Dynaxplosion - Riaaaaa

DIVAASSSS

tried drawing these amazing strongk ladies for the first time :^)

---

"Explosions of the Heart"

This one is rlly long😭

☆☆☆

The hospital reeked of antiseptic and tension. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Bakugo Katsuki paced the floor like a caged animal. His hands—usually steady in battle—trembled slightly. Outside the delivery room, his world was unraveling.

"Mr. Bakugo," the nurse called gently. "She’s in distress. We’re doing everything we can."

He didn’t answer. His crimson eyes were locked on the swinging double doors that had swallowed you hours ago.

You—his wife, his partner, the only person who could call him a dumbass and still get a smile out of him—were behind those doors. And you were fighting a battle even he couldn't charge into fists-first.

Twelve Hours Earlier

Your water had broken in the dead of night. You’d barely gotten a full sentence out before Bakugo was already tossing clothes into a bag and barking at the cab company over the phone. By the time you reached the hospital, contractions were tearing through you like lightning, each one worse than the last.

Something wasn’t right.

The baby was breach. Your blood pressure spiked. You were losing too much blood. They rushed you into an emergency delivery, voices sharp and fast. Bakugo hadn’t been allowed in.

Present

Time blurred. Katsuki hated feeling useless more than anything. He should be in there. He should be beside you, holding your hand, telling you it was going to be okay even if his chest felt like it was going to explode.

A sudden scream tore through the hall. Your scream.

His knees buckled. He hadn’t even heard himself move before he was slamming into the door, fists glowing faintly, ready to break it down—

"Sir!" a nurse barked, shoving him back. "You can't go in there!"

"That’s my damn wife!" he snarled. "Let me—"

The screaming stopped.

Too abruptly.

Bakugo froze. The world stopped moving.

Seconds felt like eternities until finally, the doors opened and a doctor stepped out, blood on her scrubs and exhaustion in her eyes.

"She’s alive," she said softly. "And so is your son. But it was close. Too close."

His legs gave out and he collapsed into the nearest chair. His hands covered his face as air finally returned to his lungs. Alive. You were both alive.

"You can see her now."

He stood shakily, pushing into the room. You looked like hell—pale, exhausted, barely able to lift your eyelids—but when you saw him, a weak smile curved your lips.

"You look like shit," you whispered.

A choked laugh escaped him. He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, dumbass.”

Then he saw the tiny bundle in your arms. Wide red eyes—his eyes—blinked up at him.

"Hey, little guy," he said, voice thick. "You’re already causing trouble, huh?"

You laughed faintly, and Bakugo leaned in, touching his forehead to yours.

"Next time," he murmured, "we're adopting."

---

Two Weeks Later

You were finally home.

The scent of sterilized hospital air had been replaced by the warmth of your shared apartment, still littered with unopened baby gifts and half-assembled furniture. It felt surreal, like you had died and somehow gotten a second chance.

Katsuki hadn’t left your side since the hospital.

He’d been quieter than usual—not cold, but... different. Protective. Watchful. The explosions were fewer, the yelling almost nonexistent. And at night, when he thought you were asleep, you caught him just staring—at you, at the baby, at the scar the IV left on your hand.

Like he couldn’t believe either of you were still here.

You shifted slightly on the couch, wincing. Your body still ached like hell. The stitches, the swelling, the pressure—no one talked about how brutal recovery would be. You felt raw. Fragile.

"Katsuki," you called weakly.

He appeared instantly from the kitchen, a bottle in one hand and your pain meds in the other. "Need something?"

"Come sit with me."

He hesitated. "You’re still hurting. I don’t wanna crowd you."

You reached out, fingers curling in the air.

He sighed, set everything down, and slid onto the couch beside you. Carefully. Gently. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your newborn cradled against your chest, tiny breaths warm against your skin.

"He looks like you," you murmured.

"Poor brat," he said, but his voice was soft.

Your fingers laced with his.

"You’ve been quiet."

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then:

"You almost died." His voice cracked. “And I couldn’t do shit about it.”

You turned to look at him, eyes brimming. "But I didn’t. We didn’t. Katsuki, you didn’t leave me. Not for a second. That means everything."

He clenched his jaw. “I’ve fought villains who tried to kill me. I’ve been stabbed, exploded, buried under rubble. I can deal with that. But you, bleeding out and screaming and I couldn’t even touch you—” He broke off. “I’ve never been that fucking scared in my life.”

