He's Gonna Act Super Cute

aw i love when these freaks share a brain cell

A BOXERS STRUGGLES !

ft. boxer!katsuki bakugo x f!reader

summary: Bakugo is fiercely dedicated to becoming Japan's number one boxer, but he faces inner conflict when he starts developing feelings for someone. His fear of distraction threatens his rise to the top, creating tension between his personal life and his aspirations. As their relationship deepens, he learns to balance his love for her with his desire to succeed in boxing. [wc: 5k]

The gym stank of sweat and blood. The air was thick with the sounds of fists pounding heavy bags, the rhythmic shuffle of footwork against the mat, and the sharp commands of coaches drilling fighters into champions.

This was Katsuki Bakugo’s world. The ring was his domain. The roar of a crowd? Just white noise. The only thing that mattered was the moment his fist connected—the instant he proved, without question, that he was better.

His opponent staggered back, legs wobbling. His ribs were bruised, his breath shallow. He was still standing, barely, but Bakugo could already see it in his eyes.

He was finished.

Aizawa’s voice rang through the gym. “Stay sharp, Bakugo.”

Katsuki Bakugo stood in the center of the ring, fists clenched in his taped-up hands, his breath controlled despite the fire burning in his chest. His opponent for today’s spar was already on his knees, clutching his ribs, coughing through the pain.

“Get up,” Bakugo growled, shaking out his fists. “I ain’t done with ya’ yet.”

The other fighter grimaced trying everything in his power to rise, but before he could, the coach called it.

“That’s enough, Bakugo!” His trainer, Aizawa, sighed from outside the ropes, arms crossed over his chest. “I told you to spar, not destroy.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue and turned away, grabbing a towel from the corner post to wipe the sweat off his face.

“If he’s too weak to take a hit, he shouldn’t be in the ring,” he muttered, stepping out of the ropes.

“That ‘weak’ fighter you just knocked out was ranked fifth in the region.”

“Then I guess I’m already top four.”

Aizawa exhaled through his nose and shook his head lightly, but there was the ghost of a smirk in his otherwise impassive expression. Bakugo had talent—raw, explosive talent that had propelled him through the rankings faster than anyone had expected. But he had a fatal flaw.

He fought like a man trying to bury something.

Something he was afraid to lose.

Bakugo exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he looked down at his fallen opponent. It wasn’t personal. It never was. The guy had stepped into the ring knowing what he was getting into. If you weren’t ready to fall, you shouldn’t be fighting.

“Damn, man!”

The sound of Kirishima’s voice cut through the noise before Bakugo felt a heavy arm slap against his back. “That was sick! You dropped him like a sack of bricks.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, walking toward his corner to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Tch. If he went down that easy, he shouldn’t have been in the ring with me.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, walking toward his corner to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Tch. If he went down that easy, he shouldn’t have been in the ring with me in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re a beast.” Kirishima laughed, leaning against the ropes. “Which is exactly why you need to come out tonight. We’re celebrating.”

Bakugo shot him a glare. “The hell we are.”

“C’monnn, man! You’ve been tearing through the ranks like crazy. People are talking. You’re undefeated, making a name for yourself, and you’ve got fans.” Kirishima smirked. “I mean, how many guys get this far at our age?”

“I’m not doing this for a goddamn party,” Bakugo muttered, tossing the used tape into the trash.

Kirishima groaned. “Bro. You never do anything outside the gym. You don’t even celebrate your own wins.”

Because there was nothing to celebrate. Winning wasn’t the goal—it was the standard.

Bakugo was going to be the best boxer in Japan. That wasn’t just some damn dream or some nice idea to hope for. It was a fact. Something inevitable. And if it wasn’t inevitable, then he just had to train even harder than before.

There was no reason to slow down.

No reason to waste time at some party.

But Kirishima was still looking at him, hopeful as ever, and Bakugo knew the bastard wouldn’t shut up about it.

He clicked his tongue. “Tch. Fine. But I’m not staying long.”

Kirishima cheered. “Hell yeah!”

This is a waste of time.

Bakugo knew it. He knew he should be in the gym, working on his footwork, watching fight tapes, doing something, anything, to get ahead of the competition.

But he ignored the voice in his head, just this once.

Plus, was the worst that could happen?

The party was loud. So agonizing loud.

The bass from the speakers thumped through the floors, shaking the walls of the packed apartment. People were everywhere, drinking, laughing, talking too damn much. Some of them he recognized—fighters from the gym, people from the local boxing circuit—but most of them were just randoms.

“Here.” Kirishima shoved a drink into his hand.

Bakugo took one look at it and scoffed. “I ain’t drinking that shit.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Man, at least pretend you’re having fun.”

Bakugo didn’t respond. He was already regretting this.

He didn’t belong here.

This wasn’t his world.

He was about to leave when Kirishima perked up, eyes lighting up as he spotted someone across the room. “Oh, shit! She actually came.”

Bakugo barely glanced over. “Who?”

Kirishima grinned. “That girl I told you about—(Y/N).”

Bakugo finally looked.

You weren’t flashy like some of the other girls here. You weren’t trying to be the center of attention, weren’t draped over some guy’s arm, weren’t looking at him like he was some kind of goddamn celebrity.

You were just sitting there, talking to a friend, nursing a drink in your hand. You didn’t even seem all that interested in the party at all.

And somehow, that was the first thing that made him notice you.

Kirishima nudged him. “She’s cool. I think you’d actually like her.”

Bakugo scowled. “Tch. Since when do you set me up with people?”

“I’m not setting you up,” Kirishima laughed. “But seriously, man. You need to talk to people who aren’t trying to punch you in the face for once.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here to meet people. He was here to get Kirishima off his back, and then he was leaving.

But then, as if you could feel him looking, your gaze flicked over to his.

And you smiled.

Not in an over-the-top way. Not in that annoying, flirty, “I’m just here for the fighters” way.

Just a simple, amused smile. Like you knew something he didn’t.

