A New Card Of Class A Has Been Revealed For The Art Expo

thinking abt unofficialbf!katsuki

unofficialbf!katsuki who's abrasive and rude and loud until you're near him. he almost instantly sizzles down

unofficialbf!katsuki who proudly declared you as "his" when you were 4 after you accepted his bouquet of dandelions and its kind of just stuck since then

unofficialbf!katsuki who, after that, began proudly holding your hand and marching around with you. at some point, it just became a habit for him to reach for your hand, continuing even as you got older

unofficialbf!katsuki who still apologizes to you the same way as when you two were kids. he holds your hand and looks away as he mutters "'m sorry.." with rosy cheeks. when he really messes up, he'll bury his nose into your neck and hold you close and whisper a genuine apology into your ear. he'll struggle for the right words and get super flustered, but you know hes trying!!

unofficialbf!katsuki who, for as long as izuku could remember, has been a package deal with you

unofficialbf!katsuki who is practically inseparable from you. like youre not hugging in class or anything but theres just this unnecessary proximity with you guys? you're always just unexplainably close for no reason

unofficialbf!katsuki who carries your bag everywhere. he complains that you "can't even carry your own damn bags!!" but would never let you carry them

unofficialbf!katsuki! who beats his friends up for being stupid when they don’t understand something he’s teaching them, but is so gentle when teaching you. he gets real close and talks in this low rumbly voice that’s just SO HOT

unofficialbf!katsuki whos an asshole to everyone but you

unofficialbf!katsuki who, despite being unnaturally nice to you and finds it hard to be/stay mad at you, gets really genuinely angry when you get reckless when fighting. the only times hes ever really yelled at you for real were when you put yourself in danger

unofficialbf!katsuki who doesnt care if mineta and kaminari ogle the other girls but would blow them up if they so much as laid an eye on you

unofficialbf!katsuki who tries to hide the way his eyes soften whenever you talk

unofficialbf!katsuki who, due to your childhood marriage/relationship/idk-its-complicated, is really comfortable with touching you. he would never let any of those other extras touch him, but he never hesitates to grasp your hand when you're scared, grab your waist to pull you in when he just wants you closer, or even pull you into his lap (in private) to cuddle. he has no problem manhandling you and throwing you over his shoulder or even carrying you bride-style when he's reaaally feeling confident. when you sit next to each other, his hands easily find your thigh almost subconsciously to rub his thumb over it soothingly

unofficialbf!katsuki who you've been having tickle fights with since you were little! he would never DARE hit you like he would those other losers, so he tickles you when he thinks you're being annoying. he knows all of your ticklish spots and still uses it against you when he thinks you're being bratty (or when he just wants to hear you laugh, but he'd die before he admits it)

unofficialbf!katsuki who LOVES cuddling with you! (would never admit it) you get all loud and fussy sometimes (no one is allowed to sass him other than you) so he just pulls you close to his chest and drags his fingertips up and down your back in the way he knows you like. he loves how it gets you all quiet and sleepy and clingy in a matter of minutes. he wonders if you notice the way that after just a couple minutes, your speech starts to slur and you bury your face into his chest or neck. (he does. he notices.)

unofficialbf!katsuki who you've been cuddling since you were kids so it just sort of continued as you two got older? you've known him for forever, so it never felt weird or anything. its just oddly natural? mitsuki has photos of you two cuddling from ages like 4-now.

speaking of mitsuki!! she absolutely ADORES you and unofficialbf!katsuki HATES it! he always mutters about how she likes you more than him whenever you come over, which is like everyday, which she always affirms happily. calls you "my sweet y/n-chan," "sweetheart," "dear," "lovely," and of course "my future daughter-in-law." (katsuki always tells her to "SHUT UP, OLD HAG" with bright red cheeks)

unofficialbf!katsuki whose grumpy moods and grumbles are easily halted by you running your hands through his blond spikes, which always turns him into putty in your hands

unofficialbf!katsuki who always has you in his dorm. he has this thing about nobody, not sero or denki or even kirishima being allowed in his bed when they hangout, but he lets you with no problem. in fact, he's the one who drags you into his bed with him.

unofficialbf!katsuki whose classmates have literally placed bets on when his balls will drop and he'll make you his official girlfriend (he cursed them out and blew stuff up when he found out)

can you tell im a sucker for the just friends/unofficial bf trope...