Tears slipped down your cheek, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “You’re here. I’m here. Our son’s here. That’s all that matters.”

He looked down at the sleeping baby, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. “He’s tiny.”

You smirked. “So were you. Until puberty hit like a damn truck.”

A reluctant chuckle rumbled from him. “If he has even half your stubbornness, we’re screwed.”

“Half yours, you mean,” you teased.

The room went quiet again. You nestled closer, letting yourself breathe in his warmth, his scent. Safe.

“I thought I was ready to be a dad,” he said suddenly. “I trained for it. Got the nursery set up, read every damn book. But the second they handed him to me, I realized I didn’t know shit.”

You smiled sleepily. “You’re already doing perfect.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I haven’t blown up a diaper yet.”

You both laughed—quiet, tired, and a little broken, but real.

He looked at you, really looked, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You blinked. Bakugo never whispered.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, voice catching.

And for the first time in weeks, you both finally exhaled.

---

Three Months Later

“You sure you’re okay without me for a few hours?” you asked again, already halfway out the door.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, baby monitor clipped to his sweatpants, your son strapped into a carrier on his chest like a slightly confused koala.

“D’you think I can’t handle him or something?” he grumbled.

“I think he shat through three outfits before noon yesterday, and you nearly declared war on baby wipes.”

Katsuki scowled. “One time.”

“One time per diaper.”

You kissed his cheek before he could argue, smirking. “You’ll be fine, Dad of the Year.”

The door clicked shut behind you.

And just like that… it was quiet.

Bakugo glanced down at the wide-eyed little boy strapped to his chest. “Alright, kid. Just me and you.”

The baby blinked, then made a soft gurgling noise.

“You better not be loading your diaper already.”

**

The first twenty minutes went smooth. Katsuki heated a bottle with military precision, burped the baby like a pro, and even played peekaboo without blowing anything up.

Then the baby started crying.

Loud.

Katsuki checked the diaper. Clean. Tried feeding him. Refused. Burping? Nothing. Pacifier? Launched like a missile.

“Are you broken?” he hissed, bouncing him awkwardly.

The baby wailed louder.

Bakugo, future Number One Hero, demolisher of villains, destroyer of fear itself… was being absolutely obliterated by a 12-pound infant.

“Alright!” he shouted over the crying. “You win, gremlin!”

He tried the ultimate move: laying on the couch with the baby on his chest, just like you did.

It worked. Instant silence.

“…Seriously?”

Tiny fingers gripped the collar of his shirt, and the baby let out a satisfied sigh, snuggling deeper against him.

“Tch. You just wanted to lay on me, huh?” Katsuki mumbled. “Clingy little nerd.”

He didn’t move. Not even when his phone buzzed. You’d texted: Everything okay?

He snapped a photo of his son sleeping peacefully on his chest and sent it back.

We’re good. Don’t rush.

He stared at the photo for a long time, warmth blooming in his chest. The kid looked so much like you when he was relaxed. And Katsuki realized something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

He loved this.

Being a dad.

The mess, the noise, the confusion—it was all chaos he could handle if it meant protecting you and this little bean.

“You’re not that bad, y’know,” he muttered. “Might even grow up to be cooler than me.”

The baby snorted in his sleep.

“Yeah, alright, don’t push it.”

**

When you walked in an hour later, you found them both fast asleep—Katsuki snoring, the baby drooling on his chest, one tiny fist tangled in his dad’s ash-blond hair.

You smiled and quietly snapped a photo.

The caption would read: My boys. Chaos level: manageable.

For now.

---

Ten Months Later

Your son had started babbling a while ago, but it was mostly incoherent nonsense—"ba-ba," "da-da," the occasional squeal that sounded like a baby pterodactyl mid-meltdown.

Katsuki had been watching him like a hawk, waiting for the first real word. It had practically become a competition between you two—who would he say first? "Mama" or "Dada"?

Katsuki refused to lose.

“You know I carried him for nine months, right?” you said, folding laundry one afternoon.

“Yeah, and I carried your ass through every post-labor breakdown, so I’d say we’re even,” he grunted, ruffling your son’s spiky blond hair as he sat chewing on a toy grenade (definitely plastic).

Your son looked up at him with wide, mischievous eyes and suddenly let out a loud, clear—

“Boom.”

Silence.

You blinked. “Did he just—?”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “No. No way. Say it again, brat.”

The baby giggled. “Boom!”

“Oh my god.”