And for some stupid, infuriating reason, that was enough to make him stay a little longer.

You didn’t approach him first.

That was the second thing he noticed about you.

You weren’t like most people who came up to him at these kinds of events—all wide-eyed admiration and empty compliments. You weren’t trying to impress him.

If anything, you were unimpressed.

And that… bothered him.

So when Kirishima finally dragged him over to introduce you, Bakugo was already in a foul mood.

“(Y/N), this is Bakugo,” Kirishima said, grinning. “Bakugo, this is (Y/N). She’s cool, I swear.”

You gave him a once-over, raising an eyebrow before smirking. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “Tch. That so?”

“I’ve been to a couple of your fights.” You shrugged. “You don’t let them last very long, huh?”

He scoffed. “Why the hell would I?”

You tilted your head. “I dunno. Wouldn’t kill you to put on a show for once.”

Kirishima snorted. “Damn. She’s got you there, man.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was just some guy instead of a rising champion.

But you weren’t mocking him.

You weren’t flirting, either.

You were just… talking to him.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t sure how to respond.

This was bad.

This was exactly the kind of distraction he couldn’t afford.

The next day arrived as Bakugo got out of bed, the sunlight streaming through his window, casting a warm glow across his room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, he could still feel the weight of the events from the previous night lingering in his mind, making it hard to focus.

Bakugo didn’t do distractions.

He trained. He fought. He won. That was it.

He didn’t waste time at parties, didn’t fuck around with meaningless shit like relationships or making friends outside of the gym. There was no point. The only thing that mattered was getting stronger.

So why the hell had he stayed at that party longer than he intended?

Why the hell had you stuck in his head?

It pissed him off more than it should have.

It wasn’t like you had done anything special. You weren’t drooling over him like most people who recognized his name. You weren’t trying to get something out of him. You weren’t even acting impressed.

You were just… there.

And for some stupid reason, that was what made him notice you.

Tch. Whatever. It doesn't even matter anymore.

He wasn’t gonna waste time thinking about some random girl.

So, as usual, he threw himself into training.

The gym was empty except for the steady rhythm of his fists pounding the heavy bag. It was late—so late that even Aizawa had already left for the night, trusting Bakugo to lock up when he was done. The only sounds that filled the space were the heavy thuds of leather meeting flesh and the occasional creak of the building settling around him.

His body ached, but it wasn’t enough. The burn in his muscles was a reminder of how hard he was working, yet it only fueled his determination. He needed more. More speed. More power. More control. He needed to push himself past his limits, to go beyond what he was yesterday. Each punch felt like a step toward a higher version of himself, a way to stave off the ever-looming fear of being left behind.

Because if he didn’t—if he slowed down for even a second—someone else would catch up. The thought danced tauntingly in the back of his mind, an insidious whisper that he couldn't shake off. He refused to let that happen; he wouldn't allow anyone to inch ahead of him.

So he fought harder, faster, his focus narrowing like a predatory gaze. The world beyond the gym faded, blurring into insignificance as he lost himself in his routine. He was so absorbed in his relentless pursuit that he barely noticed when someone else walked into the gym. The door creaked softly, almost lost in the noise of his efforts, and he instinctively increased his intensity, a faint flicker of curiosity stirring deep within him. Who would dare interrupt his sanctum?

“Jesus. Do you ever go home?”

His fist stopped mid-swing.

He turned, scowling, only to find you leaning against the doorway.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he snapped.

You shrugged. “Kirishima told me you’d still be here. Thought I’d stop by.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Don’t you got somewhere better to be?”

“Probably,” you said easily, walking further into the gym. “But this is more interesting.”

That threw him off. Most people didn’t stick around after his fights. Not unless they wanted something.

But you weren’t asking for anything.

And that was what made you dangerous.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a long sip, trying to ignore the way you were watching him.

“You train like you’re running from something,” you said suddenly.

He nearly choked on his water. “The fuck did you just say?”

You leaned against the ring, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was way too goddamn knowing. “You fight like there’s something chasing you.”

He scoffed. “Tch. You don’t know shit about fighting.”

“I know about people,” you shot back.

His jaw clenched.

Because that was the problem.

You weren’t looking at him like a fighter. You were looking at him like a person. And that threw him off. It wasn’t just the intensity of your gaze; it was the way you seemed to see him—past the tough exterior, into something deeper.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

You didn’t go away after that initial encounter. Somehow, you kept showing up—at the gym, at his fights, infiltrating his thoughts at the most inconvenient times. You’d sit on the sidelines, a calm presence amidst the chaos, watching with that same unreadable expression that both intrigued and frustrated him. You didn’t fawn over him. You didn’t try to flirt or get his attention. You were just… there.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore you, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were gradually unraveling him.

“Yo, you good, man?” Kirishima asked after a particularly exhausting sparring session, wiping sweat from his brow.

Bakugo scowled, his irritation simmering just below the surface. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

Kirishima smirked, a knowing light in his eyes. “I dunno, dude. You’ve been off lately. Like, you’ve been extra agitated every time (Y/N) is around.”

Bakugo’s fists tightened into balls at his sides, his heart racing. “Shut the hell up.”

Kirishima just laughed, unfazed. “Bro. You’re so obvious.”

There was nothing obvious about it, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. The truth was, every time he caught a glimpse of you cheering for him—your lips curled into that soft smile, your eyes sparkling with pride—he felt something shift inside him. Something he wasn't prepared to confront.

It was maddening how a simple presence could ignite a fire in his chest.

He cursed under his breath, pushing the thought aside. There was nothing to even talk about, nothing to feel. Because whatever this was—whatever you were doing to him—he wasn’t gonna let it get in the way.

He refused to let his heart get tangled in the mess of feelings he didn’t understand. But deep down, a part of him wondered if perhaps being a fighter meant more than just throwing punches. Perhaps it meant fighting for something—or someone—worth it.

So, as always, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He trained harder.

And harder.

And harder.

Like he could beat the thought of you out of his head.

