Katsuki Bakugo X F!Reader | 18+ | Royal ! AU

i have finnaalllyyy finished my hw i’ll write it tomorrow

BAKUGOU x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ Innerbloom (What So Not Remix) - RÜFÜS DU SOUL

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

BAKUGOU (BNHA) x WORK PARTY ☆NYE EDITION☆

REQUESTED BY ☆ @i-hate-your-guts-babydoll

LENGTH ☆ 3.2k

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! Fuck buddy Bkg, mutual pining, office sex, creampie, alcohol mention, dubcon (alcohol), a single ass smack, fingering, light degradation, use of “slut” and “brat”, slightly rough sex into more meaningful sex, bkg puts his hand over your mouth to shut you up lol, it gets hot and heavy (and sappy) at the end, reader and bkg are both idiots who are bad at feelings (:

AN ☆ Happy New Year’s! Let’s pretend I didn’t finish this a week after actual NYE lol. Katsuki held me hostage and made me write him just a little softer — it was completely against my will and not indicative at all of how much I really do love him. Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this request and I hope you enjoy! <3

“If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours…”

You don’t really like fireworks.

That’s what you’re thinking to yourself as you lean against the side of the building, head tilted upwards. Soon the sky above will be filled with sparks of color, faraway specks of firelight that burst and dance through the air before making their descent down to earth. But for now, there is only darkness; There are no stars in the vast ocean of black, every little twinkling light chased away by the cruel brilliance of the city. You miss the stars, but you much prefer the empty sky to one filled with fireworks. You’re savoring the silence for now — well, the closest thing you can get to silence in the city on a night like this. 

Milky white wisps and curls around your face as you take another drag of your cigarette, cherry tip sizzling in agreeance. Excited squeals and boisterous laughter leaks out from the office building behind you, a reminder of the work party you’re trying to escape for a moment. The smoke in your lungs blows out on a long sigh. 

New Year’s is not your favorite holiday. It’s not even your second favorite, or your third. You’d hardly even count it as a “holiday” in your mind. Really, it’s more of a marker, a white line painted on the cement that somehow signals both the finish and the start all at once. Feet step over the thick strip of paint and cheers ripple through the air – and then you blink, and the pop of a gun startles you. You’ve finished the race, made it through the year, but the race simply begins again. And in that maddening loop you are forever caught. Forever running the same circular stretch of pavement. Over and over, year after year. 

And the waving flag just up ahead also reminds you of all of the loose ends you’ve left to flutter in the wind behind you. Some have called you cynical, many have called you negative, but the truth of the matter is that you don’t really see New Year’s as sweet opportunity. The New Year is sour, stale. Another year, another rotting pile of the unfinished, the unfulfilled, the unanswered. 

And then one of those unanswered questions saunters right out into the courtyard with you, heavy footsteps reverberating in the night.

“Y’really shouldn’t smoke those.” The voice is deep, gruff. From that, and the annoyed click of his tongue when you take another drag, you know exactly who it is. 

“Oh really?” You look down at the cigarette between your fingers, and feel a warm body settle in next to you. “Why’s that?”

“‘s’bad for yer health.”

You swivel your head, eyes finding your nag. Sharp features, piercing crimson, and ash blonde hair that, despite the clean-cut dress shirt and slacks he’s wearing, is still undeniably wild. 

“So is picking fights with violent criminals,” you quip, tilting your face up towards his defiantly, “but you don’t see me telling you how to live your life.”

Amusement spreads slowly across his face, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. He turns his head and snorts a small laugh, trying his best not to give you the satisfaction. Noticing the pink dusting his cheeks and the drink in his hand, you realize — he’s drunk. It’s a rare occasion to see Dynamight drunk.

Dynamight is the most successful sidekick at the agency. Fresh out of college, he’s made a name for himself quickly. As the agency’s head dispatcher, you work closely with the team of sidekicks, serving as their coordinator and reliable point of contact when they’re out in the field. Surprisingly to many, you and Dynamight work well together. He’s a hard worker and a quick thinker, which makes your job easier. And you have thick skin and a sharp tongue, which comes in handy when dealing with him. Ultimately, a mutual respect had eventually settled between you. 

Among other things.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette to the floor, you extend your foot to stamp it out under your heel. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze always so damn heavy.

“I like that dress,” he tells you, tipping his glass to his lips, regarding you over the edge of it.

“I’d offer to let you borrow it,” a small smile to accompany the playful lilt in your voice, “but I don’t really think it’s your color.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop bein’ a smartass, you know what I mean.”

Turning to him, you cross your arms loosely over your chest. This is your favorite game to play with him, especially when he’s in a good mood — like after a successful capture, or when alcohol has loosened his usually tight demeanor.

“I don’t think I do know what you mean.”

He pushes himself off the wall and is in your space in a moment, eyes narrowing, a smirk on his lips. “I like that dress on you,” he says, a low growl that makes your heart flutter in your throat, “But I think I’d like it better on the floor. Or ripped to shreds. I’ll let you choose how I take it off you, just this once.”

“Mighty generous of you, Dynamight.”

A sneer, and his eyes bounce down below your nose. “Keep up that little attitude and I’ll ruin more than just your dress.”

The unanswered question that hangs heaviest between you was born from the fact that you and Bakugou have been regularly hooking up for four months now, and you haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck he really wants from you. 

It had started a lot like this – a night warmed by alcohol and a budding sexual tension. You had been surprised when your coworkers told you Bakugou would be tagging along to happy hour after work, and you were even more surprised when he’d drunkenly insisted on walking you home after. (“‘s’not safe,” he’d drawled, hands stuffed stiffly in his pockets.) A slightly awkward kiss in front of your door had turned into many heated kisses through the doorway, and down the hall, and into your bedroom, and tangled in each other until the sun peeked through your curtains.

But he was gone when you woke up. The only evidence that he had been there at all was a plate of food set neatly on the counter with a scrawled note that told you to “go buy some real groceries”. When you next saw him in the office, it was like nothing had happened. He strapped on his hero uniform, and you perched yourself in front of your web of monitors, and neither of you even so much as stole a knowing glance. But when his voice crackled through your headset, deep and rough and spitting curses, you could feel the heat simmer beneath your skin. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same – until he confronted you weeks later at another office outing about ‘avoiding him’. He fucked you hard in an alleyway near the bar that night, a leg hiked up roughly around his hip after you both realized you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other long enough to make it to your apartment. 

The hookups became regular after that, the flirting more brazen. But the nature of your relationship remained a mystery. One that became more and more perplexing with each note left on your counter, each lunch that appeared on your desk, each cigarette snatched from your grasp and stomped into the pavement.

Those questions itch at the back of your neck but, when Bakugou brings his lips closer to your ear, the warmth of his breath and the rumble of his voice always has a way of soothing them. “The conference room is unlocked. Go in there and wait for me.” 

And when he has you turned around with your hands braced against the long conference desk, his chest pressed to your back and his hard cock rubbing against the curve of your ass, any doubts that may have plagued your mind suddenly fizzle out completely. Each kiss sucked into your neck, each curse breathed into your hair, each spark of frustration squeezed into your hips – it all empties your mind of any logical thoughts and leaves behind nothing but a burning stretch of need.

His palms are rough but his touch is tender as he feels you, explores your dips and swells with equal parts care and hunger. It’s like they can’t choose a spot to settle on, running over your arms, kneading at your tits, digging into your waist. You push back into him, reveling in the feel of his thick cock trapped between your body and his. And his hands finally find purpose, one coaxing your face to turn and meet with his for a sloppy kiss, the other snaking under the hem of your dress to grip at the fat of your ass. 

“I like this dress,” he breathes against your mouth.

You chuckle, “You told me that already.”

“Well I’m tellin’ ya again,” he grumbles, “fuckin’ brat.”

He grips your hip hard, forcing you to grind back on him. You peer at him over your shoulder, rolling your hips against him, grinding harder, and watch his lids droop and his jaw slacken at the pressure. There’s an inky darkness cast over the empty conference room, but the glitter of the city is spilling through the high windows just so, highlighting the mist of lust in his eyes. 

He’s perfectly disheveled in his formal attire, suit jacket abandoned, sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms, tie loosened and slightly askew. It makes your chest ache to see him like this, makes something bubble up in you that you’re inclined to swallow back down. And you think you see something on his face that mirrors your thoughts, something in the way his gaze softens when he’s looking you over in the dim light. 

You gasp when you feel his fingers against your clothed pussy, and he snickers, a cocky expression back on his face in an instant. “You’re soaked already,” he notes with a laugh, “I can feel it through your panties.”

Matching his energy, you reach back to palm at his cock through his slacks, smiling when you hear his sharp inhale. “You gonna keep talking shit all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

The heavy weight of his hand between your shoulder blades forces you down, bending you over the desk until your chest is smooshed against the cold surface. He yanks your dress up, pushing the slinky fabric until it’s gathered around your waist, exposing your ass to the cool air. Blunt nails dig into your flesh, then a harsh swat to your cheek makes you yelp and snicker.

He’s grumbling under his breath as he fiddles with his zipper, complaining about your smart fuckin’ mouth and telling you how he’ll shut you the fuck up. You peek back and bite down on your lip when you catch a glimpse of his cock being pulled through the open zipper of his slacks, so hard that a vein bulges along the side and a glistening bead of pre drips from the tip. 

And then his finger is hooking under the thin fabric of your thong, knuckle brushing against your pussy as he pulls it to the side. An anticipatory shiver rolls down your spine as you watch his neck crane down, and then you feel a warm drop of spit hit the tight ring of your ass. It drips through your folds, until two fingers catch it at your clit, running back up and gathering wetness to push back into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says as he works his fingers into you, a domineering hand on your back keeping you bent over the desk, “This how wet you get thinkin’ about me railing you in the middle of the office?”

His fingers curl into you, the pad of his thumb coming to rub at your clit, and your back arches, a whine escaping you. “Got nothin’ to say now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, shooting a glare back at him. “Bakugou, if you don’t just fuck me already I swear to—“

His hand clasps firmly around your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your face forward. The tie around his neck tickles at your back when he arches his hulking form over you. 

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” His growl sends a shiver down your spine, and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he continues, “Or else the whole office is gonna hear what a slut you are for me.”

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt to grasp his cock at the base. He swipes it along your folds, gets the head coated in your juices. You’re holding your breath, feeling the familiar push of his tip against your entrance, and then he’s finally sinking into you, groaning along with your muffled exhale. 

He fucks you hard and deep, pulling on your hip to force you back and meet his sharp thrusts. The moans he punches out of you are caught in the shell of his palm, your muted cries and snorts of breath sounding downright animalistic mixed with his grunts of pleasure. It’s so good, the way he’s manhandling you, the way his cock drills into you, the way his hand feels hot and dominant wrapped around your face – you can feel your core tightening, ready to burst and spill all over him.

But then you hear excited yells coming from down the hall, and your eyes widen. 

Your hand slaps frantically against his arm, and he quickly releases you, hips stalling as his mouth opens to ask if he’d hurt you. 

“They’re about to start the countdown!” You exclaim, breathless.

A pause. “So?”

“So…” The end of your thought hangs heavy between you. 

Why does that matter to you suddenly? You don’t even care for New Year’s, would go so far as to say you dislike it. So why does the symbolism of counting down the hour suddenly feel so important to you?

Bakugou is perceptive, and the answer comes to him before it does you.

“What, ya worried about a New Year’s kiss? I’m literally fucking you in the office, I think we’re a little further along than that.” 

He snorts, expecting you to find the thought funny. But you don’t laugh. Crimson bores into the back of your head, willing his gaze to penetrate and unveil what you’re thinking. He takes a deep breath, and then softens a bit.

“Fine, c’mere.” 

And then you’re being whipped around to face him. Fingers splay across the base of your neck, his hand strong and sure as it cradles you there, and he steps forward into you until the backs of your thighs are pressed against the side of the desk. His other hand helps you settle yourself on top of the surface, and then he’s slotted between your thighs, sticky cock resting against your mound. Your noses nestle together, so close his warm breath ghosts against your mouth when he parts his lips to speak. 

“Three…” He murmurs against your mouth, joining the raucous counting just outside the door. His voice vibrates your lips, and when his tongue flicks out to wet his own you feel it graze you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, can practically taste it. 

“Two…” Your gaze flits up from his mouth, and you find that deep carmine is already waiting there for you. Burning hot, piercing right into you like a blade from a fire. His hand slips to the small of your back, pressing you even closer against him, and your bodies mold together like well warmed clay.

“One…” And as the world erupts around you, his lips find their place pressed against yours. It’s soft, but full of an intensity that rings so much louder than the cheers that bleed through the walls. The boom of a firework echoes through the city, then another, but you don’t notice. Everything around you is muffled, the celebration light years away. In your world it’s almost silent – save for the soft sounds you swap between you, and the deafening beat of your heart.

You kiss again, and again, lips and tongues chasing after each other in a rhythmic dance. It’s different, the way you’re clinging to each other and losing yourselves on each other’s breath. The change is palpable, the tension so thick that it seems to dunk you both beneath it until you’re gasping for air. The question is there again, but this time it’s more than just an itch, not something you can swallow down. It’s trembling, shooting up towards the heavens, on the verge of bursting into a million flaming pieces. 

In the heat of it all, you find yourself angling yourself on the edge of the desk, him grabbing hold of his cock to line it back up with your entrance. He presses forward, sinking into you again with a sigh that you eagerly swallow. He fucks you deeply, kisses you deeply, never fully leaving you as he rocks into you and tangles his mouth with yours over and over again. 

There’s no room for words between you, no air to form them with, until your head finally falls back and your legs wrap themselves around his hips. Only then does he press his forehead to yours, holding you firmly by the back of your neck, and speaks to you with a hungry rasp you’ve never heard before. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he tells you, brows knitted together, pupils bleeding into the deep sea of red, “Look so fuckin’ gorgeous tonight – fuck, I wanna see you cum – ngh-need you to cum with me.”

He’s not fucking you hard, or fast, but he’s massaging into you with a different kind of intensity, carving a meaningful space for himself inside of you that your body welcomes with equal parts desperation and passion. The heat of it all is so strong, so bright, that it ignites you in an instant. Your orgasm rips through you, separates every tiny piece of you and sets it ablaze. Bakugou holds you tightly against him the whole time, head damp where it’s connected to yours, talking you through it in a pleading voice, “So fuckin’ gorgeous — god, look at me, keep your eyes on me, baby fuck gonna cum with you, gonna—“

And then his hips stutter, and he’s spilling over inside you, panting and swearing as he follows you over the edge. He unloads himself completely into you, and a heady warmth radiates deep in your gut as you both breathe deep, ragged breaths together. 

The pop of a firework startles you both, and your heads turn together just as a supernova of color fills the darkness. It dances across your face and glitters in your eyes, and you don’t notice the way Bakugou watches you, don’t see the way you’ve eclipsed everything else in sight. 

“Y’know, I didn’t think I liked fireworks, but now I’m not so sure,” you hum thoughtfully as you watch another pretty one explode in the distance. And Bakugou laughs, small and dry. Because he’s always been sure. He’s always loved fireworks.

... give me the soft bakugo 👀

If this flops or gets me ostracized from the fandom you’re uninvited to my birthday party-

-

Bakugo could never stay awake during movies.

It was a problem for him, genuinely. The amount of times he’s fallen asleep, and grumbles in annoyance when you tell him the movie’s over is truly staggering. It’s not that he wants to miss the action, he’s just so exhausted from being… well. Bakugo, that when the end of the day comes, and you’ve got a hand buried in his hair and a blanket tossed over you both, he never stands a chance.

And it’s a ritual at this point, merely part of your daily routine. He comes home. He showers. He curls up against you, and before the movie’s rising action can start, he’s out cold.

And nine times out of ten, you’re more than willing to stay, scratching his scalp and watching Bakugo’s handsome face twitch and lax with each detail of dreams…

But today? The one out of ten? You’re fucking hungry.

You so wish you’d eaten before you decided to be his snuggle buddy for the next few hours, knowing he’d already had a bad enough day and you leaving to have a snack would only disturb him further, but if it wasn’t you slowly leaving the warmth of bed, it would be your growling stomach.

Okay. Slowly now. You pinch the arm that’s tossed over your waist and slowly lift it up, slipping from under the appendage and out to freedom.

Once out of his warm embrace, you quickly scurry to the kitchen for a sandwich- heavy enough to get through the night, but light enough where you can quickly eat it- and a quick look through of your phone so you can update your friends and family to be officially his for the night.

And it seems to all go well! He’s still knocked out, as you assumed he would be after such a long day, and you’re just about ready to bite when-

“…the hell in the fuck are you doing?”

The voice makes your eyes wander from the brightness of your phone screen, to the culprit himself, standing in the hallway with sweats low on his hips and a blanket wrapped around just the top half of his torso. He knuckles his tired eyes, his lips in a sleepy scowl, and god he looks so snuggly you want to bring him straight back to his warm bed and let him sleep off the day.

But your rumbling stomach would never allow that.

Stopping your staring, your teeth hover over the sandwich before coming down to a biteless close, and you look at him with a clear of your throat, “I’m… eating?”

“You left the bed.”

“Yeah, because you don’t like crumbs-“

“You left me in the bed.”

You blink at him in complete confusion, trying your hardest not to laugh in his face as he growls deep in his throat, “you left me alone in the bed, to make yourself a sandwich!”

“Well I sure as hell wasn’t going to wake you up,” you snort, watching as he struggles back a yawn to continue his ‘threatening’ look. “You were tired babe, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Well… well I didn’t like not knowing where you were,” he grumbles. “And when I pat the damned bed and it was empty, that was an even worse way to wake up.”

All an elaborate way of saying ‘I didn’t like that you left me and our cuddle time.’ You could’ve sworn he’d only be mad if you’d woken him up in the process of leaving, but that’s very clearly not the case. When a loving grin spreads over your face, you know he knows he’s been figured out, and he crosses his blanket-covered arms and avoids your gaze. “Awww, Katsuki-“

“Don’t even.”

“Did you want me to-“

“Fuck off.”

“Stay and snuggle?” His words of empty threats do nothing to deter you from finishing your sweet coo, which he scoffs at while you slowly pull out the chair next to you for him to sit in. “Baby, you know I’d never leave if I knew it would make you upset!”

“It didn’t make me up-fucking-set,” he growls, but he does let his long legs carry him to the chair next to you, plopping down sleepily while maroon eyes struggle to stay awake. “It’s the principle of the matter- you leave, you fuckin’ tell me where you’re going. End of discussion.”

You snort and shake your head at his words, finally taking a bite of your sandwich and thus, ending the conversation. Despite his efforts, he doesn’t look half as mad as he thinks he does, lips pouty and cheeks a titch flushed from your affectionate words and the last remnants of sleep being pulled from his soul.

“For what it’s worth,” you hum, slowly tugging his chair closer to yours, which he instantly rests his head on your shoulder when he’s close enough. “I always want to cuddle with you, too, stinky.”

“Quit it with your stupid pet names,” he grumbles. “I am a man, and I find it disgusting the way you are able to make my heart race.”

“Of course you do,” you agree with him to relax his protests, turning your head to kiss the fluffs of hair that adorn the crown of his head. “Let me finish eating, then we can go nap for real.”

He grunts, a pouting language for ‘fine,’ before he lets you eat in slight peace, just without the use of your right arm which is now being held hostage by his own two limbs.

“C’ I have a bite?” He mumbles, opening his mouth expectantly, as if already knowing you’d say yes. You chuckle and bring the sandwich to his lips, which he bites softly and chews slowly. “‘fank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“Gross.”

this is so adorable 🥺 i want to be loved like this

Kaminari watched with a quirked brow as you walked straight into the common room and plopped right down next to Bakugou, who opened his arm to allow you to curl into his side.

Sure, it amazed him that Bakugou even had the means to score a partner, let alone one would could just come in and plop next to him, interrupting whatever game he was playing on his switch, but…

Kaminari was moreso interested in whatever you two were doing than thinking about the other complexities of your relationship.

“What do you want?” Bakugou asks, his nose burying in your hair.

“Hngg.”

Bleach blonde eyebrows furrow in frustration, “you do realize it’s almost 10 pm, right? I’m not doing that.”

“Mmmnn!” You push your head against his shoulder, and he snarls at you.

“Don’t you ‘mmmnn’ me! It’s fuckin’ dark out.”

“Do you have any lick of a clue what the hell is going on?” Kaminari whispers, a hand covering his mouth in an attempt to keep his question between himself and Kirishima. Kirishima tips his head as he watches you and Bakugou… talk? to each other on the loveseat just feet away.

“Honestly man,” the redhead sighs, tipping his head in thought. “No idea.”

“You want Aizawa to kill me?” Bakugou mumbles, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. “Dumbass. Because he will.”

“Hmph..”

“Yeah, I should’ve expected you to say that.”

“Say what?” Kaminari whispers, the pitch turning into a whine, gentle fingers tugging at Kirishima’s tee-shirt. Kirishima shrugs and continues to watch the… conversation.

“Come on,” Bakugou pleads, “can’t I just give you some of my chips? I’ll take ya to get some snacks tomorrow, I promise-“

“Mmmmnnnn…”

Bakugou groans and tips his head back, blinking up at the ceiling as if trying to work up some strength. “Hey, idiots,” he grumbles, making the two of his friends tense up in fear; Kaminari visibly trembles, he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he just really wanted to know if you were okay-

“What time does that stupid convenience store close for the night?” The blonde asks, and Kirishima watches as your lips, peeking from Bakugou’s neck, curl up into a smile.

Kirishima shrugs, “I… think they’re 24 hours. Or at least open until real late. I think they stop making food at 1 am though.”

Bakugou groans. Kaminari sees you stifle your giggles, your fingers curling on his shirt. You grunt again, and Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Fucking- fine.” He turns back to his friends with a snarled lip. “You dickheads want anything?”

“Uh…” Kaminari begins. “I’ll… take a strawberry juice, if you’re offering.”

“I’m not, but my insignificant other is.”

Kirishima chuckles, “I’ll take an egg roll. Thanks man.”

Bakugou gives a subtle nod and turns his head back down to you, “you’re coming with me-“

“Mmmnnnn…”

“Oh hell no!” He barks. “If I go down, you’re coming with me, you shitfuck!”

Once again, you laugh into his neck, and even if kaminari and kirishima don’t understand the dynamic, it feels good to see Bakugou smirk in your hair and nuzzle into you.

“Mmmuvyounnn.”

“Yeah yeah… love you, too, or something.”

i need more of this

and katsuki’s a bitch. he jokingly mocks y/n’s moans after their done.

“you know our neighbors are gonna file a complain about you right?”

“katsuki?!!? why?? what did i do????”

“ahhh— oh my god! fuck! katsuki! fuck that’s so good! ahhh! i’m gonna—”

“i hate you”

does it with all his body weight on you and kissing up your neck. he smells like you and it’s making you feel woozy. hand on your waist to hold you tight close to him and he’s so equally cute and annoying.

Boi why everyone make iwaizumi the athletic trainer be a personal trainer. They’re different things dafuq don’t disrespect the sports medicine 😾

Bro is partially the reason I’m studying what I am…

Only You Could

Request: I'd like something about bakugou having a crush (neutral pronouns for reader)

I really hope you enjoy it!!

bakugou x gn!reader

masterlist

wc: 1k

He had so many things to focus on, he couldn’t spend time worrying about his frivolous crush. But how could he not when you’re just so perfect.

He hated you. Katsuki Bakugou was bound for greatness, not love. Romance just wasn’t in the cards for him. Well, that’s what he tells himself at least. He’s a grown man for god's sake, he shouldn’t have all eyes on you. He’s got a goal to focus on!

But boy is it hard to focus when you’re there. The way your soft voice rings through the conference room, the way you lock eyes with him when he speaks, giving him your undivided attention. God, he feels like he can't breathe when you look up at him like that. It wouldn’t be so much of a problem if it didn’t interrupt his work, but on days like today he just wanted to curl up and die.

There were about thirty heroes sitting around the long wooden tables, police officers and government officials standing all around. And even though he hated the media spotlight, the Firey man was the one selected to give the presentation.

“The fuck?! Why me, couldn’t you do it shitty Deku?” He says in his normal harsh tone.

“I-I’m sorry Kaachan, the board wants you to do it since, you um... uh never do them...” His voice getting softer and if Bakugou wasn’t right next to him it would have been inaudible.

Now here he is trying to get this over with as soon as possible going from slide to slide, effectively and efficiently talking about the task at hand. He’s made eye contact briefly with anyone in his line of sight because, even though he doesn’t do it often, the guy’s a great public speaker. But as he makes his rounds, you're the only one he avoids. The poor man doesn’t know if he’ll be able to continue if he looks your way.

But even knowing this, Bakugou gets so engrossed in the presentation he slips up and meets your gaze. Beautiful round eyes looking at him, showing that you’re listening. He stumbles over his words for a second, before stopping completely, just gazing at you softly. But you don’t let this go on for long, assuming he’s nervous. So, to reassure him to keep going, he’s doing great, you send him quite possibly the sweetest smile he’s ever seen in his entire life.

That’s it. He tapped out. He apologizes before swiftly making his way out of the room, seemingly telling everyone he was done, the meeting was done. The action went unnoticed by everyone except the blonde’s best friend. Kirishima jogs out of the room to catch up with him before he makes it too far.

He steps in the elevator just before it closes and the larger male grumbles incoherent words under his breath, his friend's presence completely going over his head. About a thirty seconds pass of the spikey red head waving his hand in front of Bakugou’s face before he finally gets through. “Hellloooo, earth to Katsuki!” He shakes his head seemingly trying to shake the thoughts away along with it.

“What was that about man?” Kirishima speaks in his normal enthusiastic tone as Bakugou glares.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He questions faking innocence. A smirk grows on the other male’s face at the embarrassment his friend must feel.

“Oh, you know, just leaving the room when we were only like three-quarters of the way done because you made eye contact with Y/N. Oh and that little smile they gave you, how cute! They’ve got the biggest crush on you ya know. But you’re not a relationship kinda guy so not like it would matter to you.” He states facing forwards but giving a little side eye to try and see the blonde’s reaction.

“How do you know that?” He growls, taking a step closer to the other male.

The elevator dings off at his floor and as he starts to walk off, he yells, “You can totally see it in the way they look at you. You know what they say bro! The eyes are the windows to the soul!” And just as his sentence finishes out, the doors close once more, only to leave Bakugou mortified. If Kirishima could see it in you, does that mean you saw it in him? What if he was just pulling his leg? What if you didn’t see him like that?

He makes it to his stop, letting the doors open fully before stepping out and making a beeline for his office. He’s a grown man. He tells himself for the nth time this week. His schoolgirl crush wasn’t going to go anywhere and the sooner he realized that the less disappointment there would be in the future.

His phone chiming breaks him out of his thoughts as he goes to see who is bugging him. But as he reads your name, he nearly drops his phone, scrambling out of excitement that you texted him. The lovesick boy tries so hard to contain his enthusiasm when he reads your text.

You: You did so good!!! Def not like those other meetings that drone on forever and ever, anyways I just wanted to tell you good job. :)

Boy the way his heart melted and was practically dripping onto the ground.

Katsuki: No big, I'm good at everything remember.

Cockiness is seeping through his tone even through the screen. Deciding that he’s had enough of this hopeless pining he makes his first big boy move ever.

“Come on, Katsuki. You got this, how hard can asking someone out be.” He whispers to himself.

Katsuki: How about since I did so good, I take you out for a celebratory dinner?

You: Isn't that more like a reward for me? Free food and a handsome date!

Katsuki: Trust me, if you only knew ;)

You giggle at your phone, looking like a crazy person kicking your feet at your desk, squealing in excitement.

Bakugou Katsuki hated you. But only because you make him feel something he thought he never could.

suggestive. college au boyfriend!bakugou. installment II “poor timing”

He’s barely awake when he picks up his phone from where it’s charging near the bed, blearily sliding in one of his amplifiers as he presses it to the side of his head.

“Th’fuck are you callin’ me at 2am for?”

Kirishima pauses from his side of the line, curious male voices leaking into the speaker that irritate in their familiarity. “Are you just waking up?”

“What the fuck else would I be doing?”

“That’s what I’m wondering too.” He plops himself on the large bean bag sitting in the middle of his roommates floor, after knocking on his door for what felt like hours. Kaminari starfishes against his comforter, and he has to snap a few times to stop Sero from going through his friend’s stuff.

“Dude, where are you?” He asks. “Your truck’s not in the parking lot. Are you at a hotel?”

Bakugou stays silent for a long moment, fleeting as it is, it's a little disconcerting, and the chat runs empty as the sound of a running fan hisses through the static.

He sighs, brief movement stirs sleepily under his bicep and he figures it’s best to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’m with ____.”

“You’re-“ Kirishima stammers a little. “Can you say that again?”

“I’m at _____’s apartment.” Bakugou repeats himself - he’s obviously trying to be quiet.

“No fucking way! Dude?!” Kaminari chimes in from somewhere in the room, because of course he’s on speaker. “Like is she right next to you?”

“Can you be any fuckin’ louder?!” Bakugou whisper-yells.

“She totally is, isn’t she?” Sero chimes in. “Did you two fuck?”

Kirishima grimaces up at him from where he’s sitting. “Don’t be crude.” Though, he hesitates a moment before speaking a little closer to the speaker. “Wait, did you?”

Bakugou kisses his teeth. “What the hell was so fuckin’ important that you had to call me at two in the morning anyway?”

“Well, those of us who weren’t out getting some wanted to know if you wanted to play DnD. Since it’s the weekend and all.” Sero says.

“But I guess now you’re too good for the loser club, now that you’re some bigshot with a hot girlfriend.” Kaminari pouts.

Bakugou audibly scoffs. “I was never a part of the loser club to begin with.”

“Says the guy who’s gonna make us look for another DM in the middle of a campaign.” Kirishima retorts. “Seriously, you couldn’t have picked a better night to fuck ____? With you two gone Jirou’s gonna wanna take over your post - and she always gives us the worst scenarios.”

“They’re not that bad.” Bakugou jumps a little when the hand around his waist slithers to wipe at her sleepy eyes, cursing hushedly before the men hear him quietly apologize away from the speaker.

His three friends blush as a familiar voice leaks softly into the receiver.

“What’re you doing…?”

“…Nothin’, angel. Go back to sleep.”

The three squeal in unison.

Bakugou kisses his teeth again, whispering angrily into the speaker. “Shut the fuck up. And don’t call me this late, again!”

Click!

i need more of this

and katsuki’s a bitch. he jokingly mocks y/n’s moans after their done.