Katsuki stood there frozen for a moment, and then his mouth curled into the smuggest grin you’d ever seen.

“That’s my boy.”

You threw a sock at his face. “Katsuki, his first word was ‘boom.’”

“I’m proud as hell.”

“He’s not a grenade!”

“He’s mine, so yes, he is.”

Your son squealed again. “Boom!”

Now he was bouncing.

“Stop encouraging him!” you said, even though you were trying not to laugh.

Bakugo squatted beside him and bumped their foreheads together gently. “Boom, huh? You’re gonna be a damn legend.”

You shook your head in disbelief, watching your two pyro-twins grin at each other like chaos incarnate.

Katsuki looked up at you, full of fire and affection. “Guess we know what kind of quirk he’s leanin’ toward.”

You groaned. “We are so not baby-proofed for explosions.”

Katsuki smirked. “Guess I better teach him control before he blows up the crib.”

Your baby babbled happily between them again. “Boom!”

Yeah. You were definitely raising a little dynamite.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

Age: 2 Years, 3 Months

Your son’s first day of daycare was supposed to be normal.

You’d packed his snacks, extra clothes, diapers, wipes, and left strict instructions that he was “sweet, a little stubborn, and very attached to his Bakugou-brand plushie.”

You also wrote in bold: “If he gets upset, avoid loud noises. They tend to... backfire.”

The teacher smiled politely. “We’ve handled all kinds of quirks. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t.

Until the phone call.

Three hours later.

Bakugo answered it on speaker.

“Hello, this is—uh—Miss Hikari from Little Hero Steps Daycare. We have a small situation.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Is he hurt?”

“No! No, he’s fine. Perfectly fine. A little excited, actually…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…but the plastic slide may have, um... detonated.”

Katsuki let out a low snort. “He blew up the slide?”

“It was only the top half,” she added quickly. “And technically, it was more of a pop than a boom.”

You could feel Katsuki’s pride from across the kitchen.

“Are the other kids okay?” you asked, horrified.

“Yes! No injuries. He wasn’t upset, just… showing off. He said ‘Boom!’ and then—”

“That’s my son,” Bakugo said, folding his arms with a smug little smirk.

You elbowed him. “That is not a good thing.”

“Didn’t say it was bad either.”

**

When you arrived at the daycare, your son was sitting on a beanbag with three teachers around him—like he was some kind of dangerous celebrity.

His hair was wild, his cheeks were smudged with soot, and he looked way too pleased with himself.

“Mommy! Daddy!” he yelled, running over and nearly tripping on his own feet.

“Hey, you little menace,” Katsuki muttered, picking him up.

“Boom!” he chirped proudly, like it was his name.

One of the teachers came over, cautiously.

“We think his quirk is starting to develop. It’s... early, but very similar to yours, Mr. Bakugo.”

Katsuki beamed. “Damn right it is.”

You groaned. “Please tell me we’re not banned.”

The teacher laughed nervously. “No—though we’re investing in more fireproof playground equipment starting immediately.”

**

That night, after your son was passed out in his crib, soot still faintly dusting his forehead, you collapsed on the couch.

“He’s gonna be a handful,” you murmured, resting your head on Katsuki’s chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered, stroking your hair. “He’s gonna be a hell of a hero too.”

You smiled, eyes drifting closed as you listened to your husband’s heartbeat under your cheek—steady, strong, and forever explosive.

Just like the little boy down the hall.

---

You were pregnant. Again.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen quite so soon—not when your firstborn was still blowing up laundry baskets for fun and calling it “training.”

But the second those two pink lines appeared, your stomach flipped. Part nerves. Part excitement. And a lot of “oh god, how is Bakugo going to react?”

**

You told him on a quiet evening. Your son was asleep (finally) and the living room still smelled faintly of scorched Play-Doh.

You sat beside him, heart racing.

“I’m pregnant.”

Bakugo blinked. He looked at you. Then at your stomach. Then back at you.

“…Are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

He leaned forward slowly, resting a hand on your thigh like he thought the couch might explode.

“Holy shit.”

You laughed. “That’s… not the response I expected.”

He stared at your stomach for a long time before finally saying, softly, “You okay with this?”

“I’m scared. But yeah. I want this.”

He nodded, jaw tightening. “You nearly died last time.”

“I know.”

“You think I can do this again?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “What if I lose you this time?”

You reached for his hand. “Then you hold me tighter and fight harder.”

Bakugo clenched his fists, then gently rested one palm on your belly.