Like he could make himself stop wanting something he wasn’t supposed to have.

But no matter how hard he tried…You were still there.

And that was the real problem.

After that night, things… shifted.

He stopped avoiding you. Stopped pretending you didn’t exist.

You still weren’t pushing to be in his life, but somehow, you were just there—closer than before.

And maybe… just maybe… he liked that.

A little too much.

Recently, You started showing up at the gym more.

You never interrupted his training, never got in his way, but he could feel you there. Could hear the way you’d tease Kirishima when he dropped a weight. Could hear your voice in between the rounds of his sparring matches.

And you wanna know the worst part about it?

He started looking forward to it.

“You’re getting better,” you said one day, watching him hit the pads with his trainer.

He wiped sweat from his brow, smirking. “Tch. ‘Course I am. I’m not some weak-ass rookie.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never said you were. But you used to just go for the kill every fight. You’re starting to actually think in the ring.”

His smirk faltered.

Because that was true, too.

He fought like a ticking time bomb, each punch a detonation of raw power that sent shockwaves through his opponents. His reputation was built on pure brute force, but recently… everything had shifted.

He was evolving.

Taking a breath.

Learning the game.

Maybe it was because, for the first time, he had someone whose opinion actually mattered to him.

Shit.

This was spiraling out of control.

It wasn’t just in the ring anymore.

You started showing up in his life outside the gym, too. After every match, you’d be there, thrusting a water bottle into his hands before he could even catch his breath.

“You’ve got to hydrate, dumbass” you’d tease, rolling your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And hell, he found himself addicted to the way you called him a dumbass with that playful grin.

Then there was that one night when Kirishima dragged him to a late-night diner, and there you were—totally unexpected.

But instead of bailing like he usually would, he took a seat next to you in the booth. He picked at his food, captivated by your animated argument with Kirishima about something ridiculously trivial. When you nudged his arm, asking for his take, he found himself responding.

Because he wanted to.

Because you were a blast.

Because, for just a moment, fighting faded into the background.

That’s when things got really complicated.

The real trouble started the moment he stopped denying it.

When he started craving your presence.

When he caught himself stealing glances at you when you thought he wasn’t looking.

When he realized your laughter was now his favorite melody.

And then the late nights came, when he lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what you were up to.

Did you think about him, too?

Oh hell.

He was in deep.

And he had no idea how to navigate this storm brewing inside him.

Bakugo didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him.

Scratch that—he knew.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

For weeks now, he’d been stuck in his own goddamn head, trying—and failing—to pretend that you weren’t the reason his focus was slipping. Every training session, every sparring match, everything just felt… off. It had gotten worse.

Everything about you messed with him.

The way you chewed on your lip when you were thinking, lost in a world that felt miles away. The way your voice softened when you spoke to him, just a little, as if he wasn’t the disaster everybody painted him to be. The way you looked at him—eyes bright and curious—like he was more than just his fists, more than the explosive temper that often burned those around him.

And now? He couldn’t fucking stand it.

Because he wanted you.

Badly.

And it was driving him insane.

“So,” Kirishima said, leaning against the locker room bench, arms crossed with that unnerving spiky smile plastered on his face. “You gonna tell her, or are you just gonna keep making that face forever?”

Bakugo scowled. “What fucking face?”

Kirishima smirked wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “The one you’re making right now. The ‘I’m a grumpy volcano that’s about to erupt’ face.”

With an annoyed grunt, Bakugo yanked off his gloves, throwing them into his locker as if they were the source of all his problems. “I ain’t makin’ a face.”

“Dude.” Kirishima exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You like her. It’s painfully obvious. You get all weird and broody whenever she’s around.”

Bakugo turned his back, trying to hide the heat blooming in his cheeks. “I ain’t broody.”

Kirishima ignored him, shoving his hands into his pockets with a casual confidence that only aggravated Bakugo further. “And she definitely likes you, too.”

That made him freeze.

His fingers tightened around the straps of his gloves, heart hammering in a way he really didn’t fucking like. The thought of you returning his feelings stirred something inside him—a mix of fear and hope that twisted his stomach into knots.

He forced a scoff, trying to mask the turmoil. “Tch. You don’t know that.”

“Bro, she watches your fights like she’s trying to figure you out. No one stares at someone that much unless they’re either obsessed or in love.”

Bakugo clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling up.

Love.

No.

That wasn’t what this was.

It couldn’t be.

Right?

Kirishima leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk in. When she cheers for you, it’s like she’s rooting for a hero.”

He paused, letting his words settle into Bakugo's mind, each one weighing heavier than the last. “You could have something real, man. But if you just keep pretending it’s nothing—”

Bakugo cut him off, spinning around with a fierce glare. “Shut it! I’m not in the mood for your sappy bullshit!”

Kirishima raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You can’t keep running away from this. It’s like you want to explode but you’re holding it back. Just tell her how you feel!”

But the thought of putting himself out there, of opening up, felt like a different kind of explosion—one that terrified him. A battle he wasn't sure he could win.

“What if I…?” His voice trailed off, the whisper fragile, almost foreign to him.

“What if you what?” Kirishima pressed, leaning in closer, eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern.

“What if she thinks I’m a total loser?” Bakugo shot back, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

Kirishima chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s been right by your side through everything. Trust me. She sees you. The real you. Not just the angry guy who blows stuff up.”

And in that moment, all Bakugo could do was stare into his friend's earnest eyes, the wheels turning in his mind. He felt the pressure build within him—not just the pressure of his own chaotic thoughts, but a surge of longing that was hard to ignore.

“What if I try?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Kirishima’s face split into a grin. “Now you’re talking! Just think about it. Taking a leap like this can lead to something incredible. And who knows? You might just find that she’s waiting for you to make a move.”

Bakugo took a deep breath, gripping his locker. The thought of finally breaking free from this never-ending cycle of confusion was both terrifying and exhilarating. But deep down, he knew he couldn't keep pretending anymore.

With every passing moment, the desire to grab you by the shoulders and confess everything grew stronger. He would have to face his fears—head-on, just like he did in every fight.

“Alright,” he growled, determination erupting within him. “I’ll do it.”

As Kirishima gave him a confident nod, Bakugo felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that accompanied every fight—but this time, it was for something much more important than just victory. It was for you. The challenge had been accepted, and he was ready to stop being the broody, angry guy everyone expected him to be.

Bakugo would fight for this, and he wouldn't back down. Not now, not ever.

Kirishima nudged him with his foot. “Dude, just confess already. It’s not like she’s gonna reject you.”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.

Confess?

He wasn’t that guy.

He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t romantic. He didn’t have a way with words.

And what if he messed it up?

What if you looked at him differently?

What if—

Kirishima snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Oi. Stop thinking so damn much.”

Bakugo growled. “I ain’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t thinking, whatever.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Just tell her.”

Bakugo let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Fine.

Fuck it.

If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it his way.

Finding you wasn’t hard. You were always around the gym, watching his fights, teasing him after sparring sessions, lighting a fire in his chest that he couldn’t quite understand.

And just like always, there you were—sitting on the bench outside the gym, scrolling through your phone, waiting.

Waiting for him.

His stomach tightened at the sight.

He shoved the feeling aside and made his way toward you, stopping just a foot away.

You glanced up, a bright smile breaking across your face. “Oh, hey! Good fight tonight. You didn’t completely destroy the guy in the first round this time. Progress.”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the slight tremor. “Come with me.”

You blinked, surprised. “Uh. Okay?”

You stood, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t argue when he began to walk away—leading you down the dimly lit street. The hum of the city buzzed around, cars thudding in the distance, the faint flickering of a streetlamp overhead matching the anxiety in his chest.

Finally, he stopped near an empty park, hands still deep in his pockets. The air felt electric, charged with anticipation and the weight of everything he was about to say.

You tilted your head, your curiosity making you even more breathtaking. “So… what’s up?”

He exhaled sharply, staring at the ground like it held the answers to all his questions.

Fuck.

Why was this so hard?

He could beat the hell out of seasoned fighters, could take punches that would knock most guys out, could bleed for his dream—but standing here, he felt utterly paralyzed.

His hands curled into fists with frustration.

Then, finally—

“I like you.”

Silence.

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Slowly, you blinked.

“…Wait. What?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, transforming your face into a canvas of joy. “I think I did. But you might have to say it again.”

His eye twitched. “I swear to god—”

You laughed, the sound like music ringing through the night.

It irritated him and thrilled him all at once, making his heart race faster.

You crossed your arms, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Okay, let’s pretend I didn’t already know that. Why do you like me?”

His stomach flipped, twisting in a whirlwind of nerves.

“Tch. The hell kinda question is that?”

“A very fair one.” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to explain the impossible. “C’mon, Katsuki. If you’re gonna confess, do it right.”

His face burned hotter than a raging flame.

This is a mistake.

Why the hell am I doing this?

But he was already in too deep.

So, fuck it.

He took a tentative step closer.

Then another.

Until you were right there, just inches away, your teasing expression faltering as you realized the gravity of the moment.

His voice dropped lower, rough yet full of depth. “I like you because you don’t take my shit.”

You inhaled sharply, eyes wide with surprise.

“I like you because you don’t look at me like everyone else does.”

Your breath hitched, and he noticed the way your lips parted slightly.

“I like you because you’re in my goddamn head and I can’t get you out.”

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth, and he saw everything shift in your expression, a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was desire.

And then—

He kissed you.

Hard.

It was a surge of emotion, raw and unrefined. All teeth, heat, and a desperate need, as if the world around them had vanished and there was only you and him in that moment.

This wasn’t some innocent little crush.

This was him breaking.

Breaking down walls that had stood for too long, walls that had been built to keep everyone—and everything—out. But you had found the cracks, slipped through them before he even realized what was happening, and now—now—he was caving.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, desperate, pulling him closer like you couldn’t get enough. And fuck, that was all the encouragement he needed.

He growled against your lips, something raw and almost dangerous, his hands gripping your waist in a vice, holding you there, pinning you against him like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the goddamn earth.

You gasped, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss—hungry, reckless, all-consuming. It was messy, all teeth and heat and the undeniable, electric pull between you both.

He wasn’t thinking anymore.

He was just feeling.

You tasted like something dangerous. Something he couldn’t get enough of—like a match striking against gasoline, igniting something deep inside him that had been waiting to burn.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he let out a shaky, almost desperate breath against your mouth.

More.

He needed more.

The feeling of your body against his, the heat of your skin seeping into him, the way your nails raked up his back, sending a sharp shudder through his spine—it was fucking addictive.

He had been starving, and now that he had this, now that he had you, he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to stop.

Your lips moved in sync, perfectly, like you had been waiting just as long for this—like you had wanted him all this time, too.

And when you moaned softly against him, he damn near lost his mind.

His hand slid up your back, pressing against the curve of your spine, holding you impossibly close, swallowing the sound like it was his—because it was.

You were his.

And the realization hit him harder than any punch he had ever taken.

By the time he pulled back, panting, his forehead pressing against yours, he could feel your breath against his lips—shaky, unsteady, just as wrecked as he was.

You looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes dazed, and fuck, he had never seen anything more perfect.

He smirked, but it was different this time—softer, but no less intense.

“Tch. Told you,” he muttered, his voice rough from the weight of everything he had just let go.

You exhaled, blinking up at him, breathless but grinning, and shit, that smile—that goddamn smile—made something inside him snap all over again.

“Okay. Yeah. That was definitely a confession.”

He huffed a laugh, his chest still heaving. “Damn right it was.”

And when you reached up, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw, tilting his face back down to yours, he knew—he fucking knew.

There was no going back from this.

The world could go to hell, the entire damn boxing circuit could collapse, and he wouldn’t care.

