Going From “celebrations On The Streets Of Rafah As Hamas Accepts Ceasefire Deal” To “Israel Chooses

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

You show me colors I can't see with anyone else

You are stuck in an unhappy marriage, not brave enough to leave your cheating husband. Until you meet Sukuna.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 10k Warnings: 18+, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, but not explicit, cheating (Reader's husband cheats on her, and later on, she cheats on him with Sukuna). Sukuna is a CEO (or can be read as a Yakuza boss, too). Sukuna + Reader are both in their thirties. The fic title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs", but in this story, the secret affair has a happy ending. This story is super self-indulgent, but I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it, too! Minors don't interact. Divider @./lovwoung

You often ask yourself what went wrong. How did you end up trapped in this unhappy marriage? Maybe you were too young, too inexperienced, too naive when you met your husband. Maybe you were too insecure, convinced no one would ever want you, and so you gratefully settled for the first man who showed interest in dating you.

Your relationship was never like those romances you knew from books or movies, but you assumed that was just how things were in reality. Your mom, your aunt, and everyone else told you how lucky you were to have finally found a man willing to be with you. How lucky to have found someone with a good job and from a good family. They were also the ones who pressured the two of you to get married, and ever since then, things have gone downhill.

Your husband hasn't shown you any love or affection in years. The only time he shows interest in you is when he wants to have sex, but even that is without any real intimacy. He hasn't kissed you in years, and if he did at this point, you would probably be disgusted by it. There is no love in this marriage.

The worst thing is you know he is cheating on you. You already suspected it when he suddenly had to stay at work a lot longer than usual and when he began to hide his phone screen from you. And then one night, you woke up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and that's when you overheard your husband talking on the phone with some other woman calling her angel and baby and telling her how beautiful she was.

Even though you didn't love him anymore, it still made your world tumble down around you.

You want to leave him, but you can't. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. You have always found it very hard to make decisions, and this one is huge. You have no idea where to go or how to get by on your own. All your savings went into buying this apartment, and now what?

And it's not just the financial aspect that worries you. Everyone has always told you that you would never survive on your own. They always kept you small, turning you into someone who is dependent on others. You got told that you are weird, not good enough, and incapable of ever taking control of your life. And at some point over the years, you started to believe that. Your self-confidence is non-existent.

You tell your mom about the cheating, and she tells you to stay with your husband.

"It's just a little fling. At least you are lucky that he doesn't want to divorce you. It would be such a financial disaster, and you know how you are. You don't do well on your own. Just stay with him and find joy in other things. Maybe pick up a new hobby. I could give you Kira's number. She just joined a nice Yoga class!"

You don't go to the Yoga class, but you also don't leave your husband. You try to pretend everything is fine. Try to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you are really just a hysterical, insecure, and overjealous idiot who misinterpreted things.

The months pass, and you catch him flirting on the phone several times. An annual business event is scheduled, which you always accompany him to, but he tells you it got canceled this year. Only to find out from the wife of one of his coworkers that the event took place as usual, but you and your husband simply never showed up. You know why. He didn't want you there. He didn't want to risk his little affair and his wife running into each other.

You've given up on love by now. You hate seeing ads for romance novels or rom-coms. You stop listening to music because most songs are lovesongs. For all you know, romantic love is just a made-up thing that people sing about and write about, but it's all just lies.

Or maybe it does exist in real life. But not for you. Maybe you simply aren't the type of woman who deserves to be loved. Maybe your mom is right, and you should just accept it.

So you stay with your husband, but you are dead inside.

Until you meet Sukuna.

He is everything you ever dreamed about in your secret fantasies that you started to develop to comfort yourself. A dreamed life, but now it's right in front of you, close enough to touch. Sukuna is a real gentleman. An attractive mix of a bad boy and a successful, serious businessman. Smart, confident, and sexy, with a boyish playfulness beneath his professional appearance.

Ironically, you meet him the night you try to save your marriage.

You are already sitting at the table for two you booked for a date in one of the best restaurants in the city. You put on makeup and spend an hour picking a dress in which you feel at least half attractive. And now you sit here, sipping your red wine, waiting for your husband to arrive, to hopefully bond with him again over a delicious dinner and a few hours where you can talk and maybe laugh together.

Only that your husband never shows up. You have already finished your first glass of wine and received several pitiful looks from the waitress when your phone buzzes with a message. It's your husband telling you he can't make it. "Something has come up at work. I don't know when I will be able to leave. Just have dinner without me."

You stare at the message for far too long, not even knowing how to respond. Feeling utterly humiliated, utterly hurt, and abandoned. Worthless. You know he is going to see his girlfriend instead tonight. His girlfriend, who is young and sexy, and can give him what he wants.

And suddenly, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You blink hastily, wiping angrily at your cheeks, trying everything not to ruin your makeup or have a breakdown in the middle of the crowded restaurant. But the waitress chooses that exact moment to walk up to you with an overly bright smile, asking,

"Excuse me, Madam. Would it be alright if someone joins you at your table?"

You look at her, caught off guard, really not wanting a stranger at your table in this horrid moment, but you are too polite to say no, and so you smile weakly back at her, pressing out in a tear-thick voice,

"Of course, I don't mind."

You wipe your eyes again, trying to will the tears away, as a tall man in a fancy-looking black suit and slicked-back pink hair comes into view. He is snapping at the waitress, clearly annoyed, saying something about how rude it is to forget his reservation and that this will have consequences since he is a regular customer, etc.

But he sits down across from you, still fuming as the waitress bows deeply several times, apologizing profusely for the mistake, promising that the man's food and drinks will be free tonight.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and orders a glass of red wine, which the waitress immediately scrambles to get for him.

You gulp hard, trying to regain composure, hoping you don't look as forlorn as you feel. You lift your head to nod at the man across from you, trying to muster up a polite smile because, after all, you have been trained from a young age to always be friendly.

You take him in and draw in a surprised breath. He is gorgeous. The most attractive man you have ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered with masculine but beautiful features. Angular jawline, intelligent maroon eyes, and sensual lips that are lifted in a smug smirk as he nods back at you,

"Excuse this inconvenience. I will make sure whoever is responsible will get fired."

And, of course, you splutter and are quick to try doing damage control, not wanting some poor person to lose their job over this.

"Oh no, please, it's no problem at all!"

The pink-haired man laughs softly, a low, husky sound that makes your pulse flutter nervously.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and muscular build, and the tattoos that line his handsome face. But he is distinguished and elegant, wearing a designer suit and an expensive watch. Clearly, he is a regular guest of a restaurant like this.

He looks like a successful CEO (or a Yakuza boss, your mind provides not helpful at all). He's definitely someone in a powerful position, judging by his whole appearance and the dominant and confident aura he exudes. But he also has pastel pink hair, a boyish grin, and a playful attitude that makes him seem not as scary as you first thought.

His wine arrives from a different waitress, and he thanks her politely, telling her,

"Put everything the lovely lady across from me orders on my card."

The waitress is quick to bow deeply with a polite, "Of course, Mr. Itadori," at the same moment, as your eyes widen, and you quickly argue,

"Oh no, please, I can't..."

But he smirks his charming smirk and lifts a large hand dismissively,

"It's the least I can do for ruining your evening in much-wanted solitude."

Much wanted solitude.

His words hit you to the core, making all the sadness well up in you again. If only it were true. If only you were truly a single, independent woman who came here after a successful day at work to enjoy dinner on her own in voluntarily chosen solitude.

But you are none of that. You are an abandoned and unloved wife with a boring job and no money, sitting here at a table for two because your husband ditched you to fuck his pretty little assistant in his office.

And suddenly, the tears are back in your eyes, making it hard to see. You quickly avert your shameful gaze, your hand grabbing your wine glass so tightly it almost breaks.

Your sight is blurry, but you can still see the shocked look on the man's face across from you. His eyes dart away from you but then back again, obviously not used to the company of a crying stranger. He clears his throat before he leans slightly across the table, lowering his voice to a soft murmur,

"Are you alright?"

You feel embarrassment flood you, feeling so mortified at your behavior. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you! This is so typical of you, ruining this stranger's evening, because you don't have your emotions under control and act like a complete fool. It's something your husband would chide you for or make fun of if he saw it.

"I... I am so sorry! Please just ignore me."

You hate how your voice breaks, and before you can suppress it, a pathetic-sounding sob falls from your lips. You press your hands to your face, sobbing silently into them, trying to hide from the world and from the poor guy who's forced to share this table with you.

But then you feel a tentative touch, a warm hand gently brushing over your arm, and you pull your hands from your face, blinking at your table partner, feeling your lips tremble and your face burning, knowing that you must look so ugly right now with your makeup ruined and tears and snot coating your face.

Another apology is already waiting on your tongue, but he shakes his head, and somehow, it's so authoritative but also gentle that your apology dies on your tongue. Instead, you blink at him, as he cocks his head and watches you thoughtfully, that low voice so smooth and soothing when he says,

"Don't apologize."

You nod, trying to smile gratefully at him, but fail miserably as his kind reaction only causes more tears to fall.

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Not a paper tissue, but an actual handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you reach for it automatically, thanking him. But you freeze the moment your hand wraps around the fabric, realizing it's made out of fine silk.

He raises an eyebrow,

"Please, take it."

"But I... I will just ruin it with my makeup..."

He huffs, a soft smirk lifting his lips,

"I don't care. I'll just buy a new one. Take it. I insist."

"Th.. thank you, sir. That's really sweet of you."

His lips twitch,

"You're welcome. And for you, it's Sukuna, not sir."

You sniffle, pressing his handkerchief against your cheeks as you nod and tell him your name.

His smirk softens to a small smile, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward your empty wine glass.

"Do you want another one of those? Looks like you could use it."

You nod as more tears well up in your eyes, and Sukuna snips his fingers, instantly summoning a waiter to your table as if they are all hovering nearby just waiting for Sukuna to voice a wish.

Five minutes later, you have another red wine to hold on to and sip on, which causes a comforting buzz in your head, and suddenly, it all breaks out of you, and you tell Sukuna everything. You tell him about your failed marriage, about how lonely you feel, how unloved. About your cheating husband. About how pathetic you think you are for not daring to leave him because you have never been on your own before and you have no one who has your back.

