Thinking About Katsukis Kisses Perchance

omg the bodyguard trope is one of my favorites i’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure PLS MORE

iwaizumi’s leaning up against the passenger side door of his car when you approach, the phone clutched in his hand long forgotten as his eyes carefully begin to rake over your form. 

realistically, you know he’s just doing his job—making sure you’re leaving your date in one piece. but warmth flares in your gut all the same under the weight of his assessing gaze.

(you’d be lying if you said you didn’t pick out this specific red dress for tonight for him, after all.)

he doesn’t bother asking how your date went, because he’s been nearby the entire evening.

“can we stop at that bakery before we head back?” you point a little ways down the street.

for once, iwaizumi doesn’t sigh at your request, but his face remains pinched in annoyance all the same as he pushes off of the black sedan and approaches you.

“shithead could have at least offered you his jacket earlier,” he grumbles, shrugging off his own and draping it over your shoulders before gently placing a hand at the center of your back and nudging you forward.

“it’s not that cold out,” you protest, though the way you shiver at a sudden gust of wind says otherwise.

iwaizumi does sigh at that, arm automatically wrapping around you when you wobble slightly in your heels on the uneven pavement. he keeps you close as you continue to walk.

tucking your face into the warmth of his jacket, you hide the curve of your lips as you inhale the scent of his cologne. 

ft. timeskip katsuki bakugo

summary: you like when he gets upset.

You never start arguments with Bakugo on purpose.

Not really.

But damn if he isn’t fine as hell when he’s pissed.

And right now? Right now, he’s seething.

“What the fuck was that back there?” His voice is rough, low—dangerous—as he stalks toward you, shoulders squared, arms flexing, jaw tight enough to shatter stone.

You should be concerned. You should be explaining yourself. But instead, all you can do is watch the way his chest rises and falls, the fire in those red eyes, the way his lips curl in frustration.

This is bad.

He looks too good when he’s mad.

You press your lips together to stop the smirk threatening to spread across them. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” he growls, stepping closer, heat radiating off his body. “You got some fuckin’ nerve,” he mutters, jaw tight. “You just gon’ let some extra put his hands on you like that? In front of me?”

Ah. That.

Your lips part, but no words come out. You weren’t expecting this. The way he’s looking at you? Predatory. Dangerous. Possessive as hell.

You should be scared. But instead—

You loved every second of it.

“Answer me,” he demands, voice rough, commanding.

You swallow, tilting your chin up slightly. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Yeah, you knew what you were doing. Maybe you could’ve pushed the guy away faster. Maybe you could’ve told him off harsher. But where’s the fun in that when it gets this reaction out of your man?

Bakugo’s possessive. Always has been. And when that jealousy flares up, when he gets all riled up, dominant, voice dropping into that rough, dangerous growl—

It does something to you.

You shrug, pretending innocence. “He was just talking—”

Wrong answer.

Bakugo crowds you against the nearest wall, both hands slamming beside your head. His breath is hot against your skin, his scent wrapping around you, heavy with heat and warning.

“Nah,” he mutters. “Try again.”

You bite your lip. “You jealous, baby?”

“Jealous?” He scoffs, but there’s a dark glint in his eyes, something wild, something dangerous. “Nah. But I will remind you who the fuck you belong to.”

Your breath catches. This is serious. This is a real argument. But damn it, he looks so fucking good like this.

You should be apologizing. You should be reassuring him. Instead, you let your fingers trace over his wrist, slow, teasing. “That so?”

His eyes narrow, reading you like an open book. “You think this is funny?”

Your smile is slow, wicked. “I think you like it when I test you.”

For a second, just a second, his breath hitches. Then—

“Tch.” He huffs out a laugh, low and dangerous. “Keep runnin’ that mouth, princess. See what happens.”

Oh, you plan to.

©sakuraszn !

kickin my feet and shi thinkin abt husband! katsuki not leaving without his goodbye kiss from his wife, even after an argument.

you stood by the kitchen counter with your arms crossed, still fuming from the argument that had erupted the night before.

katsuki, equally stubborn, was getting ready for work, his movements a little harsher than usual as he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his keys.

neither of you had really spoken since the fight. it was stupid, really—something about schedules and plans.