In that moment, with the stars shining overhead and the world spinning just for them, Bakugo felt something shift inside. No longer just a fighter or a hot-headed boxer—he was yours.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

Mine, he thought, and he knew he was ready to face whatever came next—together.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of wanting.

© sakuraszn! xoxo

art creds: gsony24

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.

Could you do a Saiki x touch-starved reader

(Also I love your writes!❤️)

SAIKI K x touch-starved! reader hcs

☆ saiki is very apprehensive to touch you

☆ mostly because he's not naturally very physically affectionate

☆ and also because if he gets too flustered he might accidentally level a whole country , ya never know

☆ but if he can read your thoughts so when he finds out that you're eager for hugs and cuddles n all that sweet stuff

☆ he learns to deal with it

☆ and finds ways to touch you that work for both of you

☆ he likes to sit next to you , shoulder to shoulder, just on the couch while y'all are watching something or on the floor while playing video games

☆ it sounds awkward and that's because it kinda is but he considers it to be peak intimacy

☆ and massages !!

☆ he doesn't mind giving / receiving massages at all , especially from you , in fact he really enjoys it

☆ that is the most at peace you will ever see him

☆ though iirc it's canon that trying to rub his back feels like chipping away at stone, but you make it work somehow.. perhaps a chisel ??

☆ he also pats your head, another thing that you might find awkward but comes naturally to him in terms of affection

☆ he's very hesitant to cuddle because he's afraid his super strength might activate and he might crush you

☆ if you're tried and you ask him to carry you to your bed , assuming he'd pick you up bridal style and you'd have a cute moment

☆ you couldn't be more wrong because he'll pick you up with one hand carry you to your bed like a platter of shrimp

☆ he is even very nervous about holding hands because again, super strength

☆ and it makes him feel the tiniest bit bad because like.. he is depriving you of normal boyfriend/couple experiences bc he's a psychic

☆ bc if he was just a normal boy, he'd find a way to overcome his adversity to touch and physical affection for you because he knows you like it and it's the least he can do

☆ but it's obviously a bit harder when you're a psychic

☆ sometimes he practises by hugging pillows but that usually just results in torn pillowcases and feathers/cotton like.. everywhere

☆ and plus the stakes are a lot higher when it comes to you so he's more likely to get anxious and mess something up

☆ but he makes up for it by being sweet in ways you might not expect

☆ like he tends to feed you desserts a lot, and he doesn't even realise how intimate it can be, he just thinks of it as normal to want to share some of his favourite food with a person he loves

☆ and if you get a bit of icing on your lips, he'll wipe it with a napkin for you

☆ he also doesn't mind it when you touch him

☆ since less can go wrong that way

☆ like you could legitimately start using him and human jungle gym and he couldn't care less

☆ in fact, he secretly enjoys it

☆ sometimes you think you can catch him out and surprise him with a hug attack but of course that hardly ever works because... he's psychic

☆ so you'll just pounce on him and instead of falling over like most ppl would, he stays upright and you are left hugging and clinging onto him like he's a tree

☆ also he'll never admit it but he loves lil kiss on the cheek !!

☆ makes him feel very much loved and afterwards and so enamoured and he thinks he does a good job at hiding it but you can always tell bc his expression goes from 😐 to 🙂

☆ a very subtle difference but you as his s/o notice it immediately

—How the MHA men would react to you wiping their kiss as a a prank!

დ”*•.Summary:

Reaction of male My hero academia character of you wiped their kiss after they had kissed your lips

◌⑅⃝♡⋆Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki ; Denki Kaminari ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Sero Hanta ; Shoto Todoroki

✩•̩̩͙*˚Tags: Fluff, funny, prank, loving, married life, aged up, kissing

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰Wordcount: 1.3k

❧◦°˚A/N:

I hope I included the very important sexy men ‌​and maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m not very famous right now but I think I will but also please don’t forget this is one of my first ‘story’? And English isn’t my first language! Ily guys!

Pt. 2. Masterlist

ᰔ ᩚ| Bakugou Katsuki (After he comes home from work)

The front door slammed, signaling Katsuki’s return from work. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he dropped his bag and ran a hand through his messy hair. His usual scowl was deeper than usual—clearly, it had been one of those days. You greeted him with a soft smile, moving closer to help him shed his jacket.

“Tch, don’t bother,” he grumbled, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Well, hello to you too,” you teased, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He froze for a second, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he leaned into the kiss. It was sweet, rare, and enough to make his bad day feel distant. But the moment he pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

“Ugh,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear. “Tastes like explosions.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and his brow twitched. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know,” you said with a casual shrug. “It’s like… smoky. A little bitter, maybe.”

His mouth opened as if to yell, but then he stopped, his expression shifting from irritation to disbelief. “Are you messing with me right now?”

You tried to keep a straight face, but the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away. “Maybe.”

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so sensitive!” you teased, poking his chest. “You’re not mad, are you?”

He scoffed, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Mad? Tch. Please. I don’t care.”

But as he turned away, you caught him muttering, “Next time, I’m making you taste like explosions.”

ঞ| Denki Kaminari (After he gives you a gift)

Denki burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear as he held a small, brightly wrapped box. “Guess what I got you!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Hmm, is it a puppy?”

“Better,” he said with a wink, handing you the box. Inside was a handmade bracelet, colorful and slightly mismatched, with beads spelling out your name and his. It was endearing and so Denki.

“Aw, Denki! It’s adorable,” you said, slipping it onto your wrist. “Thank you!”

Unable to contain your excitement, you leaned in and kissed him. He melted instantly, his cheeks glowing pink. But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated motion.

His face fell immediately. “Wait… what was that?”

“Just… something tasted off,” you said, feigning confusion.

His eyes widened in horror. “Off?! Like, bad? Oh no, am I a bad kisser?!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as he started pacing, mumbling to himself. “Maybe I need to brush my teeth more. Or chew mint gum before—”

“Kaminari, relax,” you interrupted, unable to hold it in anymore. “I’m joking.”

He froze mid-step, blinking at you. “Joking? You mean… I don’t taste bad?”