You cry and sob and take big gulps of the wine while pouring your heart out to this beautiful stranger sitting across from you. This guy who, despite his intimidating look, is surprisingly gentle with you and who doesn't mind that you stain his silken handkerchief with your mascara and lipstick.

Sukuna actually listens to you. He looks earnestly at you, clenches his jaw when you tell him how your husband treats you, and shakes his head when you say under tears how stupid you think you are.

"No, you aren't. Don't blame yourself. It's him. He is the problem. He is the asshole."

Sukuna is the first one who tells you that you deserve better.

You feel an unexpected relief at finally being able to pour your heart out to someone. And just when you get yourself enough under control again to begin feeling embarrassed at your outburst, Sukuna flashes you a smirk and raises an eyebrow, asking,

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

Which makes you forget the embarrassment and instead stare at him with big eyes and hurriedly splutter,

"Oh my god, no! This is not what I..."

You don't get any further because Sukuna begins to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes sparkle amusedly at you.

"Don't worry. I'm just joking."

You huff a breath of relief, followed by a little laugh. Sukuna's comment managed to pull you out of your little moment of regret, and you feel better again, taking another sip from your wine and even managing to eat a few bites of the meal Sukuna ordered for the two of you, claiming that an empty stomach is never good.

Sukuna is nice to you. It's astounding to you because, with the way he looks with those face tattoos and the slightly dangerous aura surrounding him, you would have never thought a man like him could be so nice. It brings more tears to your eyes, feeling too emotional from all the wine. But you use Sukuna's handkerchief to blot them away.

He leaves with you when you say you have to go home, walks around the table, and pulls out your chair like a real gentleman. He offers you his strong arm when you sway lightly on your heels. He helps you into your coat and accompanies you to the exit.

You stand in front of the restaurant on the busy street, but all you see is Sukuna, who stands so close to you that you can smell his cologne, a sensual, woodsy scent that fits him perfectly, smelling expensive and sexy.

He puts a large hand on your tear-stained cheek, cupping it gently, wiping a few fresh tears away, and you take a step closer to him as if drawn in by a magical force, craving this tender touch, even if it's just a stranger touching your cheek in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Sukuna is so tall and broad, making you feel so safe somehow, and before you can stop yourself, you lean your head against his broad chest, closing your eyes for a moment and sighing longingly. For the first time in so long, you feel as if you can breathe.

You reluctantly take a step back again, tilting your head to smile up at Sukuna, thanking him again for everything he did for you. And he grins at you and leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, while his hand still caresses your cheek,

"You deserve so much better than your asshole of a husband. Don't hesitate to call or text me when you need a break again."

And with that, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. It's such a delicate feeling, so soft and gone again in a split second that you aren't sure if it really happened or if you just imagined it, but it fills you with such warmth that it almost hurts.

Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, and you see a business card dangling from his long fingers. You take it from him with a small, grateful smile.

+++

Several days pass, during which you firmly ignore the business card that's still in your purse.

Waking up the next morning after meeting Sukuna made you feel strange. Guilty somehow. As if you had done something wrong. It's ridiculous, of course. Nothing happened between Sukuna and you. And if someone was supposed to feel guilt, it was your husband. And yet you refused to even look at the business card, feeling like you would be doing something bad if you even so much as entertained the idea of adding Sukuna's number to your contacts.

No, you would never contact Sukuna. You would do as your mom had said. Just accept the circumstances of your marriage and create your own happiness. Maybe you should really find a new hobby. Or maybe you could get a pet? A cat or a dog?

For the next few days, you almost manage to convince yourself that you are fine with your life. You keep yourself busy by researching different cat and dog breeds and starting a new TV show.

But then you walk in on your husband flirting with his affair on the phone again, and you see red. This time, you can't stop yourself from confronting him, from snapping at him and screaming at him under tears to stop it.

It leads to nothing, though. He is so unbothered, so smooth, lying through his teeth, downplaying it, claiming she is just a good friend, making you seem like some nutcase who overreacts at every little thing.

You escape to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring off into space as tears stream down your face, feeling so helpless in your rage and misery. What are you supposed to do when your cheating partner refuses to admit he is actually cheating on you?

You wish you had the courage to leave him. Or better, you wish he would take the decision from you and leave you so you won't be the one everyone blames for ending this seemingly perfect marriage! And so you won't have to be the one who makes a decision that will change your whole life.

You yank open your nightstand, searching for some paper tissues. And that's when you see Sukuna's handkerchief again, peeking out from under a package of chocolate cookies.

You brush tenderly over the soft, silken fabric. A small smile lifts your lips as your fingers brush over the initials embroidered on it in one corner in a fancy gold thread. S.I.. Itadori Sukuna.

You let out a long breath, wiping your tears away with one hand while the other holds the handkerchief. And suddenly, the clouds seem to disappear as you remember the warmth you felt when Sukuna cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away. And suddenly you know what you want to do.

You jump up and walk to your dresser, pull it open hurriedly, and yank out the purse you had with you in that restaurant. You open it, impatiently emptying its contents over your bed, until you see the business card with Sukuna's contact information.

On any other day, you would overthink things and take an hour to even make up your mind about what to write, but in the state you are in right now, everything seems so clear.

You grab your phone, add Sukuna's contact, and open a new text message. Your fingers seem to do the work without you consciously having to think about it as they quickly type a message:

"Hey. It's your surprise table partner from last Friday. Thank you again for being so nice to me and for your handkerchief."

You feel triumphant as you place your phone down on your nightstand. And then it buzzes, and your heart jumps to your throat. There's a reply.

"I'm glad you finally texted me. You are very welcome. How are you feeling?"

"I am ok. What about you?"

You cringe at your poor small-talk skills, but Sukuna is surprisingly easy to talk to. He tells you about his day, about business meetings, and what he will have for dinner.

There's a strange feeling spreading through your chest. A kind of longing. You crave the feeling of being near Sukuna again. How safe you felt when leaning your head against his chest for a few seconds. How seen you felt when he listened patiently to you and reassured you.

You want to see him again. Want that feeling again.

"I want to give you back your handkerchief. Where can we meet?"

You know you sound weird as fuck, but it's the only way you dare ask him to meet you again.

"I don't want that handkerchief back, sweetheart. But we should meet up anyway. I quite enjoyed your company. How about you join me again for dinner sometime this week?"

Oh.

Your heart is racing uncontrollably, and your hand shakes as you stare at Sukuna's message.

This is it. This is where things become dangerous. You know the right thing to do would be to say no. It's what a married woman should do. But your husband is in the living room, probably sexting his little affair, so why should you be a good wife?

And so you text Sukuna back, letting him know that dinner sounds great.

+++

The dinner with Sukuna is nice. Really nice. You catch yourself feeling so much lighter, your lips lifted in genuine laughter, your eyes shining with happiness as you spend your evening with Sukuna. He is a very charming conversationalist. Cocky, but in such a playful way that it makes you giggle and feel your face get hot from all the joy it brings you to playfully joke around with him and let him tease you in such a charming and light-hearted way.

Your meeting is innocent, nothing that could be counted as cheating. Just a man and a woman who enjoy good food and wine together and chat about everything and nothing. The occasional small touches don't count, right? Like when Sukuna's large hand brushes over the back of your much smaller hand that's resting on the table.

Or when he reaches across the table to cup your chin and wipe some cherry sauce off the corner of your lips with his thumb. But just because his gentle touch makes your skin tingle and your pulse quicken doesn't mean there is anything going on between Sukuna and you!

Sukuna refuses to let you pay, saying it's a delight for him to have you keep him company. And you laugh bashfully and wave him off but feel so giddy. Sukuna offers you his arm when you walk out of the restaurant, and you take it happily, marveling at how tall he is and how safe you feel walking at his side, biting your lip when you wrap your hand around his upper arm and feel his big biceps flex under your palm.

You say good night on the street in front of the restaurant, and before you know what you are doing, you wrap your arms around Sukuna for a light hug. You intend to pull away again immediately, just a quick, friendly hug, but you get stopped by Sukuna's strong arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly, hugging you back, and not letting you go yet.

He rests his chin on your head, and you have the enticing scent of his cologne in your nose again. You feel so warm and comfortable with Sukuna's strong arms around you, his tall, muscular body pressing against you, warm and reassuring. It makes you let out a shaky breath, overcome with feelings, because you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

Sukuna's low voice is a velvety rumble when he says,

"I am on the National Museum's VIP list. There will be a pre-opening event for a new exhibition this coming week. Heian era. It sounds interesting. Would you like to accompany me?"

You lift your head, looking curiously at Sukuna,

"What must one do to get added to the National Museum's VIP list?"

An amused smirk lifts Sukuna's lips, making him look so unfairly handsome,

"Oh, nothing much, just make one or two generous donations every year."

He shrugs, and you laugh, beaming up at him in amusement as you nod,

"I would love to accompany you."

"Sweet. It's settled, then. I'll text you the day and time."

You want to walk to the subway, but Sukuna stops you with a warm hand on your arm, saying he will drive you home. For a moment, you freeze, not knowing what to say. It feels wrong somehow to let another man drive you to the apartment you share with your husband. And maybe you should be cautious and keep a distance and not let Sukuna know exactly where you live.

But you shake yourself out of it. All of those things have been hammered into your brain all of your life, making you anxious and scared and never truly living your life. You are already meeting with Sukuna for dinner and will accompany him to a museum next week. The world won't end if he knows your address!

You smile at him and nod, telling him it would be very nice if he drove you. And Sukuna smiles back, a pleased look in his maroon eyes. He gently steers you towards the parking space with a large hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you stroll down the street.

You catch yourself having a more upright posture than usual, your head lifted, your lips adorned with a soft smile. You feel like the passerbies are all looking at you and Sukuna. Maybe thinking the two of you are a couple on a date, and the thought makes your stomach tingle.

Sukuna's car is a black Porsche. You don't even know why you are surprised. He grins lazily as he opens the door for you and helps you slip into the passenger seat, handing you your purse when you sit and carefully closing the door behind you before he walks around the front of the fancy sports car and gets into the driver's seat.

