Bakugou Fluff - Blog Posts

Fainted... 😳😳😳😳(✖﹏✖)

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙬𝙤

Warnings: smut, lust quirk/sex pollen, praise, degradation, oral, overstimulation, edging, marking, f reader x lustful Bakugou.〤 Minors DNI Word count: 6.4k

Read part 1: 𝙇𝙪𝙨𝙩, 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞, 𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩

   All Bakugou knew right now was the only person he wanted to help him with this was you.

   And now, he had you perched all pretty-like in his lap, right on top of his throbbing hard cock. When Bakugou Katsuki saw an opportunity, he always took it. “Kiss me, right fucking now”

   As Bakugou’s eyes continued to glance up and down your body, he was desperately awaiting your first move. He wanted it to be you who kissed him first, that way you could be the one to express your consent, your confirmation that you wanted him too. Even though his naked backside had been completely exposed to the cold air of his bedroom, his body was still chilled by the drips of sweat falling running down his skin.

   He felt like that damn icy-hot bastard, because each part of his skin that met yours was burning so badly, he felt like he would soon melt into you, while the rest of his body was filled with goosebumps. “S-shit Y/n, the fuck are you waiting for god damnit-” His eyebrows creased painfully, his hot breath fanning across your neck as he distracted himself by peppering wet, sloppy kisses on your neck.

   “K-Katsuki, are you really- really sure you even want this right now?” Your whispered voice kept hesitating, and Bakugou found himself freezing at your words. 

   “Are you seriously the one doubting me? Right now?” His gruff tone caught you off guard, and your hands gripped tightly on his shoulders. You could feel his arms shaking as they held you, his cock was throbbing at your thigh, you could tell even through the sheets. It was easier since the material was now sticky and see-through with his cum. 

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T_Tπ_π〒_〒(+_+)(╥_╥)(/ω＼)(╥﹏╥)( TДT)(ㄒoㄒ)(｡-_-｡)(｡•́︿•̀｡)흫_흫(๏_๏)

Reunion- Bakugou Katsuki

A/n: Whoops I started writing again :)

Summary: A year after your breakup, you return to UA for the 10 year reunion.

Warning: Fighting, swears

Your grip on the glass cup strengthens as Bakugou screams. This is the third argument this week and it's about the same thing. You've been having the same fight for the whole week and it isn't getting better. Each time the topic of marriage comes up, he ignores it or gets defensive. At this point, you're convinced he doesn't want to be with you much longer. That thought festers inside your heart, creating a cold exterior.

"Bakugou, just say you don't want to marry me." You grumble, slamming the cup on the counter, it cracks in your palm. "Are you not listening? We're fine the way we are!" He barks, storming up to you. His face is inches away from yours, but you don't move. You don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "I'm the number two hero. I don't have time for all the sappy shit. We don't need to get married!" His lip twitches, pure irritation written on his face. "You don't get to decide what we need. This relationship doesn't consist of just you!" You retort, letting go of the glass and dropping your hand to your side. "Since when have you ever wanted this?" He cups your face, squeezing your jaw. It doesn't hurt, he isn't trying to hurt you. He's trying to get you to look him in the eyes, but you just can't. Not when he's making things very clear. "I've always wanted a wedding! I told you I wanted to get married before we started dating! You've known for years!" You rip his hand off your face, throwing it against his chest. "I never thought you were serious! That whole stupid family shit was never in my plans!" "But they're in mine." The house goes silent. Neither of you know what to say, but you both know the end is near. You both feel the ground beneath you crumbling. "If you want to do all that shit, find someone else." He doesn't expect you to obey him. He assumes you'll drop the topic and return to his side. Instead, you turn away from him and grab your keys. "Maybe I will."

----

You straighten out your dress, unsure if you should even be here. When you got the invitation in your mailbox you were excited. You'd get to see all your old classmates without a villain attack. You'd be able to catch up with everyone. Only issue is, Bakugou might be there as well. Doesn't matter, though. If you don't show up Ashido will just drag you back. You promised to be there for her since you haven't seen her in months. You've been busy working on your ranking, getting up to number 4.

You walk into the training area, now decked in fairy lights and ribbons. They went all out for this, even having huge buffet tables with a chocolate fountain. There's huge speakers with a well known band playing on a small stage. It's almost like prom, but this time you're going alone.

"L/n!" A squeaky voice calls you. You turn to see Ashido jogging towards you. You'll never understand how she can move so fast in heels. "Ashido, good to see you!" She pulls you into a tight hug, she smells like peaces. "Ugh, don't be so formal! We used to be like sisters at UA!" She reminds you. You can't help but return to those days. When things weren't so complicated, when you were still a kid learning how the control your quirk. "How could I forget? We used to sneak out overnight to watch movies." You nudge her playfully. She has a silk, black dress on. It reaches the floor, having an opening to see her legs. She was always the best dressed. "I heard Deku and Kirishima are going to be here soon!" You smile, enjoying the idea of seeing your friends again. Your class is lucky, being the only one with no casualties. "I'm sure Deku will spend the whole night with Uraraka." You laugh. "You think he still likes her?" Ashido questions, a frown present on her face. "I'm sure he does." "What a shame... She's married to Kaibara.." Ashido's voice lowers and you suddenly feel less confident. You completely forgot about Uraraka's wedding. You were so wrapped up in the idea of getting married yourself, you completely blocked out all the weddings you attended. "I still can't believe she married someone other than Deku.. they seemed so.. destined for each other." You hum, your stomach churning. "Well, you never know. Things have changed since we graduated." Ashido's eyes lower, becoming glassy. It hits you very quickly, reminding you of her divorce. Ashido married a top hero who went to a different hero school, only to find out he was using her. You spent nights with her, comforting her until she fell asleep. "Yeah, somehow it still feels like we just graduated." You're about to comfort her, when the entrance opens. You turn to see Kirishima and Deku walking in together. Deku's smile brightens to room, putting you at ease. "Oh thank god the golden boys are here!" Mina pipes up, dragging you towards them. She stops right in front of Kirishima, a big grin on her face. She's missed her close friend. "Ah, you beat us here!" Deku comments, a nervous look on his face. "You're like twenty minutes late!" You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, well we had to pick up this jerk." Kirishima points behind him, causing you to lock eyes with the one man you didn't want to see. Bakugou has a black suit on, making him look way too handsome. You're quick to focus back on the other two boys, continuing a conversation. "We should dance!" Mina squeals. You want to shoot down her idea, beg her to do anything else, but Deku and Kirishima both agree. "Mind if I take L/n?" Deku asks politely. "Sure, I gotta catch up with Ashido anyway!" Kirishima holds out his hand for her to take, her gladly gripping it tight. Deku does the same, holding out his rough hand. You're hesitant, staring at Bakugou for a split second. You have no reason to ask if it's okay with Bakugou, you broke up. He made it clear he didn't want what you did. So, you gently place your hand on top of his, letting him guide you to the dance floor.

You spend a good thirty minutes dancing with Deku, getting in two slow dances. He's actually pretty good at dancing compared to his younger years. "So, you and Bakugou.." He mutters. Your shoulders drop at the topic. "We broke up." "Yeah, I know. He wouldn't stop talking about it for months." You let out a acknowledging hum. "He misses you. Do you miss him?" "Doesn't matter if I do. we both want different things, things that can't be compromised. I want a big wedding, a family. He doesn't. end of story." You sum up the entirety of the issue, seeing how different your worlds are. "He's changed." You're starting to get annoyed at his persistence. "I'm sure he has, but he can't change what he wants in a future within a year." You slowly pull away from Deku, no longer wanting to be touched. "L/n, he loves you. He spent a whole year missing you, wondering where you are. He's waited a year for a wedding invitation with your name on it." Deku's brows furrow, fists clenching. "That's not my problem anymore, Deku! He told me to move on, so I am!" "He wants a family with you! After two months of losing you, he realized how badly he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you! He's taken time to really think about it." "This isn't any of your business, Izuku." You hiss. You want to leave. You want to run away. To pretend like this conversation never happened, so you could continue believing Bakugou didn't want you. Because that thought has spent years in your head, thinking anything else is terrifying. "It is when he's miserable and you won't even take a second to talk to him!" "I don't need to talk to him! So fucking what if he misses me! I highly doubt he'll be happy married to me, to have kids with me! He told me that the entire time." You step away from Deku, your voice raising. "Is that what you really think? You think he's incapable of changing, of wanting something new? Are you that selfish?" That's what causes you to snap. 'selfish'. "HOW AM I SELFISH FOR WANTING SOMETHING HE DOESN'T! HE HAD YEARS TO CHANE, TO WANT A FAMILY! SO, WHY IS IT THAT THE MOMENT I LEAVE HE SUDDENLY WANTS EVERYTHING? HOW THE FUCK AM I SELFISH!?" Deku remains quiet, tightening his jaw. You huff, spinning on your heel and walking out the room. You can't stay there, not after that. You practically ruined the night with your stupid problems. It's also Deku's fault for being so pushy about all of this. You hope he's happy with the match he dropped on the bridge between you two.

"He wasn't lying." Bakugou's voice is gruff, heavy. You refuse to turn and look at him. He has no right to see you. "So what? It's been a year." You sigh. "I needed time to know what I want." You let him continue, too drained to respond. "I want you. I want a family. Hell, I even thought about a huge wedding." You still keep your mouth shut. "I wanted one of those weddings in a garden, with a wooden arch covered in flowers. I wanted all our friends and family to be there, to see how much I love you. I really wanted those stupid cakes that have three tiers." This changes nothing. This cannot fix what he's done. He doesn't want you, he told you to find someone else. There's no way this would work. He's only doing this to make you happy, he doesn't actually want this. "I wanted to have a kid after a year or two, he'd have my hair but your eyes. Probably have one of our quirks, don't matter which one." "Bakugou-" "I know you aren't married. I asked around every few months." You can hear his footsteps get closer, right behind you. "I know what I said that night was cruel, I never meant them. I didn't think I'd be a good father, let alone husband. I was scared you'd leave me after things got complicated. I didn't want to risk losing you, not like that." For the first time in a long while, the thoughts of him not wanting you start to fade away. Slowly, the cloud of doubt clears, leaving you with new sight on it all. "We can't just get married now. I mean, I don't even know if I'm ready anymore.." It's been a year. You're extremely sure that you still love him, you always will. But the idea of marrying him so soon makes you tremble. "I know. I don't plan on proposing right away. But I want you to know, that if we do get back together, I want a future. I want to share that future with you." You shut your eyes, debating between your two options. You could easily leave, find someone who won't take a year to decide what he wants. Or you could restart this whole thing, be with him and have the life you always wanted with him. After battling your mind, you decide on your answer, no matter how much pain it could cause. You want to be with him. You want to spend an eternity with him. You take his hand, restarting everything.

Jaw dropped... These parents are morons! Thank you morons... 🔱🔱🍇🍇🍇🔱🔱🔱

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🍇🔱🔱🔱🔱🍇🍇🍇

🍇🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🍇🔱

🍇🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱

🔱🍇🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱

🔱🔱🍇🍇🍇🔱🔱🔱

monster dilf bkg???? he’s so beeeg and beefy, everyone just thinks he’s a buff lil himbo, but it turns out he’s just a half dragon that’s whipped for life with his lil baby mama nd incubator. His breath is always so warm when he kisses all over your swollen tummy, nice and full with his eggs. and when his babies are born, he’s a nightmare who’s always cooking and whipping up some new fancy treat, who never lets you walk on your sore legs - he’s twice your size for a reason, perfect to carry you AND your brats!

WAAAAAIIIITTT

Being a princess with shitty parents that lock you up in a tower for some reason, guarded by a fire breathing dragon meant to fight any knight that comes to rescue you.

But there’s no need to be rescued anymore because your knight in shining armor is Dragon Bakugou himself.

It simply started off to wanting a little taste of the pretty princess stuck with him, to wanting to use her as an incubator for his children, to the abrupt realization that he is madly in love with you for so long. Treats you like the most fragile jewel from his treasure pile, making you giggle every time he pecks kisses on your big belly, mouth that spat fire now warm and tickles on your skin. Harmless snarls at the babies to not cause you any trouble on the inside or else they’ll deal with his tummy kisses on all of them.

He has to go to the nearby village to get food and supplies for you, in his human disguise, and comes of as a very scary man, but also very aloof and a little bit confused?? Takes these village visits as opportunities to scout for any bastard knights planning to raid his castle. Dragon Bakugou would rather die fighting than let them take his beloved away from him.

Dragon Bakugou also doesn’t let you walk. Your legs are constantly sore and you can’t even hold your own belly’s weight. So he cradles you in one arm and walks with you like that all over the castle, steals quick nibbles on your cheek between cleaning and cooking.

And when the babies are finally born? God, he’s putty. Tail thumping on the ground happily as his half dragon children crawl over his legs and teeth at his fingers, always careful to keep his claws turned away. When they’re slightly bigger, they cling to his tail and squeal in laugher then he drags them around or lifts the tail up to teasingly glare at the little monsters.

Flying lessons with daddy. Your heart is in your throat every time when they leap off castle’s peak.

And even though you’re not pregnant anymore, Dragon Bakugou carries you around on his strong arm- carries all the family down the corridor to the dining hall where he placed the most delicious feast capable of feeding all of their big bellies. Keeps you seated on his lap with a kiss to your cheek while the kids devour all the food.

God, your parents nearly have a stroke when they invite you back home, thinking you had been rescued and wedded, only to see your smug face, your sneering dragon husband and all 9 of your dragon children wrecking havoc in their palace.

Jealousy over stuff toy!!! ✨👑🎩👑🎩👑🎩✨

🎶😁😁😁😁😁😁🎶

👏👗👕👗👕👗👕👏

🎤🎶🎺🎶🎵📢🎶🎸

Party Time!

Could you write a Bakugou x fem! Reader where the reader is in her dorm cuddling with her huge stuffed teddy bear and Bakugou comes in like “wtf” and throws the bear across the room and cuddles with the reader! If this sounds stupid you don’t have to write it!!

this is definitely not stupid!! i loved your idea, it’s so cute thanks for this :>

he looks so stupid in this i love him HAHAHA

today is not your day. you feel slumped, like whenever you tried to stand up, you’d just fall. your head is throbbing and you feel dead inside, but you’re not entirely sure why

well, you have been busy this whole week, barely having any time to rest. now is your only rest time, so you snuggle up to the huge teddy bear your family gave you to keep you company in the dorms

Bakugou hasn’t seen you out all day, and he’s getting a little bit worried

you usually head down to eat meals with him, but now it’s almost evening and you’re still not out of your room

finally, he decides to slam your door open to check up on you

just to see you cuddling with a huge ass teddy bear

your arms and legs are wrapped around it, your head buried in its fluffiness with your eyes closed

Bakugou huffs because he noticed you looked tired, so why didn’t you say anything to him?

why were you seeking comfort from a stupid bear than your boyfriend?

so he grabs the bear from you and throws it across the room

“hey!” you wake up with a start. “my bear!”

before you can continue scolding him, he slides next to you, forcing your head in his chest as he grabs your arms and legs to put them around him

“you didn’t come out of your room today,” he points out gruffly as you relax in his hold, your grip around him tightening

“i wasn’t feeling well,” you sigh, so Bakugou starts running his hand through your hair

despite his sweet actions, he scoffs. “so you decide to hug your stupid bear, instead of me?”

“i didn’t want to bother you—”

“why do you even have that shitty stuffed good-for-nothing anyway?”

“my family didn’t want me to be lonely—”

“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO BE LONELY WHEN I’M ALWAYS GONNA BE WITH YOU?”

finally, you slam your lips against him to shut him up. he calms down from your sweet kiss, so you pull away to rest your head on him again

“i’ll call you next time,” you hum, loving the sound of his heart beat. “just calm down and rest with me, please?”

he sighs and finally shuts up, letting you cuddle him like a teddy bear

until...

“i am better than that fucking bear though, right?”

you can’t help but burst out laughing, instantly feeling better

“yes, Katsuki,” you kiss him again, and he’s glad that he managed to make you smile. “i love cuddling you more than any other teddy bear.”

I love him so much, literally who gave him the right the be just the best boi

MY MANNNNN

Bakugo Katsuki is unreasonable when it comes to you. He is constantly worried something is going to happen to you. He knows you're strong, he knows you're able to care for you. Its not that he believes that you are useless without him.

Its how clumsy you are.

The amount of times you have hurt yourself on basic items. You're constantly getting paper cuts and its to the point that he always has bandaids on him because he knows you're somehow going to get a cut or fall and skin your knee.

He has such a soft spot for you. But god does he get annoyed with how accident prone you seem to be.

But with that he's so protective over you. Not in a weird way but in a "i feel a need to make sure you're okay" kind of way.

You're the only person he will show any physical affection in public. He always has a hand on you. An arm around your waist, hand interlocked with yours, arms wrapped around you in a protective hug. Katsuki will try his best to make sure that you are safe even you some how manage to hurt yourself anyways.

As clumsy as you are. You are katuski bakugos sweet baby.

imagine katsuki’s reaction to bunny fem!reader being clingy after sex.

he’s taking you from behind, his tip hitting that perfect spot inside of you. at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum.

as you feel that familiar tightening in your tummy, your moans become strangled.

katsuki groans with each rough thrust, “fuck—c’mon on, baby. c’mon on. cum f’me.” your moans reach a crescendo, building until you’re whimpering and shaking. your short nails dig hard enough into your palms to leave little marks.

you fall forward, face down on the bed, with your knees bent toward you. you're mewling from the pleasure your boyfriend’s cock ignites in you.

he rocks forward with you, your hips glued together and fluffy tail fluttering against his abs as he releases into you. he can’t help it (and he's stopped trying to), especially not when you’re clenching around him so tight.

the twitching of his cock and loud moans only make you tremble and whimper harder. your orgasm lasts longer than usual, little cries still escaping your lips as katsuki slowly draws out of your sopping cunt.

he rasps, “i’ll be back in a minute, baby.”

your eyes widen as you half push yourself up and twist back to look at him. you exclaim, “no!”

he’s got one leg off the bed when he stops, staring at you slack-jawed.

he quickly regains his composure, grinning, “i’ll just be a minute, doll—“

“no!” you grab his forearm and whimper as you pull yourself up onto your knees, edging closer to him.

seeing how shaky you are, katsuki climbs back onto the bed and wraps his arms around you. he tugs you into his chest, leaning to the side for a moment so he can wipe his sweaty palms on a pillow before stroking your long, floppy ears and hair.

he grumbles, “what’s gotten into you, brat?” you wince at the name and his tone, whimpering softly as you squeeze him tighter.

you mumble into his sweat-soaked neck, “please. need you.” you pull back and gaze at him, your eyes glassy.

katsuki’s heart misses a beat. all of a sudden, it’s like he can’t breathe. seeing his little girl all emotional and so damn cute has him in a chokehold.

he nods and lets you pull him down onto the bed with you. he holds you close and manoeuvres you so you’re lying together with your legs entangled.

your arms around around his neck as you press your tits against his (d^2 cup btw).

you sniffle, “need you ch-chest to chest, s-suki.” any cocky remark he usually would have cooked up is long gone as he holds you.

your body shudders as you sob into your boyfriend. he yanks the blankets up to your chin before running his fingers up and down your spine beneath them.

his eyes go wide as he feels the cocktail of his and your cum dripping onto his meaty thigh; the exact thing he was trying to prevent.

he grumbles, “yer makin’ a mess, bunny.” (shoot me the nickname is appropriate for the context it’s cute in my opinion if you don’t like it then scroll). his comment only makes you cry harder, a choked up “sorry” escaping your lips.

he draws you impossibly closer, earning a yelp from you as his wet thigh brushes your swollen clit.

“suki!” he kisses your soft ear, mumbling an apology into it.

after a few minutes, you calm down. sniffling, you pull back to gaze at him. your pretty eyes meet his as you stutter thickly, “p-please don’t le-leave me.”

katsuki’s brows knit together as he opens his mouth to tell you off for thinking he would ever consider it. but hearing your little whine from his scowl and seeing your cute little red nose twitching, he softens.

he sighs as one of his large hands pushes your face back into the crook of his neck. he mumbles into your hair, “'m not goin’ anywhere, alright?”

you whimper, “suki—"

he grumbles, “i mean it.” exhaling deeply, he says more gently this time, “i mean it, baby. ‘m not gonna leave you. nothing can ever take me away you, yea? ‘m all yours.”

you nod, your small palms pressed against his nape. you lean back and draw him into a delicate kiss.

katsuki whispers sweet praises and reassurances into your ear, making you feel safe and secure. after cuddling for a while, he coaxes you into letting him clean you up before you two fall asleep together.

a/n: i'm pretty sure this has been done before, but i hope you still like it!

birthday gift

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — no quirk college!au, bit of angst, mostly fluff, 2.9k words, this is for you sanrio girlies!

Bakugou, like every other guy outside of the Sanrio-sphere, thought you were a little bit crazy when he saw your My Melody keychains dangling from your denim shoulder bag. When you two were on your first date and you got super excited over the café you went to doing Hello Kitty and Friends latte art, he grumbled and made a mental note that you were definitely crazy. And after you two started dating, and he saw your Sanrio plushie collection and themed slippers, he knew for sure you were insane. But even then, he couldn’t stop hanging around you.

There was something so attractive about you, magnetic. Maybe it was how you giggled so cutely and femininely whenever you teased him, or how beautiful and big your eyes looked when they stared up, into his own sharper and fierce ones. He was drunk on the way your hips swayed ever-so-slightly when you walked, and the way you sucked your lower lip between your teeth when concentrating hard. Even in the exam hall, he found himself stealing glances at you. You who was fiercely scribbling away on your own exam paper, alternating between biting and licking your lip. And of course, who, other than Bakugou, would kiss you better after such a taxing exam?

The point being, he couldn’t get enough of his crazy lil’ girl. You had been on his mind impossibly more since your birthday was coming up this Friday. He was contemplating whether to take you back to the Hello Kitty latte art café or to get you something Kuromi themed. He was overthinking like crazy, blond brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a scowl as he death-stared his notebook during his 11am lecture. What gift would be good enough for his perfect princess?

Bakugou’s frustration radiated off him, rippling in waves that had Denki, who was sitting next to him, leaning away and over to Kirishima. He whispered, “Did I do something or?” The red-haired boy shook his head, stealing a long glance at his clearly annoyed best friend. Denki sat on the edge of his seat, leg bobbing up and down as he and Kirishima exchanged glances. “Stop that.” Bakugou turned to look at the both of them, the command ripping out of his throat like a snarl. Denki squeaked a little in response, his leg stilling. He leaned even closer to Kirishima, whispering in his ear, “It was me! What did I do that was so wrong? Why does Bak—”

“Shut up!” Bakugou almost yelled. Students around the trio were beginning to look over at them, curious as to what had set the ash-blond off this time. Denki seemed to be the culprit in their eyes. Kirishima pushed Denki by the shoulder away, now leaning over him to tell Bakugou to keep his cool because he was making a scene. Bakugou scoffed in response, turning away from the pair and folding his arms across his chest.

For the remainder of the lecture, Bakugou couldn’t focus — not that he was focusing in the first place. Once it hit 1pm, he got up and stalked out of the hall, not waiting for his companions. He fell into into his usual walk, shoulders hunched, books under his arm, hands in his pocket. From behind him, he could hear his friends calling after him, but he ignored them as he usually does and made his way to the soccer field.

Allow me to clarify, Bakugou doesn’t play soccer, and while his friends do, their practice is usually later in the afternoons. Furthermore, you don’t play soccer. But your friend, — and unfortunately, Bakugou’s ol’ high school gossiper — Mina, is the captain of the cheerleading team who are practising on the soccer field for next week’s game. With B1 and B2 running after him, Bakugou comes to the field, spotting the pink-haired girl with her back to him, standing in front of her team. She doesn’t notice him until he draws closer, oblivious to his presence as she gives feedback on the performance run they just finished. “Ochaco, I need a little more enthusiasm from you—”

“OI! PINKY!” Mina turns around, seeing Bakugou stomping his way over to her and Kirishima and Denki puffing hard a few metres behind him. She turns back around, telling her team to take five. The team dissipates quickly, like a school of fish scurrying away from a shark. She sighs, turning around and placing her hands on her hips. “What do you want, grumpy?” She narrows her eyes at the boy as he stops a few feet away. He rolls his eyes, already regretting his decision to ask for her help in picking out a birthday gift for you.

Bakugou scoffs before starting quietly, “I need your help—” “You WHAT?” Mina has her hand behind her ear, half cupping it as if such a gesture would channel the sound of what she thinks the most stubborn grump said into her ear. Bakugou grits his teeth in response, Kirishima and Denki coming right up behind him. “I need your help, alright?! I don’t know what to get [y/n] for her birthday.” It was as if just saying those words released some of the tension in the ash-blond’s shoulders (because it did). A look of relief washed over Denki, “Oh, so that’s what you’re so cranky about. I thought it was because of m—”

“Shut up, nerd.” Bakugou spared the babbling boy a glare that cut through the air like a knife. He turned back to ‘pinky’ in front of him, hands becoming clammy in his pockets. “So?” Mina looked at him, holding back her laughter until she couldn’t any longer. Bakugou scowled as she laughed at him, clearly amused by the entire situation. “How-how do you-how do you not know what to get your girlfriend for her birthday?” By the time she was finished cackling, she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, saying “That was the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“You done now?” Bakugou’s hands had left his pockets so that his arms could cross over his chest once more. His foot tapped against the fresh-cut grass. “Yes, okay okay,” Mina giggled as she regained most of her composure. “Why don’t you just get her something that she told you she wants? Like, didn’t she mention anything that she’s had her eye on?” Bakugou sighed. His voice dripped with sarcasm, “Wow, you’re genius. I hadn’t tried that one.” At this, Mina’s brows furrowed and she pouted, “Well, I’m not the one who can’t think of a gift idea for their girlfriend.”

Bakugou felt that this conversation was taking years off of his life. “Are you gonna help me or not?!” He was leaning forward now, eyes staring holes into the girl in front of him. Kirishima’s hand flew instinctively to his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright bro. Just relax. This isn’t very manly of you.” Bakugou shrugged the red-head’s hand off of him. Mina gave Kirishima a grateful look. Even though the two weren’t dating yet, she was glad to know that he would always have her back. At least, when it came to Bakugou’s temperament.

Mina raised her hands in defence, “Okay okay, I’ll help you. What about getting her something Sanrio-themed? Like a purse or something.” Bakugou sighed again. He was becoming a man of sighs and frustration-wrinkles over this situation. Why was it so hard to just get his girlfriend a gift? He’s gotten you a few before and you had loved them all. Why would this time be any different?

At his quietness, Mina gave Kirishima a look of “Omg is he okay?” To which he shrugged. “Hey, Baku-bro, you right?” Bakugou blinked rapidly, coming back from the depths of his thoughts. He nodded, his voice raspy as he said, “I was gonna but I don’t know, I already got her a Hello Kitty jersey for Christmas.” Mina smiled, remembering how you had texted the group chat that night ecstatic about it. It was only after a month that you had calmed down and started wearing other tops.

“Trust me, she’s gonna love whatever you think of.”

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Today was your birthday and you were so so excited! You can’t remember ever having been this excited about a birthday before. It was going to be your first ever birthday spent with Bakugou as you two met shortly after your one last year.

You had just woken up. Checking your notifications quickly after turning off your alarm, you notice a text message from your beloved wishing you a happy birthday. You instantly smiled, clicking on the notification to open up your message app and respond with your thanks. You put your phone down, getting out of bed to make it and drink some water. You settle into your morning routine, going about your morning as you always do. The only thing different was that you kept humming and doing little dances, goofing around. You lived in a college dorm alone while your boyfriend lived with his friends in an apartment close to campus. You were excited for the date that he had planned for tonight.

After making yourself some blueberry pancakes with cookies and cream ice cream (fire combo pls try omg you won’t regret it) and devouring them, you hear your phone buzz. Placing the plate and cutlery by the sink, you grab your phone from the bench, the screen lighting up with text messages from ‘Baby Suki’. You giggle to yourself, reading and replying to them. He’s being so kind and caring to you this morning… Just kidding, he’s being his usual self, brash and direct with a dash of sweetness sprinkles.

You notice some other birthday text messages from your friends and peers. You take your time responding to them, your body leaning against the dining table.

Later in the morning, Mina and Ochaco stop by, giving you the most beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. It has you in tears, and you all hug as you cry from joy and they tell you not to cry. They stay over at your dorm for a while. You talk about so many things, from the latest episodes of the show you were watching to your assignments.

Around noon, you hear a knock on your door. You told the girls to stay where they were, Mina protesting about how the birthday girl shouldn’t be working on her birthday, but you paid it no mind. You opened the door, Midoriya standing there holding a homemade charcuterie board.

You squealed in excitement, inviting him inside and leading him to the couches. Once he placed the board on the coffee table, you gave him a big hug. Midoriya returned it with warmth and you told him to stay while you all snacked on his delicious girl dinner.

The three of them stayed with you until it 4pm. You had been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t noticed it had gotten so late. You had stood up frantically, telling them about your date with Bakugou tonight. They looked at you with knowing eyes and left peacefully. Well, everyone but Mina who wiggled her eyebrows at you. But, you would interpret that later.

Now, you had to focus on getting ready for your date. You showered, lathered yourself up in oils and moisturiser, and wrapped yourself in a thick bath robe. You then curled your hair, clipping rollers in so they would set. Next, you worked on your makeup.

Tonight, you were going for a glowy, blush-centric look. The result? It was giving!! You then carefully slipped your dress on. It was a cute maxi dress in your favourite colour that highlighted your waist and décolletage. You had bought this one specifically for your date and you were very excited to wear it out. You finished off by taking out your rollers out and fluffing your hair, spritzing on your favourite perfume, and adding your favourite pieces of jewellery. The clock struck 7pm and your phone buzzed. You ran over to it, reading Bakugou’s message that he was at your door. Weirdo, he usually knocks and then barges in.

You smiled wide, maybe he was just nervous. You strapped on your heels, grabbed your favourite purse with your My Mel keychains attached, and then you were walking to the door. You opened it, Bakugou in a pair of jeans, button-up shirt, and matching denim jacket greeting you. You giggled, immediately crashing into his arms to give him a big bear hug. He chuckled at your affection, one hand around your upper back and the other patting your head. You were in heaven just by being in his arms, inhaling his smoky-sweet scent, and this was just the beginning of the night.

“I missed you.” “I can tell,” he looked down at you, grinning wide. “Wanna get going?” You nodded in response. He had his arm wrapped around you as he whisked you away. Where he was taking you though was a surprise.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

He parked the car on one of the busy main roads, coming over to the passenger side to offer you a hand out of the car. You smiled, enjoying his act of gentlemanliness. He took your hand and let you down the strip, keeping you closest to the shops and him to the road. You walked for a couple of minutes before Bakugou stopped. You stopped too, arm pulled back by his. You looked up at him and watched as he nodded to something behind you. You turned around, hand still holding his. You saw where he had brought you and squealed in delight. You were so happy and excited that you started jumping up and down and gave him a big cuddle. He laughed, teasingly asking you, “Oh, you like?” You nodded and grabbed his hand tight, practically dragging Bakugou into the newly opened Sanrio Miniso.

You two worked your way around the store, Bakugou holding a basket which you filled with careful deliberation. Cinnamoroll perfume, Kuromi flask and matching bento set, blind box, new My Melody slippers. You were ecstatic as Bakugou paid for your birthday haul and carried the bag. Even so, as you two left the store and walked further down the crowded street. You were in a frenzied dopamine daze. You couldn’t stop smiling and giggling and thanking your boyfriend for being so thoughtful and paying for your new Sanrio goodies.

The night was still young. He took you for dinner and ice cream afterwards. All the while, holding your hand or the small of your back and teasing you sweetly. The night ended with him dropping you back to your dorm, walking you to your front door of course. You drew him into a passionate kiss, hands grasping his button-up shirt as his jacket was around your shoulders. He smiled into your lips, hands on the back of your neck and waist. You could taste the caramel ice cream he had eaten only half an hour earlier. It’s sweetness made you melt into his arms, knees weakening as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at it.

At last, you two pulled away from each other, foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. You breathed out, “Thank you for the best birthday ever.” He chuckled, moving back so he could cup your face in his large hands. He shook his head at you, still laughing a little. “What?” “Nothing,” he smiled. He let go of you, handing you your miniso bag. “I’ll see you later. Don’t stay up too late.” He stepped back. “If I do it’s your fault,” you joked. You turned around, fishing your dorm key out of your bag. Luckily, you found it quickly and unlocked your door. You pushed it open and half-stepped inside before turning to look back at him. He was standing there with his hands in his jean pockets.

“Let me put this down and I’ll give you back your jac—” “Keep it.” And with that, Bakugou walked away. You watched as he stopped at the elevator down the hall and pushed the button.

You dropped your bags inside your door and started running after him. “Bakugou! Wait!” He turned around, eyebrows raised at your enthusiasm and sudden outburst of exercise. You were huffing by the time you reached him. The elevator dinged. You threw your arms around him, your heart beating erratically against his slightly elevated one. The elevator doors opened and closed as you held him and he held you. “What is it?” You looked up at him. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He scoffed and ruffled your hair. “Weirdo,” he said as he pulled away from you. He pressed the elevator down button again and the doors opened. “Go back to your dorm already.” He eyed you as he stepped into the elevator. You giggled and you saluted him. “Yes sir.” The elevator doors shut, taking your boyfriend away from you for the night. You couldn’t stop smiling and excitedly whispering to yourself as you made your way back to your dorm and took your makeup and dress off. Even once you had put your silk pjs on and brushed your teeth, you were still so excited and happy. That night, it took a while for you to get to sleep, but you had the sweetest dreams.

⋆˚࿔ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ + ᴘᴅᴀ. ✩˚⋆

✧ hellooo!! the unexpected support on my first lil drabble made me want to write another one!<3 This one’s just a little longer though

✧ fluffy fluff, suki loooves youu, gn reader

During the early stages of yours and Katsuki’s relationship, when it came to being publicly affectionate, furthest he would go would be hand holding.

You didn’t mind however. His hands were always comfortingly warm, and despite his explosive, even deadly quirk, would always hold yours firmly, yet ever so gently. Such a simple gesture, though it always brought a feeling of safety.