"gotta go."

you heard the jingle of his keys as he walked toward the door. for a moment, you thought he was just going to leave. good. let him leave. maybe a day apart would cool both of you down.

but then, he just stopped.

you didn’t turn around, but you felt his presence by the door, unmoving. you were about to glance over your shoulder when his voice broke the silence.

“where’s my kiss?”

your heart stuttered. slowly, you turned to face him. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," katsuki grumbled, his ears tinged pink. "you always give me a kiss before i leave. so... where is it?"

your lips parted in disbelief. “we just argued for the whole night and you want a kiss?"

"yeah, and? doesn’t mean you can skip it."

the audacity. the nerve. you opened your mouth to tell him off, but the stubborn, almost childlike look on his face made your resolve crack.

he was dead serious. this man could be furious with you—could spend hours brooding in stony silence—but he still needed his goodbye kiss like it was a non-negotiable part of his day.

"katsuki, i’m still pissed at you."

"and i’m still pissed at you," he shot back, brows furrowing. "but we don’t leave without a goodbye kiss. that’s our thing and i’m not leavin’ without it."

he looked genuinely annoyed—and not just because of the argument.

ever since you’d started dating, no matter how bad the fight, you never let each other leave without a kiss. this was the kind of annoyance he reserved for things that threw him off his routine.

and apparently, your daily goodbye kiss was part of that routine.

still, you stayed put, stubborn as fuck. he shifted, gripping the keys tightly in his hand like it was the only thing stopping him from marching across the room.

you saw the conflict flash in his eyes—pride battling something softer.

"just...” he finally muttered, voice low and rough. “c’mere. please.”

that single, reluctant please just broke you.

with an exasperated sigh, you stomped over to him. he watched you carefully, guarded but hopeful. you stopped just inches away, folding your arms.

“this doesn’t mean i’m not still mad,” you mumbled.

“i know,” he said softly.

you placed your hands on his chest and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. or at least, you tried to. as you pulled away, his hand shot out, cupping the back of your neck.

“oi,” he said, voice losing its earlier irritation. “that ain’t a real kiss.”

you glared up at him, ready to argue, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart stutter. his thumb brushed the side of your neck as his grip softened.

"even if we fight," he muttered, voice lower now, "i still love ya. and i still want my kiss."

your chest tightened. damn him for being sweet after pissing you off.

you leaned in again, pressing your lips to his more firmly this time. he responded immediately, mouth warm against yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

it wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost punishing. his teeth scraped your bottom lip, and his tongue pushed into your mouth like he was trying to kiss the fight right out of you.

when you pulled away, his expression had softened, the hard lines of frustration melting into something quieter.

"i love you." he kissed your forehead, then straightened. “well?”

you raised an eyebrow. “well, what?”

his gaze darkened. “say it.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. "say what?"

his jaw clenched. "say you love me too. you don’t get to leave me hangin’ after all that kissin’ shit.”

a smirk tugged at your lips. oh, he was really fishing for it now. “i love you too, okay?”

the words barely left your mouth before his hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you toward him.

"good," he muttered, before slamming his lips against yours in a another kiss that left you breathless. it wasn’t sweet or gentle—it was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to make up for lost time.

“wait, katsuki, you’re gonna be late—” you gasped against his mouth as his hands roamed down your body.

“fuck work. i’m late anyway," you tried to speak again, but he kissed you so hard it left no room for words.

the argument? forgotten. work? completely irrelevant. all that mattered was the way he was making you feel in that moment, pulling you closer, making your head spin.

his hands tugged at your clothes with an urgency that told you he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

“got better things to do while my girl is pissed at me.”

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

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hi everyone!! js wanna put this out as a thank you for the 2k follows, oh my gosh i am beyond happy i made it this far. hope yall stick around for more^^

Failed surprise

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HUBBYY!! I LOVE HIM SM MUAH MUAH MUAH <33

Pairing: Husband! Bakugou x GN!reader

Summary: while trying to surprise your birthday boy didn’t work out the way you wanted it to you resort to cuddles !!

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

it was Katsuki’s birthday and you had planned to get up and surprise him. You had bought banners and flowers for the special occasion but your aspersions were cut short by his strong hands having a cage-like grip around your waist that was impossible to get out of without waking him.

You tried your best to pry at his hands but failed as he started to stir. “Mmh” he groaned as you stopped all actions, scared he might wake up but lucky for you he stayed sound asleep; snoring slightly. Though his grip around you was still lethal.

Cursing under your breath you continued your useless efforts but this time waking him. “Baby..?” His morning voice laced with confusion made you wanna spend all day in bed with him, cuddling and kissing him as if that was all you could give him for his birthday. “Morning kat.. uh I gotta pee..” you gave a white lie, hoping it would finally set you free from his hold. “Mk” he groaned flipping to the other side and resuming his sleep.

You pumped your fist in the air in succession as you tiptoed your way to the closet where you kept all your birthday presents and decorations but didn’t get far before you heard Katsuki grumble from the other room, making you realize you weren’t gonna be able to set everything up before you got caught in the middle of making his surprise.

Forfeiting your plan, you figured you’d just do it later when he’s out or doing something that would give you time to put everything together the way you wanted to.

You copied the same actions as before and made your way back to the bed where you found a groggy Katsuki sitting up, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scrolled on his phone shaking his head at the amount of media he was getting all because it was his birthday. “Hi hubby” you say in a low cheery voice, getting on the bed and kissing his cheek “Happy birthday..” you smiled sitting by his side and resting ur head on his shoulder, locking arms with his. “Psh, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m just a year older.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh cmon Kats, have some enthusiasm.” You grabbed his face, giving him kisses all over. “There’s No lack in enthusiasm with you is there” he joked pulling you onto his waist. you continued to smother him in kisses, your soft lips making sure to cover every inch of his face. “Okay okay okay” he tried to protest but failed.

Eventually you showed him mercy and allowed him to take his glasses off and lay back down. “I wanna sleep in” he muttered softly agents the back of your neck. “Anything for you birthday boy” you smiled as he hugged you closer.

Katsuki did end up going out with his friends later which gave you the chance to set everything up, and it didn’t turn out as bad as you thought it would. he loved his surprise, which he later described that night while he was getting his special birthday gift.

(Sorry if this was half-assed I got lazy, BUT I LOVE HIM SMSMSMSM.)

katsuki who traps you into a tight bear hug whenever he comes back from a long mission, shoves his head into your shoulder and takes a big, looong, hard whiff.

"wah—katsuki !! don't, i—don't smell good !" you whine, like that would stop him. you were unfortunately already used to his antics. you'd come to pick him up early at the airport and hadn't bothered putting on any perfume or anything.

and of course, it doesn't stop him. he growls, arms tightening around you threatening to melt into your ribs. he even nudges his nose even harder, moving into your pulse point and his hair tickling your ear.

"shush, stop squirming—don't move. i wanna smell you."

you groan at his lack of shame. "you're way too blunt about this."

"don't know why i'd have anything to be embarrassed about. wanna smell mine. missed you." he says, mumbling the last time just a little bit quieter. but since he's like, pressed to you you had no problem hearing his words and sigh. "y'smell good.." he adds.

you run your fingers through his hair, fondly rolling your eyes at his weak reassurance. "yeah, thanks.." and he has the nerve to grunt in agreement for succeeding in helping you.

like a dog | s.hinata

-> pairing: hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: lovesick shoyo | wc: 1080 | genre: fluff | mlist

-> synopsis: shoyo always thinks about you. 

SHOYO’s not ashamed to admit that he’s a little obsessed with you.

He thinks about you all the time. At work, at the gym, in the shower. Your face is so etched into his memory that you appear in perfect clarity, slipping into his mind during the most mundane of moments. He’s always been an appreciative individual, but loving you has increased his gratefulness by tenfold. Thoughts of you make the ordinary feel sacred. 

But as much as he loves to think of you, he appreciates being with you far more. 

He’s just gotten home from a long day of training, and while his muscles ached, it’s his heart that feels the real strain. As much as he loves his job, hours spent away from you are absolute torture. For every second he’s not with you, he finds himself craving your presence more than anything in the world. 

It’s on nights like this one, when his body is sore and mind’s sick from longing, that there’s only one cure for his ailment– you. 

When he tip-toes into the bedroom, his chest lurches with excitement when he sees your figure laying in your shared bed. You’re already tucked under the quilted covers, but he can tell your mind is far from sleep. Your tired eyes are illuminated by the faint glow of a computer screen, and he watches you sigh deeply as your lithe fingers idly type away.

You work too hard. 

He frowns. It’s a bit silly to think about himself chastising you for overdoing it. Shoyo’s always been a proponent of the “you can never work too hard” mindset. He’s a firm believer that there are no shortcuts in life. If you want to succeed, you must pursue your ambition in earnest and push yourself past your limits. 

He’s preached this mindset time and time again. During conversations with friends, interviews with the press, and with his teammates. 

But in spite of it all, he finds himself wishing you’d rest. Even if it was just for a little while. 

Along with subscribing to the idea that there is merit in working hard, he also believes that one should lead by example. So, with a quiet resolve, he decides to display relaxation to you.

If his own selfish desires also happened to be served in the process, then it was just a happy coincidence. 

A smile tugs at his lips as he crawls on the mattress to lay with you. Even without touching you, the radiant warmth of your body embraces his skin and instantly relaxes him. 

When Shoyo was younger, he used to think he’d never be tied down. He was always flighty, always restless, always chasing the next big thing. 

But then he met you. 

You made settling down something worth doing. You taught him– among other things– the beauty of slowing down.

You are his home. 

He inches closer, longing for your affection. You hum in acknowledgement, eyes fixated on the screen, lost in whatever it was you were working on. His heart swells at the way you bite your lip in concentration.

He loves how hard you work, even when you don’t have to.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t fight to steal some of your time for himself. 

“I’m lonely.” Shoyo drawls, pressing his cheek against your blanket-clad thigh and looking up at you in adoration. Sighing dramatically, he sprawls further across you, chasing the high of your attention like a dog begging for a treat. “Come hang out with me before I die of boredom.” 

You laugh softly, and his ears perk up at the sound. 

Hesitantly, you discard yourself of your laptop and spread your arms. Nudging your head, your voice is laced with a fond amusement. 

“C’mere.” 

He obeys your call in an instant and collapses into your embrace. It’s not long before he’s peppering your face with kisses. One kiss to the forehead, another to the eyelids, and one on the lips for good measure. They’re fervent, each filled with more energy than the last in an effort to convey just how much he loves you. 

He’s been waiting for this all day. 

“You missed me that much?” You tease through soft gasps. 

Grinning, he nods. Shoyo knows you. He’s come to recognize that beneath all the layers of sardonic sarcasm, there’s a faint fondness you reserve only for him.

“Even when I’m with you, I’m thinking about how much I’ll miss you when you leave.” He confesses, inhaling your natural scent as he curls into you. 

As sappy as it is, it’s the truth, and Shoyo is always unapologetically himself. 

You tilt your head, amused, “So why don’t you just stay with me all the time?” 

“Really?” His breath catches, and the excitable child in him rears its head. Gripping you tighter, he looks up at you with something hopeful in his chest.

When you nod, he unravels, and his smile widens. It’s bright and boyish and full of love. 

 “Okay.” He beams. “Lets. Let’s be together– always.” 

It’s a foolish declaration. Shoyo is old enough to know that by now. But when you comb your fingers through his hair in the way that you currently are, it makes him want to believe in the impossible. 

“You’re such a dork.” You chuckle.

He grins at the playful jab. He doesn’t mind when you tease him. He loves everything you do. You fill him with such a unique fondness that sometimes, he wishes he could just carve his heart out and give it to you. Maybe then you’d see how stained it’s become with your essence. 

Shoyo doesn’t think you’ll ever be able to fully comprehend how much he loves you, or how much these little moments mean to him, but that’s okay.