"Nice car," you say, and Sukuna turns to look at you with a teasing twinkle in his eyes,

"Well, I'm not a nice guy, so at least my car should be."

"Oh, I think you are very nice."

The two of you hold eye contact for a long moment, both pairs of eyes filled with amusement before you burst out giggling, and Sukuna joins you with his low laugh.

+++

You spend the next evenings at home, having dinner with your husband, who is busy with his phone most of the time, making the cold, heavy feeling in your stomach even worse.

Your only joy is the anticipation you feel in looking forward to Wednesday afternoon when you will meet Sukuna at the museum.

He is already waiting when you arrive, leaning casually against a pillar next to the entrance, tall and handsome with his perfectly styled pink hair and his Tom Ford suit. A dark red one this time, which makes his eyes look like red wine.

Sukuna is a beautiful man.

For a moment, you feel a nervous flutter in your chest, but it vanishes again when Sukuna grins at you and greets you with his warm, low voice and a large hand on your back, pulling you into a half hug.

He doesn't even have to say his name when the two of you approach the young man who greets the guests and ticks off their names on the guest list.

"Ah, Mr Itadori! Have fun at the exhibition. And thank you so much for your generous support."

Your hand slips naturally around Sukuna's arm as you stroll through the exhibition. It feels nice to be here. It makes you realize how long it's been since you last visited a museum. Or did any kind of activity, really. Your husband never had time for you during the last few years.

You can tell that Sukuna is genuinely interested in the exhibition. He already seems to be an expert on the topic, adding interesting facts to the already detailed info sheets next to each exhibition piece.

It's an equal amount of endearing and sexy how nerdy he seems to be about this. Attractive. You like smart men. You like it when a man is passionate about learning everything about a topic that interests him. And Sukuna is like that.

You hang on his lips, soaking up his knowledge, feeling way too hot when you watch the sparkle in his maroon eyes as he goes into a passionate monologue about political intrigues during the timeline of one of the exhibition pieces.

And he seems to like that you also show genuine interest in the exhibition and in what he has to say about it. He blesses you with a soft smile that makes your stomach flutter. You feel exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest, almost bursting with happiness. A long-forgotten feeling emerging again after so many years.

You thank Sukuna profusely for the fun afternoon, and he grins that charming, boyish grin at you and tells you he is grateful that you kept him such lovely company.

This time, there is no doubt about whether he really kisses your cheek or not. His lips linger on your heated skin for a long moment, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before Sukuna smiles at you and cups your other cheek with his hand, his long fingers caressing it slowly.

"Let's meet again for dinner next week, sweetheart."

+++

You pace your living room restlessly.

Your trip to the museum with Sukuna made you realize something. It made you realize what this giddy feeling is that has been filling you ever since you started to meet up with him. That light-hearted, fluttery, happy feeling you get when you see him or even just when you think of him (which is almost every waking second of your day).

You try to shut down those feelings, telling yourself it's dangerous to let someone make you feel so much again. It makes you too vulnerable. It will only lead to more chaos and more hurt.

Why would a man like Sukuna even be interested in anything serious with me? He can probably have anyone. Either he only sees me as a friend, or I am just a little fling to him. I have to stop this before I get in even deeper!

In the coming week, you cancel your dinner with Sukuna by sending him a short text telling him you have a cold. He sends you a get well soon message and asks if you need anything, which you deny, even while you sob silently because Sukuna is so caring, and all you want to do is run into his strong arms and forget about your joyless life.

But you stay strong and put your phone away, forbidding yourself from sending more messages to Sukuna.

Your husband makes a rare attempt to talk to you, and you already know what he wants. After tiptoeing around you for several hours, he asks you for sex. You join him in the dark bedroom, feeling nothing as you slip out of your clothes and climb into bed with him.

You have learned to close your eyes during sex and let your mind wander, imagining all kinds of fictional scenarios to help you feel anything at all. But this time, you don't think of a fictional love interest out of a romance novel or an actor you find attractive. This time, you think of Sukuna.

You feel dirty afterward as you stand under the shower and scrub at your skin. Dirty for thinking of Sukuna while you slept with your husband. But what makes you feel even dirtier is that you still let your cheating husband touch you even though Sukuna is so nice to you. It feels as if you are cheating on both of them.

You cry so much that you feel like you have no tears left.

+++

Even though you haven't met or talked to Sukuna in over a week, he is still constantly on your mind. You are haunted by images of him. That beautiful tattooed face. That sexy low voice and the playful smirk. That tall and muscular body that makes you feel so tiny in comparison and so safe when you are standing in front of him or leaning against him.

You sigh. One would assume that acknowledging that you are developing romantic feelings for Sukuna would make things easier for you. Clearer. But the thing is, even though you know what your heart wants, you are still too scared to end things with your husband. There are too many insecurities. Too many risks and you feel so useless and weak, just like your parents always told you you are.

You feel frozen, unable to make a move. There is this wonderful man who treats you as if you are special and shows you how a man is supposed to make you feel, and yet you lack the courage to get out of your loveless marriage.

You have always been an overthinker, always scared to trust your instincts. Brought up to always be sensible and make decisions with your head and not your heart. So how could you just leave the security of this marriage? Especially when you are trying to convince yourself that Sukuna would never want a relationship anyway.

No, you can't let yourself believe that you could have a future with Sukuna. This is just a stupid dream born out of your naivety, which your parents always warned you about.

And how could you even go about ending things with your husband? Sit him down and tell him it's over? But what then? What do you do when he just refuses to accept it?

Or should you just pack your bag and leave while he is at work, letting him return to an empty apartment and a goodbye letter on the kitchen table? But where would you go? To a hotel? You have no money. To your parents? You would feel so ashamed, and you fear their judgment. To a friend? You don't really have any friends anymore who you are close enough with to ask this of.

You sigh. None of it seems achievable. Not for you. You are too chicken to do any of it.

Your husband informs you that he will be gone for two days for a business trip, and you let out a breath of relief, happy about the freedom you feel when he is away and you have the apartment to yourself.

You open a bottle of wine, listen to your favorite playlist, and dance around the kitchen, almost able to convince yourself that things will be ok and you can just live a life feeling detached from the hurt your marriage causes you.

And then your iPad dies. You groan, quickly walking to the spare room you use as an office to grab your husband's laptop, only to get greeted by his e-mail inbox, where you see a booking confirmation for a romantic couple getaway for the next two days.

You stare at it wide-eyed. And then you sit down in a daze and go through the received and sent e-mails, only discovering more outrageous things. The escort girls your husband booked over the last year, the flowers he ordered for other women, while you never got any flowers from him in all your years married to him. The romantic getaways he booked anytime he claimed to go on business trips.

You can't even cry about it anymore. The sadness is replaced by cold rage. And by a strange feeling of resignation. You know you could show all of this to your mom and finally make her believe what you told her all this time. Finally, presenting her and everyone else with proof of how badly your husband treats you.

But even as you snap pictures of the e-mails, you realize you can't bring yourself to do it. And the infuriating thing about it is that it's not even because it causes you hurt, but because you still want to protect your husband. If you show your mom this, she will confront him and make a huge scene. And you don't want that to happen. Even after everything he did, you still are too much of a good girl to let him face the rage of your mom.

That's why you close the laptop again without doing anything. You make sure to put it back to where you found it.

But a different kind of conviction has settled over you. If your asshole of a husband can go on romantic getaways and sex meetings, you can allow yourself some fun, too, can't you?

It's not even that you plan to have sex when you text Sukuna. You just want to meet him for dinner or another trip to the museum. You just want to talk to him, and laugh with him and soak up the light feeling he gives you.

He calls you instead of texting back. Your heart races when you take the call, and Sukuna's velvety low voice fills your ear,

"I just came home from a big grocery haul. So how about instead of meeting at a restaurant, you come to my apartment, and I cook for you?"

You agree instantly.

+++

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna lives in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of the city. The luxurious apartment complex makes you feel nervous and a bit out of place. But that uneasiness slips from you the moment Sukuna opens his door and greets you with that sexy, teasing smirk and a playful little comment.

It's the first time you see Sukuna dressed casually. And it undeniably does something to you to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a rather snug-fitting white t-shirt that clings to his buff pecs and gives you a nice view of his muscular arms and more of his tattoos. You aren't sure what is more mouth-watering, the food that is simmering in one of the pots on Sukuna's stove or his big biceps that flex deliciously with every move.

Sukuna lifts you onto the kitchen counter, easily picking you up and setting you down as if you weigh nothing. A fact that makes you all flustered and sends your pulse racing, making you gratefully grab the wine glass Sukuna is offering you, so you can hide your face behind it and let the alcohol calm your nerves.

No man has ever cooked for you before, and watching Sukuna do it is one of the most attractive things you have ever witnessed. He is so sexy. Passionate and skilled, and still always taking time to playfully flirt with you or ask you to try one of his dishes, feeding you food from a spoon or from his fingers.

There is a special kind of electricity between you tonight. An almost touchable tension that makes your skin tingle anytime Sukuna brushes up against you.

His voice is husky when he tells you what ingredients he uses to marinate the roasted vegetables. And you can't help but let your tongue flick over his fingers when he pushes a slice of roasted zucchini against your lips.

Sukuna groans softly. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look up at his tattooed face. You are met by a hungry glint in those beautiful maroon eyes that remind you of the wine Sukuna poured for you.

You are caught in Sukuna's intense gaze, unable to look away. Everything else seems to fade away.

And the next thing you know is that Sukuna is kissing you. Or maybe you were the one who pressed her lips against his first. You don't know. All you know is that you are kissing right here in Sukuna's kitchen while you sit on the kitchen counter, and he is standing between your legs. His large hands are cupping your cheeks and tilting your head back, and your hands are twisting in the front of his soft white t-shirt, pulling him closer to you as you sigh needily into his mouth.

Sukuna kisses you like you have never been kissed before. Passionate, fiery. Deep and sensual, making your head spin and your pulse flutter under Sukuna's hands.

You can't get enough of him and wrap your arms and legs around him as if you are scared he will vanish into thin air if you let go of him. You kiss him with a hunger unknown to you until now. Like a starving person being presented with a life-saving meal.

Sukuna's large hands trail down your sides, fingertips grazing over the sides of your breasts, eliciting a needy little whine from you, and further down until they reach your thighs. You are drunk on his kiss, drunk on him, melting under every little touch.

And Sukuna hums in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss even more. His large hands slip under you, cupping your ass, kneading it while he makes you moan around his tongue.

You have always been shy, but there is something about Sukuna and the way he makes you feel that makes you slip a hand under his t-shirt, feeling him up, greedily caressing his flexing abs, feeling dizzy at how good his firm muscles feel under your fingertips.

You both can't seem to stop kissing, both tumbling down further and further into this heated desire. You are faintly aware of Sukuna mumbling against your lips that the sauce needs to simmer for another hour anyway, and then he picks you up and lifts you easily off the kitchen counter while his lips claim yours again.

Sukuna carries you to his bedroom while never breaking the kiss, and you suck on his bottom lip and run your greedy hands through his soft pink hair and down his bulging biceps, wanting him so much that you think you will die if you don't get all of him tonight.

You sleep with Sukuna on his fancy bed, and it's nothing like it was with your husband. It's like you finally learn how sex is supposed to feel with a man who truly wants you.

Sukuna makes you feel wanted and desired, a feeling that is so new to you after all these years caught in a loveless marriage where your husband made you feel undesirable, unattractive, and like you would never be able to find anyone else with how your body looks and how lousy you are in bed.

But with Sukuna, it is completely different. You feel sexy here in his bed with the way he looks at you when he undresses you. And with the way he moans sweet praise in your ear before his lips and hands worship your body.

Sukuna is a real man. Experienced and confident, but so loving and patient with you when you get shy and tell him that you aren't very experienced and that your husband was disappointed in your skills in the bedroom.

At one point, you tense up, thinking Sukuna will get angry like your husband when you are clumsy during sex. But the opposite is the case. Sukuna is calm and gentle, talking to you in that sexy low voice, all soothing and sexy, telling you that it's ok and that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed.

He kisses you until your head spins and then asks you why you got so tense, asks you what you need. And you almost break out in tears, hugging him tightly, hiding your face in his defined pecs, inhaling his scent, and feeling so loved and so safe in his strong arms like never before.

"I just... I have only been with my husband, and he told me I am not good in bed. He always got mad at me when I didn't know how something worked. I am sorry if I am not what you are used to."

And you feel Sukuna's arms tightening around you, feel him tense up. But he isn't angry with you, only with your husband.

"That man is such a fool. Look at me, darling."

You lift your head off his chest and look at his tattooed face when he looks at you all earnestly,

"You are a beautiful woman, sexy and desirable, and I want to fuck you so good you forget your own name. Because that's what you deserve. And you don't have to be experienced or fuck like a pornstar. You are perfect the way you are, and you drive me crazy. And if you don't know how something works and you want to learn it, then I will teach you, and I promise I will be patient and gentle."

You nod wildly, feeling too emotional to speak, and instead press your body against Sukuna's and capture his lips in another needy kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips when he wraps his large hands around your waist and takes control.

Everything is so easy after that. No words are needed. Just hands and lips exploring each other's skin in heated caresses and bodies entangled in feverish passion. You let yourself fall, give yourself fully into Sukuna's loving hands. Let him take care of you like no one has ever done before.

He fucks you so good you cry.

All the years of feeling undesirable and not enough slip off you now that you are in Sukuna's bed under his gorgeous, tall, and heavy body, your nails leaving scratches on his broad back, hot tears of bliss streaming down your cheeks, and his name falling sweetly from your lips over and over again like a prayer.

It's like you are finally alive, like you are a flower that finally blooms after all these years.

+++

That first night in Sukuna's bed changed you profoundly.

You catch yourself smiling all day. There's a new bounce in your steps. You feel so much lighter. Your stomach is filled with butterflies as if you are a teenager again who has her first crush. Your chest feels so warm. You're filled with new hope. Maybe there is more to life and love than you thought, after all.

You feel like, for the first time, someone has really seen you. You weren't aware that sex like this existed in real life. That a man could make you fall apart like that. Sukuna fucked you in a way that was life-changing, making you feel like you gave him not just your body but also your soul.

And as passionate and nasty as the sex with Sukuna was, he made you feel respected the whole time. Adored. That is what makes you lose your mind anytime you think of it. You have been with your husband for so long, and yet even in the beginning, when the feelings were still fresh, he never made you feel adored or loved in bed. You didn't even know it until now, but he only ever made you feel used.

When your husband asks you for sex, you turn him down his time, telling him you aren't in the mood, and you don't even feel guilty for it.

You keep running back into Sukuna's strong arms over and over again. Into his bed, under his heavy body, where you feel loved and wanted. It's like he opened your eyes, and now you can see all those new colors that you only seem to be able to see with him.

+++

Your clandestine meetings continue for weeks. It surprises you to see winter turn into spring, and yet Sukuna is still texting you, inviting you to more dinner dates and to more intimate meetings in his bedroom. You always assumed he would end your little affair before things became too serious.

But somehow, he is still in your life, reserving his Wednesday evenings for you, buying you roses, and taking you to the best restaurants in the city.

One night, you sit up in his bed on the ruffled silk sheets and bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over Sukuna's naked body. His tattooed skin, his buff muscles, his beautiful silhouette. And you blurt out,

"Why do you keep seeing me?"

It's what you have been asking yourself from the start. What does Sukuna see in you? You are mediocre in every way. Average looks, no real talents, and no impressive career. A wife who got neglected by her husband because she wasn't good enough in his eyes. A woman in her thirties, who was replaced by a younger, more attractive version.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is gorgeous, powerful and rich, and his age only makes him more attractive. He could have anyone.

Sukuna hums softly and turns onto his side, lifting his head to watch you with curious maroon eyes.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You avert your gaze, sighing, bringing up your hands in a helpless little gesture,

"I... I mean, you are you, and I am me. And I just don't understand what you see in me."

Now, the noise Sukuna makes sounds a bit like a growl. You feel stupid for saying anything, already about to scramble out of his bed and flee before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. But you don't make it out of bed. Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you and stop you. He pulls you back into his arms and against his solid, broad chest.

"Don't belittle yourself like that. I keep asking to see you because I want to. Because I like spending time with you. You are so sweet. You make me feel so warm when I have always felt so cold."

His words hit you like a truck. You blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against Sukuna's chest.

"R... really?"

He huffs softly, letting out a low chuckle as his large hand pets your hair,

"Yes, really. I used to only have one-night stands or casual flings. Just sex and nothing more. I used to think that was all I needed. But you showed me something different. Hell, I've never spent so much time with a woman before I slept with her for the first time. And I enjoyed every second of it! I like spending time with you to talk and laugh with you and just have this companionship. You make me feel like maybe I am not that cold-hearted asshole I always thought I was."

You gulp hard, tears filling your eyes. But this time, happy ones. You sniffle against Sukuna's naked chest and press a tender kiss to his tattooed skin.

"You are so sweet, Sukuna."

He laughs softly, and you can feel it against your cheek, a low rumble, where your face is resting on his chest,

"You are the first one who told me I am sweet. Are you sure?"

Now, you laugh softly, too. The insecurity you felt a moment ago forgotten,

"Yes, 100% sure. No one has ever treated me as sweet as you."

"It's what you deserve. You are so sweet that I want to be sweet for you, too. And..."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around your hips, and he flips you over. He rolls on top of you, covering you whole with his tall, broad body. His lips find your neck, trailing little kisses over it, his low voice a seductive murmur in your ear,

"You're not just sweet, but also beautiful and sexy, and you make me laugh, and I want to take you places and cook for you and also want to keep you on my cock all night and feel you squeeze around me and hear you cry my name."

Sukuna grinds his hips against you, pushing you into the mattress, taking you with one powerful, deep thrust for the second time tonight. You gasp and cling to his broad shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips, welcoming him, craving him, needing him.

He takes it slow. Slow, deep thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his low voice moaning sweet nothings in between deep, sensual kisses.

It's then that you realize that Sukuna is doing what no one else ever did to you. Sukuna is making love to you.

And you cry hot tears, drowning in his love and his body and everything he gives you. Your nails leave scratches on his broad back, your heels dig into his firm ass, as you throw your head back and cry out his name in the sweetest ecstasy.

He holds you afterward, lies behind you, and wraps his tall, strong body around you. He hugs you with his strong arms and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing kisses onto your skin, not letting go of you, taking care of you, cuddling you. Something you also never had before. A man who is willingly holding you like that for hours after he came in you.

You sigh happily, still in a daze. The occasional tear still runs down your cheek as you snuggle against Sukuna's muscular body, and your hands caress his tattooed forearms tenderly. You never want to leave his arms again. You want to stay right here.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna's low voice murmurs against your skin again,

"I mean it, darling. I like having you in my life. So much that I want you in it all the time."

One of his large hands caresses your belly, so tender, so loving, sending butterflies fluttering in it like crazy. And Sukuna breathes in your ear,

"Be mine."

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around in Sukuna's arms, cupping his face with your hands as you kiss him, long and sweet, and in between kisses, you murmur against his lips,

"I am already yours."

You know it is the truth. Even though you are still married to another man, even though you are still living with your husband, you are Sukuna's woman now. You suspect you have been Sukuna's woman for several months already, long before you allowed yourself to admit it out loud.

+++

Two hours later, you are buttoning up your coat, about to leave Sukuna's apartment and the sweet bliss of his arms and return to your cold, loveless marriage, and your lonely apartment, when Sukuna stops in front of you. He reaches out, wordlessly helping you with the buttons, dominant in such a caring way, and somehow, that small loving gesture makes your lips tremble as you are overcome by emotions.

He is so good to you. Such a giant of a man, so tall and broad and powerful. And yet, he treats you so gently. Large hands buttoning up your coat for you. The hands that also cook Michelin-star-worthy meals for you, or wash your hair in his luxurious bathtub. The hands that make you see stars when they finger you oh so good. The hands that caress your cheek tenderly and brush your tears away with so much care. Hands that give to you over and over again. A hundred little acts of service that this powerful man gives to you.

"Sukuna, I..."

You trail off, not able to put into words what you want to say to him. How much he means to you. How much you want him. How he made you believe in love again. How much you crave to leave your old life behind and start over new with Sukuna even though you are so scared of change.

Before you can say any of it, Sukuna grabs your wrists, takes them firmly but gently into his larger hands, and looks at you intensely.

"Leave that asshole. He doesn't deserve you, princess. If a man can't see what he has in you, then he is trash. Don't be scared. I can take much better care of you than him. I'll fuck you good and make you only cry happy tears. I will appreciate you like you deserve. I will love you like you deserve. I will ensure you always have everything you need. I have money, and I can protect you. Tell me, darling, who would you feel safer with waking through the city in the middle of the night? That joke of a man or me?"

Of course, you know the answer.

"I love you, Sukuna."

"I love you, too."

His strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug, and you nuzzle your face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. And finally, here in the safety of Sukuna's embrace, you say those words you have been too scared to say until now,

"I will leave him. I want to be with you. Only with you, Kuna."

You can hear the smile in Sukuna's voice when he replies,

"I'll help you, sweetheart. I have one of the best lawyers in the whole country. I'll call him tomorrow to prepare the divorce papers. I'll take care of everything for you."

Sukuna cups the back of your head and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, reassuringly. He looks at you with that boyish grin you fell in love with and adds in a playful and husky voice,

"And once all of this is dealt with, I will make you my wife."

He takes your left hand into his, turning it around, inspecting the wedding ring you are still wearing, scrunching his nose at it,

"And I'll give you a much prettier ring."

+++

You let the door fall softly shut behind you one last time as you walk out of the apartment you had been sharing with your husband for over a decade. A smile lifts your lips. You are glad to close this chapter of your life.

You know that a braver woman would have left her husband sooner, would have moved out, or kicked him out the moment she found out he was cheating on her. Maybe even sooner, when she realized she was unhappy in that marriage. But you aren't brave. You have always been full of self-doubts and fears. Too ashamed to crawl back to your parents and admit that you hadn't been strong enough to endure your marriage. Too scared that you would never recover from the financial loss of the divorce. Too insecure to believe you could ever make it on your own.

But now you have Sukuna. And the fall doesn't seem so high anymore. You know Sukuna will catch you in his strong arms. He won't let you crash to the ground.

In the end, you think it doesn't matter how you got out of that unhappy marriage and into this loving relationship. All that matters is that you got a second chance to learn how love is supposed to be.

And it still takes bravery to leave your husband and walk into Sukuna's arms. To close the door of your marriage and open the one that leads to the man who came into your life as an illicit affair but has become your one and only.

OH SUKUNA, I NEED YOU 😭😭💗💗 He really took one look at Reader having her breakdown in that restaurant and was like, "I will steal that woman from that loser and give her what she deserves." Thank you, Kuna baby ;)

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing! This story became much longer than I thought, but the words wouldn't stop flowing out of me because this story made me so happy. I hope it could give some of you the same feeling.

I often see posts/articles that victim-blame the women who don't have the courage to leave an unhappy marriage, so I wanted to write something where Reader isn't a strong, independent woman but someone who needs a little encouragement and lots of love from a man like Kuna before she dares make the decision to leave her husband. She deserves all the happiness!

I hope you enjoyed the story and maybe fell a little in love with this version of Sukuna, too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

if they put me in a big pot of soup i would be fine.

'just a reminder to reblog posts! tumblr isnt like other sites where likes boost visibility' i don't care if your post gets visibility or not. hope this helps. if you want me to reblog it try posting better.

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

Hey. Minors following me. Internet safety is key!! NEVER include these in your bio/byf:

Medical diagnoses - this is nobody's business but yours. You don't owe anyone an explanation for why you are the way that you are

Trauma - same reason as above

Triggers - people can use these against you! Don't give people tools to hurt you. No one has to know what tags you block. Just block tags to stay safe!

Age - age is okay for adults to include but is iffy when you're a teen. Predators want this information, don't give people more than they need. Just state that you're a minor, that's all that anyone needs to know.

In general: stay safe. If you're not comfortable with every stranger out there having access to this information, you shouldn't post it on the internet.

Play devil's advocate and ask yourself about what would happen if someone searched for your information with intent to hurt you. You do NOT owe anyone an explanation!

“Hamas shouldn’t have attacked”

🙃

The Israeli genocide of Palestinians has been ongoing for 70 years.

word count: 8.3K

paring: Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): oral(f! receiving), dirty talk, tit worship, slow soft sex that turns to rough sex, breeding, creampie. I think that's it, sex after a confession always leads to good fluffy sexy stuff.

authors note: well, this took longer than I was hoping for so I do hope it was worth the wait! I don't typically write Bakugou as I am never confident I can do him justice, but I do know how much everyone loves him (and I too find the dork just a lot of fun) - so to my Bakugou stans I hope I did good enough and I hope you all enjoy a surprisingly long fic of our favorite gremlin~🔮

You had meant to move about a month ago; you had gone through the whole process of finding the right apartment that fits your budget, was in a decent neighborhood, and was close enough to both yours and your friend's place of work. All that effort, months of it, was supposed to accumulate into one big celebratory day where you both moved all your things into your new home.

However, your family had other ideas. And thus, you were a helpless passenger flying between family members as they took their sweet time to say goodbye to you; unable to stop them from milking the melodramatics of your moving to a city so far away for who knows how long.

And your poor friend, who technically now was your roommate, had to move all her things by herself. To settle into a new place, routine, and life in a city also foreign to her, on her own. It was not the plan, but then again when did anything go according to plan for the pair of you? Despite her reassurance otherwise, you still felt awful about your false start.

But it wasn’t all bad. Your family gave you plenty of gifts to help kickstart your new adventure, items that would be more than helpful for living on your own and away from family and their abundance of resources. And your friend became quite friendly with the new neighbor.

Their meet-cute was something you missed while you were away visiting family. How he seemed to come to her rescue while she was struggling to get all her boxes up the four flights of stairs to the apartment - and of course, there was no elevator in the old building - how polite he was, how adamant that he help her out, how strong he was. All of it was something she gushed about to you on the phone that night, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with her.

Of course, it didn’t stop there. It seemed every day that led up to you finally moving into that place with your friend, she was on the phone with you talking about another encounter she had with the new neighbor. How he helped her bring her groceries up, helped her with building some of the new furniture sets you both bought, how he would come by to ensure she was okay - everything and anything. You knew basically all there was to know about the man before your friend even let you know his name.

Though you could understand why.

Kirishima Eijirou was a pro-hero after all, and despite being the friendliest one out there, he did want to uphold a semblance of privacy. It was only a few days before you moved in that you both found out his name and occupation; it was a bit of a surprise, but neither you or your roommate would blab about him to the media. After all, you were neighbors. If his privacy was to be infringed upon, yours would be too.

Besides, you didn't want to ruin the budding relationship that was forming between the two of them. If the media got involved, it would be ruined before it started.  So, you had no problem keeping your lips sealed tightly about it all.

You finally did meet Kirishima when you stumbled up the seemingly endless flights of stairs with your roommate, with the many boxes of your stuff. And you had to admit he was one of the sweetest, most infectiously friendly, men you had ever met in your life - and unlike your roommate, you took full advantage of the help he offered.

From there you got to enjoy the new bliss that was this adventure. Setting up your bedroom; adding decorations to the shared spaces; going grocery shopping for the foods you liked; and the overall fun you found, being in each other's company. This new routine was built of comfort, not the chaos you were previously used to; one you were happy to come home to. Though, that being said, you could never really find time to go out or socialize with your friend - at least not one-on-one anymore.

Kirishima was usually always there, greeting you with that same cheery smile whenever you emerged from your room in the morning to start your day. Whenever you came home from an errand or work, there he was on your couch cuddled up with your roommate. When you answered the door, there he was, greeting you with the same amiable demeanor.  You always returned the smile, always gave happy greetings back - again he was a nice guy - but after a few weeks of seeing him constantly, of becoming the (unwilling) third wheel to this honied new romance with your friend, it started to wear thin.

Bakugou could say the same.

All Kirishima could talk about was his new girlfriend. Bakugou couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he heard of their ‘chance encounter’ as if chance had anything to do with it - they lived next door. Their meeting each other was bound to happen, one way or another. And he couldn’t even begin to count the number of times the plans he made with his best friend were called off last minute for this girl.

It’s not like he wasn’t happy for Kirishima. He was glad to hear that after the hustle and grind that comes from their line of work, his best friend had finally started to date again. The pain caused by lack of privacy, and by lack of time to spend on romance or new relationships, in general, was no small thing. Bakugou knew that pain better than anyone… but this borderline obsessive, lurid behaviour Kirishima had towards his newfound relationship was starting to rub him the wrong way - the puppy love of it all made Bakugou want to gag.

And his best friend's new girlfriend had the worst roommate - bar none.

Bakugou could recall the awful encounter vividly. It was a Friday afternoon. He was on his way to start his evening patrol, walking over to Kirishima’s place as the redhead was to join him. But of course, Kirishima was not there, or at least he was not answering the door. After minutes of pounding and yelling, Bakugou figured the bastard was where he always was, at his girlfriend’s place. Stomping his way over, he barely had a chance to properly knock on the door before you swung it open - the look of utter annoyance and anger in your eyes as you looked up at him was something he would never forget.

“He’s not here.” That was all you said before slamming the door in his face.

Bakugou was never before left so stunned or speechless, at least not by an every day, quirkless, person, and he didn’t like it if the intentional stomping of his heavy boots and the huffing chest was anything to go by. Both Kirishima and his girlfriend got an earful about it when he finally managed to find them.

And to make matters worse, the next time he was to hang out at Kirishima’s place - to relax and unwind with a boy's night out - you were there. What was supposed to be a night getting drinks and letting go of all the stresses of their job turned into a movie night in - as that is what his girlfriend and you had planned, and Kirishima, unsurprisingly, wanted to join - forgoing the original plan, as if it was nothing. Bakugou visibly fumed in the doorway as he debated whether or not to join - with Kirishima convincing him of the latter.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from you, as the large single-use chair he wanted to sit in was occupied by Kirishima and his girlfriend. Bakugou truly wondered if he could resent his friend more than he did at that moment as he stared blankly at the screen before him - not bothering to even pay attention to the movie he was so rudely coerced into seeing. 

