Seventeen years. Six thousand two hundred and five days. That’s how long you’ve known each other. You met your best friend when you were both toddlers. Your mothers were best friends in college, and when your family moved back to Miyagi, you got your first best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.
Reminiscing on your past memories, there are few memories that don’t include Hajime. Both childhood homes are littered with pictures of you both from diapers through college with a few recent shots sprinkled in, but pictures of the both of you together became rarer and rarer as you got older. As you look throughout your parents’ living room, your eyes fondly land on a picture of you, Hajime, and Oikawa Tooru, the chaotic drama queen of your trio. The three of you were about ten at the time and inseparable.
“fuck, climb on my lap, baby.” hajime mumbled breathlessly as you both parted, a string of your shared saliva briefly being the only thing connecting you two.
you obligated, throwing a thigh over his thigh and straddling him, your core hovering over his own as your hands braced themselves on his broad shoulders.
he chuckled at you, looking down disapprovingly.
“not like that, angel. like this,” his strong hands gripped your waist before pushing your hips down until they met with his own. he grinned at both the gasp of surprise that left your throat and the full feeling of your weight on him. “there, all better.”
you blushed furiously, body suddenly feeling too hot and anxious too meet his rough eyes.
“now, come here…”
one hand traveled up to your neck where he caressed the flesh tenderly with his calloused hands, rough fingers spreading across your face as his lips found your once more.
the kiss was breathtaking, iwaizumi’s lips moved with yours passionately as if he had all the practice in the world and knew every single thing about kissing your lips— as if he studied the movements of them with such concentration that he would soon nail it everytime.
his tongue slipped into your mouth, wet, adventurous and warm as if explored you curiously, like it was the first time all over again.
a small muffled moan left you as his large hand squeezed your thigh, in a way of possession and want that nearly made you take him there on your couch.
but you couldn’t, your parents would be home soon and would absolutely freak if they caught you two kissing— let alone having sex in their living room.
your father didn’t mind the kissing as much, just reminding you two to take it somewhere else next time, which you normally followed.
but they were out tonight for a friendly get together with coworkers and their significant others, not coming home till later.
you had one hour to go, and might as well made it count before your mother was not-so-politely hinting that it was time for you both to bid your goodbyes and part ways until the next day.
the ten hours apart pained you to think about, even as you had his tongue shoved in your mouth and hands in his hair.
suddenly, just as you mustered up enough courage to slip your tongue into his mouth as well, your charming boyfriend began to suckle on the muscle shamelessly, holding back the smirk that threatened to grow as you whimpered.
his hands moved from their spots, meeting on the small of your back and pushing you close against his torso.
“i want you forever.” he groaned into against your lips as the kiss slowed suddenly, your dog whimpered for attention from the other side of your bedroom door reminding the both of you just where you were.
you smiled, catching your breath as you looked at him, admiring how hot he looked when he was disheveled by you and your lips.
I love the idea of Bakugou’s popularity skyrocketing on social media all because of his relationship with you. He doesn’t give a shit of course, but he treats you like a queen and the public absolutely eats it up. They think you’re so cute together!
And once the kiddos come along omg. You post one picture of him holding his baby and smiling at them and everyone freaks the fuck out
I love the idea of Bakugou’s fans shipping you with him and like fully getting behind and supporting your relationship? And like they’re screenshotting or gifing moments in interviews where he’s asked questions about you and they can just see his face light up?
I imagine when you have your first child together Bakugou’s post announcing it is just a picture with the baby’s tiny hand wrapped around one of his thick fingers.
But your socials are going crazy because you post a few candid photos of him on your story. Sitting in one of those hospital armchairs while he cradles the little bundle, the softest look on his face as you caption it “my world”.
I just obsess over the idea of him breaking the internet with you💕
"I think I knew it was over when I stopped crying."
Your heart aches as you listen to your friend's story, the events leading up to their recent breakup.
"I used to get so upset when he wouldn't come to bed with me, crying because I felt so lonely and wondering if there was something wrong with me...and then eventually...the tears stopped coming and I knew."
You nod solemnly. "It was over. I'm so sorry." You offer a hug, not sure what else to say or do.
The conversation doesn't last much longer. You part ways with a promise to check in again with each other soon and make sure your friend knows to call you for anything.
On the walk home you think about everything you heard.
The quick fuse.
Inability to apologize.
Indifference to each other's presence.
It really is heartbreaking and your friend's heavy emotions cling to you as you climb the stairs to your apartment.
"I'm home," you call out as you leave your shoes and your boyfriend's steady voice answers from the kitchen.