Besides, Katsuki didn’t seem like the type to go past handholding beyond closed doors to begin with. You knew what you were getting into, and you were completely content with just that. You simply took it as a silently set boundary of his, and you didn’t want to force your boyfriend out of his comfort zone.

Which, you realised overtime, even if you wanted to, you didn’t have to.

It was like he was exploring his own boundaries, pushing his own buttons. The more steps he took out of border, the further his hands wandered.

They went from your own, snaking their way to your shoulders, waist, anywhere on your back. The fleeting touches eventually leading to sweet, careless hugs and kisses. Becoming second nature to him.

Walking down a street? You’re not walking unless you’ve got a hand around his bicep, your head on his shoulder.

In a crowd? His arm is not leaving your waist.

Waiting in line? Your impatient grump of a boyfriend is hugging you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder as he grumbles complaints into it.

You think about it every once in a while. How he went from having the tips of his ears burning at your hand nestling in his, to having his arms shamelessly around you at all times. You don’t know what is it that gave him the push, just happy it’s you he feels comfortable with to such extent.

All the while, Katsuki wishes he could put it into words for you.

Falling for you, then falling in love with you has taught him a lot. The kind of love you showed him has helped him realise things, look at them from a different perspective. It made him yearn for and want everything he never thought he would. Being publicly affectionate a small, nonetheless great example of that.

Katsuki used to think there was no need for not just you and him, but anyone to be all lovey-dovey in public. He used to think it was completely unnecessary, obnoxious even. That is, until the small sense of longing surfaced from the depths of his heart.

Katsuki thinks it grew stronger the deeper he fell. It wasn’t long before he’d decided to act on it, languidly at least.

It was weird, kind of a newfound feeling for him. He quickly pinpointed it to, pretty much, wanting to show your guys’ love off. He wants to show off how good he is to you and how happy you are with him. To the whole world, preferably, because he loves you that much and more.

In Katsuki’s head, he notably matured for this. Something he did next to, and thanks to you. But he guesses that’s just part of being in love.

⋆˚࿔ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ + ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ. ✩˚⋆

✧ hey hii heyyy! first time i have the courage to post a drabble i wrote... plz have mercy

✧ pure fluff, bakugou is a bit ooc, reader is gn!

As expected of the great explosion murder god, he insists on always holding you. The stubborn boy will literally wrestle you until you are both lying down, his arms around you, chin on top of your head.

That being a short sum up of how cuddling usually went with your boyfriend… until the moment he’d shockingly, begrudgingly agreed to being held.

“Fine.” He muttered, almost spat out. “Just this once.”

Safe to say it was not just that once.

Katsuki would rather walk barefoot on glass particles before he’d admit just how much he adores being held by you.

He adores hates! how safe and even small it makes him feel. Lying on your chest as you gently card your fingers trough his hair with one hand, slowly rubbing his back with the other. The soothing rise and fall of your chest, the comforting, steady sound of your heartbeat. Not to mention the occasional soft kisses you plant to the top of his head, sometimes accompanied by whispered sweet nothings.

And although flustered, Katsuki will demand this treatment every night. Wordlessly however.

Unless you initiate holding him, he’s crossing his arms, tossing and turning next to you, purposefully loudly sighing until you’d just get the damn hint and pull him into your arms. (You already know what he wants. He’s just too cute all huffy, stubborn as usual.)

It’s unspokenly become your guys’ little secret - the most important part of your nightly routine. You holding him, him being held by you.

You, who he loves so much, he’d let all his walls break down for.

A fact you’re very blissfully aware of, so you’d happily spend the rest of your nights holding your pretty blonde in your arms.

Best day ever \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Kiss, cuddle, or die

"Damn it, woman! Why won't you give me what I want!?"

Your eye twitches in irritation, glaring at the blonde as you cross your arms and huff.

"Because I don't feel like it!"

Your fiance gaps at you, shock and utterly betrayal written over his face. He's known you for twenty years. Ever since you were five and not once, has he expected those words to come out of your pretty mouth.

Katsuki felt betrayed, as if he never knew you at all! He only wanted a tiny kiss and a bit of cuddle time. Nothing fucking major at all so why were you sitting on the end of the couch!?

You stuck your tongue out at him, to which he gasps in offense while you curl up into the fluffy blankets. Wearing not only his hoodie- but also wearing his skull shirt underneath, his sweats that looked oversized on you, but most importantly! You had the audacity to wear his fluffy All Might themed socks without giving him a kiss.

You snickered at his scrunched up face, wiggling your fluffy sock-covered toes in front of him while cuddling a hero Shouto plushie.

Katsuki's eye twitched in irritation, taking deep breaths through his nose as he looked like he was about to explode. The blonde was hands down, glaring at you; his precious angel baby princess fiance who wouldn't even glance towards him.

Your fiance scowls in annoyance, uncrossing his arms as he tackles you to the couch. You squeal, knees bending to your chest as your feet rest against his abs. Your boyfriend glares at you, thick, muscular arms on either side of your head as he huffs.

"I fucking dare yo-"

You cackle, kicking him off the couch as he lands on the floor with a hard grunt.

Katsuki groans, giving you a nasty glare as he wraps his hand around your ankle. "YOU KISS ME OR YOU DIE!!"

You squeal out a laugh, throwing the blankets at him as you temporarily blind him. The blonde scowls in frustration, trying to get out of your trap as you grab the Shouto plushie and run down the hallway, giggling the entire time as you hear heavy footsteps sprinting towards you.

"COME BACK HERE, WOMAN!"

Snickers escape from you as you dash into your shared bedroom, hiding under the bundle of blankets along with the many pillows and plushies scattered on the mattress.

Giggles are heard in the bedroom, and even if Katsuki pretends to have a scowl on his face, he can't fully ignore the way his heart flutters at the sound and how he tries his hardest to fight the smile from replacing his irritated frown.

The blonde stomps over to the bedroom, carmine eyes snapping towards your figure as he fights to roll his eyes when he sees the outline of your body hiding under the blankets.

He huffs dramatically, jumping onto the bed as he lands on top of you; knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

A yelp escapes your lips, wincing at the weight of your boyfriend lying on top of you. You kick him through the blankets, trying to push him away while shooting your arms and face out as you glare at the smug blonde.

Katsuki snickers at your angry pout, arms and legs locking around you as he nuzzles his face against yours like a cat.

"Thought you could run from me, huh?"

You groan, rolling your eyes as he gives you his signature smirk. Then he presses his lips against yours, smothering you in deep, hard kisses that make your lips part in the process from the force. You squirm, giggling when you feel him grin into the kiss.

Your boyfriend may threaten you for physical affection, but at least he made you feel loved.

It’s so good but it’s sad🥲🥲

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

word count: 17.8k

summary: bakugou is yours, and you're his, but what happens when distance and dreams get in the way of your relationship? dating a pro hero isn't easy, and neither of you will settle for just enough.

tags: 5 times trope (5 times you break each other’s hearts), angst+fluff, lovers to exes to fwb to strangers, pro hero bakugou x fem!reader, time skip towards the end, it's messy and ugly. also trans!bakugou, pussy eating and soft sex (he doesn't have sex, he makes love), demi coded bakugou because i said so

bonus:

playlist

bakugou's past (ao3 link)

ao3 fic link

1.(the beginning of an end)

“You know what this means, right?” 

The guests have left and it’s now only you and him in the shared apartment. Dinner was nice, everyone was happy and celebrating your boyfriend’s achievement. He had been offered a job position as a rookie in a really good hero agency. Abroad. Hours away from you. 

“Can we not do this now? Let's wait until tomorrow, please.” You don’t beg. Maybe he’ll take in your tensed shoulders and do you the favor, carrying out the fake act for a while longer. Just one more night with him in your arms. 

Bakugou’s eyes burn into the side of your neck as you do the dishes. He’s next to you drying and putting them away. “We’ll have to talk about it eventually.” Your smile is gone. It doesn’t really matter, it was as real as purple haired dogs- you can’t fool me. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Your hands burn at his accusation. Or maybe it’s just the tap water, too hot for your skin but the perfect temperature to get rid of the grease on your plates. 

“Hm.” 

Ashy blonde hair makes its way onto your right shoulder. Bakugou leans on you, letting part of his body weight fall and taking you down with him. You drop the ceramic and use both your arms to steady him, grabbing his looming frame and holding him with the help of your hip. Like a big ass baby. 

“Katsuki stop!” He doesn’t budge. “Katsuki! You’re gonna make us fall!” There’s the beginning of a laugh bubbling up in your throat, so you push it down. “Seriously, stop.”

The giant man stands up, properly this time, and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him, kisses your temple and makes his way down to your lips, catching them unguarded and eagerly waiting. You melt into him, what else could you do? If it’s your last night with him, if it’s his last night being yours. 

Somehow you manage to escape his embrace with the excuse of a much-needed shower. He offers to join but you decline. You have to get used to showering alone. 

Bedtime is long past, but he’s still awake. Fighting for his life, but awake. The book between his hands threatens to fall on his chest. You observe him from the bathroom door as he blinks comically to keep the sleepiness away. 

“Fucking finally.” He mutters as you shuffle in next to him, placing the book on his nightstand and taking off his reading glasses.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you always go to bed early.” Please, don’t do it now. 

Bakugou studies your face for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans forward to steal a kiss. Let's do it tomorrow then. 

That’s pretty much how every day looks like to you for the rest of the week. He tries to bring up the elephant in the room and you run away like a scaredy cat, he doesn’t insist so you never actually talk. 

Sunday morning comes around and his bags are ready, sitting by the door. You spent your Saturday evening out with friends, not baring to watch him put his clothes away. He has already packed up his books and family pictures, putting all his stuff in boxes except for the most important one. Though he’s leaving you the furniture you bought together when you first moved in- the couch, the mattress, the bookshelf (now half empty), the place feels empty. 

“Oi.” His voice is unusually soft. Not because he isn’t (soft), but because that’s not how he does it really. Bakugou may appear as loud and opinionated to anyone who meets him, but the man you know has a careful touch and a sweet tone- eager to please and ready to love. But this, the sound you’re hearing right now, it’s colored with pity. “I- Do you think we should talk?” 

He’s standing by the door, as if ready to bolt out the second you start crying. His flight isn’t until midnight, but he’s already opening his dumb mouth. The fact that this time he’s asking tells you everything you need to know. You haven’t said a word the whole week, dodging his reaching hand and masking your pain with a smile. There isn’t much to say now, you both already know how this ends. Ever since teenagers none of you had been fond of long-distance relationships, and even before dating Bakugou had warned you this could happen. You got on the train anyway, because you loved him. And he loved you. Now you both have to get off, though you love him. And he loves you. 

His eyes are fixed on the broken tile by his feet. Not even sparing you a glance. 

“Do you have something to say?” It should make him mad, that you’re asking this now after seven days of him chasing you around. 

But he can’t get mad. He’s not sure he can feel a thing. “Yeah- uhm I-” Don’t say it, please don’t say it. “- you know we both don’t really do long distance, so.” 

“Hm.” It comes out as a choked sob, voice breaking and alerting him. But his eyes fall back down again. Why did he insist on this when he can’t even do it properly?

A minute goes by and you say nothing, just watch him play with the broken tile. The apartment is old but everything you ever wanted, with tiled floors and a pretty view of the city. 

“I never fixed it.” He says, pointing at the spot with the tip of his foot. “If you ask Kiri or Mina they could probably help you find a new one, replace it.” 

You know he’s not talking about himself, about your relationship. Still, it hurts. 

“I like it the way it is.”

Bakugou laughs. “It’s broken”

“It works.” He catches onto your dry tone and stops his movements, straightening out his back and looking you in the eyes.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk? It’s pretty nice out there, we could get lunch later at that place you like- what is it called? Marga? Maggie?” He’s doing the same thing you did to him, so you can’t get mad. But you do. 

“Why don’t you just break up with me already?” Make it quick so it doesn’t hurt as much.

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What? I’m trying to be nice, have a last date before-” He interrupts himself with an exasperated sigh. “You know what, fine! If you don’t want to, it's fine. I can spend the rest of the day at my parents’ if this is uncomfortable, but keep in mind I tried to do this earlier and you didn’t let me. Do you even know how I feel? I’m the asshole that’s breaking both our hearts and it’s not even my fault!” 

Bakugou’s fury has never frightened you, but his cheeks covered in tears is a horror that hunts you in your sleep. You can’t help but think of his younger self, so volatile and fragile, how he’d shoot to kill without a second thought. Now he’s matured, and it shows. You should tell him to stay, at least until he has to leave. But your pain is bigger and angrier.

“Yes, that would help a lot actually.” He’s not expecting those words, but his reaction is one proper of his persona.

“Fine. I’ll go.” 

“Fine.”

And with a slamming door he moves onto a better, greater future. 

2. (lovely, hurtful, magnetism)

It’s hot when you see him again. Todoroki has invited you over to his family’s summer house, and apparently said invitation extended over to his other group of friends. Of course you knew about this before agreeing to come, you’re not an idiot and your friend is not an actual airhead. 

sho has created the group chat  “ todoroki’s summer house ”

sho has added you

sho has added pinky

sho has added kiri

sho has added curls

sho - hi come this tuesday im staying for two weeks

sho - lmk if i forgot to add anyone

sho has added ‘ki

sho - bakugou your here for summer right

‘ki - yes 

sho - k

‘ki - and it’s you’re

sho - k

Then Ochako and Kaminari flooded your phone with messages. You texted Shouto privately, and he explained to you Bakugou had been fired. Apparently, the hero agency had been in debt for quite some time and managed to hide it, staying afloat but barely. Later this spring they began cutting people out, saying goodbye to most of their rookies- including Bakugou. You winced at the sound of his name, just imagining how much of a fit he would’ve thrown. 

sho - hes fine though

sho - got a big compensation 

(Not that you asked how he was doing, but you thanked him for the info anyways.)

Everyone in both groups heard about your breakup, either from you or from him. (this you knew because your friend, Todoroki Shouto has been part of both groups since high school) (and also because he’s a gossipy motherfucker). It didn’t come as a surprise though, they knew neither of you would agree to try- it’s self-suicide, but for romantic relationships.

Still you never expected the reunion to be so tense. 

“Hey! Hi! Oh my god it’s been ages!” Kirishima is the first of them to arrive, caging you in a reciprocated bear hug. 

“Hi Kiri, how have you been?” You’ve always liked the redhead, such a cheery, reliable person. 

“Oh you know, busy but overall fine. Hey, my moms told me they saw you at the park, you have a dog now?” His smile is so blinding for a moment you forget your manners, squinting your eyes at him. 

“Yes, yes I got a dog. Her name is Kesha.” An even brighter light invades your sight as he throws his head back laughing.

“You gotta be kidding me, Kaminari is gonna love that!” 

And then the rest come. Mina hugs you tight, a warm touch you know holds a different meaning. Momo and Jirou arrive with Ochako, the three girls sending you glances every time Kirishima observes Bakugou’s uncharacteristic unpunctuality- something you’ve been thinking about since you got here, ready to face him as the first guest. A few moments later Izuku makes his way down from the second floor, his beauty bath finally done.

“A bath? In this heat? Man you’re nuts.” Sero comments. He has a new bike, even bigger than the last one. 

Finally, once you’re all getting dinner started, Bakugou and Kaminari show up at the door. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“Dude! Traffic was crazy, I swear to god we tried our best to get here on time but- Oh! Hi!” The blonde’s eyes have found you, and god bless his soul for his lack of brain cells. “Í didn’t- I brought him” He lifts his thumb and points at Bakugou hiding behind him. “I hope that’s fine?”

They’re standing by the living room entrance, and though you both manage to avoid each other’s eyes it’s still pretty clear that this is not a comfortable situation.

“Kaminari! Bro! Guess what?” Kirishima suddenly erupts from his spot next to you on the couch, gaining all of his friend’s attention. “Her dog’s name is Kesha.” He savors every letter, slowly, making sure they get that itch behind Denki’s ears. 

Kaminari’s face lights up, mouth hanging open. “Shut up!” Before you know it, he’s squeezing himself next to you and grabbing you by the shoulders, almost forcing you to take out your phone and show him pictures of your baby. 

Meanwhile Bakugou hands the tray with the dessert to Momo, following her into the kitchen and greeting your friends. “Hi.” Nod. “Hi.” Nod. Jirou goes for a fist bump, but Ochako just sends him a bitter smile. I’m on her side.

“Bakugou, does this need extra cold? I can put it in the freezer if you want.” Momo saves him from starting a silent fight. 

“Yes, yes that’d be better. It probably melted a bit during the car ride.” His hands are sweating- have been since Kaminari picked him up at his parent’s house.

“Why’d you take so long?” Jirou’s voice joins. He’s sure she’s on his side, but he’s not willing to trust too much- after all her girlfriend is your friend. 

“That dumb idiot took a wrong turn and didn’t listen to me, I should’ve come here on my own.” 

“Yeah right, and leave him behind. Because that’s what you do with the people you care about.” Ochako’s words take a second to digest, but soon enough their venom pumps in his veins with an anger he hasn’t felt since high school. 

It’s not fair. If this is how she’s reacting, then what twisted story have you told them? Yes, he left, but you knew it would happen. You knew it and didn't want to see it until it was too late, waited until the very last minute to turn it around and make him the bad guy. You, out of everyone, villainized him. Still, he contains himself, choosing to ignore her comment and move on to join the others.

“And then he jumped on me! Out of nowhere!” Kaminari has stolen the show. He’s standing on the couch, arms everywhere and crazy eyes making sure everyone is watching him. 

Bakugou’s gaze travels down, to the spot next to him. You’re resting your head on your arm, bent over the back cushion and staring up at his friend with a soft smile on your lips. You’re pretty (prettier, he thinks, but it’s probably his mind playing tricks). Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than how you usually wear it, but it suits you (obviously). The clothes you’re wearing are new too, or at least he doesn’t remember seeing you with that shirt on. He wonders how many people have, but it only ignites a fire he worked so hard to put out. Then you turn your head and look at him. It takes him a second to realize he’s been caught, but you hold his gaze for longer than he expected so he can’t back down now.

His red eyes provoke you, starting a game you’re not sure how to win. It burns your skin. Your fun is cut short though, Ochako has entered the room and is urging you to move your ass so I can sit. Her chubby fingers find their way to your waist and tickle you out of your trance, sending Bakugou a glare once she’s got your attention. Leave her alone.

Dinner goes smoothly, you’re such a big number of people it’s hard to focus on one thing at once so it’s fine if you fuck up, no one will notice. You’re seated between Shouto and Ochako, one shielding you from your ex and the other passing the chips and sauce. 

“So, when will my suit be done?” Sero asks, lifting his voice so everyone can hear. “That’s right, she’s been assigned my suit to fix! Don’t mind me having one of the best engineers in the country working on my favor!” The table explodes in shocked gasps and jealous whines. 

“I’ve been asking for you since we got out of high school! It’s not fair!” Ochako cries.

“I told you it’s not my decision to make! They just assign them to me!” More whining. 

Todoroki takes a sip of his non-alcoholic cider and decides to open his big mouth. “But in short time it will be.” After that they all fall silent, the sound of his sipping the only noise.

Then the room erupts again. Questions here and there, a few guesses to your answer. Are you moving away? Please don’t leave us! Omg please tell me it’s Best Jeanist!

It takes a moment to calm them down, and some extra work to make Kaminari stop throwing wild guesses at you. “I actually have a few offers-” you raise your hands up to stop them from invoking chaos again, “-one is abroad, yes.” An echo of ooohs is heard. “But the best option is right here, in this city.” You know that answer won’t satisfy them, they won’t stop bugging until you give them a name. They stare, expectantly. “The Bakugou’s are expanding their fashion industry and going into hero design, so they need an engineer and apparently I’m the best one they know.” Momo and Ochako have lost their smiles, Izuku is holding his breath and Shouto is eating salad. You thank every celestial being for Tsuyu’s absence, or else she would have spat hurtful facts right then and there. “It’s actually a really good job offer. I’ve known them for ages, so I trust them enough to suggest any changes if needed, and I’ll get to run the engineering department, so I’ll basically be the boss!” Sero and Mina look at each other, and you know they want to be supportive, but the air has suddenly grown dense. Bakugou hasn’t uttered a word, eyes fixed on his food but he’s not eating. “I could finally take in your requests, fix your suits, and all that.” Your voice grows smaller with every sentence you speak, feeling like all of this was a huge mistake. It feels wrong to add that you’ve already accepted this offer, that you’re starting in a few weeks. 

“That’s good, you’ve always wanted your own workshop and you’re good at managing people. Congratulations.” Bakugou says through greeted teeth, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat. His eyes are on yours again. Yes, your body is definitely burning up. 

You give him a tight smile, fighting the urge to cringe at yourself. It’s infuriatingly exciting how giddy you feel, shy but in a good way, wanting more.  

“Who wants dessert?” Shouto has finished his salad, and though he’s the only one with a clean plate nothing will come between him and his sweets (you’ll hold him accountable for his youngest child behavior later).

(Momo pulls you apart before going to bed, she just wants to make sure you’ve thought this trough. It’s his parents I’m working for, not him. She doesn’t insist, trusting you’re grown enough to know what you’re getting into.)

-

The following days are spent as you had imagined. Lots of food, pool days, karaoke nights, card games, Kaminari getting sunburnt, more food and maybe some peace and quiet.

“Why didn’t Iida come?” Denki asks during breakfast one day and everyone looks at him incredulously. He’s already done, swinging himself on a hammock and staring at the Todoroki’s huge garden. The silence makes him shift in place.  “What?”

“Dude, he’s been in the states for about a year now.” He left around the same time as Bakugou did. But Iida is not really his friend, so he wouldn’t know.  

“No way! What about his girlfriend? Did he leave her?” Just as always, Kaminari Denki doesn’t think twice before speaking. He gets the same stares as before, but this time no one answers.

You sigh and say- “They broke up.”

“Oh man, so he did leave her behind.” 

“No, they broke up dumbass. They talked like adults and realized it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t leave her.” Bakugou sounds defensive, one more stupid question away from skinning his friend alive. 

“It happens Denks.” You can’t believe you’re the ones having this conversation, especially when neither of you could do it back then. 

“Oh, oh. Right, sorry my bad.” 

Everyone’s plates are empty, so you take it as your chance to get up and flee back inside to the kitchen. If your eagerness at cleaning dirty dishes exposes your true feelings they don’t say, and you don’t care. 

You try not to blame Denki, but it’s because of him you’re now thinking about that awful week. It’s been almost a year, yet you still can’t get his words out of your head. You should’ve stopped him, accepted his offer for a last date and locked that memory within the confines of your heart. But instead, you stood and watched it all burn down. 

A rattle of glass against glass startles you, and you turn to see Bakugou has placed a tray of cutlery and plates on the counter. He takes a look at your gloved hands under the water and furrows his brows.

“What are you doing? What's wrong with their dishwasher?” He immediately falls down to his knees, eyeing the machine with touchy hands- like a dad. You get rid of that thought as soon as it appears, not willing to go down that road today. 

“Shouto said it’s broken, overflows and ends up flooding the whole place.” 

“Hm.” 

His presence makes your tummy feel warm even after all this time. Of course, for years you thought you’d marry him, build your own house on the beachside and start a family together. Bakugou had always wanted a daughter, a little demon stronger than him, someone he could swing around in his arms and wrestle once big enough. 

“I’ll go fetch some tools, see if I can get this working.” You know he won’t be able to fix it, you took a look as soon as you got here, and since you’re the engineer between the heroes it would be smart to trust your judgment. But Bakugou likes to feel useful, so you let him be.

Not even two minutes later he’s back at your side, sitting on the floor with one leg over the other and his face buried in the dishwasher- mumbling ‘fuck is this’s and ‘the hell’s. 

“Nah, this shit is broken broken.” He says as he gets up from the ground. You stifle a giggle and focus on the never-ending pile in front of you, extending onto the counter on your left side. “You’re not done yet? What’s with all this mess, who left the dinner dishes there?” 

“Sero and Shouto were on cleaning duty last night.” After years of dealing with those boys, your answer is enough to explain today’s disaster. 

Bakugou’s face turns into a scowl, vein popping on the side of his forehead. “Those damn, spoiled brats, I swear to god I don’t understand why I’m still friends with them, they're so- infuriating.” His rant against his friends makes you smile against your will. “I’ll dry them off, but you’ll have to tell me where they go ‘cause this fucking house is a labyrinth.” 

His eyes meet yours for the third time this week, and you find the same burning flame staring back- just like the old times. 

He works in silence, taking a knife and wiping it, waiting for you to point at the first drawer in the right corner. Then he grabs a pot, wincing when he bumps it against a glass and makes a horrible noise. Bottom cabinet to the right. The domesticity of the situation freezes your heart and makes your mind race. His calloused hands are still as gentle as you remember them, handling every object with the same care he used to hold your face. 

“How were things in your new home? Did you like it?” You’re the first to break the silence. 

Bakugou hates small talk, but something tells him you genuinely want to know. Was it worth it? 

He cleans his throat before saying- “Yes, it was… something.” He swallows. 

You know what you’re doing, it’s not nice but you can’t stop. “Did you make any friends?” He didn’t, you know it takes him six months to see a stranger is also a human being and an extra four months to gather the courage to talk to them (if they don’t make one (1) mistake and ruin it all).

“No.” You know what you’re doing, and you know he knows it too. “I didn’t have much time, working as a rookie is not so fun so I focused on getting promoted. Also, my peers weren’t the most accepting, so I figured why bother?”  

Oh. You go back in your tracks and lower your weapon. “Sorry to hear that.” You take the dish soap and pour some over the sponge. “Did they say something? Or do something?” You tread cautiously, fearing his answer might be a yes. 

“Nah, not directly to me but they made sure to express their opinions.” It’s not the first time it’s happened, but he can see your shoulders tense. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it so it’s not a big deal anymore. Most people are shit, and the heroics field isn’t the most queer-friendly environment, so I didn’t go in expecting a welcoming party.”  

You should feel ashamed, attacking one of his weak spots and ending up being you who needs reassurance. Still you can’t stop picturing him avoiding dressing rooms, sulking back to an empty apartment and showering in hot enough water to boil away the day. You want to rip to shreds the smiles of those who hurt him, drill into their empty heads and hand them out to an agonizing death. It’s silly, he’s a grown man, not that angry kid anymore. He doesn’t need your protection, he never has. Bakugou has gone through hell and come back alive, stronger than ever, so you want to believe him when he says it's fine. 

“It still shouldn’t be like that, you know, normal.” His hand goes over the same spot again and again, wiping the already dry plate with the kitchen cloth. 

“Yeah it shouldn’t, but it is, so.” He thinks his answer is a bit too negative, too sad. Bakugou doesn’t enjoy drawing the victim card, but he knows it sticks to him everywhere he goes though it's invisible to most. “Don’t think I always accept that, you know that if needed I will stand my ground. This time it wasn’t so smart to fight, but the next time it may be worth it.” 

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” You’re still inside your own head, going through every shitty experience he must have had. Why do you do this to yourself? 

After a moment of silence he cleans his throat one more time, deciding to change the subject.

“Hey, sorry for Kaminari. Not just today but back to the first day, he’s been acting weird because I told him not to act weird around you. Should’ve known it would backfire.” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just… not aware of many things.” You gift him a tight-lipped smile. It’s okay, everything is fine.

“Yeah well, I guess you’re used to Shouto who’s actually worse. That menace, I bet It’s not a coincidence I’m here as well.” 

His comment takes you off guard, and it makes you giggle. Bakugou smiles, eyes softening at the sight, and he laughs too. 

You have to admit you thought the same, not really convinced with his “I miss my buddies” act. Your friend is known for proclaiming himself as a professional matchmaker, so when you heard his brilliant idea you had your suspicions. “Ugh don’t even mention it, I interrogated him for days, but he never broke.”

“He’s too strong.” He’s joking, and you’re laughing. If you stop for a second to take in what’s going on you're sure you’ll cry. “Though if he actually had a plan, he wouldn’t have invited Ochako. God I swear she probably has a voodoo doll of me hidden under her pillow, pokes it with needles every time she goes to bed.” 

“Hey! Don’t talk about my girl like that! She would never.” Feigning seriousness, you look him dead in the eye, then letting out a snort that evolves into a full-on cackle, not even believing the bullshit you’re saying. Of course she would do it, and more. 

“Right, sure.” He rolls his eyes.

You take some time to regain your breath, holding a hand over your stomach to stop the pain. 

Bakugou stares, has been doing so since he got here. “What?” You’re still trying to compose yourself, lose hairs falling in front of your eyes. He swallows. 

“It’s nice to see you happy.” His words are genuine. Soft. 

You take a deep breath and straighten your back, grabbing another dish. “In general? Or because you’re the one making me laugh?” 

He can tell you don’t mean to attack him, after years by your side he’d recognize your teasing tone anywhere. “Why not both?” 

It’s funny, to be in this position. You with your hands soaked, the useless gloves only for decoration, and Bakugou with a kitchen cloth in hand doing part of his work as well. A familiar feeling makes its way up your throat, and you push it down. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Two months.” He answers quickly, like if he takes too long you might slip away. Bakugou never hopes, but for you he’d even pray. 

“Hm.” Many things could happen in two months, but not enough to leave a scar, you think. “Where are you going after that?” You turn the tap off and turn around, leaning back against the sink and watching his arms flex as he stretches to place a glass in the top cabinet. His muscles have gotten bigger, you’ve seen his naked body a million times, but here up close and clothed it holds a different meaning- forbidden. Tempting. 

He stares back, eyes flying down to your lips and back to your eyes. “I got a contact in this other agency, says there’ll be an open spot for me.” Same old story. But you’re not the same old you. 

“Hm.” 

-

Your back hits the mattress but you’ve got no time to complain, as a blonde mop of hair kneels between your legs and lifts up your summer dress. Bakugou’s tongue is buried inside your cunt, nose nudging at your clit and hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs wide open. A desperate whine leaves your mouth, and you curse yourself for your lack of restraint, giving in so easily to the man you’ve cried rivers for. 

His bare back is displayed beneath you, and you take it as your chance to scratch it, leaving marks for the world to see. This time Bakugou is the one moaning, sending the vibrations straight into your core, an arch forming at the low of your back. “Fuck, Katsuki.” He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, devouring you even more intently. Your hands move up to tangle in his ashy strands, pulling and gaining a different sound each time. It’s hot, seeing him so pliant, panting between your folds and determined to make you reach heaven. 

His tongue abandons your hole and is replaced by two fingers, moving up to lap at your clit as he fucks into you- hitting that gummy spot that makes you see stars. “Shit sh-there! Right there ‘suki ah-” His name gets shorter with every thrust, planting in his mind the goal of turning you nonverbal.  

Even once you reach your high, he’s still on you. Slightly mean at first, not leaving you alone and overstimulating you. But finishing off with a peck to your nub, sweet, loving. He lifts himself up and lays next to you on the unmade bed, left arm across your rib cage and nose buried in your neck. For a second your mind conjures up images of him loving other people, but it all quickly fades away. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t have sex, he makes love. He shows it in the way he touches you, not to take but to give, not because he’s thirsty but because he simply cares. The reminder threatens to awaken your fight or flight responses, but his strong arms keep you grounded. This is not love making, the weight of your soul has left an indent in his heart so it’s natural for him to want you. So you lie to yourself, convincing your heart he’s not here because he loves you but because you’re familiar. (It’s to no use, the flaming passion in his eyes is not lust and you know that, but you can’t admit this is a mistake. Not yet)

Without waiting any longer, and trying not to give it much thought, you manage to turn him around, so he lays on his back. The scars decorating his torso shine in the morning light seeping through the curtains, and your hand follows the line of every healed wound. His arm hairs raise up and his breath hatches, eyes burning into yours. 

Wet lips meet his neck, making their way down to his chest and when you kiss under his nipples his eyes fill with tears. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, the touch of someone who knows how to touch him, how to love him. Bakugou’s mouth is dry but the place between his legs isn’t. Should he stop you? What if it’s too late to try this? What if he no longer likes it? More questions flood his mind, and by the time he’s reached absurdity you’re already taking his shorts off. 

His body has already surrendered to you, but his mind is still spinning in the same spot. What if you no longer like him? But you do, because you don’t dive into him like a feral animal but go down slowly instead, taking your time and giving him space to grow used to the sensations. On you this would feel painfully slow, too boring, not enough. But on him it’s paradise. Your tongue has wandered every inch of his cunt, but has yet to kiss his clit, pulsating expectantly. Bakugou’s tummy fills with butterflies, and you smile at the sight of fists closed around a handful of cover sheets- head to the side, your scent impregnated on the pillow makes him go nuts. More. But he doesn’t ask for it, because he knows it will be too much. Instead, he enjoys your sweet torture, edging him closer with every second. 

The art of eating out Bakugou Katsuki is one you’re proud to say you’ve mastered. It took time, first he had to let you in and then you had to learn how to do it the way he liked it. Everyone knows he’s a control freak, so his performance in bed was never a surprise to you. He knew what he wanted and if you couldn’t give it to him then he didn’t want you- deeming you useless and unworthy. 

He’s putty in your hands, giving in to your touch and trusting you won’t hurt him. When he cums he’s silent, but not quiet. Deep, shaky breaths and eyes squeezed shut, trying to come back down from his high before his face turns red- still that shy boy you fell in love with. 

This sequence keeps repeating itself in your head for the next two days, until it manifests in real life again. And again. And again.

Bakugou’s hands seem to always find their way onto your skin, no matter where you are. His arms wrap around you from behind as he follows you into the garage- down and settling on your lower belly, thumbs slipping underneath your top and trailing up your belly button. The rest of your friends are all by the pool, waiting for you to grab the beach ball. Wet kisses down your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh. Why were you here again?

His nose tickles your ear, and you giggle, grabbing onto his hands and keeping them from climbing upwards. “If I don’t go out there soon they’ll send in Kaminari, or worse. Ochako.” His face scrunches up at the sound of her name. 

“They won’t find us if we go upstairs and stay quiet.” Kiss, nip, kiss. Face now buried on your shoulder. 

“Katsuki…” 

And the never-ending cycle would start again. Your friends pretty much already know by now, though you’re surprised they haven’t tried to talk you out of it yet. Todoroki is the only one who’s shown his support, (eager to indulge in his mischief) continuing to create situations where you’re both forced to be left alone together.