“…You better be a chill baby,” he muttered. “I can’t handle two demolition experts at once.”

**

Your son found out a week later when he walked into the kitchen, pointed to your tiny bump, and said:

“BOOM 2?”

You choked on your orange juice. Katsuki burst out laughing.

From that point on, the baby was Boom 2 to him.

**

As the months passed, your second pregnancy felt... different. Easier in some ways, harder in others. Your son was older now, talking more, asking endless questions.

“Did I live in your belly too?”

“You did, baby.”

“Was I loud?”

“You screamed the whole time.”

He nodded proudly. “Boom!”

Katsuki didn’t stop worrying. Not for a second. Every time you winced, he was at your side. Every time you had a check-up, he came. He argued with nurses over your chart. Practically threatened the OB into promising you a safer delivery plan.

“I lost my shit once,” he told the doctor. “I’m not doing that again.”

**

One quiet night, a few weeks before your due date, he crawled into bed behind you and wrapped his arms around your belly, pulling you gently against his chest.

“Still scared,” he whispered against your skin.

“I know,” you whispered back.

“But I want this. I want all of this. You, him”—he nodded toward your sleeping toddler down the hall—“and this tiny bomb too.”

Your heart melted.

“I want them to know they’re loved,” he added, voice thick. “No matter how loud, or messy, or crazy it gets.”

“They’ll know,” you promised, turning to kiss him softly. “Because they have you.”

Katsuki didn’t answer. He just held you tighter, his hand on your belly.

And somewhere inside, Boom 2 kicked like they were already ready to make an entrance.

Just like their brother.

Just like their dad.

---

It started with a kick.

Not just any kick—one that rocked your whole body at 3:12 a.m.

You groaned, gripping the edge of the bed.

Katsuki shot up like a soldier under fire.

“Contraction?” he barked.

“Yep,” you hissed, breathing through it.

He was already moving—bag in hand, grabbing your shoes, shouting toward the baby monitor: “Stay asleep, Boom #1!”

**

This time around, the doctors were ready. And so was Katsuki.

Still, even as they guided you into the labor room, he was white-knuckling the edge of your bed, eyes locked on you like if he blinked, you’d vanish.

You reached for him.

“I’m okay,” you said between waves of pain. “I’m okay.”

“I’m not letting go of you this time,” he muttered, voice low, jaw clenched.

And he didn’t.

Not when your screams broke through the walls.

Not when the monitors started beeping faster.

Not when the doctor said, “We need to move quickly—cord’s wrapped.”

He held your hand through it all. Pressed his forehead to yours. Whispered every curse word in the book, followed by: “You’ve got this. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

And when the final cry rang out—

A high, sharp wail that cut through the air like lightning—

Bakugo exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for nine months straight.

“She’s perfect,” the nurse whispered.

“She?” you breathed, dazed.

Katsuki blinked. “A girl?”

They placed her on your chest—tiny, red, angry as hell. She immediately latched onto your hospital gown like she was ready to fight the world.

You laughed through tears. “She’s already like you.”

Katsuki stared at her.

Just stared.

His eyes—those wild, stormy eyes—were wide and full of wonder.

“You’re kidding me,” he whispered. “I’ve got a daughter.”

You reached for his hand. “You’ve got us.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your daughter’s.

“I swear on my damn life,” he whispered, “no one’s ever gonna mess with you.”

She let out a fierce little squeak.

And he smiled, completely undone.

**

An hour later, you were resting, and he was sitting by the bed with your baby girl tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Name?” you asked, eyes heavy but heart full.

He looked down at her, then at you.

“What about Kaori?” he said. “Strong. Bright. Means fragrance or light.”

You smiled. “Kaori Bakugo. It’s perfect.”

And for the first time that night, the hospital room felt still. Safe.

Because no matter how explosive your little family was becoming—

It was built on something unshakable.

Love. Fire. And a whole lot of Boom.

---

Two days after Kaori’s birth, you came home—sore, exhausted, but glowing. Kaori was tiny, sleepy, and wrapped like a burrito in her fuzzy explosion-patterned blanket that Katsuki insisted she wear home.

Your front door creaked open slowly.

Bakugo carried Kaori in with terrifying precision, like she was made of nitroglycerin.

Inside, your two-year-old son was standing barefoot in the hallway—holding a plastic grenade in one hand and a drawing in the other.

“Mommy!” he shouted, running at you.

