Imjustagirlwholuvstoread - #needthat

i chose this cyclone with you — k.bakugou

cw: so cringe. this is very old but i had to get the ball rolling cause i wanna start posting more soon. forgive me if it's sappy i genuinely don't remember half of what went on and i refuse to reread it so i don't leave it to rot ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

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He'd dispute the notion growing up, but — if it shouldn't have already been obvious from the get go — Katsuki always knew there was something wrong with him.

Still, it's a bit too much. To keep watch over you while you sleep — eyes mapping the soft expression you wear in repose, then flitting down to survey the rise and fall of your chest — all while he's supposed to be on his morning run. And, by now, over with it too. Hitting the shower and scrubbing grime off his chest, his skin tender from the heat of it all.

Instead, he's acting all creepy like a stalker. Unmanly, Kirishima would comment if he were here. And for what?! To trace his index finger against your hairline, utilizing it as a defense machine to push back strands of hair that threaten to disturb your slumber?

Fuck. He's personifying strands of hair now too? The fuck!?

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,"' he hisses.

You grumble underneath the insult, stirring from the noise, and he can't help the way his lips purse in silence, as if in reflex. His spine straightening in apprehension, complacent to the object of his complaints.

His eyebrows furrow at the realization. He's gotten soft — weak.

No, not weak. He isn't weak in the slightest. Far from it, actually. But he'd softened up where he used to harden and he can't help but feel a little stupid for it.

Learning this stings like a thousand wasps. It prickles his skin until red creeps into his cheeks and springs up to the tip of his ears.

Fucking fuck. Shitty fucking… Fuck!

"Um—" Disheveled in all your morning glory, you lay beneath him, eyes blown wide. You look messy as fuck — dried up drool gracing one corner of your lip — yet somehow also the most beautiful sight he could possibly come across before starting his day. A danger. "—Katsuki, are you okay?"

Fuck his life. "Shut the hell up."

You stretch your limbs out, toes curling in on themselves. "That's not fair now, is it?" You yawn. "I just woke up." Then, another. "Hey, help me out here."

Like clockwork, Katsuki latches onto the sides of your waist. He doesn't need to be told twice. You let him hold you as your back arches, unraveling every knot that twisted itself into you during the night. When you let out a final yawn, blinking away traces of sleep in your eyes, he's already onto you.

"No, Kats." You press a palm flat against his mouth.

The look he gives you is incredulous, almost accusatory.

"Morning breath," you remind. "Let me brush my teeth first."

He licks the plain of your hand, as if to say no. You draw it back in response, grimacing at the wetness and how smug he looks throughout it all. Still, you don't even have enough time to squeeze in a word of chide before he's onto you again, pushing you against the weight of the mattress, searing hot kisses to your mouth. Like an imprint.

You laugh between each one of them, giggling as he presses you further against the bed. "I just woke up," you breathe, your back now sunken into the mattress. "I've had enough bedtime."

"Shut up," he says.

You click your tongue, strike a flick against his forehead.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you."

He hisses at the contact. And while you have enough grace to feel horrible enough to stroke at it, the inkling dissipates in an instant. "You don't feed me," he cavils. "Hell, you don't even know shit about cooking. Wanna talk about how you fucked up—Oi!"

"Don't bite. Stupid dog."

"HA?"

You giggle once more, and the sound of mirth tumbling from your lips is liquid gold to his ears. You spring up to lay against him, head on his shoulder, arms encasing his frame.

(What's yours is mine — he always said. Surely, what's his should be yours, too. And by extension, that means his personal space is for you to intrude on.)

"You're so needy, Katsuki," you coo.

"'Am not," he grates. "The hell…"

He clearly isn't. Judging by the way he leans into you anyway, nosing at your neck and tracing the outline of his teeth as a preamble to sinking them into the flesh. Gently, of course. He's no vampire — and as much as everyone seems to think otherwise, he's no heathen, either. Still, your skin is soaked in sweat and you'd really like that bath…

"Hey," you poke. "Let me wash up before you eat me."