“you know our neighbors are gonna file a complain about you right?”

“katsuki?!!? why?? what did i do????”

“ahhh— oh my god! fuck! katsuki! fuck that’s so good! ahhh! i’m gonna—”

“i hate you”

does it with all his body weight on you and kissing up your neck. he smells like you and it’s making you feel woozy. hand on your waist to hold you tight close to him and he’s so equally cute and annoying.

so cute!!!!!

his pretty girl

okay tumblr didn't want to touch this with a 10 foot pole yesterday so i am trYING AGAIN wc: 2.2k cw: afab reader, subspace, praise, explicit sexual content

You found Bakugo in the spare room, but it wasn’t hard—you heard him let out a loud string of expletives aimed at someone on the other end of his headset from your spot across the house. Despite the venom in his voice, he’d been in a good mood all day, and it made you feel bold enough to interrupt his game. It would only be for a second, after all—and you missed him.

“Do you have eyes in that big ass head of yours or—” he was cut off by the soft squeak of the door as you pushed it open. He tipped his head back to look at you, eyes crinkling as he watched you linger in the doorway. He threw an arm over the back of the chair lazily, beckoning toward you as he turned back to his game. You padded over to him, leaning against the back of the chair to watch over his shoulder. The arm he’d thrown up to you snuck around the back of your neck—it definitely looked and felt like a headlock, but you knew it was Bakugo’s version of affection.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked you, eyes still on the screen.

“Wanted to show you something. And I missed you.”

His lips turned up at the corners at that. “Oh yeah? C’mere then,” he patted his lap, and you gladly obliged.

You settled over top of him, legs dangling over either side of the chair. You leaned into him, pressing your face into the side of his neck. His arms came to rest around you, and you felt the controller against your back as he continued to play. You heard the familiar voices of Kirishima and Denki in the headset, and it made you smile. Bakugo hardly saw much of his friends these days, as he and the rest of them were swamped with work now that they’d been thrown into the pro-hero world, but you thought it was nice that they were still able to do things together like this.

“You wanted to show me somethin’?”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Oh, yeah,” you paused, moving to hold your hands out in front of you, “look! I painted my nails, and my ring came in.”

He looked down, regarding your work. He would be remiss to say that his favorite shade of burnt orange against your skin didn’t do something for him, but his eyes zeroed in on the ring on your finger. He’d sent it to get resized after discovering that you were a weird half-size, and the way it wrapped around your finger had his heart constricting in his chest.

“So it did,” he breathed, grabbing your hand in his and moving it side to side, watching the ring glint in the light. You hummed.

“Thought it looked pretty,” you said somewhat bashfully—you hadn’t expected him to inspect it so closely. You were acutely aware of a spot you’d missed with the polish on your ring finger.

He looked up at that, eyes trained on yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine.

“Hey, dumb and dumber, I gotta go,” he said into the headset, already pulling it off before he heard the protests of his friends. He turned the console off from the controller and dropped it on the floor next to his chair. His hands came up to grip your hips, and you squeaked at the harshness of it. He pulled you closer to him and dropped kisses over the skin of your shoulder.

“What’re you gettin’ shy for? Of course it looks pretty. My baby’s always pretty,” he told you, punctuating every other word with lips that made their way up your neck.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, and you felt the groan rumble in his chest. He was on his feet then, dragging you up with him in his arms. He walked you down the hall to your bedroom, setting you down on the linen sheets of your bed. He hovered over you, leaning down to resume his kisses over the ridges of your throat. He opened his mouth to suck gently on your pulse point.

“So pretty, all the time,” he murmured, lips dragging up your jaw, pressing chaste kisses up the bone until he nipped at the spot behind your ear, pulling a gasp from you.

“I think my pretty girl needs to be made to feel good, yeah?” His gaze met your half-lidded one and you nodded dumbly, making him grin. He leaned down to meet your lips, and it was hot and heavy and suffocating, the way he consumed you so easily. His tongue licked into your mouth as his hand slid under the sleep shirt you wore. You moaned at how warm he felt as he palmed at your chest. He chuckled when you broke the kiss to help him pull your shirt over your head.

“Aw, you hurtin’ for it?” His tone was mocking-- it settled deep into your core and lit every nerve ending on fire. At his words, your hips jutted up and made contact with the thigh he’d placed between yours, and you let out a pained groan. You couldn’t help but get carried away with him. He never let you live it down, but he always gave you what you needed. Even if he made you plead for it.

He leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly. You let out a choked breath at the pressure, and then a moan at the way he soothed over it with his tongue. He alternated between each nipple and between tongue and teeth until you were a writhing mess underneath him. “Katsuki,” you choked out, half delirious, “please—need you.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, pressing open mouthed kisses down your tummy, pausing to suck on the skin above the hem of your underwear, “m’gonna give you everything you need. Be sweet for me.”

You nearly keened off the bed when he pressed a chaste kiss to your clothed core. He dragged his tongue over the wet spot you’d created, pausing to inhale deeply.

“God,” he ground out, “smells fuckin’ divine.”

Your body twitched involuntarily with every touch. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, hips jutting upwards and praying he’d give you something substantial. You felt your stomach drop at the tsk he let out.