You caught him one-armed, lifting him up, groaning slightly. “Easy, baby.”

Katsuki stood back, rocking gently with Kaori in his arms. “Hey, Boom #1,” he said softly. “Wanna meet your sister?”

Your son blinked, looking at the tiny pink bundle.

“That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“She looks squishy.”

“She is,” you said, chuckling. “Gentle, okay?”

He padded over on tiptoes, peering up at her like she was some sort of sacred relic.

“…She doesn’t go boom?”

“Let’s hope not,” Katsuki muttered.

“She’s your baby sister,” you explained. “Her name is Kaori.”

He tilted his head. “Can I keep her?”

Katsuki smirked. “She’s not a pet.”

“But I love her already,” your son said proudly. Then leaned close and whispered (as if it were a spell): “Boom.”

Kaori stirred slightly… and farted.

A loud one.

Your son lost it.

“SHE DOES BOOM TOO!” he screamed.

Katsuki nearly dropped her from laughing so hard. “Oh god. She’s already like you.”

**

You all settled in the living room. Kaori slept peacefully on Katsuki’s chest while your son built a pillow fort and declared it the "Boom Base."

“She can live in the base with me,” he announced.

“She’s not old enough for base life yet,” you said.

“I’ll protect her,” he added matter-of-factly. “From monsters. And spiders. And broccoli.”

You looked over at Katsuki, who was watching the two of them with a look you’d only ever seen twice before: once on your wedding day, and once when your son took his first steps.

“Didn’t think I could love more than I already did,” he murmured. “But damn.”

You scooted closer and leaned into him, Kaori safe between you.

“Looks like we’re officially a team of four.”

“Correction,” Katsuki said. “We’re a squad.”

A very loud, occasionally explosive, wildly chaotic squad.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Obsessed with his last name - K. Bakugou

cw: pure fluff with bf!katsuki because I need it this morning.

He doesn’t get it. The two of you have been dating for years but you still insist on calling him ‘Bakugou’.

It didn’t bother him at first, the two of you still getting used to the intimacy of each other’s names and figuring out what pet names the two of you prefer. But not you. It’s always been ‘Bakugou.’

The occasional ‘Katsuki’ or ‘Kats’ will slip out in the quiet hours of the morning, when both your voices are still laden with sleep.

It’s only when he’s standing in the kitchen, pouring your cup of coffee in that to-go mug he got you from his agency that he asks. “Why do you always call me by my last name?”

His tone is soft and a little sad, his gaze doesn’t entirely meet yours either, just slowly watching the ribbons of cream mix with the rich dark coffee.

“Is there a problem with me calling you by your last name? You’ve never said anything about it before now…” you say gently, walking around the island counter to stand next to him.

He stands with his hands on the edge, spoon set down against the neatly folded towel so it doesn’t leave stains on the counter top. “No… I just— never got why you sometimes call me a nickname and it never sticks. You always revert to ‘Bakugou’.”

There’s a beat of silence before you wrap your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead to the space right in between his shoulder blades. “Maybe I like it so much because I hope it’ll be my last name some day.” Your cheeks are warm and he can feel it through his shirt.

He’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you never really talked about marriage but he’s known for ages you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But hearing you voice that? There’s no way he’d have a problem hearing that again. “And there’s no one else I’d rather have take my last name.”

His hands cup your cheeks as he turns around and presses his lips to yours, happy as he could ever be.

Bakugou x reader and it's just a reader who is really expressive with liking him? Little treats here and there, writing him notes, always being around him, etc. obviously he gets mad at some point and tells her to leave him alone but he winds up missing her? Idk it's just smth quick I came up with since y'all asked for requests. This also could be done with Gojo maybe 🧐

TOO MUCH..

CW: angst w comfort & bkg is a bitch

A/N: ty for sending in a request ily 🥹

You sat on the bench outside of the UA training field, your eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for him. Bakugou Katsuki, the student you were way too invested in. He was loud, brash, and always pushing people away, but you couldn’t help it—he was like a magnet, drawing you in with his strength, his passion, his unyielding attitude.

And, okay, maybe you were a little obsessed. But it wasn’t like you’d ever admit it. Well, at least, not in a way that didn’t involve writing him notes and leaving little treats in his locker. It was your way of showing him that you cared, even if he made remarks every day that he didn’t want to be treated ‘like a baby’.

Today, you had something special—just a little snack for Bakugou. His favorite, as you’d learned after a year of paying attention to the little details.

You heard his voice before you saw him. “Oi, you! What the hell are you doing here?”

You jumped to your feet, practically glowing with excitement. “Katsuki! I made you some snacks! It’s just a little something, you know, for your training,” you said, handing him the neatly wrapped bundle.

He eyed it suspiciously, his expression tight. “What, you think I need you to pamper me now? I’m fine.”

Your smile faltered a bit, but you shrugged. “It’s just a snack. I thought you’d like it. I know you’re always busy and don’t have time to grab something to eat.” Your eyes avoided his.

His crimson eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something softer in them. But it was gone just as quickly. “Tch. Whatever.” He snatched the package from your hands, though, his eyes still burning with annoyance. “Stop acting like some damn food will make me like you more..”

“Bakugou, I—”

“Just leave me the hell alone!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Stop following me around and acting all sweet, okay? I don’t need it!”

You froze, his words like a slap to the face. You had grown used to his outbursts, but this time, it hurt a little more. You stared at him, blinking as your mind scrambled to process everything he said.

“Fine,” you whispered, your heart sinking in your chest. “I’ll leave you alone.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Bakugou standing there, clutching the snack you’d made for him, feeling a strange weight in his chest.

Days passed, and Bakugou didn’t realize just how much he missed you until he saw your empty seat in class. You haven't been around much lately. You didn’t sneak little snacks into his locker, no notes with little doodles of “Good luck!” or “I believe in you!” You didn’t hover around him like you used to. And it left him feeling... off.

He attempted to tone out the sound of Kirishima asking about you, but he was persistent. “Hey, Bakugou, have you seen Y/N lately? She hasn’t been around much. You know, I think she’s been worried about you.”

Bakugou scowled, the words rattling around in his head. “What the hell are you talking about? Who cares?”

But even as he said it, he could feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like he missed her or anything. Not really. She was just... always there. He didn’t want to admit that he’d gotten used to her presence.

When he saw you again, it was in the hallway, your head down as you walked past him, seemingly lost in thought. You didn’t even look up when you crossed his path. The usual spark of recognition, the little flash of joy that came from just being near him, was gone.

"Oi!" Bakugou barked, and you froze, your hand halfway to the door of your classroom. "Why the hell aren’t you talking to me anymore? I told you to leave me alone, but that doesn’t mean you can just disappear."

You turned, your eyes wide with surprise. “I—I thought you wanted me to leave you alone..?”

He gritted his teeth, frustration building in his chest. “You think I wanted that? I didn’t ask for you to act like some damn ghost! You’ve been gone for days, YN. What the hell is going on?”

You blinked in confusion, stepping closer but still not fully understanding what was happening. “But... you said—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean it! At least, not like that.” he made a desperate attempt to explain, his voice softer this time, tinged with an unexpected urgency. “You’re always around, and I hate it. But... hell, I miss you being there. I don’t know why. I just—” He stopped, his face turning redder than usual, and he looked away, grumbling. “Just... don’t disappear again, okay? I’m.. sorry.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips, the same smile you always wore when he frustrated you. “I can’t promise I won’t be around. I’m just too... much, I guess,” you teased.

“Damn right you are,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something warmer than the usual anger. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You stepped forward, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, then placed your hand on his shoulder. “I won’t. I promise.”

Bakugou stared at you, his heart racing, unsure of what to say. You spoke instead,

“But seriously, don’t ever pull this shit again or I might just kill you.”

He chuckled, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as annoyed with you as he let on.

From then on, the little notes and treats kept coming. And despite all the grumbling, the scowls, and the sarcastic remarks, Bakugou found himself growing more comfortable with your presence. He’d never admit it, but he was starting to look forward to seeing you, even if he was too stubborn to let you know.

After all, even Bakugou couldn’t stay mad at someone who cared enough to stick around.

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boyfriend katsuki doesn’t know, or care, about the difference between your wants and needs.

you’re out of your favorite lip gloss? it’s sitting on your desk the next morning, the exact shade, down to the brand, like he memorized it months ago.

you mention craving a drink in passing? he’s pressing the bottle into your hand within minutes, like it just magically appeared in his pocket.

you linger a second too long in front of a display window, eyes catching on a delicate necklace? its draped around your neck by nightfall.

when katsuki’s your boyfriend, the world bends to your desires. because if you want it, then in his mind, you need it. and katsuki always makes sure you have what you need.

sometimes i'm all alone by myself and out of nowhere bakugo katsuki pops up in my head and i cry i mf cry bcs that man ohh that man ohhhh i love him to death

soft domestic katsuki sighhh

Thinking about Bakugo—all grumpy and exhausted from a grueling day at work. New scars stretch across his rough skin, marks you’ll be sure to kiss better come morning. But right now, you’re peacefully asleep, and he knows it—knows it before he even reaches the front door of your shared home.

He wants so badly to slam that door, to let the pent-up rage from the day crash out of him in a storm of noise and haphazard explosions. He wants to stomp through the house, muddy boots and all. But he doesn’t. Why?

Because his precious baby is sleeping.

So instead, he exhales through clenched teeth and fumbles with the keys, biting back the frustrated grunt that aches in his throat. The door opens with a soft click. He knocks his heavy boots off by the mat, not bothering to untie them, too worn down to care—but careful all the same, because you're upstairs, dreaming peacefully.

He creeps up the stairs, every muscle in his body burning with fatigue. He's got a raging migraine, grime still clinging to his skin, fingers twitching from adrenaline mingled with leftover fury, and a desperate need to touch you. But none of that matters. Not when he sees the little signs you left behind—proof you tried to stay up for him.

A blanket tossed over the couch. A half-melted pint of your favorite ice cream abandoned on the counter. A tipped glass of wine, the red staining the coffee table in a messy splash. It should annoy him—hell, with anyone else, it would—but with you? You're so messy and soft and sweet that he could drown in it. And oh, he would. Happily.

Everything that spills from your mouth is like honey to him. He’s desperate to lap it up, memorize it, let it coat every raw part of him. He makes a silent promise to himself to clean everything up in the morning. Maybe even stop by that café you like on his morning run. The thought soothes something in him.

But for now, his soul aches for you.

His body is breaking down, his head pounding, but his heart won’t let him rest until he’s by your side—until he’s close enough to feel your warmth in the quiet dark. So he continues up the stairs as silently as a man of his stature can manage.

And there you are.

Your pretty, doll-like head rests on the pillow, soft locks spread around you like a halo. Your lips part slightly with every gentle breath, forming a perfect “O,” and your lashes flutter in sleep like you’re dreaming something sweet. He stares, caught in the stillness, overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

He wants to crawl into your arms, bury his face in your neck, and feel the steady beat of your heart against his chest. But he needs to shed the day first—to wash the grime and blood and exhaustion from his bones.

So he moves to the bathroom, runs the water scalding hot, and lets it sting as it washes him clean. He stands there, eyes closed, letting the heat dig into his muscles while images of you flicker behind his eyelids.

When he finally steps out, he dries off, slips on a pair of boxers, and pads back to your room. The bed welcomes him like a sigh, and he lowers himself slowly beside you, careful not to wake you—at least not fully.

But like always, you stir.

Just enough. Your lashes flutter again, and your body shifts instinctively, head turning until your ear rests over his heart. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. You never do.

But both of you lie there, breathing together, listening to the rhythm of each other's heartbeats in the dark.

Because everything is okay, as long as you end the day in the same bed together.

masterlist link here. i lwk hate this bye

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Bitches will find a fictional man attractive and then immediately imagine him in situations where he is losing alarming amounts of blood

flicking katsuki’s forehead when he’s being rude

when you and katsuki decided to learn from the same pro-hero for your repeated work-study, you never would’ve guessed that you would go on patrols just the two of you. no sidekick, no actual pro-hero, just you and the blonde.

the two of you came across a villain and were legally allowed to fight him because of your licenses. after you defeated him with ease, katsuki complained about how it wasn’t a challenge at all, you came across three children.

they all looked related, most likely siblings, and they ran up to you so excitedly. katsuki backed away with a gasp as they jumped and yelled.

a short girl with brown hair, about shoulder length, exclaimed, “the two of you were great out there—“

the two other children agreed, but katsuki yelled, “hey, beat it, kids! you could’ve gotten incredibly hurt just by watching us from afar!” he pointed at a boy with a bright red hat, “you! i saw your neon hat from a short distance! you were way too close for—“

you rolled your eyes and brought your hand up, flicking his forehead. he paused his yelling and slowly turned to you before huffing and looking away. he crossed his arms, and you rubbed his back in a teasing manner as you talked to the children.

a sheepish smile appeared on your face, and you apologized to the children, “sorry about him, he gets a little rude sometimes and doesn’t think about his words. he was just worried for you, that’s all.” you paused, “you forgive him, don’t you?”