He grouses, rolling his eyes as he peels himself off you, murmuring something along the lines of big talk for someone who doesn't even wash her damn fruit under his breath. And in spite of the request being made in your name, you let out whines of protest when he untangles your limbs from his.

"You asked for this, damn woman."

"Ueegghhh."

"The hell?!"

You blink, beady eyes pleading.

"Carry me to the bathroom?"

You raise your arms, gazing at him expectantly. He dismantles all hope in you when he tells you there's a fat chance in hell you'd be getting princess treatment now — though, more sodden with attitude.

"Then when?" you ask, pouting.

The silent imploration doesn't go over his head.

It's practically a whine. Of fucking course it is. With how damned spoiled you are and how often he enables it — the answer to that being always — it's no surprise. Still, as much as he'd vehemently repudiate it in the face of another, Katsuki's guilty as charged, already hooking his arms behind your knees to carry you bridal style.

You make up for it, at least. Cycling through your pre shower routine before stripping him down and pulling him in with you. And even if he has to scold you for getting shampoo in his eyes and forcing him to scrub your back, he supposes it's fine. When you kiss him afterwards with no restraint, murmuring several sweet thank you, katsuki's against the shell of his ear, he can't say he minds too much.

(He'll be your knight in shining armor for as long as you need it. Defender of foreheads and provider of back scrubs and whatever the hell comes with the terms and conditions of being a good boyfriend. Fuck, he'll even soften up however much you need him to, so long as it guarantees he can spend mornings like this forever — with you.)

Crédits artist @ng_a10

teehee, shopping with bf! katsuki for the first time is a whole new experience.

you dragged him to the mall under the pretense of just browsing. katsuki grumbles, complains the whole car ride, mutters something about how he'd rather "eat glass" than spend a weekend in a fluorescent-lit hellscape.

but the second you tug on his wrist and smile up at him, he shuts up and follows. what you don’t expect?

how much of a problem he becomes the second you enter the fitting room.

you're barely five minutes into trying on outfits when it starts. you step out, smoothing down a dress, turning side to side in the mirror.

you barely manage a “what do you think?” before he drops the phone he wasn’t even looking at and sits up straighter.

“turn around.”

you blink. “huh?”

“lemme see the back.”

you do. he whistles low, then squints. “try that in the other color.”

you raise a brow. “oh, so now you care?”

“tch. i care when it looks like that on you.”

from then on, it’s over. every. single. outfit. he's like that.

“yeah, do a little spin.”

“too tight in the chest. not that i’m complaining.”

“damn, sweets. you tryna kill me or sumthin'?”

he lounges on the little bench like he owns the place—legs spread, arms crossed, eyes locked on you like you’re center stage and he’s the only judge that matters. the store’s mirror might show you the front, but he’s giving full commentary on the back. and the sides. and the neckline.

he’s unreasonably hot while doing it too. hood half-up, jaw sharp, legs spread like he’s got thoughts about every skirt you shimmy into.

and the worst part? you start playing it up.

slipping out of the fitting room with a little strut. spinning slow just to watch his jaw tighten. running your hands down your sides, real innocent, then pretending not to notice the way he swears under his breath.

“you’re lucky we’re in public,” he grits when you try on a slinky little number that hugs way too close.

you blink. “so you like it?”

he growls. “i like it on the floor of our bedroom.”

you nearly explode.

one outfit later, you try something on that you already know is ridiculous—fluffy, sparkly, way too over-the-top—but you step out just to mess with him.

you expect him to laugh. maybe tease. instead?

he blinks once. then shrugs. “buy it.”

you pause. “wait… really?”

he smirks. “you look happy in it. that’s all i care about.”

by the time you're done, you're practically floating out of the store—arms light, mood lighter, cheeks a little sore from how much you've been grinning.

katsuki?

katsuki is not floating. katsuki is lugging six bags in one hand, two on the other, and somehow managing to balance the weirdly long one that holds the dress bag across his broad shoulders like a damn pack mule.

and the whole time? he looks pissed. jaw tight, bags slapping against his thighs as he stomps beside you.

you peek over at him, smiling sweetly. “you’re the one who said to buy everything, suki.”

“tch. only ‘cause you looked hot in it, dumbass.”

you giggle. “so it’s your fault?”

he stops walking. and glares. hard.

“i swear to god, if you say that again, i’m droppin’ all these bags and draggin’ you into the back of that h&m.”

you blink innocently. “so romantic.”

“try me, sweetheart.”

despite all his complaining, he doesn’t put a single bag down. not when you stop for a smoothie. not when you see a cute little accessory stand. not even when you wander over to look at shoes you’re not even planning on buying.

he just stands there, one foot tapping, arms full of pink and glitter and tissue paper, looking like a man who’s fought gods and monsters and still wasn’t prepared for the chaos that is dating you.

at one point, you lean up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

“thanks for carrying everything,” you murmur.

he huffs. “yeah, yeah.”

you kiss him again, this time slower, lingering by the edge of his jaw. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

and that does get a response. his ears go a little red. his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but is physically restraining it.

“hmph. i better be,” he mutters, looking away like a child, shifting all the bags in one hand just so he can wrap the other arm around your shoulders.

still grumbling.

still red.

still the best, grumpiest mall boyfriend in existence.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ bc i love procrastinating and dont write the shit i should write lmao💜 hope you guys enjoyed!!

the accuracy omg 😭

"we should have brought bread," your boyfriend signs to you with a frown, his eyes on the ducks waddling just a few feet away. you and katsuki had left the house just before sunset to relax by the lake on a wooden bench and enjoy the view as the ducks ran around.

you hum, latching onto his arm. "next time." you mouth to him, pecking his chin.

katsuki exhales, nodding lightly. he wraps his beefy arm around you, pulling you into his warm figure. he feels the breeze whisper against you both, some of your hair blowing into his face. he scrunches up his nose at the ticklish sensation, pushing your hair back down as you grin up at him.

you readjust yourself a bit so you can raise both hands. "the ducks are loud." you tell him, mouthing the words as you sign.

he rolls his eyes, actually thankful he's unable to hear. he knows he can speak to you verbally, he doesn't have to stay quiet. it's an odd thing though... he prefers to not say anything. he's comfortable the way everything is. especially in moments like these, where words aren't even enough to describe what he's feeling.

katsuki turns his head to look back at you, not even a bit surprised that you're already staring at him intently. he can't even fight the little grin that makes its way onto his face. he brings up his fingers, doing the "cmere" movement as you lean forward and he grabs your chin, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

۪ ݁ 𓈒♡ㅤthinking about him rn what if i sob

happy birthday, katsuki bakugo.

a/n ll birthday boy bakugo x g/n reader. fluff and not proofread!

“dear katsuki,” the ink of your pen pooled and smudged. whatever. this was the millionth try of the day anyway. you busied yourself, trying to write a happy birthday letter to the katsuki bakugo. pro hero dynamite. no. 15 hero. oh, did i mention he’s your lover?

lover boy! katsuki bakugo who is absolutely whipped for you, and you can’t tell me otherwise. it wasn’t about the grand gestures, but the small acts of love. cliche and overused? yes, but it’s true! he can’t help but poke and prod at you. it’s all light-hearted fun. but when he definitely knows when he’s going too far. you two are inseparable, quite literally soulmates. and of course, today is his birthday. the media flooded his time, but he knew he had to devote it to the one he loves the most. you, his reason to keep going.

lover boy! katsuki bakugo thinking of his last year in ua when you mustered the courage to confess to him. on his birthday of all days! “what?” he’d say.

“i like you, i really do! and uhm, happy birthday!” you blushed furiously, giving him a handmade charm bracelet with a poorly sculpted, disfigured version of him in his hero costume. you also created a poorly made sculpture of yourself to match. katsuki thought about how you looked so beautiful and cute, even as a clay figure. he would be lying through his teeth if he didn’t admit your beet-red face made his heart skip a beat. actually, that would be an understatement. even now, years later, with your long-term relationship, he’s been so accustomed to it. but he knows he has to be more than the “all bark no bite” person people make of him. of course, he’s aware he doesn’t have to prove anything to you, knowing you love him dearly. but. he wants to be the best person he can be. how foolish. you were supposed to be the one giving him a gift, but here he was, trying to something for you on his birthday. damnit, the things he would do for you.

lover boy! katsuki bakugo putting on his hero gear every morning, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear as he kisses you lovingly. to you, it was something he did every morning. to katsuki, it meant life and death. he would walk out the door, out of your loving touch that made him jolt. with no chance of returning home. no chance of life. no chance of seeing his mom and dad again. no chance of seeing you. so everytime he would see your sparkling eyes and pouting lips, he knew he couldn’t resist you, not even for a moment. god, how pathetic. you didn’t know, but he often cried thinking of your relationship. his thoughts would consume him. if he were to die, he would leave you all alone. and he knew it was selfish, but the thought of you being happy with someone else didn’t make him happy. it should’ve, knowing you would die peacefully. but the thought of you with someone else made his heart bitter. not the possessive-jealous type of bitter, but the bitterness that would eat at him daily. and of course, it’s not like he doesn’t voice his opinions. he completely trusts you. he just knows the risks of being a hero and what that meant for your relationship. 

lover boy! katsuki bakugo reluctantly at a “special” event held just for him. he reluctantly forced himself to go, knowing it was best for his career. but no matter the circumstances, he thought of you. his loving partner, his soulmate. he had to make sure you knew how much he loved you. of all times, he thought of you in great detail. the way the setting sun would hit the gentle silhouette of your face, illuminating it perfectly during your time spent together in the living room. your home. the home you two shared. the house you two bought together, knowing you would raise your family in it (if you want to have children, of course.) 

lover boy! katsuki bakugo returning home to find crumpled paper invading the wooden floor. he would’ve fallen flat if you didn’t catch him in time, his weight leaning into you as he stabilized himself, gripping your shoulders. he embraced you carefully. “woah birthday boy, you seem a lil desperate for attention. is everything alright?” you say. “no. jus’ missin’ you. that’s all.” he dug himself into the crook of your neck, his spiky blonde hair felt relaxed under your touch. “so, wassup with all of this?” katsuki asked, his embrace only tightening as he gestured to the paper. “oh, well, i tried writing you a heartfelt letter,” at this the blonde scoffed. “a damn letter? y’know i alreay know how much you love me.” at this you giggled and playfully hit him. “i just wanted to make sure you knew!” katsuki frowned. “then i have something to show you,”  your confused gaze followed his, tracing where he was looking. he reached for something in his pocket. a ring. “don’t need a present. i already have mine,” katsuki bakugo said, slipping a beautifully crafted ring onto your finger, kissing it delicately. “stay with me will you? and we’ll have much more to celebrate than this.” 

LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!

katsuki bakugo’s love language is definitely acts of service. he’s not the best at expressing his feelings — usually blurting out the wrong thing or saying the complete opposite of how he actually feels. so instead, he puts his heart into the things he does for you, rather than what he says.

it’s usually the little things. like doing your laundry before you even notice the pile building up. packing your lunch when you’re running late (which is often), scribbling a snarky note on the lid like, “eat all of it. don’t be stupid.” massaging your sore spots after a long day of training, grumbling under his breath about how you “need to take care of yourself.”

somehow, he remembers everything you say, even if you only mentioned it once. he was like your own personal to-do list in human form.

the trash needed to be taken out? it was gone before you could even stand up. cleaning your room? done quietly while you were in the shower. needed to study for an exam? he had your notes ready and made you sit with him, just so he could make sure your focused. your favorite lip gloss went missing? there were three new ones waiting on your desk, the exact shade, like it was no big deal.

but he never brings any of it up himself. so when you catch on and finally realize how much he does for you without ever asking for credit, you throw your arms around him in a hug full of thank yous and messy kisses.

he rolls his eyes and grumbles, “yea, s’whatever.”

however, you see the way his ears turn red and how he tries holding back his grin. and although he’d never say it out loud, you knew. he loved you more than anything. and this was his quiet, steady way of showing, and saying it, every day.

