Bakugo Would Say The Most Out Of Pocket Things Just To Get A Reaction Out Of You, Followed By That Shit

sober ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

“Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding. 

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

© dekuneho 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate. do not input this to AI.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

hello!! im new on ur account and ive been loving all the things u write! can i request reader being drunk from girls night and shes soooo clingy with katsuki while hes removing her makeup and making sure she’s comfortable 🥹 i can js imagine katsuki saying “mhm, miss you too babe now tell me how to remove your stupid waterproof mascara.”

Clingy Drunk Babe

Katsuki barely had time to catch you as you stumbled into the apartment, your arms instantly wrapping around his waist. You buried your face into his chest, sighing dramatically.

“Missed you soooo much,” you mumbled, voice muffled against his hoodie.

“Tch. You were gone for, what, four hours?” Katsuki grumbled, but his arms still found their way around you, steadying you before you could fall over.

“Too long,” you whined, looking up at him with glassy, adoring eyes. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” he said immediately.

You gasped, scandalized, then squished his cheeks between your hands. “Liar.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue but let you pull him down into a sloppy forehead kiss. He sighed, then scooped you up bridal style, carrying you straight to the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s get all this crap off your face so you don’t complain about it in the morning.”

You giggled, kicking your feet playfully. “You’re sooooo strong, ‘Suki.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah, keep sweet-talkin’ me, drunkie.”

Setting you down gently on the bathroom counter, he grabbed your makeup remover, reading the label with a frown. “The hell is ‘micellar water’? This just fancy water?”

You giggled again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, ears going pink as he grabbed a cotton pad and started wiping at your foundation.

He worked in silence for a while, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he cleaned your face. But when he got to your eyes, he paused, scowling at your mascara. “How the hell do I get this stupid waterproof shit off?”

You giggled, nuzzling into his neck. “Mmm, miss you.”

“Mhm, miss you too, babe, now tell me how to remove your stupid waterproof mascara.”

“Oil cleanser,” you hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “Top shelf.”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath but grabbed it, diligently working until your face was clean. Once he was done, he pulled back, inspecting you with a satisfied nod. “There. Now let’s get your ass to bed before you pass out on the damn floor.”

You grinned sleepily, reaching for him again. “Only if you cuddle me.”

He rolled his eyes but easily lifted you into his arms again. “Yeah, yeah. Like I’d leave your needy ass alone right now.”

You giggled, curling into his warmth as he carried you to bed. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, tucking you in and sliding in beside you.

And even though he pretended to be grumpy about it, Katsuki held you extra close that night.

katsuki running his hands through your hair. you yell at him because he’s ruining your curls, but it feels too soft for him to stop. after a while you look in the mirror to see the fluffy mess he’s created, turning your head slowly to meet his gaze, face pouty and all. he decides to himself right then and there he’s never seen anything more precious. you decide he has 3 seconds to run before you get your hands on him.

Thinking of Armin cumming in his pants just from a bit of heavy kissing.

He’s already dizzy the second your tongue pushes into his mouth, so sensitive, he’s softly bucking his hips against your stomach, your thigh, whatever part of you is near enough for him to rub up against. When your hands start roaming his upper body and your lips start moving from his mouth to his neck, suckling on his ivory skin and mouthing over the shell of his ear, he quickly squeezes his thighs together and moans out loud. When you pull away, confusion etched over your features, Armin covers his face in embarrassment, parting his legs to show you the mess he’s made, staining the front of his pants.

dating hc’s

k.bkg x f!reader

warnings: cursing

a/n: my first k.bkg post !!😋 this is a bit short because i wanted a quick writing break from all the outsiders stuff

✩₊˚.⋆💥⋆⁺₊✧

very loyal; he holds himself up high, theres no way he would ever cheat on someone

not very pda like during his highschool years, most he would do is hold your hand but kisses and hugs are not likely during school

loves to brag about you subtly

“what do you mean shes weak? y/n’s more capable of beating me then any of you extras !”

“tch, talk bad about her one more time and ill kick your ass.”

even with a girlfriend, he still goes to bed at 8pm, he’ll try forcing you to do the same

“dumbass if you keep sleeping late (10pm mind you.) then you’ll start lacking in training.”

secretly loves whenever you steal his clothes and wears it around him, especially if its in the common room

gets jealous super easily, doesn’t matter if you’ve known a guy since childhood, he’ll never trust any guy around you (he wouldn’t tell you unless it becomes an issue)

hes actually bad at comforting. during highschool, hes not the best at understanding emotions. he would try his best but it might not be enough for everyone.

“stop overthinking dumbass, your stupid if you think i’d ever look at someone else.”

“you seriously think your not pretty enough for me? you must be sick in the head.”

the only way he’d actually date you is if you were capable of taking him on in a fight.

loves to cook for you, not that he’d admit it. he would sometimes leave bentos of food outside your door, coincidentally your favorite dishes

only wants to spar with you or the baku squad, anyone else would have to be because of class

the first one to visit you if you ever got injured

was scared to hold your hand at first because he’s naturally sweaty but you didnt mind at all

would be even cuter if your quirk made you naturally more dry; making you love to hold his hand

doesn’t use any ‘exotic’ pet names, mostly uses your name or baby/babe, once in a blue moon he would say sweetheart

“im going down to the store later, do you want me to get you anything y/n?”

“tch, keep cutting your vegetables like that and you’re gonna cut your hand. give me the knife baby.”

a lot of stay home movie dates, because you need to get authorized to leave the dorms, most of the time you guys just watch stuff in each other’s dorms

your first kiss was on accident. bakugou tripped and fell on your face during sparring

doesnt like people touching his hair or styling it but he would allow you to play with it

because of the fact hes trying to be the #1 hero, it might seem like he has no time for you, but if you tell him he’ll just say your dumb for thinking that and give you a kiss on the forehead

loves being the big spoon because it makes him feel like he can protect you

tries to teach you how to cook but he always ends up taking over

loves being affectionate behind closed doors after not doing an pda the whole day

has your contact name as mrs. explosion murder 🧡💥 or just y/n 🧡

was super scared during his kidnapping because of the fact he didn’t know if he would see you again

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Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

Warnings: smut w/o plot, first time, creampie, unprotected p in v

A/N: during his first time with you, Bakugo is caught off guard by the expression you make

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t used to feeling uncertain, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. In fact, he hated it. Confidence was a part of him, woven into every fiber of his being, but tonight, as he hovered over you, his cock buried within the warmth and slickness of your tight pussy, his heart racing in tandem with yours, doubt had snuck in like an unwelcome visitor. Fearless and brimming with confidence, the young pro hero who could take on nearly any opponent without breaking a sweat now found himself in uncharted territory. 

Bakugo had never been this close to someone before. Sure, he'd been in countless fights, bodies colliding in the heat of battle, his skin pressed against opponents in the chaos of combat. But this? This was different  - this was intimacy on a level he'd never known. It was raw, vulnerable, and new. His heart pounded, not from adrenaline, but from the weight of the moment. It was his first time, and thankfully, it was with the person he cared for the most, the one he loved with every fiber of his being - Y/N.

You were warm and soft beneath him, your skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he moved against you with a mix of urgency and care. His breath was ragged, heavy, and every touch of his fingers against your skin seemed to ignite a trail of fire that left you gasping for more. His hands roamed your body, firm but gentle, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you. 

His lips brushed your neck, tracing the delicate skin there as you arched into him, your body responding instinctively to every subtle shift in his thrusts. His name escaped your lips, breathless and soft, and the sound of it seemed to fuel him further.

Wet, sloshing sounds filled the room. You were hot down there, your pussy now a frothy heaven for Bakugo’s cock. His dick bumped and rubbed against your insides, reaching places that made you whimper and your lips tremble. 

Katsuki picked up the pace, and you grabbed his ass and hooked your heels over the back of his massive thighs. His hands, usually rough and calloused, were tentative now, roaming across your hips and thighs with an almost unfamiliar gentleness. "Is this good?" he asked, his usual gruff tone softened by a vulnerability he wasn't used to.

You could only nod, a soft moan escaping your lips as his lips found your neck, teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your entire body shiver. You were already lost in the sensation, but Bakugo was hyper-aware of everything - of how your body moved beneath him, of the rise and fall of your chest, and especially the way your face started to change as the pleasure built between you. His cock was thick, and you moaned whenever your pussy stretched further, trying desperately to accommodate him fully. 

Bakugo was cautious, almost too much so, taking his time with every touch, every caress. The weight of his inexperience pressed heavily on his shoulders. He sped up as the warm lick of your sweet pussy wet his crown, and your spongy walls hugged his reddened glans in a velvet blanket of softness. Bakugo moved faster, a little harder with every thrust.

You smiled up at him, your breath hitching slightly as his rough fingers slid over your skin. “Just like that, Katsuki, fuck me harder,” you begged, rolling head backwards, resting it on his pillow.

His sharp, crimson eyes studied you, searching for any sign of discomfort. He was fiercely protective, always wanting to do things perfectly, even if it was something as foreign to him as this. He moved with a cautious eagerness, his normally confident demeanor tempered by the weight of wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting you while his rock-hard cock was penetrating your slick vagina.

But then it happened. As he pressed forward, his hips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, he noticed something - your face. 

It started to shift, contorting into something unfamiliar. Your lips parted, eyes fluttering closed as a moan escaped you, but it wasn’t the sound that made him freeze.

“Wait - wait, what’s wrong?” Katsuki suddenly stopped, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled back just slightly, the tip of his cock still in your sweet pussy, his heart thudding in his chest.

You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, looking up at him with a dreamy, confused expression. “What?” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Why did you stop, Katsy?”

He blinked, completely thrown off by your reaction. “Your face…” His brows furrowed deeply, voice dropping lower in hesitation. “You looked like you were in pain.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing what he said. Then, much to his bewilderment, a soft chuckle escaped your lips, your head tipping back onto the pillow. “Katsuki… I wasn’t in pain,” you assured him, still smiling up at him. “I was- " You hesitated, eyes sparkling with amusement. " -just really close.”

He blinked, clearly confused. “Close to what?”

You bit your lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Close to cumming.”

Bakugo's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. His grip on your hips loosened, and for a moment, the cocky hero was at a loss for words. “Tch!”

You laughed softly, leaning up to kiss him gently, your lips brushing against his in a way that made his heart race. “You’re doing great, Katsuki. You’re not hurting me. You’re making me feel really, really good.”

Bakugo’s face flushed a deep crimson, his mind racing as he stared at you. “I think I found your sweet spot.”

“Yeah,” you interrupted with a grin, reaching up to brush a strand of his blond hair from his forehead. “I was about to come, and you apparently hit my gspot.”

His eyes widened, mortification flickering across his face. “Shit…” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair in frustration. “I thought I hurt you or something.”

You shook your head, your hand finding his again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No, Katsuki. You were perfect.” You couldn't help but smile softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “It’s my o-face.”

His brows knitted together in confusion. “What the hell is an o-face?”

You laughed softly, your fingers trailing down his arm as you explained. “It’s the face people make when they’re close to orgasm. It’s completely normal, trust me.”

Bakugo stared at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as your words sunk in. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reassured him with a gentle kiss on his lips. “You didn’t hurt me. You’re just making me feel so good. Like I would be on cloud nine.”

His face flushed again, but this time with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “Tch! Should’ve fucking known,” he muttered, trying to play it off, but you could see the relief in his eyes.

He had never been more unsure of himself. Not in training, not in battle, and certainly not here, in this moment, with you.

That look on your face - the way your eyes had rolled back, the way your mouth hung open, the way your tongue slid out of your mouth and lolled like a slug - it stuck with him. He couldn't shake it. 

He watched it carefully this time, his sharp gaze never leaving your face as his rock-hard dick moved inside you, adapting your plush walls to his shape. The way your breath hitched, the way your body arched beneath his touch - it was the same, but something felt off. Your eyes were wider, almost unnaturally so, and your mouth hung open in a way that unnerved him. It wasn’t the same as the night before, and it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

His hands roamed across your body, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to leave a mark. He pressed his hips harder against yours, eliciting a gasp from you as his cock hit just the right spot. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest as he dipped his head down to bite gently at your neck when your pussy started convulsing all around his dick. “You’re gonna make that face again, ain’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice husky with need.

You nodded, barely able to form coherent words. “Katsuki, please… don’t stop this time…”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His pace quickened, each thrust sending you closer to the edge, and this time, when your face began to contort again - your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open - he didn’t stop. He relished it. He knew now that he was the one driving you to that peak, and the thought of making you feel that good sent a surge of pride and arousal through him. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, watching you fall apart beneath him. “You look so hot like that, babe.”

This time, when your face contorted with pleasure, Bakugo didn’t freeze. He kept going, fueled by the knowledge that he wasn’t hurting you, but instead giving you exactly what you needed.

“Katsuki-” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your climax ripped through you. Your body convulsed beneath him, and this time, he didn’t freeze. He kept going, riding out your orgasm as you moaned his name, your voice ragged and breathless.

How own orgasm trembled within him. The pleasure started in his thighs, buzzing up to his tight balls and into his core, then through his shaft. His knob tingled, and his cock swelled, still buried within your dripping pussy. He gasped and fucked you faster, gliding in and out of your soaking wet valley as his body began to shake. Colors and lights soared behind his clenched eyelids. 

You bucked your pussy against Bakugo, rolling your hips in a sensuous circle as you flooded your crotches with your wet, sticky cum, moaning his name on and on.

The torrent that streamed through his shaft erupted from his reddened tip in one continuous river, filling your vagina as he trembled above your sweated body, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m cumming…”

When you both finally came down from the high, your body trembling with aftershocks, Bakugo slowed his movements, his breathing heavy and labored. He looked down at you, his chest heaving as he smirked, clearly satisfied with the result. “Fuck. I fucking love the face you make when you’re getting off,” he growled, rubbing his nose against yours as he pulled his flaccid cock out of you, satisfied in more ways than one while watching your mixed releases, a pearly, thick liquid, spilling out of your pussy and dripping down on his sheets.

Bakugo grinned, his cocky demeanor returning in full force. “Damn, that’s so fucking hot,” he muttered before rolling to the side, pulling you into his arms. “Next time, just warn me if you’re about to make that face again. I don’t wanna freak out like an idiot.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll try.

Katsuki having his first fight with his s/o :(

We all know he just gets so unbelievably angry all the time that when something hurts it only comes out as anger instead

so he’s screaming, not necessarily at them but still screaming, and he doesn’t know how to get his point across because his chest is tight and his voice is shaky so he yells because he doesn’t know how to tell them how he feels

and they suggest leaving it off for the night because they already gave up on trying to talk and he mistakes it for them giving up on him

he knows he’s hard to love and it hurts him so fucking bad

while I search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way.

a/n : YOU. NEED TO BURN AT THE STAKE--i mean tysm for the ask mootie !!! youre. so. sweet. but no all jokes aside i think about this like all the time are u sure ur not in my brain, i switched things up juuuust a lil bit bc i actually had a daydream about this lololol, i hope you don't mind <3 much luv !! ps yall this is @lunarfleur’s fault not mine blame them

fem reader, first bad argument, emotionally constipated desperate katsuki i love him anyways, gentle reader, hurt/comfort, kinda making up towards the end, clingy katsu, kissing, mentions of wanting to vomit !! not proofread atm but will fix later ! lmk if i missed sum else !

katsuki cannot for the life of him remember what you'd even started arguing about. all he knows is that he's pissed off. what he doesn't know is why.

katsuki hates how quickly he gets emotional. it makes him so mad, it makes his skin burn. he hates how he feels the burn of tears in the back of his eyes the moment his chest feels tighter and he knows what's coming. so he closes himself off from you. he hates how fucking shaky his voice gets when you pull yourself away from where you were cuddled up just moments ago, so he just starts speaking louder. until he's screaming and his throat is sore and burning.

he doesn't know why he's screaming at you, he doesn't want to. but he's so mad, at you and at himself and he has no other way to say so except for this. it makes his skin burn and itch and his head is throbbing and his heart hammers in his ears. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to fight with you because you’re not like him. you’re not used to just amping up the heat, to continue arguing until the other submits and you come out victorious.

instead, you sigh. you’re frustrated but you don’t scream. you’re quiet, and it makes katsuki that much more angry. he tells himself it’s because you act like he’s a child having a tantrum with the way you grip your temples, just so he can stay mad longer. but he knows you’re just tired. your head hurts and your tired of fighting, maybe even tired of him. and that scared him so much.

so he gets louder, gets in your face more. when he’s scared, katsuki gets real mean because he hopes he can scare you harder. but he knows it’s not a competition, you’re not trying to be scarier than him, you were never even trying to scare him but all he did was cut you off, scream at you and scoff at your words.

no wonder you’re tired of him, a little voice in his head nags. his limbs are on fire.

but then your shoulders slump, you sigh dejectedly and you tell him you can’t do this. and it feels like a bucket of water’s been dumped onto him.

you’re saying something, he can see it. but he’s frozen. he can’t move as he watches you wait for something, for him to say something, to act maybe ? but he doesn’t know. what did you mean just now ?

you sigh again, he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates that it comes from you. then he registers you’re putting your shoes on. and he swears he hears you sniffling as you reach past him for your keys and grab your jacket by the door.

oh. you’re leaving.

you can’t do this. you can’t stand being with him anymore and he made you leave. he should be happy, you were being annoying..but fuck he doesn’t want you to go. work had been stressful lately and he couldn’t wait to spend time with you again. so why are you leaving ?

why’d he make you leave ?

you can’t do this, that’s what you told him. katsuki feels like he’s gonna vomit.

when he feels cornered, it’s practically instinct for katsuki to bare his fangs at whatever is keeping him there. he doesn’t feel scared, that shit wasn’t for him. but he’s scared now, so scared that you’ll leave and that you won’t call him when you make it home. so scared that you’ll leave and never come back and he has to live with the fact that he’d pushed the most important person in his life away.

he’s desperate, so he does the only thing he knows. and he begs in his own way.

you can’t even twist the doorknob because the large hands that slam against the door don’t let you. you feel katsuki before you see him. can feel the warmth radiating from him on your back and you see your shadow grow bigger through your misty eyes. you feel him press himself harder against you like he’s trying to trap you between the door and him. you feel his hair tickle your nape and you feel his lips tickle your neck as he presses them there, and you feel like crying.

“katsuki..” you sigh, feeling him kiss all over your skin, your neck, behind your ear, your cheek. desperately like he’s on a mission. “katsuki..no.” you whine, craning your neck away from him and he stops then, when he has nothing to reach, when you’re unreachable. he wraps his arms around your middle to keep you to him, to keep you here.

“what..?” he asks, you scoff. looking up at the ceiling to keep from tearing up in front of him, katsuki feels his heart shatter as he looks at you desperately. do you hate him ? why won’t you just let him make it better ?

“i don’t—what are you doing..?” you whisper sadly, his heart pounds. you lean away from hims as much as you can with his arms still around you. he doesn’t tighten his hold, but he doesn’t let go. he can’t risk hurting you.

“i—i’m..” he stutters, searching around on your crumpled up face for anything. he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. his eyes drift around “i’m just—trynna make it up to you..”

“how..?” you ask, and when he keeps looking confused you rephrase “do you even know what you’re making it up to me for ?”

wordlessly, he pulls you closer to him despite you struggling a bit. he noses at your neck, hiding his eyes from you as he speaks again “‘cus i made you sad..” he admits slowly, that’s reason enough for him.

you sigh again then, and katsuki has to use all his strength not to flinch at it. “i don’t like it when you yell at me. and you don’t listen to me at all, that’s what i’m upset about.” you slump over in his arms, like you’ve given up. “i wish you’d get that..” you finish bitterly.

he gets it, he wants to say. he understands now, he’ll listen to you, he swears. but he knows it won’t be that easy. katsuki has no experience with things like this. with relationships and communication to resolve disputes. he wants to know, to learn. for you. but he fears he’s too late and he’s afraid. he hadn’t even realized he was doing the total opposite of what you wanted from him.

“okay, okay. i’ll listen just—” he grits out. he wants to give you space because he knows that’s probably what you want. you want to leave, but he can’t let you. so he shoves his head in your neck selfishly “don’t leave.”

the way he sounds is almost painful, like he’s forcing the words out despite them causing him pain just for you. you don’t want this, you hate arguing with katsuki no matter how petty it is. but it’s never been this bad. it’s not like you find it fun, but you wish he’d just bother listening to others, to you. it might sound like he’s just trying to appease you so he doesn’t have to stay alone, but when he’s like this and in general, to you katsuki is extremely easy to read. and you know he knows he’s gone too far. and you don’t want to leave, ‘cus he’s so warm. but you think maybe he’s a bit overwhelmed and needs some space. he’d been a bit antsy because of demanding hero work lately and you know he hates admitting any type of weakness, so he’d tried to push it away.

of course, it’s no excuse. and katsuki has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong, but you think he’s starting to understand it slowly.

you sigh, his hands feel warm where he’d loosely settled them above your stomach. you squirm a bit in his hold and he lets you, only because you decide to turn to look at him. you hadn’t even realized he’d been so upset, his eyes glossy and a bit red. tentatively, you place a hand on his shoulder and he softens that much more. slowly you reach your other hand up to his face and it hasn’t even made contact for him to lean into it like a magnet. it makes your heart break.