For now, he’s fine with just showing you.  

Settling down, he closes his eyes and lets his heart slow, basking in the feeling of your gentle hands tracing him. In your reverent touch, his once weary body is long forgotten. You make him feel warm all over, and he swears that you have the ability to transport him into a metaphysical space that transcends the limits of flesh and bone. 

In the quiet still of the night, with his heart full of love and your hands full of him, Shoyo affirms that he truly does love to think about you.

But nothing compares to the feeling of being here, in your arms.

–a/n: um…hey…haha…im not self inserting…you are…

shoyo tag for @cherrysurf

can you PLEASE do a husband!katsuki reacting to the reader and his son being disrespectful or and rude to the reader, maybe even pushing her lightly?

Have some respect

--------------------------------------------------

You weren’t expecting it.

Just a quick push—little hands on your side, frustration bursting out of him before he even thought it through.

You stumbled back half a step, more shocked than anything.

“Hey!” you snapped. “That is not okay. We don’t push people.”

Your son glared up at you, seven years old and already way too good at attitude.

“You always ruin everything!” he shouted. “I don’t care! I hate you!”

Your mouth opened, stunned—but before you could get a word out—

“The hell did you just say?”

The hallway went quiet. Katsuki’s voice cut through like a knife.

Your son turned slowly, already regretting it. Katsuki stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw locked, eyes narrowed.

He walked in, calm but tight, every step deliberate. “Try saying that again.”

The boy’s lips trembled. “I didn’t mean it…”

“You shoved her,” Katsuki said. “And then said that? You think that’s okay?”

“No…”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I was just mad!”

“You’re gonna get mad,” Katsuki said, crouching down to his level. “That’s normal. But if you think throwing your hands or saying crap like that gets you what you want—you’ve got it all backwards.”

He pointed toward you without breaking eye contact. “You don’t ever talk to your mom like that. You don’t touch her. You don’t yell at her. I don’t care if you’re angry or tired or whatever—you don’t cross that line.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her…”

“You still did,” Katsuki said, standing up again. “Now go to your room. We’ll talk more when you’ve calmed down.”

The kid looked between the two of you, tears threatening, then turned and ran off down the hall. The door clicked shut.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. “That was... intense.”

Katsuki sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Well. He’s not gonna grow up thinking that crap’s normal.”

You nodded. “He’s never acted like that before.”

“He’s testing limits.” Katsuki looked at you, jaw still tense. “Just gotta make sure he knows where the line is.”

He moved closer, eyes on yours now. “You okay?”

You gave him a tired smile. “Fine. Just didn’t expect him to go full tiny Bakugou on me.”

That earned the smallest smirk from him. “Yeah, that’s on me.”

He rested a hand on your back, grounding you. “You don’t ever let him treat you like that. No matter how little he is. He needs to know who the hell he’s talking to.”

You leaned into his side. “Thanks for backing me up.”

“Always,” he muttered. “No one messes with my girl. Not even my own damn kid.”

I just wanted to say how much Yuji Itadori is like the poster child for green flag boyfriends. Like He’s the kind of guy who remembers how you like your drink, notices when you change your hair even slightly, and asks about that one random thing you mentioned two weeks ago because he genuinely cares.

He’s emotionally intelligent in a very grounded, non-showy way. Like, he doesn’t make a big deal out of being thoughtful, he just is. He’s the type to carry extra snacks in case you forgot to eat, or sit with you quietly when you’re not ready to talk, but also the first to hype you up when you’re doubting yourself.

And the way he values life, friendships, and emotional connection? That boy would never gaslight you, ghost you, or make you feel small. Just 100% reliable, loyal, soft-hearted without being weak. total boyfriend material.

calvins or nothing?

[nsfw-ish] ; bakugou katsuki x reader — domestic fluff, slight horniness, bakugou katsuki being a cute little bean (but also a sexy phenomenon), slight humor <3

♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖📸.𖥔 ݁ ˖♡

notes: this is inspired by the bad bunny x calvin klein ad that came out a few weeks ago. i’m ovulating and had this in my drafts. enjoy 😃

Your grumpy Pro Hero boyfriend—the one who hates cameras, hates media circuits, hates anything remotely resembling a brand deal—somehow got talked into doing an ad. That, in itself, is already enough of a shocker. The man rolls his eyes at the mere mention of Instagram. His idea of PR is grunting his way through one-word answers at press conferences.

