"match My Freak!" Match My Sweetness. Match My Benevolence. Match My Empathy. Match My Ability To Feel

smile for the camera! — ft. k. bakugo x fem!reader

katsuki bakugo is tricked into smiling during an interview when they bring up your name!

you didn't notice it at first, but katsuki bakugo developed smile lines after meeting you.

he didn't smile much as a kid. most of his baby pictures consisted of him either crying, screaming, or making some sort of vulgar gesture at the camera. it only got worse as he entered his teen years. his temper calmed down a bit, sure. but the chances of catching katsuki bakugo smiling were as rare as catching lightening in a bottle.

the paparazzi were well aware of the famous dynamight barely having any pictures of him smiling out on the internet—there were three singular photos out there that consisted of him with a somewhat pleased expression on his face, and the only reason he looked that way was because you were in frame right beside him.

it seemed to be a well known fact that getting bakugo to smile was nearly impossible—but the current interviewer sitting in front of bakugo was determined.

"great explosion murder god dynamight—or, well, just dynamight sir—what would you say is your favorite part about being a hero?"

katsuki stops himself from rolling his eyes, already anticipating the rest of the interview's questions as he answers flatly

"the glory. the strength. and kicking ass—make that the first thing, actually."

"okay! now, i'd like to ask you a few more things..." the young woman chirps up, and katsuki sighs and tells her to continue. the next dozens of questions were just as he'd predicted—stuff like asking who his biggest inspiration was, what kind of merch his team would be putting out in the upcoming months, and what he thought his weaknesses were.

"—and i don't have weakness. i'm fucking perfect, ask anybody. now, are we done here?" he snaps, rolling his shoulders as he moves to stand up, eyes flitting towards the exit with nothing but disinterest

he'd spent an entire hour answering these stupid questions when he could've been out fighting villains, finishing up his paperwork, literally anything else would be more time fulfilling than answering baseless questions like these ones.

the interviewer's eyes widen when katsuki stands up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head with a grunt before she quickly interrupts him

"what about your wife!"

"....eh?"

"your wife!" she says, quickly collecting herself

"could you tell us about her? it seems like many of your fans are interested in learning more regarding you two! you have a very private relationship, so it's only natural for people to be curious!"

katsuki blinks, absorbing her words. slowly, his feet—once pointed towards the exit—shift ever so slightly towards the woman

"well...what do you want to know?"

and that's how katsuki found himself sitting in the same seat another hour later. except this time, he had the dorkiest grin ever plastered on his face.

"oh i knew i wanted to marry her the first time she yelled at me—she was pretty feisty back in our ua days. still is, but now all the insults she throws my way usually have the word babe or honey added at the end. she has a clever mouth, i'm warnin' ya—you don't wanna get into an argument with her."

the interviewer laughs, and katsuki decides he might come back to this station another time if they asked. he's... well, simply put, having fun.

he leaves after another forty minutes, only because his manager literally dragged him out of the room—he had a meeting to attend and then his patrol—but he left waving at the camera crew and in a far more better mood than he'd arrived in.

katsuki spends the rest of the day getting through all of his hero duties, the interview slowly being pushed to the back of his mind as he focuses on finishing all his work and coming home to you.

it's nearly nine pm when he opens the door to your shared apartment—groaning about how tired he was and how you better not be asleep—when he hears your padded feet running towards the main entryway to greet him

"you're home!"

he offers you a slanted grin, opening his arms for a hug

"missed ya today," he mutters, pressing a kiss onto your scalp as you peer up at him with a grin—looking a little too happy.

"what're ya cheesing so hard about?"

you hum, tapping the back of his thigh with a knowing grin

"your ma called me. guess what she told me?"

katsuki groans, shrugging off his gauntlets and boots before tugging you towards the couch in the living room, flopping onto it while mumbling under his breath and pulling you towards his chest

"you two devils were probably gosspin' about me, that old hag better not have sent you any pictures or i swear—"

"she told me to turn on the tv and head to channel seven."

katsuki pauses, staring at you with furrowed brows. well, it couldn't have been him on channel seven, right? he didn't have any crazy villains to deal with for once, so it wouldn't make sense for him to be on one of the main channels today.