As the night neared its end, though, so did the height of that resentment. He watched from the corner of his eye as you scooted yourself a little closer to him; eyes shy and unsure as you gazed at his profile - Bakugou couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow in interest, eyes shifting to you and making you pause your movements.

“I want to apologize for the other day…” your tone was begrudging, he remembered that, as you began to explain your horrible behaviour when you both first met. How you had the worst headache and couldn’t get out of work, and the noise he was making caused you to snap. Bakugou simply shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgment after you were done, but that was all before his eyes moved back to the screen; yours followed suit after another beat with a nod of your head.

You thought maybe he had ignored your apology, given the dismissive way he regarded it, and you could not fault him for that. Nor could you fault his attitude towards you and the situation he was in that night, it was clear he had not wanted to waste his time watching a stupid movie a random stranger had picked out - you certainly didn’t want to if you had the choice. So, you simply chalked it up to him having a rough day and not wanting to deal with you and your silly excuses for your shitty behaviour.

But after that day, whenever he would be looking for Kirishima, you could barely hear his gently rapping at your door or the heavy boots as they walked across the hallway - a far cry from your first encounter.

In fact, most of your interactions with Bakugou were a light year from the initial two you had with him. You knew who he was, it was hard to ignore when his face was almost always plastered in the news or on screens in the city, and given what you could tell he was a bit brutish - standoffish and quick to anger - very much like how he was when you first had the pleasure of meeting him. It was supposedly a part of his charm, but you found nothing charming about it, that was until you extended that olive branch with your apology. The way he spoke to you after that, the softer tone - one that was almost hushed - always surprised you; it almost didn’t fit who he was but somehow you still liked it. You knew he did it because he was worried he might aggravate you, and your possible headache, further but it was the courteousness that made you start to warm up to him.

And Bakugou could say the same. He didn’t want to admit it, but you were fairly sweet - always apologizing when you would have to tell him his friend wasn’t there and giving him a fairly wise suggestion on where they might be; your tone and demeanor soft, always catching him off guard; as every time he knocked on your door he was expecting an incensed tone. And your eyes… Bakugou had always expected them to look cruel, to have the sharp hue they previously had when he first gazed into them. He was always surprised by how gentle they were, looking up at him. They continuously ambushed and captivated him, and he couldn’t stand it. He hated how pretty they were.

And it all just got worse from there.

At least that was how Bakugou saw it at first. He knew you probably did too, given the exhausted, almost fed-up expression you’d share with him whenever the pair of you crossed paths once more, in some shape or form, by the lovestruck pair. 

“I suppose misery loves company, and evidently, we seem to be her favourite kind.” you would murmur to him, in a mirthful tone, with a shrug of your shoulders before diverging paths in a fruitless, and endless, search to find - and subsequently, make sense of, - those lovesick two you call your closest friends. It wasn’t long before you found yourselves being dragged along on all the errands and lunches they had planned; being a forced pair to endure and join in on an afternoon or evening out for whatever they had planned.

“I don’t understand, why do they feel the need to invite us?” You would ask him, voice hushed as you both would walk a few steps behind them to avoid any ire from your complaining.

“As if I would know.” Bakugou scoffed, his ever-present scowl being turned in your direction “Not like I want to spend my free time here being a third party to their lovely bullshit.”

“Fourth party, I was here first” Your quick response would make his scowl soften, as you would smirk up at him; though it was only ever briefly as his gaze always made you shy “Maybe that’s why…”

“Why what?”

“Why they drag us along.” 

“Care to explain?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowing as he regarded your shrugging shoulders.

“You haven’t figured it out? And here I thought you were smart!” 

“You fucking brat.” Bakugou couldn’t help but playfully shove you away, a smile forming on his face as your soft giggles filled the air as you stumbled about to try and regain your footing “Come on, out with it.”

“I think the reason….” You began, trying to keep your voice down once more to avoid suspicion. “I think the reason they drag us along is that they feel bad. It sucks when you're alone around a couple, but it's more tolerable when there is someone else in the same shoes as you.”

“I mean, yeah sure… but why not just leave us alone? Why invite us in the first place?” he asked, eyes fixated on the couple ahead of him as they started to make their way into a popular café; the destination of this trip. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I guess, misery loves company. And we’re her favourite kind of company” Bakugou shrugged in a manner that was mimicking you.

“Oh, so you do listen to what I say!” You mocked, as you began to walk across the threshold of the café through the door Bakugou had opened “And here I thought nothing I said got through that thick skull of yours.”

Your giggles filled the air again as you felt his hand push at your shoulder causing your feet, and stride, to stumble as you tried once more to regain your balance - his herculean body shoving you away effectively stopping you from entering the café. The adrenaline rush of falling made your laughter even louder when you landed on the pavement; whether you were injured you couldn’t tell, you were too preoccupied at laughing at the man who had now closed to café door on you, watching through the glass as he muttered, with a smile, that you were a ‘fucking brat’.

~

Double dates, would be the most appropriate word for what followed, but you were always hushed and told differently when you would bring that word into play.

“I just want to see you get out of the house, to have some fun!” is what your roommate would defend with each time you griped and groaned at her for being forced into another ‘activity’

“You know, it would be nicer if it was just the two of us,” You’d shoot back, eyes glued to whatever task you were currently doing, knowing her puppy eyes were a weakness of yours. “Kirishima doesn’t always have to be there.”

“But he’s always so busy with his work!” She would pout, using that to her advantage as well, “It’s the only time I get with him! Please? You know how hard it is to find time with the both of you! Can’t you just come along, this will be the last time, I promise!”

She always said that. Always promised that this would be the last time you would be dragged along on another ‘outing’ that they had planned; last time she - they - would combine the need to hang out with a friend and go on a date. You would always sigh and agree to join, despite knowing the truth of the matter at hand, because…. well, she was right. Trying to find time to spare for both your social and romantic lives was difficult when you had to spend most of your time working so you could stay financially afloat.

Besides, you always had company. And Bakugou was slowly starting to prove to be your favourite kind of company.

He made being dragged along from event to event more tolerable. Whether that be having to help pick apples in a local orchard, or having to be a part of the standard photoshoot which followed, Bakugou made everything bearable. You couldn’t help but enjoy his snapbacks at Kirishima when being told to look or pose a certain way. His pained smile in every photo taken made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe.

Hiking and going to Farmer’s markets were tolerable too; you weren’t surprised that Bakugou was good at going uphill in uneven terrain; he was a prohero after all. But you were surprised, and grateful, at how good of a guide he was - always taking the lead so he could warn you of any possibilities to get hurt; lending a hand when needed without any sort of ire or condescension. And Sunday morning market runs turned into less of a chore when being guided to the best stalls, having someone hand pick the best items there, and having them use their fame to get you the best prices.

Traversing the many museums your roommate wanted to go to became quite the respite. Though you were perfectly fine splitting from the lovebirds and exploring on your own, it was nice to have a presence beside you; and you couldn’t deny how surprised you were whenever Bokugou would share with you a fact he knew about many of the exhibits you crossed.

And of course, traveling miles to see the country's largest aquarium was a real treat; one you suspected was a way for your roommate to apologize for always being dragged along to do the things she wanted to do. How you clung to her arm the whole time and dragged her (and the party) excitedly along to each giant tank to point out every marine animal that was housed there - rambling on and on about all you knew. And Bakugou, though he would tease that you were acting like a child, enjoyed seeing the way your face lit up again and again as you rambled on without a care; grateful you were never looking his direction, not knowing if he could live with the embarrassment of you seeing him look at you so softly.

Despite the forced proximity, you found a lot of enjoyment in spending your free time with that hotheaded man. And Bakugou could only agree that you made all these pointless so-called adventures convivial and worth giving interest to.

And those movie nights? The ones which were originally the bane of Bakugou’s existence? He found himself enjoying them the longer he stayed in your semi-forced company. He liked your commentary. He wanted to hear the little facts and details you’d point out as you mumbled into the popcorn you were trying to eat. He especially liked all the quick and smart jokes you would make on the more terrible movies that were chosen, knowing that his evening would actually be entertaining rather than tremendously painful to sit through. Over time, he longed to have you sit closer to him, to have you move from where you always sat at the other end of the plush couch to be right by his side. He yearned to feel your warmth against him, to hear what your whispers would sound like in his ear.

It was right where you belonged. That’s what he thought every time you would lean closer to him in some form or another; whether it was to move out of others' way, or to inform him of whatever thought crossed your mind. It’s where he wanted you to be.

Bakugou didn’t want to admit it, but he knew there was no way to deny it or try and convince himself otherwise, that he was starting to fall in love - or at least as close to love as he had ever experienced before - with you; that what started as him resentfully having to be around you morphed into something he was excited for; something he genuinely longed for.

But of course, his luck in romance was never as strong as it was everywhere else. And that unluckiness took, in this case, the form of his other prohero friends.

It was at the New Year's Party that they all held every year, a small get-together of close friends to celebrate another year together, and this year was Bakugou’s turn to host. And of course, Kirishima was going to bring his girlfriend; everyone was super excited after all to meet her. And Bakugou was hoping, though he would never admit it or ask, that you would be there too.

He couldn’t help the way his eyes lit up when you saw your figure enter his apartment, following behind the couple you came with; as you exclaimed a “Happy New Year!” towards him and the group your eyes were greeted with.

And he couldn’t help the way he bit his lip as his eyes raked over your figure. The outfit you were in, though it was cute - and in line with how you normally dressed - was a little more risque than normal; and he couldn’t help but wonder, all the blood in his body turning hot over the thought of, if you did it for him.

But things started to fall apart when Kaminari and Sero introduced themselves. You spent the whole night giggling and joking with them as if they were old friends. It was something that took Bakugou months to achieve, and yet, somehow, the pair managed to coax all of that out of you so easily. And your attitude, your presentation, was so unlike how you were with him. You were more demure than Bakugou had ever before witnessed. He’d never seen you act so shy, all bashful and blushing. It made his heart hurt and his blood to boil in anger as he watched it all, his whole night ruined by seemingly harmless interactions.