“Of course not! You’re fine, idiot.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Before you could react, he tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you wipe these off too!”

ஐ| Kirishima Eijirou (While working out together)

The gym echoed with the sound of weights clinking and Kirishima’s encouraging voice. “C’mon, just one more set! You’ve got this!”

You groaned, your arms trembling as you completed the last rep. “Done!” you announced, dropping the weights and collapsing onto the bench.

Kirishima laughed, offering you a water bottle. “Good work, babe. You’re getting stronger every day.”

“Thanks, coach,” you teased, taking a long sip. He leaned in, his red hair falling slightly over his eyes, and kissed you. It was quick and sweet, but as soon as he pulled away, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

His smile faltered. “Uh… what’s wrong?”

“Just… sweaty,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

His face turned red, and not from exertion. “Wait, I’m sweaty?!”

“Yeah, kinda gross,” you added, biting back a laugh.

For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt, his hand subconsciously touching his lips. “I—I didn’t think I was that bad…”

Unable to take it any longer, you burst out laughing. “Eijirou, I’m kidding! You’re fine.”

Realization dawned on his face, and he broke into a wide grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

Before you could escape, he grabbed you, pulling you into a bear hug. “If I’m sweaty, you’re gonna be too!”

“No, Eijirou, stop!” you laughed, squirming in his arms. But he just held you tighter, his laughter joining yours.

❦| Sero Hanta (While watching a movie)

You and Sero were sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by snacks and watching a cheesy rom-com he insisted on. His arm was casually draped over your shoulders, and every so often, he’d glance at you to check if you were enjoying the film. As the leads leaned in for a dramatic kiss on screen, Sero smirked and turned to you.

“Bet you didn’t know I can do it better,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and unhurried, his grin lingering even as he pulled back.

You wiped your mouth dramatically with the back of your hand, scrunching your face. “Ugh.”

Sero blinked, confused. “Uh… what was that?”

“Just… felt sticky. Like tape residue or something,” you said, fighting the urge to laugh.

His jaw dropped, and he let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no you didn’t. Are you saying I kiss like tape?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He stared at you for a moment before his lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Okay, you’re asking for it now.”

Before you could react, he launched himself at you, pinning you down on the couch and peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you can wipe all these off, huh?”

“Stop! Hanta!” you laughed, squirming beneath him, but he only laughed harder.

Shoto Todoroki (During a quiet moment in the garden)

The garden was peaceful, the air filled with the soft scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun. Shoto sat beside you on the bench, his mismatched eyes fixed on the petals of a nearby bloom. You loved moments like this, where his normally stoic demeanor softened into something tender.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. He returned it, his lips cool against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed still.

But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated frown.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Mm, kind of tastes… icy,” you said, smirking. “Like kissing a popsicle.”

He blinked, his face expressionless, but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips. “You knew I was cold, and you kissed me anyway. Complaining now seems counterproductive.”

You burst out laughing, and his smirk became more evident. “You’re such a troll,” you teased.

“I’m simply stating the facts,” he replied, but there was a rare glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Next time, I’ll use the hot side.”

Sukuna's the type of husband where of course when you describe him as someone that still blushes when he gives you flowers, your coworkers are gonna imagine someone soft. Small.

Of course when you beam at those tiny doodles along your fingers that he loves to draw, they're gonna picture you holding hands with someone that has an equally blinding smile - and the same doodles to match.

Of course when show off that custom-cut wedding ring he so meticulously designed, they're so happy for you and your wholesome husband.

Of course when they catch sight of that towering, tatted-up man blocking the doorway to your workplace, looking so menacing, their first thought is to hide. Every single employee in that room - except for you, who only runs up to trap him in a big hug. Head tilting up with a quiet, "You're late, Kuna."

And of course their jaws drop when they catch sight of the bouquet in his hand, held by fingers with tattoos matching your doodles - and a big, flashy wedding ring to boot. Of course this was the husband.

Iguro isn't used to Kaburamaru disappearing from his typical place upon his shoulders. And he's definitely not used to the snake being gone for long periods of time. Maybe that's why he's freaking out a bit more than usual trying to find the damn thing. He'd been training within the walls of the Butterfly Mansion when he realized that familiar weight was missing. And now he has to forgo honing his sword skills in order to stomp around the grounds, asking everyone he comes across, and keeping his eyes peeled for any kind of movement.

He doesn't have time for this but he loves that snake with all his heart so there's no way he'd be able to focus knowing he's missing.

Little does Iguro know, Kaburamaru left in search of something in particular. Or someone. The snake slithers along the ground quickly until he's on your heels and nearly trips you by wrapping himself around your ankles. It had scared you at first, making you yelp and leap away.

"Hey little guy," you steady your racing heart and kneel down with your arm out for him, "what are you doing? Where's your owner?"

Kaburamaru moves forward and coils himself around your wrist, flicking his tongue at you with what almost looks like a smile. He makes his way up your arm and drapes himself across your shoulders the same way he usually does with Iguro. You feel warmth bloom in your chest at the show of affection.

It's odd, ever since you met the snake hashira his pet seemed to take a liking to you. One that his master clearly doesn't share. Iguro always gave you silence and cold glares that made you feel like even though you've only known him a short time you'd personally slighted him. When he did speak to you it was always short and to the point. Which constantly leaves you even more confused as to why he let's his snake snuggle up on you.

You let your knuckle brush along the smooth scales and Kaburamaru's tongue pokes out to brush over your cheek.

Had he gotten lost? It wasn't common for him to go off on his own from what you'd heard from the other hashira. He's always glued onto Iguro. And according to Shinobu, he isn't friendly with anyone other than his owner. But he's different around you. He always sticks his head out toward you for scritches when you're nearby and he goes out of his way to rub against you when he can. You aren't sure why but you're happy to see that he likes you somewhat.

"Come on let's go find Mr. Iguro," you say, poking your finger on his snoot lovingly.