So, yeah. When Katsuki says he’s doing a shoot, you're caught off guard.

The announcement isn’t even some grand confession—it’s a casual mumble, like he’s commenting on the weather. He says it while washing the dishes, fingers soapy, sleeves of his tee pushed up to his elbows, the evening news humming in the background. You're sitting on the counter, half-listening to the TV, half-watching the muscles in his back flex through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Gonna do a shoot in a couple days,” he mutters like it’s nothing. Like the sky’s blue. Like he’s not about to detonate your entire sense of reality.

You pause mid-sip of your water. “A shoot?” you echo, blinking at him.

He doesn’t even look up. “Yeah.”

You slide off the counter and walk toward him, disbelief coloring your voice. “Wait, seriously? You? Doing a shoot? Like… willingly?”

He finally cuts you a glance, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck would I joke for?”

“I don’t know! Because you hate this stuff?” You raise a brow. “Last week you growled at a guy just for taking a picture of you at the market.”

He scoffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “Agent wouldn’t shut up about it. Said it’s a good deal. Said it’d make my numbers spike.” He grinds his teeth. “S’bullshit.”

You grin, stepping even closer, your hands brushing against the hem of his shirt. “So what is it, huh? Sportswear? A cologne campaign? Let me guess, something with black-and-white aesthetics, all ‘I’m brooding and mysterious and I could kill you but also model for Givenchy.’”

His glare sharpens. “I ain't tellin’ you,” he mutters, and then smears a soapy hand across your face.

You yelp, eyes widening in shock before laughing, pushing him back with a dish towel, and just like that, the kitchen descends into a sudsy, chaotic mess—water splashing, laughter echoing, and your annoyed, grumbly boyfriend cracking the faintest smile as you attack him with bubbles.

You forget about it after that.

He goes to the shoot a few days later, grumbles about how stupid it was, comes home smelling faintly of sweat and photo studio, and promptly takes a nap on the couch with his face buried in your thigh.

End of story—or so you think.

Until the ad airs.

And the entire world explodes.

You’re not even the first person to see it. You wake up to six missed calls from Kaminari, seventeen texts in a group chat with Amanai and Hanari, and three DMs from stylists you’ve only ever worked with once, all saying something along the lines of:

IS THAT BAKUGOU???
Please tell me that’s YOUR man.
why didn’t you warn me???

You groggily pull up the video link with one eye open, barely processing the thumbnail—just muted greys and harsh lighting—and then hit play.

And then the world stops.

The screen fades in, and the first thing you see is concrete—cold and industrial, metal beams and stark shadows. The lighting is sharp and stylized, the kind of aesthetic that screams high-end minimalism, and then—

There he is.

Katsuki.

In nothing but tight black briefs, leaning against a concrete wall, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his thigh. His scars catch the light. His tan skin looks like it's been kissed by some god. His abs—hard and defined, with that perfect cut down his sides—flex slightly as he breathes. There’s sweat glistening faintly on his collarbone.

And his expression?

That look. The one he gives when he’s about to fight someone and knows he’s already won. That heavy-lidded, lazy gaze that screams dominance and confidence. His jaw is tight. His mouth is parted just slightly, teeth catching on the fabric of his own tank top as he lifts it with one hand, revealing the full line of his torso—slow and unbothered, like this means nothing to him.

You gasp. You physically clutch your phone like it might explode in your hands.

Is this a fucking fever dream?

The ad keeps going. Transitions shift—now he’s outside, in some open-air gym setup, hanging from a pull-up bar in white briefs, his body tense and glistening, thighs flexing as he hooks his legs around the metal, inverted and still steady. The camera pans slowly, sinfully, down the line of his waist, his back muscles moving with effortless control.

You are floored.

And then—then—he’s sprawled in a plush lounge chair, still in briefs, arms behind his head, legs spread in that arrogant, casual way that only he could pull off. He’s completely relaxed, like he doesn’t know the entire planet is watching this ad and forgetting how to breathe.

You drop your phone on the bed and bury your face in your hands.

“What the fuck,” you groan into your palms. Your heart is pounding. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Katsuki, your grumpy, camera-hating, blunt-as-hell boyfriend… just dropped the hottest underwear ad of the year. And you had no idea what he was shooting until now.

You scramble to your feet, pacing your bedroom, mouth still open, heart pounding in your chest like war drums.

Your phone still lies face down on the bed, but you’re pacing like the floor might cave in. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your body thrumming with something between disbelief and desperate, carnal desire. There’s a burn low in your stomach. A buzzing heat behind your eyes.

Because the ad isn’t done. It gets worse—so much worse.

The music shifts, something darker now, heavier—bass rolling like thunder. And then the screen cuts to him again. Katsuki. In jeans this time.

Low-rise. Washed-out. Loose around the thighs but slung criminally low on his hips.

And those goddamn white briefs are peeking out above the waistband like it was staged in a dream. His hand glides lazily over his stomach, fingers tracing the defined V of his hips, brushing right past the thick trail of hair under his navel. He stops there—lingers there—just barely grazing the hem of the briefs before his thumb tucks in, teasing the edge. His gaze flicks to the camera.

And he smirks.

Not his usual cocky grin, no. This one’s lazy. Lopsided. Something slow and dangerous that makes your knees buckle. Like he knows what he’s doing. Like he planned this moment for you and you alone.

You gasp. You clutch your chest. "Oh my God."

And then—as if that wasn’t enough—the music picks up and the scenes start layering: cuts of him against the concrete, muscles flexing under the strain of his pose; transitions to the gym, his thighs clenching, his expression loose with exertion; cuts to that plush chair, where he’s lounging like sin incarnate, and finally, back to the jeans, with his hand still teasing that waistband.

It’s not an ad anymore. It’s a weapon. A visual threat. A public sex dream.

You stand there, completely dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth parted, blinking like you’ve been smacked upside the head with a wet towel.

And the comments?

Oh. The comments.

@takxmi291_: raw. next question.
@abersiw.3: Good lord what a great day to be alive.
@BIGPAPA.EJI: FLASH US ‼️‼️‼️
@numbber1.lemilionnn: giggling at 3am
@angelzkiss: GOOD GOD IM GIDJDJFNNFHDNDNDJDNCN🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦
@hyurhio008: YEP IM GETTING HIM PREGNANT
@Cello_Zumazz: damn now my screen's all sticky :/
@bpxrndeku: I FEEL LIKE A MAN IN THE 1800S SEEING AN ANKLE FOR THE FIRST TIME.
@lennysqqie: don’t be scared. take em off.
@dynazaddy98: i wanna GAGGGG on that huge COCK—
@stareandfanfic: look at em TITS AWOOGAAAA

You can’t even think. You’re vibrating. Your brain is gone. You’re standing there, still in pajamas, while your very private, very grouchy, very hot boyfriend just broke the Internet in his underwear.

You can’t let this slide.

So you bide your time. You wait until he’s home from patrol—freshly showered, hair damp and messy, wearing his black hoodie and sweatpants that clings to him a little too well. He’s sitting at the kitchen table now, chopsticks in one hand, steam rising from the shabu shabu you made. His brow is furrowed as he eats, and he's grumbling about how some new sidekick forgot to file a report properly.

You sit across from him with your phone in hand, not saying anything.

And then, casually, you clear your throat and say in a bright voice:

“Explosively warm, and snug. Dynamight wears the new Iconic Cotton Stretch. Now in stores.”

Katsuki freezes mid-bite.

His chopsticks pause, a slice of beef and mushroom still dangling, and you see it happen—the moment it registers. His shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens. And then slowly, as if the food can save him, he stuffs it into his mouth.

You try not to laugh. You fail.

“What the hell, Katsuki?” you grin, voice breathless with amusement. “Why didn’t you tell me?! That ad launched three hours ago and I’ve seen your dick print more times than I’ve seen my own reflection today.”

