.𖥔 ݁ ˖ You Better Get Here, Katsuki! .𖥔 ݁ ˖

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.

Ok, i read ur rules! And say in ur master list that you do mha? If you still do mha, (idk if this is ok to ask) but can you do some fluff + angst with bakugo x fem! Reader, where she has a black magic quirk, and from a very early age she’s heard voices in her head. And they stop for a bit but she heard them agian and freaks out! So bakugo notices shes veeery quiet and asks her whats wrong and she spills the truth about her quirk and how if she over uses it she hears voices telling her to do bad things(NOTHING SERIOUS)

Bakugo and reader have a sorta friendship but with something going on between them? (Mutual pinning)

I HOPE THIS IS OK!!! I read ur rules and i hope this isnt violating them 🙏😭

don’t worry it isn’t lmao! but I’d love to do this so tysm for sending this in! so without further ado. . . enjoy ദ്ദി(•̀ ᗜ <) !!

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

𖤐 synopsis: your quirk makes you different from others..you hear voices that give you malicious thoughts. but, your “friend” bakugou katsuki helps you silence them and explore both of your unspoken feelings for each other.

𖤐 trigger warnings: references to intrusive thoughts, mild psychological distress.

𖤐 pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

𖤐 side note: - - > 2nd part of this story

the voices had been quiet for months. you'd almost forgotten what it was like to have that constant background noise—the whispers that came with your quirk. black magic, they called it. the ability to manipulate shadows and dark energy, bending them to your will. it was powerful, useful even, especially during hero training at u.a.

but the cost was something no one else could see.

use us… we can make you stronger…

the first whisper came during lunch period. you froze mid-bite, your chopsticks hovering over your bento box as the familiar, slithering voice wrapped around your mind.

let us in… just a little more power…

"shut up," you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes tightly.

"the hell did you just say to me?"

your eyes snapped open to find bakugou katsuki standing over your lunch table, his crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion. of course, he'd choose now to approach. the two of you had this… thing. not quite friends, definitely not enemies. training partners who somehow always ended up paired together. late night study sessions that lasted longer than necessary. hands that lingered a second too long when passing notes.

"not you," you said quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. "sorry, i was just—"

he'll think you're crazy if you tell him. everyone always does.

"just what?" bakugou dropped into the seat across from you, his lunch tray clattering against the table. "you've been acting weird all morning. more than usual."

you managed a weak smile. "didn't know you paid such close attention, explosion boy."

he scoffed, but you didn't miss the slight pink tinge on his ears. "hard not to notice when you're spacing out during combat training. you nearly got yourself blasted."

you had almost forgotten about that. earlier in the day, during all might's class, you'd hesitated just a moment too long when the voices first started whispering again. bakugou had pulled his punch at the last second, his explosion detonating harmlessly to your left instead of directly in your face.

he's waiting for an answer. lie. lie.

"i'm fine," you said automatically, the rehearsed response you'd been giving teachers and classmates for years whenever the voices got bad.

bakugou’s eyes narrowed further. "bullshit."

the cafeteria around you buzzed with activity, your classmates laughing and chatting, oblivious to your internal struggle. kirishima and the others had left bakugou alone for once, perhaps sensing he had other plans for lunch period.

he'll leave you too when he knows the truth.

"i said i'm fine," you insisted, pushing your food away. your appetite had vanished the moment the voices returned.

bakugou leaned forward, his voice dropping to a growl that somehow managed to be both threatening and concerned at the same time. "you think i don't notice when something's off with you? we've been training together for months. i know when you're lying."

you stared at him, taken aback by his perceptiveness. it was easy to dismiss bakugo as just an aggressive hothead, but you'd learned there was so much more beneath that explosive exterior. he noticed things. he paid attention.

tell him… see how quickly he runs…

the voice was getting louder, more insistent. you pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to block it out.

"hey." bakugou’s voice softened marginally—as much as bakugou katsuki could soften anything. "let's get out of here."

before you could protest, he had grabbed both your bags and was heading for the exit, clearly expecting you to follow. and despite everything, you did.

he led you to the rooftop, a quiet spot where few students ventured during lunch. the spring air was cool against your skin, helping to clear your head slightly.

"talk," he demanded, dropping his bag and leaning against the railing.

you hesitated, wrapping your arms around yourself. "it's my quirk."

"what about it?"

don't tell him don't tell him don't—

"the voices are back," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "when i use too much of my quirk, they… they start talking to me."

bakugou’s expression didn't change, but he watched you intently, waiting for you to continue.

"they've been quiet for a while," you explained, pacing now. "i thought maybe i'd gotten better at controlling it. but this morning, during training when i used that shadow field technique… they came back."

he thinks you're weak. broken. useless.

you shuddered, and bakugou took a step closer.

"what do they say?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically careful.

you laughed bitterly. "oh, you know. the usual. use more power. do bad things. helpful stuff like that."

bakugou’s face darkened. "have you told anyone? recovery girl? aizawa?"

you shook your head. "my parents know. it's been happening since i was little. the doctors said it's a… side effect. the darkness my quirk controls, it's like it has a consciousness of its own. the more i tap into it, the more it tries to influence me."

he'll report you. they'll expel you. you'll never be a hero now.

"they're talking right now, aren't they?" bakugo asked suddenly.

you froze, surprised again by his insight. "how did you know?"

"your eyes do this thing," he said, gesturing vaguely toward your face. "they get all unfocused, like you're listening to something far away."

you'd never realized you had a tell. the fact that bakugo had noticed made something warm flutter in your chest, momentarily drowning out the malicious whispers.

"yeah," you admitted. "they're telling me you'll think i'm crazy. that i should have kept my mouth shut."

bakugou snorted. "if i thought you were crazy, i wouldn't waste my time training with you."

he's lying to make you feel better. he pities you.

"they're saying you're lying," you said softly.

without warning, bakugou closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. the touch was firm but not painful—grounding.

"look at me," he demanded.

you raised your eyes to meet his fierce crimson gaze.

"do i ever say shit i don't mean? do i ever fucking lie to make people feel better?"

you couldn't help but smile slightly. "no. that's… actually one of the things i like about you."

something flashed across his face—surprise, maybe even pleasure—before he schooled his expression back to determination.

"then believe me when i say this. i don't give a damn about the voices. we all have shit to deal with. my quirk could blow my arms off if i'm not careful. half-and-half has his daddy issues. deku has… well, everything about him. your thing is voices. so what?"

he doesn't understand. no one can understand.

"it's not that simple," you argued. "they get worse when i use more power. and sometimes…" you hesitated, never having admitted this part to anyone before. "sometimes i want to listen."

instead of recoiling in horror as you expected, bakugou’s grip on your shoulders tightened reassuringly.

"of course you do," he said gruffly. "power is tempting. i know that better than anyone. remember the sports festival?"

you did. his rage, his refusal to accept a victory he didn't earn. the way he'd been chained to the podium, wild-eyed and furious.

"but you didn't give in," you pointed out.

"neither will you," he said with absolute certainty. "you're too stubborn."

despite everything, you laughed. "was that a compliment, bakugou?"

he released your shoulders, a hint of that familiar scowl returning. "don't get used to it."

he'll never understand you like we do.

the whisper was softer now, less convincing. you took a deep breath, focusing on bakugo's presence—solid and real in front of you.

"they're quieter when you're around," you admitted. "i don't know why."

a flash of something like pride crossed his face. "good. then i'll just have to stick around more."

your heart skipped a beat. "what are you saying?"

bakugou crossed his arms, looking somewhat uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. "i'm saying next time they start talking, come find me. i'll make enough noise to drown them out."

the offer was so perfectly, uniquely bakugo that it made you smile despite everything. this gruff, explosive boy who showed his care through actions rather than words.

"are you sure?" you asked. "it could happen anytime. middle of the night. during class."

he shrugged. "so? not like i sleep much anyway."

he'll get tired of you. they all do.

"the voices say you'll get tired of helping me," you said quietly.

bakugou stepped forward again, and this time when his hand reached for you, it was to brush a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness.

"let me make something clear," he said, voice low and intense. "i don't do shit i don't want to do. and i don't walk away from challenges."

"is that what i am? a challenge?" you weren't sure if you should be offended or flattered.

the corner of his mouth quirked up in that half-smile that always made your heart race. "you're a pain in my ass. but…" he hesitated, clearly wrestling with what to say next. "you're my pain in the ass."

coming from bakugou, it was practically a declaration of love.

he'll never—

the voice was cut off as bakugou’s hand cupped your cheek, his calloused palm warm against your skin. for once, his perpetual scowl was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

"tell the voices to shut the hell up," he murmured, "because i'm about to kiss you."

your breath caught in your throat. "bakugou…"

"katsuki," he corrected. "if we're doing this, you use my name."

"katsuki," you whispered, testing the feel of it on your tongue.

and then his lips were on yours, firm and warm and insistent. the voices that had plagued you all morning fell completely silent, drowned out by the thundering of your heart and the sensation of bakugou—no, katsuki—pulling you closer.

when you finally broke apart, the silence in your mind was blissful. whether it would last, you couldn't know. the voices would return eventually. but for now, with bakugou’s arms around you and his forehead pressed against yours, they couldn't reach you.

"they're gone," you breathed in wonder.

he smirked, that cocky confidence returning. "told you i could drown them out."

the bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of lunch period.

"we should get back," you said reluctantly.

bakugou didn't loosen his hold. "skip with me."

your eyes widened. "skip class? you never skip class."

"first time for everything," he shrugged. "besides, we need to figure out how to deal with those voices. might take all afternoon."