Finding Iguro proves to be a challenge for you. Out of all the hashira he's the best at keeping himself scarce especially if he doesn't want to be found. You start by checking all the obvious places, like the trees surrounding the mansion, even climbing a few of them yourself just in case he's higher up than usual. No dice. Then you check the training grounds because you know he likes to work on his technique when he has nothing else to do. Again, no luck.

Finally you suck it up and start to ask around.

Which for some reason is a lot more stressful than it should be. Every servant or kakushi you ask gives you a sideways glance with a smirk and comments about Kaburamaru. You try to explain but they don't really listen, clearly coming to their own conclusions regardless.

Prancing up the steps towards an open door to the mansion you spot three young girls going on about their day. You wave them over and figure they're worth asking too. They always seem to know the most random information so maybe you'll get lucky. They all blink up at you in sync, shouting out a cheerful hello, and stop what they're doing to listen.

Iguro doesn't really know how long he's been searching by the time he rounds the corner toward the front of the mansion. He sighs as he sees no one there. Not even a servant. He's starting to get anxious about Kaburamaru. He can't remember the last time he's been separated from him for so-

"Hello Mx. (Y/n)!"

The sudden sharp sound of three high pitched voices catches his attention with a grimace. He shuffles across the open space and peers up at the doorway. He can't see the girls, he knows it's clearly Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi, but he can see the back of your form. You're hunched over with one hand planted on your bent knees to reach closer to their height and your other hand up brushing over-

It's Kaburamaru! He's curled around your shoulders and neck, resting limply with his head nuzzling into your cheek, his tongue flicked out with a happy snake smile.

You've had him this whole time?! Iguro feels his eyebrows pinch together as he moves to leap the porch but he pauses as you scratch the underside of Kaburamaru's exposed belly. He's thinking now, about how much that snake seems to like you. About how every since you started coming around Kaburamaru seems to seek your warmth. Iguro watches you coddle his pet and feels fluttering butterflies in his stomach. They bounce around his ribcage as if they're trying desperately to escape.

He always feels this way when he looks at you... hell when he thinks about you.

"Have any of you see Mr. Iguro anywhere?" You ask in a chipper voice.

He hears an array of "no" from the girls.

One of them gasps, Sumi, he thinks, "you got Mr. Iguro's snake!"

You nod with a soft laugh.

"I think Kabu here got lost so I'm trying to return him but I can't find Mr. Iguro anywhere."

Lost? Kaburamaru never gets lost. He knows the Butterfly Mansion inside and out. And did you just call him Kabu?

Iguro's nose twitches behind bandages.

That damn snake hadn't gotten lost. He went looking for you! On purpose! Iguro is starting to regret speaking about you so much in front of him. All of his frustrated rambling must be getting to his head and confusing him. But then again he'd been that way the entire time you'd been around even before Iguro started complaining. So maybe Kaburamaru just likes you.

Just like his owner.

You stand back tall and the snake adjusts his position, "If any of you see him will you tell him I'm looking for him?"

A cacophony of "uh huh" follows and Iguro sees you heave out a big sigh. Soon three little sets of feet pattering on tatami mats echoes out the door and the girls come barreling out to go back to their work. They all freeze when they see Iguro with his palms and one foot resting on the edge of the porch.

Before he can stop them, they all shout, "We found him!"

Iguro quickly puts himself back into a regular stance on the ground and curses in his head. Just a second after, you poke your head around the doorframe and you light up at the sight of him. Oh how he adores such a view. The way your eyes shine and crinkle with the bright smile you give makes him feel sick.

In a good way.

You wander to the edge of the porch in front of him and drop down lightly, "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Iguro doesn't know what to do. Is he supposed to say something? You're standing in front of him looking at him like he's supposed to respond. Is his heart racing? Is he okay? Iguro's fists clench onto the bottom of his haori until he feels it burn in his bone white knuckles.

Speak you idiot, he thinks.

"I don't have time for childish games."

You're confused by his words.

He's blinking at you with those beautiful multicolor eyes without much expression. Is he mad at you? You haven't done anything but your stomach drops at the thought. Out of all the hashira or even all the other slayers he's the one man you don't want to upset. You want him to like you. Maybe even see you as a friend. But he looks so stoic that it worries you.

"What are you talking about?" You ask.

Iguro hates the way your voice wavers just slightly. He didn't mean to upset you. His eyes dart away quickly, settling on a patch of dying flowers by the steps. There's no way he can bring himself to look at you especially with his pet so comfortably snuggled around you like that. It's making his blood rush in his ears.

"First you steal my snake and now you're playing dumb," he says, "I had to stop training for this."

"I didn't steal him? He actually found me. Almost tripped me into a thorn bush too," you explain.

The creature in question hisses but it's clearly not threatening as his following act is to flick that forked tongue over your cheek. You giggle at the tickling sensation and Iguro thinks his heart is about to burst from his chest in an explosion of messy and hidden feelings. He can't stand it. You make him feel ready to fall apart.

But damn he really wants you to laugh like that more.

"I'm sorry you were distracted from training-" you could distract him anytime, "but I wanted to make sure he got back in your arms-" would you like to be in his arms, "I know how much he means to you," do you know how much you mean to him?

Iguro lets his eyes flicker to you for a second but finds it's too much for him to handle. He huffs in frustration, "can I just have him back now, please?"

"Of course," you poke Kaburamaru under his jaw playfully, "go on now you freeloader. Shoulder ride's comin' to an end."

At first, he doesn't move. He just accepts your poking and tightens around you. It's not until Iguro meets his pink eyes and narrows his own that the snake droops sadly and begins to unwrap himself. He does so slowly, as some kind of show of defiance, until he begins to stretch out midair towards Iguro's strangely barren shoulders. It actually looks wrong to see them empty.

"I promise I took good care of him while he was with me," you assure, sensing the anxiety rolling off of him but assuming it was all from the absence of his closest friend and not partially you.

Iguro hummed in response.