After that, both men started joining you whenever there was an outing - suddenly tables at restaurants were seating six instead of four. And his beloved movie nights, the one time and the chance he had you to himself - to be the only one so close to you -  were infiltrated with two extra bodies that sandwiched themselves between him and you.

He hated how endearing, and appealing, they were; and how it was working on you so effectively. Bakugou wasn’t a stranger to their lovable personalities - they were his closest friends for a reason. It was just, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to make you smile like that, to make and hear you giggle that obnoxious but cute giggle, to tuck your hair behind your ear and have you be unable to look him in the eye after, to have you fall asleep against him whenever the movie nights ran too long. All of it, he wanted to do all of it with you.

But he figured, maybe, he wasn’t the right man. 

Perhaps you were looking for someone more like Kaminari, who was spontaneous, adventurous, and fun-loving; who would take you on endless surprise dates, and have you guess on where it might be - always having it end up being the most fun you ever had. Someone to continuously, unabashedly fawn over you, and make you laugh at the dumbest things.

Or, maybe someone like Sero, who was so effortlessly charming no matter what he did. A partner who can make you both smile so brightly and have a blush burning your cheeks with one simple word. Someone who could make you feel like the most special person in the world with just a touch, who could pull you into a dance at just the right moment. 

Why would you ever want him? The loud, angry, brutish hero everyone saw him as?

Bakugou started to pull away. To slowly stop being a part of the so-called ‘outings’, or helping with errands, or coming by on movie nights. He began to focus all his attention back on his hero work like he did before he met you, to divert all of his time, energy, and focus back on his goal of becoming the best hero he could be, to attempt to erase you and the thoughts of domestic content out of his mind. To try and avoid you at all costs, to spare him the heartbreak you inadvertently caused whenever he looked at you. 

But he couldn’t avoid it forever - he knew that - the inevitability that he would need Kirishima, and subsequently have to go on a hunt to find him was always looming in the back of his mind; how it would ultimately lead to you. Bakugou knew the day would come, and it did, it just took longer than expected. He needed to ask Kirishima if he could cover a patrol shift for a hero who called in sick; and though Bakugou would take it in a heartbeat if he could, to avoid the possibility of you, he was off-field duty until he finished the mountains of paperwork from his last mission  - and he ran out of options.

He walked up to your door, that familiar off-white he had grown used to seeing, and made sure to rapt as gently as he could - like he always had - for your sake, as he waited for an answer; his breath caught in his throat, almost suffocating on the air from the awkward nerves that consumed him which came from showing his face after so long.

“Please don’t let her answer, please not her, please….” he pleaded like a mantra in his mind, but of course it was you, answering the door and greeting him with your usually soft surprise and beautiful eyes.

“Hi stranger, you just missed him.” You mumbled out, body leaning onto the open door you were half hiding behind “He left in a hurry, something about going on patrol to fill for another hero or…. Yeah”

There was a pause, and Bakugou knew you left it for him; knew that you wanted him to say something like a ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ or an acknowledgment of his lack of presence, lately. Instead, he began to turn away from you, unable to say anything, or be confronted any longer by your wide, sad eyes. 

“It’s been a while… “ You mumbled, starting the conversation again, not wanting him to leave, “You know… since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, been busy.” Bakugou shrugged, trying to play nonchalant, as he stepped away from your door.

“W-well-!” You blurted, your loud tone startling not only you but Bakugou, causing your head to bow sheepishly  “I-if you’re not busy or anything…. would you, um, like to come and join me for a movie?”

“A movie?” Bakugou asked, a smile briefly twitching on his lips over your behavior and invitation.

“Well, yeah. It’s Friday and normally everyone is either here or at Kiri’s for our usual movie night, but tonight it’s just me. And… and…. I-I’m really hoping you’ll join me…”

You were fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit you had when you were unsure of something, or wanted something you didn’t know if the other person would want too. And how was Bakugou supposed to say no to that?

“What movie?” He grumbled, trying his best not to be affected by the bright smile that overtook your face as he further pushed through your door to enter your apartment.

“I-I haven’t picked yet, don’t really know what kind of mood I’m in, ya know? You, um, can choose what you like!” The last bit of your sentence was harder to hear as you went into the kitchen to get some more snacks and another drink for your newfound company.

“Where is everyone?” Bakugou asked, plopping down on your couch, as he began to fuss with your remote, and its less-than-responsive connection to your TV, to boot up your streaming service.

“Well… my roomie is out of town to visit her family; it’s her mom’s birthday.” You gave a smile as you began to set the items in your down on your small coffee table.

“What about Sero and Kaminari?”

You paused your motions for a brief moment, not expecting them to be brought up before you shrugged “I’m not sure, I haven’t really seen them much lately either - probably scared them off, you know how I get some days.”

“You’re not that bad.” Bakugou scoffs, trying his best not to be affected by your mirthful smile “What kind of movie do you want? Good or bad?” 

“Uh… a bad one. It's been a tough week and I could use a laugh” You smiled before settling in on the couch beside him and handing him a drink; a bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap.

The silence settled over you both as the movie began to play; the sounds of its action and dialogue broken only by whenever you decided to share some of your commentary on the plot, and tell your jokes, varying degrees of laughs over it all. Before long, Bakugou couldn’t help but join in; as if the month spent apart never happened, and you both fell back into that blissful comfort you had built up, enjoyed, and so grieved in its absence. 

“I missed you.” You whispered out as the movie’s credits began to wash over the screen; it was so faint, yet Bakugou heard it like thunder in his ears, as his bewildered eyes fell on you.

“What?”

“I missed you. Things aren’t really the same, or as fun without you around…” You mumbled a little louder, unable to bring yourself to look at him during your confession; the silence returned, falling upon you, much like the night you first apologized to him - it crushed and consumed you as it did then, causing you to change the subject.

“You wanna watch another one?” You leaned forward to grab the remote, passing it over to him “Cause we can! You can put on one of your favourites, I know you’ve been trying to show some of them to me for a while.”

“Sure.” was all he could muster as he grabbed the control to play yet another movie. Trying his best to not be affected by the leaning of your body into his side once the opening scene began to play.

There was less talking this time, Bakugou knew it was because you were sheepish over your little confession, and his lack of response to it, and just wanted to hide. And he just didn’t know what to say, was never good at easing situations like these. Though after a while the silence became more palatable as you both gazed at the screen ahead. Though that tentative peace was disrupted when your arms snaked between his arm to encase it in a weird sort of hug.

“H-hey!” He didn’t mean to jump, or try and pull away at what you did, but he couldn’t help but be startled by it “What’s this all about, huh?”

“N-nothing, I’m sorry, I’ll just stop…” you began pulling away, and though you tried hard to mask it, the warble in your voice still came through.

“Don’t stop.” Bakugou spoke firmly, fully turning towards you and holding your shoulders to keep you in place so you could hide or run from him “Just tell me why you’re acting like this. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothings wrong!” You began, the tears in your eyes welling and blurring your vision “I just really really missed you, okay?”

“No, not okay! Why are you crying, I doubt you missed me so much over that.”

“I’m… I’m worried you don’t like me anymore… that I did something to make you hate me.”

“I’m not mad at you” Bakugou sighed, shoulders losing all tension as he gazes down at you “Or hate you. Just really busy with hero work right now.”

“That’s not true,” you sniffled, though the firmness in your voice and the stern look in your eyes as you gazed back at him, caused him to almost flinch “That’s not true, and you know it. Hero work didn’t make you suddenly get up and leave one day, didn’t make you just stop wanting to be around me, or talk to me. So, why did you?”

“Because… because… I… I just…” Bakugou began, trying to find the right words but unable to get his tongue to form any of them.

“Bakugou, please, just be honest with me!” You exclaimed, eyes pleading with him to just say anything, trying to push away from him in your anger, but to no avail; his grip on your shoulders just got stronger.

“I like you okay!” He finally managed to blurt out “But of course, you didn’t notice with stupid fucking Kanimari and Sero taking all of your goddamn time lately! And how they began hogging you, how was I supposed to react, huh? Was I supposed to be okay with them being so fucking friendly? To have them make you smile and laugh that stupid laugh yah have and make yah so fucking happy when that’s all I wanted to do! I like yah a lot, but I figured with all of this it meant you didn’t like me back, so I just fucking went away, okay?

“You’re such an idiot.” You whispered after an almost stunned pause, shaking your head as you gazed at him, watching as his chest rose and fell rapidly while he tried to regain his breath.

A giggle bubbled up your throat as you bit your lip to hide the smile crossing your face, eyes still glued to the clueless man in front of you; watching as his brows began to furrow even further in anger over your response. He never did get to voice a syllable of his anger before your lips pressed to his, your hands coming to cup the side of his face to pull him a little closer - a little deeper - into the kiss.

You pulled away far too quickly for Bakugou’s liking as his lips tried to follow yours; you giggled again at him, and he finally opened his eyes to look down at you, his smile mirroring your own when you whispered out “I like you too.”

This time, he kissed you, his smile could be felt against your lips at your confession; overjoyed that his feelings were actually reciprocated. It didn’t take long before the movie was forgotten over the mutual want, and need, to make up for the lost time. Bakugou quickly took control; tilting your head back, cradling your neck, and keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss - taking the lead and dominating it with a satisfied hum.

And how quickly those soft, sweet kisses, with little giggles and murmurs of sweet nothings in between when your lips parted, turned into something headier; heavier as the two of you grew louder. The smacking and sucking of lips as they continuously connected felt frantic as the minutes passed like nothing, saliva coating your chins as you both refused to part - to catch even one breath. Your hands wandered down his chest, pulling him by the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt to hover over you as you shifted to lay fully down on the soft cushions.

The change in position is what finally snapped Bakugou back into reality, out of his spell your soft lips had lured him into, as he finally pulled away from the kiss; tugging your hair gently to stop you from trying to chase after another as he did his best to dull the burning ache in his lungs.

You weren’t making it easy for him though, arching your back to snuggly press your chest to his as you stared up at him with those lust-filled eyes, making his body grow hot and pants tighten as you begged him to “Please don’t stop.”