"and how exactly are we going to do that?" you asked, unable to keep the smile from your face.

his answering grin was both wicked and tender. "i have some ideas. but first—" he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours softly, "let's make sure they stay quiet a little longer."

as you melted into his kiss, you couldn't hear a single whisper—just the beating of two hearts and the promise that whatever darkness came, you wouldn't face it alone.

taglist: [open]

mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @lotusstarr @tulippanes @gh0st-g1rll @luvseraphh

© property of kenzdolls

Hey darling! Lovely to see you back, your writings were a part of my daily routine as it serves me some comfort for the day! 😌💞

Was wondering if I may request a katsuki bakugou x reader (long term relationship) where the relationship kinda hit a plateau and everything irritated him a lot, however, reader takes in all the (uncalled and unnecessary) mean words said by katsuki whilst trying not to get mean with him either until one day, reader just silently cried and he noticed it, just pause and reflected on his actions and how he has been treating reader lately (ending with some comfort if possible, thank you!)

I noticed you do titles for your writings, if I may suggest; “Haven’t I given enough?” Of course, if you have an alternate title better suited for this, by all means do use it! ☺️

Haven’t I Given Enough?

The days had blurred into routine. Wake up, train, eat, work, sleep—repeat. Somewhere along the way, your relationship with Katsuki had settled into a monotonous rhythm, neither moving forward nor back. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy. You loved him, and you knew he loved you. But lately… lately, everything seemed to set him off.

“The hell are you staring at?” he snapped one evening as you looked at him across the dinner table.

You blinked, startled. “Nothing, I was just—”

“Tch. Then quit lookin’ at me like I did somethin’ wrong.” He shoved a bite of food into his mouth aggressively, shoulders tense.

You exhaled softly, looking down at your own plate. He had been like this for weeks—short-tempered, irritable, lashing out over the smallest things. You had chalked it up to stress. He had always been intense, but this was different.

At first, you tried to brush it off, meet his frustration with patience. You told yourself he wasn’t truly mad at you, just taking his exhaustion out on the person closest to him. But no matter how much understanding you offered, his words still cut.

“Can you stop hovering? I can do my own shit.”

“Damn it, Y/N, do you ever stop talking?”

“Fuck’s sake, do you have to be so damn sensitive about everything?”

Each one was a tiny wound, adding up until they felt like bruises beneath your skin. You swallowed the hurt each time, refusing to snap back, even when his words stung. But tonight, as you sat across from him in silence, something inside you cracked.

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until you saw his gaze shift, his chewing slowing as his eyes locked onto your face.

You weren’t sobbing, weren’t making a sound—just sitting there, staring at your untouched plate, tears slipping down your cheeks no matter how much you willed them to stop.

For the first time in weeks, the air between you stilled.

“…The fuck,” Katsuki muttered, his voice quiet, almost bewildered. His brows furrowed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Are you… cryin’?”

You pressed your lips together, hating how weak you must have looked. You shook your head slightly, but another tear slipped free, betraying you.

Katsuki put his fork down with a sharp clatter. You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

And that was when it hit him.

The way you just sat there, silent, shoulders slightly hunched—not arguing back, not calling him out, not pushing him away—just… taking it. The weight of every harsh word, every frustrated sigh, every unfair remark.

His stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

He ran a rough hand through his hair, guilt crawling up his throat. When the hell had he become this person? The kind who made you cry? The kind who took his bad days out on the one person who never deserved it?

His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table. You stiffened slightly when he moved, but before you could say anything, Katsuki was kneeling beside your seat, one of his calloused hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

“…Baby.” His voice was softer now, strained with something raw. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes at the warmth of his palm, inhaling shakily. He had said a lot of mean things lately, but this—this felt genuine.

“I didn’t mean to…” Katsuki swallowed hard, his thumb brushing a stray tear away. “Didn’t mean to be a fuckin’ asshole. I just—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me lately. Work’s been… I dunno, shit. But that’s no excuse. You—” His grip on your cheek tightened, just slightly, like he needed you to hear him. “You don’t deserve that. Any of it.”

Your lip trembled. You wanted to say it was okay, that you understood, but the truth was… it hurt.

“…I know you don’t mean to,” you whispered, finally speaking, voice fragile. “But it still hurts, Katsuki.”

The way his whole body tensed at your words was almost heartbreaking. Like he hadn’t fully realized just how much he had been hurting you.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—” He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes—not at you, but at himself. “I love you,” he said, voice firm but filled with something vulnerable. “I don’t say it enough, but I do. And I swear, I’ll do better.”

A shaky breath left your lips, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Slowly, you reached up, covering his hand with yours.

“…I love you too,” you murmured, voice thick. “Just… don’t push me away like that again.”

His throat bobbed as he nodded. “Yeah. I won’t.”

And for the first time in weeks, Katsuki didn’t just hear you—he listened.

katsuki bakugou with a s/o who has a healing quirk

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

tags: mention of pain & injuries, argument with bakugou, reader's quirk hurts them, hurt/comfort, happy ending

bakugou and you were classmates before you started dating and he was roughly aware of how your quirk worked

however, just like with most other people around him, he didn't actually pay as much attention to the details of your quirk

which is why he's quite surprised when he finds out that your quirk has a downside to it: whenever you heal someone, you feel their pain!

bakugou has always thought you were weaker than him, due to your quirk only being useful for support, but that revelation makes him rethink everything

you're much tougher than he gave you credit for! you must've endured so much pain, without even showing any of it. you were more admirable than any of his other classmates…

but bakugou also began to look back on all the times he got unnecessarily hurt and you were there to help him

he thought the only person he'd harm with his careless attitude while fighting would be himself. but you were hurt just as much, as you healed him up every time, no matter the injury…

bakugou can't help but get angry at himself, for being such a fool and getting you hurt with his own carelessness!

but since he isn't very good at expressing his feelings, he ends up taking his anger out on you, the one person who truly didn't deserve it

he starts yelling at you, that you need to stop using your stupid quirk and that you did more harm than good!

though when you end up crying and tell him to leave, he quickly regrets his words…

the same day on that evening, he shows up at your room with flowers and chocolate, looking guiltily and apologizing for everything he said

luckily for him, you accept his apology and bakugou promises to never yell at you again like this, as well as to be careful from now on, so you won't have to use your quirk on him anymore!

im begging for you to make a drummer bakugou based on that "i hate attention" video on tiktok of the girl on his lap

➻ omg i don't know which tiktok u mean i'll be so real, i think i might've found the right one but if i'm wrong i'll rework it ^-^ just lmk!

notes: nsfw themes, 16+, quirkless!au, band!au

context: katsuki bakugo is a drummer in a band, with jirou (singer), kirishima (basist) and kaminari (lead guitarist). y/n is jirou's best friend. masterlist

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

katsuki bakugo was always full of surprises. from the great effort he took into spiking his hair, to the deep black eyeliner he smudged on his waterline, it seemed like every week, you found out something new about him. originally, he was simply a hot-headed classmate who sat two rows in front of you, only interested in body-building and heavy music, while you were seemingly distant and dry.

so you were shocked when you found out your best friend, kyoka jirou, was in a band with him. sure, you should've expected it. while his hair remained naturally blonde, he often liked to semi-dye the tips black, while painting his nails and keeping them short. it also shouldn't have surprised you that he was the drummer. from the flexing of his biceps to the therapeutic anger-relief of hitting the drum skins, it was undoubtedly a talent suited for him. and you couldn't deny he looked hot playing them.

the band contained him, jirou, kaminari & kirishima, yet your eyes would only lay on the spikey blonde. he had such an intense stage presence, his crimson eyes hunting the audience like prey as he showed off his strength and aura. it was embarrassing to admit to jirou that not only were you going to her gigs for her, but also for bakugo.

"y/n," jirou muttered, straightening her hair before a gig. she was sat sprawled in front of a dirty mirror, cigarette hanging from her mouth as she looked towards you. you were lying on her bed, scrolling though social media while you waited for the group to start. you were vip, of course. "could you do something for me for the gig?"

"sure, anything for you," you winked, glancing towards her before back at your phone.

"we're performing a song that's kinda trending at the moment. we're wanting to, you know, get seen on instagram, as cringe as it is," she explained, standing up and rolling up her knee-high socks. "but the trend includes someone sitting on the drummer during the solo."

"right," you answered confidently, roughly knowing what trend she meant. "and what are you wanting me to do? find someone who'll do it?"

she went silent, a small, smug grin on her lips as she took a long, drawn out inhale. "no, i want you to do it."

***

and that's exactly how you ended up on stage. albeit in front of around 450 people, you were still on stage. with lights on you. and a man's LAP to stradle.

you'd only agreed after multiple pleas from jirou. apparently the majority of girls they auditioned just didn't get along with bakugo's rough nature and snotty attitude, and considering he felt awkward himself with these women, they'd had to narrow it down to people he knew. and that just happened to be you.

the music was blaring around you, a cover of type o negative being slammed on guitar and getting the crowd wild. it was becoming your time, and you began to dance towards the drummer, who was so entranced by his own performance that he barely saw you coming. heart in your throat but showing off a false confidence, you sultured over, before enthusiastically throwing yourself on top of bakugo. you heard him grunt under his breath, attempting to get comfortable while thrashing the drumset. by this point, he was topless. the heat of the atmosphere and humidity had all four artists hot and bothered. it didn't bother you, however, as you were in awe by his beauty up close.

"sorry," you muttered under your breath, going beat red in the face as you performed a lap dance on him, your hands clasped on his shoulders as you turned your face to the crowd, a sly look on your face as you watched audience members fien jealousy.

"don't be," he answered, his eyes shooting daggers through yours as he stared at you. his hands continued to thrash, fingers brushing against your skin whenever he could. "do i look like i'm complaining, freak?"

you bit your lip as you realised he was into it, a slight hue slithering over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. it bought you an unimaginable confidence and, being recorded by none other than ashido, you put on a show. bouncing, pretending to kiss him, playing with his hair... anything sultry, and you were doing it. he kept his eyes on you, and you noticed his eyes slip down your top occasionally as he checked you out. sure, maybe you were all he could see, but he was being blatant. and you were sure you could feel movement beneath you...

the cue for you to get off the stage was coming up, however; the song was coming to an end, so they could finish up the set and go for drinks. you'd been told by jirou to do something drastic, something memorable as you left, but considering you and bakugo had performed a softcore lapdance, you weren't sure where to go from there. you looked at him desperately, unsure what to do, and he 'tchd'.

"just follow my lead," he muttered, glaring at jirou before leaning forwards. you followed, your back now against the bass drum and the high toms. your eyes widened as he threw the sticks behind him, roughly took your chin in his hands, and kissed you.

your arms draped around his shoulders, melting into the kiss you'd only dreamed of. he smelled like deep caramel and musk, and his hands scaled up your shirt to feel your skin. he'd made out like kissing you was a chore, when he seemed to be enjoying every moment. you heard jirou scream in delight, saying something stupid to the crowd you didn't fully hear. but once you were let go by the blonde, he rolled his eyes and pulled you off the kit.

"now get the fuck out of my sight," he said loudly, keeping the shit-eating persona up for the audience as he gestured you off the stage. completely stunned from the whole experience, you nodded as you tried to stop your legs from turning to jelly.

"mhm!" you answered, completely unable to make eye-contact with the man. but, even so, you felt him grab your arm. turning, he pulled you to his ear, whispering so the audience couldn't hear. and his words made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"meet me in the back. twenty minutes."

an. i hope this is ok for u :)

hey ash can i please request soemthing? a katsuki bakugo x female reader they are married and reader is like extremely weak? like physically and she got pregnant-a high risk one the type where the doctor would say to consider a abortion? something like that? you dont have to do this Just a request from a fellow follower love your works they are chaotic and love them :)

Hii mll♡

Of you can request anything I appreciate ittt♡

I hope this is up to your expectations♡

---

"Stronger Than You Know"

Bakugo had never imagined himself the marrying type—at least not back when he was the hotheaded teen with a short fuse and a tunnel vision for victory. But somehow, you had wormed your way into his life with gentle hands and soft words, the exact opposite of everything he used to think he needed.

He used to think strength was everything.

But then he married you.

You weren’t strong like him. Not in the way that counted for most people. Your body was fragile, your energy limited, and your constitution was nothing short of worrying. Some days, he’d carry you from the bed to the couch because your muscles trembled too much. He always did it without complaint, though he grumbled under his breath just to keep up appearances. You’d laugh and call him a softie, and he’d call you a brat.

But he never once resented it. Not once.

Because you were the only one who could make him feel calm. Needed. Loved.

So when you told him you were pregnant, his reaction was… complicated.

He stared at you for a full minute before the words even processed. You were sitting on the couch in one of his old shirts, fingers wringing the hem, face pale and eyes a little wet. You’d looked scared—not of him, but for yourself. For the tiny, forming life inside of you.

And he felt like the ground tilted beneath him.

You were already so delicate. The idea of you carrying a child—his child—through nine months of hellish strain made his stomach twist in fear.

Of course, the hospital visit only made things worse.

“The pregnancy is high-risk,” the doctor said, voice carefully neutral. “Your body might not handle it. If complications arise, it could be fatal… for both of you.”

You’d gripped Bakugo’s hand then. He could still feel how cold your fingers were. The doctor kept talking, listing options, risks, and the word he hated more than anything in that moment: abortion.

Bakugo didn't speak. He didn’t trust himself to.

The moment you two left the office, you waited until you were in the safety of his car to finally whisper, “Katsuki… what should we do?”

He didn’t answer right away. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“Do you… want to keep it?” he finally asked, voice low.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I want to try. Even if I’m scared.”

He looked at you for a long time. Your face was full of fear and hope, all tangled together. You weren’t strong—at least not in the way people measured it. But he had never seen someone braver.

“You’re not doing this alone,” he said, turning fully to face you. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. I’ll be there for every damn second.”

You gave him a watery smile, and he kissed you before you could say anything else.

---

The following months were hard.

You were in and out of the hospital more times than either of you could count. Bakugo adjusted his patrol schedule, sometimes canceling it altogether just to sit beside you during check-ups. The staff got used to seeing the pro hero sitting with you, his scarred hands cradling yours, whispering quiet reassurances that didn’t match his usual brash image.

There were nights he’d sit beside your bed, wide awake while you slept restlessly. He’d talk to your belly when you were too tired to stay conscious, his voice low and steady.

“Your mom’s the toughest damn person I know, you hear me?” he’d mutter, fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “She’s stronger than any hero out there.”

Sometimes the fear crept in.

Like when you collapsed while walking across the kitchen.

Or when the doctors said your blood pressure was too high again.

Or when they prepared an emergency bag “just in case.”

But you always pulled through. Even when your body screamed and the world felt like it was stacked against you, you kept going.

Because you had a reason now. A heartbeat you heard on fuzzy monitors. A future wrapped in warmth and baby clothes folded neatly in drawers. And Katsuki’s hand, always there. Always strong. Always steady.