There’s no more bread? Why don’t you go? Bakugou go with her so she doesn’t get lost. 

Hey. You’re both on cleaning duty for the night.  

Bakugou take my seat. I want to be next to Sero. 

Ochako still sends him nasty glares, but she hasn’t objected. 

-

Once your little vacation is over, you all go back to your normal boring lives, and you have to come to terms with the sad realization that your daydream is over. Except Bakugou still has a month and a half left. He’ll be staying over at his parents, maybe you’ll get to see him more often, now that you’re working for them. It’s a tricky thought, you tell yourself you’re not eager to see him, you’re just excited about this new opportunity and it’s got nothing to do with him. 

“Hey son, why don’t you help us out? There are some prototypes that need testing.” Masaru has always liked you two together, inviting you over for dinner even more often this past year now that his only boy isn’t close. 

“Sure”

It’s all a trick. His dad leaves it all to you, excusing himself out of the workshop and never coming back. You’re stuck with seven arm weapon prototypes and a tall, blushing man. 

Bakugou feels dumb, like a little kid. He can’t understand what is so special about your greasy fingers dancing all over his skin as you secure the arm cannon. Maybe you’re too close, and between his elevated body temperature and the growing heat in the studio it’s only natural his cheeks will burn. Again, dumb. He’s been closer to you, much closer, just a week ago. His face had been suffocating against your own heat for fucks sake, and he didn’t feel like fainting back then. 

“It’s so tight, I don’t think it’ll be safe to-”

“Just put it on!” He can’t stand your mumbling and poor wording, not right now. Still there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from picturing you above him, chest heaving and covered in sweat as you try to fill him up with your pink stra-

“There we go! Holy shit that was hard.” 

Though Bakugou is not a fan of this reacquired excitement after months of relying solely on the use of his own fingers, it’s still not what rules his worries. It’s been years since he’s accepted the fact that yes, he wants you and there’s nothing he can do about it- but it’d be dumb to leave out the fact that his reaction has a cause, and it’s directly connected to his heart. At first, he thought he’d be able to just enjoy your touch, but now he finds himself craving a different sort of intimacy, one he’s not sure you’ll be willing to give to him. 

Still, he manages, stealing soft kisses when you’re too occupied moaning into his ear, holding you closer than what’s proper for two people in your situation. You don’t push him away when he stays the night, or when he shamelessly shows up announced with a bag of take out in hand. Cuddles after sex is one of his rules so you don’t get to complain against it, but he’s not sure how appropriate it is to press his body onto yours with the thought of fusing your souls into one. All he does know is that you always give in, as if you want it as much as he does. 

Your hands travel up and down his spine, jumping from freckle to scar to freckle again. His breathing is steady, unlike moments ago. It’s contagious, the warmth his body irradiates as it lays on top of yours, filling you with serenity. Your fingers scratch his undercut and his body shifts, pressing you further against the mattress in his childhood bed. Katsuki turns his head and leaves a trail of pecks on the side of your neck, igniting a rush of goosebumps down your arms and legs. You feel him smile against your skin. 

“It’s really going to hurt this time.” Your words break the lovely bubble that surrounds you. 

Unlike the last time, you and Bakugou have been talking. A lot. About his future, and about your current present. He’s made it clear he’s still leaving, and you’ve promised yourself not to blame him. You choose to be with him right now, even if it’ll break you later. 

The blonde lets out a heavy sigh, his rib cage expanding against your tummy. You wish you could turn him into a pocket size human, you’d keep him with you at all times and take him everywhere you go. 

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty shitty.” 

He wishes you’d ask him to stay. Just one word and he’d throw everything out the window, forcing himself down your throat and getting comfy in the nooks of your heart. He knows you’ll never say it- no, you’d never do that to him. And he wouldn’t ask it of you, to leave your dream behind and join him. He’s not that selfish. 

-

The drive to the airport seems too short. Before you know it, he’s already done his check-in, standing in front of his parents and getting ready to say goodbye. You can’t help but think this is how it should’ve been the last time. He shouldn’t have boarded that plane with the bitter remnants of a breakup lingering on his tongue, as he’s set to face a new place all by himself. No, this time you’re doing it right. 

Mitsuki holds on to him for a while, judging his choice of clothes and asking for the hundredth time if he’s got his passport with him. “Ma, I’ve got everything so quit your worrying.” His tone is rough, just like his mother’s. “I promise I’ll call you when we Iand, okay?” 

She sniffs and fights to hold back the tears, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the ground. Masaru’s eyes have been red and puffy since he got out of the car, he’s already done his fair share of crying and pulls his wife closer to soothe her sadness. 

Finally, he turns to look at you. He’s as stiff as a board, straight back and heavy eyes. But his lips quiver for a second, as he extends his arms out to you for a hug. You let him wrap you up in his warmth, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his smell for one last time- you wish you could store it in a bottle, take it with you at all times.

Bakugou kisses the top of your head and nuzzles his face into your hair, exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna miss you.” He whispers it, only meant for you to hear.

You don’t say it back, doing so will only be grieving in advance a loss that hasn’t happened yet. For this moment, right now, he’s still yours. 

A voice over the speakers calls for the passengers of his flight, and he has to let go of you. Yet his hands are still on the small of your back, fingers clasped together and eyes now staring at yours. He leans down and kisses your forehead, then your nose and eventually your lips. 

“Katsuki, don’t.” 

But he doesn’t listen, moving his hands to cradle your face and inch closer until his open mouth is set atop of yours. The voice echoes through the speakers and he deepens the kiss. When you break apart your face is wet, tears decorate your cheeks just like his. 

With your foreheads pressed together he says it again. “I’ll miss you.” You push him away, pulling every ugly face available to stop you from breaking down in front of him. 

You watch him disappear in the sea of people and suitcases. A gentle hand squeezes your shoulder. Mitsuki. She looks even worse than you, and you can tell this isn’t as bad as the first time. You hug her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck and finally letting it all out. 

The ride back home is silent, though Masaru tries to cheer you all up with work talk. It makes you smile; how different he is from his son.

And you cry again. 

3. (rotten core, predictable mistakes)

“Bakugou?” 

The other side of the screen emits only silence. Maybe if you weren’t being woken up at four in the morning, you’d be able to distinguish his breathing.

“Hello?” you try again.

This time you hear some ruffling, it’s not paper but it isn’t bed sheets either. At least it means he’s right there. Luckily your tired mind is too slow to jump to the worst-case scenario, so before you start picturing him lying on the floor of his apartment all bloody and bruised, he’s already speaking.

“I saw your picture, the one you sent me yesterday.” You can tell he’s been crying. “I was busy, so I guess I didn't realize I had opened your chat. I liked the dog, the one with the green collar.”

This is the fourth time this month. Lately you’ve both been very busy, finally falling into your usual schedules and being swallowed by work. The first months after your summer adventures were heaven, some part of you still believes that might have all been a dream.

He was so sweet, so present. You were so eager, genuinely happy. Even if he wasn’t next to you, Bakugou would have the decency to call you during lunch break instead of ungodly hours, always keeping in mind your normal work shifts in comparison to his. He would tell you about his day and you would ramble about your own stuff, exchanging pictures and sometimes videos. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t strangers either. 

Back then it wasn’t hard for you to text him good morning and check the weather in his city to remind him to take a coat with him to work. None of it was necessary but you knew it made him start the day with a smile drawn on his face.

Half into the second month, things started to fall apart. Hero work got real, with all that it entails. Bakugou’s battered face would appear on the news and you’d run to the phone, calling his parents when he wouldn’t pick up. You knew what it meant to love someone like him, with a job like this. But it was different when you couldn’t be by his side. Mitsuki and Masaru understood you, letting you stay over at their house to be there when news came. Still, that didn’t stop you from bombarding his phone, planting the seed of a possible fight. If only you could just not care.

The first real argument you had over the phone was one you should’ve seen coming. Bakugou had his ass beaten by a villain and didn’t give signs of life for a whole week. He didn’t text any of his friends, nor his parents, and he obviously didn’t talk to you. You weren’t really dating after all so you shouldn’t have expected special treatment.

“Could you fucking stop.” Those were the first words he said to you.

You had stopped calling and resigned to just text him, like everyone else did. But when his contact showed up on your screen during a shift at work, you dropped everything to answer.

“I’m fine just- I need to be alone.” He didn’t wait for you to say anything, just hung up on you.

You’d known Bakugou for years, enough to know he’s not a loser. These recent encounters with villains had left him rather… sensitive. Maybe you were used to his strenuous confidence, acting as a cover for his own insecurities hidden deep below his ego- it wasn’t weird to see him down, but it wasn’t common for him to not try to get back up. So naturally you worried. Everyone did.

For the following week all you did was wait for his call. Feeling as useless as ever. Little by little he started to talk again, first a picture of a stray cat, followed by a good morning text. Things were almost back to how they used to be before. You avoided hero talk, and he started to call more often. You could see he was sorry, though he never apologized for disappearing and leaving you sick worried for a week, he was desperately trying to make it up to you.

After that the midnight calls became a thing. You were too busy at work, not as eager to chat during lunch break- your only break. Going back home and just passing out, only picking up the phone to order some food and check emails. You talked to his parents a few times about him. The three of you agreed that he needed help, whether it was therapy or friends, Bakugou wasn’t made for bottling up- but that’s just exactly what he was known for. Still, you never suggested it, never even mentioned it. You were too tired, too busy, and he was too far, too stubborn. When he took notice of your distance, he panicked.

“Bakugou? It’s one a.m what happened?” The first time he called you were scared. Body jumping straight into action, ready to run over to his parents and find a way to help him out.

“I'm fine! Don’t worry I- I just wanted to talk. We haven’t in a while, you know.”

You were happy at first, something about these talks made a rush of excitement run through your body, like a kid breaking curfew. There was an unfamiliar sincerity in his voice, it made your heart ache, but you were glad he was reaching out for help. 

Then it became too much. He was too anxious, too volatile. And somehow, always too late.

“You looked pretty too.” I should be holding you close. “My mom told me you started-”

“Katsuki.” You cut him off, tired of hearing him dance around what he actually wants to say.

“Hm? What?” 

You leave an open spot, the chance for him to finally say it.

“I miss you.” He doesn’t, so you do. Still a coward. 

His stutter reaches your ear, more ruffling and tussling. What on earth is he doing? 

“Got my scarf stuck on my zipper, sorry.” 

Distance does something weird to the man you love, it reminds you why you never took the risk. 

You curl your body into a ball, hidden under the covers with your phone laying on the mattress next to your head. “Katsuki.” Tears begin to fall down. 

“Hm?” You wonder if he knows what’s coming. He probably does.

“Don’t call me anymore. Please.” You whisper the words, trying to dull the edge of the blade. 

He hangs up on you without giving an answer. You know he’s crying right now, and the thought makes the pain unbearable. 

The next morning you wake up and decide to text him a picture of your window. It’s raining outside and there's a rainbow in the sky. It’s pretty, maybe it’ll cheer him up. You regret your actions, but know they were necessary.

Bakugou takes two weeks to answer your texts, which are very few ‘cause apparently, you’re busy and don’t have as much time for him. He knows what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t have to drop it on him like that. Still, he wants you, if this is all you can offer, he’ll take it. 

katsuki - I tried frozen yogurt today

you - was it good?

katsuki - image 

katsuki - yes

It drives him nuts. Six months ago, you were sleeping in his arms, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with doe eyes. Six months ago, you were his and he was yours. Six months ago, he was loved. 

His fellow heroes are nice people, that’s the worst part. This is what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to fully enjoy it. You’re everywhere. 

you - look at this

you - image

you - he’s an idiot

A picture of Shouto’s face shines on his screen. He still is in his hero costume, but there’s wax bands covering where his attempt at a mustache should be. You sent it three hours ago, so he doesn’t respond- it’s late where you are and he doesn’t want to wake you. That day he goes to sleep with an ugly sensation settling into the pit of his stomach. Shouto is his friend, and your friend as well. But it’s been so long since he last talked to him, the pro hero could steal you without a hint of guilt in his iced heart. For a moment he forgets he’s talking about Deku’s husband, the same gay guy he’s known since he was fifteen. 

“He still could do it.” You could turn a gay man straight; he has no proof but no doubts either. 

And Todoroki loves like him, soft and quiet. No sex. Maybe he could be your type. Hell even a platonic relationship would work out, he knows the half and half bastard is down to it. Bakugou remembers their long night talks at the dorms, that time when Mina came out and Shouto said he didn’t like sex. It took Katsuki a while to realize his apple didn’t fall far from their tree, mainly because he couldn’t picture himself living in that body back then, so there was no use in worrying about things he would never try. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend the rest of my days with a loved one. But I don’t want romance, does that make sense? I’ve heard people date, but they don’t really- it’s like a really intense friendship.”

“All your friendships are intense, Mina.”

“Yes! Exactly, I would settle down with any- with all of you! I would love to sleep in the same bed and kiss your cheeks and raise children together! Kiri we could get a dog!” She had gained puzzled stares, a room full of boys in a binary world. 

“Can we get a kitten too?” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, compared to his present self he was basically a statue.

“Of course!”

“And I want my own room, I don’t like sharing beds with people.” 

“Sure! Anything you want!” 

He wonders if you’d like that. Maybe you’d move in with him and Deku, give them kids even.

Bakugou catches himself before falling down into that spiral, getting under the shower and turning on the cold water, letting it wash away his delusions. It’s his friends he’s talking about, they’d never do him so dirty. But maybe, for your happiness… 

It’s your life, you can do whatever you want. 

The thoughts accumulate and he pushes them to the back of his head, there’s more important things to fill that space with. Bakugou listens to your request and stops calling, maybe takes it too far when he starts ignoring your messages. It’s better this way. You’re not going to wait for him and he’s not going back, so why should he bother keeping in touch if it’s only gonna hurt you both? 

If we ever broke up, would we still be friends? 

Your words haunt him. His answer back then had been a simple no, because he was young and stubborn and couldn’t imagine a world in which he wasn’t your lover. Now that’s the world he lives in, and his answer remains the same. 

4. (closing act)

Ten months and twenty-seven days. One winter, one spring and one summer since you last spoke to Katsuki. You don’t blame him. 

sho - he doesn’t have to come

sho- i can always see him some other day

The holidays are just around the corner and all of your hero friends are taking time off- finally. All of them, including Bakugou. To be honest you didn’t expect him to accept Shouto’s invitation, knowing you are gonna be there as well and considering everything that had gone down between you two. Maybe he’s no longer offended, willing to be civilized and even friendly. It's  been a while. Still, you don’t get your hopes up. 

you - don’t worry i’m cool with it 

sho - k

It sucks to share friends with him, even though you've always been sure Shouto would never take a side, this time it feels like he has. He may not be as keen on hurting him as Ochako is, but he’s shared his thoughts on his friend’s behavior- I understand the need to flee, talking about emotions can be very frightening, but he’s a grown man. And most important, he was your friend once. I can’t imagine fighting with you and not trying to make up right after, I also can’t imagine him wanting that. It’s strange, maybe he needs time to sort things out. 

Again, you don’t blame him. You were the one who cut him off. You were the one who stopped texting when he stopped answering., knowing damn well he's not one to chase. You both gave up. 

sho - just now im here for you

Back again at Todoroki’s summer house, but now fully prepared for the winter season, you feel tiny. Small. There’s so many people everywhere you look it’s a bit overwhelming. One catch of ashy blonde hair has you meddling with strangers, starting small talks and pushing champagne down your throat. All to forget about his presence, to keep you busy and out of his way. And Bakugou does the same, avoiding entering any room you walk in, sticking to Kirishima’s side until he warns him- “I’m gonna go say hi, but you can wait here if it’s too awkward-” “Tch, fuck off.” 

The Christmas decorations are pretty, the big, ornamented tree in the living room gets all the compliments but your eyes are set on the gingerbread cookies Fuyumi brought. 

“You seriously made this?” She nods, a proud smile spreading on her lips. Her mother joins her side, hugging her arm and resting her head on her shoulder. 

“They’re so pretty my love.” Rei's voice is sweet and tender, motherly. 

It’s nice to see them happy. 

You settle next to them at the dinner table, asking about Touya’s recovery and Natsu’s absence. A few years ago they would’ve deflated, Rei would’ve excused herself to the bathroom leaving Fuyumi to answer all the harsh questions. Now their eyes shimmer and shine, the boys are doing well! Touya is still in rehab and looking better every day, showing signs of a possible re-integration into society which excites and frightens them at the same time. 

“They told us there may be a chance he relapses, but it’s the risk to take if he wants to have a normal life.” 

The shortest of the siblings is spending the holidays in Okinawa with his fiancé’s family, and you let out an audible gasp at the news.

“He’s engaged? Shouto! That little bastard didn’t tell me- oh! I’m gonna rip him to shreds!” 

Your voice is unescapable. Bakugou can hear you laugh, hiss, complain and even pout form his seat at the far end of the table, away from you. He had forced Kirishima to a secluded spot, between some B-list heroes Shouto is friends with- his social butterfly of a friend moping next to him. 

“Why is she so fucking loud.” It’s not a question, and it’s only meant for Kirishima, but the brunette on his other side sends him a nasty side eye. 

“Dude, you’re being rude.” Eijirou warns him, longingly staring at his friends conversing on the opposite end.

“And she’s being annoying.” That earns him a smack to his head, which he fully accepts as the words of his childhood therapist echoe in his mind. 

That anger, that fury you’re throwing at others, it’s fully yours. You have to listen to it, not push it deep and far away, otherwise it’s going to come up in a violent spurt and it’ll harm you and the ones you love. Being strong is all about letting yourself be weak, Katsuki. 

He wishes he were in the mood to channel that energy. 

“You’re such a dick!” Though he does find your voice infuriating, he still can’t help looking at you. Arms up in the air and ready to slap Todoroki across the face. If he weren’t feeling so bitter, he’d laugh. “I’m calling him once we’re done eating, I can’t believe neither of you said anything! This is a big thing!” 

“I'll let you put rockets in my suit's pants as a revenge.” Shouto is joking but his face muscles stay unmoving. 

“Wait, you’re the one who works with the Bakugou’s? I knew your face sounded familiar!” Patch, Shouto’s sidekick, shines a bright smile your way. “That must be so cool!” 

He’s barely twenty, a cheery boy with dimples like Deku’s. “Yeah, it is pretty awesome. I designed Ingenium’s last costume upgrade, don’t know if you’ve seen it. With the boosters.” Todoroki drama long forgotten; you dive in for a possibly new client.

“Oh I did! And the little refreshing station, I watched a video of a dutch engineer breaking down the mechanics behind it and it was crazy!” His excitement is contagious, fills your chest with pride and suddenly you’re bragging about your other inventions, showering in compliments and enjoying every single second of it. 

Most eyes are on you, and little by little everyone joins in on your conversation. Everyone but him. 

“Man, I wanted so badly to be part of the support team when I was a kid!” 

“It’s never too late to try, we could use more hands honestly.” 

“I don’t know,” Suna says, because yes now you’re on a first name basis, “I’ve worked so hard to become a hero- I can’t back down now you know.”

Ugh, same old story.

You sigh and tch at him. “You heroes are all the same. Still, I stand by what I said, it’s never too late. There’s no shame in waking up tomorrow and deciding you want to quit, open a bakery and live a simple life.”

You can feel Bakugou’s response before you hear it, buzzing in your ears like a memorized speech from a long time ago. He straightens his back, trying to seem as big as possible and opening his big, loud, mouth.

“Don’t say that to the kid. He’s gotta fight for what he wants, if he thinks he can make it he shouldn’t give up just ‘cause he’s scared.” It’s the first thing he has said to you all night. And it’s not a bark but he sure as hell is showing his teeth. 

“Oh Dynamight sir! Don’t worry, I’m not quitting. It’s just a silly little dream of mine, sort of a if I weren’t a hero what would I be? kinda thing. A plan B.” His chubby cheeks are as red as Katsuki’s ears, hands waving apologetically.

Rolling your eyes, you stop Suna's hands and throw him an apologetic smile, turning back to face your ex. “I’m not telling him to quit, Bakugou.” You grit your teeth, trying your best to keep your composure and not ruin dinner for everyone else. “He was admiring my work and I encouraged him to do whatever he wants, whether it’s hero work or to help from the sidelines.” 

With tense shoulders and walls built all the way up, you wait for the explosion. But he doesn’t fight back- not that it was a fight, not nearly an argument, no. Still he takes his plate and gets up, followed by Kirishima and Mina as they excuse themselves. You stay and reassure the poor rookie, looking pale and mumbling so sorry’s with his head hanging low. Ochako gives you a look from the other side of the table, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. Looks like someone is in a bad mood. 

The rest of the evening goes according to plan- Shouto’s plan (which is actually Fuyumi’s). Dessert is served along with champagne, white sparkly alcohol setting the Christmassy mood. You can tell your friend was able to slide his ideas past his sister’s filters as you dig your teeth into a chocolate chip cupcake with an icing decoration that simulates a snowman. That last interaction with Bakugou has left you uneasy, making out his face in places he actually isn’t and wondering if you did give bad advice to a soon-to-be hero.

Though it’s an opinion you’ve had for many years, it is heavily interlaced with your own experience. With him. But how could it not be? Your ex-boyfriend is the perfect example, the on-going, repetitive case of the big, scary hero who will throw everything out the window for a chance at greatness. Yes, there’s people with ambition, it happens to those who have big dreams that aren’t easy to obtain. Then there’s heroes. It’s not bad if a medical student wants to drop out and give out midway, to quit and major in arts- it sure is a hell of a decision to make, but it’s not the end of a world. But heroes, they believe that because their jobs are strictly connected to saving people’s lives and making the world a better place, there’s not such a thing as quitting. And people think so too, condemning those who dare take a step back and judging the ones who refuse to go down that path, no matter how helpful their quirks are. So, to have superiors like Bakugou who can’t give in to their weaknesses and take a minute to think about themselves only contributes to the problem. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tsuyu’s voice interrupts your internal monologue, and it’s only then you realize you’ve been ruminating on the very same topic you’ve been wishing to avoid tonight. Past mistakes and lost chances.

Still your head is running, making it hard to figure out what people are saying- there’s a voice at the back telling you to go mend things with him, one you try very hard to ignore. Stretching your neck and standing on tippy toes, you look for him and find him standing on the other side of the room, of course. His huge form blocks the staircase, where both Mina and Kirishima are seated and talking animatedly. 

“Hm. I´ll be right back.”

Pushing through the bodies you manage to reach where he stands, taking a deep breath before poking his shoulder. You feel like a little kid, just like back then when you were fifteen with a massive crush on that demon boy two years older than you. Blonde spiky hair, black nails and dark eyeliner, a toothy grin that made your heart beat rapidly (everyone’s did, but mostly out of fear). That time Hatsume found out about your little boy crush and tried to set you up, only to get rejected in front of the whole school. (he wasn’t interested in dating; he didn’t do girly stuff- and you probably wouldn't’ want him if you knew just how much he had in common with you)

Katsuki turns around with a scowl, facade fading as soon as he recognizes your face, but building his walls back up once he remembers your status. 

“What?” He means to hurt, scare you away, but you’ve fought enough times with him to know what really goes on in his head. 

“We shouldn’t fight over stupid things, we’re here to have a nice evening just like everyone else. Let’s not spoil it for everyone else, okay?” You’re sure it’s pretty clear that you don’t want to argue. All he hears is you making fun of him. 

But Kirishima's eyes are on him, as well as Mina's. They've done well taming his temper and putting out the fire, he's not going to shit on their work.

So he just rolls his eyes and nods, doesn't even spare you a glance. You wait for him to burst, show his teeth and bite. But like before, Katsuki just shrugs, turning back around and giving you his back. 

It takes you a second to process his reaction, surely there's more to say. But that's all you get. "Oh- okay. Fine, I guess." Mina gives you a sympathetic smile. She's on his side, but she likes you. 

There are no sides. But there are. 

The silence is replaced by distant chattery, and you're pulled back to reality. It's dumb, you tell yourself, to wait for him to lose it. Mean. After all, this is better. Healthier. 

But it just doesn't feel like him. And it doesn't feel like you. A sudden urge to cry settles on your throat and you have to excuse yourself back to where your friends are. The weird interaction plays in your head on repeat, an inescapable loop of shameless self-boycotting. You’re young again, and he’s too- which means he’s not nice, and he doesn’t like you.

-

Dinner is over and most guests have already left, except for Shouto’s close friends and family. Some of you have decided to stay and help him tidy up, which translates to: Bakugou, Momo, Kirishima and you will be doing the dishes, vacuuming the floors and packing all the leftovers in different containers- while Mina, Kaminari, Sero and Shouto play Mario Kart in the living room. Ochako and Tsuyu keep you company in the kitchen, watching you load the dishwasher. Momo comes and goes, taking stuff from one room to another and bringing you new dirty bowls every now and then. At some point Bakugou shows up with glasses piled up on each hand, placing them on the sink and looking down at the space left on the machine. You open your mouth to comment on the Todoroki’s new acquisition. Fuyumi was the one who took the initiative after inviting her friends over for a nice vacation, only to find months old dishes with fluffy mold on them covering the counter. Shouto’s doing, of course. But when you turn around to laugh at his outraged expression you realize he’s gone. Ochako and Tsuyu stare at you, and before you can stop them, they go on listing different ways to make him suffer. 

“It’s fine, what I said earlier must have bothered him. The whole hero thing. And we haven’t talked in months so it’s not as easy as to simply fall back into friendly territory." Bakugou wouldn't want that, to be just friends, though the just in that affirmation has always made your heart ache. Why isn't it enough? "It was dumb I shouldn’t have expected him to just laugh and be fine with it.” You don’t want to justify his behavior, especially when it’s your friends on the hearing end. They already hate his guts, so no matter how hard you try to explain this is the result of both your mistakes, they’ll still want his head on a stick. “He’s not even mad, really. We’re both just hurt, and pretending nothing happened is not gonna make it all better.”

Tsuyu seems to actually be listening, maybe even considering your point. But Ochako, oh dear lord. You’d rather not know what she thinks. 

Midnight comes around and Momo takes out the heavy artillery. 

“Who wants chamomile? This one has cinnamon too and I bet it’ll go good with honey. So, Bakugou? This sounds like you.” 

You take strawberry tea with a dash of milk, her expensive herbs so comforting and soul cleansing. Maybe it’s a mind trick, how they come in pretty bags and are all neatly placed in a wooden box. So delicate. Convincing you they have the solution to all your problems.

Twenty minutes into this late-night snacking session, you realize the seating arrangements are quite similar to the ones you fell into last summer. You’re nestle on the couch between Kaminari and Kirishima, with Ochako by your feet (now with the addition of Tsuyu between her legs, resting her head on her chest). Shouto and Momo sit across from each other on the big, royal-like armchairs, while Sero, Bakugou and Mina sit on the floor (on the other side of the coffee table, far from Uraraka’s threatening stare). The only ones missing are Jirou and Izuku, who is actually Deku tonight. Your mind travels down that road again. Japan’s number ten hero, up in the charts with the big fish. Shouto came in seventeenth place this week, and Momo is two numbers up. Still, they’re not half as known as Deku, the rumored to be new symbol of piece- with his blinding smile and shiny future ahead. Your eyes find Shouto’s, and he looks fine. It’s not the first time it happens, Izuku hasn’t been here for his past two birthdays and keeps on missing out on important dates. But your friend isn’t much a quality time person, leaning onto words of affirmation and physical touch kinda lover. Still, it must be hard, you think. 

Bakugou’s placement is unknown to you, has been ever since he moved abroad. Why would you check? It doesn’t affect you anymore. 

“So… I heard Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is doing well out there with the foreigners.” Kaminari’s teasing tone disrupts your peace, as usual. He always picks on him for his high school hero name, though he changed it to just Dynamight a few years back. You were the only other human who was able to mention it and leave to tell the tale.

Bakugou growls.

“Did you break any laws yet? Maybe the governor’s building?” Another reference to his early hero days, when he was reckless and unprofessional. His baby face appeared on the news every week, and you would take a pic of his scowl live on tv! to print it out and add it to your Dynamight cork board. Days without incidents: 5 0.

“It’s actually going pretty well. I mean, they don't exactly love me out there, but I don't really like them either, so.” You expect him to stop there, though it’s his friends asking he’s never one to open up much. “I'm sort of friends with this one hero, has a cool quirk similar to Eiji’s so we can train without worrying much about his face blowing off." There’s a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

And you remember. This guy must be the one you know as Kento, big buff dude with scales for skin. “Oh! The guy with the orange cat, right?” You’re suddenly excited. Katsuki had tried many times to befriend him, but every day he’d call you to tell you about a new embarrassing exchange.

“I swear every time I gather courage to speak to him someone else comes barging in! And I don’t want to text him, I see him every day and we’re gym buddies. I have plenty of chances to ask him to hang out.” 

“You sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, ‘Ki.” You giggle. 

“Shut up.” You can hear him sigh over the phone, he’s probably running his hands down his face, skin turning red. “He has an orange cat, and he bought him a Dynamight hat to piss me off. How doesn’t that make us friends already? Yet he never asks me out to lunch, or texts me to go train together, it’s all just coincidence!” 

He had been so upset back then, rummaging his head for the perfect plan to befriend this man. And he had finally done it. 

Without looking your way, Katsuki answers and awkward “Uh yeah, anyway so-” and keeps on talking about his new friend. It throws you off a bit, smile fading quickly as your hands search for your phone. You open three different apps, pretending nothing happened and trying to gain back the confidence he stripped from you. He’s hurt, you repeat in your head, mostly to make yourself feel better.

“-and I finally got the hang of that last move, I just gotta be fast enough to activate my quirk a second before throwing the punch.”

“Oh! I saw it on a video, I think. You were fighting some kind of hybrid villain, right?” He had told you about that move, too. Maybe you didn’t keep track of his name, escalating the charts, but you did check his city’s online newspaper every few weeks. 

All he gives you is a quick glance and a mhm. And that’s all you need really. Okay, got it. 

You shuffle in your seat, uncomfortable. Nose scrunched up, fake smile wavering as you fight to keep the tears inside. You bury your face on your screen once again, ending up in the notes app like a fucking loser. There’s an acid, burning sensation at the top of your stomach, building its way up your esophagus. He looks so cool, so big and happy talking about his new life and the new, super awesome people in it. He’s happy, but something about his happiness feels bitter to you, rotten. You’re not sure how much of it is true, but you can’t condemn him to a miserable life just because of who he is. He’s not crying over the phone, not even mentioning the orange cat or the old lady from the ice cream shop down his street. You hate to think he’s leaving all the little details out of the story because you might interrupt him again, disturbing his ideal life. And you can’t even blame him, it was you who cut him off in the first place, so he has every right to put some distance between you two. Maybe he has changed. Maybe this time he is fine. And happy. Without you. 

And then you just can’t take it anymore, how he smiles that wide grin, a loud laugh erupting from the depths of his throat and filling the room with his oh so characteristic pride. 

Ochako shares a glance with Shouto as they notice you getting up and heading to the bathroom. She moves to follow you, but her friend stops her, shaking his head- leave her alone. He’ll check up on you if needed. 

Minutes go by and there’s still no sign of you. Shouto gets up and slithers his way out of the room, unseen. Ochako’s face starts to burn, anger taking over her as she’s forced to watch your friends gawk at Bakugou’s stupid fight with a oh so dangerous! villain. Fucking idiot. 

-

After ten minutes inside the bathroom, you begin to panic. The tears won’t stop coming, and what was supposed to be a quick emotional dump has turned into an embarrassing, sad, full-on breakdown. Your bottom lip quivers and you’re very close to letting an audible cry out. Just then, the door slides open, revealing a stone faced Shouto. Then his mouth twists in an upward, displeasured mock. He doesn’t like seeing you cry, especially when it’s over his very stupid friend. Without emitting a word, he stands in front of you, towering over your body as you sit on the lidded toilet with your elbows resting on your knees. 

“I’m fine.” You lie.

Sniff.

“I can see that.” His monotone voice holds a unique humor only meant for someone who truly understands him. 

It stirs the beginning of a laugh, but you’re too busy licking at the stray tears reaching your lips. Still, you think of him fondly. Little, emotionally constipated fifteen-year-old Shouto would have turned around and left you to drown in your sorrow. Yet here he is, all grown up and brave enough to face someone else’s pain without panicking. 

“You should tell me what’s wrong, then I’ll see what I can do.” Sweet, caring Shouto.

Using your left hand to wipe your face, you take a second to respond, turning your body to the side to grab some toilet paper.

“It’s okay Shouto, you can’t help with this.” Your makeup is probably ruined, mascara running down your face and making you look like a clown. You’re in full costume now!

“I can hug you.” 

He’s not the best with words, would rather hear them than say them out loud. But that’s exactly why he’s good when needed, taking his time choosing the perfect set of consonants and vowels. Your friend is right, he can hug you. He doesn’t like it very much, but he will do it for you (because he can and it will make you feel better, without hurting him in any way, only making him slightly uncomfortable). And maybe you feel too brave, overestimating your emotional strength and giving in. But when his arms wrap around your back and pull you in, one hand resting at the back of your neck and stroking your hair, you break down again. 

You can feel his body tense as you snap, holding him tightly and pressing your face against his lower belly. 

“I-It’s just- He’s so-” You say between hiccups. “It hurts Sho, a-and he’s so pretty a-and I- just” 

He doesn’t interrupt you, doesn’t lie and tell you it’s okay, that you’ll get over him because he’s a dick and you’re perfect. That you deserve much better, he’ll come back running in a week! He doesn’t say any of that, because he doesn’t believe it. And maybe that hurts even more, truly realizing he won’t come back even though you do need him. Even if he does need you as well. 

“He’s so happy! A-nd I want- I want him to be happy! But he just- he won’t even loo-look at me!” You let go to grab a handful of toilet paper and blow your nose. Shouto is too nice to have your boogers all over his perfect dress shirt. “I just want to at least- hic - be his friend! That’s all i ask! T-to have a nice c-chat, I can tell him about my life- I work with hi-is parents! His mom loves me!” It doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying, but he can picture an image of what you’re getting at. “Four years, we dated for four years!” More boogers. “A-and now he won’t say hi! No hello, how are you!” You hold your head in your hands, squishing your cheeks in a lame attempt to get your shit together. But your eyes are blurry, and your nose is red. “A-nd it’s all my-y fault” It comes out mixed with a sob, it’s ugly and makes Shouto want to cry too.

He doesn’t take sides, because Bakugou is his friend too. But you’ve been here longer, you know him better and he himself is also in love with an idiot. Shouto knows what it is like to trust someone with your heart and decide they’ll be in charge of it, forever. If Izuku ever- If he even thought of leaving him, of saying goodbye and never talk to him again. He has to take a deep breath and clear his head, that is not happening and it’s not smart of him to join you in this delusion. You need him. Even if it means he’ll have to kick some blonde ass.

-

“Here, take these to the kitchen please.” Momo hands him a tray with all the used cups, including your half empty one. 

You had left a while ago, with Todoroki (of all people) trailing behind. Don’t do this to yourself. Bakugou agreed to come tonight because it was an invitation from his friend, a very busy one he hadn’t seen in over a year. Your presence wasn’t an obstacle big enough to ruin his night. But as he places the metal tray on top of the kitchen counter his mind travels back to your kicked puppy face, legs curled up against your chest and shiny eyes covered in something unbearably sad. He had been rude. He could see it in Mina's not so subtle, deep sighs and Ochako’s knuckle cracking. He’s been behaving like that all evening, pushing you away and ignoring you for the sake of his own well-being. There was a time in high school, after the war and just before he and Deku became friends again, when he had behaved similarly. He felt guilty, so horribly guilty, that he decided to push him away- to focus on bettering himself, he had said. But everyone knew he just couldn’t face the nerd’s forgiving smile and shiny eyes, ready to talk to him, ready to be friends again. And you had done the same, not so forgiving and not so shiny, but ready to forget. The very one thing he could never do.

On his way back to the living room, he decides to take a detour, a wrong turn that leads him to the bathroom you had run to half an hour ago. Shouto is in there with you. His steps grow quicker, cursing the rich for such large, useless corridors, and his mind as well, for making him doubt his friend’s loyalty. He’s in love with shitty Deku, he’s gay. But you’re you, perfect and lovable. And Bakugou is an irrational, jealous man.

When he (finally) reaches your location, his hands in fists by his sides, it takes him an embarrassing amount of strength to knock on the door. He only takes notice of your crying once it comes to a halt- forced, as if you’re trying to patch up a dam with hello kitty stickers.

The door slides open and Todoroki’s tall frame hides you from his prying eyes.

And maybe it’s his crazy mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he looks mad, straightening his stand to seem bigger- just like he had done during dinner.

“Bakugou.” He acknowledges his presence with a sour tone (he’s ready to punch him in the teeth, but Bakugou doesn’t know it.)

“Let me talk to her.” Without waiting for an answer, he moves to push past his slender body, only to be met with an unmoving brick wall, iron grip on the door separating him from you. 

“She doesn’t want to see you right now. Talk later or tell me what you wanna say, I promise I’ll give the message once she feels better.” Because she trusts you, not me? Because you stayed and I left? He doesn’t really say (or think) any of that, and Bakugou knows it.

Still- “Todoroki, fucking move.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows Todoroki and he recognizes that stare. He’s being serious. “Give me ten minutes, go help the others and I’ll be right back.”

The lightness in his words make Shouto’s stomach twist. As if ten minutes were enough to fix the damage he’s done. 

“Bakugou, I'm not gonna leave her. She’s my friend!” As if he’d let him hurt you again.

“She’s my friend too!” He's mad but his eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall. For a second Shouto considers it, giving him one last chance.

But it’s not his decision to make, and he’s already promised he’ll keep you safe. “It doesn’t look like it.” Todoroki mumbles under his breath as he turns around and reaches for the door.

Bakugou doesn’t move to stop him, just watches him go back into the bathroom and close the door right on his face.

-

The next time you see him he's sitting on the sidewalk, right across from your apartment entrance. Bakugou has his fingers locked behind his neck, eyes facing the pavement and big suitcase by his side. You consider turning around and pretend you never saw him, playing dumb like you always do and fleeting. He's scary when he's not mad, his heart open and so vulnerable it burns.

But you know it's not fair, it's not easy to get him this way. So you stay, clearing your throat to get his attention and waiting for the wave to crash into you.

"Hey, sorry to show up like this." Red eyes scan your face for any sign of rejection, any reason for him to stop.

You nibble on your lip, ripping apart the surface layer of dried skin.

Hm.

"I-I wanted to say sorry, for what happened during Christmas." He swallows. "It- I was mean, thought I could see you and be fine but, I guess I'm still a bit of a bitch."

Bakugou rarely says sorry, you're always temped to accept his apologies when they happen.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Though you do want him to, worry about it. About you. You want him to try, but you can't ask it of him.

"No, it's not. I made you cry, and now Shouto is mad at me- as he should be, honestly, I acted like such a dick-" A sigh interrupts his rant, shaky and genuine.

You stay silent, both staring at the ground and waiting for the other to deliver the final punch. It's funny, how you always seem to end up stuck in the same situation, over and over again. Knowing you have to let go of each other, but not finding the strength to do so.

"You're leaving today?" You jut out your lips and point at his suitcase. Still the same you, with the same traits. Bakugou wants to smile, eyes fixed on your face, the familiar sight now a sting in his guts. How could he hate you?

"Yeah, I'm a bit late actually but- they can wait."

Hm.

People can always wait when it comes to Bakugou Katsuki. If he asked, you'd do it too.

"Well, I just- guess that's it." Of course it is.

Too close to be friends.

Too hurt to be lovers.

"Have a safe flight."

Back to strangers again.

5.(bittersweet)

The charity event takes place in the Todoroki mansion, soon to be turned into a museum filled with Endeavor’s accomplishments. You’re sure Shouto is out there somewhere, maybe standing by the koi ponds and staring off into the water, counting the minutes for it all to be over. So you don’t bother looking for him, it’s to no use trying to snap him out of his trance when he’s like this. 

Though you’re no hero, it’s not uncommon for support engineers to be invited alongside them- especially when you’re friends with the ones up in the charts. The media has gotten used to your face by now, spreading dating rumors here and there that you never address and if you’re lucky promoting your work (how cool they are, how hot the heroes look).

You spot his navy blue suit next to Hawks, his loud laugh impossible to miss. There’s at least four young heroes surrounding them, and it’s surprising to see Bakugou isn’t frowning or shooing them away with a growl. Then you remember that’s not Bakugou, it’s Dynamight. The hero has climbed the charts along with his friends after coming back home, he got a PR team and finally started working on his image. You see his face on plastic cups and children’s lunch boxes, makeshift costumes of his own hero suit crowding the streets every time he wins a fight against a big villain. Dynamight didn’t do well outside of Japan, coming back home after two years, and still isn’t very welcomed out there. But in here? He’s a God. Talks to the press however he pleases but has his own favorite reporters, the ones he trusts will tell the story right- the same ones that get him to do a photoshoot or play a question game with his fans, silly stuff you never thought you’d see him doing. His image has been humanized, brought down to earth for mortals to touch and admire from up close. In your opinion, he’s too close. Too bright at first. You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to it, because what else could you do? Still it’s pathetic, how your stomach twists everytime his face shows up in the big billboard right in front of your balcony, a few buildings away. He doesn’t smile, but he grins, proudly. It’s not quite the same smile you knew, but it’s close enough to hurt. 

He’s single, no kids, no wife. You try not to think about it because it makes you happy, and it shouldn’t make you happy. It doesn’t mean anything. There have been rumors about him and other heroes, but Shouto has always been quick to point out their falsehood- though you never ask him, it’s always him who brings up the subject. Dynamight and Shouto are seen together pretty often, wearing merch of each other and fighting for the fourth place, making sure to catch the awfulest villains they can find and showing off while they’re at it. Neither of them are known for their charisma, unlike Deku who has won the hearts of every civilian in Japan, but they try. 

Still, Shouto and Katsuki are not that close, opting for keeping their private lives separated and secluding to their friend groups. But they do see each other from time to time, at birthday parties and weddings- their hero skins long forgotten. You know they’d be closer if it weren’t for you, and it fills you with guilt every time you see them together. It’s crystal clear how much of Katsuki has stuck to Shouto, you see it in his humor, in his grin, and there’d be more if you hadn’t messed with each other’s hearts. 

And you. You’re closer to Katsuki than your friend is, or will ever be.

After years of working for his parents you’ve accepted his luring presence in the workshop, which then turned to his shadow walking down the office floors halls. You’ve made sure to figure out a way to avoid him, feigning innocence when you enter Mitsuki’s office- I brought you coffee! How is the winter collection going? -, eyes roaming her calendar in search of his name. She knows, and you know because after the third time she started highlighting his visits in orange (for office visits) and green (suit try ons). During orange days you go down to the workshop, taking the opportunity to teach your youngest engineers a trick or two, pretending you’re actually there for them and not for the sake of your teary eyes. Green days are even easier, you’re a big figure in the Bakugou’s industry so there’s no need for you to get your hands dirty with grease, staying within the confines of your private office and checking out projects that need your approval to get started. Dynamight’s suit is one you have memorized by now, always coming in with a detail to fix or a weapon to improve, so you make sure to get the documents sent directly to you- if they were to fall on someone else’s hands they could do it wrong, requiring your assistance later on during the fitting process and that’s an interaction you can’t afford to have. 

Bakugou knows it’s you who patches him up (or his suit, but he likes to think he’s one with it). Still he always asks who’s responsible for the new design, whose idea it was to improve the safety measures he had foregone last time. And the answer is always the same. In some way he feels cared for, it’s a bitter sensation because it’s directly linked up to you. Yet he can’t bring himself to ask for a different person. You may have broken his heart, losing his trust just like he did with yours, but he knows you won’t do the same to Dynamight- you rarely make mistakes, and you certainly won’t make the same mistake twice. Sometimes he finds himself wishing you did. He stands still as your freshman fastens the grenades at his wrists, hopefully looking out the workshop window that lets the light of the hall spill in, waiting to see your face. It never happens, he knows you hide in your office whenever he enters the building, and run down to the machines when he calls for a meeting with his team. That last one makes him lose his marbles. He’s had more than enough arguments with his parents, who let you do as you please and take cover under their wings. You haven’t shown up to a single one of those meetings, though you should be there as his designated engineer. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of it, of his team. 

“Katsuki, has she ever messed up your suit? Huh? No, she hasn’t, so quit your whining and let our colleague do her work. It’s not her fault she’s busy! If she ever has time for your meetings she will be there.” 

His mom is your number one defender, and he can’t comprehend why. Maybe she’s still mad at him for leaving all those years back (or maybe she’s found in you what she wasn’t allowed to love in him). It’s a dangerous thought, one that doesn’t deserve the time and effort to be dissected and put up for study. He knows where it’s rooted and that’s enough. 

Mitsuki never mentions your name, only refers to you as their “colleage” and it drives him insane. But he knows it’s already a lost fight, not worth getting his hands dirty for. 

Katsuki hates any sort of event. It doesn’t matter if it’s for charity, or if it’ll improve his image- this is not what he signed up for, he should be out there fighting crime. He can feel his manager’s eyes digging into his back, analazying his stand and the tone of his voice as he interacts with the rookies. There’s flashes going off in the distance and- how the hell is Hawks so good at this? 

You’re watching too, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to restrain himself from going over and talk to you. It’s been like this for years now, his chest flooding with the urge to say all those things he didn’t say back then and overlapping with what he actually wants to say to you right now. How pretty you look, how much he liked the suit’s latest upgrade. Katsuki has questions that die half way up his throat, choking him to exhaustion. How have you been? Do you still hate him? Are you seeing anyone? Are your parents okay?

His thorax expands and keeps the air inside for a few seconds, slowly exhaling. Katsuki can see you from the corner of his eye, chatting with a waitress, probably waiting for Shouto to come out of his sulk room. His friend hates these events even more than he himself does, but he can’t find pity for Shouto when you’re left all alone in a crowded space.

Dynamite excuses himself and moves out of the group of people circling him, sending Hawks a knowing look- I need a minute. The hybrid is quick to understand, eyes flying to your form and back to Bakugou, eyebrows rising in warning, teasingly. 

The bulky hero makes his way towards you, but you tell yourself he’s going somewhere else. Katsuki wouldn’t dare feed the rumors, he wouldn’t-

Before you can finish that thought, the host gets up on stage and greets the guests. Pro Hero Dynamight stops in his tracks, just a few steps from you. The soury feeling makes him snort, always so close but never quite enough. 

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” A Present Mic knock off screams into the microphone and half the crowd cover their ears. “As you all know, this is a very special day, for today we’re putting down our weapons and raising our wallets in collaboration to Tokio’s Children’s Hospital!” 

Some laugh, some don’t. Bakugou shifts in place, right hand holding a glass of champagne his lips haven’t touched all night. Meanwhile, you’re downing the golden liquid like it’s water, hands clutched over a purse he guesses is brand new, and probably empty (save for your phone). These things always get your nerves on edge, taking care of who you are seen interacting with- mostly criticizing hero suits from your seat amongst your coworkers. But today you’re alone, the only other designers present are part of the rival team and it wouldn’t be good for the Bakugou’s to have their head engineer seen fraternizing with the enemy. 

And Bakugou himself would never approach you in any social situation, it’s a silent agreement between you two that’s been going on for ages. He doesn’t come close, and you stay put, each of you minding your own business. Still that doesn’t stop him from sending you emails meant for his team, because you are part of- 

Katsuki sighs, a heavy sigh. He’s getting tired of your limits, of you running away and avoiding any sort of confrontation involving him. He’s tired of sitting back and giving you space, would rather not see you ever again at all instead of catching glimpses of you around the office, down at the workshop, here at events and galas- with your pretty dresses, fresh face of make up, nervous fingers tapping on your thighs. 

Bakugou Katsuki would never come near you, because he can’t. But Dynamight, basically your boss, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

“He’s a bit of an idiot, don’t you think?” His voice is low, whispered, straddling you and sending you forwards, stumbling over your own steps. 

The heroes surrounding you, the few that stayed at the back ignoring the host’s silly jokes, turn to look at you and some even offer their steady hand. You mumble out a string of apologies, eyes down avoiding red ambers. Bakugou-Dynamight swallows, straightents his back and takes a step closer. He’s head to shoulder with you, strong jawline hovering over your form. 

“Why are you so jumpy?”

“Why are you talking to me?” He scoffs at your answer, moody stare making it’s way to his face. 

“Because you’re Dynamight’s support engineer, and he has to talk to you about his suit.” The third person speech makes him cringe, the glass in hand suddenly too inviting.

“Well, Mr. Dynamite can send me an email once he gets home.” You greet your teeth, scowling him for his trespassing.

Once you''ve regained your balance, hands going over your dress to smooth out ny wrinkle, you take a minute to look up at him.

“Bakugou I thought we were on the same page here.”

He rolls his eyes at that, though it’s the first time he’s heard you call for him in so long, it doesn’t sound right. Because his father is a Bakugou, and his mother is too. You have to pronounce that word everytime someone asks you who you work for, what’s the name of the company. It no longer holds the same meaning, you’re not referring to him. 

“Fuck off, you know we’ve never been on the same page.” He’s ruining it, his chance at mending things. Though he’s not so sure that’s what he wanted in the first place. For once in his life he has no plan.

“You’re the one who came up to me, you fuck off!”

“That’s not- I just wanted to talk, like normal people. Can’t we do that?” He’s greeting his teeth too, looking ahead and jaw clenching. 

It’s surprising, seeing him making the first move, to be him the one asking to talk. “So what, you want to be friends now?”

“Fuck no.” It’s an accident, he doesn’t mean to spit it out like that, to refuse your hand like it’s burning hot. But it’s the truth, he can’t do it, not with you.

You’re silent, staring as his mask falls off. For someone used to facing villains all day he sure as hell isn’t as brave as he thinks he is. 

“Should’ve known, you still don’t have the balls to do it.” 

Again you’re young and stupid, waiting for him to start a fight you can win. 

“I thought that was a given.” Dynamight turns to look at you in all his handsome glory, blonde locks cut short and emerald green studs decorating his earlobes. And then his words sink down. 

Your frowns break at the same time, anger turning into giggles you try to fight back. 

“Can’t believe you’re doing trans jokes now.” It’s not a critic, it’s impressive how much he’s grown and how much confidence he’s gained over time. 

“Yeah, well. The fans love it, and I gotta admit it feels good.” You can tell. 

Pro Hero Dynamight didn’t really come out, at least not like other heroes do. One day he simply appeared on tv, sitting on Red Riot’s shoulders as they marched alongside their friends during pride, a pink, blue and white flag tied to his neck. His PR team jumped for his head, begging him to go out on interviews and explain what that was all about. The Bakugou’s building entrance had been flooded with reporters for days, waiting for the hero to show up to a suit try on or trying to catch him leaving. But he had paid them no mind, never really addressing the “issue”. Some were disappointed, because their favorite hero wasn’t speaking up and using his voice to reach millions of people and fight against transphobes, threatening to cancel him on social media and showing up in his manager’s nightmares. Others understood.

It took a whole year for it all to die down, and one more for the public to stop referring to him as the trans hero, going back to his actual hero name. You’d wanted to reach out to him back then, but Katsuki had his friends and you had your own problems.

Now seeing where he is, how far he’s come, it fills you up with pride. A bit of an uncomfortable feeling, somewhat forbidden but so familiar. 

“That’s-that’s great, I’m happy for you.” 

It comes out shaky, your voice betraying you. 

Dynamight hums, licking his lips and pursing them together. Thinking. 

“Are you- How are you doing? I mean, you seem fine but- I don’t know.” He’s cute when he gets awkward, even cuter if he stutters (but that rarely happens).

The crowd begins to move away from the stage, dissipating through the room and falling back into pleasant chatter. 

“Yes- Yes I’m fine, I’m good.”

“Good, good.” 

You stare at him and he stares back, more questions burning at the tip of your tongue. Do you miss me? Can we still be friends? But you already know the answer, and it’s clear things won’t work out. 

“I’m leaving for the U.S next week.” You know, Mitsuki won’t stop crying about it. “Just for a month but, yeah…” 

You hum and nod, and look down at your hands holding on to your stupid purse. No it wouldn’t work out. 

Kissed By Surprise

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Tsundere Bakugo / Swearing / Making Out

Sorry for the grammatical mistakes ! Don’t take it seriously it’s just something I had on my head today, I just had to try it! 😂😂

•Like Always you were arguing, there wasn’t a single day you and Bakugo couldn’t keep it shut.

🍑: Come on a little virgin like you ? I’m sure you couldn’t even talk properly to

💥: Who the FUCK YOU THINK YOU TALKING TO? WHO’S THE VIRGIN HERE ??

🍑: Huuu you ? Admit it, it’s okay I'm sure a lot of people like you never had a s/o before.

💥 : WHAT DO YOU MEAN PEOPLE LIKE ME ??

🍑: you know...virgin...👀

💥: I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR ASS SO HARD YOU WOULDNT BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE YOURSELF IN A MIRROR !

🍑: I mean you didn’t deny it tho..🤷🏾‍♀️

🛑: come on guys calm down, it was just a little game of truth or dare.

🍑: Yeah you right Kiri... it’s okay….you hear that Bakugo ? It’s okay to never have kissed at your age. You got a big ass mouth but nothing in your pant ( A/n: Boy you could be 55 and never had kissed it’s totally fine, it's just for the story ! 👌🏾✨).

💥: 👁👄👁

🛑: 👀

👽: 👀👀

⚡️📦: 👀👀👀

🛑: guys…

💥: LET ME SHOW YOU IF I HAVE NOTHING IN MY PANT YOU SCUMBAG!!!!

•Boy, never someone had grabbed your neck that hard.

•I think Bakugo’s lips are kinda smooth because he wouldn’t say it but I’m sure he does a lot of mask and put shit tons of lipstick.

•This guys don’t just put his mouth on top of yours, he COMPLETELY MAKE OUT WITH YOU IN FRONT OF THE OTHER WTH?? HE JUST DON'T CARE ?

• You? 👀 You are no better, it’s not as if you rejected him either 😏😏

🛑 : arrrrhm I-I think we should go guys.

👽: What now?? It just became interesting.

📦: Yeah and they finally stopped yelling.

⚡️: And I Mean...that’s kinda hot tho😌

🛑: GUYS LET THEM HAVE THEIR PRIVACY GEEZ!

•I think Kirishima’s face never grew hotter than that day.

Dirty Thoughts:

Bakugo x Reader ( Gender Neutral)

1412 Words

Author words : It’s my first time writting and English is not my mother tongue so please be indulgent with me ! If you have any suggestions on how I could do a better work I’ll gladly take them ! Ho another thing "🍑" is us the reader with no specific gender and I think that’s all, enjoy bye bye !

He really thought he was discrete about it. Checking you out while you were talking with your friend group.

Starting with your legs, your thighs then he would say it but your ass too,

Never initiating eye contact with you he would advert his eyes every time you start to talk to him, only glaring at you when you tried to make jokes. He likes you heck he does but being the Katsuki we know him to be hell never tell anyone about that, not wanting to be considered a simp or anything stupid like that.

As usual while begging with the Bakusquad his eyes would advert to you and once again started checking you out without your knowledge of course but hey careful he is watching ? But respectfully of course, he is kinda a gentleman after all. Mama didn’t raise a bad boy.

🛑: “And then i- bakubro you are staring ” Kirishima started

⚡️: “Like always~ ” it was Denki turn

💥: “ The fuck I’m not ! Why would I ? ”

👽:”You kinda are, you know Bakugo if you find them that attractive why won’t you tell them? Do you want me to do it ? “ Now it was Mina who playfully asked knowing perfectly what the angry blond réponse would be.

💥: “I told you I fucking don’t check them out! Why would I go and talk with them? Fucking extra….”

📦: “Yeah….if you continue like that they would probably think you hate them or something.”

👽: “They actually does, we kinda are friends and they told me about how this mister over there was hating them.”

💥: “I’m not! ! “ Bakugo shouted a little bit louder that he ented, gaining the scared looks of his classmate, your being one of them.

🛑: “Chill bro ! That’s what it looks like ! You know they’ll never love you that way right? Be careful, they are pretty popular, I heard this Shinsou in 1B came often to talk to them, I think he will ask them out soon…”

💥: “What? That Shinsou kid? Who’s not even in 1A? Why the fuck would they go out with him? Having low standar like that tch”

⚡️: “I think he is pretty cool!”

👽: “And cute!”

💥: “If you don’t shut up right now I’ll blow your asses up !”

⚡️: “Oops looks like Aizawa sense I just came, time for torture to start, try to stay concentrated baku~ku~gooooo”

💥: “The fuck do you mean?”

🛑👽⚡️📦: “Haha”

😪: For this assignment you’ll be working by pairs. I already made the groups you can’t change, the project is due in one week until then you will not have any other homework so put your all into it, you and your partner will practically live together from now on on for a week, that’s all class dismiss

Of course the pairs were wrote on the board and of course who do you think bakugo had been paired with ?

Mhh...hey..bakugo..San…

Why the fuck are you talking to me like I’m some fucking old man? Two bad words in the same sentence?

Classy bakugo classy

I’m sorry I ...u…

wait are you stuttering ? Okay he wouldn’t admit it but that? That is so freaking cute.

He could die right on the spot, why do you look like that? All uhhg he couldn’t quite point it but that is something that made him stares at with longer than he intended.

🍑: “Bakugo go San...bakugo San?”

💥: “What”

🍑: “You are..staring…”

💥: “I’m not ! And stop calling me that !”

🍑: “Yessir !”

💥: “Hun?”

🍑: “Sorry that was a joke… so hull for the project it’s friday today so the dorms are closed I would like to go in my house but my parents are inviting a lot a family this weekend so we pourrait pas concentrate sorry BUT we can go to the library if you want maybe ?”

💥: “No.”

🍑: “Hun? Why not ?”

💥: “To much people, all the extras are gonna be there, give me your phone

S-sure!

Here, I texted you my address, tomorrow ten don’t be late !”

🍑: “Yes! See you tomorrow… and he is gone … well ! At least he didn’t kill me”.

This night let’s say that Bakugo didn’t really sleep, try to understand him please, a young boy in this age and shape ? You? How crush was coming tomorrow and you’ll be staying in is house, in his room where his bed was? He watched enough adult movies to know what could happen and let’s say that the thought of you wearing only…well nothing was enough for him to lose all track of sleep.

While our angry boy was fighting his dirty thought you too couldn’t sleep but not for the same reasons. While he was excited you were scared I mean he didn’t like you right? He could scream at you, worst even, could he punch you?? You really hope not. And that’s how you two spent your first weekend Night, basically thinking about each other.

10.00 that’s exactly the hour you rang at Katsuki houses door.

🍑: “Hello Madame Bakugo I’m listener nice to meet you !”

👩‍🦳💥: “How you must be Katsuki’s classmate enter please ! Waaa you really are cute aren’t you ?”

🍑: “N-no I’m really not but thanks you, you too are really pretty mam!”

💥: “Oi! At least you are not late, come here let’s get to my room.”

🍑: “Sure! See you mam!”

👩‍🦳💥: “I’ll go get you some snacks !”

🍑: “Thank you very much !”

You two walked together to his room, installed yourselves and started to work.

After a few hours of hard work :

🍑” Bakugo… Bakugo…….BAKUGO!”

💥:“What??”

🍑: “I finished, and you are staring...again…”

💥: “I already told you I’m not, let me see!”

🍑: “ Soooo, is it good enough ?”

💥: “Not too bad, well that concludes today’s work.”

🍑“Yeah! ... I’m so tired …”

💥: “…. Lay down…”

🍑: “ What did you say? 👁👄👁”

💥: “I said lay down if you want... I’ll get you to the train’s station after.”

🍑: “On the floor??? 👀👀”

💥: “On the bed ! You are stupid aren’t you ??”

🍑: “W-w-w-what ? No I cannot I- ?!”

💥: “I will not touch you WTF! You said you were tired didn’t you??”

🍑: “... I did...ok but...are you going to lay with me…?”

💥: “I’m tired too ! I made almost all the work!”

🍑: “No you didn’t !”

You then proceed to lay on the bed with Katsuki.

Not gonna lie, your heart was kinda racing at the moment, Katsuki’s one probably too, but he wouldn’t ever admit it !

Fuck why are you facing him?? He tough you will look at the wall or somewhere else that way he could have spied on you in all discretion.

🍑: “Bakugo..?”

💥: “Yeah?”

🍑: “Do you hate me?”

💥: “….no.”

🍑: “Then why ...why you look at me like that? Everyday at school you always look at me, even when you think I can’t see you…”

💥: “...I wasn’t really discreet about it hun…”

🍑: “No haha”

💥: “You pretty”

🍑: “What??”

💥: “You heard me now go to sleep!”

🍑: “I cannot,not after that wtf bakugo ??”

💥: “Shhht I’m tired !”

🍑: “But ?”

💥: “Shhht…. Oi..”

🍑: “I thought I should sleep?”

💥: “Fuck it! Can I...touch you ?”

🍑: “Where??”

💥: “Your face…”

🍑: “Weird…”

💥: “Yes or no dumbass?”

🍑: “Haha go for it ! But...be nice please…”

💥: “Yeah...close your eyes.”

You then Proceed to do it slowly, you shut your eyes waiting for anything from bakugo. You feel him shift and then something on your cheek, his hand you suppose. After a little while something softer again were on your lips. He was kiss’ing you and that wasn’t a dream, he really was kissing you holy fuck !

🍑: “Katsuki…”

💥: “Fuck, don’t ever call me Bakugo again go it ?”

🍑: “Yeah…”

💥: “Promised ?”

🍑: “Promise.”

💥: “Good, now let’s get the fuck to sleep!”

🍑: “Haha yeah sure, did you set up the alarm ?”

💥: “Of course! Who you take Me for ?”

That’s weird, today Katsuki was soft, the complet opposition of how he is at school. Maybe he was in a good mood because you worked well today or maybe that was just for you. Anyway Too much question too little answer but all you wanted right now was to stay in his arms and freaking sleep!

If you want the audio version of it here’s the link to my YouTube Chanel for a more immersive experience : Bakugo has dirty thoughts about you | BNHA ASMR| Bakugo x Listener https://youtu.be/h5lu-3bNrks

ᱬ⛧ teddy bear ~ k. bakugou

sum: the teddy bear i gave her. the teddy bear she gave me.

pairing: timeskip! katsuki bakugou x wife! reader

content: sfw. established relationship (married), 3-month-old child, mention of wanting another one, pet names, fluff for once.

a/n: just a little something to help me take a break from writing the next part of my villain. saw an image this is based on a few hours ago while procrastinating, and i just had to get this idea out there. our favourite explosion boy was the first one who came to mind when i wrote this. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1,020

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

“Kat!”. At the sound of your voice from up the stairs, the blonde raised from his seat on the couch and rolled his eyes. Whenever you called him, it was for a reason that you were too stubborn to come to him yourself. Despite that, he, time and time again, still came to you whenever you called. It was the hero in him after all.

Climbing the stairs, heavy footsteps sounded before they stopped at the door in front of them. The room he shared with you. He could hear you shuffling around inside alongside your cooing voice, a voice that was aimed at your three-month-old son. “We’re just waiting on your daddy, sweetie”.

The way you spoke and the small giggle you let out had Bakugou smiling softly. If he thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, the day you both became parents proved him wrong. Watching what you went through and the pain you endured just to bring your son into the world made him hold a love for you that was on another level.

Pushing the already ajar door open more, he stepped in and pushed it shut again with his foot. He took a moment to watch your movements, the way you peered down over the cot that was in the corner of the room. He didn’t need to see your face to know you were smiling. “You called, (n/n)?”.

At the sound of his voice, you stood upright and looked over your shoulder at him, smiling brightly. “Oh sweetie, look, it only took daddy a week to get here”. The cooing of the baby answered you back as you laughed, turning to face your husband a second after. Sure, the two of you had been married for a good few years now, but you still couldn’t believe you were married to the Katsuki Bakugou.

If someone ever told your younger self you’d be married to a pro hero, the hotheaded and loud boy you met back in school, you knew for a fact you would have laughed in their face and told them to go away. Yet here you were, married to that man with a son who was his mirror image. Even down to the ash-blonde hair and red eyes.

Stepping forward, you stopped in front of Bakugou and held your hand out for him to take. After a few moments, you felt his fingers intertwine with yours as you looked at him. Taking a moment, you hummed before looking up into those red eyes that stole your heart. “I’ve got something to show you, but you need to sit on the bed, okay?”.

Stepping backwards towards the bed, you pulled him with you until you stopped, his body lowering to sit on the edge as you leant down to kiss his lips, lingering for a few seconds before you pulled back. “So, don’t think I need to remind you of that huge teddy bear you got me when we first dated”.

Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the huge plush that sat on a chair in the corner next to the cot. It had been one of the first things Bakugou had won for you at a fair when you were first dating. Being the only one left, it had caught your eye, so of course, your then boyfriend had to win it for you. Especially when another extra, as he liked to call them, tried to win it for their partner. Needless to say, he was the victorious one.

“Of course, how could I forget that? You made me carry that thing around for the rest of the night”. Rolling his eyes, he smirked at the faux look of hurt on your face. “Here’s me thinking you enjoyed that, Kats”. Sticking your tongue out, you laughed when he flipped you off. “Just get to the point, love”.

Nodding your head, you made your way back over to the cot, stopping beside the bars as you cooed again at your son, who smiled when he saw you. “Do you remember what I said to you that night?”. Turning your head, you saw the confused look on his face as he raked his memories to remember what you said.

Rolling your eyes at the forgetfulness, you leaned over and scooped up your son into your arms, holding him upright. “I told you I’d get you your own teddy bear one day so…”. Turning around, you faced him as you smiled, watching the look on Bakugou’s face change. “…sorry it’s late, this one took a little time to prepare. Couldn’t have done that without you, darling”.

Casting your eyes down, the smile on your face softened as you placed a kiss on the top of your son’s head. The soft material of the teddy bear outfit he had on tickled your lips before you pulled away, walking to sit beside your husband. “It’s cheesy, I know, but he’s the cutest teddy bear that we’ve made together, Kat”.

Crossing your legs, you manoeuvred your baby in your arms before passing him over to his dad. The way the explosive hero took hold of the piece of you both made your heart swell. He may have appeared rough and angry to everyone around him, but behind closed doors, he was an entirely different person - you and your son had softened him.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you reached a hand over and took hold of a small hand in yours. Sitting in silence, you both watched as he fell asleep, content in the arms of his daddy, who protected him and you from the bad things out there.

“You know, (y/n), I’ll have to keep getting you big ass teddy bears. Especially if it means I get ones as cute as this in return”. Laughing softly, you pushed his head with the top of yours before you moved your head, looking up at him as you cupped his face in your free hand.

“I guess I can compromise, as long as the next cute teddy bear we make is a girl”.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

ᱬ⛧ teddy bear ~ k. bakugou

sum: the teddy bear i gave her. the teddy bear she gave me.

pairing: timeskip! katsuki bakugou x wife! reader

content: sfw. established relationship (married), 3-month-old child, mention of wanting another one, pet names, fluff for once.

a/n: just a little something to help me take a break from writing the next part of my villain. saw an image this is based on a few hours ago while procrastinating, and i just had to get this idea out there. our favourite explosion boy was the first one who came to mind when i wrote this. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1,020

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

“Kat!”. At the sound of your voice from up the stairs, the blonde raised from his seat on the couch and rolled his eyes. Whenever you called him, it was for a reason that you were too stubborn to come to him yourself. Despite that, he, time and time again, still came to you whenever you called. It was the hero in him after all.

Climbing the stairs, heavy footsteps sounded before they stopped at the door in front of them. The room he shared with you. He could hear you shuffling around inside alongside your cooing voice, a voice that was aimed at your three-month-old son. “We’re just waiting on your daddy, sweetie”.

The way you spoke and the small giggle you let out had Bakugou smiling softly. If he thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, the day you both became parents proved him wrong. Watching what you went through and the pain you endured just to bring your son into the world made him hold a love for you that was on another level.

Pushing the already ajar door open more, he stepped in and pushed it shut again with his foot. He took a moment to watch your movements, the way you peered down over the cot that was in the corner of the room. He didn’t need to see your face to know you were smiling. “You called, (n/n)?”.

At the sound of his voice, you stood upright and looked over your shoulder at him, smiling brightly. “Oh sweetie, look, it only took daddy a week to get here”. The cooing of the baby answered you back as you laughed, turning to face your husband a second after. Sure, the two of you had been married for a good few years now, but you still couldn’t believe you were married to the Katsuki Bakugou.

If someone ever told your younger self you’d be married to a pro hero, the hotheaded and loud boy you met back in school, you knew for a fact you would have laughed in their face and told them to go away. Yet here you were, married to that man with a son who was his mirror image. Even down to the ash-blonde hair and red eyes.

Stepping forward, you stopped in front of Bakugou and held your hand out for him to take. After a few moments, you felt his fingers intertwine with yours as you looked at him. Taking a moment, you hummed before looking up into those red eyes that stole your heart. “I’ve got something to show you, but you need to sit on the bed, okay?”.

Stepping backwards towards the bed, you pulled him with you until you stopped, his body lowering to sit on the edge as you leant down to kiss his lips, lingering for a few seconds before you pulled back. “So, don’t think I need to remind you of that huge teddy bear you got me when we first dated”.

Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the huge plush that sat on a chair in the corner next to the cot. It had been one of the first things Bakugou had won for you at a fair when you were first dating. Being the only one left, it had caught your eye, so of course, your then boyfriend had to win it for you. Especially when another extra, as he liked to call them, tried to win it for their partner. Needless to say, he was the victorious one.

“Of course, how could I forget that? You made me carry that thing around for the rest of the night”. Rolling his eyes, he smirked at the faux look of hurt on your face. “Here’s me thinking you enjoyed that, Kats”. Sticking your tongue out, you laughed when he flipped you off. “Just get to the point, love”.

Nodding your head, you made your way back over to the cot, stopping beside the bars as you cooed again at your son, who smiled when he saw you. “Do you remember what I said to you that night?”. Turning your head, you saw the confused look on his face as he raked his memories to remember what you said.

Rolling your eyes at the forgetfulness, you leaned over and scooped up your son into your arms, holding him upright. “I told you I’d get you your own teddy bear one day so…”. Turning around, you faced him as you smiled, watching the look on Bakugou’s face change. “…sorry it’s late, this one took a little time to prepare. Couldn’t have done that without you, darling”.

Casting your eyes down, the smile on your face softened as you placed a kiss on the top of your son’s head. The soft material of the teddy bear outfit he had on tickled your lips before you pulled away, walking to sit beside your husband. “It’s cheesy, I know, but he’s the cutest teddy bear that we’ve made together, Kat”.

Crossing your legs, you manoeuvred your baby in your arms before passing him over to his dad. The way the explosive hero took hold of the piece of you both made your heart swell. He may have appeared rough and angry to everyone around him, but behind closed doors, he was an entirely different person - you and your son had softened him.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you reached a hand over and took hold of a small hand in yours. Sitting in silence, you both watched as he fell asleep, content in the arms of his daddy, who protected him and you from the bad things out there.

“You know, (y/n), I’ll have to keep getting you big ass teddy bears. Especially if it means I get ones as cute as this in return”. Laughing softly, you pushed his head with the top of yours before you moved your head, looking up at him as you cupped his face in your free hand.

“I guess I can compromise, as long as the next cute teddy bear we make is a girl”.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: You want to start a business early revolving around your quirk but it leads you to find a rare case in your new school

Quirk: Red Strings. You are able to see the red strings that connect each person to their soulmate by a red string on each of their pinkies. This quirk is received by the oldest daughter in the family once they turn 4 (the parent still has it even when the child does). Sons can also have it but as a secondary quirk, it immediately gets passed down to the daughter and leaves the son with one quirk. You are able to cut it and/or tie it to yourself or other people at the cost of one year of your life for each alteration.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, cursing

WC: 1,725

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You still remember when you got your quirk. The day you turned four you saw the bright red strings appear, connecting everyone to each other. Some had strings that were long and crossed the streets and went around buildings, and some had their stings attached to the person next to them. They were on the floor for most of the time, occasionally stretched when two people had a strain on their relationship. They never broke though, always connected and paired by the universe, whoever it may be who controls it. They got longer when people are far from each other, and shorter when they were close. 

You saw sometimes the people who were connected, passing by each other without a second thought, strangers who rarely looked back at each other as the strange feeling overcame them. You were always happy when you saw two soulmates holding hands, and felt sorry for those who passed by their soulmate with a significant other in their arms. Some people even has two strings and you thought that was so cool. 

You liked to follow the strings when they were going in the same direction as you, and eventually got used to seeing them around not paying mind unless it was a short glance at two loving soulmates. 

Your mom and you were the only ones who could see and interact with them, your grandma dying before you were born with not many stories left behind. She would step on them while you avoided doing so, until she said it was fine. You still didn’t like to walk over them, only the accidental step sometimes but you mostly subtly avoided them. You remember that one time you tripped on a string and those few times you had to duck or go around strained ones. 

Then came when you looked at your pinkie, no bright red sting there. When you asked your mom why you didn’t have one she told you she didn’t have one at first either. She did though, you mentioned, and she said that she cut your dad’s string and tied it to her. You gasped and asked her why and she said that your dad asked for it, his original soulmate was “probably really far away anyway”. She said there was some guilt of course but 20 years of going strong it had melted away. 

She even told you of a story of someone who was bitter of not having a string, she cut every string in her path and ended up dying early, passing the quirk to her first niece. 

“Do you help your friends find their soulmates!?” you beamed, she smiled but shook her head. 

“I can’t, I don’t have the time to with all my work. Plus, you don’t even know if they want to know. They could be happily married or something“ she said. She was right, but you wanted to lead people to their soulmates! But you couldn’t do that under the circumstances you mom had just helped you realized.

Then the thought hit you, it could be your job! You could help people and make money all at the same time and it would be the best job ever! That thought was what started your continuous studying to get into a good school, and getting into that school. To be honest you’ve never been as driven about something as much as this.

So here you were now, at the doorway of UA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got stares from everyone as you confidently stepped into the building, then immediately jumping and tiptoeing about in the hallways avoiding the red strings you would soon shorten. Word had already gotten around after you explained to one person why you were walking funny. 

Days later you were already getting requests but you would just turn them down. Maybe just pointing to where they headed. Soon you were already making friends, especially with that one Ashido girl from the hero course who wanted so bad to find her soulmate. You wanted to tell her who it was but you couldn’t make exceptions, you guys weren’t even friends for long. 

Eventually, right when the class was going into the pricing lesson, Ashido immediately jumped on you to show her where her soulmate is. So, her first initiative for today was to drag you to her table for lunch. You met the nicest people ever, the first 10 seconds that passed were great. But your pink-haired friend had already cut to the chase.

“Here, just point me to where my string leads” She said as she slid you a 500 yen coin. You took it and pointed to the kitchen, your eyes trailed from her finger to where the string led, presumably outside a window or something.

She squealed, “Okay, now do them next, they’ll pay” she said as her other friends, except Bakugou, leaned in with interest. 

You chuckled and said, “Sorry I can’t. My teacher said I can’t offer services ‘til my business is official. My pricing itself isn’t complete either. I’m thinking of doing an up-front price along with a price according to how far the trip goes for them to find their soulmate. This of course will include an all expense pair trip if we ever leave the country or go on a far trip. It might be expensive for a lot of people but I really want to show them to their soulmates. I’m thinking of refunding them a portion if they cancel but if I keep doing that the business will get nowhere and no one will find their soulmate. I’m also really concerned for the people who might not have as much money so I’m thinking that the prices shouldn’t be that high. Hmm, maybe I should-”

“Geez, Y/N calm down. You’re starting to sound like Midoriya there with all your rambling” Ashido interrupted, “But I get it, you don’t have to. Dang the business course is though” 

“Not as tough as the hero course though. At least then you’ll be hella rich and I can help all of you find your soulmates”

 “Great!” She chirped. 

They all went back to their food, and out of curiosity you looked at their hands. seeing the red string on either the left or right pinkie. But one caught your eye. There was a set of hands, no red string on neither the left nor the right pinkie. You looked up at who it belonged and were met with glaring red ruby eyes. You got a good look at him, his spiky ash blonde hair. He was pretty attractive, sad he doesn’t have a soulmate though. His glare seemed to get sharper and so you had to stuff your face in your bowl if you didn’t want trouble. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Whoopsie, how’d you get into this situation? Backed up into the wall of an alleyway by this beautiful blonde. This blonde is of course mad and glaring at you like you stepped on his dog.

You did, however, find out who this man was. Bakugou Katsuki. From the sludge incident. Got the highest score in the practical entrance exam. He also got chained to a block of cement when he won gold at the sport’s festival that you couldn’t attend, not wanting to watch the strings get trampled by your doing the task given. As well as getting kidnapped by the League of Villains during the hero course’s camping trip.

You don’t know why you didn’t recognize him, not really paying attention to what all others do. But now you truly felt sorry for the guy, going through all that, probably blaming himself for All Might’s retirement, and not having someone to call his own. You don’t have to date your soulmate, and sometimes soulmate relationships fail, but it’s hard when they’re the perfect fit for you. 

This man didn’t have a perfect fit. I mean, neither did you but you were fine with making people happy, and you haven’t endured half this man has. 

“Let me ask you this once, why were you looking at me funny?” he gruffly demanded answers

“You sure you wanna know?” you asked nervously

“SPIT IT OUT WOMAN” he slammed his fist next to your head

“You don’t have a soulmate!” you said out of impulse

His eyes widened and his angry demeanor went away, “What?” he mumbled

“You don’t have a string” you clarified

“Well I don’t fucking need one, “ he puffed his chest out, “soulmates are bullshit anyway, don’t wanna have to trust someone like that, they’ll just become a weak spot”

“Well you wouldn’t think that when you tip over and self destruct in anger at yourself for stuff that’s not you fault” you commented as he neared you dangerously

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about”

You sighed as your lips pressed to a thin line, “Maybe I don’t, but no one will if you keep it to yourself”

“I’m fine with that”

“Sure” 

He must still be in shock, you just know he’ll add it to the baggage sooner or later. You had to do something about this, he doesn’t deserve it, before he could walk away you called out, “If it makes you feel better I don’t have one either, most people with my quirk don’t have any either”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“I can cut some string and tie it to you if you want, can’t force a good relationship though”

“No, I don’t want anyone else’s partner”

“Fine then,” you pondered, how could you help this guy out? 

“Lunch. Tomorrow” he stated and left

“Huh? Okay I guess” you said hesitantly. At least it was something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rubbed your arm nervously. It was a Saturday and you had asked Mina for his number, where he confirmed to meet outside your dorm. No one really cared that a hero course student was coming over, instead everyone used this time to do work on each of their own businesses. 

You sat at the small table set up in front of the entrance, it was circular and had a small vase of flowers at the center. You then heard a grunt and footsteps getting louder. You turned and saw Bakugou grumbling to himself as he made his way to you.

He plopped down on the seat next to you and before the awkward silence could commence he spoke up, “Why the fuck do you want to help me?”

You chuckled, a smile had danced on your lips, “Right to the chase, huh?”

His glare just hardened.

You felt your hands get clammy, “Heh, well, it is my future job. I want to make people happy”

“So you’ll just change peoples soulmates if someone pays you? Seems pretty shitty”

You gasped, feigning exaggerated offense, “I do not! For each alteration to strings I lose a year of my lifespan,” you explained

“So you’re willing to lose two years of your life to get me a soulmate?” 

You nodded

“Why?”

You sighed, you contemplated whether to take his hand in yours sympathetically but decided against it, instead opting to lean forward and lower your voice, “You’ve been through a lot more than most people should at your age, I just think you would be good with someone who will fully understand you. But, now that I think about it that may be difficult so that’s why...” you trailed off

You realized how no one will fully understand him, he’s a really complex person from what you picked up. You let out a small ‘Huh’ when the thought came to you.

You looked up when you heard him sigh, he mumbled something under his breath along the lines of ‘I cant believe I’m doing this’

“Look, you can’t just take someone else’s soulmate, it won’t work out for me or that person” He then groaned, “and it’s not like you have a soulmate either so...”

You looked at him puzzled, trying to put two and two together. When you did, you had a big shit-eating smirk on your face, “What are you trying to say, Bakugou?” You asked smugly

The infamous ‘tch’ was heard when the reddening on his ears proved true to your suspicions, “Wanna go out sometime?” he begrudgingly offered

You giggled. This hotheaded blonde, known for being aggressive and somewhat the villainous type, was asking you out to a date after two conversations. One was admittedly intimate but only two conversations nonetheless

You figured, why not ply with him for a little bit? 

“Hmmm... Nah, I’d rather waste two years of my life”

He growled, “Stop playing around! You’re lucky I’m even asking you out, I normally hate everyone. Plus, you can’t just connect me to some stranger!”

“We’ve had two conversations, we essentially still are strangers”

“Fucking- CALL ME KATSUKI THEN”

You froze in shock. He really was serious about this.

“...Why me?”

He relaxed, ready to give his explanation, “You’re probably the only one who gets an inkling of how I feel because of what I’ve gone through. Everyone else either holds it against me or thinks they understand me”

“Well then-”

“Alsoyou’recute” 

You paused again, you saw his flushed face but it was nowhere near the steam coming from the boiling pot that was your head. 

“Uh, y-you too I guess”

“Yeah I’ll see you next week, we’ll get dessert after lunch or some shit, whatever girls want to do on dates”

You scoffed at the stereotype, “Yeah, whatever you have my number,” You saved him a wink which was what made everything worth it for the sight of his face that now matched his eyes.

Part 2 cuz this ends too abrupt but its long already

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: just read it. its a crack fic

Quirk: Not specified

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, crack, short fic alert

WC: 179

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I really like you! Please accept my feelings” you said while bowing in front of him, chocolates held out for him to take

He stood still, “Who put you up to this?”

You raised yourself up, the hand holding chocolates falling to the side. “Kaminari” you sighed

He exhaled sharply and flicked your forehead, a yelp coming from you. “Why’d you do it?”

“Does this mean you reject my confession?” you pouted, facing away

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, “It’s not that, it’s just- you know we’re married, right?”

You sighed as you looked down at your ring, “Yeah...”

“So you don’t need to confess to me” 

You huffed pulling away from his embrace, “Just thought it’d be fun, but whatever” you said dejectedly, a hint of frustration in your voice as you stormed out of the room

Your husband sighed, “Baby,” he called for you to come back, “I love you!” he yelled

After your lack of response he tried again, louder this time, “Y/N!”

You refused to answer again, making him run after you, he growled, “Hey! Share some chocolate!”

Katsuki hited by a quirk that makes his skine change color depending on who he is talking to, example: yellow for when he's with someone he (deep down) consider as a freind (even if he doesn't admit it yet like with the bakusquad) and pink with his crush, but his crush on his fem bestfreind (reader) is a secret he keept from everyone until now. Thank youuu!

 Summary: ^

A/N: sorry for doing this late, I haven’t been active. I changed some things so sorry.

Quirk: Not specified

Warnings/Genre: Fluff, cursing, slight plot change (they don’t live in dorms),  implied smut

WC: 1,188

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed boredly in your seat waiting for your friends. No one really approached you as you were part of the Bakusquad and you hung around them most of the time. They were the most interesting people you met and you got close to them when you started hanging out with Bakugou. 

You took the fact that you were close to Bakugou pridefully and the friendship between you two grew. Sounds cheesy, you knew it did, but it was true. You were the one he willingly talked to the most and Kirishima saw you as manly because of that. 

Before you could continue to think of Bakugou, the classroom door slid open to reveal your chaotic group of friends. A smile grew on your face as they settled in and made a beeline to your desk. They greeted you then their eyes traveled to the empty seat beside you. 

“Where’s Bakugou?” Mina questioned

You glanced at his chair and shrugged, “He’s late I guess” 

Kaminari shook his head, “No, he’s never late. (Nickname), call him”

Your face turned red, “Huh? Why?”

They smirked but Kirishima played it off, “What? We all know you’re the only one he picks the phone up for” he reasoned

You rolled your eyes and muttered a ‘fine’ and you grabbed your phone. You scrolled though your contacts, clicking on ‘Katsuki💥🧡’. The group beside you gave each other sly smirks as you waited for Bakugou to pick up.

“What?” he snapped as he picked up the phone. You chuckled at the cold facade he put up and he figured that the others would be with you. 

“Where are you?” you asked

“I’m not going to school”

Your eyes widened, “What? Why? What happened” you turned to them and rushed, “He’s skipping” and put the phone back to your ear as you ignored their questions.

He exhaled sharply, “Shut up nothing’s wrong” he yelled into the phone, “it’s just- I got hit by a dumbass quirk and i might get humiliated if I go there”

You sighed, “He’s fine” you said and pulled the phone back, “So, what did the quirk do?”

“I dunno”

“What?”

“What?”

“It did nothing?”

“It did something, I just don’t know what”

You sighed, “Just come to school and we’ll figure it out”

“No” he huffed, “Didn’t you hear what I said-”

“I heard you. But if it isn’t doing anything bad, it’s not worth missing a day of school”

You heard him sigh, “Ugh fine” and he hung up. You smiled and explained to the group that he was coming to school. You and the group chatted the time away, pondering about what the quirk he was hit was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stormed in, just before class started, and plopped on the seat next to you. You smiled at him as he placed his stuff on their respective places. Aizawa walked in and began class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was lunch when you finally had a chance to talk to him. The group walked to you two as you got ready to walk to the cafeteria with him. “So you don’t look like anything changed.” He looked at you with a surprisingly calm look until it turned to a scowl at the sight of the rest of the group. 

“I guess, but tell me if anything changes or else you’ll be fucking dead if you embarrass me” he paused, seeing your wide eyes. “What?” he asked, the rest of his friends looking at him with the same expression. You eyed him up and down, a pink hue covered all his skin, from his cheeks to his neck to his hands and everywhere you could see. 

“Um.....” you started

“Um what!?” 

“You’re pink” you stated

“WHAT!?” he yelled, looking at his hands, pulling his sleeves to examine his arms. He looked as shocked as you guys did. 

You spoke up first, “I assume this is what the quirk did” you said, feeling as though this was familiar. 

“The fuck!?”

“Say, Katsuki, did you happen to see who struck this quirk on you?”

“Some dude, stupid hair, stupid face, he had spots on his skin” he said. You pulled your phone out. “What’re you doing?” Kaminari asked

You clicked the contact ‘Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈’ and texted him.

You

Hey did you use your quirk on an angry blonde this morning?

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Yeah why? He startled me

You

It makes the skin turn colors right?

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Yeah

Lemme guess. He’s your friend and u want me to send a list what the colors mean

You

Duh

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Red- talking to someone he hates Orange- he’s mad/annoyed at Yellow- enjoys being with Green- is jealous of Blue- looks down on Violet- admires Pink- likes romantically

You

Thanks!! U deserve an uwu

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Just an uwu u suck

You 

lol k

You put the phone down and slipped it in your bag. “So what does it say? Why is he turning into other colors?” Ashido asked excitedly, “Is he trying to match me?” she said, pressing her arm to his, showing the similar color.

You laughed, “No, his skin will just change random colors whenever he talks to someone” you lied smoothly. You knew now how he felt about you and you couldn’t be happier. You grinned at the thought, having no time to blush due to your happiness and cockiness that washed over you.  

The group nodded as you all headed out for lunch, having fun watching Bakugou turn yellow talking with Kirishima, orange with Midoriya and Todoroki, and even go back to normal when he has to interact with those who mean nothing to him, aka the ‘extras’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day ended and you part ways with the group to walk home with Bakugou. You walked in comfortable silence as the sun set. You carefully reached for Bakugou’s hand. He looked at you with a red face and you looked away, both your faces covered with a dark blush. He reluctantly allowed you to lace your fingers with his and scoot closer to him. You were eventually walking while latched to his arm, both of you not saying a word to each other. 

You both stopped walking when you had to part ways. You smirked and kissed him on the cheek, “I like you too, Katsuki” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he yelled, turning red. You giggled and showed him the texts, also one added in the middle of classes saying it will only last until midnight. He turned red- well no, pink. As he continued, “Why didn’t you say anything dumbass!?”

You grinned, “Well, it’s cute seeing you pink while talking to me. And now I know you like me back”

He scoffed and pulled you to him, he grabbed your collar and smashed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened, taking a moment seeing the wrinkles on his forehead go away. Once he relaxed and stopped frowning, you did too. Your eyes closed and you held onto his forearms. After he hesitantly pulled away, you looked at him, panting.

“We’re dating now, you’re my girlfriend”

“At least take me on a date first” you pouted as he pulled you to continue walking to his house.

“Next time, for now let’s consummate the marriage” he said lowly. Your face burned as you let him continue dragging you to his house.

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Starting with my favorite boi. In which the reader in Katsuki's girlfriend and its the first Saturday after moving to the dorms and she goes to see him right after getting home to Japan. (This is from an unpublished wattpad book in my acc)

Quirk: teleportation and telepathy. You can teleport yourself and two other people a few objects (depending on size) at will anywhere within half a kilometer. If you do it to far or too often you can start to feel dizzy. You can talk to people through your mind no matter how far they are as long as you have a connection. The telepathy is a lesser trained quirk, (you can't read minds)

Genre/Warning(s): Cursing, fluff, and somewhat of a lime

Word Count: 1028

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plane landed as you quickly grabbed your backpack and walked into the airport. By the word of the law it's illegal to use your quirk out in public but you didn't care as you grabbed your suitcase and ran to an alleyway. You teleported to a mall you remembered seeing going to the airport, then a gas station, a restaurant, a park and finally, your home. Your head was spinning slightly as you opened the door and dropped your bags off with a note you wrote in the plane.

'I'm off to see Katsuki, be home by 7'

You stepped outside. You appeared in front of U.A. and  got through its walls without an alarm. You found a building that said 1A and walked up to the door.

You knocked a few times and eventually someone open one of two huge doors. It was a girl with a round face and brown hair. "Hello there, who might you be?"

"Uh yeah hi can I see katsuki? Is he here?" You rushed your questions, trying to look over her shoulder.

She gave you a puzzled look, "uhm, yeah he's here-"

"Good. S'cuse me" you said teleporting past her and storming into what you assumed was the common area.

You looked around the mansion-like dorm building, your mind too busy to admire it. There were a few students here and there in the dining area and the living room but no Katsuki. Everyone was staring at you and when you finally saw that blonde pomeranian of a person you stormed up to him. He was with some dude with a red version of his own hair, the guy chatting to him while he had that everlasting scowl on his face. You stormed up to him as his buddy stopped talking. He looked up at you for a brief second before you smacked him right across the face. You heard a few gasps but it went unnoticed as red hair guy stepped back.

Right after the slap was heard throughout the room followed by the sight of you with your arms around him and your face buried in his chest. Your tears got soaked up by the cotton of his shirt and you started, "Bakugou Katsuki you DO NOT just get fucking KIDNAPPED while I'm abroad and not respond to my quirk! Do you know how fucking worried I was!?"

He just wrapped his arms around you as you sobbed into his chest. You hit him repeatedly, "fuck you fuck you fuck you"

"Sorry, 'kay? I didn't want you to come to me and get hurt" He said quietly, only for you to hear

"Fuck you lets go out I missed you and I'm furious I want ice cream" you said, wiping your eyes.

He blinked, "Wow you just went through a lot of emotions. Sure lets go"

Everyone stared in awe at how you could get mad at him without him bowing up your face in retaliation. Kaminari slowly walked up to the two of you, "Heeeey Bakugou, you wanna introduce us to this lovely lady?" He asked, winking at you.

"Ew" you said. "Nope, fuck off Dunce Face" he said, eyes narrowing at the scared blonde.

"Let's go" he said facing you and holding your hand. You thought of your favorite ice cream shop and teleported you both there.

~~~~~~~~~~

You two were currently sitting on a bench at the park eating from your ice cream cones. You were laying your head on his shoulder while licking any ice cream that fell from the cone. You could tell he was pissed about something because he had a scowl on his face. He always did, sure, but not really when he was with you. You huffed, "ugh, fine I'll ask. Why do you look so pissed?"

"Why did you do that?" he snapped

"Do what?"

"Storm into my dorm building, now everyone's gonna ask questions about us"

"And I'm gonna answer them"

"Nothing personal about us though"

You shrugged, "I dunno, I'm pretty blunt and honest"

He chuckled, "that's why I love you"

"You love me cuz I'm a badass bitch"

"That too"

You both burst into a small fit of laughter. That's the thing about you both, you complimented yourselves and each other, simultaneously raising both of your self esteems. You were also there to smack the pride off of him if his ego was getting too big. That was always your dynamic and it was working. If he hasn't stormed out of the relationship after a year, it meant it was going good.

You both finished your ice cream and teleported you both to the outside of Heights Alliance. Before you could get a hold of the doorknob he pinned you to the wall between the window and the door. "Katsuki, what the hell?"

"Before we go in, just wanted to make sure they now not to fool around with you" he growled as he attacked your lips.  He forced his tongue into you mouth, winning dominance over you with little effort. He sucked on your tongue and further explored your mouth. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. Quickly latching his lips to your neck he bit, sucked, kissed, and licked you sweet spot and anywhere that could be obviously seen. You suppressed moan after moan and just as quickly as it started, it ended.

He wiped his lips and just before you could collect yourself he slammed the door open and pushed you inside. You stumbled in and walked alongside him. Everyone looked at the two of you as you tried to wipe the saliva from your puffy lips  and from your neck. You followed him quietly as you both took a seat on the couch. You were flushed in embarrassment until someone finally talked to you.

"Hi there! I'm Mina Ashido! Judging by your puffy lips and hickeys I can assume your Bakugou"s girlfriend?"

"Wow, forward much?" You replied

"Yup! Now tell me, how did you guys meet? How did you guys get together?  How are you guys still together?"

Your fit of giggles died down and you finally started to answer her questions.

I keep on seeing Cheating and Angst for Katsuki Bakugou a lot. Way to much to say. Not enough Fluff for the guy.

“Hurry up guys Kirishima just said they were on their way back” you panicked as everybody worked to set out food and such on a table.

Kirishima had dragged Bakugou out a little over four and a half hours ago and though you missed him you weren’t exactly ready for him to return yet, your nerves where all over the place as your classmates helped to hang decorations as you laid out the gifts Mitsuki had helped you and his friends to purchase by going through her sons room and finding out what he could possibly enjoy

“Relax y/n, I’m sure he’ll like everything, mainly because you planned it, but we don’t talk about that part” Midoriya patted you on the back before continuing to direct people and help out where needed.

You had to stand there for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by everything that was happening around you, you were excited yes but your senses were still struggling to handle everything as fast as you needed it to.

“I’m gonna go up to my room for a second!” you called out to the green haired boy as he attempted to assist Iida in hanging a banner “Okay We’ve got everything handled here!” he responded not looking at you as you sped walked up to your room to try and settle yourself.

You got there much quicker than you yourself had expected and laid on your bed, before reaching over and putting on the headphones that Katsuki had bought you knowing how overstimulating things could get around school.

‘I'll just lay in here for a minute’ you thought to yourself but the comfort of your bed, and the way they seemed to envelope you in the familiar scent of your boyfriends body wash as he had stayed the night with you many times before the sheets seeming to cling desperately to the smell as it combined with the comfort of your bed to lull you to sleep.

The bed dipped as gentle hands removed your headphones effectively waking you up from an accidental nap, though sleep lingered in your body as you realized how long you’ve been asleep, the moonlight fully replacing the sunshine that was present when you first laid down.

“Go back to sleep dumbass” The voice of your boyfriend whispered from behind you as he pulled you into him, “but what about the par-” you began to ask sitting up as he pulled you back down “it’s already over dummy” his gruff voice laughed 

“Really? I slept through it?!” you panicked as he laughed even more “yep, stupid Deku told me about your sneaky ass party planning but non of them had seen you” he explained 

“They should’ve woken me up” you huffed getting comfortable in your bed once more feeling guilty that you had slept through an event you had planned in the first place.

“I woulda killed them if they did that” he responded in his usual tsundere ton “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of sleep you’ve been getting, staying up reading that weird ass smut all night” he held you tighter a you sighed your face burning slightly at the revelation

“We don’t talk about that kat” you hushed him playfully “Did you at least enjoy yourself while I was sleeping?” you asked knowing Kirishima would have held him hostage at the party, especially after all the time went into it.

“It was alright, woulda been better without those dumbasses trying to keep me downstairs instead letting me come up here sooner” he also huffed “how’d ya know it was my birthday anyway?” he asked curious as he hardly remembered his own birthday

“Mitsuki called” you smiled cheekily as he chuckled “of course the old hag did” 

“I should at least go help with cleaning up though” you figured as you made another effort to get out of bed, the air cold compared to the warmth of your bed especially now that there was one other person in it.

“Nope” and again, you were gently dragged back down, calloused and rough hands caging you “It’s already done stupid, let’s just go to sleep” he insisted burying himself into your neck as you gave up trying to move “yeah that sounds nice” you sighed relaxing fully back into his body.

“Happy birthday Kat” you whispered as he kissed the nape of your neck softly

“Love you dumbass” and with that you both retired into a soft realm of slumber where not rain or snow could take away the tranquility of this moment.

-From outside the room-

“Denki I don’t think you should be filming them-” Kirishima tried to stop his friend who had filmed your entire interaction

“But it makes good blackmail” he whined as Sero snatched the camera from him “as much as I agree with you there, Kirishima’s right, we should just leave them alone” 

“Alrighttt”

-End-

bad days & insecurities | katsuki x f!reader

a/n: here’s another untouched excerpt i had sitting in my drafts that i don’t think i’ll finish. enjoy.

tw: f!reader, chubby reader, insecurities, comfort fluff

“Just - just don’t fucking touch me,” you said angrily.

“The fuck? What do you mean, don’t touch you?”

You chanced a glance his way and saw the hurt in Katsuki’s eyes. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe-

“Huh?”

“I mean don’t touch me. I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied. “And I know you hate it when I tell you that, but that’s the answer you’re getting.”

“No, it’s not. What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice raising.  

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Katsuki,” you shouted. “Just drop it.”

You walked to the bathroom hoping to secure some privacy, but Katsuki wasn’t having it. 

You reached for he handle as he slammed the door away from your hand into the wall, wide open. You knew him enough to know it took all of his effort not to force you to look his way. But right now you didn’t care. Everything inside hurt, it hurt too much. All you wanted was the hot water on your back and the lights off so you didn’t have to see what parts of you didn’t deserve him. 

“If you don’t get the hell out of this bathroom and let me shower-”

“Look at me.”

“No,” you said. 

He wouldn’t let it go. 

“Please, baby. I - I won’t yell, I promise,” Katsuki said, pain evident in his voice. 

It felt like hot daggers in your stomach. A lump grew in your throat. 

“It’s not that. Not you. I’m sorry for being so childish,” you said. “I’m having a really tough day, that’s all.”

“Then let me-”

“No,” you said firmly. “I need to be alone.”

Katsuki stood quietly. 

“Please, Kats.” Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. 

“Was it that fucking bitch again? She getting into your head?” he asked. 

‘That bitch’ was a shitty coworker who never seemed to shut up about you. What you ate, what you wore, how your body looked, your job performance. Someone who had the gall to tell you to your face that you weren’t good enough for the hero standing in the room. Who said that he could do so much better. 

“No, I just…” 

“What is it?” he said. 

“You don’t want the truth.” Your voice was quiet and pleading. 

“The fuck are you on about, babe? Yes, I do.”

You took a deep breath. “You deserve better. I don’t want to elaborate. And I don’t want you to console me or tell me I’m wrong right now. My body feels gross, and I want to process it on my own.”

The crushing hug he pulled you into knocked the air out of your chest. “Kats-”

“Shut it. I want to hold you, n you’re gonna let me,” he said grumpily. Katsuki kissed you on the head. “Fuckin’ tellin’ me I can’t touch you. ‘S bullshit.”

You cracked a little grin, your face pressed into his chest. He held you in silence for what felt like ages, but eventually a calmness soothed the tightness in your stomach.

“I love you. Can I shower now?” you asked.

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m not done with you, little miss. You owe me a damn kiss or ten after that.”

You laughed and met his scowling gaze.

“That’s fair.” You leaned in and stood on your toes. “How about one for the road to start with?”

“‘S more like it.” Katsuki lifted your chin, pressing his soft lips to yours.

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☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. in every other universe.

about. “in every other universe, gwen stacey falls for spiderman. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well.” - inspired by this bkg art @/kingkatsuki sent me and by self love.

warnings. none. fluff, slight angst, happy ending, across the spiderverse spoilers, spiderverse!bakugou & fem!reader.

once you know that you’re not the only one out there — it’s hard to go back to your regular life. not everyone can do the things that katsuki bakugou can do, you know, shoot webs, fight crime and save the day. it’s isolating. it’s lonely. he knows that he should feel blessed, it’s not every day that you’re given superhuman abilities and the power to change the world.

some days the truth about his identity, the words ‘i’m spiderman.’ sit eagerly on the tip of his tongue — desperate to be pushed out into open and heard by the people he loves. his mom, his dad, even his stupid roommate, kirishima. but if bakugou burdens them with the truth, then he puts them at risk too. losing his childhood friend deku had been more than enough, he couldn’t lose someone else too.

other days he remembers there are others just like him, dotted across the universe in their own connections and constellations — there’s his mentor, there’s his friends… there’s you.  it’s been a year since your world’s were once able to collide and bakugou has tried (and failed) to move on from you and devote himself to saving the day. your smile, your eyes, your drive, your bravery — he would be stupid to purposely forget all of that. 

he’s also a little weird for kicking back in his desk chair, mindlessly spinning around his dorm room (after patching himself up where katsuki had just gotten his ass kicked) thinking about the curve of your lips and how your voice sounds when you speak…

“hey katsuki! katsuki… wanna hangout?” 

in surprise, the blonde tips backwards in his seat, bakugou’s back hitting the floor with a harsh thud that causes pain to blossom somewhere along his shoulder blades. “what the fuck?” he grunts through a stream of colourful curses. he must be imagining things. crushing too hard on someone he’s not supposed to ever be able to see again. you can’t be here. it’s not physically possible. 

but through his searing pain and frustrated hisses, bakugou manages to crack a ruby red eye open — letting his gaze bare witness to the swirling, bright portal in his ceiling and the girl he’s still hung up over just peeking through. 

he really has to watch out for those punches to the head — he’s going insane.

“what the actual fuck?” 

amused laughter streams from between your lips, muffled slightly by the signature piece of a spider-person’s consume. you pull back the mask of your spider-suit which don the colours of your universe and grin. bright and beautiful. it makes bakugou’s heart squeeze in his chest. “dang, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” you tease, letting the web that holds you up sink further out of the portal until you’re hanging just above the foul-mouthed blonde. “good to see you too, hot shot.”

“what— how are y’even here?” bakugou sits up, fighting the twitches in his face and the real meaning to words on the tip of his tongue. i missed you. 

your face tells the story he longs too, your pretty eyes nostalgic and warm. you’ve missed him as well. “oh you know, just thought i’d swing by.” 

“that was fuckin’ terrible.”

“come on, katsuki, you liked it.” i like you. is what he really wants to say back.

he can practically feel your breathy laughter on his lips and taste your vanilla perfume. hanging upside down and in front of him is way too compromising of a position — he might kiss you if he’s not careful.

“fuckin’ dumbass.” bakugou puts a hand on your face and uses it to push you away before you can get any closer. you lose your balance, coming crashing down from the ceiling once your web snaps and the portal closes. he’s quick to crawl over to you, not evening thinking abound space now when there’s been entire universes and timelines between you up until this moment. “shit, you okay? forgot how clumsy you were.” 

he utters fondly, mostly under his breath — in a way that’s impossible to miss with how bakugou leans over you. his face full of bursting concern. you don’t dare to move, taking in said face. observing how much it’s changed since you were last on earth-420. how his eyes are harder, less youthful but still wild. how his lips look softer, fuller — you wonder what chapstick he’s been using. how his chin is stronger and his face more defined and his nose slightly shifted and—

“you’re no different than before, still a meanie.” you quip, voice wistful. quiet. “you grew out your hair.” reaching up, you brush your fingers over the soft tips of his ash blonde locks — closing your eyes at the feel of them, as if you’re basking in sunlight. 

“yeah.” bakugou hums. “yours is different too.” 

“you think? do you like it.” 

“‘f’course.” he keens into your touch as it cascades down to his cheeks. “you always look good.” 

“you haven’t seen me in a while.”  

“doesn’t mean i don’t think about you.” 

“ah…me too.” 

“y’think about me?” 

a beat of silence passes and you don’t speak for a while. you’re both afraid you might hear each other’s hearts racing. ever since i jumped back into that collider.” rolling out from underneath katsuki, you sit up with your back to him and fiddle with your spandex mask. “let’s go for a swing.” 

you’re up and throwing open his dorm window before bakugou can even register — leaving him to deal with his erratic pulse and pink kissed cheeks. it’s crazy how time apart made him only want you more. how he can’t have you because you’re not even meant to be here, even if there’s some kind of gravitational force from the universe pulling you together. when you don’t hear him coming after you, you turn to face him from the window ledge — he can see the longing even in the reflective lenses of your suit. 

“you coming?” 

bakugou’s entire body screams at him to say yes, every fibre of his being itching to be with you. but his one fatal flaw keeps him rooted in place on his knees. he can’t hurt you. can't tell you his feelings knowing he’ll never have a way of acting on them. 

“can’t, got homework.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “i’m a college kid now, remember?” 

he can already tell that you’re rolling your eyes from under the mask even when you shrug back — tipping yourself out of the window, knowing that he’ll chase you. bakugou watches you, half amused, half annoyed as you stand up straight and defy all laws of everything by sticking to the side of his dorm building. 

“does Spider-Man have homework?”

all he can do is shake his head at you. both in amusement and in disbelief.

talking to you eases all the tension katsuki bakugou’s shoulders bare. 

it’s easy to be with you because you understand what it’s like to be alone in protecting the people you love and the communities you care about. hiding your face and cowering away from friends and family in the real world — every day life. you get why wearing the mask is both a blessing and a curse. it cost you your mother’s love. it cost you your home. and now you surf through universes to find your place amongst the other spider people that exist… and yet, katsuki, as you confess — is the only one to bring you comfort. 

whilst swinging and soaring through the streets of katsuki’s city, you tell him all of the nitty gritty details. no one wants a vigilante for a daughter. he holds his tongue in telling you that he wants you instead. you giggle when you explain to him all the worlds you’ve seen and people you’ve met through being apart of this elite spider-team. and when bakugou asks how a pipsqueak like you managed to get in before he did — you cock your head to the side innocently and say…

“you’re an asshole, katsuki. we can’t have you clashing with the number one in charge.”

bakugou has to pull his mask up to breathe while he laughs — snorting so hard that he almost misses a stride while swinging through the sunset-stained streets with you. by the time golden hour sets it’s sights upon you both, he’s taken you to the highest point in musutafu to watch the sun disappear beyond the horizon. 

when the world gets him down — katsuki comes up here to think and clear his head of any doubts that might be holding him back. it’s peaceful up here, away from the crime cracking on below and the bustling mundane city traffic. often times, he thinks of you too…so sharing this spot with you by his side is extremely intimate to him.

you’re talking but bakugou will admit he’s not really listening, too entranced by the shapes your lips form around each word, at least until you say his name. “you’re the only one who’s ever, truly got me, katsuki.” you tell him, swinging your feet off the ledge of the building. if you fall, your instincts would catch you…but you know katsuki would be the first to save you. 

“could say the same thing about you.” he admits, the burnt orange spider crest on his chest heaving with bakugou’s nervous sigh. he pinches at the black latex suit covering his fingers — debating on inching his hand closer to yours.

if you notice, you don’t say anything about it. “in every other universe, spiderman gets the girl.” katsuki swallows as you speak, ruby eyes darting all over your pretty face outlined by warm tone natural lights — your masks long discarded. “and in every other universe…it doesn’t end well. for either of them.”

you don’t bother finishing your sentence, swallowing the lump in your throat along with the fate you might meet if you lean into your greed to be with katsuki. it’s only then that you notice his hand slipping away, retreating behind the wall he builds up around himself — to keep himself closed off and protected from getting hurt. 

“i wish i could change that.” he mumbles distantly, looking out at the world, the universe as if he’s been scorned. cursed by the mask once more. it’s like the stars have turned against him and are mocking him as they come out to play — reminding bakugou that everyone he’s ever loved will get hurt because of him…eventually. everyone including you. “prove ‘em wrong, yanno?” 

even still, he offers you his signature lazy smirk and twinkling mischievous red eyes and you can’t help but fall for him all over again. 

“yeah,” comes your soft reply. “maybe there’s a chance that things can work out.” 

“a first time for everythin’, yeah?”

this time, neither of you pull back as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. 

for a moment, the world stills. freezing time for the only two people in the universe may truly understand one another. 

freezing, for you and katsuki. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

last night, you had your very first sleepover with katsuki.

it was perfect. no snoring or sleep walking, no blanket hogging, and most importantly—no pro hero work pulling him away in the morning. the only thing that would’ve made it better, is some clarity.

you’re dating katsuki, but it’s not official—he’s not your boyfriend. you wonder if maybe, he’s just not that into you, or perhaps, he just doesn’t have the time. time—something he’s never had enough of, that has to be it, right?

your very first date, it was a two parter, because he was needed elsewhere mid mapo tofu. a few other dates after that were also cut short—maybe he thinks you just don’t know each other well enough yet? is it even possible for someone like him to think that way? whatever the reason, you need to know.

“morning katsuki,” you murmur, shuffling into the kitchen as you pull your sleeves up over your fists. you have a clear goal in mind—but he’s cooking, without a shirt, and suddenly your mission is ten times more difficult. is this what being a pro hero feels like?

“morning,” he mumbles back, glancing up briefly as you lean against the counter.

“what am i to you?” shit, how did that slip out? you could’ve sworn you asked how he slept.

“a fuckin’ headache,” he replies, sliding two glasses out of the cupboard and onto the counter. he opens the fridge, grabbing the carton of apple juice, and the carton of orange juice.

date three, part one—you had a heated debate over which is better, apple or orange. katsuki told you he doesn’t like to chew his damn beverages, and you told him that, believe it or not, they make orange juice without pulp. still, he went on about the bitterness, the acidity, and the horrid oj and toothpaste combo—yet here he is having both in his refrigerator—how odd.

“c’mon, i’m serious,” you urge, watching the liquids cascade into their respective cups.

“so ‘m i.” he nudges your glass towards you, bringing his own up to his lips and chugging it.

“but, i’m in your apartment,” you pause, noticing the way his face contorts into a full on sentence—one that reads yeah, no shit. “i slept in your bed with you, i’m wearing your shirt,” you continue, gesturing to the long sleeve currently swallowing you whole.

“you’re talkin’ my damn ear off too,” he breathes, wiping an arm over his mouth.

by date five, it was obvious that katsuki’s actions spoke louder than his words—which is impressive considering just how loud his words are. puddles lined the streets that evening, courtesy of the afternoon downpour. it was busy, drivers lost in their own little worlds as they drove past—and each and every time, katsuki would angle his body to the right just a bit. he cursed every last one of them who sped by, and he was absolutely miserable by the time you made it off the main roads but, at least you were dry.

“nevermind,” you say, sliding into a chair at the dining table. you’ve decided that, whatever this is—it’s good enough for you.

but it was on date one part two that katsuki knew you were it for him. after running out on you just three nights prior, he was glad you even showed up—but you went one step further. you sat there with that pretty smile on your face. no eye rolls, no guilt trips, and not a single snide remark or complaint. you even offered to pay for the meal—as if he would ever let you do such a thing, but he found it cute nonetheless. so, he owes you this.

“hey,” he barks, causing your head to snap up. the two plates he had set on the counter are full now, he must be done. “you’re mine.”

the look on your face must’ve said it all, because he’s choking back a laugh as he carries your plates over. you’re his? why did he blurt it out so casually? are you missing something?

“oh c’mon,” he huffs, plopping down in the seat next to you. he turns, trailing his eyes up and down your figure. “you slept on my damn side of the bed, in my fuckin’ shirt.”

he gave you this shirt—right before he told you to go wait in bed while he tidied up—how the hell were you supposed to know he has a specific side?

“don’t play dumb,” he pauses, scowl growing as he watches you reach for a piece of food with your bare hands. he grabs your wrist, ushering for you to let him roll your sleeves up—like hell he’s gonna sit back and watch you get his shirt dirty.

he folds the fabric with precision, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hide his smile—but he just can’t.

“y’already know you’re mine.”

KEEPING UP WITH KATSUKI & SHOTO.

❝everyone knows katsuki and shoto shares absolutely no similarity at all. a complete polar opposites. until you had them thinking twice.❞

genre: fluff, angst, romance | pairing: katsuki x fem!reader x shoto | rating & tw will be mentioned in each respective drabbles | others: SIMPING BOYS , love triangle

Keep reading

[ nsfw ] — role-play (and a smidge of dub-con in said role) but it's silly ; insecure bakugou bc it makes me feral.

[ disclaimer ] — i'm sure this goes without saying, but this is based on my own personal interpretation of bakugou and not meant to insult or offend. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[ word count ] — 3.9k ; this was just supposed to be short and silly idk what happened LOL

katsuki is shy.

as soon as he sees you — rushing out from the kitchen, grabbing the laundry basket that's been filled with some of his things — his face is already turning pink. blush growing, just like his scowl.

he doesn't say anything at first, just eyes your jumpsuit and your boots and little mask, and then his work bag hits the floor with a resounding thud. "the fuck are y'doin'?"

"oh, no!" you cry dramatically, pressing a hand to your forehead as you look down in the basket — which holds two of his watches and a pair of shoes gifted from his mom and even a few of the nicer necklaces he's bought you over the years. "pro-hero dynamight has caught me!"

and then he knows exactly what you're up to.

still, he says nothing, even though you wait to see if he'll play along, grinning all the while. under your gaze, he shifts awkwardly, screwing up his lips as he tries to ignore the low cut of your outfit, swallowing when you push your boobs together with your arms.

"i better get out of here," you say loudly, as if he hadn't heard you. "i don't want such a big, strong hero to arrest me!"

the temperature of his face rises, but your corny line has his attitude returning with a vengeance. "what are you doing?"

a streak of insecurity runs through you, but you grit your teeth together, steeling yourself so that it doesn't show. you don't miss the subtle way he tries to wipe his hands on his sweatpants or how secretly he tries to tug at them — and that gives you all the confirmation that you need.

your boyfriend is a big pervert, and you're determined to prove it.

(last week, katsuki was on night patrol and had gone into the agency around 7pm. the shirt he grabbed had been the wrong one, a black sleeveless tank with a giant tear in the side that he had yet to sew up, and he'd called to ask if you could bring him a new one.

sure, no problem; when you got to his office, he'd been sitting at his desk in just his tac pants and boots, scrolling through mindless paperwork while waiting and he'd looked — really good. you see him without a shirt all the time, but mostly he's in sweatpants or fresh out of the shower, and there was something about seeing him so geared up and ready to go that struck you differently.

you don't often watch the replays on tv of his work because it scares you, but to witness him as dynamight —

it had you feeling mischievous, suffice to say.

you sat quietly on his desk, watching him close out of his computer, smiling to yourself as he logged off. he thanked you for the shirt with a kiss to the cheek and then he expected you to head home; you could see it in his eyes, watching you — a little wary — as he fiddled with the material in his hands.

"there's, like, nobody in here."

katsuki shrugged, little kissable pout on his lips. "s'almost 8, everyone's at home."

you hummed, turning around to stare out his open office, down the long line of sleeping monitors in their cubicles. "we could have sex in here and nobody would know."

it made him choke, and he stepped back from you to cough into his fist before looking at you with wide eyes. "what?"

of course, it was his reaction at that point that had you feeling wicked. "c'mon, you got 10 minutes?'

his eyes danced to every corner of the room, cheeks flushing in the low light from his desk lamp, before he leaned to look out the door, too. checking, you think.

"i—what? no, i-i don't. pinky's waitin' for me out there."

you were only being cheeky—at least mostly—so you'd simply stuck your tongue out at him and shrugged. "okay, fine." and then he sighed, like he'd narrowly gotten away from something, before leaning back to shove his hands in his pants. you grinned, watching as he adjusted himself. "i mean, i can be quick, if you want."

"shut. up." he hissed, and it wasn't until he removed his hand that you realized exactly how hard he was, palming at his bulge roughly, as if he could smash it down until it was gone.

just from that. just from the suggestion of fucking on his desk. you laughed and he glared and then kicked you out, after a furious kiss that was firmer than usual.)

katsuki is very — particular about sex. something he likes to take his time with, despite being lightning quick about everything else in his life. it's only in the last year that he's allowed himself to be a little more vocal in bed, moaning openly against your skin, telling you how good you feel in his quiet, broken little voice.

as far as kirishima lets on, this is his longest relationship and, even though he's surely not a virgin, you wonder if he's ever really been comfortable with himself sexually. he's got an absurd amount of testosterone raging through his body at all times, but he always acts so unsure, like he's worried he'll do something to embarrass himself; you're determined to free him from that fear.

and — seeing him get worked up over you is half the fun, anyway.

you carefully set the laundry basket down — which also holds an older model of his left gauntlet — before moving like you're going to run right out the front door, only to unfortunately stumble straight into him.

"oh, no!" you say again, hands flat against his chest as you sink into him. "please don't arrest me dynamight, i'll do anything."

his throat works hard, eyes jumping between your face and the front of your tiny jumpsuit, which is unzipping the more you arch your back and push against it. he rasps, "what is this?"

you pout at him before dropping straight down to your knees, twirling the string of his sweatpants around your finger as he gapes at you. "i'm a horrible, horrible villain," you explain, "and we've been playing this little cat-and-mouse game for too long! and you've been chasing after me for months and now you've caught me here in the solitude of your own home and, much to your surprise," you unzip the rest of the top for emphasis, smiling when he slumps back against the front door. "i'm a woman!"

katsuki is — still speechless, though you can see the gears turning in his head as you nuzzle against the swelling bulge in his soft sweatpants, mouthing at his tip through the thick material.

"i'll do anything, dynamight, sir." you goad, and you wait and he's not breathing, just furrowing his brows down at you. you try not to make a face at him and purposely cup him through his pants, hard.

it makes him nearly jump out of his skin. "wh-what's with—the fuckin' getup?"

you slump, leaning your cheek against his thigh to pout up at him some more. "i got it at the costume store, baby, but that's not..."

the cool, air-conditioned breeze is nipping at your exposed skin the longer you sit in front of him like this and it's chasing away all the sultry confidence you had before he came home.

it's not even like you actually think katsuki's a pervert, you just want him to be kinky without being ashamed of it, and, much as you want to fix that now, maybe you're going about this the wrong way. maybe this is something you two need to sit down and talk about. maybe there is something he's not telling you, on purpose.

he stares straight ahead, mouth open like he's waiting for his words to come out, and you watch as a bead of sweat slips from his hairline down to his jaw before hiding your face in his leg and groaning quietly; you're not mad, just a little embarrassed that you thought this is what would work on him.

"okay, okay," you say, standing back up to re-zip your suit. "i'm done, sorry for ambushing you."

his eyes snap to yours, though he's still quiet, and he eventually closes his mouth, gritting his jaw so hard that his ears wiggle once. you plant a kiss on him, quick and dry, before turning to head back to your room so you can change, pulling the cheap eye-mask over your head. the string catches against your head and snaps you once, and you mumble a quiet ow before reaching for the door knob.

very carefully, you feel katsuki's fingers dance over your waist, and he reaffirms his grip after you pause. he pushes you forward flat against the wood gently, not at all how he would to a real villain, and then he buries his face in your neck, hot breath coming quick as if he'd been running.

you try not to smile because the curve of your cheeks will give you away, and so you stay quiet, waiting. you feel him breath in hard through his nose, grunting once before speaking.

"where...d'y'think you're goin'?"

his ears are burning into your skin, but when you roll your hips back against him, he reciprocates, fingers tightening as he pins you firmly to the door.

you try again. "are you going to arrest me, dynamight?"

"uh," katsuki breathes, pulling his head back to look behind him towards his bag. "i, uh," his hesitation is so endearing that you can't help but to grin, "i've only got, um, zipties in—"

"ow!" you squeal, arching into him, though the sound makes him jump back a step. with the new space, you twist your arms around your back, grabbing your own wrists in a false bind. "please be gentle with me, sir!"

he huffs, shaky, before purposely grinding his hard length against your ass. one of his hands curls around both of your own, firm in keeping you "caught", while his other goes to grab at the fat of your hips.

his breath warms behind your ear again and he nips at your neck once. "uh...the hell're you doin' in my house?"

you're happy and so you want to laugh, but you know he'll take it the wrong way, especially as nervous as he seems. instead you struggle in his hands, hardly serious, rubbing against him until he huffs again.

"i'll never tell you!"

"well, then," his arm slips fully around your waist, resting for a moment against the doorknob before turning it. "i'll—fuckin' make you."

you gasp loudly, spinning to back into the room until your knees hit the bed, collapsing down and trapping your hands beneath yourself. "you can't do this!" you struggle some more, wiggling your hips and straining against the tight jumpsuit so it'll start to force open again. "you have to let me go!"

katsuki is clearly at a loss, stepping up to the bed as he half-shrugs, uncertain. "no."

you smile despite yourself and it turns his face beet red, but you quickly school your expression back into fake shock. "i'll scream."

what you want him to say is something along the lines of, oh yeah baby i'll make you scream, but that is — simply not him, and you think he's not breathing again, just watching the zipper of your suit as it slowly struggles. it's so cheap and poorly made, you're surprised it hasn't broken yet.

you arch up at little, finding your mask sitting on the floor by the door, and you exaggerate a moan. "my identity," you whimper, making big, sad eyes at him. "i've been discovered."

katsuki shuffles again, glancing at the floor before bending to pick up the tacky thing. you hadn't meant for him to get it for you, but he tugs at it before coming closer, kneeling on the bed so he can pull it over your head.

as if, maybe he wants you to wear it.

you feel a little zing up your spine, wrapping your legs around his waist when he adjusts the string so it's more comfortable for you. his eyes go wide, hips falling forward until he's brushing against your core by accident, leaving you both a little breathless.

whatever patience you'd had before is whisked away when you feel how turned on he is, once your underwear clings against your skin with how wet you've unknowingly become.

"i bet you've been thinking about this," you whisper, heady, as you slowly grind up against him. "tying me up, all to yourself."

a sharp exhale leaves him, though he tries to close his mouth around it, cheeks burning as he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. "i-i thought—"

you nod, encouraging him with a breathy, "uh-huh?"

"i thought i didn't know you were a chick until now."

you stop, head dropping back to the bed as you stare at him.

well. shit. you did say that.

you shake your head, sighing when one of his hands closes around your hip to keep you moving. "okay, pretend you already knew." he nods his head, a little vigorously, before pressing you into the mattress, grinding against you with purpose now. the pressure is good enough that you feel your eyes lidding, a dull throb building where you're most sensitive. "i bet you've been thinking about punishing me all by yourself, dynamight."

it makes his face and neck burn, and katsuki has to squeeze his eyes shut once before dropping his elbows to the bed and leaning just barely over your lips. "yeah," is all he says, voice wavering.

you lean up to brush your nose against his, but you don't kiss him. "and how're you gonna do that?" he angles his hips, deliberately catching your clit when he ruts against you, and it draws the first, genuine moan from your lips. you think he can tell, because he grits his teeth and does it over and over. "are you gonna fuck me or what?"

katsuki just nods, quickly sitting back up on his knees so he can pull his shirt up over his head. it reminds you of what started this mission in the first place and you take in the sight of him, muscles taut with anticipation, his adonis belt that stems into the low band of his sweats.

"i've been thinking about it, too," you say, dragging your eyes up his body slow, so that he can watch your appreciation, "because you're so big and strong and power—"

he cuts you off with a firm kiss, digging a hand into your hair so that he can slant your head. when you gasp at the tug on your scalp, katsuki swirls his tongue with yours, slow and sweet, eliciting another soft moan that has him breathing in hard through his nose.

"damn woman," he grunts, sitting back up to yank at the zipper on your suit, cheeks burning when he eyes your lazy grin. "tryin' to fuckin' kill me."

you laugh. "on the contrary, dynamight, i'm actually—" katsuki pulls you into a sitting position, tugging your suit back over your shoulders until it hits your elbows.

and then you both look at each other.

"um," you swivel on the mattress just a bit, thinking; maybe wearing a one-piece jumpsuit wasn't a great idea, when being "bound" is involved, or you should have at least waited until he got you naked. "let's just pretend—"

"yeah, yeah," katsuki nods, scratching his head as you unwind your arms quickly and slip them through the sleeves, falling back over your hands as he tugs the whole thing down your thighs. your boots are still on, but he doesn't bother with those, just ducks under the bridge of clothing until he's against you again.

you squirm in your tiny, mesh underwear, a gasp echoing out of you when he mouths at the skin below your belly button, moving lower and lower until his tongue is meeting the thin material that separates you. this — wasn't part of the plan; you were expecting him to just shove his pants down and bully his way inside of you, which was fine for this scenario, but the wet glide of his tongue has you forgetting about everything except for how hot he's making you.

your back arches as the material begins to saturate — both from you and him — and you moan, growing needy for more; his mouth on you feels amazing as always, but your underwear, the partition between you, are already starting to grate on your nerves. katsuki must know because he can read you so well, and he hooks his fingers around the thin mesh before yanking that out of his way, too.

"fuck," you gasp, hips jerking when his tongue swipes against your swollen bud, and you let out another whiny noise when he closes his lips around it. you feel — soaked, but gilded, trying to catch the breath he keeps pulling from you.

both his hands come up to stroke over your hip bones, holding you down as you tremble, pulling you close so that his nose drags against you, too. the added pressure makes you shudder and your head falls back to the mattress as his messy kiss coils something tighter and tighter in your belly.

"katsuki," you moan, wanton, and rip your hand from underneath your back to fist a handful of his hair, legs closing around his head as his tongue slips inside of you. "fuck, 'm—"

the strain against his scalp makes him groan, open-mouthed, and you try to remind yourself to take note of that, but the vibration of the sound leaves you quivering. your hips move of their own accord, bucking up against the flat of his tongue as you feel the warmth dripping down your spine, as your toes begin to curl, as your mind goes blank.

and then he's pulling away from you all too soon, surging up to plant a wet, heady kiss to your lips, to share the essence that's still sweet in his mouth. he's panting into you, one of his hands palming roughly at your breast while the other reaches back to rip one of your boots off.

you maybe shouldn't have tied them so seriously, because it takes him a few horrible moments before he can get the laces loose enough to tug off your foot, pulling the rest of the jumpsuit down one leg.

"you're," he breathes, hands going back to your hips to grip them firmly. "supposed to be tied up."

katsuki flips you onto your stomach, pulling you to the edge of the bed, on your knees so that he can run a hand up your back. gently, he toys with you; testing different pressures around your neck, tugging at your hair again, wrapping his hand back around both your own.

when you feel the thick weight of him tap against your swollen slit, you cry out softly into the mattress, wiggling your hips back with all your impatience. he runs his length against you, coating himself before teasing at your entrance, and then he hesitates again; as if he's trying to say something, you hear the open and close of his mouth several times before he just swallows, shaking his head before he begins to sink into you.

the stretch has your eyes rolling back in your head, mouth falling open silently as his strained groan fills the room. the sound is music to your ears, and you could almost laugh at how worried you were before all this — if he wasn't seating himself so deep inside of you, making you moan against the sheets.

katsuki hisses out a string of curse words, free hand going to the dip of your waist to pull you back to meet his rough and unsteady thrusts. there's almost no rhythm and he seems to lose it as soon as he finds it, and that paired with how roughly he's breathing is enough to send you over the edge.

it's like he's — desperate, too frenzied to think straight.

you try to muffle your embarrassing whine into the mattress as your thighs shake, as he continuously hits that spot inside of you that brings tears to your eyes. it doesn't deter him in the slightest, only encourages him to fuck you through your orgasm as you scramble a bit on your knees, overwhelmed by the sounds the both of you are making.

it dawns on you distantly, as you come through the haze, that he's actually enjoying this, keeping a firm grip around your hands so that you can't escape. you feel euphoric, elevated to a new high as all your nerves sing.

your throat is dry and you have to swallow several times before you can speak, stuttering, from how hard he's pounding into you. "d'you like this? fucking the—oh—villain you've caught?"

it makes him still, just for a moment, as he runs his hand up your back again, adding pressure just between your shoulder blades and groaning before returning to your hip. "i think you, hah, fuckin' like this," katsuki breathes, grip tightening to a painful degree before he slams into you again, making your toes curl. "getting f-fucked by the hero."

hearing him play along makes your stomach flip, has a drizzle of warm honey spreading up your spine, just like before, as you squirm again under his hands. you feel warm, almost numb to anything except for the weight of him behind you, the pleasure that never stops throbbing between your legs.

you squeal when he angles himself particularly deep, though the sound is nearly drowned entirely out by his groan, the low oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck he chants as his body goes taut and curls over yours. his thrusts grow shallow but never stop, as he cums so hard it almost sounds painful, and he finally takes his hand from both of yours to steady himself against the bed.