“You sure you wanna do that, beautiful?” He masked his shaky, broken, breath with a hum and he nudged his nose with yours. “Think you’re ready for all that?”

“Of course, I am.” Your bottom lip sticking out in a pout “More than ready! Please, Katsu?”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that?” Bakugou sighs out, lips attacking yours once more as his hands move to hike up your legs so his knee can slide, and rest, between them.

The resulting gasp that leaves your lips when you feel his knee press up against your cunt is met with a chuckle as he begins to travel his hot kisses across your cheeks and down your neck; tongue lavishing the smooth skin he finds there, marring it with small nips and sucks as he calloused hands wandered underneath your sweater; your skin jumping at the newfound friction as he slowly began dragging the fabric upwards and off your body.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps when it met the cold air, though you really couldn’t mind when he followed suit, his gloriously chiseled chest - one you knew took years to build - was before your eyes and at your fingertips. Bakugou allowed you a moment to drink it all in, to get your fill, before nudging your curious hands away in favour of resuming the task at hand.

His lips trailed over your newly exposed, supple flesh, down the valley between your breasts, and inhaling the scent of your skin and his rough palms began to roll and squeeze at your mounds through the soft cotton bra you decorated them in.

It all felt so heavenly, and though your heart swelled at the fact, and thought, that he was willing to go slow for your sake, it just wasn’t enough for you, if the small whimpers and wiggling of your hips were any indication. You needed, craved, more of his touch.

“Katsu, please!” You finally whined, body too hot to lay comfortably still or endure this slow torment anymore. “Stop going so slow, I need more!”

Your complaint ended with a strangled cry as you felt his teeth sink harshly into your hardened nipple, the fabric doing nothing to dull the ache.

“Stop whining…” He grumbled out, voice low as his teeth tug once more at the abused bud, before letting it go “Been waiting a long time for this, and I’m gonna do it right, ya hear? So just lay back and let me do what I want.”

You merely let out a whimper and nod in response, his chuckle and mummer of ‘good girl’ going straight to your core and he continued his adoration of your chest; the latches of your bra finally slacking as he removed the only barrier between your sensitive skin and his warm breath. His lavishing turned more aggressive as he began to nibble, kiss, nip, and tug at the supple flesh - leaving his marks wherever he saw fit - with your moans and mewls spurring him on further.

“What did I say?” Bakugou growled, hands shoving your wiggling hips back down onto the couch.

“I can’t help it!” You sob, hands coming up to tug at his hair in frustration “Just wanna feel more of you, wanna feel you inside, please!”

“God, baby,” He groaned, head ducking down against your chest to try and regain the resolve he just lost; shaking his head after a moment, shushing you with a kiss before you could whine once more,  “Not yet… but promise I’ll make you feel good, give you want you want, okay?” 

Without another word, Bakugou swiftly pulled both your sweats and panties down your leg; baring your bottom half to him and the heady air of the room you were in, kissing one of your calves while settling your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. His thumb began tracing up and down your wet folds as he marveled at the sight.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby…” He whispered out, his other thumb joining to spread you open further, enjoying the way your thighs jumped as his hair tickled them as he leaned in close for a better look “So, so, pretty.”

He wasted no further time before confidently swiping his tongue up and down your glistening cunt; relishing in the broken moan you let out when his tongue began circling your clit; all restraint leaving him when your hands tugged at his hair as his lips finally wrapped around your little button, sucking mercilessly.

He was utterly filthy with the way he ravished your cunt, the amount of spit he gathered between his mouth and your pussy as he abused your poor clit with onslaughts of tongue flicking, was obscene as his slurping could be heard over everything else in the room as he tried to taste more of your sweet juices. He watched your pretty head thrash from side to side, and listened to you wail as he dragged his tongue up your fluttering hole, just to shove himself deep inside you.

You were losing your mind to the pleasure, your hips unable to stay still as your moans and cries of pleasure were released unabashedly like a mantra to the gods above; nails digging harshly into the pillows nearby and your lover's scalp as you tried desperately to ground yourself, to little avail, as you begged and whined for him to let you cum.

Your sounds were beautiful, and Bakugou couldn’t deny, they were certainly doing something to his ego, but they were also going straight to his cock, twitching and aching for you, uncontrollably. And if he wanted to avoid a noise complaint, and not cum in his pants like a teenager, he had to do something.

“Stop squirming!” Bakugou groaned, pinning your hips once again within his iron grip “Told you to stop it, you brat”

“M’sorry,” you hiccuped, thighs twitching and squirming over the need to gain some of the lost stimulation “I’m… M’just close, wanna cum.”

“You will, baby,” Bakugou hummed, arm stretching across your body to have his fingers tap at your lip “Open wide, and suck on these like a good girl, okay?”

You do so without a word. Lips part to accept two of his thick digits into your waiting mouth; tongue swirling almost instantly as you hollow your cheeks, he could feel the gentle vibrations of your moans when the pads of his fingers pressed down on your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Bakugou groaned, the sight alone almost made him come undone, as he leaned back down to continue what you so rudely interrupted.

You did as you were told, sucking so diligently on Bakugou's fingers as he continued to push you over the edge; moaning, though muffled, was constant as you tried to maintain a rhythm. - afraid that he might stop again.

Not that Bakugou would. You were driving him wild, and now he wanted nothing more than to make you cum; first on his face, and then on his cock. Talking between breaths about how pretty your pussy is, how good you were, how he’s gonna stretch you open, all while fucking you with his tongue; his sucking and slurping filling the air in between his words. All this while trying to keep his composure from the sight of your debauched face messily sucking his fingers to keep quiet; feeling your drool run down his wrist. 

It didn’t take long. Bakugou’s words, sinful tongue, and moans against your cunt made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, causing you to let out a strangled cry as your toes curled and thighs twitched - doing their best to crush his head as he continued to slurp and suck your cunt; cleaning you up; hands pinching and squeezing at your hips to try to soothe your shaking body.

“You think you’re ready for more, babygirl?” Bakugou asked voice strained as his hands began frantically fumbling with his belt “Ready for me, baby?”

“Y-yes… ah-!” Your cry ended with a small whimper as you felt Bakugou slap the tip of his cock against your puffy clit

“You sure?” He teased, tone mocking your own as he slots his heavy cock between your folds; chuckling at the way your twitching little hole tries to suck him in “Want me to fuck you?”.

“Yes, please! I want you so bad, only want your cock, want it to fill me up, want it so bad, please!” 

“So fucking needy…” Bakugou cursed, slowly pushing his thick cock head into you, gritting his teeth at just how tight you were for him “But so fucking good.”

His hips meet yours with a snap, causing you to cry out as tears cling to your lashes; not used to the feeling of being so full. His hand, still wet with your drool, pinches your cheeks together slightly to force you to look back at him.

“Eyes on me, got it?” He commands, though gentle in tone, waiting for you to nod your head before pulling out to thrust into you again.

His pace is deliberate, thrusting into you slowly, deeply, hitting every spot that makes you see stars; your mind still a little hazy, and body still too sensitive from the most recent orgasm, as your muscles jump and twitch at every drag of his heavy cock as you cling to him. Moaning his name as your nails dig into his back, watery eyes doing their best to stay on him as your face heats in embarrassment and blood rushes to your ears; barely able to hear the groans that pass his bitten red lips.

Bakugou was relishing, savoring, the feeling of your walls clamping down on him, milking him as he watched those tears threaten to fall from your beautiful eyes as you gaze up at him; your hot breath mingling with his own as your lips brushed his with every heavy thrust in, tempting him to lean down to connect them fully.

As heavenly as it was; you need more, more, more.

“Katsuki, more please!” You sighed, pulling him into a brief kiss to entice him further. When your request was met without change; his pace still agonizingly slow, your lips formed that familiar pout. “Come on Katsu, faster! You said you would fuck me!”

“You want me to fuck you, hah?” Bakugou growled, sitting up to push your legs into your chest, not bothering to care that his nails were digging into your skin “I’ll fuck that pretty little cunt until you’re screaming my name until you’re begging me to cum inside you.”

Each of his words was emphasized by a rough thrust of his hips, each drag of his length against your inner walls so perfect, making your eyes flutter and threaten to shut from the intense pleasure. His muscles rippled from the increased speed as his hips met yours, again and again, making sure his pelvis bullied your clit with each forward motion; cock burying itself even deeper inside you and hitting that spongy spot in your aching cunt that made you gush - soaking his coarse pubic hair and making a mess of you both.

Your cries of his name and tears of pleasure were met with mocking whenever you wailed out that it was too much; his rough tone growled at you to, “take his cock, like the good little brat you are.”

“Yeah, you wanted harder, so you fucking take it.” He snarled, pushing your legs even closer to your chest; lifting you higher as his balls pressed firmly against the curve of your ass; cock buried inside you to the hilt as his tip kisses your cervix. “M’gonna fill you up with my cum, n’you’re gonna keep it all in this sloppy pussy, yeah?”

“Y-yeah…” You mumbled with a nod, eyes glossy as your walls twitch around him.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

His grip tightens as his pace picks up to an even more brutish one, heavy cock bullying its way into you to pound that spongy sweet spot to make you gush and squirm for him. He was so close and wanted nothing more than to feel you sweet cunt milk his cock for all it was worth.

Your eyes finally closed due to the surmounting pleasure and pressure in your core; eyes rolling back once more as your nails raked down his back, leaving angry, red lines in their wake, and causing Bakugou to hiss in pain and pleasure. Wailing out his name one final time before cumming, hard; whimpering in overstimulation of the final few thrusts it took before Bakugou finally filled you up.

The weight of Bakugou’s body was comforting as he lay atop you; peppering kisses along your chest and neck as you both tried to recover from such intense pleasure. You pulled his head from your neck to press your lips to his in a final, and much needed, sweet kiss.

“You okay?” Bakugou whispered, eyes scanning her face for any signs of pain or discomfort, singing in relief when you nodded your head.

“Sorry I made us miss the movie” You giggled breathlessly, turning your head to the TV and watching the credits scroll across the screen.

Bakugou smirks, grinding his hips against yours and making you gasp “We can miss another one if you want.”