---

The birth wasn’t easy. It was a blur of beeping machines, sterile white lights, and a level of panic Katsuki never wanted to experience again.

They rushed you in after you started bleeding—too much, too fast.

He wasn’t allowed in the OR.

He punched a wall.

Paced like a caged animal.

Nearly lost it when a nurse asked him to “stay calm.”

But then—

A baby’s cry.

And the nurse came out.

“A girl,” she said. “She’s healthy. And your wife… she made it. She’s going to be okay.”

Bakugo didn’t remember sitting down, but he did.

Didn’t remember the tears, but they came.

When they let him in, you were pale, exhausted, barely awake—but smiling. And in your arms was the tiniest, angriest baby he had ever seen.

“She’s got your scowl,” you whispered hoarsely.

He looked down at the two of you—his whole world in one hospital bed—and something in him broke open.

He kissed your forehead.

“You scared the shit out of me, idiot.”

You laughed weakly. “Worth it?”

He looked at the baby again, who had just punched the air in protest.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, it was.”

Boom! Goes the Dynamight [Bakugo] (Angst)

(One-shot 9/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Bakugo x OC, Katsuki Bakugo, Dynamight, Pro-Hero Bakugo, Pro-Hero OC, Pregnant OC, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, One Explosion Boy, Live Grenades, You'll Understand When You Read It, Bakugo Sometimes Just Be Feelin' Feels, And OC Does Too

Word Count: 1,056 words

Summary: When Ichijiku finds out she's expecting, she worries about how her boyfriend, Bakugo, will react to the news and how it will affect their hero journeys.

Content Warning: An "f" bomb is dropped and there is mild foreplay (but it doesn't get very far).

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Katsuki says life is like a live grenade. It’s ready at any moment to explode and see whether or not you’re worth your weight in nitroglycerine. Thus far his words ring true. Our lives have thrown us plenty of live grenades and tested the very sweat of our palms.

Like when a popular tabloid claimed I was cheating on him, or when I had a cancer scare a few weeks before our anniversary. For a time, it seemed as though we were living in a minefield, each of us skirting around problems and trying to minimize collateral damage as hardships stalked our every move.

Now? Now we’ve finally managed to find some semblance of balance. Katsuki works hard to be the best at his job as a pro hero, and I’m content being a homemaker and underground hero. 

So when another grenade gets tossed at me in the form of two lines on a pregnancy test in our master bathroom, a thousand different worries trickle through my mind. We’re having a baby! What are we going to need? What if I mess something up? Will I be a good mother? What if the baby hates me? Excitement shoves some of these worries to the side and even brings a smile to my face as I spin around, thinking about how cute Katsuki will look holding our child.

And then I stop.

Kids have always been a possibility, but not a possibility Katsuki has proposed in conversation, yet. Though I’ve always hoped and planned to have children in my future with him, anxiety chokes me up when I pull out my phone and just stare at the screen.

My fingers hover over the keypad as my thoughts try to coax me into it. C’mon. No need to be scared. We may not have talked about it, so he’ll be a little surprised. But he can’t be angry when he’s not protecting his package from procreating. I exhale, and then decide against it as ugly voices from my past convince me he won’t be happy.

Not to mention, being a pro hero is a lot of work. How can I add something onto his already-full plate right now? Nausea turns in my stomach and distracts me until I’ve hurled my lunch in the toilet.

Despite my irrational fear that he’ll jump ship and leave me, I remind myself that we’ve been married for four years. While my frantic heartbeat dulls to a steady buzz, I brainstorm other, cuter ways to tell him. Perhaps a bottle of Prego? Too silly. Maybe a Father’s Day card? Not thoughtful enough.

Ideas swirl around in my head, but I’m no closer to an answer when I fall asleep on the couch. 

. . . . .

Katsuki knows I’m hiding something as the weeks pass. I’m a little more shaky around him, a little more skittish. I can’t seem to find the right time to tell him the news. 

But there’s no escaping him after a challenging day of hero work. He’s always more needy after a hard day. When he goes feral there’s no keeping my distance. We barely make it into my apartment when he’s got me flattened in his arms, sprinkling kisses anywhere his lips come into contact. 

“Tonight, Tiger? You’re gonna beg for it, baby.” He grounds out in my ear, already pressing me against him with sparkling eyes. 

“K-Katsuki, I need to tell you something first.” I breathe, knowing that I have to tell him now before he pulls off my clothes and figures out himself. I’m hardly showing at all, but the smallest of bumps is noticeable under my clothes.

And I know Katsuki. He’ll notice.

“It can wait. Damn, I’ve been waiting all day!” He shuffles us over to the couch where he starts kissing from my legs and working his way up my thighs. I use my knees to shuffle him up so I can grip his chin and make him look at me. “Hey!” He growls as he catches my expression and his eyes relax again. “What’s gotten into you today?”

 The nerves return full swing as I think about how to say it. I feel like it needs to be special, like I have to remind him I’m worthy of him and his child. And there’s still that small chance in the back of my mind that he’ll leave. I don’t want you to leave me, Katsuki. I don’t know what I’ll do if you do… Have a little faith, Little One, he’s been loyal thus far.

“Did something happen?” He immediately starts making assumptions as his hands rub circles under my shirt. “Whoever it was I’ll…” Abruptly he stops, and I freeze.

I expect the shock on his face and it terrifies me. He raises up my shirt and I let him, being so quiet I can hear the throbbing beat of my heart. His thumb rubs over my stomach. Looking at it, there doesn’t seem to be much change, but feeling it…he looks up at me with recognition in his eyes.

And then the grenade explodes.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?!” 

“Don’t you yell at me, Katsuki Bakugo!” I growl, pulling my legs up to my chest and scooting away from him. Such a small emotion seems to flood me with an intense outburst. Tears wash my hands and the comforter. Katsuki seems so far away even though he’s right beside me. “I didn’t tell you because I knew that you’d get angry like this! I knew that you’d yell at me! I was trying to think of the perfect way to tell you…but I was scared you’d react like this!” My breathing elevates, my body starts shaking, and my voice raises a few octaves.

I don’t notice any of it. I don’t give Katsuki any time to respond. When he opens his mouth, my emotions skyrocket again.

“What did you want me to do, Katsuki?! I couldn’t tell you because I was scared that you’d tell me to get rid of it because it wasn’t planned. And I won’t!” I rake my hands through my hair, bearing my teeth at him.

The room is silent for a few moments. My veins boil with unnecessary rage that bleeds into cold panic when I worry my anger will cause him to turn his nose up at me.

“Are you crazy?!” He grits his teeth at me. “I’ve told you once, I’ll never take an action that ends someone’s life! You think I'd get rid of my own kid?!” 

He’s so fast. Always has been. In the next moment, he’s got my arms pinned at my sides and my lips trapped in a hard kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are softer but he still snarls.

“Stop talking nonsense. I’m not leaving you and we’re not getting rid of the baby.” He puts a hand at my neck, sending my pulse thrumming underneath him as I start piecing his response together. “Don’t you dare think I’d be too weak to take on the challenge of my own child. Do I look that pitiful to you?”

Relief rushes through me as I finally let out a choked sob and cup his face in my hands. Then I pull him close and bury my face in his neck, giving myself a moment to regulate, before I answer.

“No, Katsuki. You don’t.”

Want More Bakugo? Try: Fire in the Hole - Sasses, Spice, and Everything Nice

Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

You’re My Favorite Flower

Pro-Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x (Fem) Reader

——

~ I’ve been feeling a little down about myself lately, picking myself apart more than I should. But somewhere along the way, I remembered—I’m beautiful just the way I am. That little moment of clarity inspired this fic. It’s soft, a little raw, and full of love (with a sprinkle of smut, tehehe). I hope it reminds you of your own worth too, in some small way. Please be kind to yourself—because in someone else’s eyes, you’re literally everything. Enjoy, lovelies.

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

The house is quiet when you get home. Bakugou’s still at work, off saving the world while you can’t even save yourself from a few damn tweets.

You didn’t go looking for it. It found you—as it always does. Some fan post talking about Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Dynamight. Gorgeous. Powerful. Untouchable.

And then… the comments.

——

@MtLadyMami25 :

“He’s so hot omg I wish he’d date Mirko or Mt. Lady or someone badass like him.”

@BakubroFan648:

“His girlfriend is cute but I feel like he needs someone stronger, y’know?”

@quirky_shins11 :

“No offense but she’s not on his level.”

——

You lock your phone, eyes burning.

It isn’t the first time. But tonight, it hits different. Maybe because you’ve already been feeling off. Maybe because he’s been working so late. Maybe because some small part of you believes it. You find yourself in the mirror again. Picking. Prodding. Judging.

Why is your stomach softer than it should be?

Have your thighs always had that many stretch marks?

Why don’t you look like those pro heroines with their sculpted bodies and perfect confidence?

What do you even bring to the table?

You whisper it to your reflection like it’s a sin, “Why do you love me?”

You don’t realize he’s home until you hear the door click shut. His heavy boots pause. Then you hear him call, “Baby? You home?”

Your breath catches. You stare at yourself like you’ve just been caught doing something wrong. You try your best to wipe the tears away but your swollen face and blood shot eyes gave you away.

He finds you in the bathroom, standing like a ghost in front of the mirror. His brow furrows instantly. “Hey… what’s goin’ on?” His voice is low, careful, and it just breaks you more.

You bite your lip, look away. “Nothing just had something in my eye, i’ve been trying to pick it out” he looked at you as if you had two heads.“Bullshit,” he says before you can finish, stepping toward you—but you keep going. “I Just… I saw some stuff online. People talking. Saying I’m not enough for you. That I’m not strong. Not good enough. You belong with Mt.Lady or maybe even someone like Mirko” you finally admit.

there was a pause he just looked at you. Your voice is barely more than a whisper when you finally ask, “Why do you love me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at you—like that question hurt more than anything ever could.