you both groan when he pulls out, katsuki falling down beside you on the mattress to catch his breath and blink slowly at the ceiling. he's so red, sweaty and worn out, and you watch him through bleary eyes for a long moment before realizing that he's purposely not looking at you.

it makes you laugh, light and lilted — which screws his face up — as you slump forward, eyes lidding as exhaustion coats you in a thin sheen.

"you're a pervert," katsuki finally mumbles, pushing his hair off his forehead before rubbing his eyes. when you laugh again, he glares at you, but doesn't move away as you shimmy closer.

"what can i say? i'm no match for big and strong dynamight—"

"cut that shit out," he groans, rolling over to bite at your cheek, bearing his weight down on you when you squeal.

"i'll never commit a crime again," you squirm when he pinches at your side, trying to hold on to your words through a fit of giggles. "your incredible hero cock has turned me—"

"you fucking—" he's quick to lean back and flip you over, cradling your face in his hands as he smashes his lips to yours — almost too eagerly.

"katsuki!" you shriek, wiggling beneath him helplessly as he tickles you. he pays you no mind, just continues trying to press kisses into your open mouth until tears are sprouting at your waterline from laughing so hard.

finally, you get reprieve as his hands slip up your body slowly, taking your wrists between his fingers so he can hold them together above your head. he presses his forehead to yours, eyes lidded and relaxed, with the ghost of a smirk on his face, and he murmurs, "it's dynamight to you, missy."

'cause i love the way you call me baby—

bakugou x reader

wc: 15.6k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, spicy situations (no smut), bakugou is like really bad at feelings, kirishima continues to be a well-meaning menace, angst, fluff, pro hero au

< < < part one |

7:32 A

Bakugou is always so subtly punctual.

By the time you gather the will to meet the chilly morning head on, he is already sitting in your parking lot. The black SUV is idling quietly and he isn't rolling down the window, urging you to hurry your ass up or honking like he'd threatened to at work only days ago. His eyes, much brighter than yours this early, are already on you—as they seem to always be, these days—and you swear it is the cold bite in the air that steals the breath from your lungs.

Though the warmth of your apartment is enticing, you give him a small wave (that he doesn’t return) before locking the door behind you. There is a thin layer of ice covering the short walkway in front of the complex and you strain your toes in your fuzzy boots while stepping carefully, though the effort not to make a fool of yourself is wasted; the pro hero waiting safely inside his vehicle laughs, loudly, when your foot slides across the ice, hands going to grip the rail along the sidewalk so tightly, you fear it'll yank loose from the stud.

It's the first thing you hear out of him, so early in the morning, his brash laughter. Despite the offense, the giggle that bubbles out of you, too, can't be helped.

"Thanks so much for the help, sir!" Is the first thing out of you upon yanking open the door and scrambling in, eager to bask in the warmth of his vehicle (and him).

Immediately, the mischievous glint in his eye dissipates. "Don't start with that crap."

Though you're well aware of what he means, you tilt your head curiously; early morning be damned, you can always find the will to tease your boss. "Crap, sir? I'm afraid I don't follow."

Bakugou throws his car in reverse and leans close, putting his arm around your seat as he backs out of the parking lot. The muscle in his cheek is jumping as he grits his teeth, drawing your eyes to the sharp cut of his jaw, and the scent of his cologne almost makes you sigh audibly. It smells expensive, like orchids and spice and comfort, and sleep is still so heavy upon you that it takes genuine effort not to sink forward to bury your face in his chest.

With his arm still around the seat, he glares down at you. "You clock in this morning?"

"No sir, but—"

"Bakugou." He barks, lips pulling back slightly, enough to show his canines, enough to show how serious he is.

A small smile graces you, one that cools the flickering heat in his red eyes, and you say, "Bakugou."

His gaze lingers for another moment, another thud of your heartbeat, before he shifts in his seat and begins to drive. "The hell are we going, anyway?"

Yukiko—the Sports Illustrated representative who will be interviewing Bakugou later—has already sent you the address of the diner she'd like to meet at. The printed out email is folded into the small backpack you'd brought along for the day, but the location has been typed into your phone so many times, it's well ingrained in your memory at this point. The navigation app in his expensive, massive car could easily guide him, but he lets you pull up Google Maps on your phone, let’s you tell him to take a left at the next stop sign, let's you direct him.

(The back up camera on the dash of the SUV could have also helped him get out of the parking lot; turning around, putting an arm behind your seat, leaning close had all been a choice.)

(It's still a young enough morning that you're embarrassed for already falling prey to this giddy, school-girl manner—as you always seem to do, these days—though it's safe to say this isn't anything new, not with Bakugou.)

The route offers a 45 minute drive and this acknowledgement is met with a disgruntled groan as you say it. There's a weighted, guilty part of you that feels bad again that you've dragged him to do this bullshit ass thing, though Bakugou does little more than huff and sigh; days ago, when you'd voiced the penitent nerves gnawing at you, he'd said (with red ears),

"I'm not forcing you, if you don't wanna go, don't."

and that hadn't been what you meant and that's what you told him, to which he replied (eyes on his monitor),

"Then cram it. We're goin'."

It almost feels like he's just waiting for you to say something, because he sends you fleeting little glances everytime he checks his rear view mirror, ready to cut you off at the first chance should you start that crap again. It takes all your strength to bite back a smile, to keep your hands and gaze on the phone.

Things with your boss have changed—subtly. There's this air that settles between the two of you now—different than before, when every thought you had ended in a question mark—and it's almost a little awkward, like at any moment something could come forth from either one of you and it would be somehow both unexpected and yet not entirely.

The lock on Red Riot’s door has been replaced, it's no longer a hassle to open (one less struggle in your morning); administrator privileges have been granted to you in order to change the schedule easier, quicker ("might as well have 'em, since you bother me about it all the damn time"); a single cup coffee maker appeared on your desk overnight.

Bakugou has asked you to lunch one time—"you hungry or what?"—and if you hadn't already eaten with Reverse, you would have indulged him (and yourself). That snub—and the unreadable look on his face—has haunted you more than once late at night, springing your eyes open as your brain worked through all the things he might have said during a meal with a friend and not under the guise of a work related afternoon.

Maybe he would have complimented you, trying to remain indifferent while admitting he thought you looked nice, or maybe the afternoon wouldn't have ended, extending into the evening, the two of you unable to fall back into a routine that—somewhere along the way—began to feel limited.

"Oi!" He snaps, and you jerk your eyes from your reverie, away from the window and back down to your phone.

"Oh, um, oh, shit," the heat of Bakugou's glare is scorching the skin of your face, "you need to change lanes, like, now."

"Are you fucking kidding me—" He leans completely away (another choice, one that has you grimacing to yourself) while looking behind him, probably breaking several traffic laws because of your absent-mindedness. "Gimme that!" One of his hands completely encompasses your own, warm fingers sliding between yours and the phone before he snatches it away.

"Sorry." The sheepish smile you send him goes wholly ignored. "Am I fired, sir, from navigating?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Bakugou spits, "you're the worst."

Maybe he would have held your hand or paid for your meal, but maybe he would have swatted at you for trying to steal from his plate. Maybe he would have insulted your taste in food, or chastised your less-than-healthy meal option.

You would have enjoyed it all the same.

—

8:36 A

There's a handful of things you know about the interview:

The topic at hand is hero life after graduating

Absolutely no questions about any past, present or future cases

Absolutely no personal questions, such as religious views, political opinions, or the intimate details of Dynamight's notoriously private love life

The whole interview will be video recorded and released on YouTube later—along with a few behind-the-scenes questions—in a few months

The photo shoot will take place at a separate location

The diner the company rented out is nice, decorated with neon lights and posters of American icons: Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, Martin Luther King Jr., and the like. It's a little tacky, you think, but cute.

Bakugou thinks it doesn't make any damn sense to have the interview here, considering it has nothing to do with hero work—his or any other in Japan. It’s a valid point; while you agree with the argument, there is a pink and white jukebox near the entrance that is just waiting for you to start throwing your paycheck its way.

"Would you rather it be at your apartment, or the office?"

It's gloomy out, skies a sleepy mixture of blue and gray, and the dim glow filtering through the windows compliments him; it's Bakugou in a different light, a tranquil one, as if the weather is any indication of his change in attitude from those feral U.A days.

"Fuck no," he grumbles, ever unrefined, slouching into the table as if it will swallow him up and deliver him from this personal hell of your own making.

Yukiko is a few minutes late—despite the two of you being a few minutes late—so you're sitting across from him, leaning forward so that neither of you have to speak loud or disrupt the morning lingering in the empty restaurant. There's a waitress behind the counter brewing a pot of coffee and you're tempted to ask for a cup.

"Then cram it, sir." The unstoppable smile that blooms is hidden behind your fist, trying in earnest to press your mouth against your palm so he won't detonate.

"Think you're real fucking funny, don't ya'?" His carmine eyes are impossibly small and, though the sight might have scared you at one point, all it does is roll your eyes to the window. When you look back at him, he's staring hard at your face; the annoyance is undeniable, but there's something lingering between the clench of his teeth.

His hands are resting on the table, only inches from yours, and the urge to reach out and touch him fills you so abruptly that even he notices the motion of your fingers.

But—like always, these days—the doors to the diner swing open and the sounds of technical equipment and cameras flashing tell you all you need to know without ever turning around.

"My hero!" Yukiko beams, though your boss visibly recoils.

The first thing you notice about her is how professionally stunning she is—and the second is the quick up-and-down scan Bakugou gives her.

With a poreless face and smile so bright you nearly need to squint, she greets the both of you in such a charming way, any frustration you'd held at her for being late is immediately soothed. Her hair is long and dark, thick, curled in a way that is meant to look effortless (and it does), falling near her collarbones where two dainty necklaces ornament her. The pantsuit she's wearing does wonders for her skin tone and you are reminded of your own slightly damp clothes, outfitted in a jacket that probably makes you look puffer than usual.

When she calls him Dynamight, he has the decency to nod once and grit out, "Bakugou."

Then she turns to you in the plastic, pink booth across from him and asks, "Mind if I sit here for the cameras? You look like you would enjoy a milkshake!"

Life isn't a competition, and Yukiko's overwhelming beauty and professionalism (and charm and fashion sense and cute laugh and manicured nails and fit figure) doesn't mean that you are any less than her, but the insecurity rising within you while sliding from the booth is remorseless. She looks like the type of person that's been cut from the pages of a magazine with a perfectly scripted personality and has been pasted over your own face in the image of you and Bakugou in the diner.

It's so ridiculous, you tell yourself over and over again, because it is, but she's known him all of seven minutes and already she's calling him by his name. You attempt to remind yourself that the seven months it had taken you were all by choice, but then Yukiko laughs when he insists his entire hero moniker be in the magazine and you’re pouting.

It's nine in the morning and you are drinking a milkshake at the counter, far out of the way of the camera, far out of the way of Dynamight and his little bubble.

Last night, as you were scrutinizing the directions to the diner fervently, you'd thought of a few different ways this day might go; feeling pitiful and drowning yourself in milk and ice cream was not a scenario you had considered.

Yukiko starts by asking him questions about the area, if he's familiar with it at all, and this dissolves into a small discussion about where he was born—Atami, near the sea (a fact you were unaware of)—though he moved to Musutafu when he was very young, due in part to his father's career.

Of course, nothing is as easy as your boss up and giving this information away; the representative is already beginning to look a little flustered at the thirty minutes it takes in order to obtain that much.

(An image is born into your imagination of baby Bakugou, diapered Dynamight, in tiny swim trunks by the ocean with a little, chubby tummy. It earns you a sharp glance when you laugh quietly at it, ruby eyes narrowed as if he knows.)

"I'll go where I'm needed." Is what he spits out, arms crossed, when Yukiko asks if he plans to stay in Musutafu for the rest of his life. The question takes a slight turn towards plans for a family and if he'll raise any children here, but his stubborn silence is enough of an answer.

That certainly wasn't an approved subject.

Another surge of guilt rises at how awkward he looks, more than uncomfortable with his shoulders up around his ears. You think he’d rather be at home, catching up on some rest—he surely deserves it—and the pit in your stomach deepens until she brings up the topic of that one day, with the sludge villain, and you think maybe not, afterall. Maybe he likes it this way, so far from the child he once was, so much stronger and different.

"I’m not worried about shit from way back then," he grunts, leaning a little further back in the booth, grasping for distance. "Thought you were supposed to be asking me about the present, how much 'm dominating the hero board right now."

Yukiko laughs—musical, pleasant, rehearsed—but Bakugou isn't joking. She spares the cameraman another look, something she's been doing frequently, and you assume it's an indication on where they'll need to cut certain footage.

One of the crewmen holding the lights pins you with an expectant look, as if you should perhaps be sheepish for his gruffness, but you just send the man a simple smile. You're not his handler; if Bakugou wants his own milkshake, you'll get him one, but you aren't here to school him on how to act, nor to ask for forgiveness either.

It makes you wonder if you've grown used to it all, being so close to the warmth of him. Nothing that he's said so far has taken you off guard or made you flinch, and you've even found yourself surprised at the look on the representative's face when her sculpted mask cracks. Maybe he's calloused you, gotten you used to the heat in which he constantly burns.

Something about that is comforting.

"It's almost intimidating, how fierce you are against competition, even when that competition is made up of heroes you graduated with—"

"My assist rate is nearly triple what it was last year."

"Hey," it’s not difficult to tell where she was going with her question and you definitely should not be hissing at him, but you can't help yourself. He looks at you almost instantly. "Stop interrupting."

The scowl he sends burns your face as if he'd touched it with his own hands, but he only grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to Yukiko. You may not apologize for him, but you'll definitely encourage him to mind his manners. Whatever surprise you think you might have seen on Yukiko's face is gone when you look at her, and she nods once in thanks.

If you let him walk all over you, he will, and you wonder if you should have warned her of that earlier. It's not like he means to, but he has the kind of innate confidence most people don't and sometimes it manifests as arrogance, but they should have known that, surely? Bakugou commands the attention of everyone when he steps into the room because his presence is massive, authoritative, the kind that villains cower in.

The kind that says I am here.

(or, I am here, you fucking bastard.)

"Does it ever bother you to hear that you are being likened to heroes like Endeavor or Snipe? The kind of men that leave certain people divided when it comes to their approach to heroism?"

“I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. They shouldn’t be comparin’ me in the first place.” Bakugou tightens his arms around his chest (you’re thankful he’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt, though it only masks the tension in his biceps in the most minute way) and casts you a quick glance, anticipating your reaction to what he says next. “You worry about the crap people say about you?”

Yukiko sits back a little in her seat and smiles—practiced, restrained—before clearing her throat. She doesn’t answer, only asks, "Does it ever bother you to be compared to Deku, who is projected to be the next Symbol of Peace?"

The diner goes so silent that everyone can hear Yukiko's jewelry clink as she shifts. So silent that everyone can hear you choke on your milkshake (you aren't spared a glance, though, because you are still outside the bubble).

All you can think is that if Bakugou was going to blow the place to hell, he would have done so by now. At a different time in his life, you assume he might have gone berserk and shit talked Deku until people were having to hold him down in the booth—but now he just stares across the table, thinking.

The representative seems unable to look away and shudders; you're glad you can't see the exact expression on his face, though one you have seen comes to mind: in the bright lights of the conference room, footage you shouldn’t have been privy to still casting a faded picture on the wall, an unpleasant, clammy hand on your lower back. The memory heats you, almost the same way it had that day, though it’s less embarrassed now and more fond as you take in the jut of his chin, the line of his sharp nose in the downcast morning light.

("My hero!")

"I ain't gonna talk about that damn Deku."

Even if she wanted more from him, even if she meant to rile him up for some kind of sales-boosting answer, Yukiko only nods and takes a long pause before turning to the cameraman. Her beaming smile is wavering the tiniest bit—something obvious to you because you’ve been obsessing over her this entire time. "Quick break?"

Bakugou is up and out of the booth, stalking towards the door before her face has time to flatten, and you take that as your cue. The sky is still the same dismal shade, even though you've been at the interview for nearly an hour, and it dampens one of the sunny scenarios you'd imagined for today.

The warpath doesn’t end once he’s outside, nearly ripping the car door off its hinges so he can climb in and slam it shut behind him. The silence is so tense that you try your best to follow quietly, closing your door gently just in case it will reignite him somehow. Bakugou doesn't say anything, just throws his head back against the seat and tries in earnest to glare a hole through the ceiling of the car.

You go through a number of different ways to ask if he’s alright (“are you okay?” or “you good, man?” or “is there anything I can do, sir?”) but you can already tell that all of them would just be met with grunted, ‘m fine. So you try to approach him a different way, the kind of way you would a friend that was upset, saying weightless things just to steal their mind from anything stressful.

“I didn’t know you were born in Atami.” Rain starts to lightly fall against the SUV. “That sounds nice—do you ever go back there?”

“You askin’ questions now too?” Bakugou shoots, but it leads without malice, without bite as he keeps his eyes fixed.

Turning your head to watch the rain, you murmur out a quiet “sorry”, pressing your lips together to stop them from betraying you by frowning. He’s upset, and you would be too; constantly shadowed by other heroes, even when the topic of Dynamight only—Bakugou himself—is assured; triggers written down, buttons pressed, waiting just outside the blast zone for a response that will provoke the stereotypical headlines that readers go berserk for. It’s not his fault. At the sound of your voice, his hair shifts against the headrest as he turns to look at you, quick, before sighing.

“We used to go a lot during the summer, but I haven’t been back in years.” His voice is mild, extinguished for the moment. “Don’t have the time.”

“We should go,” you say it urgently, without thinking, trying to cling to something that will lighten the mood. “In the summer when it’s nice. If we plan it out right, we can maybe write it off as a work thing.” The grin on your face is probably embarrassing, but you wiggle your eyebrows playfully.

Bakugou huffs out a laugh, unsmiling, before his own brows pull down as the words, and their meaning, settle in his ears. “Doesn’t hafta’ be a work thing.”

Neither of you have spoken about what happened that day. Neither of you have spoken about what would have happened if Kirishima hadn’t shown up.

For a nerve-wracking, paralyzing moment, as your sweaty toes begin to curl in their boots, it almost looks like he’s going to.

“Look, I don't know—fuck—this is so fucking—” Bakugou’s hands go to the steering wheel and he grips it, the leather making an audible noise as his fingers tighten. He refuses to face you—mouth slightly open, surprised even though you thought you wouldn’t be—and instead glares forward at the diner, as if it’s somehow Yukiko’s fault neither of you know how to talk about this, about It.

After a moment of prolonged silence, you swallow thickly and realize he isn’t continuing because Yukiko is, in fact, standing in the window, waving the both of you back inside. When you nod at her, she crosses her arms but walks away, and Bakugou sighs.

“I’m sorry.” It blurts out before it can be stopped. A little bit of anger is left in his eyes and he directs it straight at you. “I’m sorry you have to come here on your day off and do this thing that you can't stand.”

He’s certainly tired of hearing your guilt about this, that much you’re sure of, but the expression that washes over him still surprises you; completely unhappy, even more so by what you’ve said, and almost—hurt that you keep apologizing.

“You’re so—” with a grunt, he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, clearing it, before glaring at you. No, not glaring, not quite. Something softer. “You think I’m the kinda guy that does shit he doesn’t want to, idiot?”

“Bakugou, you hate this kind of stuff,” it sounds like you’re asking for absolution and it only makes things worse.

Bakugou just shakes his head again as if you aren’t understanding what he’s saying. Maybe you aren’t.

—

11:12 A

The first thing Yukiko says when the interview finally concludes is, “the company has already set up lunch at the arena, if we could all make our way there!”

And the first thing Bakugou says in response to this is, “as fucking if.”

But by this point, after struggling for two hours with him, she must be hardening up to his bark and bite, because she doesn’t say anything or try to stop him as he beelines for the exit. Which leaves you scrambling behind him, giving a half-bow to every disgruntled person you pass while muttering, “thank you, thank you so much, we had a great time, can’t wait to see the article”.

It’s finally stopped raining, but the sun is still hidden behind a wintery haze; there’s a chill inside his car, the kind that settles in unoccupied spaces (the kind that exists when Bakugou isn’t around). It seems to calm down your boss instantly—that, and the fact that all the questions are finally done.

“That wasn’t so bad!"

Near the end, Yukiko asked if Bakugou had any other plans for his future, if being a hero didn't work out somehow, and he looked between you and her, and then her and the camera, and then you and then her and then you and—

Then he said, "What kind of stupid fucking question is that?"

He's giving you that same look right now (bewildered, disbelieving, hassled). Still, you try to charm the expression off his face by smiling and telling him,

"You did great Bakugou, I'm proud of you!" It earns you a soft snort and relaxed, avoidant eyes. "Now, to the arena!"

"'m not eatin' at that place. Who knows what type'a tasteless shit they catered." He’s quick to catch you taking out your phone and snatches it away before you can unlock it. "I know where 'm going, I don't need you trying to kill us again."

An exaggerated pout works its way to your lips. "Aw, come on Bakugou, don't you trust me?"

He huffs but the use of his name doesn’t deter him, "I'm not gettin' a traffic ticket just because you've got your head up your ass."

Though you loathe to admit it, sighing comes easier now that the SUV is putting miles of distance between you and Yukiko. You're feeling a little more playful again, like the day is falling back into its usual routine, gearing up for one of the many scenarios you've imagined. The image of her figure in the pantsuit is still at the forefront of your mind, however, so you shuffle around until you can wiggle out of your puffy jacket. What you’re wearing isn’t anything as fashionable as her no-doubt expensive ensemble, but at least you’re less of a shapeless blob.

"I'll be good this time, promise." Impishly, you extend your pinky out towards him but he only grunts in response, shifting forward in his seat as he swallows—audibly. The movement allows his collarbones to peek out above the top of his shirt, growing your unfounded need to drag your fingers along them, maybe even your breath, maybe even your mouth.

The threat he mumbles goes unheard by you, but the baritone of his voice stops you from drooling like a pervert any longer.

Even he looks a bit more calm—jaw unclenched, shoulders back and rested, nostrils unflared—and his hand goes from the wheel to the gear shift between you. Long fingers cup it loosely, drumming against it as an afterthought, though the music he once had playing has been turned down low; on the ride over, you’d passed a towering, verdant dragon statue that could be seen from the highway and promptly squealed about it, reaching to tap his shoulder with urgency. The radio had quieted, his attention momentarily snapping to you before muttering “‘m driving,”.

Watching him now, Bakugou’s face relaxes further—the permanent crease between his eyebrows softens—and you wonder if he feels it, too, this effortless comfort that shrouds you.

From what you can tell, he's heading back towards Musutafu and it's only after about 20 minutes that you begin to genuinely wonder if he's decided to blow the whole day off, if he's sick of the questions and antagonizing, if he's speeding back to your icy parking lot to be rid of you—but then he's taking an exit, grumbling about slow drivers and old people, and turning down a street that definitely isn't yours.

It's a part of the outer city-skirts that you aren't all too familiar with, where the buildings are set too close together and the parking lots are too small, fitting six cars at most. Apartments look over thin alleys, fire escapes nearly creating a bridge between bedrooms. You pass a man sleeping next to the garbage, a family of stray cats, a blue rolling cart holding brown plants, a woman selling homemade crepes—everything about the area is intimate, and that realization has your stomach flipping.

Lunch with your boss, with Bakugou, for the second time; you find yourself both anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.

Bakugou circles a block twice before parking in a stray lot, grunting something about anyone daring to say shit to him while tucking the side mirrors of his car closer to the windows. No explanation is offered as to where the two of you are eating, but you don't miss the quick glance he gives your top, which makes you feel suddenly exposed and silly, as if he could read what you were thinking when you tossed your jacket to his backseat. There is a strange crease in the fabric near your tummy due to the seatbelt, and you throw it off and yourself out of the car so that he'll stop looking.

Before you can ask where he's going, he's turning down a thin alley ahead of you. It's nearly noon, but the day is so overcast, white-golden lanterns are still lit to guide the way past an izakaya that’s closed, a gentleman outside stacking empty Kirin cases on top of one another. There are two abandoned bikes, a sign leaning against a rusty ladder that advertises a shop for refurbished furniture and hand-stitched clothes. You can’t take a step without landing on a manhole, but the sewage smell is nearly drowned out by the fresh crepes—and something salty, too.

It's silent between the two of you, save for the rustling of a beaded curtain strung up in the middle of the alley as you pass through it. Bakugou holds it open for you to step under and then keeps a hand on your back, urging you forward, though you have no idea where.

Electrical wires criss-cross into a spider-web above your head, a strange sense of seclusion emanating from their disjointed design; other than the gentleman, you are the only two between the bricks. It feels like you are the only two in the world—far from Musutafu, far from Dynamight and Yukiko. Just you and Bakugou.

When you glance back up at him, he’s already watching you—as he always seems to be, these days—and his eyes are nearly orange in the lantern light, made up of something so entirely different than they had been in the diner.

"Kirishima Eijirou was your fellow classmate, is the co-owner of your agency, and has been a Pro Hero Partner of yours for sometime." Yukiko seemed to have a talent for not only segueing into question after question, but also wording them in a way that stoked Bakugou’s aggravation. "Would you say you have a hard time trusting other heroes, or even getting along with them?"

It's no secret that Dynamight has been controversial in the past, that people still look at him and see the wild beast of a child he once was, and though there is nothing you can do about it, it still gets under your skin to see him and his intricacies boiled down to misconceptions. Patience, understanding, you wanted to tell Yukiko, that’s all you need, though you can’t exactly imagine Bakugou would have appreciated you coming to his defense. More than likely, he would have protested you getting involved or making excuses: that much you know already, because you’re used to him.

You wonder if Yukiko, or anyone, would believe the way Dynamight—the explosion hero, number 5 on the hero board—looks in fond, untroubled moments like this one (half-lidded, citrine, peaceful).

Perhaps the only thing that can be done is be thankful, that they are reserved for you.

"Move it, dumbass," he murmurs, and the soft rasp of his voice makes you smile, draws his eyes—unashamed—to your lips.

(You want to tell him to finish it, what he started that day in his office. You want to tell him to kiss you.)

(You don't.)

There is a white neon sign that is lit up just ahead, though there isn't a name, only gyudon in black. It's the source of the salty smell and, when Bakugou reaches in front of you to shove the creaky door open, no one bats an eye at either of you. No one looks up as he comes in and no one says anything until he's chosen a booth at the back, near a large window that looks out into another cramped section of a street.

Winter peonies are hanging from a window box, blushing pink against the gray painted bricks of its apartment. You can see a stray shopping cart from a market out of sight, a handful of brightly colored signs (red, orange, black) advertising all manner of baked goods and beer, ready for the day to darken just a little more before coming to life. A woman carries her baby down a flight of stairs; a stack of books on the ground appear heavy, water-logged and forgotten near three tied trash bags; two boys in university sweaters take turns looking through a magazine, a half naked woman splayed across the cover.

(Just you and Bakugou.)

An older woman comes to the table offering water and tea, though she doesn't ask if or what type either of you would like before the clay pot in her hand thuds onto the wood. She leaves while muttering, “try the Jasmine Pearl”; your boss looks so unbothered by this, by her, that you come to the conclusion he must have come here before, maybe many times.

And maybe Bakugou knows you, too, because he says, “The owner’s kid almost died in a train crash a few years back, before I was—” he trails off while gesturing to himself sarcastically, but you know what he means: before he was Dynamight. It’s all said without looking at you, eyes on the flowers, the books, snorting when he sees the magazine. “I wasn’t looking for anything in return, that ain’t the point of this shit, but the old hag wouldn’t leave me alone until I ate at her place. Food's decent.”

A grin works its way onto your face, earning a glance from the corner of his eye. “So, you took me out for a free meal, huh? Cheap date.”

Bakugou’s eyes zero in on you as a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, and you realize too late where you've gone horribly wrong. "Date?" He asks, hands clasping together atop the table as he leans across it, closer to you, "Who said this was a date?"

Now it's your turn to look elsewhere: the ceiling, the teapot, the signs (red, orange, black). "Well, um, lunch date, as in, just having lunch together. Like—you know, between colleagues, sir."

"Colleagues, huh?" The curl of his lips is sinister, too-sharp, has tea slipping down the wrong pipe in your throat and heating your entire body to a similar, boiling temperature. Some jealous part of you sings; Yukiko witnessed quite a few looks from your boss today, but she hadn't been graced with this one. "'s'that why you got all pouty about whatshername?"

Pouty?

"Pouty?" You gasp, jaw falling slack as your hands curl into fists on the table. It's as if he can see right through you, can read what you're thinking, as if you’re not the only one paying too much attention in all this time at the agency. "I was not pouty."

(You definitely were and you know it, which makes the accusation all the more worse.)

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he smirks, gently flicking one of your knuckles as you narrow your eyes at him. "Never seen you give me that look before."

You pause in the middle of sipping your water to stick your tongue out at him, unable to stop from grinning when he snickers. Amusement is an unseen string tying you together; it's impossible not to smile when he does.

He continues, though you aren't sure where he's leading the conversation, eyes flicking to the door, out the window, at his fingers brushing yours. If you didn't know any better you would say he almost looks— "and you've given me plenty in the last eight months."

Looks, he means, and it takes a moment to recover. Plenty of looks? No, if anyone is giving looks, it's him, not you. It's Bakugou with those eyes, orange and fox-like, watching you squirm like he's caught you in his trap, ripe for the taking.

(That analogy does little to settle your still flipping stomach.)

"What do you mean by that?"

It's a talent, how quickly his eyes can change, how they can go from desirous to unreadable in an instant. A part of you wonders if that's all Dynamight, a skill he's acquired since being forced into the public eye—but a part of you believes that's him, Bakugou, too accustomed to shielding his emotions.

"I mean they aren't the kind y'give a colleague."

An air duct rattles brokenly; birds land near the window; a group of school girls laugh without regard, standing together to peer at something on a phone (too close, you and Bakugou, anxious and willing, for whatever comes next).

"And what do they look like?" There are warning sirens going off in your head, vigilant in their duty to remind you of the line you’re knowingly crossing. Regardless, you unwind your fist, curl a finger around his. "Why don't you show me?"

Bakugou's eyebrows draw down, making him look pinched and offended—though you're used to that look, to him, and you know that's not how he really feels—and then the two of you are in the car outside the diner all over again, ready to talk about It.

But a shadow comes over the window, two palms flattening against the glass as the birds—and your intertwined fingers—scatter. It's the shadow of a man too large, too friendly, too red.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

"Red Riot!" The sight of him is so unexpected that the grin that paints you is entirely genuine, and you wave at him, laughing too loud for this compact, secret place when he presses his nose up against the glass. He waves back at you, then Bakugou, before dashing around the corner.

The door kicks open so fast that it bounces off the wall, jingling all the while, and that does earn Kirishima a few glares, which he meets with a sheepish wave. When his eyes land on you in the back corner, an expression so utterly smug and satisfied comes across his face that Bakugou lets out an incensed sound, signaling his impending implosion.

"Well, well, well, what do we have—"

"What. The fuck. Are you doing here." It sounds less like a question and more like a demand, as if Bakugou isn't really worried about the how or the why; he just wants Kirishima to answer so the response will stoke the fire currently flaring to life.

"I could ask you the same thing." Red Riot beams, trying to squeeze into the booth beside his partner, though the blonde doesn't budge. He almost looks like a feral cat, arching his back the closer his colleague gets. "C'mon man, this is the spot, we eat here all the time."

"Oh, do you?" At the sound of your question, Kirishima flashes you a knowing grin, though you aren’t sure what he’s so certain of: that Dynamight would bring you to this pace, or that he’d been jumpy about it. Bakugou’s neck turns the color of his eyes—which are far from orange and back to their usual blood-red hue.

The realization that he’s brought you here, to the spot, softens you considerably; allowing you into this cramped little space, behind a beaded curtain, across from a dingy apartment complex twenty minutes out of town, nestled into a web of privacy. It means something to him and Kirishima, which means something to you.

At the sight of him now, there in front of you, you're reminded of your previous conversation with the red head, how you'd argued that they didn't need your friendship, had never asked for it—and they still haven't, just placed you inside the bubble quietly, tenderly, without so much as a second thought.

"Kirishima," Bakugou grits out, and the sound of his actual name and not Shitty Hair surprises you (and the man in question), "you're supposed to be on patrol."

"I am!" Red Riot's voice goes up a defensive octave, holding out his arms and gesturing to his hero outfit. The look he sends you resembles one Dynamight had in the diner—like he doesn’t understand the charge against him—and your heart tightens without warning; they’ve been together so long, Pro Hero Partners for some time, and it shows in the finer details.

"Then why the fuck. Are you—"

"I was in the area, man, thought I'd scope this place out before lunch. Then I saw you two," he grins again, which is always the worst thing he could do in this situation, "and thought I would check on how things are going, you know, between you lovebirds—"

"Don't even—this is just a stupid fucking work thing." The finger he points is menacing; you're surprised he's not sparking. "Don't fucking say shit like that."

(And then your bubble pops.)

Bakugou is downright snarling, less like a hungry fox or feral cat and more like a rabid dog, and you can't stop the embarrassment flooding you as it comes crashing down that this abrupt change of pace is simply because Kirishima thought you two were on a—

—date—

—together as anything other than colleagues.

An instinctive voice inside your head pipes up to defend him from, well, yourself, that he's only being so vehement in his denial because he's embarrassed at falling prey to his partner’s teasing, but the immediate part of you, the emotional part, bites her lip to stop from frowning. You do the opposite—smile casually—though you can feel how forced it must be, like it doesn't fit on the curve of your lips in the moment. It must be obvious, you think, it must be.

"It's a work thing," you echo, nodding once (and you don't miss the hot look Dynamight slices you with).

Doesn't matter; Kirishima laughs slowly and winks, as if the three of you are all in on some secret joke, as if he knows Bakugou too well. "Of course, definitely! Work thing. I'll make sure to mention that to Mina later when I—"

"You aren't gonna say shit about this, unless you want me to tear you a new one." Bakugou's eyes widen a frightening amount, palm slapping against the table as he nearly upends it. Kirishima remains unphased and it makes you think of Yukiko again, of how indifferent you were to some of his answers.

(“In the past, it’s taken more than a little elbow grease to obtain an interview with you, despite being a household name. Do you find you struggle with the newfound fame of being such a public, top-ten hero? I don’t think it’s a secret that Dynamight likes his privacy.”

“I don’t have time for shit like this because I’m busy doing my job. I don’t know what else anyone wants from me, why they care how long I spend at the gym or what my beer of choice is. I save the fucking day and then I go home, what I do there isn’t their business.”

“...so you do struggle with being in the spotlight so frequently?”

“I don’t struggle with anything, because I ain't the one that’s bothered!”

Yukiko had, in fact, looked bothered, especially when you snorted and rolled your eyes at him, especially when he peered back to make an exasperated face at you, shaking his head like he didn’t understand how he wasn’t making sense.)

And that hurts, you can't lie, with how mortified your boss is at the prospect of anyone knowing you two are together, even during a work thing. It's ridiculous, but you have to blink once, and then twice suddenly, because you can't stop thinking about the up-and-down look he gave Yukiko, how well put together she seemed.

It's not as if you are neurotic enough to believe it was love at first sight, or that he's even minimally interested in her—by the end of morning, actually, you were almost certain he wouldn't have offered her a glass of water were she to spontaneously combust—but she was so chic and elegant. She probably knew 6 different languages and drove a car priced in the same range as his SUV, she had innate charm and structure, business aptitude, she was wildly impressive.

If even she couldn't entice him, then who could?

It's ridiculous. You're being ridiculous because he's your boss.

Before you're forced to try and interrupt the unhinged hissing going back and forth between your employers, the older woman returns and quiets both of them with a single look. Kirishima gives a shy smile and steps out of the way, far out of her way, and Bakugou sits back down, muttering out to her that yes, he would like two bowls of gyudon with kimchi (like always). There’s a story here, maybe many; suddenly bitter, you wonder if you could ever be authorized to hear them.

(You haven't even had time to think about what you want, but there's a yellowed, dimly lit menu on the wall and your eyes catch on chicken curry, so you repeat that and she's off again.)

The first thing Bakugou says to his partner then is, "would you get. The hell. Out of here."

(Again—it's not so much a question.)

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint—" (Dynamight growls his disagreement) "—don't wanna interrupt you two like last time, so feel free to start the smooching once—"

Kirishima cracks up when Bakugou shoots from the table, though a flash of something like panic smears out his smile. Even when he puts his hands up and starts backing towards the door, babbling all the while, your boss doesn't stop following him, palms curled the way they are when he's gonna blow something straight to hell, and he doesn't refrain from advancing until Kirishima is bumping into the door, scrambling to get it open.

And he still doesn't stop until they are both back out in the alley, for a long time.

The food arrives, the woman looking at you for the first time as she asks, "he ditch you?" When you tell her he hasn't—that you know of; maybe he did?—she mutters, "little punk" before stalking away. You wish she would have stayed to hear you agree, but you dig into the food to stop the pit deepening in your stomach.

Quietly, you go to war with yourself, arguing that it was Bakugou who had his hand on your neck and it was Bakugou with his eyes on your lips and it was your boss who insisted you call him Bakugou.

And it was Bakugou who was embarrassed by this, by you and your stupid little work thing.

You miss the jingle of the door when he returns, only offering your attention as he slumps back into the booth, red-faced. He doesn’t acknowledge you, only splits his chopsticks and stares at the still simmering bowls of food while holding his breath, before tossing the utensils on the table, wood clattering lowly as he shoves his fingers in his eyes. They dig forcefully into the muscles, as if he’s trying to stop a headache that won’t quit.

“Everything okay, sir?”

He looks stressed, more-than; another wave of guilt wracks you, though it’s hard to determine where it’s building from this time. The truth is out: he does hate this bullshit ass type of thing, and you wonder why he tried to insist he doesn’t; he should know that you know by now.

Bakugou's hand drops from his eyes to his mouth, where he pulls at his lips absentmindedly. Underneath the table, his knee won't stop jerking, just like how the fingers on his other hand won't stop drumming against the table; he's thinking, too hard.

If life were a scenario of your brain’s creation, you think he would lean across the table and take your hand fully, but instead he just kicks you lightly to get your attention. It’s so on brand for him, so Bakugou, that you realize instantly where your imagination was wrong and dare to smile, tucking your chin down to hide it.

Your boss is not smiling. "You—he's a fucking—" his struggle is almost painful, and you can feel the tug and pull of the words he wants to say and the words that are leaving his mouth. "Y’know what I meant, right?"

And it's not so much a question as it is a plea.

Yukiko calls three times before Bakugou digs into his second bowl.

—

12:24 P

The first two attempts go ignored, mainly due to the horrendous glare he gives both the phone and your hand, frozen mid-air, before he snatches it from you during the third call. He doesn't even bother with a greeting, just grunts "yeah, yeah, we're comin'," and then proceeds to eat faster than you've ever seen a human eat anything.

Some inane side of you has half a mind to bring your chopsticks together near your mouth and ask, "How many calories do you consume in a single day, Dynamight? Fans everywhere want to know," but things are still intensely awkward, made even worse now that you’re pressed for time, so you store that little funny away for later.

Later; all of your exciting scenarios have washed away with the returning rain and you'd like nothing more than to go back to the office, to return to the space with Bakugou, with Dynamight, that you know best. The ground is too unstable, shaking as easily as your breath every time he meets your eyes. It's a lot to handle, more than you expected, and that—like all things, these days—only brings back the guilt.

The entire drive back is quiet, save for a few vexed sighs, and he listens to the navigation guide in his car as you pick mindlessly at your cuticles; it feels like something's been ruined, and the silence makes you sadder than you expected, puts something in your throat that’s hard to swallow.

Sports Illustrated has rented out a stadium, one that's equipped to deal with any stray explosions that could bring about the savage cover shot they're looking for. It has a sleek and shiny gym, one prepared for an entire rugby team—which may or may not equal Bakugou and his immense presence—, a locker room, and even a small conference area that's been set up to look like a U.A classroom.

("Thought this was supposed to be about me now, not back then."

"It is," you said, standing in his office, reading from the itinerary Yukiko had forwarded. "How different you are.")

Freshly powdered and matte, she's waiting just inside the doors, looking appropriately in place against the gray-slate tiles and smile-white walls. "Welcome back to high school!"

Ahead of you, Bakugou grumbles, "fucking great."

"The makeup trailer is just down in the hall, so we can head that way! We'll start with the gym first, and then move to the 'classroom'." Just as you begin to follow him, she produces a lanyard with a plain white badge reading visitor and extends it out to you. "Just in case anyone says anything." She assures, back to beaming.

Bakugou rears his head as if she's attempted to slap him. "Who's sayin' something? She's with me."

"Oh, no, no!" Yukiko waves her hands urgently, trying to put out the fire before it starts. "Just in case!"

"Just in case what—"

"It's fine." You say, Miss Customer Service™, "I get it, it's fine." Bakugou is frowning when you look up at him, though you slip the cord over your head and flash him your best reassuring smile. Yukiko is given a warning glance, one that says this isn’t over with just his eyes before he’s stalking away.

You hope she’s not able to read that look.

It looks strange so empty, the arena, and your brain likens it to a carcass: the walls feel hollow and massive, the concrete echoing back every noise you tentatively make; you’re afraid to think too hard in case that, too, will reverberate. It’s entire design was born with thousands of people in mind, but it is just you three under a never-ending stream of LED screens, banners of sports teams COMING SOON!, closed coiling doors, blocking the advertisement of takoyaki, yakisoba and cold beer, syrupy kakigori. Bakugou eyes the portraits lining the walls, black and white candid shots of fans cheering wildly, and you don’t realize he’s slowing down until he’s right beside you.

Very vaguely, you remember the U.A Sports Festival, maybe had it on as background noise at a friend's house while chatting amongst yourselves, oblivious and uncaring to the quirk-blessed people that were using their talents to the fullest. It dawns on you how strange it is to be here, beside Bakugou, how far both of you have come. Any clear images from the three festivals he had been in are all recent, only replayed on your laptop after he'd become a household name, after he became your boss, after he started meaning something.

In an eight minute video you'd watched titled dynamight being dynamight, you remember his sixteen-year-old self standing at the microphone, saying something about winning that made every one of his peers furious, and it's just so him that you're forced to throw an elbow, smile and shake your head when he asks what your deal is

Hands shoved into the pockets of his loose, dark jeans, he elbows you back lightly. "Don't fuckin' laugh at me."

"Don't be so funny."

"Don't be so easy to amuse."

"Don't be such a child."

"Me?" The look he gives you is bewildered, though the rigidness of his eyes has melted. Muttering another threat under his breath, he leans against your arm like he's going to push you again, but he doesn't, he just stays. One of his hands comes out to gently flick the plastic badge, making a face at it like its very existence is an insult, and he looks away when it lands back against your chest, when you snort at his impudence.

"Nobody will question you," Yukiko affirms, smiling softly when you both glance back. You’d almost forgotten about her, embarrassingly enough, and she looks between you two and the lanyard before rolling her eyes, waving her hand like the idea of it is silly—even if she’d been the one to produce it. "Trust me."

The expression on her face reminds you so frighteningly of Kirishima’s, like she knows something you don't, and it only winds you up even further as Bakugou is ushered away into another exclusive bubble. Her heels click pleasantly against the concrete, between just the two of you, leading the way through a small twist of tunnels impossible to navigate without her. The floral scent of her perfume is intoxicating, filling up every cramped area she enters, and you’re ashamed that you can’t stop inhaling through your nose.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she says suddenly and offense is a reflex that rips through you, wanting to remind her that you two met hours ago, but you become distracted by the texture of her skin, more obvious now that she’s so close to you. How human; gorgeous, stunning, daunting—but perhaps not as high on the pedestal as you had placed her. "We've been emailing for a few months now."

"Oh," you blink, dumbfounded, "yeah, I guess we have."

"I meant what I said,” Yukiko stops and holds her hand out, letting you go ahead of her in the direction she's leading you. "It's easier to outrun Ingenium than it is to get an interview with Dynamight, so we have you to thank for setting this up."

"Oh," you parrot, then, quickly, before she thinks it's all you know how to say, "no, I mean, I was just as surprised that he agreed. Dynamight, uh—" she laughs at the sheepish smile you give her, "he hates these things."

"Does he? I couldn't tell." She makes such a cute face that you might have been jealous if you weren't laughing with her. It's less awkward than you might have expected it to be hours ago, less forced, and a feminist, eat-the-patriarchy side of you is immensely disappointed in yourself. "Well, we, the company, are blessed he has you to influence him."

Another dumb blink; you make a disbelieving face to yourself before looking down at your fingers. "I wouldn't say I influence him, maybe know how to wear him down, but,” you trail off as she laughs again, shrugging.

Of course you do, know exactly how to bother him, how to bug him and push every button that will set him alight; you almost want to tell her it’s in your job description to understand exactly how to get away with harassing Dynamight—and keeping your head.

Yukiko leans against your shoulder with the same sentiment Bakugou had, though you can feel the stark differences between her arm and his. “I think he’s lucky to have someone that understands him to such an extent. It’s very rare to have assistants that can accept people as they are, behind their hero persona. I'm sure you might be aware of that, though, working with others in the business.”

Around the corner is a set of large glass doors that she steps up to open, once again gesturing for you to enter, and you want to tell her to back-up, to rewind a minute or two. The gym is just as you imagined: spacious, set up for industrial sized workouts, stock full of equipment and weights that look as if they could snap your back in half, were you unable to work with them properly. The fluorescence—and the light boxes and white sheets and reflective umbrellas—confound you long enough that Yukiko whisks away further into the room, up to the cameramen from the diner and a new gentleman, one you easily conclude will be the photographer for the day.

By the time you regain your composure—and close your mouth—Bakugou is entering, cementing you to your spot, withdrawn from the attention behind a treadmill that sits taller than your head. Nerves begin to take flight in your stomach at the sight of him; upon first glance, he doesn’t seem any different than usual, handsome as ever, but then you notice how dark and long his eyelashes look, the light contour under his cheekbones erasing what little roundness there is to his rarely-seen stoic face. He looks all Dynamight: sharp angles and jutting edges, dangerously keen, ineffable.

With all the attentiveness of an enlisted serviceman, he scans each corner of the room until he lands on you, small and out of the way, and you give him a small wave (one he doesn’t return). It looks like he’s got something to say, something serious, something important, judging by the sincere expression on his face. It’s tired, worn-down, though not in the way you imagine it is when he’s had a long day of hero-ing; it reminds you of the look on his face that day in his office, when the both of you had finally let go of whatever was keeping you back, when you’d finally crossed a boundary together.

It’s longing, you realize, that look.

“—so, I think it will be best to get a few warm up shots, maybe just doing some light stretching.”

Shamefully, you realize you’ve missed the photographer’s name and are somewhat relieved he hasn’t acknowledged you outside the bubble; the idea of having to ask him to repeat it makes you want to sink into the floor, to be dragged down by the weights the size of your head.

Bakugou jumps on his feet a few times—sporting a pair of bright orange kicks—before extending his arms to the ceiling, bending them behind his back, rotating his shoulders in some deliberate way that looks almost painful. Yukiko comes to stand beside you then, unnerving you with that look on her face, and she only grins before asking, loudly,

“He looks great, don’t you think?”

He glances back at you lazily, eyes—which have darkened—trained on your face, and you begin to realize that he does, he does look great.

He looks—immaculate.

The pair of compression tights he’s wearing only highlight how strong his thighs must be and his legs seem unending, long and powerful underneath the black fabric. A loose, orange tank is covering his torso and, though you hadn’t thought much of it at first, it becomes apparent to you why it seems so slack on him: in all the places it would hug the average man, Bakugou’s body is tight, muscular, rigid. His shoulders are capped and you can see the curve of his traps due to how thin the straps of his top are, the tension in his biceps as he just stands, relaxed.

Oh my god, you think, horrified. You’ll have to wait there for the next two hours—maybe three—watching as he builds up a sweat, as he works out and grunts with effort and pants and—

“Uh, y-yeah,” the attempt to clear your throat only makes you choke, has your voice coming out as a pathetic squeak, “he—you look, yeah, great.”

The hungry sheen that will gloss over his eyes; the curve of his cheek with the smirk that rattles your knees; the poorly disguised want in his voice as he teases and taunts your revealing choice of words; any minute now he’ll spark to life, sweetheart on his tongue, taking note of the sweaty palms you run across your thighs—

But it never comes.

Instead his eyebrows pull down in that Bakugou way, jaw and fist clenching in tandem as his breathing changes, deepens, giving you that same up-and-down look that bothered you earlier. Now that it’s directed at you and not Yukiko, however, it has a different meaning, riles you up in an eager, impure way. Nothing else is said as he turns towards the weight rack, but the muscle in his cheek doesn’t release and his leg doesn’t stop bouncing until the photographer is kneeling on the floor to get a shot of him curling a dumbbell.

The ceiling becomes extremely interesting then and you spend the camera flashes and the “ooooh, great shot, just like that,”’s admiring the tiles above everyone, all 27, 28, 29, 30 of them. There aren’t any cuticles left on either of your hands by the time Bakugou sniffs, drops the weights to the floor with a sound that demands your attention—unfortunately; the photographer, bless him, whatever his name is, gets a wonderful shot of your boss’s abs as he uses the bottom of the tank to wipe the perspiration above his lip, over his eyebrows, down his neck.

You’re sure there’s a great shot of the white-blonde trail of hair leading from his belly button down into his shorts, because that becomes all too visible, too.

Oh my god, you think, horrified.

Or you think, you think; you actually say it, feeling sweat pool in all the uncomfortable spots against your skin when you realize everyone is looking at you, everyone; Bakugou’s eyebrows are raised expectantly, waiting for you to continue as he works his jaw.

“I have your headphones,” you say idiotically, as if that warrants the carnal thoughts digging through your brain, swiveling your backpack to hang in front of you for emphasis. “I—can he—does he want them? Or—I mean, do you, sir?”

Yukiko frowns apologetically, “I’m sorry, that would be like product placement and only certain brands were approved for the shoot.”

His eyes—dark, deep and dark—bounce between the two of you before he shrugs, “whatever, s’fine.”

“‘kay!” Synapses momentarily defecting, you give him a thumbs-up, smiling so hard that it hurts, until he snorts and turns around to rack the barbell.

Once again, Yukiko leans into you, flowery and smiling, and when she winks, you’re astounded by the sharp turn this situation has suddenly taken. It feels like only minutes ago you and Bakugou were eating in tense silence, too self-conscious to even look up from the designs of your plate. It feels like only minutes ago he was glaring at the badge around your neck, averting his eyes from your chest, elbowing you.

It feels like only minutes ago Yukiko was implying you were intertwined with Bakugou in some way no one else was.

I think he’s lucky to have someone that understands him to such an extent.

Understands him? No, you can hardly say that you do, why he works 100 hours a week, why he comes to the office early and stays late, why he won’t call Deku back, why he doesn’t find the time to go to Atami anymore.

Why going with you doesn’t have to be a work thing, but this does.

You don’t understand why he wants you to call him Bakugou, or why he cares if you still want to go to Backdraft’s charity event, why he tells you not to take the late train or why he gets mad if you work through lunch. You don’t understand what the hell any of this is, why he knows the kind of looks you give him and leans against you and says things like, “she’s with me”.

But you think he might understand you, to some extent.

Since you’ve known him, he’s always been too clever for his own good, too perceptive; he knows why you’re being pouty about Yukiko, notices when you shuck your jacket off, he had the locks changed on Kirishima’s door, though you’d never spoken a word to him about the effort it took to get inside, Bakugou knows—in the dark, lights off, during a meeting—when some cop has their hands around your wrist or resting on your back.

And he must know what you’re thinking, then, here, now, because he’s sitting on the bench, sweating, chest heaving, looking at you like—

—like he’s had enough, like he’s fed up with all the back and forth, the tug and pull. The looks, dancing around It, Kirishima and his hero sense, his precise timing. And you think you’ve had enough, too. You think you're anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.

“Alright, we have some good shots in here. Back to the makeup trailer, and then we can revisit U.A!”

It’s all been undone wordlessly, the ties holding you back, the wall you’ve both tried to build, and Bakugou stalks by you, eyeing you like the fox he is, like you’re the mouse caught in his trap. Before he’s fully out into the hall, he’s already pulling the tank up and over the expanse of his back and you have to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, because he knows; broader than you ever realized, embellished with pale scars, shoulders steady enough to hold the weight of Japan.

“Come on,” there’s a light hand at your elbow, manicured nails digging lightly into your sleeve as Yukiko tugs you from your trance. “I think you’ll enjoy the classroom set up.”

The corridors twist and turn again, your floral guide leading the way as she talks aimlessly about how many reps Bakugou can do—a secret she will keep to herself and away from the public, she promises with another wink. She’s kind and funny, easy to socialize with, good at making conversation; these recognitions are met with more compassion, more relief than jealousy.

As pointed as some of her questions may have seemed during the interview, it feels as if Bakugou is in good hands, that she won’t twist his words to make him out to be a jackass or a villain or someone the people shouldn’t look up to. All of her little glances to the cameraman; hopefully those footage cuts will be handled with care. You want to trust they will.

“He’s a natural, I’m surprised.” She comments, “He photographs very well.”

Not that you’ve spent any certain amount of time looking at Dynamight promo shots, but you’ve no reason to believe anything otherwise. “He’s beautiful, I think anyone would be hard pressed to get a bad photo from him.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re clapping a hand over it, trying belatedly to slap them back between your lips.

This little confession is met uneventfully, Yukiko only sparing you a glance at the sound before continuing down the concrete. She’s an angel, you realize, a god-send. “I suppose that’s a good point, Nakano has to spend at least 20 minutes with me in order to get a good headshot.” Another admission that makes her seem less superior. “It helps that he’s confident. Anyone would be, with a body like that.”

“Yeah,” you hum, noncommittal, eager to get as far away from this topic as possible.

The doors she opens are steel, painted white, and—though you’ve never been in a U.A classroom—it looks exactly as you would expect. Desks organized in four rows of five, cupboard at the back, a green sheet on the wall that Yukiko says will be edited to look like the field outside the school, a wide chalkboard that has DYNAMIGHT in an explosive font that’s meant to look hand-written.

(You want to tell Yukiko, and the others entering the room, that Bakugou has nice penmanship, better than what’s displayed on the board, if that’s meant to be “his”. It’s not any kind of cursive calligraphy, but his is neat, clean, professional.)

(Suddenly you want to tell Yukiko a few things, that Bakugou is confident, that he’ll walk all over you if you let him, but you want her to understand that he’s considerate, thoughtful in a way that the public could never comprehend. You want to tell her that he means well, that he tries in all the ways he knows how, that he asks questions that aren’t so much questions as they are pleas, you want her to understand he doesn’t do shit he doesn’t want to do.

You want to tell her that he’s made you accustomed to the heat in which he constantly burns, that his fingertips have left marks on the back of your neck, that he’s calloused you.)

And it must be written all over your face, these unsaid things that are bursting at your seams, because she smiles the same soft smile she had before you and Bakugou parted, like she understands, like she knows. A manicured hand squeezes your shoulder and then she’s exposing to you the purposeful look she gives the cameraman from the diner, a look so familiar, so pained and open you have to gasp. There’s a ring around his finger, you realize, but not around hers.

“Yukiko,—” you breathe, though there isn’t anything else that comes from you, there isn’t anything else you know how to say.

A sheen of tears fills her eyes as she shrugs, powdered mask never betraying her as she smiles complacently. “He looks great, don’t you think?”

This unspoken thing that has been laid out before you has you so shaken, so surprised that you don’t even realize she’s talking about Bakugou, that he’s arrived for class until she gestures to him with the hand that has led you here.

(He does, he does look great, you realize, he always looks great.)

They’ve dressed him in a school uniform, one that must be an oversized twin to whatever he wore in highschool—or was supposed to wear; already, he’s tugging so hard at the red tie around his neck, you fear he’ll yank his own head off.

An instinctive side of you, Miss Customer Service™, is meeting him in the middle of the classroom, waving his hands away so you can release him from his leash. “Stop thrashing,” you chide, receiving a grunt in response as he peers down at you. The starched shirt he’s wearing underneath his blazer is only buttoned up to the middle of his chest, giving you another view of his collarbones, of his clavicle, of the tendons in his throat.

When he swallows, his Adam’s apple absorbs your attention, hands halting in their movements as his own come down between you. You feel his fingers lightly brushing against your stomach, deftly working to undo the belt around his pants and all the blood in your veins stops—

—because what the fuck is he—

“Didn’t wear this stupid thing, either.” Bakugou mutters, eyes black in the studio lights surrounding you both. The clinking of the pin against the frame has you looking down, forehead just barely grazing the white-blonde hair lightly dusting his chest as he pulls the leather from around his waist in such a provocative fashion that you’re forced to—

You have to step away from him, the loose ends of his tie falling against his shirt as one of the desks digs into your back. It must look like he’s shoved you or startled you somehow, it must. Dynamight, your boss, Bakugou—he’s a sight, with his shirt half-open, tie undone, holding a belt in his hands as his pants sag down around his hips the way they always do, the way he prefers.

(It’s longing, you realize, that look.)

(It’s want.)

The photographer, Maybe-Named-Nakano—or is that the name of the diner cameraman?—steps in, a reminder that you two aren’t the only ones in the world, you and Bakugou, by instructing him to lean against the chalkboard lazily. Next to his name, which he insists ain’t really mine because it’s missing the “Lord” and “Explosion” and “Murder God”; just as you expected, just as you feared, his blood-lust gaze never leaves your face.

For some reason, you want to tell him about Yukiko, about what she’s shown you, about what she’s implied. The urge fills you so suddenly that you think you’ll explode if you don’t tell him right now, if you don’t grab him by the free collar of his shirt and shake him, meet the wistful eyes that have been ripping you to shreds all day, all week, for the past few months, longer than you can remember.

It feels like a warning somehow, this thing she has given you, that if the feeling inside you doesn’t find its way out of you and into him, you’ll be the assistant in the puffy coat, sitting off to the side, drinking a milkshake as Dynamight gets interviewed, as he twirls a silver ring on his finger because you didn’t have the fucking guts to just say—

“Fuck this,” Bakugou snaps, breathless, arms winding back to tear the gray blazer off. It makes you blink, this outburst, and you look at him as he looks at you, as he looks at Maybe-Nakano, at Yukiko, before tossing the jacket on the teacher’s desk in front of him. “I’m fuckin’ done,” he spits, already half-way out of the room.

Uh oh.

“Wait,” you call, though it’s too late, “You—I—,” instead, you just face all the raised eyebrows and the few fed up frowns (and those instantly put you on the offensive). “Sorry, I just—give me a minute! Be right back!” Miss Customer Service™ goes scrambling out into the hall, head whipping left and right as she tries to discern where her Hero(!) could have stormed off too. The only thing you see lingering in the carcass of the arena is the makeup trailer, though you hadn’t heard his feet on the steps or the slam of the door.

The berating doesn’t stop as you hurry across the lobby; what the hell is wrong with you? Clearly something has upset Bakugou, your boss, and you were too busy with your head up your ass to realize what’s ignited him. The day has been stressful enough for him, that much you managed to stay aware of, but somewhere in the costume change and makeup retouch, his mood has taken a downward spiral.

There are several jumbled apologies swirling around in your mouth as you bound up to the trailer, knocking once, then twice, before yanking open the door; if he’s that pissed, he wouldn’t have opened it for you anyway.

“Bakugou?” Empty; your voice bounces around the vacant space. It’s nothing particularly spectacular: a few vanities set up, one on the end near a sink in the event they need to wash or style his hair. The floor is carpeted and the lean-back chair looks comfortable, there’s a muted television in the ceiling corner playing videos from the Sports Illustrated YouTube channel.

God, you can’t imagine how you look, burdened by the emotional rollercoaster you can’t seem to dismount from. When you step up to the mirror, you see the bags under your eyes, not as well hidden by your concealer as you thought at 6 this morning, and only growing darker since then. However you’d attempted to style your hair is alright, not perfect, but it looks like you at least put some effort into it. All at once you are reminded of Yukiko, insecurity rising without your permission, but the shine in her professional eyes fights it off.

The door yanks open all too obviously, the same way he does his office door, his car door, and Bakugou stops on the steps as he stares at you.

Waiting, for you to say something, for him to say something, for either of you to crack.

“Hey,” you breathe, the tension in your shoulders dispersing at the sight of him. The two of you have been together all day, but it feels as if it’s been a while, too long, since you’ve talked to him, just him (just you and Bakugou). “Is everything okay?”

He’s still standing on the steps, hand on the door, glaring at you. The closer you look, you realize his teeth are tearing up the skin inside his mouth, the tie is still clenched tight in his hand, leg bouncing just enough. He’s thinking, too hard.

“Bakugou?”

The slam of the door echoes off the concrete in the lobby, making you jump as he crosses the few steps between you and him (his legs, unending, long and powerful beneath his loose slacks). A myriad of words splutters out of you, none of them quite formed or making sense, when he grabs the front of your top, forcing you back against the vanity, forcing you closer as he crowds against you. The smell of his cologne is exhilarating—expensive, like orchids and spice and comfort—and it just barely masks the lingering sweet smell he’s never without.

“What’rey’do—”

“You’re driving me fucking insane!” It’s like he’s had enough, like he’s fed up with all the back and forth, the tug and pull.

(You think you’ve had enough, too. You think you're anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.)

And then you both erupt, all at once; he presses his mouth to yours (hot, chaste, close-lipped), one hand moving from your shirt to the back of your neck to keep you flush against him. A small sound of surprise and sudden want has him curling into you, pushing you further into the edge of the table until you have to wince out a whiny “ow”.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grunts and it does something to you, has you scrambling to sit back on the vanity, opening your thighs wide, allowing him to crash so close that he chokes on his gasp. You aren’t sure if he’s aware of it, but his hips are knocking against the wood, straining to grind in tandem with yours.

Back against the mirror, you do your best to shift so that a hand can go up your shirt, splaying out against your ribs, just under your bra, but the table shakes with how aggressive he’s becoming, how unhinged now that the line has been crossed, and things clatter to the floor. Miss Customer Service™ is an idiot, one that turns her head to see bottles spilling onto the carpet, cotton pads and Q-tips strewn out amongst makeup wipes and brushes—a wet bite to your neck has you squealing, unintentionally rutting against the hard length of him as you return your attention back to the man between your thighs.

“—fucking damn it,” Bakugou groans, slanting his head so his mouth can capture yours entirely, parting your lips, tongue stroking yours in a way that has a moan slipping from you. “You’re—”

You’ve no idea what he means to say, but you’re too dizzy to care, agreeing with a breathy, “yeah” that sounds so pornographic, it has you freezing, silently fighting off the embarrassment that threatens to ruin the mood. It seems to spur him on, to ignite him, teeth meeting teeth as he growls like it isn’t enough, like it isn’t close enough, like he’s not getting what he needs.

One of his hands leaves your face to work on the buttons of his shirt, furiously trying to undo them while kissing you so deep, so hungry, but he pulls back to look down at his chest when he barely manages to get one open, “fuck!”

The sight of him so flushed, lips spit-slick and chest heaving like he’d just finished 27, 28, 29, 30 curls has you tightening your thighs around him, a hand going to the table to inch you forward to where you need the pressure of him the most. The look he sends you is threatening, lips curling back to bare his canines like the feral brute that he is, that you need in this moment, but it only eggs you on. You want him to give you that look and many more, new ones, heady ones, the kind that will sear into your eyelids.

“‘m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” he warns, buttons clinking against the mirror as he yanks the fabric apart, tearing the seams and tossing it to the ground.

“What does that look like?” It’s a little humiliating, how out of breath you are just from kissing him; you can’t imagine how it would be if the two of you actually— “Why don’t you show—me!”

Bakugou’s hands cup around the backs of your knees before you can finish, drawing you as close to the edge of the table as he can while rutting against you, hard. A sigh of bliss spills from his mouth into yours as he reconnects his lips, and one of your hands goes to his stomach, shuddering at how tightly it tenses under your touch. After spying it earlier, you can’t help it; he huffs through his nose when you follow the trail of hair underneath his bellybutton to the top of his briefs.

“You’re—oh, fuck—” He’s coming undone in the best way, hand shaking as it slips back into place behind your neck (his fingers are searing, leaving prints on your skin that burn down to your muscle and bone, that brand you), and you can’t believe this is happening, you can’t believe this is actually, finally, happening.

The two of you have put it off for too long, tried too hard to avoid this thing that’s been threatening to carbonize you and now the flame is wild, out of control, consuming you both.

“Bakugou—”

“Katsuki,” he rasps, he pleads, “jus’—you can call me by my name,” his nose nudges yours softly, taking you back to his office, your fingers stroking over his eyelids, him nodding urgently as you said what he wanted—needed—to hear.

You arch forward into him, chest to chest, sternum to sternum, bone to bone, and travel your hands up to his neck, to scratch against his scalp. It draws a groan from deep within his chest and he succumbs, leaning against you so that he can kiss you with significance, with purpose; it’s slow but deliberate, desperate, saying all the things he’s unable to.

“Katsuki,” you say, you yield, and you don’t care that the two of you are in a makeup trailer in a stadium rented out to Sports Illustrated; you don’t care if he’s your boss and you’re his assistant; you don’t care if Kirishima knows, or Mina, or Yukiko or Maybe-Nakano or the old woman from the gyudon place; if he burns, so will you.

Because he’s gotten you accustomed to the heat, because he’s calloused you.

“I don’t want to be Yukiko,” it’s whispered against his lips and he slows down the tiniest bit, trying to listen to whatever you’re saying, “watching you from the sidelines because I couldn’t say it when I needed to.”

Katsuki can’t know what you’re talking about, has no idea of what was revealed to you, but he shakes his head slightly, nipping your lip. “What sidelines? There ain’t any sidelines.”

When he tugs at your visitor badge—the horrible, rotten, loathsome thing—you grin so hard it hurts. “I’m with you?”

His hips rock into yours unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world (just you and Katsuki), and a breath stutters out in the space between you. “‘s’right.”

And then the bubble pops.

“Is everything alright in there?” Comes a voice outside the trailer, and you strain your ears desperately, pleading to the universe that it is not, somehow, Kirishima Eijirou. “We heard some crashing.”

Yukiko—the grin in her voice translates through the door.

Oh my god, you think, you say, horrified. Your hand slaps over your mouth as Katsuki rolls his eyes, stilling his hips but not yet leaning from you. When she knocks again, he grits his teeth and barks,

“We’re come—we’ll be out in a minute, damn it!”

The fit of laughter you devolve into has him scowling, fingers pinching your sides as he grumbles at you to shaddup, though his words are laced with fatigue; neither of you have the strength not to fall into whatever this is.

“‘m never doing this interview shit again, got it?” he groans, grabbing a stray button from the vanity to scrutinize.

Giving a playful salute, you say, “sir, yes, sir.”

Katsuki glowers, rolling his shoulders in that way that looks like it hurts, in that way that looks mouthwatering—and he knows it, by the smirk growing on his face. “If you keep that sir shit up, we’re gonna be in here longer than a minute.”

In your fuzzy boots, you sweaty toes curl, biting your lip to keep from smiling as he retrieves his ruined shirt from the ground—oh, god, how were you gonna explain that to Maybe-Nakano? “Is that a promise?”

His eyes widen furiously and he pinches you again, trapping you back against the mirror as his nose bumps yours, “are you. Trying. To drive me. Crazy.”

And it’s not so much a question as it is a confession.

—

8:13 A

The photos of Dynamight are, as expected, impeccable.

Yukiko had forwarded you a few of the unedited shots through her official email address—and she had also sent several winking emojis through her personal, which she had given to you not long after the shoot.

There are only three sample photos, stamped with an embossed, Sports Illustrated watermark that takes up the majority of the picture, but you’ve been peeking at them whenever Kirishima isn’t incidentally prowling past your office. He looks amazing, changed, grown, in the untouched versions, with scars peeking out on his chest and across his nose, the stubble he refused to let them shave shadowing his chin, the deep, permanent crease between his eyebrows—it’s all him, Dynamight, Katsuki, exactly as he is.

The wooden blinds in his office are pulled open, flooding your office with the fluorescent light burning through his, and when you look up to give him a wave (that he won’t return), his eyes are already on you—as they always seem to be, these days.

Alright already, he means, get your ass in here.

The low heels you're wearing today don’t require a clasp, so slipping them on is all too easy, and you peer out of your office warily—your clipboard and the folder with the photos hugged tight to your chest—while searching for any pesky redheads. When the coast seems clear, you hurry to round the corner from your office into his, leaning back against the door—which you realize has a bright green sticky note that says FUCK OFF, SHITTY HAIR—holding your breath until it’s safely shut.

Your boss is waiting, chin in hand, one ash eyebrow raised.

“Good morning,” you beam, waving the manila folder like a prize before setting it on his desk. “I can’t wait to show you these, they turned out great—”

It’s flicked back across the desk at you, “Not interested.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You whine, shoulders slumping, “don’t you want to see the fruits of your labor?”

“Decline.”

Tapping a pen against your lips, you narrow your eyes at him, biting back a smile when he frowns. “I’ll find a way to show you, somehow, anyway! Deku called at 2:37 yesterday—”

“Decline.”

“And he did not ask you to lunch, y’old grouch.” You smirk when his lip twitches. “I just wanted to gloat that he called and asked to speak to me—”

“What the hell did he say?”

Katsuki looks bewildered; you’re in the elevator, you’re raising the sack.

“Uh, sir, are you asking about my personal conversations with your fellow—”

“I’m not fuckin’ around, what did he say?”

He’s in the corner, hissing and spitting, but you’ve still got him in your sights.

The pen taps against your lips again and you hum, “I don’t really think it’s appropriate that I divulge that information to you, sir, but if you’d like to call him—”

“I know what you’re doing, y’little brat.” His chair flies into the file cabinet behind him with how quick he rises to his feet. “And it ain’t gonna work. When I want to call him, I will.”

Shit, eluded you again. Sorry Deku, you think, maybe next time.

“Okay,” you shrug, checking the box on your clipboard, “Best Jeanist called, he wanted to congratulate you on hitting the number four spot.”

He stands straighter, suddenly looking awkward, out of place, that he’s been acknowledged. “Well, it’s about fuckin’ time.”

Clearing your throat, you lean a little more into the door, keeping your eyes trained on a not-entirely-real to do on your list. “And your romantic partner, she would like to congratulate you also.”

“Hah? My—” Katsuki’s eyes narrow suspiciously at you as he comes around the front of his desk, taking measured, predatory steps as he looms closer. “Better be something other than—”

“Tuna-mayo, I know,” you pretend to read another Post-It before dropping the act, smiling up at him as his eyes dart down to your lips. “It definitely is.”

“When ‘m I gettin’ this congratulations?”

“Later, when certain heroes aren’t in the same—”

But Katsuki doesn’t care, relying on the note tacked to the front of his door as he captures your lips with his own. The hoodie he’s wearing is making him entirely too warm, spreading to you when his hands come up to hold your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks in such an affectionate way, you think to hell with Kirishima knowing.

The clipboard clatters lightly to the floor as you wrap your arms around his waist, hands coming up to rest in the comfort of his back (broad, scarred, steady enough to hold the weight of Japan). He groans lowly when you scratch him through the fabric, though it is more a sound of contentment than lust, and you giggle against him as he pulls back to peck you once, twice, three times.

“Sir,” you try to pout, but your lips don’t listen, “this is entirely inappropriate for—”

“Cut the sir shit, or else.”

“I am never, ever going to cut the sir shit, I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Your arms tighten around him when he tries to pull away, scowling down at you.

“Then you’re gonna get fucking railed in here one day, and I don’t want to hear shit about—and don’t you ask me if that’s a goddamn promise, ‘cause it is!” Katsuki goes to kiss you again, just to shut you up since you can’t stop giggling into the fabric of his chest. “Don’t fuckin’ laugh at—”

There is a wild banging on the glass window of your office, where the blinds are still open and revealing.

Where Kirishima stands, grin lighting up his smug face brighter than you think you’ve ever seen it. Just as he gives a giant, rewarding thumbs up to the both of you, Katsuki tears the door of his own office open, shouting out a raging—

“That’s it!”

—before Eijirou’s wild laughter can be heard echoing off the high-vaulted ceilings of the agency. The sound makes you laugh, feeling so full in your chest at the familiarity of it—Red Riot’s sunshine, Dynamight’s inferno—and it has you wondering if maybe you’ve been inside this bubble a lot longer than you realized, if maybe you’ve been inside it all along.

Florist bakugou x tattoo artist kariage BUT WITH A TWIST

bakugou has like, a gothic aesthetic with his clothes but customers dont realize hes a gremlin cuz of his baby face making him look pouty if hes not actively pissed. And you cant see a lot of the profanity on his shirt cuz of the dark green apron and fake flower crown as part of the uniform.

Kariage is quiet, and slightly intimidating with his simplistic all black clothes and piercings, but talks like an adorable puppy who's passionate about his professional, cuz he will rant about different things and suggestions regarding tattoos.

The two see eachother frequently due to the shops being across the pathway. But they've never interacted until kariage visits cuz he wants to change up the decor after getting an ungodly number of vases from mito after her pottery date with seika.

They get to know eachother and bakugou decides he wants a tattoo where he gets to see the cute side of Kariage rather than the usual stoic and quiet persona hes used to. This made him gay panic more than It should have. Kariage has always liked the fiery persona of Bakugou's and enjoys learning about how he ended up working at a flower shop. Turns out bakugou likes to make flower arrangements that passively insult others with their meanings. Cute.

Anyways after a bit of pinning and wingman hifue and yasushi, they get together and frequent each other's shops a lot.

Very domestic.

I might make fanart of this. And a fanfic.

have yalls angry mitsuki coming to terms that kariage is a good boyfriend for katsuki. And her twisted thinking about the sports festival.

---

Anger riled up in her as she saw her son tied up infront of millions. How could this happen? Why is no one doing anything?! Her baby boy is struggling in quirk restraints not even fit for his quirk.

Mitsuki could barely hold herself back. Masaru had grown still next to her. She could barely think, so many questions went through her head. Perhaps they were doing the right thing? Maybe katsuki had done something wrong and is paying the price for it, surely UA wouldn't do something like this without a reason.

-time skip to after sports festival, katsuki is at home now- (I'll figure out how to write this part later)

Katsuki didnt say much, or at all once he got home. He just stayed inside his room all day. It was getting late. Around 7 PM.

There was a knock at the door, it was kariage, Katsuki's boyfriend. Mitsuki let him inside, even if she still wasn't so sure about him. Could you blame her? Kariage was basically if hot topic and stereotypical bad boy had a baby. And that baby being kariage, the poster child of bad behavior.

However, the look in his eyes said otherwise. There was a bloodlust hidden, a fury almost breaking to the surface as there were glimpses of sadness. Mitsuki looked at kariage as he went upstairs to her son's room.

A while later, she heard muffled sobs as she washes the dishes....and then cooing? Sweet nothings are a better phrase. She heard the sobbing stop and turn to giggles. Mitsuki turned the water off after completing the last of the dishes.

Mitsuki went upstairs, she stood infront of the door and heard the stupid jokes that kariage was telling her boy. No matter how bad they were, they still made katsuki laugh.

Mitsuki smiled to herself as she walked into masaru and her bedroom and sat next to her already sleeping husband. Maybe, just maybe, kariage was ok enough to be with her baby.