— katsuki bakugou ⋮ 03 / 16 / 25. ❝ 𝓗𝑨𝑷𝑷𝒀 𝓑𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑫𝑨𝒀 ❞

content warnings ⨾ soft!pro-hero!katsuki bakugou. happy (early) birthday katsuki !! profanity. bad days. kirishima mentioned. gn!reader - no pronouns, but reader is wearing a dress. not proof-read. word count ⨾ .6K ❪ 619 ❫

“you look pretty. gettin’ all dressed up for something?”

you meet katsuki’s eyes in the mirror. he stands in the doorway, leaned against the door frame with a smile on his face. your eyes drift and you realize he’s still wearing his costume. with furrowed brows, you turn to him and tilt your head. “katsuki,” you whine, throwing your hands into your lap. “you’re still in your gross hero stuff. we’re supposed to leave in twenty minutes! how are you meant to shower and do your hair and find an outfit and-“

he makes it to where you’re sitting in two and a half strides, his boots leaving mud tracks as he walks through the bedroom. he cuts you off with a chaste kiss, his gloves rough against your otherwise soft face. he leans back and smiles softly. “i’ll be quick, don’t worry. we’ll make it on time, baby.” when you pout, he laughs. “just wanted to see you for a sec. had a shitty day.”

your brows unfurl and you frown. “poor baby,” you coo, cupping his cheek, disregarding the ash smudged on his face. “do you want to talk about it? i can reschedule the dinner for a later reservation.”

“nah.” he shakes his head, but sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. you bite your tongue, reminding yourself that you can just wash the sheets later rather than berate him about it now. “just a lot of running around. shittyhair got thrown into a fucking building.” he laughs and drags a hand down his face. “so much for a happy birthday right?”

“i told you you should’ve taken the day off,” you sigh out, raising your brows and turning back to the mirror.

“criminals don’t take days off.” it’s quiet, a stark contrast to his usual intensity. you look at him through the mirror and bite the inside of your cheek. he looks so . . . defeated.

“katsuki,” you mumble, turning back around with another frown. you stand and walk over to him, standing in between his legs. “we don’t have to go tonight. we can stay in and watch a movie. it’s your birthday, y’know. we can go out some other time.”

he looks up at you and sighs. you take this time to look at him—really look at him. his boyish features from high school are long gone; chubby cheeks replaced by a sharp jawline, eyebags replaced by crows feet, the same freckles scattered across his cheeks.

he wraps his arms around you in a hug and presses his face into your stomach. you don’t mention how he bought you this dress and how the ash is most definitely going to stain it.

“you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he mumbles into the fabric, pressing into you harder. you feel your expression soften and you put your arms around his shoulders, squeezing three times—a special way to say i love you. “i don’t know what i would be without you.”

“you’d still be an amazing pro,” you say softly. “maybe a little lost—a little skinny, too.” he laughs and you smile. “but still an amazing, hardworking, kind, determined, helpful, loving pro-hero.”

he hums and for a long moment—maybe five minutes—you two stay like that, silent. the only noise is the AC running through the vents, and the washing machine. eventually, he leans back, keeping his hands on your hips.

“i love you.” he doesn’t say it often, choosing to express it in other ways, but when he does, it’s the best part of your day.

you lean down to press your lips against his, soft and full of meaning. “i love you too, kats. more than you will ever know.”

staying awake in the name of love k. bakugo

Despite his strict bedtime and his hatred of anyone interrupting his schedule, Katsuki would stay up for you and you alone. 

He would never do it for pleasure, simply because you wanted to, because he valued both of your health too much for him to compromise hours of sleep like that. 

But whenever you were having a rough time, unable to fall asleep due to the excruciating amount of pain you were in, he took it upon himself to stay up with you. He wouldn’t fall asleep until you did, and even then he was hesitant to rest his eyes. He felt as though resting would compromise your sleep and leave you laying there restless for the rest of the night, tossing and turning in agony. 

He was a hero, and he couldn’t bring himself to doze off when he knew there was someone out there in pain, especially someone he loved so furiously and endlessly. 

Katsuki Bakugo hated staying up, but he would do it if it meant taking care of you.

Taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts @hecate-frenchfries

ⓒ luvseraph , 4/14/25

"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread

Sure, why not? I know it's only been 6 months since I last shared any art here (I wanna maintain my aloof mysterious persona, after all) but I'm feeling generous. Join me on Patreon and BSKY coz that's where I live.

POUND TOWN | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: You keep talking crazy all night and risking your ability to walk so he took your craziness back to your room to see what's up.

content: smut. shameless smut, missionary, bondage, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, vibrator, messy sex, husband! bakugo, bakugo's a fucking freak.

Without his cock, he remains a sadistic bastard, feeding on your futile attempts to hide from him. But what happens when he suddenly takes an interest in using toys? He becomes a fucking monster.

Your hands are bound above you, wrists secured to the headboard. He got tired of you pushing his hand away—tired of your disobedience. Would you ever listen when he told you to stay still? No. You’d whine about it being ‘too much,’ drowning in your usual dramatics, claiming you were dying.

He only smirks at your theatrics, the curve of his lips a cruel promise. “Dying?” he mocks, fingers tracing the slick mess between your thighs. “You always say that, and yet—you’re still here.”

A breathy and broken moan falls off your lungs as he presses the toy against your overstimulated clit, a fresh wave of stimulation making your body jolt. You try to twist away, pawing at his hands, but the restraints hold you firm. He clicks his tongue.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is velvet over steel, laced with amusement. “I haven’t even started.”

The toy buzzes to life, the vibration sending a violent shudder through your body. Your legs twitch, but he’s already got you pinned. A low chuckle rumbles from him, dark and pleased.

“Yeah… you’re not going anywhere.”

It all came to life last week.

"Would you ever use toys on me bakugo?" the question came to him, and he scoffed with a obnoxious grin turning to you, "what, my cock not good enough for you anymore"

your eyes widened and you smacked him on the shoulder, "Don't be such a pervert" refusing to answer up-straight, he'd continue, flipping your questions of curiosity into nasty statements, and you would just roll your eyes in with a laugh as he laughed "god never mind"

But who would've known, that later in the same week, Katsuki Bakugo, would have been hyper fixated on the exact topic. Do extensive research, and went ahead to make the purchase of an Hitachi Magic Wand.

Your once bright eyes, rolling back in bliss. "oh my god" you whispered. Your body convulsing under his screened attention on your swollen clit as he fucks into you as if the vibration of the wand wasn't enough to send you mind fucked.

Your not sure how much time has passed, he sure as hell didn't make it seem as if any time had passed, continuing to empty his cum in your already full womb, dripping out onto the white sheets as he used his dick to push it in, ensuring none went to waste.

And when your body sunk lifeless into the sheets, he'd disrupt that out of pure curiosity, pressing the wand back to your pussy on the highest setting. You'd try to weakly push his hand off, not really sure your brain melting, drool leaking from from the corners of your mouth as you your legs trembled violently and he'd find the audacity to beg. "One more pretty girl, please"

will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?

Bakugou had turned the damn house upside down three times.

“Where the hell is it?” He hissed under his breath, storming through the hallway closet for the third time in two days. He’d torn apart the shoe rack, the document folders, and even flipped through the cookbooks in the kitchen, just in case he’d used it as a bookmark. No dice. The damn passport was still missing.

His hair was sticking up more than usual—half from stress, half from the static of the hoodie he’d thrown on that morning in frustration. They were supposed to leave for Korea in three days. Three. It was the biggest pro-hero conference he’d ever been invited to—panel talks, interviews, awards. Best Jeanist, Lemillion, and even Halfie had their confirmations sent in already.

And what did he have?

An expired copy of his license (he got a new one; the expired one’s just in his drawer), a half-crushed protein bar, and a very pouty, very pregnant wife in the living room.

You had your feet up on the couch, ankles slightly swollen beneath the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his wardrobe. You were scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other resting on your baby bump, lazily tracing circles. When Bakugou stomped past, you looked up with the slow blink of a cat.

“Still lost?” you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement. Even laughed under your breath.

The audacity, he thinks, though it wasn’t frustration. He could never be mad at you.

Because he knows you’ll get mad at him, too.

Bakugou didn’t answer. He grunted instead, pulling out another drawer in the cabinet near the TV.

“Maybe it grew legs and walked off,” you teased. “Or maybe your big fat ego swallowed it.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You hummed. “Not trying to.”

Your pout had gotten more dramatic since hitting six months. Bakugou noticed it more these days, how you’d stare down your food like it personally offended you, or how you’d sigh theatrically every time the topic of even him leaving the house came up. At first, you’d been supportive—even joked that you’d video call him during the conference and heckle him from the screen. But once you found out the biggest day of the event landed on your wedding anniversary, the whole game changed.

Suddenly he feels like he’s on house arrest.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you murmured, taking a sip of the juice he made you this morning. “Maybe you’re meant to stay home this time.”

Bakugou scoffed. As if.

“Ain’t no damn sign. It’s just misplacin’ shit.”

“You don’t have to go,” you said again. “You could stay. Cuddle me. Eat cake. Listen to me cry about clouds.”

“You said I could go if I find my passport,” he pouts, brows furrowed, and his lips jutted slightly.

“I did, and don’t be mad,” you replied. “I want you to go. Really. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Then why do you look like you wanna punch me in the throat?”

You blinked at him. “Because it’s our anniversary and I’m hormonal. Sue me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I hope you don’t find it.”

That was the end of that conversation.

-

The night before their anniversary came sooner than expected.

Bakugou had made a reservation at one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the city. Private booth, soft fairy lights, cityscape twinkling behind them. The host even laid a small bouquet of lavender on the table when he told them it was for a special occasion. He hadn’t told you where you were going, only grunted, “Wear that dress you like—that comfy one. You know the one.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything new about the passport ordeal. You, who figured he’d either given up or accepted fate, were mostly content to enjoy the evening.

You looked like a dream, so his focus was entirely on you. Someone who he somehow managed to have (maybe his bond with his guardian angels came in clutch and even contacted Cupid himself to arrange an arrow for you two).

You waddled into the restaurant, cheeks a little fuller, eyes glowing. He still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got so lucky. He thinks it makes you shy, how intense his gaze got, even after everything—the morning sickness, the mood swings, the late-night hospital runs due to paranoia.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked in.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning into his touch. You could barely hide your smile at this point. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I am? So what? Can’t a man just appreciate his wife?”

Dinner went well, for the most part.

You had one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around his fingers on the table. You were halfway through your chocolate mousse when Bakugou reached into his jacket pocket and slid something across the table.

“No,” you said slowly, setting your spoon down. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

He didn’t look smug at all, more like... hopeful.

Your brows furrowed. You reached for the passport, flipping it open.

There it was. His damn passport. Found. Intact. Stamped. His most recent picture was taken only a few months ago.

Yoh stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it again.

“…You found it?”

“Yup.”

“Where was it?”

He cleared his throat, gaze shifting to the side.

“…Behind the dresser in the guest room. Stuffed in that red envelope labeled ‘Important Shit,’ which you labeled in your handwriting, by the way.”

You paused. Your cheeks puffed again as your lips turned downward in the softest pout he’d ever seen. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, spoon idle.

“You’re really gonna go?”

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna leave you pissed off and lonely, either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just poked at your mousse with your spoon. Your lashes were low, and he could tell you were struggling. Not angry, just…sad.

Finally, you said, “It’s just one. It’s just one anniversary. We’ll have dozens more, right?”

“We will. We’ll have centuries more.”

“…And you’ll video call me. Every day.”

“Morning and night.”

“And text me when you land. And when you eat. And when you leave the venue. And—”

Bakugou reached across the table and tugged gently at your hand. His hands are rough against yours, but they’re filled with sincerity and utmost love that a man could give to his wife.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

His voice softened.

“Seriously, d’ya think I’d leave you without a plan?”

You blinked.

“I’m leavin’ you flowers and your cake. I told Kirishima to drop off that spa basket thing you said you wanted last month. And your mom’s stayin’ over the night of. I made sure. I even stocked the fridge.”

Your mouth parted slightly, tilting your head to the side. “You…did all that?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot. Even if I ain’t here physically. I’m still here.”

Your eyes shimmered just a bit. A good sign, Bakugou notes.