"Welcome back." Sakusa doesn't turn around when you shuffle in; his attention's on the bento he's packing for lunch tomorrow.
He's hunched over the counter as his fingers place each piece of food with a care and delicacy that contradict the ferocity of his presence on the court.
"How was your visit?" He asks. You don't need to see his face to know his brow will be pinched in that adorably serious way.
You don't answer.
Instead, heart sopping with a myriad of your own emotions, you hug him from behind. He straightens up and tries to look over his shoulder as you press your face into his back.
"I love you, Omi. So much."
You can feel his hesitation and concern, his task momentarily forgotten.
"I appreciate everything you do, everything you've done for us...for me..." You cling to him like he's a life raft. "Acknowledging your faults and wanting to grow as a person...helping me do the same. And not because you don't think I'm good enough but to support me and help me be the best I can be...to help us be the strongest we can be..."
You shakily inhale and squeeze him. "I'm so grateful to have you in my life...and I love you...so much."
You don't need to see his face to know how close he is to tears, hearing everything in his voice when he replies with equal fervency.
like bakugou will stay home with her when she catches the cold running around the pre-school ( ‘probably started with the kaminari kid…snotty bastard…’) and since you’re away on a mission he gladly takes up the opportunity to spend time with and spoil his baby girl.
so they’re snuggling on the couch and she’s watching the cartoons katsuki secretly hates but she loves, and probably has you on FaceTime while you busy yourself in the hotel the agency has you set up in. “y’still feelin’ icky baby?” you ask her but you’re out of frame, sorting out your hero costume for tomorrow.
“mmm,” she whines but doesn’t look away from the screen even when you pop up on katsuki’s.
he leans down, pinching her chubby cheek all while squeezing her to his warm chest to help her sweat out the fever. “she’s been coughin’ up a storm, might lose her lung, ain’t that right pretty girl?” another squeeze and a gruff laugh from your husband has your smiling, pausing your actions just to watch your two blondies. “she says yes.” bakugou flips the camera to show your daughter tucked into the abyss of his chest, thumb in her drooling mouth, all dressed in her dynamight onesie and her ruby eyes zoned in on the behated coco melon.
“well tell her, momma says to take her meds and be good for daddy.”
“aye aye, momma bear.” bakugou nods, flipping the camera back to him— making your heart flutter even after all this time. “if her temp raises, ‘m gonna take her t’see that doctor half ‘n half recommended and— oh my god.”
the phone drops and you perk up in your spot half way across japan, stomach flashing with worry at the idea something drastic has happened to your baby girl. “katsuki! what happened?”
“she sneezed, her nose…looks like mine. s’so fuckin’ cute.” he mumbles, showing your daughter again. she sits up on her own, lips drawn into a pout with a trail of snot running from her cute little nose— crinkled just a bit like katsuki’s whenever he snarls or grunts. your baby looks far from happy, but it’s too cute a sight for you to even be mad at your husband for cursing. “look at ‘er, precious freakin’ girl,” bakugou coos, wiping her nose with a finger bent at the joint and brushing back tufts of her blonde hair that would have been all his if it weren’t for your texture being there before showing himself again.
and even he has a pout on his face too, and there’s no doubt in your mind that your little girl is definitely katsuki bakugou’s daughter.
Your shock is evident in your wide-eyed stare, her lips licked in a tight frown as she scans your appearance—the mess you both returned in is a horrendous sight to the woman and the last thing she had ever expected from you. She doesn’t care for the reason you’re messy, or that you’re finally standing beside Sakusa by choice. She simply sees the dirt at the hem of your dress and creases in your clothes; the way the river water had forced your neatly shaped hairstyle into a bird's nest. And she cares that Sakusa, the future king of the kingdom that she has devoted herself to, is in the same state beside you.
She opens her mouth and you know there’s an onslaught of disappointment is boiling at the back of her throat, threatening to spill and spoil the happiness filling the palace more by the second, but she stops herself: it’s not acceptable for her to have an outburst in front of so many people that she perceived to be lower than her.
warnings: angst, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), overbearing/toxic mother again, talk of not eating (this is not a common theme throughout this; this will be the only time it is mentioned), mean sakusa :/ (please let me know if i've missed any)
notes: reading through the tags some of you left on the first chapter made me so so happy. i am already having so much fun with this story and i'm so glad people are enjoying it!! thank you <3 (check status of taglist in the masterpost)
this is the longest thing i’ve ever written, i usually struggle to get long fics done so im hoping this doesn’t drag on 😬
Had the reason for the celebration not been focused on you, you may have enjoyed the elegant music playing throughout the vast ballroom. The sound of string instruments danced to your ears, blending beautifully with the piano taking control of the movements of everyone brave enough to take a partner to the centre of the room.