“Want you to look at me, pretty girl,” and it was gentle in a way that surprised you—usually his tone was a demanding one that had your blood buzzing in your veins, eager to do whatever he asked of you. This was almost worse, though, with the way the love saturated his voice sent white hot arousal pooling in your gut. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the grin spread across his face.

“There she is,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours as he hooked a finger through the waistband of the fabric and pulled it from your legs. His eyes drifted to your exposed cunt.

“Oh,” he breathed out, and you mewled at the way his breath brushed over your sensitive folds, “never gonna fuckin’ get tired of this.”

He brushed the back of his pointer finger through your heat, and you let out a moan that would’ve embarrassed anyone who heard it. It just egged Katsuki on, though, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to your clit.

“Kat—hah,”

Your body thrummed with need and your hips moved with a mind of their own. You fought to keep your eyes open as he licked a long swipe straight up, pausing at your clit to let you grind yourself against his face. He moaned his approval and the vibration of it melted every cohesive thought from your brain. He pulled back and you couldn't stop the whine that tore itself from your throat.

“Always done up, just for me. Fuckin' luckiest man alive. Tell me,” his eyes met yours and you shivered at the hunger you saw there, “who’s the prettiest girl in the world?”

Your eyes went wide at his question, and you whimpered at the feeling of the pad of his thumb brushing devastatingly soft circles over your clit. You could do nothing else but gasp out an “I—huh?”, slurred with pleasure. The grin on his face was dangerous.

“Want you to tell me,” he told you, pressing down harder on your clit and turning your whimpers into broken moans, “who the prettiest girl in the world is.”

Your face grew hot and you cursed the blush that surely crept over your cheeks. You weren’t necessarily in the dark about your looks—you certainly agreed with him most days that you were pretty. But this was new, and you felt vulnerable, with his sharp eyes fixed on you from between your legs. You wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of his affection--to avoid the way it almost felt humiliating, to say something so simple-- but you knew better. You wanted to be sweet for him, after all.

“I am,” you muttered, almost inaudible, but you’d guessed he’d heard it if the lips wrapped around your clit were anything to go by. You cried out, dangerously close to falling apart, and then he pulled away.

“You are…?” He teased, back to tracing little circles over your pulsing cunt. You whined, and it bordered on brattish. You sucked in a breath and gathered your resolve.

“I-I’m…the prettiest girl in the world.”

He slipped a thick finger into you and crooked it upwards, fucking into you slowly and letting you drag your aching clit over his tongue with every stuttered movement of your hips.

“Tell me again,” he ground out, reveling in the way your face contorted with pleasure, but your eyes never left his. You really were very good, and all for him.

“I’m the prettiest girl in the world,” you groaned out, less bashful in your attempts to chase the high he could feel you approaching. You were familiar with the headspace he was pulling you into-- you were wholly overwhelmed at the way the vulnerability tangled itself in the wanton want you felt, and your throat burned with emotion. You knew anything he pulled from you next would be absolutely pitiful.

“Oh, I love you. Again.”

“I’m the prettiest girl in the world!” Your words were broken, tears spilling over your lash line and head snapping back at the feeling of the flick of his tongue over your little nub. Your love and your pleasure fell from your mouth in unintelligible babbles, and you distantly wondered if he'd always be able to reduce you to this with seemingly minimal effort. His free hand wrapped around the skin of your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into it as you shook under his ministrations, and you knew he was trying to ground you.

“One more time, sweet girl.”

“I’m—oh my god, fuck, fuck—the prettiest girl—”

You were cut off by the force of your orgasm, and Katsuki would’ve sooner died than stop what he was doing for a second, feeling the way you clamped down on his finger as he fucked you through it. There was no stopping the way your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, mouth hung open in a sob as the blinding pleasure lash through your body like a whip. Your vision was fuzzy as you came down, and you barely registered Bakugo as he hovered over you, pressing his lips to the tear stains that lined your cheeks.

“So good,” you heard him say, and it was like you were underwater, “did so, so good for me, pretty baby.”

You whimpered as he pulled his finger from your body and popped it into his mouth, sucking the last drops of you away as you watched through heavy eyelids. The sight of it curled in your gut, mostly because you knew that it was not intended to be as erotic as it looked—he just genuinely liked how you tasted, and would never pass up an opportunity to do so.

He caged your head between strong arms and bent his neck down to press kisses to your forehead. You let out a soft sigh, feeling a new wave of tears threaten to spill at the intimacy of the moment. Your hands found purchase in the T-shirt that you certainly just ruined and you clung to him, pulling his chest to yours.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, lips to your ear, and you nodded, believing him wholeheartedly and letting the tears slip out. He kissed them as they fell.

“My sweet, pretty baby,” he cooed, repeating it softly as he carded his fingers into your hair and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You sniffled and leaned into his touch, prompting his mouth to find your temple again. He happily obliged.

You held each other there for what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, tangled and devastatingly open, relatively silent save for the whispers of Katsuki’s love into your ear. The weight of it settled into your chest, where it pushed everything out of the way to make room for the enormity of his love. Your mind focused on the ring that you rolled around with your thumb, feeling the dip of the engraved words he’d had etched inside the band. He whispered those same words into your ear now, and you turned to press your smile into his in reply. You quite liked the idea of a forever like this.