Then you smiled—soft and tired and affectionate.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Tch. Don’t cry. I’ll look like an asshole.”

You laughed then, nose crinkling. “You are an asshole. But a sweet one.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

“I do.”

You two didn’t talk about the passport again that night. Not after that.

Instead, you finished dessert. Slowly. Your hand stayed in his the whole time.

When you walked out of the restaurant, he kept his arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully down the steps like you were made of glass. You leaned into him, soft and warm, your belly pressing into his side.

And when they got home, you told him, “Let’s open the anniversary cake early.”

He didn’t say no. Not when you looked that happy. It doesn’t matter that he’s already full from the chocolate mousse you two had earlier.

When night finally settled, and Bakugou’s wiping the excess frosting off the corners of your lips with a napkin, he hears you say, “Come home soon, okay?”

He nodded, then softly kissed the crown of your head.

“Always.”

Always come home to you.

-

The morning of Bakugou’s flight started earlier than usual.

He had been up before the alarm even went off, brushing his teeth with the kind of intensity that only came from years of military-grade discipline… or nerves (also because he wants all bad germs on his mouth to die). Not that he’d ever admit to the latter. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from the hot shower as he stared at his reflection.

This was it. The day he was supposed to fly out to Korea.

Except—he wasn’t going.

Not really.

He’d made his decision last night, somewhere between the weight of your hug and the feel of your heartbeat against his body when you fell asleep on his chest. The moment you started snoring softly, your nose slightly buried in his shirt, he realized there was no way in hell he was getting on that plane.

Not this time.

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

Because if there was one thing Bakugou knew about his wife, it was that you’d throw a fit if he skipped a life-changing professional opportunity just to spend your anniversary folding baby laundry and rubbing your swollen ankles. Plus, he knew you’d never allow him to stay. And if you knew he was lying about leaving, you’d huff and puff until he actually made him go.

So, he planned ahead. Like a goddamn mastermind.

By the time you woke up—slightly groggy with pillow lines on your cheek—he had already “packed.” His suitcase was zipped shut and positioned neatly by the door. His travel duffle bag sat upright next to it. His travel documents were tucked inside an envelope labeled “Do Not Open Unless Emergency.” (Totally blank inside.)

You blinked at him sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you waddled into the living room in his oversized T-shirt. One of the many shirts he was sure was missing from his closet.

“You already packed?” you murmured, voice small and pouty.

He turned from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Acting too nonchalant to not give anything away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t wanna rush.”

You crossed your arms over your bump. “It’s only a three-hour flight, Katsuki. Not an expedition to the Arctic.”

“Still gotta prep,” he said, biting back a grin.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the smell of something sweet distracted you. Bingo.

He stepped aside, revealing a neatly arranged dessert box sitting on the counter. Inside: four of your favorites—strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, a slice of creamy Basque burnt cheesecake, a generous portion of tiramisu, and your current obsession: mango sticky rice.

“You bought me desserts?” you awed.

“I bought you a stack,” he corrected. “Don’t think I don’t know you get all sad and start craving sugar when I leave.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said, crossing his arms smugly. “You pouted so hard last time I left, I came back to find the fridge empty and you passed out with a half-eaten ice cream tub on the couch.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’m not takin’ chances.”

He bent forward, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to your rounded belly. “Eat well. Don’t lift anything heavy. Text me when you’re sleepy. I’ll land by lunch. Kirishima’s already on the way, but it’ll take a while because of traffic since the bridge is getting repaired.”

“You’re acting suspicious,” you said, frowning as you clung to his shirt. “You never say goodbye this… nicely.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re normally grumpy and say something like, ‘Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.’”

He smirked. You weren’t wrong entirely.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna come back to find out you’ve cried over an empty dessert box.”

Your lip wobbled, and he kissed you again—softly this time, with an extra squeeze to your waist.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just for two nights.”

-

He left around nine. Or at least, pretended to.

Instead of heading to the airport, he drove straight to his agency, parked in the underground garage, and holed up in his office. There was a bottle of juice in the mini fridge, emergency snacks in the bottom drawer, and an absurd number of congratulatory emails flooding his inbox that he ignored.

The hours ticked by slowly.