Even though it was a magnificent event, dedicated to you and your husband, you could only stare at it with hopes that time will be in your favour; that the end of the night will come quickly before you can finally remove the tight corset wrapped around you and climb into bed. But, you’re also hoping the night never ends. There’s part of you that wants to enjoy the reception and there’s more of you that wants to avoid the first night you’re expected to share with your husband.
You know neither of you are anticipating the evening; you’re sure nothing will come of it anyway. But you know what everyone will believe when you wake in the morning, having lied beside him; that was something you needed them to believe.
Hidden within the music, you can hear the clinking of flatware on plates as people stand by the displays of food, happily talking and laughing whilst you, under orders of your mother, stay at the side of the room theoretically waiting for the moment Sakusa asks you to dance; if he did so. That’s not what you’re truly awaiting; with your mother insisting you must keep a certain appearance for your special day, she demands you stay away from the food that could ruin your dress and the red wine being served is a definite no as the waiters walk past–it’s been a long day and you’re desperate for anything.
beta read by:@kuroosdarling ty so much, ily you’re the best 💕
warnings: angst, forced marriage, overbearing/toxic(?) mother (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)
notes: this might just be my favourite fic i’ve ever written & it’s only the first chapter! i’m so excited to share this!!! 😆😆😆 (check status of taglist in the masterpost)
Since you had woken up that morning, you hadn’t had a single chance to breathe.
Your mother, a highly respected yet childish woman, had woken you up far earlier than you had expected with a smile on her face you’d never seen before, dragging you out of bed and starting your long day of preparation. One you had dreaded for months.
Pulling you to your feet and immediately pushing you towards a bathtub, giving you the only fifteen minutes without her until you were walking down the aisle. And the only fifteen minutes to have any relaxation until that moment, with your maid gently washing your hair as you stare forward, dreaming of the time when this was the last of you worries; and you wish those fifteen minutes would never end especially when you’re wrapped in a robe with your mother listing demands of how she wants your day to go.
When Wakatoshi reads the text he’s half exhausted from a grueling day of training, chest heaving and sweat lining his top lip and hairline, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re telling him this. He’s straddling a bench on the sidelines with Aran Ojiro in front of him.
Maybe he stares at the text for too long because Aran’s head suddenly appears in his line of visions.
“Mad has pink hair”, is the first thing to leave Oikawa Tooru’s mouth when his fellow bandmate and best friend enters their practice room half an hour later than usual.
Bakugou has to pick you up from outside the club after your smart mouth gets you in trouble with the bouncer on a girls night, and you have the audacity to look up at him after he dips down for a sweet kiss, telling you it’s time to head home and you say:
“Make me.”
His expression goes blank for a second, watching you plant your feet and cross your arms, clearly still riled up from your altercation and just raises an eyebrow.
“Wanna run that by me again, beautiful?” He invites, his face neutral but his tone letting out a warning beneath the sweet words. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, but you stand your ground.
“I said: ‘make. Me.’” You snip back, and he sighs, turning to the security guard who’s clearly trying not to pay attention to the conversation (and failing).
“You heard her say that, right?” He questions, and the guard shuffles in surprise for a moment before nodding, crossing his arms.
“Yes, sir, Dynamight,” he agrees quietly and Bakugou nods thoughtfully as he turns to you.
“Yeah I was afraid I heard that right,” he sighs, suddenly squatting down to wrap his large arms around your calves and stand, hoisting you over his shoulder as you shriek in surprise.
“Katsuki Bakugou! Put me the fuck down!” You protest, fingers digging into his black tshirt to keep yourself steady.
He shrugs, the movement jostling your whole body as he speaks. “You told me to make you, so I’m obliging,”
You sigh, resigning yourself to relaxing against him, his gait smooth despite the extra weight as he carries you to his car, waving a thanks to the security guard as he passes.
You glance down at the ground, and can’t help but embarrass him a little bit more, fingers sliding down to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing slightly.
He jumps and growls out something under his breath and you laugh, releasing him. “Anyone ever told you you’ve got a really nice ass?” You tease, sitting up slightly to try and look at him.
You yelp in surprise when he lifts the skirt of your dress with one large hand and turns his head to sink his teeth into the fat of your ass before releasing it and giving the same spot a harsh smack, smoothing over the skin as your face heats and you try not to rub your thighs together. From somewhere nearby there’s a flash, and your certain some paparazzi somewhere just got the best shot of the week. You can see the headlines now.
His voice is low next time he speaks, drawing your attention back to him and sending warmth throughout your body. “Yeah, some could say the same for you, brat.”
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