Bakugou X Fem!reader - Blog Posts

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𖤐 synopsis: when intrusive voices from you quirk return with new threats in the middle of the night, you seek comfort from katsuki.

𖤐 trigger warnings: intrusive thoughts, self-doubt, fear of loss of control, and mild sleep disturbances.

𖤐 pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

𖤐 side note: this is a part two of ‘whispers in the dark’ because of the owner of this idea asking for a part two, so, tysm @montybooks

sleep had evaded you for hours. you'd tossed and turned in your bed at the u.a. dorms, trying every technique you knew to quiet your mind. counting sheep. deep breathing. focusing on happy memories from earlier that day—bakugou's hand in yours as you walked back from afternoon classes, the subtle way he'd positioned himself between you and mineta when the shorter boy had tried to approach you.

but as midnight approached, the whispers had returned with a vengeance.

you'll never be strong enough…

he only pities you…

what if you lost control during training?

what if you hurt someone?

what if you hurt him?

the last thought made you bolt upright, cold sweat beading on your forehead. that was new. the voices had never specifically targeted bakugou before.

he thinks he can save you. how cute.

but we've been with you so much longer…

you pressed your palms against your ears, knowing it wouldn't help but desperate to try anything. the darkness in your room seemed to shift and undulate, responding to your distress. a side effect of your quirk—shadows naturally bent toward you, especially when your emotions ran high.

"stop it," you whispered into the darkness. "leave me alone."

never alone. we are part of you. we are you.

your phone glowed on the nightstand. 12:03 am. too late to be bothering anyone, but…

"next time they start talking, come find me."

bakugou's words from earlier that day echoed in your memory, temporarily drowning out the malicious whispers. he'd been so certain, so unafraid. so different from everyone else who'd learned about your condition.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed your phone and a hoodie, slipping it over your sleep shorts and tank top. you padded barefoot to your door and peeked out into the hallway. the girls' floor was quiet, everyone sensibly asleep.

you made your way to the stairwell, avoiding the elevator that would announce your movements to the entire building. the boys' floor was on the one above yours. you'd never been to bakugou's room, but you knew which one it was—third door on the right. you'd noticed it during dorm tours at the beginning of the year.

he'll be angry. he'll reject you.

you're bothering him. weak. needy.

your hand hesitated, poised to knock. maybe this was a mistake. maybe he hadn't really meant it when he said to come find him.

he was just saying that. no one wants to deal with your problems in the middle of the night.

before the voices could convince you to turn back, you forced yourself to knock—three soft taps that sounded thunderous in the silent hallway.

no response.

see? he's ignoring you. or sleeping peacefully without a care about your suffering.

you were about to retreat when you heard movement from within the room. a thud, a muffled curse, then footsteps approaching the door.

it swung open to reveal a sleep-rumpled bakugou, hair even wilder than usual, wearing only a black tank top and gray sweatpants. his eyes were narrowed with irritation until they focused on you—then they widened slightly, the annoyance instantly replaced with concern.

"they're back?" he asked without preamble, voice rough with sleep.

you nodded, suddenly embarrassed. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have—"

before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, closing the door quietly behind you.

"sit," he ordered, pointing to his bed.

his room was surprisingly neat, you noticed. the walls were lined with hero posters, mostly of all might, with a few books about quirk theory stacked on his desk. a weight set sat in one corner, and the faint scent of nitroglycerin—bakugou's natural scent—permeated the space.

"i really am sorry," you said, perching awkwardly on the edge of his bed. "i just… they were saying things. new things. worse things."

he doesn't care. look how annoyed he is.

but bakugou didn't look annoyed as he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. despite the hour and being woken up, his eyes were alert, focused entirely on you.

"what kind of things?" he asked.

you stared at your hands. "that i might hurt someone with my quirk. that i might… hurt you."

you felt him stiffen slightly beside you.

"as if you could," he scoffed, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

we could show him. we could show him how powerful we could be.

"that's the thing," you whispered. "sometimes i think they might be right. what if i lost control? my quirk… it feeds on negative emotions. fear. anger. what if one day i can't stop it?"

bakugou was quiet for a moment, considering. then he did something that surprised you—he took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

"you know what i think?" he finally said. "i think your quirk isn't the problem. it's the fear."

you looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"you're afraid of your power," he explained, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. "always have been, probably. so you hold back. you keep it all bottled up until it finds other ways out. like these voices."

he's wrong. we are your true power. let us show you.

you shook your head, trying to clear it. "the doctor said—"

"doctors don't know shit about quirks like ours," bakugou interrupted. "they have their theories, but they're not the ones living with it."

he thinks he knows better than professionals? arrogant boy.

"what would you suggest, then?" you asked, genuinely curious. no one had ever approached your condition from this angle before.

bakugou's free hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with unexpected gentleness. "you need to stop being afraid of yourself."

"that's easier said than done," you murmured, leaning slightly into his touch.

"i know," he acknowledged. "but think about it. when are the voices loudest?"

you considered the question. "when i'm stressed. when i've used a lot of my quirk. when i'm tired or afraid."

"and when are they quietest?"

the answer came immediately. "when i'm with you." it was true, even now—though still present, the whispers had faded to background noise the moment bakugou had pulled you into his room.

something like satisfaction flashed across his face. "and why do you think that is?"

don't listen to him. he's trying to take us away from you.

you frowned, ignoring the voice. "i don't know. maybe because… because you make me feel safe?" the admission made heat rise to your cheeks.

bakugou nodded. "and when you feel safe, you're not afraid of losing control."

there was wisdom in his words that surprised you. for someone so explosive, bakugou had remarkable insight into the nature of fear and control.

"so what do i do?" you asked softly. "i can't be with you every second of every day."

no, but we can. we're always here.

the corners of bakugou's mouth quirked up slightly. "wouldn't be the worst thing."

your heart skipped a beat at the implication, but you tried to stay focused. "i'm serious, katsuki."

"so am i," he said, shifting to face you more directly. "look, i'm not saying it'll be easy. but you need to start trusting yourself. your power isn't evil just because it's dark."

we could be so much more if you'd just listen…

"the voices disagree," you said wryly.

bakugou's eyes narrowed. "what are they saying right now?"

you hesitated, then decided on honesty. "that they could make me more powerful if i'd listen to them."

"and what do you want?"

the question caught you off guard. "what?"

"what. do. you. want?" he repeated, emphasizing each word. "not what the voices want. not what your parents want. not what the doctors say you should want. what do you want?"

no one had ever asked you that before. you'd spent so long trying to suppress your quirk, to be normal, to not succumb to the whispers, that you'd never considered what you might actually want.

"i want…" you began slowly, "i want to understand my quirk better. i want to use it without being afraid. i want to be a hero without worrying that i'll turn into a villain."

bakugou nodded approvingly. "good start."

empty dreams. we know what you really want.

you swallowed hard before adding, "and right now, i want the voices to shut up so i can sleep."

his expression softened almost imperceptibly. "lay down."

"what?"

"you heard me. lay down." he shifted to make room on his bed.

your eyes widened. "bakugou, i can't stay here—"

"why the hell not?" he challenged. "you need sleep. the voices are quieter around me. simple solution."

put that way, it did sound logical. but still…

"what if someone finds out?"

he rolled his eyes. "who's going to find out? and who gives a damn if they do?"

he just wants to take advantage of you.

the voice was weaker now, less convincing. you knew bakugou better than that.

"the voices think you have ulterior motives," you said with a small smile.

bakugou snorted. "tell the voices i have some fucking honor." but there was a hint of pink across his cheekbones that told you the thought had crossed his mind.

after another moment's hesitation, you gave in to exhaustion and lay down on his bed. bakugou stretched out beside you, far enough away to be respectful but close enough that you could feel his warmth.

"better?" he asked, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

you nodded, already feeling the whispers receding further. "much."

"good. now sleep." it wasn't a suggestion but a command.

a comfortable silence fell between you, broken only by the sound of your breathing gradually synchronizing with his. the voices had faded to barely audible murmurs, unable to penetrate the sense of safety bakugou's presence provided.

just as you were drifting off, you felt his hand find yours again in the darkness.

"hey," he said quietly.

"hmm?" you mumbled, already half-asleep.

"tomorrow after class. training grounds. you and me."

you forced your eyes open to look at him questioningly.

"we're going to work on your quirk," he explained. "no holding back. full power. i can take it."

alarm shot through you, momentarily banishing sleep. "katsuki, i don't think—"

"that's the problem," he interrupted. "you think too much. you're afraid of what might happen, so you never let yourself find out what will happen."

he doesn't know what he's asking for.

for once, you were inclined to agree with the voice. "it's dangerous."

bakugou's laugh was soft but genuine. "everything about being a hero is dangerous. but we train to control it, not avoid it."

his confidence was infectious, and you found yourself nodding despite your fears. "okay. tomorrow."

"good," he said, satisfied. then, more hesitantly, "and after that… maybe dinner? off campus."

your heart stuttered. "like… a date?"

even in the darkness, you could sense his discomfort with the explicit labeling. "call it whatever you want. just say yes."

a smile spread across your face. "yes."

he gave your hand a squeeze before releasing it. "now seriously, go to sleep. i need my rest if i'm going to deal with your darkness tomorrow."

the way he said it—not with fear or pity but with determination and maybe even a hint of excitement—made something warm bloom in your chest. as if your quirk was a challenge he was eager to face, not a burden he was reluctantly accepting.

this won't last. nothing good ever does.

but for once, the voice seemed distant and unconvincing. bakugou's steady breathing beside you was far more real, more immediate.

"katsuki?" you whispered, not sure if he was still awake.

"mm?" came the sleepy response.

"thank you."

he shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against yours. "don't thank me yet. wait till after i kick your ass in training tomorrow."

you laughed softly, knowing his bravado was his way of saying "you're welcome." as sleep finally claimed you, the last thing you were aware of was the complete silence in your mind and the comforting warmth of bakugou beside you—a beacon in the darkness, keeping the whispers at bay.

for the first time in as long as you could remember, you slept through the night without a single nightmare, your shadows calm and still around you both.

taglist: [open]

mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @lotusstarr @tulippanes @gh0st-g1rll @luvseraphh

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More Than A Favor

Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, Breeding, Awkward Sexual Situations, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Humor

WC: 5.6K

a/n: This is a reupload too. But I wanted to get it out because i started thinking about the moment these two are waiting for the positive pregnancy test. Also my b, this reader is so heavily marq coded all the way down to the way she speaks im so sorry bahahah. BUT this started off as a comfort fic so.... that's why it's like this. sorry.

“I just need you to spurt in my pussy so I can have a baby! Easy peasy!” 

You’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment building with Katsuki and he can’t believe his ears right now. Of all the years of being your best friend and listening to the wild shit that comes out of your mouth, you’d think he’d be immune to the surprise. But like always you’re always keeping him on his toes.

Still though, this “favor” might prove to be a little too much even for him. You know he’d do anything for you, the same way you’d do anything for him. You’ve been the one constant over the last few years too. Stuck by him when he was an asshole, when he wasn’t an asshole, when he ghosted that girl he was dating, even bailed him out when he got arrested for breaking the stupid paparazzi's camera.

He grimaces and wrinkles his nose in disgust, “Ugh, dont fucking say it like that!” 

You laugh boisterously, your dimples sinking into your cheeks as you beam at him, “How else do you want me to say it? Is that not what would be happening?” 

“Yeah but do you gotta use the word spurt? It’s…” he hesitates. 

“Fine. Would you rather me say ‘Katsuki will you please ejaculate all the sperm saved up in your testicles into my vagina so that you can fertilize the egg in my uterus?’” 

“You’re a fucking nightmare ya know that?” 

How long has Katsuki been in love with you? He actually can’t pinpoint it. In fact, he may only be realizing it now as the thought of you wobbling around pregnant with his kid fills his mind and makes him look like one of those sappy in love guys in the romance manga he reads. 

“So is that a yes?” 

He shoots you his signature “I’m bein’ serious” face and you laugh again, filling the room with your joy.

“Oh come on Katsuki. Look I promise, you won't have to do a thing after I get pregnant. I won't ask you for any help or child support or whatever. The kid doesn't even have to know you’re their real dad,” you say now looking serious as you explain.

That gives him pause. Are you saying this because you don’t want to be with him? He wouldn’t force himself in the kids life if he agreed to do this, not if you didn't want him around. That desperation in your eyes though. Why don’t you get it? If you asked him to catapult himself to the moon, he’d fucking do it. 

“I know you’re focused on getting to number one and you're super close and…Katsu I hope you know I would never do anything to get in the way of that but…my window is closing real soon. And I have the opportunity now and obviously I am painfully single right now so…”

Oh. You think he doesn’t want this. You think you’re burdening him. Damn…all this time he’s known you were clueless but for the love of shit you can’t be this clueless. Katsuki hasn’t had a date in…two years? Yeah that’s it. And in those two years he's spent almost every day with you, hangin’ out, goin’ on trips, watching movies, doing mundane life shit. Hell in his mind, the two of you are practically married already. 

But it’s clear you don’t think the same. Maybe you don’t see him that way? Which means… this entire thing could get real real messy. 

Katsuki squints, “You’re serious? Like you're sure you want this?” 

“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.” 

He knows that’s the truth. It’s all you ever talk about when you both talk about your goals and dreams. He wants to be number one and you wanna be a mom. But still the question remains, would you wanna be a mom to his kid? 

“And you’re sure you wanna do this…with me?” he asks again.

You shrug nonchalantly, “Why not? You’re my best friend. I trust you with my life. This is just as precious.” 

Goddamn you saying sentimental shit like that so nonchalantly. It’s like your fucking superpower. 

“Yeah but what if…shit gets weird after,” he stammers, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why would it get weird?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Cuz…yannow how weird it gets when two friends start fucking. Look at Sparky and Hanta. It’s been off since they hooked up last month at Mina’s party,” he explains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Well I don’t know how you do it, but I wouldn’t consider you jacking it into my pussy would qualify as us ‘fucking’”, you say curling your nose up in judgement.

“I'm bein’ serious,” he retorts, bumping your forehead lightly with his palm.

“So am I! Look we’ve been through…so much shit together. My mom’s death, All Might’s death, the hero charts, breakdowns during the middle of the night while I try to get my degree, the very very bad break up with the one we do not speak about…none of that got the better of us so I don't see why this would either.”

Katsuki looks away from you now, Eyes dropping to the floor. He almost chokes when your tiny hand curls around his chin lightly and makes him look back at you. You’re wearing that expression again, the “you’re the only one in my universe” expression he’s seen you use as a weapon to bartenders to get you both free booze. 

But this time, there’s no tricks.  

This time, you mean it. 

“Hey, I mean it. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna lose anyone else so if you’re completely against it, tell me and I’ll drop it right now,” you assert.

Katsuki sighs and plops a hand on top of your head, rubbing gently to make sure he doesn’t mess up your hair. 

“Gimme some time to think about it alright? It doesn't mean No. It means I gotta…prepare…I guess.”

Your smile returns, along with your irresistible ass dimples. “That’s totally fine! I won't start ovulating until next month anyway so take all the time you need!” you chirp. 

You both continue down the hallway, your apartments located toward the end of the hall. When you reach his door, you pause before heading a bit farther down the way to your place.

“Hey Katsu?” 

“What now?” Katsuki asks exasperated as he pulls out his key. 

When he turns to look at you, you’re staring at him with the big wide serious eye again. You look a little nervous, anxious as you twiddle your fingers in front of you. Geez, he’ll never get over how fucking pretty you are. 

“Thank you. Even if you refuse, thank you, for at least considering it,” you say bowing graciously to him.

His heart thumps in his chest but he shakes it off quickly and bumps your forehead again playfully. “Tsk, dumb ass. You act like I don’t always consider the crazy shit you come up with.” 

The playful jab soothes you again, and just like before the anxiety melts away into glee. 

“Crazy shit?!? Admit it, I make your life fun and exciting. If it weren't for me you’d be at home watching “How It’s Made” videos on Youtube,” you say sticking your tongue out at him as you brush past onward to your apartment.

“Fuck you! That shit is interesting I don't care what you say,” he calls after you as you laugh and skip away. 

 Katsuki watches your swaying hips as you go. He’s definitely got a lot of shit to think about tonight. 

Never have you ever found a ceiling more interesting than right now. 

Ok, it’s not all that interesting but you are surely going to act like it is. Refusing to look Katsuki in the eyes as you lie on your back in his dark ass bedroom, legs spread with the string of your underwear cutting into your plush soft waist is by far the only way to keep this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it already is. 

You suppose the best part of looking at the ceiling is that it’s not your own. You're at Katsuki’s apartment and of all the times you’ve been here, all the nights you’ve spent here you’ve never looked at his ceiling. Your mind wanders as the sound of fabric shifting idly becomes the background noise in your mind. 

“The ceiling that interestin’?” A gruff voice says from the end of the bed. 

God it’s like he’s in your head, which again shouldn’t be a surprise. There’s literally no other person in existence who knows the way your mind works better than Katsuki. He is your best friend after all. 

Your eyes shift to him and immediately you find it to be a mistake. He’s shirtless, the black sweatpants he wears are low on his hips and goddamn…have you really never noticed how tiny his waist is compared to his broad ass shoulders? And… has he always been like… that fit? 

No. Bad. Stop that. That is not where this is supposed to be going. This is a business deal between friends. Nothing more. 

In a desperate attempt to keep the mood humorous, you scoff. 

“Actually ceilings are really sexy so I’m trying to concentrate and get in the mood and you’re ruining it,” you reply, letting your eyes reluctantly fall away from him and return to the ceiling. 

You can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes, “Let’s just hurry and get this shit over with. Sooner we do it, sooner this stops being weird,” he huffs, moving closer to the edge of the bed. 

His anxious tone should make you feel bad but strangely, it’s comforting. It’s good to know you’re both feeling the same way. 

This is a big thing you’re asking of him, and you know he’s been on the fence about it since you asked. Honestly, you expected him to say no. But when he’d accepted a few days ago, you’d tried to ignore the way his reply of “When have I ever been able to say no to you,” made your stomach do flips. 

“Thanks again Katsu. For agreeing to this. I’ll probably spend the rest of my life paying you back for it,” you say gently, still avoiding looking at him. 

He huffs again, but you hear the hesitation, the hitch in his breath at your soft confession. He taps your knee and waits for you to give him your attention again. 

Again it’s a mistake, looking at him, because his expression is soft and tender it makes your lips part in a gasp. 

“Pay it back by bein’ a good mom to the kid,” he mutters quietly. 

The searing touch of his hand on your knee makes you swallow a lump in your throat. Something about Katsuki referring to you as a mom makes a bubble of emotion rush its way to your tear ducts but you bite back the sob with a smile. 

“I promise.”

“Alright, I’m comin’ to ya. Ya ready?” he asks and slowly you nod. 

With a low groan, Katsuki crawls on the bed between your legs, nudging them more apart so he can fit comfortably between them. With his body hovering over yours it makes this feel more real. 

You are about to do this. You are about to be impregnated by your best friend. 

Katsuki was nice enough to let you change into a shirt of his that’s way bigger on you than a regular shirt. It drapes down over your ass and covers your panties. But while lying on your back  with your legs spread and him between them you can’t help but feel more vulnerable than if you were wearing your own clothes. He’d said it would help you feel “less exposed” but in the back of your mind you wonder if he gets off on seeing girls in his shirt before he fucks them. 