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“What Did You Just Call Me?”

Requests are free btw!!

—————————————

It was a lazy afternoon in Bakugo’s dorm, and you were sprawled out on his bed, lying on your stomach as you scrolled through your phone. Katsuki sat beside you, his back against the headboard, lazily playing with your hair—something he’d never admit he enjoyed, but you knew better.

Everything was peaceful, comfortable, perfect.

Until you accidentally ruined it.

“Hey, Bakugo, can you hand me my charger?” you asked absentmindedly.

The moment the words left your lips, you felt the shift in the air.

Silence.

You blinked, turning your head to look at him, and—oh.

Oh, no.

Bakugo had completely stopped moving. His fingers, which had been gently playing with your hair, were now frozen. His crimson eyes slowly slid toward you, narrowing.

“The hell did you just call me?”

You swallowed, realizing your mistake.

Normally, you called him “babe,” “baby,” or sometimes, if you were feeling extra affectionate, “Katsu.” You had never—not once—called him by his last name since you started dating.

It felt so wrong.

You let out a nervous laugh, sitting up slightly. “Uh… I meant babe?”

His scowl deepened. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like it.”

“I just wasn’t thinking!” You scrambled to fix it, reaching for him, but Bakugo was already on a mission.

“Say it again,” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“Say what?”

“The dumb shit you just said.”

You bit your lip, fighting a smile. “Bakugo?”

His face instantly twisted in disgust.

“The fuck?” He looked genuinely offended, like you had personally betrayed him. “Why does that sound so damn formal?!”

You lost it, bursting into giggles. “I mean, it is your name!”

“Yeah, but not from you,” he grumbled.

You could see it now—the way his ears were slowly turning pink, his arms tightening over his chest in that way he always did when he was secretly sulking but too stubborn to admit it.

And oh my god.

He was pouting.

Not a full-on pout, of course, because he was Bakugo Katsuki, but his bottom lip jutted out slightly, his brows furrowed, and he refused to look at you directly.

Your heart completely melted.

“Aww, Katsu,” you cooed, sitting up fully and crawling into his lap. “Are you mad at me?”

“Tch.” He refused to answer, but his hands instinctively grabbed your waist, pulling you closer.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”

His eyes snapped back to you, glowering. “Shut up.”

You leaned in, your nose brushing against his. “You’re my baby, not my Bakugo.”

His eyes flickered to your lips, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Yeah?” His voice was lower now, rougher, teasing. “Then prove it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You closed the distance, pressing your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

At first, it was sweet, gentle—like an apology. Your fingers slid into his messy blonde hair, tugging slightly, and you felt the way his body reacted instantly.

His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you flush against him. The moment you sighed against his lips, he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

And just like that, it was game over.

His lips moved against yours hungrily, his hands wandering, fingertips brushing under your shirt, tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin. His breath was warm, intoxicating, and the way he kissed you—slow but desperate, rough but soft all at once—it made your head spin.

You barely had time to think before he flipped you both over, pressing you down against the mattress.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along your jaw.

Your breath hitched. “Say what?”

He smirked, brushing a slow, teasing kiss against your neck. “The cute one.”

Your cheeks burned as you whispered, “Baby.”

His lips curved against your skin. “Damn right.”

Then he kissed you again, like he was making sure you’d never call him anything else ever again.

btw u dont have anger issues, its everybody around u thats making u angry thats the problem and u should eliminate them