad you all are too :)

tags! (tysm for all the support you sweet souls 🥺🩷🩷🩷)

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FILLING IN | BAKUGOU x READER ˖˚˳⊹

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

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

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

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

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

“Bibimi—” Yaoyorozu started.

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

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

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

This was not good.

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

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

Oh, production was not going to be happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a humiliating first impression that had been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well—no—”

“You clean?” he asked.

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

“Then what?” he prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except then Bakugou walked in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately, everything else disappeared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. A smile played across his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna let me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday Shouto!

(Featuring Touya being the terrible influence he was always meant to be)

frothing at the mouth over sweet lover boy hawks who genuinely loves taking care of you

you’ve got a headache? this man is literally flying to the pharmacy to pick up medication and ginger ale and crackers and a weighted blanket that he makes sure to wrap you up in as soon as he gets home

you’re stressed about work? he’s talking you through every scenario and ranting about your boss (behind the scenes he’s checking through your company’s records and keeping tabs on your coworkers for blackmail to make sure everything’s above board, gotta make sure his baby’s not being exploited)

he’s a giver through and through, almost doesn’t know how to stop himself from going too hard, from falling too fast

so he channels all of that giving nature, that overwhelming almost animal instinct to take care of you, into his performance in bed

keigo is not satisfied unless he’s pulled at least three orgasms out of you—only then will he finally stuff your pulsing needy hole with his big cock

loves loves loves the little squeal you make when he finally bottoms out, drives him fucking crazy to hear you struggle to take him all the way

“that’s it, little bird, told ya we’d make it fit, huh?”

holds your hips and fucks into you mercilessly, “don’t you fucking run away from me, dovey, this pretty pussy’s been begging for my cum all day, hasn’t she?”

props you up on his thighs and spread yours legs apart so you can see his cock splitting you open, both of your juices smeared across your skin. makes you watch yourself cum in the mirror, whispering praise to you the entire time about how well you take him, how good you are, how fucking pretty you look like this—

has the aftercare of a fucking god—feeds you, bathes you, takes you back to bed and tucks you up against him until you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat