WNDR7387

kiribaku

Seventy-two hours apart, two missions, zero contact — and now both your husbands are standing in the doorway at the exact same second, duffel bags dropped, eyes locked on you like the apartment shrank to the size of your heartbeat. Bakugo is already radiating heat you can feel from across the room, jaw tight, red eyes daring you to look away first. Kirishima is grinning — that wide, sharp, dangerous grin that means he has been thinking about this moment for three days straight. You have exactly one second before this becomes a competition.