That is another forbidden thought you shouldn’t have. You’re not like the other girls he fucks because he is not “fucking” you. He’s going to jack himself until he gets right to the cusp of orgasm and then insert himself to finish inside you. 

It’s hardly sex. More like… helpful masturbation at this point but still…him being inside you… that’s…something different. 

“Alright uhh… if you’re ready I’m gonna… take it out now,” he stammers nervously,as he stares into your eyes. 

Your eyes flick down to his groin and then back up to his eyes. Another desperate attempt to lighten the mood falls from your lips. 

“With your pants still on? Like this is a quickie?” you say in mock shock. 

Katsuki growls in frustration. His brows pull together and he pouts his lips.  

“I’m doin’ it for you! Plus I thought it’d be weird if I was butt ass naked jacking my dick over your fully clothed body so shut it!” 

You shake your head in defiance, “Hold on now! First of all, I’m not fully clothed. Second, I told you to do whatever you need to be the most comfortable. That’s why we’re at your place, Katsu. So if ya need to take our pants off, just take ‘em off for christ sake!” you glare back at him trying  not to smile. 

It’s your typical banter with him. He tries to make you comfortable. You yell at him and tell him to worry about himself. Nice to see you two can still fall back into the groove of friendship. Which is why you know after this, the two of you will be ok. 

“Fine! I’ll take em off then! But you gotta take your stupid panties off too. If it’s about my comfort, pullin’ em to the side is annoying as shit,” he yells, moving off the bed to slip his pants down his legs. 

You notice, he’s not wearing underwear and as you lift up to slip your own underwear down your thighs and ball them up to place next to your head, you avert your eyes from Katsuki’s –admittedly impressive–cock. 

When you both are back into position–you on your back with the shirt pulled over your but pussy out and Katsuki leaning back on his thighs with a pillow over his junk–you’re both breathing heavily. His skin is hot against yours as his thighs brush against your inner thigh. You stop the tremble that starts up your spine and try to focus on the ceiling again as Katsuki’s hand moves between his own legs.  

You hear him clear his throat, and say “I’m startin’ now,” and then inhale as his hand wraps around his cock. He closes his eyes, which you appreciate. It means you can look around if you want to and in a second of courage you take the chance to observe his technique. 

Ok so yeah… Katsuki is fucking hung. Not a fact you thought you’d ever know about him. It’s not like the two of you don’t swap sex stories but he’s never gone into detail. He’s hot, you know that and so does he, but you never thought his dick could be another reason why it’s so easy for him to get laid when he wants. 

His waist is enviable and his abs ripple down his torso. He’s got a happy trail of brown hair that gradually grows into a bush of blond coily hair. With his eyes closed you’re also able to get a good look at his dick. Katsuki’s got massive hands and it still looks like he’s having trouble getting his entire palm around the girth of it. It makes your mouth water–although it shouldn’t. 

And naughtily you believe his may be the thickest cock you’ve ever taken.  

“Uhh…” he pauses, his eyes are open and yours quickly flit away from his cock and up to his eyes. He looks worried which is good because it means he didn’t catch you looking at him. 

“What?” you ask breathlessly. 

He raises an eyebrow and then both brows furrow again and the hand that’s not on his cock drums against his thigh nervously. “You’re breathing is all weird and shit, you—“ 

“Just hurry up and jack it Katsuki,” you interrupt, wanting to divert the attention away from your dumb ass horny inappropriate thoughts about your best friend. 

He smirks as if he knows what you’re doing but only jokes and says “Heh, never thought I'd hear that said to me before.”

“Oh my god, would you just–” You don’t finish because he tips a bit off balance while he’s sitting back on his knees and balancing on his thighs and feet. When he rocks off balance, he grabs your thigh to steady himself and the action makes you gasp in delight. 

The moan that would come after is thankfully trapped in your throat by a wall of disintegrating control. As if he didn’t hear it at all, Katsuki steadies himself, mutters an apology and gets back to it. 

As his hand moves slowly up and down his shaft, you notice it stays a bit boneless in his palm. His eyes are closed again, his face is craned up to the ceiling and his body is shaking as he furiously keeps stroking to get himself there. After about three minutes you cover your eyes and grab his wrist to stop him. 

“Are you…like…okay?” you ask, shielding your eyes to respect his privacy. 

Katsuki groans, “It's harder than it looks!” he spits in annoyance. 

In an attempt to quickly soothe him you put both hands up in surrender and forget the reason you were shielding your eyes in the first place . 

“Hey I’m not saying it’s not! I get it alright I just…” your words trickle off as you stare at him again, propped up on your elbows. 

This time he doesn’t cover himself which is odd. And what’s even odder is you don’t shield your eyes again. He’s got that “I’ve got an idea” look but it’s paired with a guilt only you’re able to recognize. 

“Do you want me to help?” you ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki’s eyes widen, his cheeks blush red and you can tell for a split second he contemplates saying yes before he sputters out  “…No! I don't need any damn help.” 

You smirk, “You hesitated.” 

He shakes his head roughly, the spiky hair on top of his head shaking like leaves on a tree caught in a storm. “No no just shut the fuck up and let me focus. And cover your eyes back up.” 

“I could…take the shirt off or something if that will help?” you suggest. 

This time he does visibly hesitate and think about your suggestion. He probably thinks since you brought it up, it’s more acceptable to agree. 

Plus…you know your strengths and your rack is definitely one of them.  

Finally he relents, “…fine.” 

The shirt is off and over your head in seconds, leaving you Winnie the Pooh-ing it in a black bra.. He looks away, trying not to look at your pussy but you notice the quick glances and the way his dick twitches at the sight even more. This time, you cover your eyes, electing to give Katsuki a chance to look at you and get himself going.

As it turns out, not being able to see him but being able to hear him proves to be even more sexually stimulating. Katsuki’s hand sounds wetter now, making lewd noises as his hand rubs up and down his dick. His breathing is different too, it’s heavier, littered with more sharp inhales and hissing. You even think you hear him mutter to himself. 

You lick your lips, is the difference just because he can see your tits now? Or maybe he’s not even looking at your tits. You are pussy out right now. Maybe he’s looking at your cunt. Maybe he’s fantasizing about when he will get to put it i–

“Look I uhh… I hate ta ask but can I uhh…” his voice pulls you out of the spiral of thoughts plaguing you. 

You peek at him through a sliver between your fingers, “Can you what?” you inquire.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly, the blush spreading over his cheeks again. 

You’re a little confused. Why wouldn’t he touch you? How does he expect to like… do the whole “impregnate” thing without touching you. You’re sure you already gave him the consent. But as you watch him nibble on the dead skin of his bottom lip and his eyes flit to the sheets and sneak glances at your tits, you understand what he means. 

“Oh! Ohhh. Umm yeah…yeah whatever helps,” you say brightly, trying to encourage him you’re ok with it. 

“I'll stop as soon as you say,” he relents. 

“Ok.” 

His hand hovers nervously over your tit, he flexes his fingers as he readies himself. You become hyper aware of your budding nipples in the chilly air of the apartment. They poke through the fabric of your bra and you’ll admit you want him to just get it over with and grab it already. 

When he does, his hand is so warm it shocks you and you intake a sharp inhale. Immediately, he tears his hand away

“What?! What did I hurt ya or—“ His eyes are wide and he almost leaps off the bed in worry. 

You shake your head, “No no! I just…nothing, it's fine. Just keep going,”you assure him. 

How the hell do you tell him it felt way too good for your best friend to grab your tits? You won’t. That’s a dirty little secret you’ll keep to yourself. But when he goes to grab them both and massages them deeply you realize your body might be more of a tell than you thought. 

There’s a moan yo-yoing in your throat. A fierce visceral moan that begs to be released, especially when Katsuki hums and starts to stroke himself again. Setting a nice pace of grinding his fingers into the plump flesh of your tits, flicking your nipple to elicit light gasps from you, and stroking his now noticeably pre-glistened cock, you try your best not to let a peep come from you. 

The last thing he needs is to feel even more awkward after having to ask to touch your boobs for help in getting it up. It worked though. He’s definitely up. And damn… was it always that mouth watering to look at when you first saw it? 

No…mouth-watering is not the best word to describe your best friend’s cock if you’re trying to avoid catching any complicated feelings. Which you are so you whisper a silent scold to your brain to get it together. 

Katsuki’s hands on you make it so very difficult to keep up this ruse of not being completely and totally turned on. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth and your fingers are digging into the mattress at your sides. 

You think he’s caught on to your act when he stops again.  

“Alright what’s the deal? What's with the face and the noises?” he growls. 

You shake your head, “Just keep going! It's fine!” 

To your dismay he doesn’t budge, “It don't look fine ta me!”

God, why can’t he just take the hint and keep going! 

“I'm just trying not to make this all awkward ok?!?

“It’s already awkward!” he insists.

“Yeah well I'm trying not to make it even more awkward! Like you're doing now! Maybe that should be your quirk, the ability to make something awkward even more awkward.” 

“Shut up! Look you can't not tell me what's going on with ya. You need ta talk to me if we’re doin’ this. I can't tell if you’re uncomfortable or whatever if you don't say someth—

You can’t believe this is happening right now.  Katsuki is literally sitting with his dick out arguing with you. God do you really have to say it to him? 

“I'm not uncomfortable! I'm just trying not to moan Katsuki!” you shout at him, blowing an exasperated and embarrassed sigh that makes your lips push out in defeat.

He blinks and jolts back as if surprised. “What?” 

Defeated and now basking in the pure shame and guilt of the moment you groan, “You’re standing over me jacking your dick and fondling my tits! It’s…erotic. And this is not supposed to be an erotic encounter so for the love of pete just keep going so we can get this ov–” 

“Don’t…don’t be silent…” he says now with an expression that is dangerous. Very very dangerous because that is not the way you’d look at your best friend you’re only trying to impregnate as a favor. He’s looking at you like… like he wants you. 

Now it’s your turn to blink in confusion. “What?” 

Katsuki huffs, this entire ordeal finally getting to him, “Look you want me to fucking jack it, right? Listening to moans helps so…ya don't gotta be quiet.” 

He reaches out and lets a finger trace your nipple and you arch up into his touch and let out a breathless sigh that sounds like…heaven. He nods, muttering a sexy “mm hmm that’s it” to himself as your back straightens again. 

Oh fuck this is so much easier when you have the ok to let loose. When he touches you now all the hesitation is gone, between your legs slick dribbles from your cunt and as Katsuki’s pace on his cock quickens, your moans get louder.  

You don’t even have to tell him he can touch your bare chest, he just shuffles one of your straps down to expose your tit and palms it as he moans.  

“My hand cold?” He asks when you jolt at his touch.

“N…no…it’s…so warm…” you pant. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him not to stop. Not only are his hands warm, they’re surprisingly soft. A bit calloused from the hero work but soft as he handles your tits with care. 

He smirks, “Good.” 

Your sounds of pleasure fill the room now, mixed with the lewd wet noises of Katsuki’s hand on his cock, you’re sure it probably sound like you two actually are fucking. Especially when he leans over to gently blow on your nipple. The tip of his tongue flicks it for just a second, only giving himself a tiny sample of you without taking it too far. 

He knows you like it because your moans become gentle coaxes of his name, “Mmm…ah…I…umm Katsu…I Uhh…” 

His name tumbling from your lips seems to be the catalyst for release because his breath hitches again and he finally announces, “I’m getting close…I’m getting close I—I should put it in now.” 

He’s leaking from the tip of his cock and he has the goddamn nerve to rub the head through your folds and tap your clit before he lines himself up. He’s gotten too comfortable or maybe...he’s a little lost in the sauce right now. When you glance up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. 

In fact his stare is hot, piercing as he locks eyes with you. Your lips part again and he bites his own. Is it insane to think about kissing him right now? 

Slowly he enters you, pushing past that first ring of muscle in your pussy and fucking hell you were right about him being the thickest you’ve ever had. You feel yourself open up and part around him as he slides in. You’re so full you swear you can feel him in your stomach and it’s absolutely slutty of you to arch your back and dip your hips forward so he’s embedded even deeper. 

The best part though is watching him as he presses his hips forward. He throws his head back and groans loudly. And the sigh of pure contentment and pleasure that bubbles in his chest is to die for. It’s like…he’s been waiting years to feel this, instead of the frenzied horny dazed minutes of him fucking his own fist.

“Holy shit you’re tight. How come you feel so…oh fuck…” he moans wantonly, his question caught in his throat. His gravelly tone is littered with soft desperate little whimpers you're sure have never breached his lips before. 

Your legs are shaking. 

Unbelievable. 

He’s only just bottomed out, hasn’t moved an inch and your legs are fucking shaking. Every sensitive little nerve in your pussy is firing off messages of pleasure and ecstasy and completely tuned into the cock stuffed inside you right now. 

How can he feel this good? Is it just because of the meds that trigger your ovulation making you more sensitive? Somehow you don’t think that’s the case. There’s electricity shooting up all your limbs as Katsuki’s hands settle on the sides of your waist. Your lips tingle and you truly believe the only way to stop it is to have his lips on yours. He shifts a bit, leaning over you and trying to angle himself in a way that has your head spinning and your eyes fluttering like a slot machine. 

The tip of his cock brushes lightly against your cervix as if giving it a tiny gentle kiss as a warning for the load he will give you. The thought makes all your limbs tighten, makes a knot in your belly constrict and then snap loose as you clench around him and tumble off a cliff and into pure ecstasy. 

Your fingers dig into the sheets at your side, and like lightning he grabs your wrist and pulls them up above your head, intertwining his finger with yours. His body completely covers yours now as his breath washes over your face. He’s staring at you, watching your eyes flutter with a goofy grin and then…

“Oh…oh fuck Katsu—“ 

His lips crash into yours as you speak, his tongue invades, licking and twirling around yours as you hungrily taste him. The tingling in your lips only subsides when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles. You find your legs wrapping around his waist, his tiny enviable waist you’d admired only a few minutes ago, and nudge him forward with the heel of your foot. 

“Squeezin’ that tight I’m gonna fucking cu–” again he stops himself midsentence as his hips grind into you. He can’t bear to pull out to pound into you, obsessed with the way you’re wrapped around him. So he grinds against the soft warm walls of your cunt, letting you massage his cock before he cums with a roar followed by whispered sweet words in your ear. 

The only thing keeping you from passing out right now, is the occasional twitching of his cock as he fills you. It almost feels unstoppable, he’s growling, whimpering, moaning and mumbling like a drunk man as he kisses your shoulder and as you come down now from your orgasm you wrap your arms around his back and card your fingers through the undercut at the base of his neck. 

The two of you stay that way, wrapped up in each other for what seems like forever before he pulls back to look at you with an expression that makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. 

He’s smirking, giddy like a boy who’s just seen a titty for the first time. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know what he’s thinking. 

“Stop it,” you pout with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. 

Katsuki chuckles, the mischievous proud grin only growing wider. “Stop what?” he tries to ask innocently. 

You try to push him away a bit, putting your palms on his chest but of course he doesn’t budge. 

“Stop giving me the ‘I just made you cum’ face,” you retort. 

The grin widens even further, if you can believe it. 

He chuckles, “But I did, didn't I? And based on the way you're still shakin’ I’d bet I was a pretty good one.” Unbelievably he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. 

“Yeah well I made you cum too and you don't see me smirking.” 

“Maybe ya should.” 

“We should not be having this conversation while your dick is still in me twitching so just shut up and wait a few minutes before you pull out,” you grumble. 

In a slightly uncomfortable but tender moment, Katsuki lies his head on your chest and listens to your heart. He traces a series of moles down the valley of your cleavage absently. 

Your face heats and he laughs again. “So much for it not being weird,” you sigh. 

“Knew it would be,” he mutters.

“And you still agreed?” 

“Puffs, if you thought I was gonna pump a baby in ya and then leave ya to raise it without me, then maybe I should think about gettin’ a new best friend cuz my best friend woulda known I could never do some shit like that. Eijiro is in the running for your spot. He knew,” he explains.

That shouldn't make you emotional, deep down you knew he wouldn’t just abandon you. Especially if the kid is his but–

“But what about Number One and–” 

“Can’t I do both? You’re the one who made it an either or thing,” he says shrugging. 

“But do you even…like me…like that?” you ask, blushing again. Ridiculous, you sound like a middle schooler or something. 

“My dick is literally still in you right now and I just told you I’d raise a kid with you. How many other ways do I need to say it, idiot?” He replies incredulously. 

“I mean… An ‘I like you and wanna date you’ wouldn’t hurt,” you say sheepishly. 

Katsuki groans, “For the love of…” and then he takes your face between his fingers and makes you look into his eyes and replies,

 “I like you and I wanna start a damn family with you. There. That good enough?”

---

dividers: @/cafekitsune, @/strangergraphics

Damn it. Period. - k. bakugou 🌹

a/n; originally a request on wattpad - a little mini about what bakugou would be like when reader is on her period. enjoy!

pairing; Katsuki Bakugou x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; slight swearing, implied bleeding/period.

word count; 663

headcanon/summary; it’s not your week. your body is punishing you heavily with both your period and feeling sick with the cold. don’t worry though, because your hotheaded boyfriend is to the rescue. It doesn't seem like it but he has all the patience in the world, well, he does when it comes to you.

links; BNHA Masterlist | Masterlist

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

A pained moan slipped past your lips as you tucked your knees under your chin, hands slightly hugging your hips as you breathed through the pain. A somewhat feeble attempt to help dull the pain due to the congestion your body held.

Your week had started off great, enjoying your classes at UA, as well as spending time with your friends. That was until you were struck down with a cold a few days prior. As the pain ebbed, you let out a contented sigh before an unexpected coughing fit. Before long, you closed your eyes, the increase in your temperature taking you by slight surprise. Moving the book beside you, you felt the weight of the hardcover shift as a shiver ran up your spine. The tingling spreading to all areas of your form.

Normally, you'd be struck with your period and would handle it with no complications. Not giving away any sign of the pain you were in. Lately, you’d been training so hard that you stupidly neglected yourself, paying the price when you caught the flu off your classmate. Once the cramp you had calmed down, you made a half-assed attempt to get out of bed before groaning out at the secondary spams hitting you full force again. "Fuck it".

Grabbing your phone you tapped a quick message, albeit it was a bit harsh to your other half before you laid down. Turning over, you closed your eyes again trying to get some more sleep before they returned home.

With a push of his foot, Bakugou shut the door and sighed out softly, gripping the bag in his hand as he took off his shoes and jacket. He knew you'd been feeling a little under the weather lately but add your period on top as it was a sure recipe for disaster. "Hey, (y/n), I'm home!".

A random sound greeted him as he rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs to find your curled up form in your shared bed. "Suki~".

Dropping the bag of sweet treats on the bedside cabinet, he crawled under the covers beside you, letting out a small "oof" as you practically threw yourself on him. "Suki, it hurts~".

A small whimper left your lips as Bakugou wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I know princess, but it'll pass. I'm here now".

Unusually soft kisses with gentle tummy rubs as tiny whimpers of pain sounded. That’s how Bakugou spent most of the evening and night making you feel slightly better about the assault of bodily pains you felt.