He grunts. Doesn’t look at you.

“Honey, you looked insanely good. Like… I’m not even sure it was legal.” You lean forward over the table, voice dropping slightly. “You were so hot. And that grin?” You tap your phone. “That was cute, baby.”

His ears go bright red. A slow, creeping crimson that crawls up his neck to his cheeks.

He finally glances at you, scowling faintly. “S’just a stupid ad. Ain’t that important.”

“Oh, it’s important to me,” you murmur with a knowing smirk.

He huffs and looks away again, stuffing another bite in his mouth. But his jaw’s twitching. He’s so clearly flustered, you can barely take it. A tiny, pleased smile tugs at his lips even though he’s fighting it with everything he has.

And you realize—this is why he didn’t tell you. Because deep down, Katsuki knew. He knew how hot he looked, how big the reaction would be, how much people would thirst over it.

But more than anything, he knew you would look at him like this—like he hung the goddamn moon. And he wouldn’t know what to do with that.

“Sh’ddup,” he mutters under his breath, cheeks now fully flushed.

You grin like a wolf, biting your lip as you lean over the table, eyes glinting.

“No. I’m not gonna shut up. In fact, I’m gonna print out a poster. Hang it in the hallway. Right across from the bathroom.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growls—but it’s soft. There’s no heat behind it. Just embarrassment and affection and that little smirk he only wears when he’s happy in spite of himself.

And you?

You’re head over heels in love with this absolute menace of a man. Horny and obsessed and ready to make him flustered for the rest of the night.

Later, the apartment is warm, and quiet, the soft hum of the city alive behind the windows—but in here, it’s just you and him.

The scent of the shabu shabu still lingers faintly in the air, and the clinking of dishes is rhythmic, almost soothing. Katsuki stands at the sink, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms slick and glistening. His hands are buried in a sink full of suds, scrubbing out the plates he insisted on washing since you cooked.

You’re perched on the counter next to him, legs swinging slightly, phone in hand, face lit up with mischief and fondness. The grin on your face is damn near criminal. You can’t help it—you’ve been giggling all night. Ever since the ad dropped, you’ve been glued to the internet, reading every unhinged, thirsty, downright feral comment about your boyfriend. And oh, they are so good.

Katsuki grumbles under his breath every time you so much as snort at your screen, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Not really. Because he secretly loves the sound of your laugh—especially when it’s because of him, even if it makes him wanna throw himself into the damn sink.

You scroll through your phone, eyes twinkling, then grin wider. “Should I read you the comments next?”

He groans. “No.”

But you’re already doing it. “@yoqnoak24 says: i’m wet, ready, and stretched out to g—”

Before you can finish, a wet, soapy hand slaps gently but firmly against your face.

“Katsuki!” you squeal, laughing in full as the bubbles smear across your cheek and jaw, eyes crinkling with delight.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he growls through a grin of his own, already tugging you off the counter with one hand on your waist.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders instinctively as he leans in, pressing a messy, grinning kiss against your lips. It’s hot, breathless, teeth clicking together for a second before he pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You’re smiling so wide you can barely kiss him back properly, giggling like a teenager. “Probably fuck me stupid, since you’ve already got half the world begging for it.”

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the way his ears are burning where they brush your jaw. But he’s smiling. You can feel that too. It’s hidden, buried in the press of his mouth against your collarbone, but it’s there. That secret softness only you get.

“You’re the worst,” he mumbles.

“No,” you say, tugging gently at his hair as you press a kiss behind his ear. “I’m the best. I’m your number one fan.”

“Damn right you are.”

You laugh again, and he chuckles too—quiet, low, warm in your chest.

This. This is your life with him. This ridiculous, heart-melting mix of domesticity and chaos. You and him in your kitchen, covered in soap and laughter, still buzzing with the aftershocks of an ad he didn’t even want to do. You and him trading kisses like secrets, teasing and tugging, wrapped around each other like you’ve always belonged this way.

God, you love this man. More than anything.

And the best part?

He loves you back just as hard.