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Misery’s Tango

Fandom: Bnha / Mha Paring:  B. Katsuki x Reader Rating: 14+ Words: 1k28 Warning: Swearing, Alcohol, reference to sex, a little spicy dancing, mentions of bruises/ implied manhandling A/n: A short drabble for two lovers meeting again, dealing with the love they ended and can never get back

Dorris Day was officially getting old. The second her song started the ballroom was filled with partners gazing into each others eyes with a sickening form of endearment. It made her want to puke.

The Hero’s Gala was an annual event that served to honor the brave protectors of Japan and thank them for their hard work, presenting awards and opportunities. Y/n used to love going- getting dolled up to dance her feet raw with a prince charming she’d never meet again. She adored it really, every second was a dream to her.

Now, though, she felt cold. Her beautiful designer dress had been the talk of the night, the well-placed slit and plunging neckline had shaped her as a goddess, but it did nothing to protect her from the chill of the air. 

She swirled her red wine around her glass and tried to think of how many she could drink to heat her up but stay presentably sober. The sudden drop of a suit deep grey jacket around her shoulders jolted her back to awareness, and her face softened at the new company. 

Awkwardly standing next to her but not meeting her eyes, Bakugou scowled. “You’re such a dumbass. It’s the middle of winter and you didn’t bring a fucking jacket.”

She smiled softly and purely at the flush dancing along his cheekbones, “It’s been a long time, Katsuki.”

He hid the sudden hiss he released upon hearing his first name from her crimson lips, pretending not to melt at the way they shaped around the symboles. “Y/n.” Bakugou was breathless, whispering her name like a prayer to the goddess of life, begging for a moment longer to keep the atmosphere as elegant and familiar as it was.

“You look good.”

Her smile struck him in the soul, and he tried not to cry as she repositioned her body to face towards him- a habit she’d picked up when they were dating. It made him feel so important, like he was her sun. 

“So do you.”

Y/n fought to keep the pleasant upturn of her lips, but his strained voice was enough to make her cry. Still, he did look good. He’d cut his hair- shaved the sides while the top was fluffed back. He looked more than good, he looked heavenly. 

She blinked openly at the upward placed hand in front of her, blinking at Katsuki. She waited until he spoke- “Let’s dance?”

Say yes he wanted to cry. Dance with me, let me hold you- let me pretend for just a little longer.  He was sure he only needed one more second, one more night for it to be okay. Just one more hit of her addictive smile, her haze of affection, the high off her lips- just one more time and he’d quit for good. 

A bigger smile pulled on her lips and Bakugou suddenly couldn’t breathe- “I’d love to.” 

The sudden upturn of music didn’t go unnoticed- as their song started to play. Sway had been the first song they danced to together. A college party they were both a little too friendly at. 

Taking her place in front of him with her back turned- her breath hitched as one of his hands settled on her waist. The trumpets sounded off as they began moving- her hands drifting from his neck to his hair, trying to distract herself from his touch. 

Stepping in line with one another, Bakugou tried not to cry as her nails scrapped dully at the nape of his neck. The music worked up to signal the dip Y/n swooped into- clenching her eyes shut to stop herself from reacting to the hot breath against her neck. 

Pulling her up, Y/n twisted into a spin remaining connected only to his fingers. Tugging gently, he guided her back against him as they waltz across the dance floor. 

His eyes were blown with desire, his hands moving against the jacket he draped around her- regretting putting that layer between his hands and Y/n’s skin. 

I’m going to die here. Y/n’s eyes were glazed over as she fought to control her breathing, failing pathetically. He entangled his fingers into her hair as he swooped her backwards- a reminder of how flexible she was. 

Relying purely on muscle memory, Bakugou was taking in every moment he could- not wasting a single second. The music filled the air- the eyes surrounding them were unnoticed as the pair moved together. 

When Y/n’s leg wrapped around his a deep and craving moan came from his throat. He lifted her up across his chest as the dance called for, moving his hand a little higher than necessary- completely worth it for the whimper he received in return.

Each step was a moment closer together- each twirl an act of devotion. Like the sun and moon they circled each other. Like Hades and Persephone they doted on their affection, only to be separated at a moment’s notice. Like Icarus, Bakugou moved closer to his light. Like Catherine, Y/n felt her soul once again join with its identity. 

But the sun melted his wings, and Heathcliff was left without her. The song ended with them against each other- panting and delirious. Their eyes were locked and, just for a second, Katuski leaned down for a kiss. 

“Bakubro.” Eijiro’s voice called out rapidly approaching the frozen pair. Was that disappointment in her eyes? He wondered.

“Y/n/n!” Momo smiled pleasantly, wrapping her arm around Y/n’s. 

They were ripped apart by their worried friends, and, while they both knew it was for the best, they couldn’t help but look over their shoulders.

Could we have worked out? Y/n would think during her hot bath when the night was over- her hair in a bun and feet kicked up against the rim, a familiar crimson wine in her hand. 

What did we give up? Not even Kirishima could pull Bakugou from his thoughts that night, as he drowned himself in ‘what if’s’ and ‘could have been’s.’

Their love was fated for tragedy- romance painted from bruised skin and regret-soaked pillows. A tragedy, Y/n mused as she settled into her plush comforter, how melodramatic.

My Darling (I’m Not Coming Home)

B. Katsuki x Reader Explicit: Kidnapping, Assault , sexual assault, mind-breaking, torture, non-con, rape A/n: I was in the mood for hurt and no comfort so here you go loves <3

“Y/n, Y/n... you sure are beautiful, aren’t you?”

A strained whimper echo's against the cement walls, just hollow enough for the noise to come back and mock her.

“Oh princess, why are you crying?”

The cold felt like an illness-- prickling against her exposed skin until ever gust of wind from the air vent felt like a dagger cutting through her. The blindfold was just for their amusement she’s sure, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

Footsteps echoed through the hall outside the cell she was bound in. Please just walk by. Please just, just keep going. Please, God, please..

There was no mercy in divinity. He took no pity on the fifteen year old girl, spared her no tragedy. There was no sympathy in the way her wrists ached above her, chained to the roof. There was no miracle in the hand that caressed her bare ribcage. He heard each of her prayers, every single one. Which is why, when the rustle of clothes stopped next to her suspended corpse, she wasn’t surprised when the body no longer felt like her own.

“Did you hear?” He stood behind her, whispering directly into her ear. “They stopped looking for you today,” he pressed a lock of her hair against his noes, inhaling the scent which was more dust than conditioner.

“I have you all to myself now,” his hands snaked around her lower torso, running small circles with his fingertips. 

God was barbarous. 

“Do you want me to touch you?”

He circled her like a vulture.

“I can make all the pain go away,” 

His hands ran along the bruising on her wrists.

“You just need to say yes.”

For the first time, in the five months she’s been there, Y/n changed her answer.

God is cruel, he unhooked the chain, a savage being, he caught her as her body tried to collapse on the floor, vile, he lifted her into his arms-- cradled against his chest as he walked her out of the cell, blindfold still in place, sadistic.

Y/n had no big plans for her first time. She didn’t want roses or music, not a huge fan of massage oil or being serenaded. No, all Y/n wanted was to be with someone she loved.  

Her boyfriend was a gentleman. Katsuki was good to her, ferociously protective and loved her with all he had to give. He told her he wanted to wait. Until we’re eighteen, he had murmured to her while they cuddled, when I know it’s what you want.

This man, this thing, whatever he was.. he wasn’t someone she loved. 

He laid next to her, both on their sides as she faced the wall. His index finger traced the curve of her side, over her hip and back up again. “You did so good for me, princess. Thank you so much.” He shifted, moving closer to her sheet-covered body. “I just knew we’d be perfect together.” He kissed the side of her head and settled against her, falling asleep.

It took her fifteen minutes to realize it. The cuffs-- made for blocking her quirk-- were in the basement. She was upstairs. I can run.

Y/n moved slower than ever out of the bed, carefully replacing her body with a pillow and shuffling out the door. She moved franticly, going from locked room to locked room, desperate to find the exit. 

The hardwood floor crept with her every step but if she could just find the right door.

There it was, the door out of this fucking house was right in front of her! She lunged for her, her hand flying in front of her, activating her quirk. A little further and--

The black and purple smoke that gathered around her palm pressed against the door, disintegrating it to ash. The sunlight was painful to see but it felt so good on her sickly skin.

She ran, one step, two step, three step-

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?”

His arm caught her wrist and his other wrapped around her waist, throwing her up into the air.

“No! No! No! Let me go! Let me go! Please! Please just- I don’t wanna be here! I just wanna go home,” 

He threw her onto the cement floor, grabbing the chains and yanking her wrists into place. “Forget something?” He asked, holding up the blindfold she’d thrown on the floor.

“Oh, princess,” he wiped a tear from her cheekbone, false sympathy portrayed in his forehead and eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s a good day!” He stepped back, throwing his arms into the air-- “We finally became one! Together!” His arms fell but his smile stayed in place, disturbing with his otherwise furious features. “And now you’re mine.”

She stopped ‘praying’. While Y/n was never religious, the only time God was murmured in her head was when it was surrounded by curses.

There was a God, she’s sure of it, because she had no karma deserving of this. Fate had never bee this cruel. Perhaps destiny, she humored, but she knew destiny was just the word God used when he did something so terrible not even he, with his abominable sense of superiority, wanted credit for it.

Y/n had no clue how long she’d been in that house. No idea how many days passed, how far behind she was in school, if her boyfriend had moved on, if her parents stopped handing out flyers. She knew nothing. Nothing beyond the hand that sometimes soothed her face, sometimes did something very different.

The first time she willingly leaned into his touch he brought her grilled chicken. She cried when she tasted it. There were still days she flinched away, but she had learned to recover, to preen into his grasp. Her skin craved contact, longed for that connection. And he was here, willing to give it to her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” 

He said it almost every time he came to visit, whispered it like a prayer that, if spoken too loud, would break the intimacy of the moment. 

“Your hair is sacred,” he told her one day, running his fingers through the new growth delicately, kissing the crown of her head. 

But it wasn’t always good. Just as god was beastly and pathetic, so was he. A coward. 

“I can’t lose you!” He screamed, punching the wall.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he paced towards Y/n, running his hand from her neck to her chest, back up to cup her face. “Not you, princess. You can’t leave me.”

He held her tight against himself. “I’m so sorry my love, I’m so so sorry. I love you so much Princess, and I swear I'll make it up to you. I love you.”

He kissed her, pushing hard against her swollen lips and Y/n was pretty sure she could feel tears on her skin. And then he did it. 

The sickening crack reverberated off the walls. Y/n screamed, screamed so loud that her head felt like it was going to explode.

“I’m so sorry,”

The next crack didn’t hurt during that moment, the cold took over her once again, but this time it wasn’t an illness. It was a security blanket. For the first time in her imprisonment, Y/n was glad to have been suspended from the roof. Even if her wrists had been popped from their socket for a month, at least she wasn’t using the things beneath her.

She threw up over the floor- couldn’t breath as everything she ate spilt from her mouth, the smell only made her puke more. He shushed her, rubbing her back in the way Y/n always thought Mina might when they were older after drinking. 

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”

“Katsuki?”

He leaned against the cement wall, looking at her with a sympathetic smile. “Hi, Y/n.” He took in her form, “Are you... are you okay?”

She winced, “You’re not real.”

He huffed out a smile, “I hate how observant you are.” He cupped her face softly, pressing his forehead to hers, “Couldn’t you have given yourself this delusion? Even just for a minute?”

She shook her head.

“Why?”

She craned her neck to look towards his crimson eyes-- “Because I don’t have to imagine you. You’re going to come find me.”

She gasped in a puff of air, the pain in her legs were agonizing, put the familiar darkness told her she was awake. She was alive. A smile pulled at her lips-- god might be a coward, but Katsuki wasn’t.