"what..."

he smacks his forehead with an embarrassed groan when you pull out your phone and show him your recording of his interview. you're practically bouncing on the couch beside him with glee as you shove the screen in his face

"you're smiling! they made it the cover of their video, too—gosh you look so cute when you smile! and you're talking about me!"

katsuki huffs, but watches you play back the video with a cheesy grin on your face. your round eyes are illuminated by the screen, and you re-watch the video with your lips parted in awe

"you got the real thing right in front of you but you'd rather watch that...i see how it is." he grumbles, something similar to a pout forming on his face when you still don't acknowledge him—too busy watching his video as you bring the phone closer to your face

"i'm going to screenshot your smiling face in this video and make it my profile picture on insta—"

he snatches the phone out of your hand, powering it off before tossing it aside and wrapping his strong arms around your waist in an iron grip

"i'll make that one of you snoring and drooling all over my chest my profile picture if you even think about it."

"i'm pretty sure half the comments on that video literally have your smiling face as their profile picture."

"...well that's a lot of people i'm gonna have to sue."

“i can do the alphabet in sign language!” eri chirps to you one night, tugging at the bottom of your skirt as she gazes up at you with that sparkle in her eyes she gets when she's about to show you something important.

the city hums softly outside your window. cars in the distance, someone’s dog barking, the occasional clink of a bottle hitting pavement. you’re curled on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, fingers grazing the hem of the throw blanket, and eri’s settled close, knees bumping yours, her face lit by the soft blue flicker of the tv screen.

your mouth parts into a soft gasp, eyes going round with surprise, delight catching in your throat. “that’s so cool!” you grin, reaching for her instinctively, brushing a hand through her snowy hair. “you should show suki, he’d really like it.”

she nods, mouth stretched into a proud little beam, her arms winding around your leg in a hug, like she wants to melt into your side and stay there forever. “okay! where is he?”

you glance up, eyes flicking toward the hallway without much thought.

“i dunno,” you hum. “i think he’s getting your bedsheets.”

“i’m gonna go find him!” she cheers, letting go of you and running off without another word, small feet padding down the hallway before you can call out a reminder. to be gentle and cautious.

you sink back into the couch with a quiet wince, already imagining the startle that’s coming. katsuki doesn’t wear his hearing aids at home. he says they make him feel alienated, like he’s underwater in his own home. says he prefers the quiet, even when it means he misses footsteps behind him.

down the hall, eri’s palm skims the wall as she turns the corner.

“suki?” she calls out, forgetting he can't hear her.

she finds him with his back to the room, broad shoulders blocking the light from the closet as he reaches for the folded sheets on the top shelf.

she slowly steps over to his spot, tapping his bulgy arm and looking up at him with pride. he jumps, and almost blasts whatever it is coming near him. he knows it's not you, you make sure to knock on the wall or anything just to make yourself known before getting close to him.

it’s not dramatic, not loud, just a sharp inhale as his muscles twitch beneath his skin, the sheets nearly slipping from his hands, turning his head to look down at her in surprise.

“you scared me,” he mutters, voice low, words shaped more from breath than sound.

eri just grins up at him, undeterred. she lifts her right hand, fingers curling and tucking until they make a neat little H. katsuki raises a brow, the closet door creaking as it swings shut behind him.

immediately after, she forms an I with a soft grin

then she follows it with an I, fingers small and steady, her eyes never leaving his. her smile is proud. soft. expectant.

the moment reached him slower than it should have, but she keeps going.

her fingers move carefully, like she’s practiced this a hundred times in her room, mouthing the letters silently as she went. she starts spelling out the alphabet, grinning with pride.

by the time she gets to K, katsuki's kneeling, bringing himself to her level as he sits on his heels so they’re eye to eye. his expression softens in a way only a handful of people ever get to see.

his hand rises— not to stop her, not to fix her hands, not to take over. just to mirror her. to do it with her.

his lips are twitching, not into a smile yet, but close enough. something fond, folded under layers of gruffness and disbelief.

“you learn all that just for me?” he asks, low and rough.

eri nods, both hands flying up now, fingers tangling as she shows him N, then O, like she doesn’t want to waste time answering him out loud.

katsuki exhales like he’s been holding it in since she tapped him, then reaches forward and cups the back of her head gently, thumb brushing through her hair.

“your hair needs to be brushed." he murmurs, like he's trying to escape from the feeling inside of him. he's not even sure what it is, it just feels nice. to have her, this little girl, learn a language for him.

he reaches for the fallen sheets with a smile, a real smile. the kind that pushes up into his eyes and softens all the hard lines around his mouth.

One day, you finally decide to join Katsuki at the gym. As soon as Bakugou walks through the doors, the place practically pauses. Everyone’s eyes are on him, some with smiles, others with admiring glances.

You grin to yourself, pleased to see it wasn’t just you who noticed the results of your boyfriend’s hard work. While you’re taking in the gym’s vibe, you hear Katsuki calling your name softly from where the barbells are.

“Come help me with my set.” He gestures over to where he’s standing, and you walk over quickly, eager to join him.

Katsuki plops down onto a bench, grabbing two barbells and setting them on the mat. He sits beside them, waiting with his usual impatient-but-soft expression as you walk over and slide your foot under the barbells.

You start a set of sit-ups, but when you feel Katsuki's hand brush against your thigh, you sit up with a sigh, beads of sweat already making their way down your face.

“God, I’m so unfit…”

“You’re fine, babe.” Katsuki leans forward, grabbing a towel and gently dabbing it across your forehead. “Look at you, though… sweating already.” He smirks, then adds, “Wanna help me with my push-ups?”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “How am I supposed to help you with your push-ups?”

Katsuki grins, stands up, and walks over to return the barbells to their proper place. When he comes back, he lowers himself into a plank position and shoots you a look.

“Sit on my back. Cheer me on.”

You can’t help but laugh, crawling toward him with a shake of your head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You sure you want to miss this?” He hums, a playful challenge in his tone.

“Do I have a choice?” you tease, but you can't resist. Carefully, you crawl onto his back, crossing your legs and resting your hands gently on his shoulder blades. “Okay, here goes…” You say with mock hesitation, though your heart is fluttering a little.

“Hold on tight, baby, or you’ll fall,” he grunts, and you feel the slight tension in his body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor and pushes back up, without even breaking a sweat.

You sit there, completely entranced, as he picks up his pace effortlessly. The way his muscles flex, the steady rhythm of his push-ups—it’s almost hypnotizing.

“Where’s my encouragement, baby?” he calls out between reps, smirking.

Caught in the moment, you start whispering praises without even realizing it. “You’re incredible. Seriously. Look at you.”

“You better be cheering me on like you mean it,” he teases, not missing a beat.

You chuckle, your heart swelling with admiration, and give him a soft squeeze on his shoulder. “Okay, okay, you’re the strongest guy in here. Happy?”

“Good,” he says with a satisfied grin, pushing himself up again. “Now, don’t go falling off. I might need a spotter.”

God, you love your strong boyfriend—and all his ridiculous, charming ways.

navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! the mha EP!

"RIGHT WHERE I LEFT IT" — Bakugo Katsuki

a/n : OK OK just think ab Bakugo with a tattoo of his wife’s lipstick stain? this might be my fav work atp content : fluff. kiss kiss kiss. secret marriage. pro hero bakugo. bakusquad freaking out. 1k words.

Bakugo doesn’t come home quietly, he never has.

The door closes harder than necessary, not slammed, but firm—final. The kind of shut that says he’s done with people, cameras, lights, and noise. You hear the usual rhythm of him dropping his keys, kicking off his shoes, muttering something low under his breath as he moves through the apartment. He doesn’t come straight to you. First, he changes, washes off the evening and leaves the night behind.

You’re already lying in bed when he finally comes in. The light is soft, not too dim. The bedroom quiet in the way you both like it. You’re stretched out on the covers in one of your nightdresses—simple, mid-thigh, familiar. Something you didn’t think twice about putting on. When you glance up and see him standing there, cleaned up and still carrying the weight of the night across his shoulders, you don’t say a word. You just open your arms.

He doesn’t hesitate. Crosses the room and sinks onto the bed like he’s been walking toward you all day. He fits into you without effort, head tucked near your collarbone, hand on your waist, body relaxing piece by piece as he lets the noise fall away. You hold him quietly, running your fingers through his hair.

“Long night?” you mumble, running your hand on his large, glorious back. “Fuckin’ nightmare,” he mutters, voice heavy against your skin.

“You left your collar open.”

He groans under his breath. “Didn’t realize it was that low.”

“They saw it.” you tease him.

“Yeah, they wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”

You press your lips to his neck—soft, warm, familiar. He exhales through his nose, shoulders loosening just a little. You kiss the spot again. Just below his jaw. Then again. And again. Each one slow, thoughtless, part of you. Over the tattoo. Over where it began.

You’ve been kissing him there since U.A.

Back then, it was new for both of you, despite being well into your third year. That was the first time you both really let someone in. It wasn’t a fling—both of you had tried that with other people before, but nothing had ever stuck. Not for him. Not for you.