“i think..it’s better if i do..” he flinches, but you rub against his cheek and continue “because i think you need to be left alone for a bit.” he hides his face in your hand. pulling your other one off his shoulder and to his face. you can feel his lip tremble even as he bites hard into it and feel the tips of his eyebrows twitch. “i think you’re tired..right ?” you say softly. he lifts his head up to deny, but his mouth hangs open. katsuki hates having to talk about how he feels more than anything in the world, but if that’s what it takes for you to still love him, he’ll swallow his pride. and he’ll beg in his own way.

he begs you to stay with him by closing his mouth and nodding lightly, sighing harshly as he looks off to the side, grip still on your wrists. his nose nuzzles against your palms. fuck, he could fall asleep like this. maybe he is more tired than he’d realized.

“yeah..” you smile lightly, “so i think it’s better if i go for a while, leave you to think, okay ?” you’re happy he’s sucking up his pride and actually listening to you talk, not raising his voice and actually listening to you. he wordlessly nods to your every word, head bobbling as he agrees to everything, it has you holding back a giggle but not your fond little smile as he presses little kisses into your palms.

he raises his head a bit to hold eye contact “..you mad at me ?” you hesitate before responding.

“i’m still upset, you were being really mean katsuki.” you correct. it hurts, but he nods again, understanding. your heart feels just a little bit lighter.

“‘m leaving now, suki..” and he sighs heavily but he thinks he feels just a bit at ease. his heart feels just a bit lighter when you tell him “i’ll text you when i get home, kay ?”

he wants to ask you to call him instead, he wants to hear your voice but he knows he’s supposed to listen now, listen to what you want. and he nods again. you lean forward just a bit and it’s like he can smell what you want because he meets you halfway, pulling your arms around his middle and pressing his lips to yours so softly, so loving. so not like him, he thinks. but he’ll try for you, he’ll listen.

“i love you.” he whispers when you pull away, you think you could cry just from that. “i love you too.” you sniffle. it doesn’t feel like goodbye, and that makes both of you feel just a tad better.

you pull away and he doesn’t chase after you. he’s still a bit scared, but he doesn’t fight back, and let’s you go. you flash him a shy little smile when you turn to leave and he sends you one back. he stands in his door way when he hears the door clack shut and he stands there some more after you’re gone.

worry gnaws at him as he goes to make himself dinner. it gnaws at him when he’s in the shower and still when he’s going off to bed. but just before he goes to lay down and get some much needed rest, you text him. like you said you would, and katsuki feels he can sleep with a lighter heart.

he’ll rest up. and as his eyes slowly fall shut he swears he’ll make it up to you and never make you want to leave again.

i feel like bakugo would treat you riiightt.. like

(note that this is post character development and probably ooc. also fem reader)

- NOT a scrub if ur a tlc fan

- “my girl” kinda fella

- if he was into pda i feel like around anyone especially other men he’d keep an arm on your shoulder/waist or a hand on your opposite hip just to be like “mine.”

- overall i feel like he’d be pretty possessive. not like TOXIC possessive but like “i want you and no one else, i want to be the only one giving you romantic attention”

- also rejects attention from other women. like you know that one clip of him saying like “YOU TOUCH ME AND YOU DIE” maybe not that exactly but like… he’s YOURS.

- def likes it when you check him out. like “yeah i know you like this”

- his voice sounds sooo nice when you’re pressed against his chest/neck area, like you can feel it rumbling through his chest and it just sounds so deep and yummy from that angle especially cause he’s likely talking directly to you in that hot ass boyfriend way like the “mmhm?” AUCJNHEK

- not necessarily a relationship thing but i feel like he dresses nicely. like nothing too fancy but his clothes match and look nice so he always looks put together outside of school hours.

- workout photos. that’s it.

- sarcastic little shit. like you know he’s always gonna give you a hard time about stuff (it’s out of love i promise)

- he really does care what you have to say. like say you’re telling him about something while he’s preoccupied so he seems like he doesn’t care so you stop talking. homeboy quite literally drops whatever he’s doing and is just like “yeah? go on.”

- i feel like if he had socials rather than putting like your user with a lock or whatever it would just be like “hers” or your initial or smth

- trust he goes bonkers if anyone even DARES to insult you. like idk if you’ll ever see that person again…

okay that’s it

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.