“Katsuki,” you whisper again, tears clinging to your lashes, “Why me? People say you could be with anyone. Someone stronger. Someone who fits with you. Someone like—”

“Don’t,” he growls, stepping forward like he’s physically chasing away your words. “Don’t say that shit ever again.”

You lower your gaze, ashamed.

“Look at me.” His voice softens, and he tilts your chin up. “You think I give a fuck what people tweet about me? About us?”

You shrug. “I just see it all the time… people saying I’m sweet but not enough. That you deserve someone on your level. A hero. A fighter. Not just… me.”

He exhales hard, jaw clenching.

“Baby,” he says lowly, stepping closer, “I’d blow up fucking cities for you.”

Your breath catches.

“Swear to god,” he continues. “If it meant you’d never feel like this again—if I could burn every thought like that outta your pretty head—I’d do it. No hesitation.”

You blink fast, heart thudding.

“You wanna know why I love you?”

You nod, silently.

“Because you’re real. You’re soft in a world that’s sharp. You’re fuckin’ light in all the bullshit I deal with. You make me feel like I’m more than just some weapon. You heal me, every damn day, just by being here.” He pulls you against him, hands firm on your waist. “I don’t need a hero. I need you.”

He leans in then, lips pressing to your temple, cheek, jaw—slow and reverent.

And then, without a word, he starts to undress you. His hands don’t rush. They linger. Like he’s learning your body all over again. Shirt first—lifted over your head, his eyes not leaving yours. Then he slips your pants down, kneeling as he does. His fingers trace every dip, every curve, like they’re sacred. When you’re left in just your bra and panties, he pulls you toward the mirror.

You tense. “Suki…”

“Shh,” he murmurs, standing behind you, one hand sliding under your bra to cup your breast while the other rests low on your stomach. “Look.”

You do—hesitant, but you do. His chin rests on your shoulder. “This stomach,” he says, squeezing the soft flesh gently. “Mine. I love it.”

His hand trails lower, grabbing your hip. “These hips. Fuckin’ perfect. You know what they feel like under me? How they move when you ride me? Drives me insane.”

He slides your bra up and off, both hands coming up to cup your tits.

“These,” he whispers, kissing your neck. “So fuckin’ soft. So pretty. And I love the way they bounce when you’re under me. You ever see how wild you make me, baby?”

Your breath hitches. His hands are worshiping you like he’s trying to rewrite how you see yourself. He lifts your chin slightly, making you meet your own gaze again. “And this face,” he says softly. “I could spend the rest of my life memorizing it. The way your lips pout when you’re sleepy. The way your nose crinkles when you laugh. The way your eyes hold all that kindness that I don’t have.” You feel tears welling again—but they’re different now. Warmer. Full.

“You,” he says, brushing his lips against your ear, “are the only thing that makes this fucked up life feel like home.” Then his hand slides down—slow, deliberate. Across your stomach. Beneath your panties. You gasp as his fingers find you, already wet for him.

“And one of the things they’ll never know…” he says with a smirk, voice gravelly as he nips at your neck, “is how amazing your pussy feels.” You whimper as he strokes you, watching your reflection as your knees go weak against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “Look how pretty you are like this. All fuckin’ mine.” He guides your legs apart just slightly more, still behind you, fingers teasing your entrance.

“You think Mt. Lady could make me feel like this?” he murmurs darkly. “Think Mirko could pull sounds outta me like you do?”

His hand works you slow, lazy—like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Let me show you,” he whispers against your skin, “exactly what I see when I look at you.”

And he does.

Over and over.

Until there’s not a single cruel thought left in your head—just the feeling of him, the weight of his love, and the echo of his voice promising…

“You’re everything to me.”

Not Just Friends - M.List -

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

The Beginning blurb

Headcanons : just explains your relationship / his side of things more.

Prologue : 3.2k words (highly recommend reading this, fills some gaps)

Part 1 : 3.6k words

Part 2 : 3.4k words

Part 3 : 4.3k words

Part 4 : 3.8k words

Part 5 : 10k words

Part 6 : 5.4k words

Part 7 : 8.1k words

Part 8 : 2.6k words

Part 9 : 5.1k words

Part 10 : 3.1k words

Part 11 : 6.7k words

Part 12 : 2.2k words

Part 13 : 3..4k words Final Part

Thank you for all the support! It's not the best but I hope you all enjoyed!

Everything is also unedited and not reread

If you want a tag list, please comment or message/ask me <3 (I hit tag limit so idk what to do now)

Any and all post of mine relating to this story can be found in the first tag of each post: #not just friends katsuki

BkDk | Getting Together | Miscommunication | Not Actually Unrequited Love | Light Angst | Love Confession | Pinning!Bakugou Katsuki

How To Fall Out Of Love With Your Best Friend: A Ten-Step Guide by delightfulduplicity

Katsuki couldn’t love Izuku. He didn’t deserve to.

So he did what he did best, and he made a plan.

A ten-step plan to fall out of love with his best friend, to be exact.