You never talked about it much. Not with the others. It was your first serious relationship. His too. You kissed him there before every mission, every big test, and sometimes just because it felt right. He used to roll his eyes at you, muttering that it was dumb—but he never pulled away. Never told you to stop.

No one knew, really. Just Kirishima, and Deku. They were the only ones who ever saw through the both of you. You and Bakugo didn’t broadcast it. You didn’t need to. You found your rhythm in empty hallways and quiet dorm rooms, the days between training sessions when no one else was looking. When he’d get too stubborn to admit he needed a break, you’d pull him into a corner, press your lips to that spot, and he’d sigh like you’d taken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Back then, it was just you two.

Tonight, it’s not a secret. Everyone saw it. The tattoo. The kiss. Japan exploded over the fact that Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had a lipstick stain tattoo on his neck. They speculated. They made guesses. They screamed about the mystery woman who had permanently marked him.

You’re smiling softly to yourself when the video comes through—Kirishima’s message, the one from the event, the one where Bakugo is surrounded by the squad, the camera flashes going off, and Mina is practically yelling at him.

“BAKUGO, TELL ME WHO KISSED YOU—WHO KISSED YOU AND WHY THE HELL IS IT TATTOOED??”

Kaminari is screeching behind her. “DID YOU JUST TATTOO SOMEONE’S LIPS ON YOUR NECK?! WHO ARE YOU HIDING???”

Sero’s already holding up his phone, looking like he’s trying to figure out if he’s witnessing a crime. “Dude, WHO is she? This is next-level.”

You even notice Todoroki standing in the back, looking at Bakugo curiously also wondering about his tattoo. And Kirishima, standing off to the side, is grinning from ear to ear, like the smug bastard he is, knowing full well what’s really going on. Then he texts you,

guess your soft launch is on 😌

You can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head as you set the phone down. When you look back at Bakugo, his eyes are half-lidded. His fingers are still tracing the hem of your nightdress, and you know he’s trying to let go of the tension from the evening.

You lean in and kiss the tattoo, just below his ear, where it’s always been.

“Let them guess,” he whispers. He exhales, pulling you closer, his lips pecking your lips. “They won’t figure it out,” you says, voice laced with amusment.

“Good,” he agrees, “They never will.”

The kiss on his neck is more than a mark. It’s the secret only you’ve ever shared. It’s your couple's trademark, something that will always be yours.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

TAGLIST (OPEN). / @ayatakanosstuff @arwawawa2 @itsmeaudrieee @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @andysteve1311

nanami doesn’t argue.

that would imply there’s a debate to be had. there isn’t. you’re wrong, and he’s right, end of story.

except right now you’re standing over him, arms crossed over your chest, smirking, and somehow — he’s the one apologizing. on his knees, too.

his fingers skim the inside of your wrist to the faint lines of your palm, thumb gliding over the crease of your fingers. tracing a slow, thoughtless pattern like he’s waiting for you to say something.

he exhales, sharp. “love, what exactly am I doing?”

“apologizing,” you bend closer. barely an inch, but enough that the air between you feels warmer, “..because you feel bad?”

his fingers tighten — just a little — before they smooth over again, sliding down to the ends of yours, holding on like he’s considering it. “I don’t.”

you raise a brow, irritated now. “no?”

he sighs, long-suffering, but doesn’t let go. if anything, his grip shifts, trailing down until he’s holding onto the end of your sleeve instead, brushing over your knuckles, still here, despite how tired he looks.

you press, voice softening, teasing though expectant. “do you feel bad at all?”

there’s barely a second joining the words and the way he moves — your back meets the kitchen counter with his hand around your waist, breath against your lips when he murmurs, “I do.”

his fingers slipping under your shirt at your hip as he exhales, words slipping out on your mouth:

“I’m,” kiss. “so-” kiss. “so.” kiss. “sorry,” kiss. “baby.”

you laugh into it, fingers curling into his sweater, breathless in a way you’re sure he notices. he pulls back to see the look on your face — the one that means you know you’ve won.

and for once, nanami doesn’t argue.

papa?

picking up your husband iwaizumi hajime after his days work at the gym is over with your baby wrapped up on your chest. something had gone wrong with his car, resulting in it currently at the repair shop being fixed. this left you and your one year old son in charge of pick up duty. you slide open the door and step into the vast gymnasium of japan’s national men’s volleyball team, greeted with the sound of shoes squeaking on freshly polished hardwood floor and the smack of volleyballs being spiked over the net. sitting on a bench off to the side of the court is hajime, writing some type of report in a notebook with a focused expression. you walk along the sidelines to him, holding your baby’s head to shield him from any unsuspected volleyballs that may fly your way.

hajime only looks up from his work as you seat yourself next to him, typical. he’s always so focused and invested in his job. only during his work hours is he like this, though—he always makes time for his two favorite people.

hajime smiles at you and places a kiss to your temple in greeting, putting his notebook and pen off to the side before shifting in his seat to face you more directly. “hey. didn’t realize you were here.”