He checked his phone a dozen times. No calls. No texts. Just one blurry photo from you of the dessert box with the caption: You’re lucky I’m in a sugar coma right now. Or I’d be mad you left without triple kissing me goodbye.

He snorted.

Around lunchtime, he got restless. Then irritated.

Then, at exactly 1:00 P.M., he got in the car and drove home.

No warning.

No heads-up.

He half-expected you to be lounging in the living room, watching drama reruns and fanning yourself while complaining about heartburn. But when he pulled up the driveway and unlocked the front door—

The house was suspiciously quiet.

His brows pulled together.

“[Name]?” he called out, stepping in.

Nothing.

He frowned and shut the door behind him, stepping out of his boots. He heard a thud from the back hallway. Then a low grunt. A shuffle.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he heard you muttering.

“Come on, come on, I’m not that heavy—”

He rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

There you were.

Standing in the hallway. Sweaty. Red-faced. Holding a large box half your size with both hands, your bump barely giving you enough room to balance it. Your lip was caught between your teeth as you struggled to carry what was definitely one of the boxes he had explicitly labeled: Do Not Touch.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You screamed.

You literally screamed—jumping nearly out of your skin, eyes wide like you saw a ghost.

Or a burglar.

Or both, at this point.

“—Katsuki! I thought you were in Korea—what the hell—”

“Put the box down.”

“You can’t just walk in like that, I thought—I—”

“Put it down, [Name].”

You dropped it with a loud thunk, wobbling backward and grabbing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I thought you were a home invader! I was ready to throw a candle at you—why are you back?!”

Bakugou marched toward you, still wide-eyed with a mixture of rage and pure panic. He can’t believe this at all. “More importantly, why the fuck are you lifting boxes?!”

“I was bored!”

“Bored? So you decided to tear a disc and pop a blood vessel?!”

“I didn’t tear anything! And it wasn’t heavy; it’s mostly baby blankets!”

He crouched down instantly to pick it up—still heavy, despite your excuses—and carried it to the nursery, grumbling the entire way. “Goddamn woman’s gonna give me a stroke,” he muttered, though there was never any heat in his words.

You waddled after him, still stunned.

“Wait. Why are you here?!”

“I never left.”

“You… what?”

“I stayed at the agency. Figured I’d come back after you thought I was gone. Catch you red-handed.”

“You liar!”

He turned toward you, his frustration subsiding.

“You’re not even a good liar! You went full fake goodbye mode this morning! You even left me mango sticky rice!”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I knew you’d snoop around and start being reckless the second you thought no one was watching.”

Your cheeks puffed up again. That damn pout.

“I was just nesting,” you mumbled.

“Nesting doesn’t involve deadlifting half a closet,” he shot back. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

“…I thought you were in Korea.”

“Yeah, well, again, surprise.”

You blinked up at him again, eyes soft now, overwhelmed. “…You really stayed just for me?”

When he sets the boxes down, he exhaled and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “You really thought I’d leave you alone on our anniversary? Pregnant? Carrying boxes? Eating dessert by yourself? What do you take me for? A shitty husband?”

You hit his chest weakly.

“You’re so unfair,” you muttered.

“I know,” he grinned. “And I love you.”

You melted then. Completely.

Wrapping your arms around him, your bump pressing into his stomach, you buried your face in his chest and whispered: “I love you too, you dramatic maniac.”

That night, there was no flight. No press. No conference.

Just takeout on the couch, your feet in his lap, mango sticky rice on your plate, and his hand splayed across your belly like a homecoming gift.

Bakugou may have missed a headline.

But he made the right choice.

And that mattered more.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

𝜗𝜚 bakugou katsuki | bad operation

❕smut mdni, prohero!katsuki, rough sex.

“k-katsu…s-slow- ah! down!” your boyfriend prohero bakugou katsuki only tightened his grip on your waist as you cried out helplessly. an operation had failed today and, oh no… the explosive dynamight was going to fuck you for hours without getting tired.

“s-suki! please! mphhg-” his big hands gripped the sides of your waist tightly, his spiky hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. the moment he got home, he had only taken off his gloves and large pieces of his costume, and now with his black top clinging to his arm muscles, damn it, he was nothing short of a perfect sight. he was always hard, and always too much for you. even though his big cock had entered your pussy countless times, it gave you a new taste every time.

your moans grew louder as katsuki fucked you hard without speaking. you even thought your voice would break. “fucking idiots…” a few small raspy whispers. oh, he was so, so angry. huh, goddamned prohero katsuki bakugou, he knew how you liked it when he was fucking your pussy hard and seeing stars.

with his red eyes as bright as flames, he will watch with great pleasure how you get destroyed while he fucks you in missionary position. what could be better than destroying your ruined pussy instead of lashing out in anger?

“say it, who is destroying you right now?” and yeah he knew he was in heaven as the tip of his big cock touched your womb and pressed hard against the tiny bulge forming in your belly.

how many times have you cum so far? three, four?

“i’m gonna cum in that fucking pussy of yours until i’m sure you’re seeing stars, you hear me?”

© itoshhi 2025 {do not copy, translate, steal, modify without permission.}

The Breakup ✮ BNHA UNI. AU

—

Tears streamed down your soft cheeks as you looked down at the screen of your phone. You had finally removed him from your social media after a much needed conversation. While the breakup was almost a year ago.. it had become complicated. Holding onto feelings you didn’t realize you had, anger, heart ache, disappointment.

You finally reached acceptance. You realized you deserved better and that’s why you and your ex were having the conversation. You had told him you were going to remove him so he wouldn’t question it later on. The conversation was emotional as he apologized for how he hurt you and as the anger boiled over your heart, you knew how to forgive.

The minute your finger left the remove button, a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you knew this was just the start of something new. The start of loving a version of you that you were going to have to learn to heal.

You got up out of your bed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were glossy and your lips a bit red/sore. You tried forcing a soft smile out of yourself before walking out of your dorm. It was 11 at night and you figured nobody was up and if they were they were on late night missions or patrol.

What you weren’t expecting was to see Bakugou in the kitchen baking cookies. The smell drew you in as you walked down the hall. He was wearing a fitted black shirt with matching black sweatpants and gray socks with slippers.

“Why are you up ?” the sudden question spooked you considering his back was turned to you and focused on the baking sheet filled with cookie dough. However you were well aware of the creaky floor and as a young hero, his ability to be observant. You didn’t reply as you walked over, the silence made him turn to look at you and repeat the question but his words fell short once he noticed the look in your eyes.

For a moment it almost seemed as if he was sad, his facial expression slightly shifted before turning his back to you again and focusing on the cookie dough.

You knew he didn’t want to ask, you rarely cry if not at all, and for you to be vulnerable enough to do it in front of him really shows something is wrong. So you answer the lingering questions for him.

“I removed my ex from my socials..”

“Him and I broke up almost a year ago but it was complicated and I realized..” you hesitated, almost as if the tears you were fighting were threatening to come back.

“I realized I deserved more for myself. He hurt me in so many ways and my self worth is too high to tolerate that pain. So I removed him because I needed to let him go completely. I want to heal and learn to care about me for once” your words were fierce, filled with determination to prove something.

There was silence. He said nothing.

Your shoulders fell softly, after your little speech that eagerness slightly faltered as you found a seat at the kitchen counter and watched as baked.

“I have nothing to say cause it seems like you’ve already got it figured out.” you look up, his back is still turned to you as he speaks.

“Any idiot stupid enough to hurt you was never deserving of you anyway. You saved yourself the stress by getting rid of him. Besides, men ain’t shit.” and that remark earns a chuckle from you which was well needed.

The cookies were done in the time you two spoke and he slid the warm plate onto the counter for the two of you two share.

You smiled at the warm feeling, almost wanting to cry as you’re flooded with so many mixed emotions.

“Thank you katsuki” you look up at him and this time he’s already looking at you. A hint of nervousness reaching its way to your cheeks.

“The right guy will come around alright ? So don’t go stressn’ over these dumbasses cause they’ll just waste your time” he stands up to grab a drink from the fridge as you continue eating cookies, taking note of what he said.

Little did you know the ‘right guy’ was the one currently fighting the urge to prove to you till the end of time how he was the only one deserving of you.

But he knew you needed to worry about you first.

He’ll know when you’re ready and for that he’d wait centuries for.

💫 stars were made for falling