one of the children whispered to another, giggling and putting their hand over their mouth to stifle their laughter. they kept glancing at you and katsuki, and the other child wanted in on the secret.

you teased, “aw, come on, what are you guys talking about?”

the kids looked at each other with smiles on their faces before one stated, “he looks at you like how my daddy looks at my mommy!”

you and katsuki’s eyes both widened, your cheeks tinted red as the tips of his ears were also tinted red. he gasped and stared at the children in shock, surprised they would out him like that.

a small hum left your lips, and you pulled the blonde closer, as he was nearly stiff, but you said goodbye to the children, claiming you needed to leave and go back to your mentor’s agency. once they said goodbye, you dragged katsuki back to the agency in silence.

you interrupted the loudness in his head when you asked, “do you think we can get married after we graduate or should we focus on our hero work?”

gosh, you never failed to make his mind blank. he replied with another question, “can’t we do both?”

a giggle escaped your mouth, “i guess we can!”

he argued, “there’s one thing you need to know though. there’s no way in hell i’m having kids.”

you stared at him for a second, seeing the slight turn of his lips, and shook your head, “you’re such a liar, katsuki!”

a chuckle escaped his mouth, knowing you were right.

yuh

The Dress (Bakugou x Fem reader)

Summary: Going to a Hero Gala in a Bakugou inspired dress and surprising him.

Dress inspo↓↓↓

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🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

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🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

"It's perfect!" I sit in the designers office looking at a sketch of the dress he wants to make me for the gala. "He's going to freak when he sees me." I giggle thinking about his reaction.

"I'm glad you like it Mrs. Bakugou. I'll need you to come in next week so my assistant can get your measurements, I'll have samples of fabric for you waiting."

I shake hands with him while my car is being pulled around. "Thank you for agreeing to make my dress. I'm sure you won't disappoint."

I drive home in Katsuki's (our) orange challenger, making sure I don't speed too much. It's the weekend so Katsuki is on call rather than being at the office or patrolling.

I walk into the house and hang my keys and bag up. "Baby?" I hear his voice call out. "It's me, love!" He meets me halfway before kissing the top of my head. "Hey mama. Where you been?"

"Just met up with the designer for my dress for the Hero Gala. You need to get an outfit ready too." He groans and rolls his eyes. "I'll just wear some suit, baby. I don't need nothing special."

"I don't think you mean that. Every event we've gone to, you've looked absolutely delicious. You'll find something." I give him a look that says try and disagree.

"Fine, I'll get with the designer." He grumbles something else that I can't understand. "Thank you, Suki." I kiss him on the cheek.

He smirks and grabs me. "Come 'ere, beautiful." I let out a scream before he kisses me.

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓪...

It's the night of the Gala and I'm with the designer in my changing room. My dress fits like a glove. "God it's gorgeous!" He buttons the last of it up. "Well you look fabulous, darling." He fixes the small train in the back and hands me my gloves.

Flash flash flash

Cameras and interviewers are everywhere. Hero's are everywhere on the carpet talking and laughing while posing for pictures. My entrance down the grand staircase is coming up and I'm nervous.

I adjust my gloves once more and my designer fixes the dress before sending me out. "He's going to freak, darling. You look gorgeous." I nod at the designer before walking out and down the stairs.

"Over here! Mrs. Bakugou! Look here!"

Snap snap snap

Cameras flash all around me, getting all angles of the dress. I pose for a minute before walking forward. Katsuki turns from an interview and does a double take. "Excuse me." He says to the interviewer.

I watch his jaw drop.

"Baby, this is what you were plannin'?" I nod and smile. "You like?" "'Like' baby? God you're phenomenal." He takes my hand and spins me. "You mean the dress is phenomenal." I correct him. "No I mean you're phenomenal."

Flash flash flash

"Mr. & Mrs. Bakugou! Over here!" He takes me by the waist for a couple pictures. I smile at the cameras for a minute before turning to him. When I look up he's already looking at me. "Have you even been looking at the cameras?" I wrap my arms around his neck. "No, been too busy looking at my wife." He kisses me softly. "You look incredible. Like you're mine." He turns us back to the cameras but doesn't let go of me for the rest of the night.

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Note: I hope you enjoyed! I had a hard time picking which dress to choose but I figured if you didn't like it you could imagine a different dress. I hope you did like tho. Lmk if you have any feedback.

Ps: This is an old one I had saved.