Everyone who knew Bakugou knew him as a loud and aggressive human grenade. Probably someone you wanted to keep on the good side of, that would be if he had a good side, and who you’d want fighting your side.

Then there was you - the one person he would call his better half, his light.

You got the softer side. The soft voice, the gentle hugs and touches. He treated you like a fragile doll that he never wants to break. You were perfect and his world, he had all the patience in the universe for you.

Soft hums that lulled you to sleep as gentle fingers glided over your hair with a soft voice to match the unusual gentleness.

Peering down, his red eyes looked over your sleeping form as a smile tugged at his lips, something that didn’t feel foreign to him now. "I know you don't feel well, princess, but I'll be here to look after you".

He gently moved his body to lay down beside you. His soft grip on you never slacking as he hugged you closer, sleep taking over him as he acted as your human heat pad.

It was a long week for you but you could always count on your very own hero to be there to save you from the pain. Even if it was only in private where no one could see.

just a thought

(Warnings, making out, swearing, media is a bitch, mentions of sex)

imagine this, my good people

Imagine: you're a pro hero, a very public one at that.

So of course you tell the media you and Katsuki are dating. At first, of course, Katsuki isn't too happy with this. He wanted to keep you safe by keeping the relationship a secret, but obviously you had other plans.

Katsuki eventually is cool with it. He doesn't mind people asking about his relationship with you, because its fun for him to pretend they didn't say anything and ignore them. He enjoys seeing their frustration.

"Katsuki, that was rude." You say after he ignores a news reporter. Katsuki just slings his arm around you and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, whatever. Its not my fault they can't mind their damn business." He says, walking you away from all the media.

Katsuki is fine with ignoring them, except for when they ask about your sex life with him. Yes, you do talk about your relationship with Katsuki a lot, but you never planned or wanted to talk about your sex life. Thats very private for you and Katsuki.

The media keeps bugging you about it, and when you refuse to answer, they just jump to conclusions saying ridiculous shit like: Pro Heros [ur hero name] and Dynamite are unsatisfied with each other! Could this mean the end of their relationship?

And of course, Katsuki is fucking furious. This is totally unfair to the both of you!

So what does he do?

Well, the both of you of course end up in a live interview with a TV show host. Little did you know, Katsuki had a plan up his sleeve.

"Now, [Ur hero name], you have previously refused to answer on mentions of your bed relationship with Dynamite." The perverted TV show host brings up.

Katsuki clenches his fists. He HATES when people like him bother you, or even have the fucking audacity to breath the same air as you. He was originally planning on making out with you on live television to get the news to stfu, but he was tired of giving the people what they wanted.

So he folds his arms, raises his eyebrow and roasts the living HELL out of the TV show host. He mocks his actions, looks, anything. Honestly, it was easy. And when Katsuki thinks he's had enough, THEN he makes out with you infront of live television.

He makes sure to shove his tongue down your throat while glaring and flipping of the TV show host.

Afterwords, Katsuki picks you up and leaves with you in his arms.

Oh, how he loves making people wish they were him. And he was totally going to get that TV show host fired for making you uncomfortable.

pandemonium

noun; wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar. Also: a chaotic situation

Katsuki Bakugou X Reader

WC: 1.7K

Just thinking about how Katsuki doesn't realize how loud his life actually is. 

It's no surprise that the pro hero is well known for being loud, and down right rude to top it off. He was content with the life he had led so far. Sure it had its ups and downs, but he made it work in his favor. He was strong and damn near unbeatable when it came to his line of work. 

One of the aspects he hated about his job was the way people looked into his success and failures. Picking through the wreckage of his battles with a fine tooth comb until the paparazzi had something to stalk him about that week. Worming their way into a closed off scene to get the first pictures of the wreckage he managed to leave behind. 

Thye were loud.

Following him foolishly from each scene of battle, all the way back to the agency. And sometimes either the extremely brave, and mostly stupid one trying to follow him home. 

And tonight was no exception. 

He left quite a but of damage to the two blocks of the city he fought in. Damages ranged from broken windows to demolished cars. And a small army of paparazzi and reporters were attempting to follow him as he left the agency for the night. 

It bothered him more than it normally would tonight. Had him barking and yelling insults as the cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions. He was faster, just enough to put a block of distance between them when he spotted a cracked door to the library. 

He took his chance and rushed the door and closed it behind him. Resting his back against the wall keeping a lookout for the crowd to pass by. He could hear their voices and see the lights as they rushed by, a small breath of relief left him as he managed to escape just in time. 

"I'm sorry sir, but the library is closed." Your soft voice rings out in the silence. 

Almost comically slow he turns his head and sees you standing just at the main entrance, with a large stack of heavy books in your hands. Looming taken back by the massive pro standing in your workplace. 

But he also notices the way your struggling to keep the heavy load in your arms. And it's calling out to his base hero instincts to help a civilian out. Not taking longer than a moment to huff and stride over to you and take the books from your hands. 

"Gonna throw yer back out trying to carry that shit" He gruffs, waiting for you to lead the way. 

And you do. 

Quietly, he appreciates it. You don't try to force a conversation or ask him why he's there. You simply lead him down the endless isles and occasionally take a book from the top of his pile and place it on the shelf. Humming softly as you went. Dragging your hand down the spines of the books, double checking you were in the right area for the next book before placing it in the right spot. 

And by the time you pluck the last book from his hands, he feels a weird emotion brewing in his chest. 

Peace. 

His shoulders didn't feel as tight compared to when he walked in. His heart wasn't beating a mile a minute anymore. He didn't want to admit he felt calm with anyone, especially a stranger.

But after that night he learned your name, and you sent him on his way with a gentle nudge out the backdoor and a fucking apple juice box of all things.. 

Perhaps that random act of kindness from you was the reason he found himself doing the same thing a week later. Finding you slowly stacking books on the counter, ready to pull them into your arms when you look over and see him.

"Oh, hello again!" You spoke softly, but the smile you has on your face made him feel warmed. 

The same thing happens again, he carries your heavy stack of books. You hum a song, and he feels lighter than he ever has by the time you take the last book from his calloused hands. 

This time he finds himself not wanting to leave as quickly. Content to watch you from the desk chair as you tidy up for a while. Still happily humming away some song that reminds him of his childhood.

He walks you home that night, claiming that it was too dangerous to let you wall home alone at night. He asks questions, small ones at first. Like where you're from, and how you ended up here of all places. Your likes and dislikes. Finally dropping you off safely at the front door of your home, waiting until your inside and he can hear the lock shut on the other side before he starts his journey home. 

It took him a extra hour of walking, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he climbed into bed that night. 

Those late evenings of sneaking into the library, slowly started to turn into him bringing dinner for you to share, and he eventually started to open up. He also found himself sitting closer to you on the large couch in the back, as you would read. He asked you that one time what you were reading and you started to read it out loud to him. 

It was soothing, listening to your voice. Calm but excited to read him a book he had no real interest in. But the way you read each word had him wanting to hear more. You chipped away small pieces of his hard exterior with only the sound of your voice and the turn of a page. 

He wanted to despise those paparazzi idiots who tailed him after every fight, looking for anything they could use as a headline. The true cockroaches of the earth, as they twist his words and take sneaky photos of him when he looks absolutely feral. Playing up the image that he was more monster than a man. 

 But if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have you. 

Almost two years later he finds himself walking the same familiar path to the library. It looks like the normal crowd of people with the same set of questions and flashing lights following behind him. 

He can't be bothered to outrun them this time though. Instead he smirks as he turns the corner and slips inside the back entrance of the library, walking until he sees you. Sitting in your chair behind the front counter, playing on your phone. 

Your hair is slightly messy, and your shoes kicked off and out of the way. That same stack of large books sitting on the counter, waiting for him. You smile gently at him as he walks into view. It was something he had come to love after all this time. The way such a simple gesture made his heart warm in ways he never thought it could. 

And just like he had so many nights before he takes the stack of books from the desk and lets you lead him down the rows of books. Offering him a run down of your day, leaving him to hum softly when you give him the newest hot gossip with the older ladies.

 He wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

You were the peace to his violence. the beacon of hope he searched for after a rough day. The gentle sway of your hips and the little tap of your fingertips along the backs of the books as you walked.

 It wasn’t the silence in his world he wanted, it was you. 

Your smile, your goofy laugh. The way your arms reached out to pull him in after a hard day. It was were the small things you offered him with for no reason. Contrasting his brute strength and loud personality with something more delicate. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl into a soft smile as he followed behind you, the weight of books lightening the more you wandered. 

And he definitely enjoyed the way you still squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his embrace before he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. Whispering about how much he loves you, into your ear.

 He adored the flustered look you always wore when he said something borderline filthy. Even in the freezing cold temperature of the library, he could feel your skin heat under his fingertips. Being bold enough to push you to sit on a low counter and bully his way between your legs. Sighing softly against his neck as he works his hands under your blouse. 

He lived for the whine you always made when you forced him to stop. Complaing that there were cameras around, and the last thing you wanted was to star in an amature movie while you were at work. 

If he could, he would live in the moment forever. In the safe and silent confines of the Library. 

But instead he does the right thing, and helps you readjust your shirt. Guiding you down from the counter and helping you finish with whatever bullshit task you still needed to complete before he could take you home. 

Flipping off the lights and lacing his fingers with yours as you lock the door behind you. 

The flashing lights and yells of his name didn’t bother him as much now. Because As he pulls you to stop in just the most picture perfect way. Making sure the cameras catch the name of the library above your head, he smirks at them all before he bends down on one knee. Your eyes alive with tears of joy once you realize what is going on. 

Pulling out the box hes been carrying around in his pocket for six months now, and showing it to you. He opens it and he can’t help but let the image of you be burned into his mind for eternity. Your happy squeal and little jumps as he takes the ring out of the box and gives you a look that speaks more than his loud voice ever could. 

“What do ya say, bookworm?” He smirks as you are already nodding your head and whispering yes. “Think the library will care if I check you out and never bring you back?” 

*If you enjoyed this little snippit, please consider leaving a like or a reblog. I enjoy writing, and I would like to know if you enjoyed it as well. Your likes and comments are greatly appericated♥

well, i've been saved by the grace of southern charm—

PLAYLIST | ARTWORK

cowboy!bakugou x f!reader

wc: 20k+

tags: explicit language, smut, 18+, story within a story, toxic relationship (in the past), kids LOL (reader has a niece and nephew), minor mentions of christianity (not related to reader), use of the word daddy in a strictly non-sexual way, bakugou is bad at feelings, grammar is a mess, minor sexism (not to reader), there is nothing linear about this culturally, and a genuine theme about accepting that we deserve better and shouldn't settle for less just because it's comfortable.

for the @mybigbangacademia collab !

“Blasty’s been checking you out for twenty minutes, by the way.”

When you look up at her, she seems pleased and surprisingly entertained and is smiling around the gum she’s chewing, eyes cutting twice in quick succession to the pool table in the back. This is girl code for look, but don’t look and you know that, but you’re still caught up on the Blasty part, because you can’t figure out what that means, and peek over your shoulder anyway.

And then you realize Blasty means the handsome guy leaning next to the jukebox, nursing a half-empty Budweiser and staring hard at the taxidermied bass hanging over the bar above your head. The bartender hisses and you flip back around, frowning a little at her because you’ve just sold her out and she knows it and so does he. Blasty. Who’s been checking you out for twenty minutes, by the way.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

* the incredible artwork for the fic was done by @fittsythesnail ! she's so talented and wonderful to work with and you'd be lucky to receive a commission from her ! please go check out the rest of her work !

* the header artwork was painted by my bestie @moonilla ! i am so thankful to her for rushing it out, and i hope you all appreciate it as much as i do ! ( i tagged her to give credit for her time, but please note that her blog is not an art blog ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ )

we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe // k.bakugou

Rating: MA

Pairing(s): Tamaki Amajiki x fem!reader, Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, heavy angst, emotional cheating, major character death, smut, body horror/graphic injuries, trauma, ptsd, sinkhole accident, medical trauma, hospital scenes 

expected wc: 20k+

Summary: Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams? 

a/n: this is my part for the big bang collab (@mybigbangacademia )! woooooooo!!!! artwork to come by the lovely @/wasabi-gumdrop. uhhhhh what else..... this first part is 5k, and overall i'm gonna have over 20k words lmao, so good luck me and everyone else. also, my ao3 is linked too! have fun with that.

and as always,

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him. 

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control. 

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is. 

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes. 

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue. 

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin. 

You okay? 

The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,you tell the truth. 

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed. 

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny. 

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work.  ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you. 

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer. 

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise. 

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes. 

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking angeny for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé. 

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day. 

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge? 

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today. 

Did you even use your quirk today? 

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch. 

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away. 

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency. 

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning). 

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume. 

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away.  You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever. 

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race.  “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly. 

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .  

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building. 

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now. 

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along. 

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi , you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again. 

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel. 

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind. 

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that… 

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again. 

It meant nothing. Just a random dream. 

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him. 

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms. 

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet. 

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off. 

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings. 

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more. 

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it. 

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur. 

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same. 

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you. 

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them.  You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did. 

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful. 

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him. 

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first. 

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. 

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate. 

None of it matters. You’re happy. 

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. 

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again. 

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. 

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you. 

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call. 

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days. 

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist. 

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break. 

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable. 

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you. 

You both never fought, you were both so compliant. 

But he loves you. 

“I love you,” you say. 

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning. 

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center. 

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,” 

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up? 

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be. 

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma. 

Almost. 

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him.  You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole. 

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life.  Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead. 

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself. 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride. 

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller. 

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red. 

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?” 

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free. 

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him. 

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction. 

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core. 

Yes. “No.” 

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.” 

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner. 

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look. 

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed. 

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter. 

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?” 

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious. 

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea. 

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea. 

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still. 

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too. 

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring. 

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep. 

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast.  You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you. 

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.” 

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love. 

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time.  The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore. 

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what? 

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench. 

You were fine. You were happy. 

Until you made yourself small. 

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small. 

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow. 

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else. 

You don’t know where you fall anymore. 

-(-)-

Soul On Fire Ch.2 I Get It

Soulmates were always something you laughed at. Nobody was perfectly made for another person. The world didn't just click into place. The world didn't seem brighter, nor did you wake up with a mysterious tattoo of their first words to you written on your body.

Soulmates were something that didn't exist in real life.

But when every different version of your boss starts showing up, you start to question if maybe you had the idea of what a soulmate was wrong from the start.

Bakugou X Reader, Soulmate AU

Ao3 / Prev Chapter

General warnings for chapter: Mention of injuries, Slight Angst, Fighting, Aggression, Wound Care, Suggestive Situations, Sexual Tension, Comfort, Mentions of Assault, and Fluff.

Kirishima quickly ushered you out of the kitchen after dinner was eaten. Who told you that he would clean up the dishes since he didn’t cook. Bakugou made his way up the stairs and you were left to do nothing else but lounge on the couch and try to catch up on some work.

You don’t know exactly what time it was, but when you start to come, you feel the gentle sway of your body as you are being carried up the flight of stairs. The familiar aroma of campfire and pine encouraged you to snuggle into the warmth of the person who held you in their arms. Your head tucked gently into the crook of his neck, as Bakugou easily handled opening your door and walking you inside.

He laid you down in bed and pulled the covers over your tired body. Making sure to tuck you in without waking you up. You couldn’t miss the way he lingered around for a few extra moments. Like he was making sure that you were truly ok before he left.

You don’t remember him walking away from the sound of the bedroom door shutting, but you woke up the next morning with a loud yawn. Your body felt like lead and refused to move willingly. You had to take the extra time to force life back into your body with gentle stretching and a couple of minutes of turning your body slowly underneath the covers.

Finding your phone, you tap the screen to see the time and realize it was almost noon!

“Shit.” You mumble out as you finally throw the covers from your body and roll out of bed. The wild events of the last couple of days must have really taken their toll on your body if you slept for that long.

Trudging your way into the bathroom, you decide to start the day as late as it was with a shower. Starting the water, you walk back out and grab one of the matching sets of underwear and leggings with the shirt that went with it.

Tuning the water to your preferred temperature once you made it back. Stripping out of your borrowed clothes, you begin the tedious task of trying to wash your hair without aggravating the injury to the back of your head.

The doctor had said you could get them wet long enough to wash your hair but that you should dry it as soon as possible. You washed your hair, keeping the area as untouched as you could manage. It was tender, so anytime you got too close to touching the stitches you had fair warning it was going to hurt.

But after that, everything else seemed easy to do. Finally, stepping out and wiping the fog from the mirror you set off on doing your morning routine. Brushing your teeth and fixing your hair in a style that would conceal the nasty cut on your head.

Throwing on the clothes you had to compliment the cut and style of the shirt and leggings you bought. You had a little doubt that they would fit initially, but now that you had them on, you could see that you were wrong. They hid what you wanted to hide, but also flaunted the natural curves of your body.

Finally dressed and ready for the day, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. Set on maybe making a cup of coffee to fully wake you up.

Upon entering the kitchen, you found nobody around, but you didn’t find a note sitting between two pill bottles next to the coffeemaker.

‘Had shit to do. Ei and I will be gone most of the day. Take both of these when you wake up.’

It was a simple note and definitely along the same kind of notes Bakugou would leave for you at the office. His neat handwriting was always so pretty, coming from such a masculine guy. You almost expected him to have chicken scratch instead of the somewhat dainty script he writes with.

You were actually kind of jealous of it if you were being honest.

You start the coffeemaker and pick up the pills to inspect them further. Both of which were prescribed to you, and one seemed to be anti-inflammatory and the other a mild painkiller.

You sat them back down on the counter for now. You weren’t in a lot of pain at the moment, but you never knew you might want them later on.

After making your coffee, you sit at the kitchen table and play on your phone. Going through emails and checking your social media for a while until your cup was empty. Locking your phone and sitting it down, you wondered what you could do to pass some of the time for the day.

When I idea hit you that you could always swing by the agency and pick up your computer and a few of those long overdue reports you hadn’t found the time to finish yet.

Maybe one of the side kicks could give you some information on the copycat Bakugou and if he was still there.

That was all the motivation you needed to lace up your new shoes and grab your bag. Making sure that you stopped back by the kitchen for a bottle of water and your medication, in case you needed them after a while.

The clouds completely covered up the sun, and the wind was a little harsh, but you didn’t let that deter you from your destination. It was only a few blocks away if you remembered correctly, and it would do you some good to get some fresh air.

People were busy just like you were. Walking briskly to make the next train and hopefully beat the rain before they got caught up in a storm that was headed their way.

Following your GPS, it was an easy couple of turns before you found yourself outside of the agency building and all of its glory. Tall and modern with lots of windows, it was perfect for letting a ton of natural light in on the days when the sun was shining. The large double doors swing open as two of the girl from the third-floor head out for lunch.

Slipping I’m before the door closed, you stopped by the front desk and asked how things had been in the two days you had been gone. The old lady at the reception desk fanned over, being able to see your face once again. Offering you a piece of candy as she did every day that she worked.

It was always from the same stash that she kept locked in one of the drawers, a little Carmel salt water taffy. Only today she hands you the rest of the bag, giving you about a dozen pieces, as a welcome back to work present.

It was very sweet of her; you know how much of a sweet tooth the Older woman had, but ever since you had started here she had taken to spoil you a little like this.

She takes a little time to talk to you while you pop the taffy in your mouth but finding the opportunity to leave her behind once her phone starts to ring, waving softly as you head towards the elevator.

People got on and off on different floors as you rode all the way to the top. Pulling out your phone, you pay them no mind as they keep to themselves.

Once you made it to your floor, you walk over to your desk. Packing away your laptop in your bag and grabbing the various files that you had stashed away. You look around to see if either of your bosses were in, but it looked like it had been a while ago. Sighing, you pack away the rest of what you need and head back down towards the main floor.

But once you made it down there, it seemed like you had picked the wrong time to come to ask any questions. All the sidekicks were either out on patrols or on a lunch run. But you didn’t let that get you down for long.

If you remembered correctly, Kirishima had said that they were keeping the mystery man in one of the holding rooms a couple of floors down. Maybe you could soothe your curiosity and take a peek and see if he was still there or if they had found a more permanent place for him.

Hopping back on the elevator, you ride it down four more levels, the soft ding signaling that you had made it to the bottom-most floor of the building.

You hated it down here. There was no sun, and it was always so much colder down here than anywhere else. You understood completely why they had these rooms down here, but that didn’t stop you from getting the creeps each time you had to venture your way here to find one of your bosses.

There were four holding rooms in total, with a small kitchen space and a spare room that could handle paperwork or be used as a meeting room. But you spotted him almost immediately as soon as you stepped into the spare room. It gave you a view into each room via a two-sided mirror. Exactly like you have seen in countless cop movies.

But he was there.

Sitting head slumped forward and hands restrained to the table in front of him. He was still covered in plaster and soot from the other night.

You felt a pang of sadness settle in your chest at the sight of him. And before your mind could catch up to your body, you were quietly cracking open the door and stepping inside. He still didn’t lift his head, but he was clearly awake. Because you could hear him no doubt forming words in his native tongue.

Whatever he was saying, he said it a little sluggishly. Like he hadn’t been able to move or stretch since he arrived here.

“Hi,” you say softly from the door.

And the sound of your voice had his head snapping up in an instant, a smile on his face even though he had dried blood caked on the side of the temple and a busted lip.

He was smiling at you, and your name rolled off his tongue with a sigh of relief.

You give him a tiny wave, and watch as he attempts to mimic you, raising his hand as high as he could with the restraints on his wrist to wave back. But he was looking at you the same way the other night.

Like you were a sight for sore eyes.

Feeling brave, you decide to step a little closer but still stay far enough away to keep yourself safe. Despite the previous encounter with the strange man, you didn’t want to give him another chance to overpower you again.

But you feel your guard being let down when he softens and says your name again. Not gruff and harsh like the other words he had been putting together, but gentle enough to tug at the strings of your heart.

He looked tired the closer you got to him. Dark circles under his eyes and the blood crusted on the corner of his mouth were starting to aggravate his skin, and the wound on the side of his head looked like it was still painful.

And by the time you even realize it, your hand was reaching out to touch his cheek.

His skin felt like it was on fire under your fingers. As he leaned into your touch, much like a cat when they want you to pet them. Nuzzling his head further into your hands with a soft sigh.

You watch as his shoulders lower and his body starts to relax with you near him like he felt safe enough to let his guard down. You felt the need to at least get him cleaned up. And you wished that you could find out if he had eaten anything or not.

That was when you had the idea that you could run and grab a first aid kit and something to eat from the kitchen upstairs. It would be quick in less than ten minutes. Get him fed and cleaned up and out of here before anyone notices.

“Bakugou.” You say the name softly, hopefully gaining his attention.

You hear him grunt and open his carmine eyes and look at you.

“Katsuki.” He grunts out the first name you know so well.

You pull away from him, and he frowns at the loss of contact. But you stand and make the motions with your hands, hopefully trying to ask him if he was hungry. Nodding his head slowly, you understood he was willing to accept your offer.

You hold up a single finger, letting him know you would be back, and rush out the door. Despite his angry-sounding complaints, you head back to the elevator and beeline to the kitchen a few floors up.

The company hired a new chef to make lunch for most of the employees here. The new chef prepared fresh salads and a selection of fresh foods that could be eaten in a rush.

Lucky for you, nobody else was in the kitchen when you arrived. Giving you ample opportunity to sneak in and out without being noticed. You grab one of the small salads and started filling up a takeaway container of other foods. Some rice and fried chicken. A heaping helping of roasted veggies before closing the container and rushing back the way you came.

It was easy to locate the first aid kit once you got back to the basement. Put away and easily visible sitting on the wall, you snatch it off with your free hand and make your way back to your mystery man in the next room.

His eyes were on you as soon as the door started to open. Walking inside, you go and sit both of the items in your hands down on the table in front of him. But you quickly realized his hands wouldn’t be able to feed himself.

It left you in a tough situation.

You either kept your distance to keep yourself safe, or you could sit on the table in front of him and feed him as quickly as possible, and clean his wounds.

It wasn’t like he could really do anything to you restrained like he was.

It was an almost automatic response. Climbing across the table until you could sit with your legs hanging outside of his own. Your feet dangling just outside his muscular thighs, you try to scoot yourself closer before reaching behind you to grab the food.

Instantly, his hands reach as far as they could and rest on your hips, squeezing the fat beneath his fingers softly before he tries to pull you closer to him. The heat from his palms felt burning hot even with a barrier of your leggings separating you from him.

It seemed like having you in close quarters like this was soothing something inside of him. His features soften and a lazy smile graces his lips as he looks up at you. Opening the takeaway box, you grab the utensils and gather a bite of food, motioning with your mouth for him to open his.

And he let you feed him with no problem, eager to receive the small intimate act of you taking care of him. More than content at the moment to feel your body against his while you fed him bites of food. This felt oddly like the right thing to do. It wasn’t something you had an answer for but you didn’t question it either.

Just happy to live in the moment.

And to no surprise, he ate every single bite you offered him. You started to wonder if he hadn’t eaten in a while or if he just seemed to like you as you set about opening the salad you grab. Still feeling his loose grip on your hips as you pour your dressing and toss the vegetables around. Taking a couple of bites before you offer him some as well. But unlike before, he turns his nose up at your leafy greens and grunts in disappointment.

The sight of him acting childish about eating vegetables made you giggle. This was the first time you had ever seen an adult ever turn down something that was good for them.

But the way he looks up at you when he hears your voice made your stomach jitter around with butterflies. He was giving you that soft little smile again, and it was becoming harder and harder to deny you enjoyed the look of his happiness.

“You sure you don’t want a bite?” You ask, offering him yet another bite of the salad in your bowl.

And yet again, she scrunched up his nose and turned his head.

“Bakugou. “You coo sweetly at him. Hoping that maybe he would answer the name of your boss again.

“Katsuki.”

Much to your surprise, he corrects you. So far, the only word you had understood from him was your name, and that he liked to be called by your boss’s first name.

You had to remind yourself, though, this wasn’t actually your boss. The two of you didn’t speak the same language, and even if he was your boss, he would never allow you to be familiar enough to use his first name so casually.

Sitting down your food, you decide now was the time to try to clean him up, or at least what you could. You knew that you didn’t have long left before people would no doubt start flooding back into the agency, and someone was bound to catch you in here.

Placing the med kit in your lap, you get to work opening it up. Pulling out ointments and bandages, hoping he didn’t suffer anything worse than a few bruises and cuts like the real Bakugou had.

He lets you take a wipe and clean at the cut above his brow, your hand gently holding his chin in place as you examine the small injury. It wasn’t deep, but it was irritated and red around the edges. Sighing softly, you pat around the area in hopes of keeping his anger at bay. You didn’t need two angry blondes after you today.

Even when he winced from the sting of the antiseptic hitting the wound, he didn’t try to pull away or scare you off. He just closed his eyes and leaned more into your touch.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

The angry bark from the door causes you to squeak in fear, instantly the Bakugou in front of you tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you from the table and into his lap, your legs clumsily landing outside of his as he attempts to hide you from the other very angry blond in the room. The rough growl he sends his way rumbles through his chest and vibrates off your own.

You can hear his angry stomps towards you like a warning bell for death. He was pissed, and he had a right to be. Despite the intense and feral sounds coming out of the man you sat on top of, the real Bakugou leans down and wraps his arm around your waist, freeing you from the lap of the other man. His yelling only got more aggressive and desperate the further Bakugou carried you away.

“I was only feeding him, and making sure he was ok!” You try to reason with your boss.

It wasn’t like you came here to let him loose in public or anything.

“Thought I made myself clear last night that you weren’t gonna go anywhere near him!” Now it was his turn to scold you.

He struts all the way to the door and finally sets you back down to stand, his body almost shielding you away from the imposter still tied up halfway across the room. His glare made you want to run all the way back home, but you had good intentions of coming here.

“Yeah, but I-!”

“But what?” He barks, leaning down further into your personal space. “Thought that I wouldn’t know where you went?” He asks mockingly. “That I didn’t think you would try to sneak off at some point? I’m not an idiot, sweetheart.”

All the while, is he berating you, you hear the other blonde that just a minute ago was so soft and willing to let you touch and bandage him, matching the volume and tone of the original in front of you. Ranting and raving about who knows what, but either way, the harsh-sounding words escaping his mouth you felt were directed towards your boss.

Only serving to piss him off more.

Whipping his head around, he snaps at the copycat at the table.

“Nobody can understand, you dipshit!”

But that didn’t make the other blonde stop running his mouth at all. If anything, it only served to have him amplify his already booming voice even louder, quickly jutting his middle finger toward your boss with a nasty smirk on his face.

“Yeah fuck you too, you copycat bastard!” And Bakugou, as childish as it seemed, only meets his middle finger with one of his own, before he drags you out of the room.

Your name echoed off the walls as you both left the still-injured blond locked to the table.

“Will you just listen to me?” You yell at him and dig your feet into the tile.

If he wanted to, he could easily start to drag you again, but instead, he stops when you start to resist. His shoulders move up and down as he tries to calm his breathing, refusing to turn around and look at you just yet.

“What you gonna tell me he is just some harmless puppy? Cause he fucking smiled at you?” He says lowly turning his head to the side. “Did you forget who had to come to save your ass in the middle of the night from him? Or the way he had you pinned to the fucking bed, two seconds away from rap-“

“Woah! What are you doing here, sweetpea?” Kirishima asks as the elevator doors open and he sees the two of you standing there fuming.

Bakugou’s snarky reply was cut off by his partner, a look of worry in his ruby eyes as he walks off the elevator and towards you. Quickly trying to diffuse the situation by placing himself between you and the explosive blond.

“I don’t think he wants to hurt me!” You yell, looking to the redhead that tried to separate you from Bakugou. “Or else he would have done it already!”

It wasn’t like you to get this emotional over a complete stranger, but you felt the pain of his isolation start to weigh on you.

“We talking about copycat?” Kirishima asks, turning his attention towards you.

“Little sneak was in there alone with the fucker.” He seethes, glaring at you over Kirishima’s shoulder.

“And look!” You say, turning your body in a circle as if to prove your point. “Not a single thing wrong with me!”

“See! I knew that he wasn’t going to hurt her.” Kirishima says all too happily for Bakugou to stand.

“Don’t encourage this shit. Just get her out of here.” He barks at his friend.

You can see the reluctance brewing in the redhead’s eyes as he goes back and forth on who he should side with.

“I, I think he maybe you!” You blurt out after a moment of silence, the tension becoming too much for you to stand any longer. “Or at least a different version of you.”

But all Bakugou does is roll his eyes at the statement.

“Yeah right. And why is that, hah?”

He was trying to stare you down, intimidate you to back away. But even if you couldn’t explain what it was that was keeping to try to plea for this mystery man…

You knew you were right.

“Please. Can you just trust me?” You ask, finally letting the anger fall from your face in hope that a softer approach would work on him.

And he tries for a good minute to avoid looking at you. He stares at Kirishima and then to the floor. Only to look down at the new tennis shoes on your feet before he slowly takes a deep breath and drags his gaze to meet the big doe eyes you were trying to kill him with.

“You get five minutes to prove this shit, or else.”

You could tell he hated to give in, as pigheaded as you knew he could be. It took a lot for him to bend to someone as delicate as you.

It wasn’t easy to convince Bakugou to stay outside the room and simply study what you saw from the two-way mirror, but with a little extra convincing and help from Kirishima, you agreed.

Steeling your nerves, you give yourself a moment before you walk back through the door. And the Bakugou still shackled to the table was back to having his head hung low, his arms resting on the table in front of him.

You walk inside and gently shut the door behind you, taking your time to be cautious of the blond in front of you, just in case.

It was only when you gently reached out to touch his shoulder did he react. His movements were defensive with a loud roar as soon as you touched him.

But when his eyes land on you, the fire and rage in his eyes dies almost instantly, replaced once again by the calm demeanor he had graced you with before.

Your name fell softly from his lips.

“Hi,” you offer him softly with a small wave of your hand.

He smiles as he mimics your gesture with a wave of his own. “Hi.”

And honestly, him being able to understand you, even if it was something small, made your heart flutter. You motion back to the medical kit that had fallen to the floor in the scuffle earlier and he nods his head as if giving you permission to finish what you started.

And once you pick up all the scattered bits and pieces and place them back in the box, you resume your position from earlier. This time he leans back far enough so you could climb over his arm and helps you sit back on the table, his hands once again coming to rest gently against your hips.

This time, though, he kept himself busy studying your features as you worked on his injuries. His hands toying with the hem of your shirt like he was trying to remember the way it feels between his fingers. Occasionally, the tips of his fingers would touch your skin. Skimming along the elastic waist of your leggings.

He wasn’t doing it with any real purpose; it was just something to soothe himself and maybe you too. The warmth of his hands keeps you in place as you look him over once more.

Satisfied with your work, you finally turn to put all the unused supplies away, ready to set the box aside until you glance down at the table and see just how best up his hand was. Quickly, you turn and pull his other hand to where you could see it better.

Sure enough, it looked just as rough.

Patches of green and purple lined his knuckles and fingers. A couple of his massive fingers were swollen and looked too stiff and sore to move. Not to mention the condition of his wrists.

Turning towards the two-way mirror, you motion for either of the men on the other side to come into the room.

“What’s up, sweetpea?” Kirishima asks popping his head into the room.

You can hear the rumble of Bakugou’s chest as he prepares for another round of arguments, but you were quick to reach out a hand and run it through his soft spiky hair.

“I wanna fix his hands, but,” your trail off, not exactly sure of how to ask for what you wanted.

“You know he will never agree to that,” Kirishima says, almost disappointed.

“Please, I can’t leave him like this. It’s bad enough he’s been chained to this table for days.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It only takes about thirty seconds before you hear a boom and a no in the form of a yell. Rolling your eyes, you count the seconds until the familiar stomps of your angry boss steadily grow closer.

“I said you had five minutes to convince me. I didn’t say jack shit about uncuffing the bastard!” He barks.

“Look at his hands!” You plea with the blonde, turning to face him.

“What about my fuckin hands huh?” He yells, and you feel the tell-tell signs of the exact situation happening once again.

The yelling, the growling. The way his hands started to latch onto your thighs, ready to jerk you into his lap as a means of protecting you. You needed to stop this petty argument before it had a chance to start back up. If any of you stood a chance at figuring out what was happening here, you needed to be quick.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before you give them both a yell of your own.

“Katsuki Bakugou!”

Both men freeze up at the use of the shared name. There was an overwhelming moment of silence following the boom of your own voice. No longer was anyone trying to grab at you or argue. Eyes wide as they almost reel back from the anger you displayed.

“Please. He isn’t going to hurt me. I need to take care of his hands.”

It takes him longer than you thought it would before you hear him speak again, although this time his voice was softer now.

“And how do you know that?” He grumbled

And it was simple.

“Would you hurt me?” You ask him, and you watch as he shakes his head no. “Then he wouldn’t hurt me. He is you. I know you don’t want to believe it.” You say, turning back to the injured blond between your legs. “Help me help you.”

The room was silent yet again. The only sound you hear is the jingle of keys by your side, and the sight of something silver floating to your left. Your boss stood there still skeptical, but willing to let you prove him wrong.

And when you turned to take the keys from his hands, you gave him a smile. Noticing just how busted his hands looked as well. Looks like you had more than one reckless blond to take care of today.

“Thank you.”

“He’s dead if he hurts you. Hope you can tell him that.”

You nod and wait for your boss to leave the room before you attempt to reach for the other Bakugou’s hand. One by one, you move the cuffs around and unshackle him from the restraints.

He just sat there patiently with his hand still on the table. Not moving until you reach for the medkit again and grab a couple of things. Letting you guide his hands into your lap as you look over the bruised and broken skin.

He hisses slightly when you apply some pressure, but nothing that made you worry. To make your boss feel better, you worked quickly to bandage his hands.

Luckily for you, it didn’t take long at all, even though you had two sets of identical crimson eyes staring at you. Working diligently, he keeps his hands to himself this time.

“I know we can’t really understand each other, but,” you start giving his bandaged hands one more look. “But I feel like I can trust you to behave.”

Peering up, you lock eyes with the copycat in front of you. He looked exhausted, and a little worse for wear at the moment. Now that his injuries were taken care of and he had some food, you could see the way his eyes started to feel heavy. A loud yawn escapes his mouth just as he goes to try and wipe the creeping sleep from his eyes.

He surprises you when you feel him trace his fingers over your hand, causing you to show him your palm as he gently turns your wrist. His thumb caresses the pulse point in your wrist as his hand covers yours.

He mutters softly as he looks at you. His eyes filled with a longing that you could almost mistake for homesickness. Both of you could feel the way your quiet time together was coming to an end quicker than you would have liked. But he was more understanding this time around.

He leans forward, shortening the distance between the two of you, his forehead resting softly against yours, and just sighs. His eyes closing as he finally relaxes for a moment.

You don’t know what he said, but you feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your cheek and pulls you in the short distance to place a gentle kiss on your lips. Although this time they were a little chapped and still sore from where they were busted in the corner, he took the pain in stride.

Brushing his nose against yours in an act of intimacy you haven’t partaken in for what seems like years. It didn’t last long, but you felt the heat of them even after he pulled away. Finally, dropping his hands away from you and back down to the table at your sides.

As much as it hurt to have to place the cuffs back on him, you still did it to appease your boss. He was just on the other side of the glass, watching you.

No doubt angry and filled with anxiety as he waited for this whole thing to be over with.

Your copycat didn’t fight this time, as you finally drag yourself away from him. He simply just stared at you as you gathered your supplies and head back toward the door.

“I’ll try and come back soon, ok?” You say with a sad smile.

You really didn’t want to leave him here.

But the last thing you wanted to do was push your luck even further than you already had with your shenanigans. Because as soon as you close the door, leaving the sad blond behind, your vision was soon filled with one that was seething.

He was standing just off to the side of his redheaded friend, who looked like he was trying to talk him down, but his focus was on you. Eyes overflowing with anger, but something else just lying underneath it.

‘Take her home Red." He says, eyes locking with you briefly before he turns his attention back to the redhead at his side and walks off.

You felt horrible that he was so upset with you. The last person you wanted to piss off was him. He saved you. He was housing you as well. And all he wanted was for you to rest up in his home and leave him to do his job.

Your feet start to move towards him as he hits the button on the elevator, but Kirishima’s arm shoots out to stop you before you could get any closer.

“Give him some time to cool off.” He says as he pulls you gently to his side.

But you couldn’t just leave him like this. It was clear he was angry at you, and the last thing you wanted to do was get even more on his bad side. You had seen the wrath he could bring down people who didn’t know not to test him.

“But I need to apologize.” You say softly, still looking at the closed door.

Glancing back to the tall redhead next to you, he just gives you a knowing look.

“He’ll be alright in a couple of hours. Let’s get you home for now.”

And that afternoon Kirishima walked you back to your shared home. Making sure that he kept a watchful eye on you the entire time. Bakugou, on the other hand, was avoiding you like the plague. He was coming home late and leaving before you had the chance to even crawl out of bed.

And after four days, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It was eating away at you that he was avoiding you like this. So you made the decision to follow him to the agency. Dead set on making him finally speak to you.

You woke up early. By looking at the time on your phone, you saw it was just shy of five am. With a soft yawn and a few minutes of bending and stretching your body back to life, you slip into your clothes. Tiptoeing your way to the front door with your tennis shoes in your hand.

You heard the door shut about ten minutes ago, and you wanted to give him a chance to get to the agency and settle in before you confronted him.

You had it planned out perfectly.

He had a routine he liked to follow. On days that he had a light load, he took a jog to the agency. Spending some time in the gym there before he showered and made his presence known. Leaving the door to his office open and available for you to come in and deliver notes and go over reports.

Always at the ready with your clipboard and a fancy pen.

He always told you just how ridiculous you always looked when you walked, in the same way, each morning. Coffee in one hand, while you carried your clipboard, clutched to your chest. Telling you it didn’t have to be right that second that you had to go over everything and you were allowed time to fully wake up. But still, he never complained about having you there.

And by the time you made it to the doors of the agency, you saw that the lights were still dim. No sight of anyone or anything alive, stirring behind the tall glass doors to the lobby. But as per usual, you typed in your security code and let yourself inside. Greeted with the silence of a still sleeping building and no one around to wake it quite yet.

Wandering your way into the kitchen, you set yourself up to make a cup of coffee and a tea for your grumpy boss. While he was never the type of person to need caffeine, a little peace offering couldn’t hurt.

But as you finish your drinks and move to the front door of his office, you notice the lights were off and the door was still locked. Leaving you to wonder where the angry blonde might be. So, with a curious walk, you make your way down to the elevator once again and head down to the floor with the gym. If he wasn’t in his office yet, maybe he was still down there.

But instead of being met with the harsh drums of some heavy rock song blasting on the speakers, you are once again in the dark. No lights or sounds, anything that would give you the indication that life was around.

Maybe he made an extra stop on his way here? Or maybe you missed something on his schedule. Pulling out your phone, you pull up the pro’s calendar and look at the date.

And it all made sense once you saw what today was.

Both Kiri and Bakugou were going to be out-of-town today, some semi-annual ‘bullshit’ meeting on the other side of the city. The same one you basically had to force him to attend, even if he thought it was pointless.

Which meant both of your bosses were going to be gone for most of the day.

Almost instantly your mind wanders to the almost barbaric copycat still sitting in the basement. You had promised him that you would come back to see him, and conveniently Bakugou wasn’t going to be around today.

And before you even realize it, you are in the elevator and heading down to the lower floor. The silence of the morning is almost soothing as you wait. The automatic lights turn on as soon as the doors open. Each step you take causes another light to come to life, all the way down the short hall.

Only your mystery man wasn’t in the same room as he was before.

It was clean and showed no sign of having anyone inside of it. Which you hoped meant that they had placed him in a holding cell. Picking up your pace, you hit the button that would bring you to the set of rooms you needed.

In a secure location, with only one exit. There he was. An arm was thrown over his eyes as he lay on his back. The harsh fluorescent lights shone too brightly for the small space he was locked in. You watch him for a moment, relieved that he looked to be ok. The steady rise and fall of his chest was an indicator that he was still breathing.

Even from this distance, he looked like he was fairing far better than he had been just a short while ago. His hands were now bandaged better than what you were able to do, and he looked clean. He didn’t have any lingering specks of soot or dust clinging to his hair or face. His clothes had been changed out of the primitive attire, for something that looked more modern. Simple and light, more than enough to have him pass as a normal citizen of the city.

Now that he was in the black sweatpants and matching black t-shirt, it would be almost impossible to tell the difference between him and the real Bakugou. The only real indication this was your copycat was that he was slightly bigger than the real one. Bulkier than you were used to seeing every day, but still so much alike.

It hurt to see him still locked up in here. It had been days since he had seen the sun, let alone step a foot outside. The thought crossed your mind about just how scared he might be. Even if he only showed himself to be fearless and unstoppable, being in a whole new world and not able to speak or understand how anything works must be upsetting.

An intrusive thought crossed your mind.

What if you let him out? Nobody was around to stop you, and maybe you could pry some kind of answer out of him if Bakugou weren’t around to stop you. You could slip him out of the agency and hide away for a while. IT wouldn’t be just beneficial for you to help him out, but you would be helping your bosses figure out a little more about this guy. Maybe put you back in the good graces of Bakugou.

It didn’t matter at this point, anyway. Your boss was already avoiding you, might as well give him an actual reason to be mad, right?

Right?

Logic and reason didn’t have a lot to do with the events of the past week. Nothing made sense, and you hoped that your theory was right.

The pad that kept the room locked was staring at you. The keypad mocking you for not realizing that you would need the password to unlock it. So you type away all the important dates you could remember. Bakugou’s birthday, Kirishima’s, the date the agency was officially handed off to the pair.

But nothing seemed to work.

As a joke you go to type in your birthday, frustrated that you didn’t think your plan through. But what shocked you, even more, was the keypad lighting up green and the sound of the door unlocking.

That roused the head of the sleepy copycat to pop his head up towards the door. Waiting for you to turn the knobs and enter his room.

“Hi,” you speak softly to your copycat.

A small smirk finding its way to his lips as he sits up, speaking your name, his voice still drenched in sleep. You can’t deny the sight of him brings a smile to your face. Even if he wasn’t your boss, there was just something that was pulling the two of you into the same orbit.

With a roll of his shoulders and popping his knuckles, he sits up and stands from the bed. Giving his stiff neck a gentle roll before he walks over to you. His still-bandaged hands reach out to you and pull you to his chest. Hot hands land on your hips as he envelops himself in you. Dipping his nose down until you feel it nuzzle into your hair. His soft puffs of air soothed your nerves about what you were doing.

As much as you enjoyed this, you had to get him out of here.

It wasn’t fair. He had proved to you that he wasn’t a threat, not just physically, but you could feel it deep in your gut.

Pulling away, you set your half-baked plan into motion. Taking his hand into yours and quickly leading him out of the small cell and into the elevator. You didn’t ecstasy know what you were going to do once you were out of the agency, but anything had to be better than this.

The world was still in the early stages of waking up. Lucky for you that meant that there would be fewer people around to witness a giant half-feral man who was letting you drag him along down the sidewalk. The sun was just starting to poke its head above the horizon, and a slight chill ran through your body.

Taking your time, you slow down as you walk. Allowing him to take in the world around him. His eyes bounced from the signs hung above the roads, to the way the neon signs of the coffee shops and bakeries flashed brightly.

He seemed so enamored with everything; you hadn’t thought about it before but it must be off-putting to be here. Thrust into a part of the world that didn’t look the same. You had no idea what his home looked like, but by the way, his eyes were on high alert. You can only assume it was nothing like this.

From the way his eyes lit up like that of a child when they see something new, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. The noise and hustle of the city was making him overstimulated, as far as you could tell from his body language anyway.

Maybe you could take him to the park? Or away from the main part of the city for a while. Just something to calm down his overstimulated mind, and spend some much-needed time without others around.

As you pass the huge display window of a shop, the idea hits you.

You could take him on a small picnic over by the mountain. You didn’t have to hike it, of course, but it would be perfect. Spend a little time tucked away in nature, and make sure he ate a proper meal.

You’ve heard the stories that Kirishima and Bakugou would talk about when they went. On the slim chance they had a day off together, they would make the plan to explore a new area. The mountain in question was a favorite of theirs. Easy enough to climb in a few hours, and offered a wonderful view from the top.

With the weather still warming up, the chance that you would run into other people up there was slim.

With an idea finally settled on, you squeeze his hand softly to gain his attention. His eyes finally settle back on you as he hears the honk of a car passing by.

“I know you can’t understand me, but I have a plan.” You smile as you speak, hoping that he would trust you.

He meets your smile with one of his own. The small lopsided smile filling you with a sense of peace. And he lets you lead him down the street. Flowing down the sidewalk until you reach the place you needed to go first.

The grocery store.

Luck was on your side when you read that it was open. Tugging him gently behind you as you enter the store. He watches the place with a cautious eye as you pick up a basket and start to make your way down the aisles. Picking various items and placing them in your basket.

Anything and everything you could think of that would be convenient to eat on your adventure to the mountains. Fresh strawberries and apples. Cheeses and meats, hoping that you could make a lazy charcuterie board.

You still glance behind you every so often to check on him. He would occasionally reach out and look at the items on the shelves. Poking and squeezing the items, figuring out what each thing was.

He really was taking in the world much like a child would. Touch and sounds being his guide on working out what something might be.

It didn’t take long at all to gather up a nice spread of food to be eaten. Satisfied that you had managed to grab enough to at least keep him full enough until. you could bring him back. They even had a picnic basket kit of sorts on the shelf. Everything you would need to have a convenient outdoor experience. They included cute but simple plates and utensils, along with a small blanket.

You swipe it fully, intending to use it.

As you tug him along through the check outline, you are quick to place your food into the basket and pay for your items. Tapping your phone and paying before you leave.

After that, it was an easy path to get to your destination. Pulling out your phone and following the path, it directed you down. Past the busy lights and sounds of the city and into something softer and less daunting. The air already felt fresh here.

Crisp and clean as the trees started to grow thicker and taller the longer you walked. The smell of dewy grass and flowers invades your sense of smell and you take in a deep breath.

It felt like a whole other world out here.

And as you expected, the hiking trail was empty except for the two of you. The cool temperatures of early spring were more than enough to ward away most novice hikers.

Katsuki seemed to be feeling a little better if the quick glances you gave him were any indication. His eyes weren’t bouncing back and forth anymore, and his head wasn’t snapping towards every sound, looking for a threat to appear.

No, now he was doing the same as you. Taking in deep breaths and sighing out of relief. His hand gripped yours a little looser now that the city's busy life was behind you.

Turning your head back to face in front of you, you point to a worn sign just up the trail.

“I figured we could hike a little way and stop for some food if that’s ok.” You tell him more than to ask.

Forgetting for the moment that he couldn’t understand anything you were saying. He gives you a soft nod as if he could and lets you lead him. Cupping his hand tighter in yours as you pull him to stand beside you. You had the fleeting feeling like he would let you lead him to the end of the earth if you desired.

Which was a feeling you never thought you would have about anyone.

But like everything else in your life as of late, you couldn’t exactly explain what your life was anymore. Not a lot made sense, especially when it came to Bakugou or his clone. You were simply letting your heart move on its own, and so far, it hadn’t led you into too much trouble.

The further you walked up the trail to the forest, the more you realized you weren’t meant for hiking.

What were once steady breaths of air leaving your lungs had become labored. Your shoes that used to be comfortable were now hurting the arches of your feet. You were struggling, and you hadn’t even made it to the difficult part of the hike yet. You slowly started to curse under your breath the longer you were walking. The incline of the hill stole your breath before you could muster up more than a few words.

But the chuckle at your side stops you from muttering.

Glancing over, you see Katsuki’s amused expression. He had the tiniest amount of teeth showing as he watched you attempt to scale the start of the mountain. Stealing the insult you were about to berate him with as he poked fun at your misery.

Before you could utter the words, he tugs you to a stop, pulling you into his arms. Leaving you a little confused for a moment before he is moving you around. His hand leaves you for only a moment until he is bending down to one knee in front of you, offering you an uninterrupted view of the massive muscles dancing behind the compression shirt on his back.

Turning his head slightly and wrapping a hand around yours, he guides you to stand closer, leaving you to catch on to what his plan was. His other hand wrapped around your thigh, and in one quick movement had you lifted onto his back.

Easily baring the extra weight as you adjust your arm to grab for stability. He was just as quick to take the basket from your other hand and continue on your walk. He wasn’t struggling in the slightest to carry you up the steadily increasing terrain. His muscles worked effortlessly, moving with smooth precision as he enjoyed himself.

And you were too after you got over the initial embarrassment of being carried around like this. The heat radiating off his body pulled you into him further, enjoying the way he kept the chill of the morning from your skin.

It was so calm out here, so different from what you had grown accustomed to. There were no honking cars or people shouting, just the sounds of nature to soothe your mind. You could get used to this, the birds chirping and the gentle sway of the trees as the wind moved them. The moment felt almost perfect.

Until you felt the jarring vibration of your phone in your back pocket.

As safe as you can manage, you reach around and pull out your phone, looking at the screen. It was Kirishima’s happy and sharp-toothed grin filling your screen.

You heavily debated for a moment if it was safe to answer his call, or if you should let it go to voice email. But after, it would seem more suspicious if you ignored it.

“Hi,” you speak into your phone as you hold it up to your ear.

“Hey Sweetpea, just wanted to call and see how you’re holding up?” He says happily.

“I’m OK, just taking the time alone to catch up on some things. I completely forgot that you were both out of the office today.”

“Yeah, thought about shooting you a text this morning, but figured it would be easier to call.”

Katsuki turns his head slightly, slowing his movements as he looks back to you and the device held up to your ear. He goes to try and open his mouth before you are shaking your head in a silent plea for him to remain quiet.

“I’m actually about to get in the shower. Want to call me later? I’ll be fine by myself. I don’t want to distract you from your duties.”

“It’s not a problem to check up on my favorite assistant.” He says way too fast for your comfort.

It was like he already knew that something was wrong. Like he knew exactly what you were doing.

You try to make yourself sound convincing, but you were never that great of a liar. The only thing working in your favor was that Kirishima could see your face trying to work out a decent lie.

“I’m fine, really. I appreciate you calling to check up on me. But I left the shower running while I was getting my clothes! Sorry to have to cut our talk short.” You force yourself to get into character. Apologizing softly as Katsuki picks back up walking with you on his back.

“Is that all?” He says, a little disappointed. “Well, guess you better get in the shower before the hot water runs out.”

“Your right! Well, ill see you this evening!” You sigh as you feel the lick of victory set in that you had managed to pull off your half-assed lie.

Fumbling with your phone and mumbling a curse under your breath, you go to hit the red button to end the call before Kirishima’s voice catches you off guard. Your name is echoing out of the receiver, making you pause and lift the phone back to your ear.

“I caught the alarm before Bakugou saw it, by the way.”

Fuck.

You were stupid to think that you would ever be able to pull anything over on either of them. Of course, they would have an alarm on the door. That was probably the entire reason why he called was to get you to confess.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was a last-ditch effort on your part and a lame one at that. But you couldn’t help but want to continue with your little jailbreak.

“Look, I don’t get it. But I do. And I covered for you. But please don’t make me regret it.”

You can hear him sigh, and you can almost picture the disappointment written on his happy face. But he was at least willing to indulge you in this endeavor for a while longer. Both sides of your conversation are silent as you agree to keep this secret from the real Bakugou.

“I’ll have him back before you get back, I promise.” You tell him softly before glancing down at the massive man carrying you. Readjusting his grip on your thighs, digging his fingers into the plush skin beneath his fingers.

He felt all too real just to be a dream. The heat emitting from his body matched that of your hot-headed boss. He wore the same sour face, his hair stuck out the same. His arms and hands felt just as real as the ones you were used to grabbing for when Bakugou would demand to escort you home after those long nights at the office.

Strong and lean but no less warm. On that rare occasion, he was in a decent mood, offering to make a stop by a restaurant on the way and pick up dinner for you. He wasn’t much for conversation, be he had a way of making you comfortable in the silence. Tugging you closer to his side when you would pass others on the sidewalk.

In the end, you owed it not just to yourself, but to your boss as well, to find out what was going on.

“I’ll message you about an hour before we will be back. But if anything happens, don’t forget to hit the panic button on your phone. I’m serious. I would rather you stay safe than hurt sweetpea.”

“He isn’t going to hurt me, but I’ll keep my phone close. Thank you for trusting me, Kiri.”

He doesn’t say anything else other than a small hum of acknowledgment before he hangs up the phone. Leaving you once again to keep your attention on the burly blond that was now leading you off the well-worn path of the hiking trail and into the woods.

It was now or never. You either made some kind of breakthrough with Katsuki, or you were sure to be swept up in the wrath of Bakugou if you didn’t have any results from your little act of rebellion. 

[ 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.

Katsuki x Fem!Reader

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A/N: Thank you anon for the request, I hope it turned out the way you wanted! enjoy <3

Warnings: Angst to fluff, low self esteem, shy!reader, Mineta exists,fight during training (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: ~ 2500

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Bakugou Katsuki - Look at Me

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He could feel it, the way his heart flutters, watching you heaving as you had your foot on Denki’s back with a tight hold on his arm. You’d completely immobilized him, rendering you the winner. It was your first combat training together, everyone was excited and energetic. You, however, were more nervous than anything. So when you had won in such a short amount of time, it surprised everyone. You felt your cheeks almost sizzle as heat rises in them, with everyone’s eyes on you, you thought you’d shrink to the size of an ant. You scurry off of Denki who looks at you with a wide smile, a little bit of dirt on his cheek.

“Wow Y/N! You took me by surprise there, you were amazing!” He sits up, the rest of the class coming to shower you with praise as well.

“Oh- well…I-“ You wave your hands in dismissal at the constant glory given to you, you felt like you’d pass out if you heard any more. As you’re backing away from your persisten classmates, not paying attention to what’s behind you, you felt yourself collide with something. Slowly turning to see, you’re met with Bakugou’s chest. Your whole body tenses and your head lifts to meet with his prideful gaze.

“Fight me.” He says with a self-assured smirk and dark, looming eyes. You jump and squeak, running behind Mr. Aizawa for protection. You felt like your heart was stuck in your throat as you hold onto your teacher for dear life. You knew how strong Bakugou was but the reason for your running wasn’t his menacing stare, but the way your brain kept repeating the same phase as you stood against his sturdy chest.

‘So cute!!’

The feeling of being so close to him, it was simply overwhelming! Your body had to get away before you melted before him.

“Bakugou! You’re scaring her!” Mina shouts angrily at the blonde boy, swinging her fist up and down in frustration at his aggressiveness.

“SHUT UP EXTRA!” He retaliates, stepping closer to his teacher which you’re hiding behind.

“Your training buddies have already been decided, Bakugou. Now let’s move on with the training!”

“Yes, sir!” The class shouts in unison at Aizawa’s demand. Dispersing to their places with their sparing buddies, Katsuki turns around with a “tch”. He couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid feeling in his chest, the one he felt watching you fight with your all. It was almost like when he watched All Might fight when he was younger, he’d feel such a pump of adrenaline from how awesome All Might was, but this was somehow different. He didn’t like it.

After your first interaction, the two of you generally kept a distance but you’d often find your eyes meeting, like both of you were always watching each other. You’d completely deny any time Mina or Jirou pointed out your constant stare, saying you just admired his power. They’d always give you a teasing look and giggle at your tinted face.

You had always been shy, ever since you were a kid. People have tried to help you overcome it but every time you were in front of unblinking eyes, words seemed to escape you. You would always strive to be better, but any progress was scarce and only noticed by yourself. Because of your shy personality, people felt the need to protect you, do things for you and make sure you’re okay. They always treated you like you inferior or weak, you even started to be believe that you were.

When you told people of your dream of being a hero they’d often discourage you, saying that heroes need to be brave and fearless, even your own parents tried convincing you to find another career path. It became another reason for you to fight for your dream even more, you want to prove to people, to yourself, that you don’t need protection. That you too, can save others.

So you trained, and trained and polished your quirks abilities, compensating your weaknesses. You did everything to be strong, but you still felt your brain go blank whenever someone spoke to you. All your training, meant nothing to those around you, they still thought you were weak. But when you got into UA, you felt hope fill your heart once more, they had recognized your strength, and you’d continue to show them that you were worth more than anyone bargained for.

When you first saw Bakugou, it was at the entrance exam. He had this fire in his eyes, his body never staggered, his voice never shook and his gaze never wavered. Your eyes met for a split second as he jumped over your head and exploded the robot villain you were going for. You felt your heart beat echoing through you, simply watching his unshakable movements made bravery surge through your body and for that split second his eyes met yours, you felt fearless.

To say you were relieved to see him in the classroom on the first day of school, is an understatement. While everyone coward in fear of him, you looked up to his careless attitude, he didn’t care about what others thought and you wish you were the same. The only reason for keeping your distance was to keep your heart from beating a hole in your chest and jumping out. You quickly understood you had feelings from him, but who are you to love him? You’re nowhere near as strong or brave, not to mention the other gorgeous people in class, they were all incredible but you…you were just you. To please yourself while not disturbing him, you watched him from afar and admired him from the sidelines, that was enough. You convinced yourself of that.

All the wonderful people in your class were so kind and understanding, so you made friends pretty quickly. You hung out with everyone, expect for Todoroki and Bakugou, though you would often speak with Midoriya. He’s also a bit shy, so the two of you had that in common and understood one another in that aspect. Bakugou noticed that. He noticed how the two of you grew close but he couldn’t care less.

It was at the sports festival, where you gave your all and showed the world that you were capable of being a hero, it was then he truly noticed you. After your first training session, he knew you were pretty powerful but the strength and diligence you presented during your 1-on-1 battle, it blew him away. His eyes widened as he watched you, grabbing his shirt and clutching the fabric tightly he tsked at the familiar feeling arising in his chest, it was there again. The dumb flutter of his heart, how annoying.

“Bakugou, is there anyone you like?” Denki asked teasingly. The boys of class 1a had gotten together for the sake of studying but it ended up becoming more of a chatter fest than anything.

“Tch, don’t be so stupid, dunce face.” He turned his head to look out the window of the common room of the dorms, your face creeping into the back of his mind.

“I’ve noticed you tend to watch Y/N quite a lot.” Kirishima adds, making some of the boys let out a long “ooooh”.

“She’s super pretty~!” Denki says in a dreamy way, thinking back on when you’d overpowered him during training.

“Yeah and she-“ before Mineta could utter another word, his face was engulfed by Bakugou’s hand, a small explosion going off and knocking the manlet to the ground.

“YOU DO LIKE HER!” Sero and Denki shout in unison making Bakugou’s face heat up with an unfamiliar stir in his stomach.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” He jumps at the two boys who only laugh harder. The only thing that spared their lives was Iida pulling Bakugou off of them.

After they’d all gone to bed, Katsuki couldn’t help but think about it. Had he gone and fallen for you? He covers his eyes with his forearm, sighing heavily at the fluttering in his chest. Whenever he’d lock eyes with you, you’d jump and turn away. Whenever he was close to you, you would practically run the opposite direction. Was he that scary? Did you hate him? His mind kept him up for hours, mercilessly berating him.

The next day he had dark circles under his eyes, not having gotten enough sleep because of you. He felt so sluggish and could barely focus, but when he heard he’d been paired up with you to spar, he suddenly felt a pulse of energy wash over him. Though he couldn’t tell if it was out of confidence or nervousness. Turning to get a glimpse of you, he found you already staring at him and like always, you quickly look away with a panicked look. Why?

You could look at Deku just fine, you always spoke to him, always laughing with that nerd so why not him? He felt his heart squeeze in a way that was rare for him, a painful ache that spread throughout his body.

You gulp, standing a few feet away from Katsuki whose palm already flare up with tiny explosions. Your brain focusing on how cool you think he is, but your eyes only manage to stare at his feet, not having the nerve to look him in his breathtaking eyes.

“Start!” Aizawa shouts. Bakugou wastes no time and runs right at you, jumping in the air as he winds his arm back and launching it forward with a powerful explosion erupting from his hand. You quickly dodge and counterattack with an elbow to his back, his eyes widen as he watches your movements. You had yet to look at him. Before you could activate your own quirk, he’s already charging at you again and your barely able to react but you manage to dodge him by jumping in the air and launching yourself off his back to get some distance.

“Damn it!” He shouts, hunched forwards as he stares at his hands, you watch him in shock as he trembles.

“Why won’t you look at me?!” Your shock having distracted you he’s able to land a blow, sending you flying back. Aizawa declares his victory but your mind only replays what he’d said. You struggle a bit as you stumble to your feet, Midoriya running to your side to make sure you’re okay. You give him a weak smile as he helps you get to recovery girl. The sight makes Katuki clench his fists and furrow his already tense eyebrows.

“Whatever…” He mumbles as he sits on the ground, thoughtlessly watching the rest of the class battle.

“They’re both oblivious!” Mina shouts in frustration, sitting on Kirishima’s bed as he’d gathered her, Denki, Jirou and Sero to talk about you and Bakugou. Sero gives a long sigh and closes his eyes while leaning on a wall.

“It’s true, they’re impossible to convince.” He agreed with Mina.

“Then we’ll just have to make them talk it out!” Everyone turns to look at Denki who seemed to have a plan in mind. Bakugou sighs as he makes his way to the front of Heights Alliance, looking at the text Eijiro had sent him.

‘Hey, meet me outside, I need to tell you something.’

He lets out an annoyed “tsk” as he puts his phone back in his pocket, mumbling to himself about how ‘this better be important’

But when he makes it outside, he doesn’t see Kirishima anywhere. Instead he sees the silhouette of your back under the dimly lit night sky. You’re looking up at the stars, like an idiot. Looking to the stars like they’re the most wondrous things to ever exists. You were always like that, seeing such rich beauty in small every day things, you always had something to smile about. But you never smiled at him. Bakugou’s pulled from his thoughts as he hears the entrance door lock, he shouts out an angry “OI!” As he runs to the door, banging on it, yelling at them to open it. The commotion startled you, making you turn around to see Katsuki recklessly banging and pulling on the door. You’d been tricked, hadn’t you? You knew it was odd for Mina to text you instead of barging into your room like she usually would. A panicked expression twits your features as a blush creeps onto your face, you’re alone with him now.

“B-Bakugou…” You say in a small voice, almost a whisper as you walk closer to him.

“WHAT?!” He screams at you, but your blush only grows as he looks at you.

“If you..shout like that, Mr. A-Aizawa will wake up…” Your gaze once more glued to the ground as you shyly stutter your statement.

“I-I think they’ll open up if we talk…”

“About what?!” You shrug your shoulders slightly. You knew what, but your words were stuck in your throat and you couldn’t cough them up. Not with the way he intently watches you, his eyes practically burning holes into you. The words he’d yelled during training returned to you, he’d completely misunderstood your attitude and you knew you had to do something about it.

“I’m sorry!” You say suddenly, nails digging into your palms as your hands formed tights fists. Your eyes stay lowered and your lips quivered, the beating of your heart ringing in your ears. Katsuki’s expression softens slightly, looking at you as you struggle to speak your mind, he lets go of the doors handle.

“I…I think you’re really cool…” You gulp, looking to the side as you lift your head a bit.

“And my heart…it gets excited when you’re close.” Your hand creeps to your chest, feeling your heart beating the way it does when you’re around him. Though it aches in the moment, knowing what is to come.

“I run…because I know, I’m not worthy of your attention-“ A lump in your throat begins to form, making it harder to breathe. “B-but…I like you!” You quiver as you fight the tears threatening to fall, your head hanging low again, not having the courage to look at him. Knowing how your heart will beg for his. As you sniffle, you feel a hand grabbing the sides of your face, making you look up. Within a second, your lips are met with his, in a rough and inexperienced kiss. You feel the tears forcing through and falling freely down your burning cheeks.

“You should look at me if you’re gonna confess like that, idiot.” He lets go of your face and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away as the blush on your cheeks had spread to his. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes and his heart does that stupid thing again, because you were finally smiling at him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I think this turned out really cute and I hope you think so too, thank you for reading! Requests are still open <3

dancing in the rain

pov : you and kirishima make a silly decision of dancing in the rain and you make force bakugou dance too

A cool breeze fans against the heat of your skin, warm from the intense exchange of dancing and conversation from the ballroom floor inside.

The heavy patter of rain is accompanied by a bout of cheerful laughter and a series of playful splashes of water trailing away from the door.

“Come on y/n! Come join me!” Eyes full of light and his teeth pulled together into a shiny grin, Kirishima calls out to you from the middle of the venue parking lot, completely drenched from his brilliant red hair to his shiny, black shoes.

Under the protection of the entryway awning, Bakugo folds his arms in judgement. “Tch, shitty hair, this is a stupid idea! Get back here!” You cautiously inspect the long hem of your dress and your sparky, heeled shoes. Even under a shelter from the rain, a puddle forms around your toes, growing steadily from the downpour.

“You’re not thinking of joining that idiot, are you?” Bakugo asks, turning to you. You find yourself smiling as Kirishima does a celebratory spin, arms spread wide to the will of the sky above him. Bakugo’s distaste slips your mind, as you hurriedly slip off your shoes and bolt from the dry entryway.

“Sorry Bakugo!” You call out behind you, the first trickles of rain splashing against your skin. “Dumbass! Not you too!” He spits in frustration. Fabric gathered in your hands, concrete rough against your bare toes, Kirishima’s bright smile drives you forward. The scent of earth and air fills your lungs, fueling your burst of adrenaline. Your eyes meet and he pauses, opening his arms to catch you.

You collide into his rain-soaked suit jacket with an elated gasp, his presence crushing you affectionately as he pulls you into the safety of his arms. “You’re crazy Kiri.” You breathe into his shoulder. “Does that make you crazy for joining me?” He teases, earning him a playful smirk and a gentle punch to his chest.

“You idiots. Making me come out here in the damned rain!” You both turn in pleasant surprise to your explosive friend, a pinch in his brow and his hands stuffed stubbornly into his pockets. His heavy footsteps disrupt the puddles across the tarmac as he storms over to you.

“Hey man! You changed your mind?” Tucked comfortably into his side, you could feel the joy radiate from Kirishima’s chest. Bakugo grumbles dismissively. “sOmEoNE needs to watch you two… And it’s not like the rain’s gonna kill me, it’s just not fuckin necessary you morons!” A spurt of laughter escapes you at the sight of Bakugo’s notable annoyance yet, very attentive gesture to join you.

“C’mere bro.” Kiri wraps a welcoming arm around him, pulling you all together. You breathe in the comfort of their closeness. “We were all so busy in there, I didn’t get a chance to dance with you guys.” Kiri looks up at you both sheepishly. “Uh, I was wondering, if it’s not too late, could we dance now?” Bakugo sighs, pulling away a little and motioning to downpour around you. “You really wanna dance in the rain shitty hair? Not inside?”

“C’mon Bakugo, it’ll be fun, just the three of us.” You smile, your eyes catching a section of his hair folded across his forehead. You tenderly brush it away from his face, raking it over his hairline, soaking wet from the rain. “We just want to spend some time with you tonight.” Your touch and your comment make him flinch a little from embarrassment. His cheeks begin to flush a gentle pink, flustered from the openly intimate affection.

His expression furrows thoughtfully as Kirishima reaches for his hand. “C’mere man, it’s our prom night, can your prom dates get one dance with you?” He asks with a warm smile. Tilting his head to the sky, letting the unease trickle off the sides of jaw, Bakugo reciprocates the gesture, pulling Kirishima away from the curb.

As he storms off through the rain once again, his head turns over his shoulder and his eyes home in on your giddy expression. “Don’t get too ansty y/n, wait your turn.” Kirishima turns to you despite being dragged behind in Bakugo’s wake. “You’re up next y/n! Can’t leave here tonight without dancing with you.” “Ugh, fine, but I get her after! Best for last!” Bakugo barks in dispute. Kirishima runs a hand through his drenched bangs in compliance. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say- wait, best for last? What, are YOU the best or is she?” Bakugo pauses, before shoving Kirishima awa“I’m not gonna answer that! Just shut up and dance with me shitty hair!” Sitting on the curb nearby, you giggle at their friendly squabble, feeling a swell in your heart as you watch your dates dance together under the cool, calming trickle of the rain

if isn’t too much to ask I loved loved jinx request and I l wanted to ask if u can do part 2

Maybe takes place where it left off and Bakugou still in shock and feels guilty about what happens to reader he tries to find to fix his ways but things don’t end up well he does find reader

But reader wants vengeance revenge but deep down she still broken girl she was before bakugou sees that tries to help her

But reader doesn’t want help she just jinx who ruins everything around her and league help her through they saw her as someone who is more then a jinx she perfect

But when Bakugou tries to reason not give up she get conflicted and has breakdown

Like that once scene I acrane maybe reader like This is a trick your playing me Shut up I’m in no mood (talking to herself) something along the lines like that

The ending can be up to you I let you decide but this prompted idea I had for part 2 I hope this makes sense :)

DOUBLE JINX!!

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bakugou tries to find his old victim but she finds him instead. Oh? Will Bakugou try to reason with her as the League of Villains try to recruit him? Will she accept?

★☽A/N: I wouldn’t mind doing another part! Though this part may be a bit longer… But I hope you guys will like it!!

★☽A/N 2 weeks later: Haha! Nevermind!! It’s definitely gonna be super long, I’m having too much fun on this. ENJOY!!

Contents: Angst - mentions of breakdowns - bullying - harsh words - A VERY LONG FANFIC

Y/N’s quirk: Arcanna (Allows the user to create crystal-like balls that can be used to boost the user’s stats, power up weapons (Like guns), and can be used as explosives when crushed.)

· • —– ٠ ✡ ٠ —– • ·

It was a week after the U.S.J accident. Kirishima decided to report the fact that the villain that attacked the redhead himself and his friend knew the blonde. Katsuki Bakugou was then interrogated to know what he knows about the villain. He explained how she was an old classmate and her name is Y/N L/N, but must’ve changed it into Jinx, leaving out the reason she’s targeting him. It was a full day, getting asked questions but he finally finished and was able to go back home.

With Jinx, she was planning the perfect revenge that involves her beloved babies! She plans to torture the blonde with all her gadgets and even torture him mentally, how she knew about his terrible personality, how he harassed students, and even about the snarky comment to poor Izuku Midoriya. Oh sweet, sweet revenge.

Back in U.A, Bakugou tries to convince the teachers to at least reason with the H/C girl, saying that she's just been misguided (shocking to be coming from him). Midoriya, as an old classmate of hers, also asks to try to reason with the villain, stating the same reason as Bakugou's. But U.A didn't really believe them since she was part of the League Of Villains group.

As the weeks went by, the problem was forgotten as they prepared for the Quirk Training Camp for class 1A and 1B. Little did they know, LOV decided to join in the fun. And with a few new members, they were ready to invade.

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

On top of a mountain, away from the naked eye, stood the LOV.

“Mmm!! I mean, I don’t like this. It’s not cute.” A blonde girl complained, adjusting the mask to fit her face. “This was made by the designer behind the scenes, right? Appearances don't matter, as long as it’s useful.” A guy in a middle school uniform and a green firefighter hat and a smoke mask said. “I’m not talking about that! I just don’t wanna wear it!” She whined. “Hi!! Sorry for the wait.” Another villain appeared from the shadows with shoulder length brown hair. “Work…work…” A villain, covered in black leather with only his mouth visible but was forced open with metal rods, repeatedly said. A lizard looking dude also appeared, along with some others, including a certain H/C. “That makes eight.” A raspy voice counted.

“I don’t care, just let me at ‘em. I’m getting too pumped up.” One of them demanded, A burnt looking man turned his head to look behind him, “Shut up, you crazy bastards.” He said with an annoyed tone. “Not yet.” He reminded them, “We’ll move when all eleven of us are here.” He smiled widely with his eyes widened, looking down at the rest of the forest. “Gathering a bunch of punks who are just strong will only increase the risk. It’s better to have a small group of experienced elites.” He said. 

“First, we make them realize.. That their peace is resting in our hands.”

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

Class 1A and 1B were having the time of their life! Training hard to improve their Quirks to become the ideal hero they hoped for themselves, while the extra lessons students weren’t having that much fun as their energy was drained from their bodies. The hero agency they were staying with, The Wild, Wild Pussycats, planned an activity for both classes to participate, except for the ones who failed the practical exam. A class would have to scare the most students of the other class who would be walking through a path around the forest property of the agency. It was called "The Test Of Courage." Class 1A would be the scarees and 1B would be the scarers first. Class 1A pulled out a piece of paper to determine their partner for the test. Each pair would have to find cards with their names on it in the middle of the route in order to win, they had 3 minutes to do so before switching with another pair of students.

After grouping the students, they finally started off the challenge. Time went by as the screams of students roared the forests until group number 5 was next. “Ribbit-kitty, Uraraka-kitty, go!!!” A pussycat member yelled.

The two girls, Uraraka and Tsuyu, walked along the dense forest’s path in great fear. “I’m scared, Tsu… There are so many screams…” She whispered softly to the green haired girl. “Kyoka and Toru, huh? Let’s hold hands.” Tsuyu said, “It’s fine, I’m not scared.” She assured, extending her hand out for Uraraka to hold. “Let’s go.” She encouraged the brunette as they walked deeper into the forest. 

Three students of 1B were laughing away at their amazing scares to class 1A. One of the students smelled something odd. “Hey, doesn’t it smell like something is burning?” She pointed out. “Huh? Now that you mentioned it, it suddenly got smoky…” One of them realized. A sudden smoky purple mist quickly spread around their area. “Did Bakugou and Todoroki get so scared, they fired off their quirks?” He jokingly said but suddenly he stopped in his words when he suddenly felt sleepy and passed out, causing both his classmates to worry. “Honenuki?!” An orange haired girl called out and was sent in shock when he felt hard on the ground.

“Yui! Don’t breathe it in!” She called out, using her Quirk, Big Fist, to cover her friend. She covered her nose as well, she looked around as she took in everything around her. ‘This smoke.. It’s poisonous!’ 

Back in camp with the rest of the students, one of the Pussycats smelled the air, taking in the burnt smell. ‘What is this smell?’ She wondered. “That’s…” A student pointed out, the two pro heroes looked out to see black smoke. Students started to worry about the smoke that was emanating from somewhere. Suddenly a huge explosion came out of nowhere! Creating more smoke around the forest.

Deep inside the forest, the cause of the burning smell and black smoke was a burnt looking man with dark purple scars, using his quirk to fire a tree to create smoke to fear the students and heroes. The cause of the explosion was a H/C girl, creating crystals out of nothing from her hands and smashing them to the ground to create them.

“Now… It begins..”

Suddenly one of the pro heroes got grabbed and was pulled away from the students. “Pixie-bob!” One of the students called out.

Uraraka and Tsuyu, unaware of the rising problem, walked deeper and deeper into the woods, unknowing a certain blonde ready to attack them.

Pixie-bob was on the ground, a metal that was covered with cloth was pressed against the side of her forehead, causing it to bruise and bleed. “These pet cats are in the way.” The villain spoke. Mineta slowly stepped back in fear, “Wh-Why?” He cowardly asked. “I thought they made double sure…” He muttered. “Why are villains here?!” He yelled in fear.

“Pixie-bob!” Midoriya called out, running towards her but was stopped by the two other Pussycats. “Oh no..” One of them muttered. Midoriya realized that her nephew, Kota, wasn’t with her.

‘Kota!!”

“We, the Vanguard Action Squad of the League of Villains, will take care of them.”

⭒☆━━━━━━━☆⭒

“Isn’t it fun, Dabi?” A villain asked, smiling widely as she threw her explosive crystals to the ground. “Shut up, you crazy child…” He groaned. “Child? I’m 16!!” She whined, “But you act like a child..” He replied back. “Hmph! Rude burnt nugget.” She insulted, turning back and starting to walk away. “I’m gonna go with Mr. Compress, I heard we have to collect someone.” She inform but Dabi couldn’t care less. “I don’t give a fuck, just go you lunatic.” He spat and she laughed it off, “My bully in middle school did worse! You can’t hurt me!!” She yelled out as she walked further away from her old position.

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

“How are you on this fine evening, U.A High School?” The lizard looking villain asked, “We are the Vanguard Action Squad of the League of Villains!” He introduced proudly with his arms out. “The League of Villains?!” Ojiro repeated, “Why are they here?” He muttered. “Shall I crush this lady’s head? What d’you think?” The villain asked, pressing harder on her head. “Well, what do you think?” She asked again. “Like I’d let you, you!-” Tiger was enraged from seeing his comrade being pressed against the ground by the huge block of metal. “Wait, Big Sis Mag! Don’t be hasty! You too, Tiger.” The Lizard said, cutting off Tiger’s words. “It all depends on whether having power over life and death follows Stain’s tenets or not.” He said. “Stain..!” Midoriya muttered, remembering the Hero Killer, Stain.

“So you’re the ones his ideology brought?” Iida asked, already having his fighting stance. “That’s right!” The villain confirmed, joyfully admitting with his arms out. “I’m– Oh yea, you, with the glasses!” He was just about to introduce himself when he recognized Iida’s appearance. “You were the one who put an end to Stain at Hosu City.” The lizard realized. “I apologize for my late introduction.” He apologized with a grin, taking out a covered weapon to reveal a leather stick with hundreds of sharpened swords and knives attached to it by some leather belts. “I’m Spinner, the one who will bring his dreams into reality!” He introduced. 

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

Back in the forest, there were students from 1B and pairs of 1A trying to get out of the forest and follow Mandalay’s orders to get back to camp. Kendo, a student from 1B, ran as fast as she could with her two friends in her fists. She suddenly stopped when she heard noises from the bushes and her name being called out. It was her classmate, Tetsutestu with Ibara in his arms. “Tetsutetsu, Ibara! What’s with the masks?” Kendo asked, “Yaoyorozu from class 1A made them! Awase’s showing her the locations of the other 1B students so they can go rescue them!” He explained. “Hurry, grab one! I got a bunch on me.” He said, turning to his side so Kendo could grab them. She put her two friends out of her fist and grabbed masks for herself and the others. “Thanks!” She thanked him, already putting on the mask on her face.

“We need to get back to camp. It’s dangerous out here since we don’t know where the villains are.” She said, “No, I’m going to fight too.” Tetsu declined. “Protect Shiozaki and Kodai.” He ordered Kendo. “Huh?! But Mandalay said not to fight!” She argued. “You’re always rebuking Monoma but didn’t you feel it in your heart somewhere? The difference between our class and 1A’s?” Testu asked. “I’ve been feeling it! We got into U.A with the same exam, studying the same curriculum. What’s the difference? It’s obvious! What they had that we didn’t… A crisis! They turned their crises into chances! It’s only natural! How can a hero turn their back on wrongdoers?” Testu wholeheartedly said, “Testutestu!” The orange haired girl said to stop him from going. “Don’t try to stop me, Kendo.” Testu ordered, “If we don’t stand now, then when will we?” He said, “I’ll definitely find the villains and beat the living daylights out of them!!” Testu said in determination.

“Woah!! That’s a really good speech!”

A sudden voice spoke from the depths of the forest, catching the three conscious students off guard. ‘A villain!’ Kendo noticed, looking around frantically for the villain. “I just love the determination heroes have! I used to have that..” The voice spoke again, “Show your face! Stop being a coward!” Testu yelled out. “Man.. You’re no fun!” The voice groaned. The ravenhead of the group suddenly saw a figure in the branches. From H/C H/L hair, to the clothes, and the expression. “Oh?” Someone spoke, dashing out of their hiding spot, they pounced onto the ravenhead. “You’re super cute!! D’you have a partner? The villain smiled.

Kendo quickly used her quirk to push the villain off, making them bash into a tree. “Tch! You’re no fun!!” The villain angrily yelled, brushing off the chipped wood off their body. Revealing their figure from the shadows, “You haven’t even let me introduce myself! But I’ll forgive you for that.” They smiled. Kendo and Testu kept on a fighting stance as they prepared for the worst. “My name’s Jinx! It’s a pleasure to meet class 1B! I honestly like you guys better, very underrated.” She said with a smile. “How did you know that?” Kendo asked cautiously. “The sports festival! Testutestu, you have a very similar quirk to Kirishima, perhaps you both are related?” She asked, slowly walking towards the students. “What? Actually- Are we?” Testu muttered, his guard down as he tried to think of an answer.

“You guys are really boring… Hmm.. Bye!!” She said before creating a crystal out of nowhere and smashed it into the ground, creating an explosion that took her off the ground and away from them.

“Wait!!” Kendo called out but it was too late, the H/C villain was already gone.

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

Everywhere in the forest was pure chaos. Midoriya was going to fight Muscular, a villain who killed Kota’s parents, to protect Kota himself and back in camp were students who had extra lessons and the pro heroes who were busy with their own company.

But all of that chaos was unknown from Bakugou and Todoroki’s perspective. 

“DAMN IT!!” Bakugou angrily said, stomping along with Todoroki with his hand covering his face to prevent smelling the gas that was emanating from the forest. “Is this gas a villain’s quirk?” Todoroki wondered with a soft voice, carrying a student from 1B on his back. “I’m worried about the others, but we don’t have a choice.” He said, looking at Bakugou. “We’ll avoid the finish line and get back to camp.” He instructed, looking back straight ahead.

Amidst the forest was Mr. Compress, waiting for the signal. He suddenly heard rustling and quickly turned around to only be spooked by Jinx. “BOO!!” She shouted, giving him a scare. “My goodness! You gave me a fright, Jinx!” He expressed. “Hehe, sorry!” She apologized. “Anyways~ Watchu doin’?” She asked with a curious tone. “I’m waiting.” He replied, “Waiting for what?” She asked again. “The signal.” He responded. “What signal?” She asked again.

“The signal to capture our new recruit.” He responded which Jinx nodded, confirming that she now understood. “Who are we recruiting? Is it one of the students? Oo! Someone my age for once!!” She clapped her hands together in excitement. Mr. Compress chuckled in amusement, “Yes, it’s one of the students. Shigaraki said he will be very viable for us.” He confirmed.

“YIPEE!!” She yelled loudly, jumping up and down the single branch she was sitting on. She jumped a bit too hard and caused the branch to snap and she fell down hard onto the ground. “Ouch! I’m okay!!” She assured loudly and gave a thumbs up with a smile. Mr. Compress just gave her a thumbs up back but she didn’t know that he was smiling in amusement. ‘Such a lovely kid, such a shame society failed her.’ He thought before looking around for that recruit.

[Extra]

A few weeks ago, Mr. Compress has just been recruited. He walked up to Jinx, “Would you like to be my assistant? You have a quite similar Quirk to mine.” He asked her, “Really?! Absolutely!!!” Jinx excitedly agreed, hugging Mr. Compress and lifting him up with her strength out of joy. “Thank you!! Thank you!!” She thanked him with such joy. 

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

[SKIP AGAIN]

Deku quickly jumped off the cliff where he left Muscular, a villain he defeated, buried into a dent of the cave he punched him into with Kota on his back. He thought back to what Muscular asked.

“Where’s the kid called Bakugou?”

Deku had a bad feeling about it, he was worried about the state of Bakugou now that he had a feeling the villains wanted to capture him.

He quickly dashes through the forest. ‘Almost there!!’ He estimated. “Hey, look!!” Kota pointed out loudly. Deku looked at where Kota was looking at and it was Eraserhead! “Mr. Aizawa!” Midoriya called out to his teacher who stopped to look, “Midori-” He stopped his sentence and realized that Midoriya was shirtless with two broken arms and with Kota on his back. “It’s terrible right now! There are a lot of things I need to tell you!” Midoriya spoke in his frantic state.

Midoriya kept on rambling about how he had to tell Mandalay and how he had to bring Kota back but he was cut off by the calls by his teacher. “I said hey!” Aizawa said, finally catching Midoriya’s attention. “Please take care of Kota!” Midoriya pleaded to him. Midoriya started to ramble a bit again but all Aizawa could think of was that Midoriya was in no state to keep on running and helping the situation de-escalate.

“Please!” He pleaded again and ended up dashing into the forest again before Aizawa got the chance to talk. “Wait- Midoriya!” He called out, Deku stopped to hear his words. “Those injuries… You did it again, didn’t you?” “Did you forget what happened in Hosu?” Aizawa reminded him. “For uncertified individuals to cause injury with their Quirks without specific instruction from their guardians or supervisors is a clear violation of the rules.” Those words from the hound dog back in Hosu repeated in Midoriya’s mind.

“No, but..” He was about to protest but had no reason to, “So tell Mandalay this..” Aizawa said before telling Deku about everything that he wanted to share with the rest of the students.

In the camp, everyone was fighting hard. Just as Mandalay was gonna get hit, two feet landed hard on Spinner’s weapon. “Mandalay! Kota’s fine!” Midoriya said, assuring the pro hero was shocked by his arrival, “You..!” She remembered. Midoriya fell with a slide onto the ground, “And here’s a message to Mr. Aizawa! Tell everyone with Telepath!” He pleaded.

“Everyone in 1A and 1B! In the name of the pro hero, Eraserhead, you are granted permission to engage in combat!” Midoriya said loudly for her to hear. She quickly nodded and repeated those exact words to every single student that was in the forest. 

After she finished, she ordered Midoriya to get back to camp immediately because of his abnormal injuries. Midoriya denied and asked to send one more message.

“The villains. At least one of their targets is… They’re after Kacchan!”

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

[I’m going to spare the wait and just give the main event!!]

Todoroki and Bakugou just saved Tokoyami by using their Quirks to calm Dark Shadow who was destroying everything in its path.

“Tokoyami, are you alright?” Shoji walked up to Tokoyami with Midoriya on his back. “You did a good job doing what we asked.” He praised Tokoyami. “Sorry Shoji…” He apologized, feeling truly guilty for his actions. “You too, Midoriya.. I was too immature. I let my anger take over and released Dark Shadow… The influence of the darkness and my anger spurred on that guy…” He added, looking down at his shaking hands. “In the end, it got so strong that I couldn’t hold it back and ended up hurting Shoji.” He blamed himself. “We can leave that for later. That’s what you would say, right?” Shoji said, shocking Tokoyami from his statement. He looked up to see Shoji looking at him with such kind eyes with Midoriya who was behind him, smiling an assuring smile. 

“Oh right! We confirmed that one of the villain’s targets is Kacchan.” Midoriya said, quickly getting back into serious matters. “Bakugou? Are they trying to kill him? Why?” Shoji asked. “I don’t know. Anyways, I think the camp is the safest place since there are two pros, Vlad King and Mr. Aizawa, there.” Midoriya said.  Bakugou was looking at the 3 talking in a pure confused state. “I see, so now our mission is to escort Bakugou there, correct?” Tokoyami asked in confirmation.

Midoriya continued to explain the situation back in the campsite, how the Pussycats were still fighting and that going through that path would bring attention from the villains and they would lose time. He then suggested a shortcut, cutting straight across the forest. “We don’t know how many villains there are. We might come across one suddenly” Shoji presented a con. “We could use Shoji’s search ability. And we have Todoroki’s freezing, and if Tokoyami is okay with it, an invincible Dark Shadow with built-in controls..” Midoriya suggested.

After that, they began walking through the forest according to plan with Bakugou complaining about the arrangement. Along the way, they were met with Uraraka and Tsuyu who were up against a villain named Toga Himiko, a name they learned later on. 

Tsuyu then pointed out with a question after Midoriya explained that they were escorting Bakugou back to camp because of his big target on his back, “You’re protecting Bakugou? Where is Bakugou?” Midoriya was surprised at first, “What are you saying? Kacchan is right behind–” He looked behind to see Bakugou missing! Where has he gone? 

“Katsuki Bakugou?” An unknown voice sounded out of nowhere, making Midoriya look up to the source. “I took him with my magic.” The man with an orange coat was standing atop of a branch of a tree. Tossing the marble with Bakugou inside, he said, “This talent isn’t someone who should be on the hero's side.” “We’ll take him on a stage where he can shine more.” He explained. “So! You’re telling me he’s the recruit?” Another voice, a female one, sounded from another branch. “Yes, Jinx. I apologize if this inconveniences you.” He apologized.

‘Y/N!!’ Midoriya looked up to see Jinx on another branch. “Midoriya?! You have a Quirk? That’s certainly an amazing miracle! I really envy you for having such a powerful Quirk!” She said, sitting down on the branch. Midoriya looked back to Mr. Compress with an angered look on his face, “Give him back!” He demanded.

“Give him back? That’s a strange thing to say. Bakugou doesn’t belong to anyone. He’s his own person, you egoist.” He said back. “And also, why would you want him back? He has been nothing but awful to you.” Jinx jumped in. “Awful?” Todoroki naively asked, “Yes! Awful! He bullied sweet little Izuku because he didn’t have a quirk. Even though Izu has one now, he didn’t have one back in Middle school and Kacchan treated him horrible. And that snarky comment!” Jinx explained. “Do you know it? Katsuki Bakugou said, “Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!” To Midoriya, baiting him with suicide! He told Midoriya to go kill himself! An aspiring hero said that, to a Quirkless boy, no doubt!” She finally said it, she exposed him to that terrible statement he said to Midoriya.

“Give him back!!” Midoriya yelled once more, Todoroki quickly asking Shoji to move before releasing a spike of ice towards Mr. Compress and then at Jinx. They both jumped away from the students, catching them off guard. “The path he’s on now with its fanatical values is not the only path he can take. Kids these days are made to choose their paths based on their values.” Mr. Compress said, holding onto his hat to prevent it from falling before landing down softly on a tree with Jinx by his side.

Shoji looked behind him and realized that Tokoyami wasn’t with them and told Midoriya who also just realized. “To go out of your way to talk to us… You’re underestimating us.” Todoroki said, glaring at the villain. “I was originally an entertainer, you know? It’s a bad habit of mine.” The villain said, twirling a marble on his fingers. “Taking Tokoyami was simply an improvisation on my part.” He explained, revealing a second marble.

“You bastard!! Don’t take them!!!” Midoriya yelled with anger. “Calm down, Midoriya!” Shoji said, trying to calm his friend down. Todoroki was enraged, quickly asking Uraraka to hold the 1B student he had on his back and quickly stepped hard on the ground and released an entire mountain sized ice attack towards Mr. Compress and Jinx.

“Sorry! Tricks and running away are my only redeeming features!! There’s no way I’d fight students who are heroes in training.” Mr. Compress said loudly from a far which left Todoroki surprised. “Here’s a trick to keep you entertained!!” Jinx said before creating a crystal and threw it hard onto Todoroki’s ice which set off a huge F/C explosive which left the group’s ears ringing which bought them some time to leave.

“Vanguard Action Squad! Target successfully collected! It was just a short while, but with this, our show has come to a close!! As arranged, head to the retrieval point in the next five minutes!!” Mr. Compress reported. “And if you’re late, we’ll leave you behind!~” Jinx sing songy said before hanging up with Mr. Compress.

“Come to a close..?”

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

“Huh? No one else is here yet?” Toga was first to arrive. “You lunatic, did you get the blood? How many people’s worth?” Dabi called out to her. “One person’s worth!” She proudly said. “Just one?!” Twice joined in. “Weren’t you supposed to get at least three??” He complained. “It couldn’t be helped. I thought I was going to be killed.” She sadly responded. “Anyways–”

They continued talking when Dabi noticed something from afar. Mr. Compress was suddenly pushed onto the ground with 3 students of 1A on his back with Jinx beside him, shocked by the attack but couldn’t act on time in the air. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!!” Twice said in a panicked voice. “I know these kids!!” He recognized them. “Who are they?!” His second personality said.

⭒☆━━━━☆⭒

“KACCHAN!!!”

There was a quick fight. The 1A students successfully got Tokoyami back but lost Bakugou in the hands of Dabi who was already in the portal and was out of reach. Everyone was rather distressed about it. Kirishima is trying to get Midoriya to join him to try to save him but Midoriya and his classmates said otherwise. Not because they didn’t want to save him but the amount of restrictions they have as heroes in training and that Eraserhead’s permission was dismissed so they had their hands tied.

When Todoroki and Midoriya had some time alone, he wanted to ask him something. “That thing that Jinx said.. ABout Bakugou telling you to go die… Is that true?” He hesitantly asked Midoriya. Midoriya stayed silent for a while before responding, “Yes, but it’s all in the past and I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Midoriya smiled at Todoroki. “It’s a serious offense, are you sure you’re that okay?” Todoroki asked. “Yes, I’m sure.” Midoriya assured him.

In the little bar base, the League of Villains tries again to pursue Bakugou into joining them.

“I’ll ask you one more time, aspiring hero, Katsuki Bakugou.. Will you join us?” Shigaraki asked once more, every single member staring at the student who was strapped onto a metal chair with many leather straps and a huge cuboid shaped metal trapping his hands to prevent his Quirk from activating and attacking them.

Bakugou just simply smirked and said, “If you’re gonna talk in your sleep, you should go do that and die.” With his snarky tone, glaring at Shigaraki. “Why did you even join these extras? You’re way better than them.” He said, turning his attention to Jinx, “You were second best, you had the second highest scores after me.” Jinx just chuckled darkly and walked out of the shadows and stood beside Shigaraki. “You know.. It’s funny how you still try to keep your ego by saying “You were second best after me” I mean, come on? Are you trying to keep your ego or trying to “change” me?” Jinx said, sounding sarcastic at the word, “Change.”

The TV started playing. It was Mr. Aizawa, Vlad King, and Mr. Nezu, presented on TV for the accident at the training camp. They addressed the press and apologized for their actions. Just as they started the questionnaire, Shigaraki turned off the TV.

“It’s so strange..” Shigaraki started, “Why are the heroes being criticized?” He questioned, sounding “upset” by the heroes’ situation. “The way they were dealing with things was just a little off the mark.” He complained. “Is it because it’s their job to protect? Everyone makes a mistake or two. Are they supposed to be perfect?” He wondered. “Modern-day heroes are so uptight. Don’t you think, Bakugou?” He asked the ashy blonde.

“Once heroes receive compensation to protect people, they aren’t heroes anymore.” Spinner, a wannabe Stain, said. “That is Stain’s teaching.” He explained.

“The strange system of transforming people’s lives into money or glory… The society that sticks tight to those rules… The citizens who blame the losers rather than encourage them.. Our fight is to question: What is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We’ll have everyone thinking about it. We’re planning on winning. You like winning, too, right?” Shigaraki boasted with a grin on his face but was covered by an ashy decay-like hand attached to his crusty, non-moisturized, ugly face.

“Dabi, release his restraints.” Dabi turned to Shigaraki with a confused face. “What? He’s gonna attack, y’know?” Dabi pointed out. “It’s fine! We need to treat him like an equal, since we’re recruiting him.”  Shigaraki assured with his arms out as a form of “rest assurement” towards the entire group. “Equal my ass..” Jinx mumbled.

This conversation went on long enough until All Might saved the day by pretending to be a pizza delivery guy before bashing an entire opening in the abandoned bar. The group was captured and was restrained by wood by Kamui Woods. Shigaraki was distressed and yelled his words in anger towards the heroes. A splash of goo turned into a massive amount of goo spilling out of the LOV’s mouths and suddenly, they vanished within the goo that engulfed them!

The group was saved by All For One. They tried their best to keep Bakugou within their grasp but a small group of 1A students, consisting of Midoriya, Yamomo, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Iida, who came all this way from the hospital to save Bakugou.

Jinx became furious, breathing heavily in anger. She couldn’t let him go so easily! The voices in her head were speaking loudly in her head, messing her up. She grabbed her grappling hook like weapon and blasted towards Bakugou. It latched onto his legs and she pulled him back, making him lost grip on Kirishima’s hand. He was pulled by Jinx who grabbed him hard on the arm and ran with him to somewhere no one knows.

“BAKUGOU!!” Kirishima yelled from the sky as he felt Bakugou lose his grip.

Jinx dragged him to a small abandoned lower level apartment. It was her hideout, her home. She put him on a chair and tied him up, using a similar metal to restrain him from using his quirk. She sighed, “We’re finally alone. Just, the two of us.” She said, walking at an even pace around him. “You seem to have good friends, they cared so much for you!” She complimented. “I wished I had that.” She hopefully said, with her head done with a smile as she looked at the ground. “But, you were the one to have that. How lucky.. You have always been lucky.” She felt envy towards him for having a better life than him.

“Y/N, let me go. We can sort this out with U.A and the pro heroes. It doesn’t have to be this way.” Bakugou tried to pursue her. But that hit a nerve in her body.

“Heroes? What nonsense!”

“How dare he say that!!”

“He’s lying!”

“He’s just like ####!!!!”

Voices became the scream in her head, scribbles all around the place, creating monsters, drawn devil horns and an evil face doodle on Bakugou face. The voices became stronger, washing over Bakugou’s words.

“Y/N, listen to me. You don’t need all of this.”

“Yes you do!”

“He thinks he has the privilege to say that?!”

“He has a better life than you and he says that?”

“I can help you!”

“No one can help you, you’re nothing but a Jinx!”

“JUST SHUT UP!!!!” She yelled loudly, shocking Bakugou by the sudden yell. She breathed heavily, practically having smoke come out of her nostrils like an angry dragon. She turned towards Bakugou.

“You were nothing but mean to me. You used to hit me, kick me, make me almost go deaf by your explosions! What did you call that one move where you exploded so many times in my ears? Oh, right! “Boom boom! Bye bye ears!” Not very creative if you ask me. The orphanage tried so hard to fix me but they couldn’t. The children would laugh and beat me! I wasn’t that affected, because your actions hurted so much worse. You were the reason I was seen as weird, a freak! You destroyed my life, just because I was an orphan. I have seen the most traumatizing thing happening to my caretaker, my sisters, and my friends, do you know what it was? It was a massive explosion. It killed the people I loved right in front of me, do you know how much pain I had? Of course you don’t, you were given everything on a silver plate! Rich parents, good grades, friends, a powerful quirk, being the best at everything. I didn’t have that! You used your privileges to be seen as someone superior than others and with that, you bullied others you deemed lower than you.” Jinx said  in front of Bakugou as his face kept his scowl face but it seemed to have a bit of sadness in them, hm. “Look, the League of Villains shouldn’t change you. You’re Y/N L/N, maybe the dumbest and naivest person but also the most caring. You’re not what they say you are. They made you think you’re a Jinx but you’re not!” Bakugou kept a straight face and said it in the most serious voice he could do.

“Wanna know a secret? All for one thinks he made Jinx. With all of his rants and his hard-one lessons.. “Exile your doubts, Jinx.” , “Be what they fear, Jinx.” But, he didn’t make Jinx…” Jinx said, holding her home-made pistol, she suddenly aimed it at him with her head tilted to the side and looked at him with her eyes, but wait- Weren’t they E/C? Why were they pink? She stared at him with those eyes, those angered yet sad eyes, she glared at his vulnerable position.

“You did.”

BANG!!!!!

· • —– ٠ ✡ ٠ —– • ·

★☽A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long!! If you’re wondering, “Did Bakugou die???” Maybe he did! But it would disturb the flow of events to come after this arc so I’mma say no but you can imagine that he did! I really hope you enjoy this. Thank you again to @supernerdycookietrashblr for requesting this! Might be my favorite request of all time!! <33

So This Is Love

bakugou x fem!reader

masterlist

wc: 363

cw: tooth rotting fluff

Bakugou katsuki loves you so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Katsuki couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. He thought the day couldn’t get any better, already blessed with the rest of the day off; Then the sight of you, the love of his life, dancing and singing without a care in the world as you clean. He leans against the door frame as he watches you frolic around in only your underwear and one of his shirts that swallows you whole.

The sound fades out as he gazes at you lovingly, absolutely adoring your voice as you sing, “But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, and it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm cursing your name, so in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you”

He loves the way your voice matches the singer’s perfectly, and the way you look so childish when you spin around, and when it gets to the chorus you pick up the picture of the two of you and hug it tightly to your chest. He can’t get enough of you. Katsuki Bakugou is absolutely smitten, it’s insane. If any of his friends saw him right now, he’d be made fun of to no end. But he didn’t care, because he’s never been so in love, so infatuated with someone that he doesn’t care who sees.

You still haven’t turned around to face him. Understandably being unable to hear him come in over the music, so he takes matters into his own hands. Katsuki walks up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist, swaying with the music. You let out a small yelp at the intrusion before you realize it’s him. At first, you're filled with excitement but just as you realize what you were doing, embarrassment overtakes you.

“Gosh Kat, you scared me! Um, how long have you been standing there?” You mutter in a quiet voice as the song finishes out. You don’t need to know he was there, that could be just for him, just this once.

“Just walked in.” He says with a small adoring smile on his face. God he was so head over heels for you, so this was love, huh.

Everlong

Song link

Bakugou x fem!reader

masterlist

wc: 300 something

cw: angst, fighting {bakugou is mean :(},cursing, suggestive, innuendos, happy ending, all characters are aged up.

Sometimes you fight, and it might seem like you hate each other. But even through all the hurt, the love you share triumphs the hate.

Katsuki follows you around your shared apartment, angerly stomping behind you, flailing his arms around as you fight.

The two of you had just gotten back from a trip to the grocery store about half an hour ago, when he decided to have a hissy fit about some guy.

“How can you be so fucking dense?! He was hitting on you, y/n, and you did nothing about it, just stood there like you’re some bimbo trying to get picked up.” His voice carrying through the living room, making you turn around immediately.

“Are you kidding me, Katsuki!” Ouch. The use of his full name forces him stop in his tracks, no more lovey dovey nicknames in place of his given one. “He was asking me where the cereal aisle was, not exactly trying to take me in the middle of the store! You need to stop being so jealous!” You yell back at him.

“You need to stop being so oblivious, I can't always be the one to pull you out when you're in trouble!” He seethes.

“And you need to learn to control your temper!” You scream back, out of breath, and headache forming from all the yelling. And with that he walks straight out of the apartment leaving you there to process what had just happened. Before your anger could set in further, Katsuki busts through the door and pulls you into a searing kiss. Eventually the two of you fell into a rhythm, mouths moving in synch to get more of each other. He moves his hands down your waist before finding a resting place on your ass. Your hands go to wrap around his neck pulling him impossibly closer.

Not long after he mutters a “Jump.” to which you comply, wrapping your legs around his built frame as he continues to kiss you.

By the end of it all, you were back where you should be; his arms draped around you in a comfortable silence and your worn-out bodies lulling each other to sleep.

Kiss Me Slowly — Pt. 2

bakugou x shy!fem!reader

masterlist

pt.2/3, pt. 1

wc: 1.5k

cw: cursing, fluff, making out, slight suggestive themes bakugou is sneaky, all characters are aged up

You and bakugou have only been dating for two months and as soon as he told his parents he had a girlfriend they flipped. So in order to get aquatinted with them the happy couple gets invited to a weekend getaway in the mountains.

Katsuki backtracks a bit to the stairs taking your bags with you and begins to climb them all the way up to his childhood room. Opening the door to his teenage mind, you wander a bit touching everything in sight as he just eyes you in wonder. Katsuki comes up behind you and turns you around slowly to face him.

“That wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be,” You bounce on your feet adrenaline still pumping through your nerves.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything and just stands there swaying you while you look into his vermilion eyes. Pulling away and heading towards your luggage you begin to unpack the things you will need for tonight and the next morning. Even though you had gotten the hard part over with there was still the burning nervousness of sharing a room with him. Something you still haven’t done. Being adults, you would think there would be a sleepover at least everyone in a while, but every time it got late, he or you would just make your way to your own home.

Katsuki felt like a middle schooler with a girl in his room for the first time, keeping his eyes on your figure just wondering how he got so lucky. That is until you break the silence once more huffing at the bag before speaking.

“Sukiiiiiii,” so draw out his name to try to sound annoyed. He walks up beside you and looks down at the bag. He knows what you’re wondering, but hey it was his mom's orders. Were you suggesting he go against his old hags wishes? A sly smirk on his face as he hums in response.

“I didn’t pack this, i don’t even own this, so why’s it in the bag?” Looking up at him holding the tiny lilac bathing suit, you give an irked expression as he laughs at you.

“I told you hag told us to pack for anything. You,” he takes a moment to poke your forehead “didn’t have a bathing suit, so I helped you out a bit,” his smirk only growing wider as you get more embarrassed.

“Well seeing as it’s winter and we are going to the mountains, I didn’t think there would be a need for… this,” It was a very pretty swimsuit just not something you have ever worn before, especially not in front of the blonde.

“Well pretty, I was just making sure you were well prepared,” he says matter-of-factly before taking a step closer to you.

A blush erupts on your face as you look back down at the article of clothing, “It is... cute.” You eventually respond. He leans down to pull you into a breath-taking kiss, molding his lips against yours just perfectly. Putting his hand on the small of your back to push you chest to chest, deepening the kiss even more. You slide one of your hands up to rest on his heart, while the other goes to toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Katsuki pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth, in a silent plea for you to open your mouth a bit to which you comply.

He slips his tongue in making you pull at his hair a bit, forcing him to groan, as slow hands begin to wander, down your sides, against your waist, about to rest on your-

“Katsuki, your mother would like you to come set the table for dinner.” Masaru says as he knocks on the door signaling his presence. Katsuki reluctantly pulls away muttering a reply to his father, all while still staring into your beautiful e/c eyes. He gives you one last kiss before he takes your hand to lead you back downstairs.

You follow him blindly, still overly flustered by what had just happened. He had never kissed you so passionately before it felt like, Fireworks. Only making you swoon for the tall man even more, making you want to kick your feet at every bit of affection he gives you. You let out a girlish giggle, only being able to contain your excitement for so long, what’s a girl to do? Katsuki stops mid-way to look back at you, confusion written all over his face. Realizing you’d been caught; your laugh slowly dies down and you just look at him shyly. Here you are, only about halfway down the stairs, just awkwardly looking at each other, until he speaks.

“What’re you giggling about back there?” There's a bit of a knowing glint in his eye as he presses on for an answer.

“I-I've just never... y’know... like that before.” You whisper as you break his gaze, before you continue, “I really liked it, suki.” You laugh a bit again, and it’s like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. Katsuki brings his hand up to your hair and ruffles it a bit. He turns around and starts to head down to the kitchen once more, you close behind. Once the two of you had gotten the table ready, you obviously helping despite him sternly telling you no, you all sit to eat.

At first, it’s a tad awkward, you shift slightly in your chair, as you twiddle with your fingers. But when Katsuki senses that you’re uncomfortable under his parent’s gaze, he takes your hand, and everything feels okay again. Mitsuki is the first to speak, interested in how the two of you got together, “So, how did you meet?” She looks up from her plate at you expectantly awaiting your answer.

“Well,” you let out a breathy laugh trying to calm your nerves, “I was at a café, and this creepy guy just wouldn’t leave me alone, even when I tried my best to show disinterest. He moved over to the seat next to me and I tried to move away but ended up falling off my chair, except I didn’t hit the floor because Katsuki was there to catch me. He must’ve seen what was about to happen, hero’s intuition, I guess. Then of course he yelled at the man.”

“And here I thought you were incapable of love, I guess when my boy sees a damsel in distress, he just can't help himself can he.” His mother says.

“Tch, she could’ve handled the guy, the brat just acts shy in front of everyone, really just a pain in my ass.” He says jokingly, smirking at your mouth agape.

“Suki, that’s mean!” You pout at him, mumbling something under your breath as his parents' chuckle.

They go into their own side conversation, reminiscing over how they met, when Katsuki moves his hand to your leg and gives a loving squeeze, before leaning to whisper in your ear, “You know I'm just playn’ with ya right, princess?”

“Hmph. I can let it slide this one time I suppose.” He laughs at your statement before continuing to eat his dinner.

The rest of the meal went smoothly and before you knew it, it was time to reside back to Katsuki’s room for bed.

“Remember we’d ought to wake up early so we can be there by noon so rest up kiddos. G’night!” Masaru says on the way to their room.

“Night.” Katsuki responds in a gruff voice, closing his door and sauntering over to you.

“C’mon pretty, let’s get changed for bed.” Giving you a swift kiss on the cheek, he goes to pull off his shirt, getting it about halfway off before you stop him.

“Wait wait wait!” You turn around fast, covering your eyes, and lowering your head.

He continues to undress his top half without you knowing, then making his way over to you. Katsuki puts his hand on your shoulder and speaks, “What’s wrong pretty? I always sleep like this, want me to leave it on?”

“I just... wasn’t expecting it that’s all.” You say, your back still to him.

“So then why dontcha turn around y/n?” He spins you around to face him, but to his surprise you still have your face covered and head down.

Once you finally look up at him, your eyes widen at the sight. He looked like he was chiseled by the gods, muscles so defined it was insane.

“You’re drooling, princess.” Katsuki says in a teasing tone, hand coming up to close your mouth.

“Suki I was not, n-now turn around so I can change.” You say with a pouty voice. He does as you say and waits for you to give him the okay. Not once did he look back even trying to peek. Once you tap him on the shoulder, signifying he can turn back, Katsuki whirls around to pick you up and throw you onto the bed.

He gets comfortable, putting his arm around you, snuggling you close, then whispering in your ear, “Sleep tight pretty, we got a long weekend ahead of us.” The last thing you feel before dozing off is the soft kiss Katsuki leaves on your neck, wishing you one final goodnight.

Sound It Out

bakugou x barista!fem!reader

masterlist

wc: 631

cw: fluff, short

Bakugou makes his daily trip to the nearest coffee shop, but today there is a new barista, who just can’t get his name right.

Bakugou starts to head down to his favorite coffee spot after his morning workout, and when he finally reaches the doors and exhausted sigh leaves his lips. He heads up to the counter ready to say his daily order only to find that when he looks up, it’s someone new. Her hair covering her eyes a bit as it drapes over her shoulder while she writes. He grunts a bit to grab her attention and when she looks up at him with shining e/c eyes, he almost chokes on his spit.

“What can I get you?” You say with a wide smile on your face, I mean it wasn’t all that often that you saw someone as attractive as him.

“Tall black coffee, hot. Please,” He utters the last part quieter than the rest.

“Sure thing! Can I get a name for the order?” You look up at him expectantly, waiting for his response.

“Katsuki.” He says before he pays for the drink watching you write on the cup. You feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re making his drink, not daring to look back at him. Walking back over to the counter you hand him the cup before wishing him a nice day, to which he just nods.

As Bakugou takes the first sip of the coffee he is taken aback, for a newbie you sure knew your shit. While the coffee was still to his lips he glances down at the cup, eyeing your handwriting. It was neat but there was one thing wrong, you had spelled his name wrong. Looking at it more clearly to confirm his suspicion, there it was “katski” His eyes were blown wide looking distastefully at the styrofoam container. How could you have gotten it wrong, it was so easy, he had nothing but good thoughts about you, until now that is. But deciding that everyone makes mistakes, Bakugou forgives you. Just this once.

Just this once turned into everyday for the next two weeks. You had come to look forward to his daily visits, standing at the counter awaiting the tall, built, blonde. Bakugou still hasn’t corrected you on his name, in fact he’s come to find it endearing, kind of like a nickname no one else calls him. So when he waltzes in one day, workout tee clinging to his muscles, you can’t help but stare. He notices your wandering eyes and continues to stride up to you.

“The usual.” Bakugou says leaning on the counter closer to you, so close you can practically smell him, even when sweaty he still smells sweet.

“On it,” You say barely above a whisper. Once you’d finished making it you go to write his name on the cup. Watching your hand write he speaks, “You know,” You stop halfway to look up at him, “ You’ve been spelling it wrong,” Your eyes widen as your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“O-oh i’m sorry,” You mutter looking down at your shoes.

“It’s not that hard y’know, ya could sound it out, it’s so easy,” amusement lingered in his eyes as he teases you. “Gimme your hand.” He demands while you set the drink down and give him your hand. “Pen too, c’mon” He beckons you to give him the writing utensil with impatience.

“Kat-su-ki, see how simple it is,” he glances down at your name tag before finishing, “Y/n” You nod up at him and he continues writing. Whipping your head down in confusion and see a jumble of numbers following his name.

“Feel free to call me if you forget how to spell it again, or,” he pauses to look you in the eye, “if you just wanna have dinner or something.” Bakugou leaves you with a smirk and your jaw on the floor, but not before closing the hand he wrote in and bidding you farewell. Your co-workers watch in shock and you just continue to watch him walk away.