“must’ve lost track of time again, right?”

“as usual,” he admits a bit sheepishly, “i really need to finish filling out this sheet of supply orders for next month.”

“hmph. you have that nice smart watch but you hardly ever pay attention to when you need to clock out of work,” you gesture to the sleek black band on his wrist as you speak.

“sorry, love i—” his words are cut off by the babbling of your son, who’s stubby arms are reaching for his papa. he looks up at his dad with wide and admiring eyes, dawning the same tan skin as his father and the same deep brown color in his wispy head of hair and irises. there’s not a doubt in sight that he’s hajime’s child; he’s practically the spitting image of him.

you two can’t help but chuckle at his efforts to cling to his dad, his movements restricted by the wrap holding him close against your chest. “you wanna give papa a hug?” you coo.

the restraint doesn’t give in, and your son looks up at you with an adorably frustrated face of confusion and surprise at the spectacle. “you can’t get anywhere in this wrap, huh?” you say as you gently pull him out of the restraint, handing him off to hajime.

once your son is in hajime’s arms, it’s within an instant that he wraps his small and chubby arms around his neck. hajime holds him securely against his chest, an affectionate laugh escaping his lips at the way his baby boy looks up at him with such adoring eyes. “looks like you really missed your papa,” hajime says fondly before placing a peck to the top of his delicate head. at this, your baby giggles loudly and begins to blabber incoherent sentences, ones that hajime pretends to understand nonetheless.

“you know, once we got here, he kept asking me ‘papa?’ the whole walk from the parking lot to the entrance. i guess he recognizes this place pretty well now.”

“oh, really?” at your words he peppers kisses all along your son’s chubby cheeks, “papa missed you too. so, so much.”

and it’s not without your son first being showered with praise and love from the team that the three of you leave to go home, praise that your baby accepts with innocent giggles and lots of squirming—all from the comfort of his papa’s warm embrace. undoubtedly his favorite place to be.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: iwaizumi is such a good boy dad. a little self indulgent bcs i have big baby fever.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

match point

hajime opens the door, blinking blearily as the permanent fluorescents of the hallway greet his eyes. he drags a hand down his face, taking a quick opportunity to take you in, your shorts and knees (the left one has a nasty green bruise, leftover from his forcing you to try indoor climbing last week) and fuzzy socks peeking out from your sneakers. your shirt almost swallowing you, making the jacket you’re wearing look oddly cropped. your hair sticking straight up.

“hi, hajime,” you say, yawning uncontrollably. “thank you. sorry.”

“no problem,” he says, “come in, it’s too bright.”

inside, there’s only the pinpoint of his cell flashlight on, a beacon leading you to his room—first left in the hallway, you really would be able to find it blindfolded. you don’t act like it, though, putting a hand on his back and closing your eyes while he forges forward. the light brush of your fingers over the thin t-shirt he’d pulled over his head thirty seconds ago is the confusing kind of thing leaking out of his dreams.

“there’s a protein shake pack there, watch your—yeah. your step.” the warning comes just in time for you to stub your toe as he shuts the door behind the both of you.

he busies himself digging in his closet while you swear as quietly as you can.

“you want the bed? i’ll take the couch,” he offers.

“‘m not kicking you out of your own bed at—” you squint at your own phone screen. “3:47 a.m. i just really appreciate you letting me stay over, haji. thank you so much.”

“not your fault your roommates set off the fire alarm at 3:47 a.m. seriously, take the bed.”

you were lucky, he thought, lucky he had your contact set to break through Do Not Disturb, lucky he lived a floor above you so you didn’t have to scream hysterically at them for waking you up like this again in the middle of exam season. the violent string of texts he’d woken up to (and the distant shrieking of your apartment’s alarm) had made him laugh so hard he’d typed come over almost without thinking about it, i promise i won’t hotbox the bedroom while you’re trying to sleep.

“let’s just share,” you suggest, and he fumbles the spare blankets in his hands. he’s glad he’s facing away from you. “it’s too early to fight.”

“too late,” he corrects you. “you sure we’ll both fit?”

it’s a reference to your freshman year, when you used to climb into his twin XL bed and lie on top of him so neither of you were falling off the edge. physical affection was more common for you then, before he’d realized that his dumbass had gone and fallen in love with you and you were just his very affectionate friend.

“yeah, you have a big boy bed now. i miss the lightning mcqueen sheets, though.” you’re already hanging the jacket on the back of his chair, crawling through the vast ocean of cotton to curl into a ball near his pillows. he checks his phone again, wondering if he ever really woke up. he has dreams, secret, shameful ones, like this often.

there’s a song and dance missing. shouldn’t he be fighting harder to take the couch? building a pillow wall? as he joins you, even as he’s stretching his body out and feeling his left shoulder pop, you gravitate into him. he puts an arm around you, his bicep thick enough beneath your back to make you shift around to get comfortable again. your fuzzy sock-covered foot pushes up the ankle of his sweatpants.

“hey, wait,” he says. you make a soft sleepy noise that breaks his heart to hear like this: so close, and yet not at all. “was that my jacket you were wearing? the one i’ve been looking for?”

“yeah,” you nod into his chest. “you gave it to me last time we went out.”

“oh, i’d forgotten,” he hums. a few more moments pass, his own eyelids getting heavy.

“i like wearing your clothes,” you tell him, “it makes me feel like you’re my boyfriend.”

maybe in the morning he’ll do something about that; for now, he sleeps with your deep, even breathing an inch away, the warm glow of something new and right and shared suffusing his chest.

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^^

you taught me a secret language i can't speak with anyone else

bakugo x reader

Something that should've annoyed him when you guys were friends instead pulled him closer to you.

Your talkative nature and ability to make a small idea turn into a ted talk was something he admired about you.

From talking to him about how awful your day was at school, to how you saw a squirrel give another squirrel a nut on your way home. It brought him a certain type of comfort he didn't know he needed.

He appreciated the way you knew when to speak.

Never in the middle of a lesson, or when someone else was talking. He especially enjoyed the little sparkle in your eyes when you looked to him with something you wanted to talk to him about later.

Once the person finished talking, you'd pull Bakugo away to go on your tangents.

As the two of you ate lunch together, his gaze locked on your face as he enjoyed his lunch. Watching as you spoke, his lips almost quirking into a smile as you raised your hand to cover your lips as you chewed your food. Making sure to be courteous when talking and eating, even if it was in front of your boyfriend.

Your eyebrows pinching in a confused expression as you asked him what he was looking at, your mouth still covered by your delicate hand.

Bakugo just shook his head as he told you to continue talking. Watching as you shrugged your shoulders and finally put your hand down to freely speak.

He knew all your little mannerisms, some you probably didn't even know you did.

Late after school, the both of you sitting together in his dorm room after eating dinner, his eyes locked on his laptop as he finished the last assignment of the week.

You knew he was busy and couldn't contribute much to the conversation so you didn't mind his lack of response, the short "mhm" and "oh yeah" being enough to satisfy you.

But as your story came to an end and your voice trickled to a stop, you sat in what you thought was an awkward silence.

Bakugo knew you loved talking, but you also did that to fill the empty silence. Your mind turning anxious as the quietness let your thoughts run free, your mind starting to get overwhelmed.

He saw your small quirks out of the corner of his eye, the way you fidgeted with your hands, twisting your fingers as your eyes darted around his room to look preoccupied, your brain trying to come up with something else to say.

As his fingers stopped typing, the clicking stopped leaving the two of you in dead silence. Making your mind race even more as you tried to come up with something to say fast.

Your chest started moving faster as your breathing quickened, your anxiety piling up as you tried to think of anything to say.

Something touching your hand snapped you out of your thoughts. The feeling of his warm hand connecting with yours in a soft grip as he typed with the other.

"What was that thing you were going to tell me about earlier?"

Your hand unconsciously tightened around his, "What? I thought I finished telling you everything," you said confused.

"You said you had news about your friend's boyfriend issues." Bakugo said nonchalantly, acting like he wasn't trying to soothe your overworking mind.

He watched as you looked deep in thought, your head scrambling as you looked through your memories. Before your eyes brightened and your smile got wider as you remembered.

Your voice breaking the silence and filling his ears with your recollection of earlier events.

He might've helped your anxiousness because he was being a good boyfriend, or maybe he just enjoyed the sound of your voice.