Kaburamaru's head drops onto one of Iguro's shoulders while most of his body unfurls but remains on you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you glance over Iguro. You could never seem to get over how pretty he looked especially as the setting sun brushed his features. Soft cheeks that you can just see the top of with the bandage, a sharp nose, a diverted gaze filled with gentle light. Your heart is pounding wildly and you swallow down rising acid.

You shouldn't be thinking about him that way!

Kaburamaru suddenly tightens his hold on you in a vice grip and before you register it he's using the leverage from holding both of you to yank you forward. A yelp tears through your throat. You stumble and so does Iguro, although him much more graceful, and his warmth encompasses you. The snake doesn't let up with his hold, pinning you both into place.

The fabric over Iguro's nose rubs against your own and you're left frozen. Your eyes cross as you try to look at where you're now connected and a burning flush rushes to your face. Iguro's own pink creeps up his neck and the bridge of his nose.

Gorgeous eyes, one green and one gold, stare into yours when you tear your gaze up. A shiver pricks up your spine. He looks so intense.

Iguro's mind is a jumbled mess of chaos and fire with alarms ringing from somewhere he can't quite decipher. You're so close. So warm. So soft. He can almost feel you breathing if you were just a smidge forward then your entire front would be pressed against him. Embarrassment twisted his stomach.

Both of you try to speak and both of you stop when you hear the other start.

For a moment, neither of you try again.

"Y-you're getting kind of red," you comment.

Iguro lets his gaze leave your eyes but finds that with the proximity it's hard to look anywhere and not see you. He settles on your hands where they seem to be afraid to move.

"Making fun of me now?" He mutters.

"No," you just barely seem to stop yourself from yelling, your voice dropping into a whisper in that musical cadence he so adores, "not at all."

He's going to be sick.

Iguro is genuinely going to be sick.

You might as well.

There's no chance at even attempting to fight Kaburamaru's grip. He's got the insane strength of a snake and even if you could you're too worried about hurting him. Iguro seems to think the same.

"You got a new haori," Iguro says.

The realization that he pays attention to you makes you feel like cupid's arrow strikes through your heart. He's right, you did get a new one, your last one was something you’d gotten when you were young. It wasn't a design you liked anymore.

"Uh huh," is your stupid, awestruck response.

Iguro feeds on that like a starved man placed in front of a buffet.

There's a pause as neither of you move and Kaburamaru tightens, pressing you together. He doesn't seem to be planning to let go any time soon and Iguro is too out of it, lost in his own crushing thoughts, to do anything.

Iguro finally let's go of his own and lets his fingers brush your haori affectionately, "it suits you."

You're sure he must be trying to kill you.

"Kaburamaru likes you," Iguro says, "he doesn't like anyone."

Your gaze drifts to the snake that's curling himself in his owner's hair, "I'm glad."

Iguro mutters something so quiet that all you get from it is the rumbling of his chest. You can't see his lips so there's no way to try and figure out what it was and you're sure if you ask he won't repeat it.

"I like him too," you say, trying to convince yourself that you're still talking about the snake.

You're not. And you know that.

Iguro's throat tightens as words attempt to jump ship and spew out of him like a faucet. He could almost lean forward and kiss you if he wanted. He wants to. If he asked what might you say? Would that precious flush get darker? Just before he loses his already thready control, a booming voice cuts into the courtyard. You two turn your head's to look.

"Oh my! Are you two finally going to kiss?"

It's Rengoku, standing on the corner of the far side of the porch in all his glory, his hands propped onto his hips and a bright smile on his face. The embarrassment you feel is almost enough to make you faint as he seems way too excited about catching you in a compromising position. You wonder how it looks from an outside view. Iguro and you are pressed chest to chest, hips to hips, and his hands are grabbing at your haori.

It must look inappropriate.

"Wonderful!" Rengoku shouts in excitement, "I shall let the others know. Join us for supper when you are ready my friends!"

Let the others know? The other... hashira? You and Iguro come to that conclusion at the exact same moment and share a braincell. Both of you yell out to stop Rengoku as he turns on his heel to head towards the dining room. Kaburamaru doesn't get the hint and remains in place causing both of your voices to clash together in panicked yelps as your feet tangle together and you tumble to the ground.

I fuck with the Toji fics but I’ll forever be thrown off when I see him refer to the reader as “ma” or “mama”

it don’t even soundddd right 😭😭 baby this is a Japanese man 😫

edit: AND WHILE WE AT IT BITCH WTF U MEAN “yer” and “fer me” ⁉️⁉️😭

got inspired by the trailer

<3 masterlist sequel <3

pro gamer bf kinich who can’t even remember how he got recruited. his streams have the most basic layout. just a random box of his deadpan face at the side of the screen. not even saying shit 80% of the time and the only noises you’d hear from his live are the angry sounding clicking noise.

sightings of you at the background happen so often, fans make compilations and even post screenshots on twitter of you cuddling with a purring ajaw at your shared bed.

kinich, with his powerful resting bitch face, tolerates the loud cheers whenever he enters tourneys with his team. the only smiling face beside him is your supportive presence, along with mualani who excitedly invites everyone to a victory dinner.

during a bloodborne endurance stream, your bf who never struggles to keep his cool, was bursting with bubbling frustration which surprised his audience.

you, not knowing any better and assumed he wasn’t live, began consoling his hunched form while petting his hair. unaware to the speedy way his chat is spamming at the unexpected way kinich nuzzles into your stomach. some would even say he whined.

the team loves dragging his ass for that, they never fail to mention how soft he is whenever it comes to you.

during a backstage interview after another seasonal victory, he almost jumps on sethos who had the courage to tease and expose him to the interviewer. mualani starts recording the scene so that she could send it to you while xiao and ga-ming watch from the side, the youngest occasionally trying to mediate the situation.

you only found out about the whole ordeal through twitter, asking him about it while kinich grumbles into your shoulder.

sigh. monotone and deadpan streamer kinich w a feral fandom who eats up his interactions with his s/o

New obsession with making these...

BONUS: