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LOVE IS A DISEASE âś FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI | M.LIST
ę° synopsis ęą âś between managing dynamightâs image and cleaning up his pr messes, you think youâre decent at keeping things under control. unless it comes to your feelingsâyou definitely canât keep those under control
or: you are bakugou katsukiâs perpetually nagging publicist, and heâs your most troublesome client. for some odd reason, thatâs exactly why you both work
ę° word count ęą âś (tba. but estimated 40-50k words) ; holy fuck this is the longest thing iâve ever written so far. plssss give it a chance though!!!
ę° before you read ęą âś female reader + feminine clothing ; publicist reader ; quirkless reader ; pro hero bakugou ; bakugou and kirishima run an agency together ; workplace romance ; many chronically online social media references ; smut (please read warnings on individual chapters!) ; villain attacks ; injuries + blood (nothing gory though) ; canon compliant + contains spoilers for timeskip ; fluff + bantering ; arguments + minor angst ; happy endings! ; mostly proof read
ę° commentary ęą âś omg. i have no clue how this small idea blew up into a whole series but here we are lolllll
ę° upload schedule ęą âś chapters will be uploaded once a week on friday evenings cst! (the first 33k words are already written i swear the chapters are coming)
ââ âś PART ONE (16.6k words)
ââ âś PART TWO (12.1k words)
ââ âś PART THREE (coming june 12th)
more tba. (there will be at least one more part but it might be more. idk yet it depends on how many words the ending scenes will be as i only have them roughly outlined so far)
Seeing you at Shotoâs celebratory get together for reaching second place in the hero ranks should evoke no feelings from Katsuki, right? Even if he hasnât seen you in three years. Even if he might just want you back a little
Tags/CW: exes to ???, emotionally constipated Katsuki (just how I like it), angst with happy ending, making up, kissing, conversations about sex but no smut, making out in Katsukiâs car, takes place during MHA: more (but I made it a bit fancier), men who yearn are men who earn
The bathroom is too hot.
Steam still clings to the mirror even though Katsuki cracked the door open nearly ten minutes ago, and now every surface still has that damp, sticky feeling that makes his skin itch. The air smells faintly like eucalyptus from the stupid overpriced shaving cream Kirishima convinced him to buy last month, mixed with clean soap and the sharp metallic scent of running water. His apartment is quiet except for the constant buzz of the fluorescent light above him and the rough scrape of the razor dragging slowly down his jaw.
âShitâFuckââ
He hisses through his teeth the second the blade catches unevenly against his skin. A sting blooms near his chin, followed by the bright bead of blood surfacing almost immediately.
Katsuki glares at himself through the fogged mirror like the reflection personally pissed him off.
âGreat.â
He looks fine. More than fine, honestly, which somehow only irritates him more.
His hair is freshly trimmed, the ash blond strands still slightly damp from his shower, pushed back messily from his forehead. The sleeves of his black compression shirt cling to his shoulders and arms while the expensive button-up he plans on wearing hangs neatly from the bathroom door beside pressed slacks he spent way too long picking out earlier. Even his watch sits carefully beside the sink instead of abandoned somewhere random like usual. The entire thing feels too deliberate. Too polished. Too much like he gives a shit.
Which he doesnât.
Obviously.
Except his stomach has felt weird since he woke up this morning.
Not nervous. Definitely not nervous.Â
He canât pinpoint the exact moment he clocked off hero work or how much time he spent at the gym so he could show off a pump tonight, nor can he try to convince himself it isnât for the reason he doesnât want to admit. He just wants to look good.
And thatâs it. Simple as it sounds. No reason for him to choke on stuttering breaths.
The razor scrapes harder against his jaw this time as he rinses it aggressively under the sink. Hot water rushes over his fingers, turning the tips of them pink.
The celebration dinner is stupid to begin with, if you ask him.
Shoto gets ranked top two after the downtown incident last month, Endeavor immediately turns it into some flashy media spectacle about family legacy and hero society, and somehow all of Class A gets invited because the public still eats up that âgolden generationâ garbage years later. Old classmates pretending they all still keep in touch more often than not. The entire thing sounds exhausting.
But youâre gonna be there.
Thatâs the problem.
For all he cares, itâs beenâwhat? Three years?
Three fucking years since heâs properly seen you.
Not in passing through articles online. Not blurry photos people tag him in accidentally after hero events. Not hearing your name mentioned by Mina or Sero every couple of months when they gossip over drinks.
Actually seeing you.
As in, In person.
Close enough to touch.
Because when him and you were no more, instead of running back to him like youâd always do, you moved out of Japan, got a job somewhere else in the world. You blocked him on all socials, blocked his number âeven the agency landlineâ and for a while, he didnât care to contact you. He didnât care to check up on you, because who checks up on someone who said they wished they never met you? He went out of your life as quietly as you went out of his. Not caring if his last words hurt you, like you did.
Katsuki braces both hands against the sink and stares downward as water drips steadily from the faucet. His reflection blurs at the edges from the steam still clouding the glass, turning him into something distorted and unfamiliar.
Pathetic.
The worst part is he doesnât even know what version of you is walking through those doors tonight.
Maybe youâre angry.
Maybe you barely look at him.
Maybe youâve become one of those calm, polished heroes that smile perfectly for cameras now, the kind that know exactly how to navigate crowded rooms without making enemies out of everyone in them.
Or maybe youâll look through him entirely.
That thought digs somewhere unpleasant beneath his ribs.
Fair enough, honestly.
He earns that.
The memory still crawls up on him sometimes when it gets too quiet. Usually late at night after patrol when heâs too exhausted to keep his thoughts from wandering somewhere ugly.
In all honesty he did try to talk to you. Last year, after he found out he wasnât blocked anymore. But he was angry, vulgar, everything youâve ever said you hated about him. And for better or for worse you had only told him you knew heâd never change. And he had left it there, not pressing anymore, not needing anymore proof to accept you just werenât coming back.
Maybe this is why he wonât wear the polished clothes heâs picked out for tonight. Maybe the Nike sweats he tumble dried this morning and a t-shirt will make him look more casual, put together in a way fancy clothes wonât.
Because tonight is casual to him. It should be, at least, amidst picking up Kirishima and Izuku in his new car. He shouldnât even care that youâre going to be there.
He keeps staring at himself anyway.
Like maybe if he looks long enough, heâll suddenly figure out why this feels so fucking strange.
The bathroom light washes his skin pale while steam curls slowly around the edges of the mirror, softening the sharpness of his reflection. Katsuki barely recognizes the version of himself standing there sometimes. Not because he looks differentâhe does, obviously, older and broader and rougher around the edgesâbut because somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-five, the anger inside him changed shape.
Less explosive.
Much more exhausting.
He reaches for the towel hanging off the counter and drags it roughly over his face before tossing it aside. The nick near his chin still stings faintly. Tiny. Irritating. His eyes flick toward the button-up hanging from the bathroom door again, then away immediately.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
The idea of showing up looking like he spent hours trying to impress you makes something hot crawl up his neck. It feels pathetic now. Worse now, somehow, after standing here spiraling like an idiot for nearly forty minutes over a dinner he doesnât even want to attend.
Katsuki grabs the hanger off the door and shoves the expensive shirt deeper into the closet on his way back into the bedroom.
Fuck that.
The softer lighting from his room settles easier against his eyes compared to the harsh fluorescent buzz of the bathroom. Outside the windows, the city glows orange and blue beneath the darkening sky, traffic crawling between towering buildings while distant sirens echo somewhere far below. His apartment sits high enough that most nights the noise blends together into background static.
Tonight it all feels too loud.
He yanks open a drawer harder than necessary and pulls out the black t-shirt he wears for training. The fabric stretches tight across his shoulders when he changes, outlining muscle built from years of relentless schedules, combat drills, patrols, sleepless nights at the gym whenever his head gets too crowded to sit still inside his own apartment.
Not for you.
Obviously.
The thought comes so defensive it almost makes him scoff at himself.
The sweats are clean at least. Black Nike joggers fresh from the dryer this morning, soft at the inside, fitted enough that Kirishima once called them âboyfriend material clothesâ before Katsuki threatened to blast him through a wall. Casual. Comfortable. Like he isnât thinking about tonight at all.
Like he didnât spend an embarrassing amount of time earlier deciding between watches.
His jaw tightens again.
This is ridiculous.
Youâre just another person he used to know.
Thatâs it.
Three years changes people. Hell, maybe you arenât even the same woman anymore. Maybe you cut your hair shorter now. Maybe you picked up some accent overseas since your Japanese seemed too weird the last time you talked. Andâ and maybe, like the thoughts that used to consume him before he ever reached out to you last year, thereâs somebody else waiting for you back home after tonight, somebody softer than him. Somebody easier. Someone your shared friends know about but wonât let him know of.
That thought lands badly, like he woke a dragon from a millennial slumber. His chest immediately feels too tight for it.
Katsuki snatches his car keys off the counter before he can sit with the feeling any longer.
His hone buzzes again from the kitchen table as he passes by. Probably Kirishima. Maybe Deku. Maybe another last-minute reminder about tonightâs schedule.
He ignores it.
The kitchen still smells faintly like coffee from this morning, dishes abandoned beside the sink because he hasnât had enough energy lately to care about cleaning immediately after meals. Thereâs protein powder spilled near the toaster from breakfast. A hoodie tossed over one of the dining chairs. Tiny signs of somebody actually living here instead of the spotless, polished apartment magazines keep trying to photograph whenever reporters sneak glimpses during interviews.
For a second, his eyes drift unconsciously toward the balcony.
You used to stand out there all the time. Especially during storms.
Wrapped in one of his hoodies with your arms folded over the railing while Musutafu lit up below you in blurred neon reflections. You always complained the city looked lonely from this high up.
Katsuki used to think that was stupid. Now he gets it.
His throat feels strangely dry.
âFuckinâ hell,â he mutters under his breath.
The worst part is he genuinely has no idea how tonightâs gonna go.
Maybe youâll smile politely at him like heâs an old coworker and heâll have to be casual about greeting you, though he doesnât want to.
Maybe youâll avoid him altogether.
Maybe Minaâll force everybody into some obnoxious group photo and suddenly heâll be standing beside you for the first time in years pretending his heart isnât punching against his ribs hard enough to bruise merely at the thought of it all.
Or maybeâ
Maybe youâll just look heavenly good.
Thatâs the real problem, honestly.
Because he already knows you will.
Not because of makeup or clothes or whatever expensive shit pro heroes wear to these events now. You always looked good to him in ways that annoyed the hell out of him. Half-asleep in his shirts. Sitting on his kitchen counter eating takeout straight from the carton. Yelling at him from across the apartment while he ignored you on purpose just to hear you get louder.
Three years later and his body still remembers stupid things about you automatically.
The sound of your laugh.
The weight of your legs thrown over his lap.
The smell of your peachy shampoo lingering on his pillows after arguments where one of you stormed out dramatically only to come back two hours later.
Katsuki grips his keys tighter.
Nope.
Heâs not doing this tonight. Heâs not showing up already halfway dragged into the past because of somebody who made it painfully clear they didnât want him in their life anymore.
That should matter.
It does matter.
And honestly, he understands why you left.
Back then he was still angry at everything. Angry at hero society. Angry at himself. Angry at how badly he wanted somebody and how terrified he is of needing them at the same time. Every conversation between you eventually turned into him snapping before you can get too close to whatever ugly thing sits underneath his ribs.
You called him cruel once.
Not loudly. Not even during a fight.
Just tired.
And somehow that had struck him worse than any screaming ever could. Thatâs when it clicked to him, that no matter how much you said you saw the good in him, you never truly could. Even if one of your last sentences to him was that you loved him, he didnât believe you could ever love someone you thought was cruel, someone you wish you never met.Â
Katsuki locks the apartment behind him harder than necessary before heading toward the elevator.
The hallway lights flicker softly overhead while he waits, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. His reflection stares back at him from the metal elevator doorsâbroad shoulders, tired eyes, black compression shirt clinging too tightly against muscle that suddenly feels more like armor than confidence.
Casual.
Tonight is casual.
Just old classmates catching up. Nothing more.
Then his phone vibrates again.
EIJIRO: donât be weird tonight bro
A second message immediately follows; something about sitting shotgun in his new car.
Katsuki stares at the screen for a long moment. Then another vibration.
IZUKU: Kacchan are we still meeting downstairs in 20?
His jaw flexes hard enough to ache.
Because somehow, despite everything, despite all the years and silence and blocked numbers and ugly last conversationsâ
A part of him still feels twenty-two again. Twenty-two and convinced that no one could love the way he expressed himself.
______
By the time Katsuki parks outside the izakaya, the knot in his stomach has already settled into something meaner. Sharper. Musutafu glows around him and his friends in streaks of reflected neon against rain-dark pavement while a valet moves between cars beneath the izakaya entrance. The place itself is ridiculously upscale even if it is just traditional, all warm golden lighting spilling through enormous glass windows and polished black stone.
Kirishima lets out a low whistle from the passenger seat as he climbs out. âCanât wait to see everyone.âÂ
âShut the fuck up,â Katsuki mutters automatically, already slamming the car door closed harder than necessary.
Cold evening air immediately brushes against the back of his neck. Somewhere nearby, traffic hums steadily through the city while muffled laughter spills from the izakaya entrance every time the doors open. Izuku smooths anxiously at the sleeves of his suit beside the car, glancing toward the building with that same nervous energy heâs carried since high school.
âDo we think Todoroki planned all this himself,â he starts, adjusting his tie, âor do you think Endeavor hiredââ
âDeku,â Katsuki interrupts flatly, shoving his hands into his pockets, âif you start analyzing anything, iâm leaving.â
âI wasnât gonna analyze theââ
âYou literally were.â
Kirishima snorts loudly beside them, and normally the familiar bickering would loosen something in Katsukiâs chest. Tonight it barely registers because his attention keeps drifting toward the entrance before they even reach it, heartbeat strangely steady in a way that feels worse than panic. Like his body already knows something his brain is still trying to avoid.
The hostess opens the doors with a practiced smile, and warm air immediately wraps around them alongside the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The restaurant is crowded with heroes, old classmates that are lingering discreetly in sorted tables near the back, all surrounded by polished wood and amber lighting that makes everything glow soft and expensive.
Katsuki barely notices any of it.
His eyes find you almost instantly.
Of course they do.
Youâre seated near the center of the room beside the girls, half-turned toward Mina while Ochaco laughs at something across the table. The lighting catches warmly against the side of your face, softening the curve of your expression while gold jewelry glints subtly against your skin every time you move. Your hair is longer now than the last time he saw you in person, falling over your shoulders while one hand curls loosely around a sake glass. You look comfortable there. Relaxed. Like you belong in rooms like this now.
And for one awful second, Katsuki genuinely forgets how to breathe.
Three years vanish instantly beneath the weight of recognition. His body remembers you before his brain does, something visceral and humiliating tightening beneath his ribs before he can stop it.
Fuck.
You look different, but not enough to feel unfamiliar. Older, maybe. Sharper around the edges in the way everybody becomes sharper with time. Thereâs confidence in the way you sit now that wasnât fully there before, something steadier beneath your posture. You carry yourself like someone whoâs finally learned how to exist without apologizing for taking up space.
Then Mina notices them entering.
âOh my god, finally!â she calls immediately, waving dramatically across the room. âYou guys are late as hell!â
Several heads turn at once.
Including yours.
Katsuki feels it immediately, that split second your eyes land on him from across the room. It happens so fast he almost convinces himself he imagined it. No widening. No visible surprise. No anger flashing across your face. Your gaze settles on him briefly before moving smoothly toward Kirishima instead.
âOh, Eiji,â you smile warmly, standing slightly from your pillow as the group approaches. âHi.â
The knot in Katsukiâs stomach twists tighter.
Kirishima grins instantly. âThere she is. Damn, itâs been forever.â
âIt literally has,â Mina groans dramatically. âThis bitch abandoned us internationally.â
You laugh softly at that, embarrassed enough to duck your head slightly.
The sound lands somewhere dangerous in Katsukiâs chest.
Ochaco immediately stands to greet Izuku while the others start talking over each other all at once, greetings and questions colliding noisily together after years apart. You converse with everyone easily. Kirishima gets pulled into a quick side hug while you squeeze Ochacoâs hand excitedly across the table. You ask Izuku about agency work overseas, laugh when Kaminari nearly trips over a table trying to sit down, you smile politely at Jirou when she teases your accent sounding slightly different now.
But Katsuki gets nothing.
At first he tells himself maybe you just havenât gotten there yet. Maybe itâs awkward. Maybe youâre nervous too and trying to settle into the conversation before acknowledging him properly.
Then Kirishima nudges him lightly with his elbow.
âOi,â he mutters under his breath, âsay hi, silly.â
Katsukiâs jaw tightens immediately.
His eyes flick toward you again, but youâre already sitting back down beside Mina, smoothing your sleeve absentmindedly while listening to Momo speak. Completely relaxed. Completely normal.
Like he isnât even there.
Something hot immediately crawls beneath his skin, but it doesnât feel like anger. Anger wouldâve been easier to deal with. Easier to understand. This feels uglier than that.
Because you arenât being cold.
You arenât glaring at him or avoiding eye contact dramatically or making the tension obvious for everyone else at the table.
Youâre just indifferent.
Clean, casual, effortless indifference that makes it painfully obvious youâve already figured out how to exist in the same room as him without it affecting you at all.
Katsuki pulls form to his seat harder than necessary across from Kirishima, the sharp scrape of the table flinching away from him against the floor briefly cutting through the table conversation. Nobody reacts except Mina, whose eyes dart toward him automatically before flicking carefully toward you.
You donât even look up.
Jesus Christ.
His chest suddenly feels too tight.
âYou look good, by the way,â Mina says suddenly, leaning dramatically against your shoulder. âLike suspiciously good. What the hell are they feeding you overseas?â
You laugh quietly, almost embarrassed by the attention. âLiterally just less stress, probably.â
The joke lands casually around the table. Kaminari laughs. Jirou snorts into her drink. Ochaco starts teasing you immediately about abandoning Japanese work culture.
Nobody else notices anything strange about the comment.
But Katsuki does.
Of course he fucking does.
Less stress.
Like loving him had exhausted you so thoroughly that leaving the entire country became the healthiest thing youâd ever done for yourself.
His fingers curl tighter around the edge of the menu sitting untouched in front of him.
âStill working with that rescue agency?â Izuku asks curiously.
You nod. âMostly disaster relief now, yeah. Itâs quieter than here.â
âQuieter?â Kaminari repeats incredulously. âWhy would you want quieter?â
âBecause some people enjoy peace,â Jirou answers dryly.
âExactly,â you laugh.
And there it is again, that strange feeling pressing heavier against Katsukiâs ribs every time you smile. Because you do seem peaceful now. Not forced. Not pretending. Actually peaceful.
Your posture stays relaxed through every conversation. Your smile comes easier than he remembers. Even your voice sounds lighter somehow, no longer carrying that constant tension that used to sit beneath your words whenever the two of you argued. Back then, loving each other always felt loud. Intense. Like every conversation teetered dangerously close to becoming a fight neither of you knew how to stop once it started.
Now you just seem⌠calm.
Katsuki suddenly feels too large in his seat. Too rough around the edges for this version of you. His broad shoulders, his obnoxiously loud voice, the constant restless energy simmering beneath his skin all feel painfully obvious in comparison to the quiet ease you carry now.
Mina notices it first.
Her eyes flick carefully between the two of you once. Then again.
Her smile falters slightly.
Because now itâs becoming noticeable to everybody else too.
You still havenât acknowledged Katsuki properly once since they entered the izakaya.
Kirishima notices next, judging by the awkward way he shifts beside Katsuki before clearing his throat.
âSo, uhâŚâ he starts carefully, eyes darting between you both. âCrazy seeing everybody together again, huh?â
âMm,â you hum politely before taking another sip of your drink.
Thatâs it.
No tension sharpens your voice. No bitterness leaks through your expression. Nothing about your reaction feels forced or emotional at all. Katsuki Bakugo has somehow become just another former classmate sitting at the table across from yours instead of the man you once shared a bed and apartment and entire future with.Â
You used to tell each other that by the time youâre twenty-five youâd surprise your friends and old classmates by popping a kid out of the blue in one of these events. You used to laugh at the thought of him flaunting a baby bump on you, dreaming that youâd hide your engagement ring from everyone until it was the right time to announce youâd get married.
In another life, it may have been different.
Instead of that, you and him are forcibly strangers now; the realization settles, once again heavily in his stomach.
At least showing hatred towards him would mean he still mattered enough to ruin your evening.
This indifference feels like being erased entirely.
______________
The longer the night settles around the izakaya, the more Katsuki realizes he completely misjudged what this dinner was supposed to be.
Not some polished, high-class event packed with cameras and stiff hero society bullshit.
Just an izakaya. Despite how fancy it is.
A crowded, noisy, familiar little place tucked between glowing Musutafu storefronts where the tables are too close together and the air smells like grilled meat, fried oil, spilled beer, and cigarette smoke clinging faintly to old wood. Somebody in the back is laughing loud enough to echo over the music while waiters squeeze through narrow spaces carrying trays overloaded with skewers and drinks. Half the groupâs jackets are already tossed carelessly everywhere.
Casual.
Comfortable.
The kind of place Class A used to practically live in after internships.
Which somehow makes this worse.
Because you fit into it too naturally even if youâve missed the majority of it.
Time passes eerily as Katsuki watches from across the table while Mina complains dramatically about agency interns stealing her skincare products, and you laugh so easily at something dumb Kaminari says that for a split second it genuinely feels like no time has passed at all.
Except it has.
He notices it in tiny things.
You donât interrupt people as much anymore. Back then you used to talk over everyone whenever you got excited, eyes bright and hands moving while you argued passionately about absolutely everything. Now you lean back when people speak, quieter in a way that feels more intentional than shy. You still smile the same, though. That part hits him unexpectedly hard.
Same slight squint around your eyes. Maybe a few subtle wrinkles now, that still manage to look good on you.
Same habit of hiding your laugh behind your drink or your hand sometimes.
Itâs awful how quickly he notices all of it.
A waiter slides another round of drinks onto the table, glass clinking loudly against wood.
âBakugo,â Sero grins from farther down the booth, already flushed pink from alcohol, âyouâve been weirdly quiet all night. You sick or somethinâ?â
âIâm always quiet,â Katsuki answers flatly before taking a long sip of beer.
The table immediately erupts.
âThat is literally not true,â Jirou snorts.
âShut up! It is!â
âMe when I lieâ Mina snorts.
âYou used to start fights with strangers in restaurants,â Kaminari points out.
âCorrection,â Kirishima says, grinning, âhe used to start fights with strangers everywhere.â
âI remember that guy at karaokeââ
âHe deserved it.â
âYou didnât even know him!â
Katsuki barely listens.
Because across the table, youâre smiling into your drink again, shoulders shaking slightly with quiet laughter while Mina nearly falls sideways into Ochaco from laughing too hard.
And you still wonât look at him.
Not really.
Your gaze passes over him occasionally in that absent, polite way people acknowledge furniture in crowded rooms, but nothing lingers. No awkwardness. No tension. No visible effort to avoid him either still, which somehow stings too much.
Itâs like you already adjusted to his presence within the first five minutes of arriving.
Meanwhile he feels painfully aware of every movement you make.
The way your rings tap softly against your glass.
The faint crease between your brows whenever you listen closely to someone speaking.
The small scar near your wrist he remembers kissing once while you laid half-asleep across his chest.
His stomach twists hard enough to make him irritated with himself all over again.
This is fucking ridiculous.
âBakugo.â
His head lifts automatically.
Momoâs looking at him from across the table. âDid you hear me?â
âNo.â
âI said,â she repeats patiently, âShoto wants everyone at his agency anniversary event next month too.â
Kaminari groans. âDude, you say no to everything.â
âBecause everything sounds terrible.â
âSee?â Mina points accusingly toward you. âThis is why our sweetie over here escaped the country. Weâre emotionally exhausting.â
The comment is obviously meant as a joke and the table laughs.
Even you smile.
But Katsuki feels the words land somewhere unpleasant anyway.
Before he can stop himself, his eyes flick toward you.
For the first time all night, you finally look directly back at him.
It lasts maybe two seconds!?
Three, max.
Then, when Kirishima opens his mouth itâs as if he canât stop being a moron. Like he never could have guessed what the context of âtime and placeâ is. He points at you, then Katsuki.
âRemember when you guys sneaked out during the winter festival and everyone thought you were kidnapped?â
The entire table immediately erupts.
âOh my god.â
âThey were gone for HOURSââ
âBecause SOMEONE turned their phones off,â Kaminari wheezes.
âYou guys came back looking guilty as hell,â Mina accuses dramatically.
Katsuki feels his shoulders tense instantly. He sees you shrink into a timely creature in your seat.
Back then, youâd dragged him behind the gym building because you were freezing and irritated and insisted his body temperature was âunnaturally useful.â He remembers pinning you against the wall afterward just to shut you up after you laughed at how red his ears got.
He remembers kissing you until neither of you could breathe properly.Â
The memory hits hard enough to feel physical. Youthful kisses, teenage loveâ he remembers how it felt when he kissed you first and when he had kissed you then. He remembers making out in your dorm late at night when he shouldâve been resting his injuries after the war.
Around the table, everyoneâs still laughing.
Except you.
Youâve gone still beside Mina, fingers tightening almost invisibly around your drink before you take another sip.
Then, calmly, casuallyâ
âSo,â you interrupt smoothly, turning toward Ochaco and Tsuyu instead, âhowâs hero life treating you two?â
Clean cut. Effortless for anyone who canât read behind your eyes.
The conversation immediately shifts away from the topic entirely.
Like you did it on purpose. Like the memory embarrasses you now.
Katsuki drops whatever sits at the top of his tongue like it stung too much to be spoken out loud. Like he was given a sound reminder that his words are always unnecessary.
___________
Everyone eventually becomes too careless despite the fragility of the situation.
Alcohol warms the tables steadily, loosening voices and posture until conversations start overlapping loudly across the cramped izakaya booth. Kaminari is practically hanging halfway over Sero now while arguing about hero rankings nobody else cares about, and Kirishimaâs laugh keeps booming loudly enough to earn irritated glances from nearby tables. Even more empty beer glasses crowd together beside greasy plates streaked with sauce while waiters weave expertly through the narrow aisles carrying fresh rounds of skewers and drinks.
Normally Katsuki would be right in the middle of it all.
Tonight he barely said a word, even if he found himself at your table for some reason.
Because every single time the conversation drifts naturally toward old memories involving the two of you, you choose to redirect it before it can fully land.
Always subtle enough most people probably donât notice.
But he notices.
Every single time.
When Mina starts retelling the beach trip where the two of you once again disappeared from the bonfire for over an hour, you smoothly interrupt to ask Jirou about her latest music project overseas. When Kirishima almost brings up the apartment you used to share in the heart of the city, you casually wave down the waiter and ask if anyone wants another round of drinks before he can finish the sentence.
And the worst part is how effortless you make it look.
You arenât visibly uncomfortable. You arenât tense or bitter or awkward every time his name comes up paired with yours. You navigate around him cleanly, naturally, like youâve already spent years learning exactly how to exist comfortably in spaces where even if Katsuki Bakugo is present, he can simply be erased.
The notion starts irritating him more with every passing minute. It sits tighter beneath his ribs by the second. Makes his heart beat in fragile, irregular beats.
A doctor had once told him to keep track of arhythmic beats like this.Â
Tonight he does not. But usually, he does.
Across the table, you tilt your head back slightly while laughing at something Ochaco says, fingers still loosely wrapped around your glass. The soft amber lighting from the hanging lanterns catches against your face warmly enough that Katsuki immediately looks away afterward, jaw tightening hard.
Then your phone lights up beside your plate.
His eyes catch it automatically, assumption quick to replace every spec of vermilion in his irises.
A name flashes briefly across the screen before you casually turn the phone face down against the table.
Itâs a nickname paired with a heart.
It could be a friend, but for that heâs unconvinced.
Something twists violently low in Katsukiâs stomach.
Immediate. Sharp enough to genuinely piss him off.
Three years.
Obviously thereâs somebody else now.
What the hell did he expect? That you spent years overseas grieving a relationship that ended with both of you saying things cruel enough to permanently carve into each other?
His fingers curl tighter around his beer glass.
Mina notices instantly.
Her eyes flick carefully between him and you before she awkwardly clears her throat. âOkay, wow,â she says carefully, trying to laugh through the tension, âthis table energyâs getting kinda weird.â
âOnly because your face gets louder every time you drink,â Jirou answers dryly without looking up from her glass.
âNo, seriously,â Mina insists now, glancing more cautiously toward Katsuki. âEverybodyâs acting strange.â
âNobodyâs acting strange,â you answer calmly before finally looking directly at Katsuki for the second time all night.
And somehow that feels worse.
You really are fine. Not pretending. Not secretly emotional underneath the surface. Fiâne. Almost too cold.
You are completely, genuinely fine sitting across from him after three years apart.
Something reckless rises inside his chest almost immediately.
âYou got somethinâ to say?â Katsuki asks suddenly, attention fully turned to you. âThen say it to my face.â
For once, he manages to keep your eyes in his.
The table quiets.
Not completely, but enough that nearby conversations and clinking glasses start bleeding awkwardly into the silence between your group.
Your brows pull together faintly before rising. âWhat?â
âYouâve barely looked at me all night.â
âWhy would I?â
When you respond, Kirishima visibly winces beside him.
âBakugo,â he mutters quietly under his breath.
An effort for calmness that pays out fruitless soil. Katsuki barely hears him now that the irritationâs already pushing its way out.
âNo, seriously,â he continues, eyes locked onto yours. âWhatâs the deal?â
The atmosphere around the table shifts immediately.
Mina looks horrified. Izuku suddenly looks like he wants the floor to physically open beneath himâhe hasnât said anything about you up till now. Not on the phone, not in the car when Katsuki snapped like broken glass at every single thing. He didnât even say anything about you when Katsuki told him that if he treats everyone like theyâre special, then no one really is special to him. (When does Katsuki ever get so emotional?)
Even Kaminari goes quiet for once.
You stare at Katsuki from across the table for a long moment, expression unreadable beneath the warm restaurant lighting. Then you blink slowly before setting your drink down carefully against the table.
ââŚThereâs no deal. You made sure of that.â
The calmness in your voice instantly makes his irritation worse.
âYouâve been ignoring me all night.â
âNo,â you answer evenly, âIâve been talking to everyone.â
âExcept me.â
The silence afterward settles heavily between you both.
Around the table, nobody moves. The noise of the izakaya suddenly feels distant compared to the pressure building in the booth. You lean back slightly in your seat, eyes finally holding his properly instead of sliding politely past him like earlier.
âWhat exactly are you expecting from me here, Katsuki?â
The question catches him off guard immediately.
Not because of the words but because of the exhaustion in your tone that has completely replaced anger.
âI dunno,â he answers flatly, defensive before he can stop himself. âBasic acknowledgement maybe.â
You stare at him another second before letting out a small breath through your nose. Not dramatic. Not emotional. Just tired.
âI said hi when you walked in.â
âNo,â Katsuki says immediately, âyou said hi to Eijiro.â
Kaminari audibly mutters âoh my god, bets. Bets now!â under his breath before Mina immediately kicks him hard beneath the table.
Your fingers tap once lightly against your glass before stilling again completely.
Then, finally, something shifts in your expression.
And itâs not sadness.
Just plain right resignation. Like youâve already given up.
Because now everybody at the table is looking literally anywhere except the two of you. Kirishima suddenly becomes very interested in his drink. Ochaco stares fixedly at the condensation sliding down her glass. Even Sero awkwardly clears his throat under his breath.
âFuck yeah, stop playing games.â
You hold Katsukiâs gaze the entire time when you speak again.
âI ainât got shit to say to you in front of everyone.â You say, bluntly, âbut since you say we donât have to play games, I didnât ignore you because I hate you,â you continue. âI ignored you because every single time I look at you, I remember the last conversation we had.â
The words land directly against his sternum. Heavy. Sharp like a swirly blade and enough that for a second he genuinely forgets how to respond.
The memory crashes back immediately whether he wants it to or not.
Rain hammering against pavement outside the apartment.
You crying so hard your voice kept shaking despite how badly you tried hiding it.
Him saying things he knew would hurt before they even left his mouth.
You standing there afterward like heâd physically reached inside your chest and twisted something apart with his bare hands.
âI wish I never met you.â
Katsuki remembers that part perfectly.
Worse, he remembers exactly what he said right before to make you say it. Something cruel. Something calculated. Something along the lines of âyouâre lying to yourself when you say you love me.â
Because back then hurting each other always came easier than admitting how badly neither of you wanted things to end.
Across the table, your expression remains composed, but now he notices the strain sitting carefully beneath it. The effort itâs taking you to stay this calm. To keep your voice level instead of letting old wounds split open in front of everyone.
âIâm not trying to make tonight uncomfortable,â you continue more quietly now. âI came because Iâm back in Japan and I missed everyone. Thatâs all.â
Everyone.
But not specifically him.
The distinction settles ugly and heavy enough inside his chest that he and everyone else in this room are short of words
The atmosphere around the table changes only when the emergency hero alert rings on everyoneâs phones.
Around you, everybody moves at once.
Years of training erase the awkwardness almost instantly. Drinks abandoned. Jackets pulled on. Conversations cut short mid-sentence while tables scrape across wood flooring. The emotional wreckage sitting between you and Katsuki gets shoved violently aside beneath instinct and urgency.
You stand automatically too.
And for one humiliating second, relief floods through you so fast it almost makes your knees weak. Because now you donât have to stay sitting across from him anymore.
You donât have to survive whatever expression is currently sitting on Katsukiâs face after what you just said.
You donât have to keep pretending your heart isnât beating so hard it physically hurts.
The group spills out into the cold Musutafu night in a rush of noise and movement. Sirens already echo faintly somewhere ahead, reflecting red against rain-slick pavement while civilians stop to stare at the sudden crowd of pro heroes flooding onto the sidewalk.
You breathe in sharply the second cold air hits your lungs.
It helps. Barely. Your hands still feel shaky and so fucking stupid..
Because the worst partâthe genuinely humiliating partâis that none of what you said was a lie.
You did ignore Katsuki because looking at him hurts.
But not in the way everyone at that table probably assumed. Everyone, including him, thinks itâs because you stopped loving him.
And honestly thatâwouldâve been easier.
The problem is, that standing across from Katsuki after three years still feels dangerously close to standing too near an open flame. Like one wrong moment of weakness could drag you straight back into him before you remember all the reasons you left in the first place.
And Godâyou wanted to.
Thatâs the pathetic part.
The second he walked into the restaurant tonight, broad shoulders filling the doorway, looking so pretty even if all the boyish charm had abandoned his face for good, while his eyes immediately found yours across the room, something inside your chest reacted so violently you almost forgot how to breathe.
Three years.
Three whole fucking years.
And your body still recognized him instantly.
You hated that.
Hated how good he looked. Hated how familiar his voice sounded. Hated that even now, after everything, some traitorous part of you still wanted to walk straight across the room and touch him just to prove he was real. Kiss him so you at least be able to go back to your friends overseas and let them know you got the kiss of closure youâve been wanting so desperately.Â
But you knew better now.
You had to know better now.
Because loving Katsuki always felt like standing too close to an explosion and convincing yourself the heat wasnât burning you alive.
You pull your hair back quickly while jogging after the others down the crowded sidewalk, the heels of your boots striking wet pavement hard enough to ground you back into the present. Neon signs blur overhead while people move aside hurriedly at the sight of pro heroes rushing past.
Beside you, Ochaco glances over briefly.
âYou okay?â
The question is gentle enough to make your throat tighten unexpectedly.
âYeah,â you answer immediately.
Too quickly.
Ochacoâs expression softens in that awful way people look at wounded animals they arenât sure how to help. That facade that all heroes put on when theyâre helping a missing child find their mommy.
You look away to let her go before she can say anything else.
Ahead of the group, Katsuki is already moving faster than everyone else, irritation practically radiating off him in waves while sparks crackle faintly against his palms. The familiar sight hits somewhere deep in your chest with painful precision.
God.
There he isâ Still carrying himself like the entire world personally offended him for existing.
And somehow you still love him enough it makes you feel sick.
You wonder briefly if he knows.
If heâs always known and if so, why heâs denying it.
Maybe thatâs what made the breakup so unbearable in the first place. Katsuki understood exactly how much power he had over you, and every time he got scared of needing someone that badly in return, he lashed out before you could hurt him first.
________
The robbery cleanup drags longer than expected.
Statements. Damage reports. Civilians needing reassurance. Media helicopters circling overhead long enough to become irritating background noise.
By the time everything finally settles, the sky above Musutafu has turned that heavy shade of black and blue. The streets are quieter now, washed silver beneath streetlights while exhausted civilians slowly reclaim the sidewalks. Neon signs remain glowing in the background of it all.
Katsuki feels wrung out.
Not physically, though. Physically heâs fine. His heart, at least, has finally stopped palpitating. Itâs everything else which isnât his heart that's clawing at the inside of his chest thatâs making him tired.
After an agonizing thirty minutes of broken communications on splitting the bill with everyone else, he gets dragged into easy conversation.
âAlright, alright,â Kaminari groans dramatically while stretching his arms over his head. âIâm officially declaring tonight cursed.â
âYou declare everything cursed,â Mina replies instantly.
âBecause everything is cursed.â
Kirishima snorts beside them while Izuku adjusts the strap of his gauntlets. âAt least nobody got seriously hurt.â
âYeah,â Katsuki mutters distractedly, digging his car keys from his pocket.
His mind hasnât stopped replaying the familiar sound of your voice through your conversation for the past twenty minutes. The kind of familiar that dug straight under his skin and stayed there.
Katsuki hates how much those words affected him. Hates that part of him wanted to turn around and ask what the hell that tone meant after everything thatâs happened between you before leaving for his hero duties.
Instead, he shoved it down where everything else goes. The pit of his dropping stomach.
The group behind him, after enthusiastically rejoicing and pleading for even a sight of his car, reaches the parking structure entrance together with him, footsteps echoing faintly through the concrete levels while fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Minaâs still talking about how good the food was. Kirishimaâs half-listening while Denki complains loudly about tomorrowâs paperwork.
Normal. Everything feels painfully normal again.
Izuku has already left to chase after Ochaco. Katsuki gets to go home with one less friend to lash out on and half a heart.
âLater, man,â Kirishima says to a far away Izuku raising a hand.
Katsuki barely listens while waving him off with a lazy flick of his hand.
Then he sees you. And every thought in his head immediately cuts clean in half.
Youâre standing beside his car. leaning against it casually. Not waiting in some cinematic pose.
Just there.
Hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket while cool garage lighting spills softly across your face. You look tired now. More tired than you did at dinner. Hair slightly messy. Faint smudges of eyeliner still near the corners of your eyes.
Real. Thatâs the first thing that hits him. Just you. Waiting for him.
Kirishima notices you first from the whole group.
âOh, hi.â
Mina stops talking.
Denkiâs eyes widen slightly before darting rapidly between both of you like he accidentally walked into live explosives.
Katsukiâs pulse kicks hard once against his ribs and his neck.
You look at him quietly before speaking.
ââŚCan we talk?â
Simple words. Calm voice. And somehow they hit harder than that joke of an argument earlier.
Nobody moves for about two seconds. Then Katsuki clicks his tongue sharply without taking his eyes off you.
The concern. The donât blow this up worse look sitting all over his face.
âTch,â Katsuki mutters. âIâm not gonna start shit in a parking garage.â
âThatâs not super reassuring when you phrase it like that,â Mina says.
You huff out the faintest breath beside the carâalmost a laugh.
The sound catches Katsuki off guard badly enough that his eyes flick toward you automatically. Because he forgot for a second what it sounded like when your amusement wasnât forced. Heâs forgotten what it was like when he used to make you laugh, being so caught up in the destruction of it all.
Kirishima notices too. Something in his expression softens before he finally sighs heavily and throws his hands up. âAlright, alright. Weâre leaving.â
âBut if either of you commits emotional crimes,â Mina warns dramatically while walking backward toward the elevator, âIâm intervening.â
âYou say that like youâre emotionally qualified to help anybody,â Katsuki shoots back automatically. âOr like you have to wait around here.â
âSee? This is why therapy should be mandatory for heroes!â
The elevator doors of the garage close over the sound of Denki cackling.
And then theyâre gone.
Silence settles almost immediately afterward. Not awkward exactly.
The parking structure hums quietly around you both, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead while distant traffic echoes faintly from outside. Somewhere farther down the level, water drips steadily from a pipe into concrete.
Katsuki shoves one hand into his pocket to stop himself from fidgeting.
You still havenât moved from beside his car.
Up close now, he notices the exhaustion sitting beneath your eyes properly. The careful composure from dinner looks thinner somehow. Like tonight finally wore through it.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Thenâ
âYou really think I hate you?â you ask quietly.
The question lands so directly he almost flinches.
Katsukiâs jaw tightens automatically. âYou ignored me for four fuckinâ hours.â
âI ignored you because I was trying not to ruin my own night.â
That catches him off guard enough to shut him up briefly.
You look away first, arms folding tighter across yourself.
âI spent three years trying to get over you,â you admit quietly. âDo you understand how humiliating it is that seeing you again almost reset all of it instantly?â
Katsuki feels something sharp twist low in his chest.
Because your voice still doesn't sound angry. It sounds like youâre simple frustrated with yourself.
âI didnât know what version of you was gonna walk into that restaurant tonight,â you continue. âAnd honestly? I was scared that if I talked to you normally for even five minutes, Iâd forget why we broke up in the first place.â
The parking garage suddenly feels too small, too warm. Katsuki stares at you, heartbeat starting to thud harder beneath his ribs again in a way that has nothing to do with fighting anymore. He starts thinking of every single moment today where his thoughts remained the same as yours.
You laugh softly then, but thereâs no humor in it.
âAnd the worst part is,â you murmur, eyes dropping briefly toward the concrete floor, âI still wanted you to come sit next to me. I keep thinking I want the goodbye kiss that I never got. I can never fully leave you behind and I think itâs just because I donât want to. Last year when you messaged me, I found myself excited at the thought of us getting back together.
The words hit him harder than any fight tonight did.
Just honest enough to split something open clean down the middle.
Katsuki stares at you like he genuinely forgot how to move for a second. Because heâd prepared himself for anger; âresentment, perhaps. Even the mischellanious instant where youâd be maybe telling him you moved on and he was pathetic for still carrying pieces of this -you- around like shrapnel under his skin.
He didnât prepare himself himself for this right now in any of his overthinking scenarios.
You standing in front of him at nearly two two in the morning, exhausted and vulnerable and still admitting you wanted him back once too. The million dollar question is: do you still?
The fluorescent lights of the parking lot above you the two of you flicker faintly. Somewhere deeper in the garage, a car alarm chirps once before falling silent againâKatsuki barely hears any of it.
âWhen I saw your message,â you continue more quietly, âI remember staring at my phone like an idiot for an hour before answering.â A weak laugh leaves you. âMy friend literally had to pry it out of my hands because I kept rereading it.â
His chest tightens painfully.
Because he remembers sending that message.
Sitting alone in his apartment after patrol with alcohol burning down his throat while he typed and deleted different versions of I miss you for nearly twenty minutes before settling on something colder instead. Something easier.
âWhy would you fucking unblock me?â
Pathetic.
âYou sounded angry,â you admit softly. âBut I still kept hoping maybe underneath it⌠maybe you missed me enough to try again.â
Katsuki looks away sharply, jaw flexing hard.
He did.
Thatâs the worst fucking part.
He remembers pacing around his kitchen waiting for your replies like his life depended on them. Remembers the stupid spike of hope every time his phone buzzed. Remembers ruining the entire conversation because the second things started feeling vulnerable again, panic crawled viciously straight up his spine and turned everything mean.
Same old him as always.
âYou told me I never changed,â he mutters roughly.
Your expression shifts slightly at that. Not regret exactly. Something sadder.
âBecause you hadnât.â
The honesty stings immediately because part of him knows youâre right. Back then heâd still been treating love like a fight he needed to win before somebody could abandon him first. Katsuki drags a hand hard down his face before laughing once under his breath. Bitter. Exhausted.
âYeah,â he mutters. âProbably deserved that one.â
Silence settles again after that. Raw, void of the hostility every other silence between you tonight. However, this time, the hostility of any previous silence between you tonight, is missing. Everything is raw and open like an oozing, fresh wound.
Had that been the case, heâd known better of.
Youâre still standing near his car with your arms folded tightly across yourself like youâre physically holding your own chest together. Katsuki notices your fingers trembling slightly against your sleeves.
Youâre nervous.
That realization hits unexpectedly hard too. Because he also forgot what it felt like knowing he could still affect you like this.
âI hated you for a while,â you admit suddenly, voice quieter now. âOrâI tried to, at least, at least.â You shake your head faintly. âI wanted to, anyway. It wouldâve made moving on easier.â
Katsuki doesnât interrupt.
Doesnât trust himself to.
âBut then stupid things kept happening,â you continue, eyes unfocused now like youâre talking more to yourself than him. âIâd hear someone laugh like you at work and my whole day would get weird after. Or somebody would burn coffee and suddenly Iâd remember your apartment.â Another soft, embarrassed laugh. âThereâs this hero overseas that yells exactly like you during meetings. I almost walked out the first time because I started tearing up.â
Something dangerously warm starts spreading low in Katsukiâs chest.
Not ego. Not satisfaction.
Something worseâHope.
Small and so fragile and so, so terrifying. and plainlyâ
You finally look back up at him then, expression open in a way he hasnât seen in years.
âAnd honestly?â you say quietly, âI think part of me kept waiting for you to come after me.â
That one nearly knocks the air clean out of him.
Because he wanted to.
God, he wanted to.
He remembers standing in airports during patrol assignments wondering what country you were in. Remembers opening your chat box dozens of timesâ knowing which one it was simply by how many weeks ago was your last conversationâ just to close it again before typing anything. Remembers seeing your name finally appear in his Instagram chat box instead of âUserâ and feeling his stomach drop so hard he had to sit down.
But wanting something and knowing how to hold onto it were always two different things for him.
Katsuki swallows hard before speaking.
âYou said you wished you never met me.â
Your face changes instantly. Pain flickers there, between your worried brows so quickly he almost misses it.
âI know.â
âYou meant it?â
âNo,â you answer immediately.
Too fast for it to not be honest. Katsuki would crack up a cocky smile if the sound of its admission didnât hook directly beneath his ribs.
You inhale shakily afterward, eyes dropping again.
âI said it because I wanted to hurt you back,â you admit. âAnd because youâd just spent an hour making me feel stupid and calling me a liar for telling you i loved you.â
The words land heavy between you both. Katsuki feels nausea twist unpleasantly in his stomach because he remembers that night perfectly now more than any other time.
Not just the fight.
Your face.
The way you looked at him like you were begging him to give you one reason to stay softer with each other instead of turning everything into a bloodbath.
And he had spectacularly failed, spectacularly.
âYou really thought I didnât love you?â you ask suddenly, quieter now.
And since the answer to your question is humiliating, Katsukiâs throat feels tight.
ââŚYeah.â
You stare at him for a long moment after that. Then you laugh again, but this time it sounds closer to heartbreak.
âKatsuki,â you whisper softly, âI moved across the world and still couldnât stop loving you properly.â
That one hurts.
Not in a bad way.
Worse.
Because suddenly all three years between you feel unbearably visible at once. Every missed call never made. Every airport not boarded. Every message typed and deleted. Every lonely apartment. Every night spent pretending this wasnât still sitting unfinished between you both. It never actually had to be that way.Â
Katsuki looks at you standing there beneath harsh garage lighting with tired eyes and shaky hands and too much honesty spilling out at once and realizes, with horrifying clarity, that if you were to claim your goodbye kiss; if you so as kissed him right now, he genuinely doesnât think heâd survive it quietly.
Neither of you says anything for a while after that.
The parking garage hums quietly around you, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead in uneven intervals while rainwater drips somewhere deeper in the structure with slow, hollow echoes. The city outside has started slipping into that strange hour between night and morning where everything feels softer around the edges. Traffic is thinner now. The distant sounds of Musutafu blur together into something low and tired beneath the concrete silence.
Katsuki can hear your breathing.
Not because the garage is particularly quiet, but because heâs standing too close to you again after three years and his body keeps locking onto every tiny thing automatically.
The way your shoulders rise slightly every time you inhale. The faint tremble still lingering in your fingers. The exhaustion sitting beneath your eyes.
You look nothing like the polished, untouchable version of yourself he built up in his head over the past few years. Standing here now, you just look human again.
Real enough to ache over.
To you⌠Does he look that way too?
âLetâs go, Iâll take you home.â Katsuki shifts his weight once before dragging a hand through his hair roughly. âWe should probably get outta here before Mina decides to come back and interrogate us.â
The corner of your mouth twitches faintly. âThat implies she never actually left.â
âSheâs probably hiding behind a concrete pillar right now.â
âShe absolutely is.â
The tiny bit of shared amusement loosens something dangerously fragile between you both.
Katsuki unlocks the car with a sharp click of the key fob. Then you glance toward the passenger side before looking back at him again, uncertainty flickering briefly across your expression like youâre second-guessing whether this is a good idea.
Honestly, heâs wondering the same thing.
Because every second around you tonight has felt like standing near something unstable with no self-control left to keep his hands off it.
Still, he opens the passenger door for you anyway.
You hesitate only a second before climbing inside.
The interior of the car smells faintly like leather, rain, and burnt caramel coffee from whatever drive-through Kirishima dragged him through earlier this week. Soft dashboard lights glow low against the dark while droplets of rain slide slowly down the windshield overhead. The city reflects across the glass in blurred streaks of neon and gold.
Katsuki rounds the front of the car slowly, pulse thudding heavier with every step.
By the time he slides into the driverâs seat, the air inside already feels too warm.
Youâre sitting angled slightly toward the window, arms folded loosely across yourself while the glow from passing streetlights softens the side of your face. Your makeupâs mostly worn off by now. Thereâs still a faint smear of eyeliner and mascara at the corner of your eye.
He has to physically stop himself from reaching over to wipe it away.
Silence settles again, but itâs different inside the car.
The enclosed space presses everything tighter together until even breathing feels too noticeable.
Katsuki rests one hand against the steering wheel without starting the engine. âSo what now?â
You let out a quiet breath through your nose before leaning your head back against the seat. âI donât know.â you sigh âI didnât really think this far ahead.â
âYeah,â he mutters. âMe neither.â
Rain starts tapping lightly against concrete again. Thin at first. Then steadier.
Your eyes drift toward the sound automatically. âIt always rains when we talk about serious shit.â
Katsuki snorts softly before he can stop himself. âThatâs because you always picked fights during storms.â
âI did not.â
âYou absolutely did.â
A small laugh escapes you then, quieter than before but real enough that something in his chest twists painfully around it. God, he missed that sound. Missed sitting beside you while conversations slipped this easily between silence and teasing without either of you forcing it.
A newer realization scares him a little; It would be so easy to fall right back into this. Too easy.
You turn toward him slightly then, knees shifting against the seat. âCan I ask you something?â
âTch. You usually do anyway.â
Your eyes narrow faintly at the automatic attitude, but thereâs no real heat behind it now. âWhy didnât you come after me?â
The question settles heavily into the space between you both.
Katsukiâs jaw tightens immediately.
Outside, headlights slide briefly across the windshield before disappearing down the garage ramp. He watches the reflections fade instead of looking directly at you.
âDidnât think you wanted me to.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
Of course it isnât.
You were always annoyingly good at pulling honesty out of him even when he fought it.
Katsuki exhales slowly through his nose before speaking. âBecause I thought if I showed up and you looked happier without meâŚâ He laughs once under his breath, rough and humorless. âDidnât think I could handle that. Itâd just fucking prove iâm hard to love and youâre better without me.â
The space between you afterward feels fragile.
When he finally looks over, your expression has softened into something unbearably tender.
Fuck, fuckâFuck.
âYouâre an idiot,â you murmur quietly.
Thereâs no cruelty in it. Maybe a tad of acceptance. A smear of sadness.
Your eyes flick downward briefly then back to his face, and suddenly Katsuki becomes painfully aware of how close youâre sitting. The center console feels too small now. The air feels thick with old history and exhaustion and everything neither of you managed to bury properly.
His gaze drops to your mouth before he can stop it.
He notices immediately when your breathing changes.
Slight.
Barely there.
But enough.
The tension inside the car shifts all at once after that.
Not explosive and immediate, like heâs used to. Itâs slow and dangerous. Like something pulling tighter inch by inch.
Katsukiâs fingers flex once against the steering wheel. âTell me to stop looking at you like that.â
Your throat moves subtly when you swallow.
âYou first.â
Fuck. Shit!
The flirtiness in your tone hits him hard enough to feel somewhere low in his stomach.
Rain streaks slower down the windshield now, blurring neon lights outside into smeared ribbons of color while the heater hums faintly beneath the dashboard. The whole car feels suspended outside time somehow. Separate from the rest of the city. With nothing left to do but park at the side of the road, Katsuki swerves the steering wheel towards his new direction.
When he shuts off the engine, youâre the one who moves first.
Barely.
Just enough to lean a little closer and more tentative toward him. Youâre giving him room to pull away if he wants to.
Katsuki doesnât. Neither pull away, nor want to.
His hand reaches for your face almost automatically, rough palm settling carefully against your jaw like muscle memory never left him at all. The contact pulls a shaky breath from you instantly, and that sound alone nearly destroys whatever restraint he still has left.
He kisses you before he can think too hard about it.
And it feels exactly like coming home to something he convinced himself no longer existed.
Warm.
Familiar.
Devastating.
You make this tiny broken noise against his mouth the second the kiss lands properly, fingers grabbing instinctively at the front of his shirt like you need something solid to hold onto. Katsuki feels his entire chest cave inward around the feeling of you kissing him back just as desperately. His lips ache with buzzing numbness and he tries his very best to even remember the steps to a kiss heâs trained to fit perfectly into.
Three years of missing each other crashes together all at once inside that kiss.
His other hand slides against your waist, pulling you closer over the center console while rain drums steadily overhead. Your lips part against his almost immediately, breath shaky and uneven as the kiss deepens into something messier. Hungrier.
Katsuki kisses like heâs starving.
Always has.
Like every emotion he doesnât know how to say properly gets forced violently through his hands and mouth instead.
You remember that instantly.
He feels it in the way your fingers tighten against him. The way your breathing starts breaking apart every time he kisses you harder. The way you lean into him like you missed this just as badly as he did.
When you finally pull back for air, neither of you gets very far.
Your forehead rests shakily against his while both of you breathe the same recycled air inside the dark car. Katsukiâs hand is still cupping your jaw. Your fingers are still twisted tightly into his shirt.
With one swift movement, Katsukiâs hand forces your jaw right into his, your lips slamming against each other's once again.
The kiss turns rough immediately.
Not careless âNever careless with you.
Katsukiâs just overwhelmed by the sheer force of finally having you this close again after years spent trying to convince himself he could survive without it.
Your breath catches sharply against his mouth when he kisses you deeper this time, fingers twisting harder into the front of his shirt while the center console digs awkwardly against your hip from how far youâve leaned toward him. Rain continues sliding steadily down the windshield outside, blurring neon lights into streaks of gold and red across the dark interior of the car.
Katsuki barely notices any of it anymore.
All he can focus on is you.
The warmth of your mouth.
The familiar way you melt and tense at the same time whenever he kisses you too hard.
The shaky inhale you keep failing to steady every time his thumb brushes beneath your jaw.
His chest feels unbearably tight.
Because this isnât nostalgia anymore.
It isnât just memory. Youâre actually here. Actually kissing him back with enough desperation that it almost hurts.
A strained sound escapes him before he can stop it, muffled against your lips while he pulls you even closer over the console. His hand slips from your jaw into your hair, fingers curling carefully at the base of your neck like he physically cannot stand another inch of distance between you both.
You break the kiss first this time, but only barely. Only enough for more air.
Your lips still brush his when you speak.
âKatsukiââ
His name falls apart halfway through your breath, soft enough that he nearly loses whatever remains of his self-control entirely.
Because you still say his name the same way.
But now he knows it means something. He can accept it means something.
Katsukiâs forehead presses hard against yours while he tries and fails to regulate his breathing. The inside of the car suddenly feels too hot, thick with condensation and recycled air and of unresolved feelings collapsing violently into each other all at once.
âYou gotta stop lookinâ at me like that,â he mutters hoarsely.
Your brows pull together faintly. âLike what?â
âLike you and i willââ He cuts himself off immediately, jaw tightening hard enough to ache.
The words refuse to come out cleanly.
You stare at him for a second too long after that, your expression softening into something that almost looks painful.
âKatsuki,â you whisper quietly, âI literally just told you I couldnât move on.â
Yeah. He knows.
And somehow hearing it still doesnât feel real.
âBut if we yâknowânow,â he coughs âmaybe youâll regret it.â
His eyes search your face automatically like heâs trying to find evidence that this is temporary. That youâll wake up tomorrow and realize kissing him again was a mistake. That eventually youâll remember all the reasons loving him became unbearable in the first place.
The fear must show somewhere across his expression because your hand suddenly lifts toward his face.
Your fingertips brush against the side of his jaw where the faint razor burn still sits from earlier tonight, and the tenderness behind the touch nearly destroys him more effectively than the kissing did.
âKatsuki, are you talking about sex?â you murmur softly, whispering the last word extensively.Â
A weak huff of laughter leaves him despite himself. His lower lip pouts out.
âYou always get this line between your eyebrows whenever you get shy like this.â
Your thumb smooths unconsciously against the spot moments later like muscle memory. Katsuki feels his stomach twist painfully around the familiarity of it.
God.
He missed this.
Not even the kissing specifically. Not even the sex. (And heâs missed these two plenty)
Just this.
You knowing him so instinctively that his body reacts before his brain catches up.
âI wouldnât regret it. Iâve wanted it so much even though I was convinced itâd never happen again. I canât regret doing something that I want to do.â
Your words settle heavy enough in his chest that suddenly he needs to kiss you again before he says something humiliating.
His mouth crashes back against yours harder this time.
You make another soft noise into the kiss immediately, one that sounds dangerously close to heartbreak, and Katsuki swears he feels the sound straight through his ribs. His hand tightens carefully at the back of your neck while your fingers slide upward into his hair, slightly damp strands catching between your knuckles.
The angle is awkward across the center console.
Neither of you cares.
Your knee bumps clumsily against the gear shift while Katsuki leans further toward you, broad shoulders pressing you deeper into the passenger seat unintentionally from the sheer force of how badly heâs kissing you now. Every breath between you feels uneven. Messy. Shared.
Three years disappears frighteningly fast like this. Just temporarily drowned beneath the overwhelming relief of finally touching each other again.
Katsuki feels your hand trembling slightly where it cups the side of his face.
The realization makes him pull back barely enough to look at you.
Your lips are swollen now. Eyes glassy beneath the dashboard glow while your breathing comes apart in shallow bursts that mirror his almost exactly. Then your expression shifts suddenly, something vulnerable flickering across it fast enough to make his chest tighten again.
âWhat if we do this again?â you ask quietly. âWhat if we try again and it ruins us worse this time?â
The question lands hard because itâs real. Not dramatic or hypothetical. Youâre genuinely afraid. Because itâs been over three years since youâve kissed, even more since you were intimate with each other, since you held an actual conversation.
And honestly? So is he.
Katsuki stares at you in the dim car lighting while rain taps softly overhead, your fingers still resting against his jaw like youâre scared to let go completely.
Then, slowly, he turns his head just enough to press a kiss against the center of your palm,vermillion eyes locked in yours..
The gesture feels strangely vulnerable coming from him.
âI think,â he says roughly afterward, eyes still fixed on yours, too sceptical, âit already ruined us the first time.â His thumb brushes carefully against your waist, then, sensually across your ribs âDidnât stop either of us from wanting it again.â
It feels strangely fragile now that the adrenaline of finally kissing each other has settled slightly. Not awkward exactly. Just painfully real in a way neither of you can hide from anymore.Â
Neither of you seems fully willing to let go first.
You look mentally exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and bleeds across the surface of your skin; heart beating fast, eyes wide open and desperate. Katsuki, for worse luck despite it all, probably looks the same.
Your eyes drift downward briefly before you let out a small breath through your nose. âThis is probably a terrible idea.â
Katsuki huffs quietly. âYeah.â
âBut I really donât care right now.â you admit âdo you?â
âHell nah!â
Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2026. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
horny y/n jumping on bkg even though heâs exhausted from work and still helps her đ¤¤
i love goofy ideas like these. u WIN
you were the brave one today. working from home⌠all alone⌠unable to adjust to your lover not being around⌠even if he was at work and you planned for this weekday to be at home. especially when you heard him let himself into your apartment while you had to finish up a work call. it was the hastiest, a borderline unprofessional goodbye how you rushed to end the call because he was here finally.
you only saw him a few days ago after all.
stepping into your living room, bakugou katsuki is hard to miss. massive body sitting in the centre of your sofa, heâs got his head in his hands, elbows on his knees in silence, sporting a black hoodie and shorts.
âyou okay?â you ask, practically floating to stand in front of him, tugging his hand so he can uncover his face for you.
when he pulls away, looking up at you, your heart drops to your clit. in sickness or health, whatever words youâll be saying on your wedding day to this man⌠well, you get it now.
katsuki meets your eyes with these droopy ones, cushioned with two dark bags underneath them. to anyone else it looks like heâs gonna curse you out any second, his eyes are practically slits but you can note, itâs just tiredness, especially when he leans his head into your palm.
his posture is slouched, body completely and utterly exhausted. this pro hero, one of the best in the world, needs to be on at all times, ready for anything but you, you get the privilege of seeing him off. ready for bed and a hot shower.
katsuki rests his cheek in your palm, those angry ruby gems becoming puppy like, ââm fine.â
next, his hands hold onto the backs of your thighs keeping you still so he can press his face into your stomach. you feel his whole body sigh into you.
âyou donât look it. you look like shit,â you offer and you get two bouncing shoulders in a short laugh.
âyâgot a lisp now? you mean sexy?â he muffles into your stomach, then presses his chin into you so he can look at you properly.
you smooth down his eyebrows with your thumbs. you notice a touch of hoarseness in his words. you press your thighs together.
your smile is apparent in your voice, âyouâve got this defeated look going on.â you bite down on your bottom lip, âit is a little sexy. maybe a lot.â
bakugou thinks heâs in with the joke at the beginning, till you shuffle in closer to him, the press of your hand on his cheek gets harder and he notices the change of pitch in your breath. even the black of your pupils widen, he sees this in real time. youâre not joking at all actually.
that gets him sitting up slightly, a smirk falling on his features. you pout when he does, staring at his lips like a wife separated from their husband for years. he knows his smile is a killer for you, a soft sigh leaving you at the sight of his gold canine and white teeth.
âgimme a kiss,â he demands and the good listener you are, you lean down to press yours against his.
itâs family friendly for the most part, three pecks until his pawlike hands sneak up your thighs to under your ass cheeks.
when you both pull away, youâre staring at each other for a few seconds until you lick your thumb and rub under his eyebrow.
âyou didnât get all your eye stuff off,â you whisper, referring to his eye makeup he likes to put on under his mask.
bakugou grunts in response, letting you clean up the left over marks he didnât scrub.
âhow long have you been waitinâ for me?â
always so perceptive. it makes your eyes widen like youâve been caught out. âwell iâve been workingâ,â
âbaby,â he soothes, in that soft way like youâve done something silly and you wonât get in trouble for admitting whatever it is. even though he already knows.
âsince the morning,â you breathe, eager to undress on the spot, to get his hands on your bare skin, to jump on his lap and pull down his shorts.
but the exhaustion is still apparent on his body. his movements are noticeably slower now that he can let his guard down.
âhm,â he replies and you run your fingers through his hair, pushing all his blonde locks back to reveal his face. your boyfriend is incredibly handsome. you press an extra kiss to the scar on his cheek and bakugou pulls you in. your knees sink into the sofa as you straddle his lap.
hot hands that were under your ass, sneak under your blouse. theyâre like a relief patch, causing your skin to buzz in anticipation.
âwhat dâyou want?â he hums and youâre already ready for your body to bounce on something, fingers twitching as they rest on his shoulders.
âkatsuki,â you whine, rubbing your nose against his. his eyelashes brush against yours. âdonât ask me that.â
nimble fingers shift to the little buttons at your blouse. bakugou works on you while youâre fighting your own internal battle.
âwhy not, baby?â
âyouâre tired from saving the city. iâm not going to make you have sex with me because iâm horny.â
bakugou rolls his eyes, completely humoured by the way you let him shimmy you out of your blouse, now sitting on him in your pretty lace balconette bra. he kisses the softness of your breast and youâre completely reactive, arching your back into his face.
âyâthink i donât wanna love you?â
the wording makes you mewl, hugging katsukiâs big head to your chest. your body blushes with heat, unable to look him in the eye, âdonât be adorable when i want you to put me in doggy.â
bakugou chuckles, âon your knees. let me do it.â
âdidnât you have a long day today?â
he looks you in the eye, âthe fuckinâ longest. sixteen hours, everyone was on my ass.â
âthen you need to sleep.â
âor i can have sex with my girlfriend.â
you have the audacity to look shy, knowing thereâs a damp patch if he checked your panties right now. âbut youâre exhausted.â
âbabygirl.â
âbabyboy.â
bakugou raises his eyebrows, âthatâs new. i dunno if i like that.â
you shuffle on his lap, your crotch right over his. youâre delighted to find heâs sporting a semi, in fact, it makes you want to rabidly rub yourself over him like an animal in heat.
you kiss the corner of his jaw, tugging the neckline of his hoodie so you have space to kiss his neck. bakugouâs eyes flutter shut in response, hands on your bare waist.
âyouâre my baby and youâre my boy.â
bakugou tuts, grabbing the back of his hoodie and tugging it over his head. heâs got nothing on underneath it to your joy, leaving his bare chest on display for you. you lowly moan at the sight of his biceps, the scars that run through them, the discoloured skin that merges with his blushed skin. one hand on you, another giving his toned abdomen a necessary rub.
âiâm your man.â
âfuck,â you whisper, standing up to pull off your leggings and sitting back on his lap like you never left. âand youâre sure? not too tired?â
heâs uncouth when he hooks a finger in your underwear, then runs the pad of his thumb to gather your wetness over your clit. your body slumps into him, giving bakugou all your weight for him to hold up.
âyou underestimate how easy it is for me to get you to come.â he smirks, chuffed at himself for how well he knows you. âcould do this half asleep. i have done this half asleep.â
referring to the four am sex you had a few days ago when you came all over his fingers with his tongue in your throat. eyes closed and half conscious.
âdonât be so cocky,â you moan for the wrong reasons, loving the slow comfortable pace of his thumb. pleasure rolls through your body softly, your hands mindlessly palming him.
âtake him out then.â
âdonât him your dick.â
but still you do, yanking down his shorts and feeling the saliva build in your mouth at the feeling then sight. his adonis belt, deep ridges and harsh muscle. then him, thick and heavy. his cute red tip with veins running up the length of him.
âyou love it.â
youâre nodding without realising, placing your palm on the scar on the centre of your boyfriendâs chest.
âfuck me,â you whine, sitting on your knees and shuffling to adjust to sit on his cock. âwanna feel you, âtsuki.â
though he stops you, hands on your hips.
âon your hand and knees, babygirl. like you want.â
hi everyone! i'm coming on here to say my life has taken a toll for the worst, and I'm currently living in a shed. aka homeless. as well as jobless, i was living up in texas with a full time job, but unfortunately none of that money is saved as it was only for a few months and my sister took everything I made. as well as allowed her husband to try and hit me, verbally abuse me, and overall treat me disgusting. she forced all her responsibilities onto me, as making me care for her child in the process. and because I was so tired from working 8-10 hours every day upon walking an hour to work as well, and coming home and cleaning the rest of the day, i was kicked out. so I'm now back in my home state. and once again struggling, i still can't drive as i came from a abusive family who wouldn't teach me, and where her husband was supposed to help me he never did, all they cared about was my money and for me to do their jobs for them as they sat on their asses. trying to talk about this situation in a mature way with out saying how disgusting and vile they absolutely are.
anyways with that out there, my commissions are open and these are emergency commissions so i can buy food for myself and my mom as she's homeless with me, finding a job is very difficult right now and this is my only means of income.
if you don't want a commission, but just want to help out then i'll link my venmo - linked here
prices! are starting out at $10 per every 1k words (prices are negotiable but pls no lowballs!)
I will write for anything NO JUDGEMENT HERE whatsoever!!
some examples of commissions I've done
oc x canon from different fandoms
omegaverse homer oddysey character x character 100k fic
x reader fics
all including smut! (if smut isn't your thing i can totally do fluff! or vice versa I'm skilled in all!)
WHERE TO FIND MY WORK
masterlist - on my blog aka tumblr
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I will research any topic, any fandom that you're needing me too!
I am accepting payment through venmo, (primarily) but will also do cashapp and paypal if needed! and if none of those work, doordash gift cards are always welcomed.
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AGAIN i write for anything and any length THANK YOU (anything helps seriously!!).. also will write english essays, or any essays + poems !!
đ shigaraki tomura being turned on by your smile đ cws: 18 +, nsfw, smutty daydreaming, simp behavior
can't stop thinking about how distracted shigaraki would be whenever you're in the room.
like he can't stop himself from following your every move. it isn't until dabi points out his staring problem that he tries to stop, but by then it's too late. at that point, everyone in the league is giving him shit, and they're giving him shit about one specific thing: that he's hooked on your smile and he won't admit it.
you're gorgeous like that, smile wide and goofy on your face, and tomura is immediately, mortifyingly, turned on by it.
the first time he pops a boner, you're literally giggling next to him because of some shit toga said, and he has to duck out to jerk off in a grimy hallway, whole face flushed pink as he thinks about the smile he could get you to make riding his dick and clenching around him, an ecstasy he wants to etch onto your skin.
the second time is worse than the first because he dreams of you, a sure sign that you're buried deep in his psyche and he's never getting you out.
in the dream, you're waking up beside him, face soft with sleep and a blissed-out smile on your lips as you roll into his side, "need you, tomu," you say, and your voice is low and warm, and when your hands trail down his chest, he feels the touch all the way in his skull - "need you to fill me up, baby, please - " and he wakes up humping a pillow, the front of his boxers soaked in cum.
the third time, you're on a mission together that could only have been arranged through dabi and toga's meddling, and tomura gathers the courage to just talk to you like a person with a crush, and you reward him with a smile he's never seen before.
it's fond, intimate. seeing it directed at him feels like pressing on a bruise; he simultaneously wants to press harder and pull away.
he kisses you hesitantly, inexpertly, but you respond with an enthusiasm he can't help but drink up, fitting yourself into his lap and grinding down onto him, laugh glorious and triumphant when you feel how hard he is.
"you're so cute, tomu," you tell him, and then the night dissolves into something he couldn't even have concocted in his head.
from that point on, his staring problem only gets worse.
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đ YOU AIN'T MY BOYFRIEND âŠÂ katsuki bakugou .á
đ pit stop ! 𦹠you think that katsuki bakugou cares too much. he obsesses over the little things. whether or not you've eaten, whether or not you're seeing someone else, whether or not you even like him. you can't understand why he cares so much about someone like you. after all, he isn't even your boyfriend. (6.2K)
đ safety car ! â not safe for work â suggestive & angst â eighteen plus only. pro hero au, characters are depicted as adults. friends with benefits, brief smut scenes, daddy kink mention, situationships, insecurity, simp katsuki, avoidant attachment styles, reader and katsuki are bad at feelings, unhappy ending, open ending. pro hero katsuki bakugou, toxic avoidant & fem reader.
đ team radio ! â happy birthday to me!! sharing another fic for my bday bc it is my gift to you!! for all the memories n the love n awl!! this year its blasty boy, based on this post i made ages ago. been workin on this for a while and it felt so good to explore katsuki in this way!! there may be a part two lol. thank you so much as always! hope you all enjoy and click for more.Â
ââ Š tteokdoroki âąÂ 2026.
bakugou has always been good at sensing oncoming danger. no, he didnât have a quirk for it and no, he didnât have to train at it. heâs always just had a penchant for knowing when peril was prowling along the horizon, he thought quick on his feet and under pressure, his instincts were killer. thereâs a reason why heâs the best at what he does. saving people, stopping threats.Â
but then, thereâs you.Â
theyâd call you a hero level threat if they knew you, a little more then personally. an enigma that sucks the good-hearted nature out of someone and turns them into something hollow. a villain by matters of the heart rather than that of society â although a string of failed relationships and an obvious lack of commitment would argue otherwise. katsuki never sees it coming, the fatal blow you land on him, the one that shatters his very vision of how love works.Â
he doesnât expect to meet you through a friend of a friend and hit it off straight away, his walls crumbling down as if they were made from nothing but sand. a somber stooge to thrashing imperial shaded waves and saltine sea water. he doesnât anticipate falling fast, hard enough to scrape his knees on shingly tarmac. abrasive on the palms of his hands. all this, even though dynamight has never tripped or lost his cool before.
youâre disarmingly funny, smart-mouthed when it counts but youâre dedicated to your craft and fiercely loyal to the people you care about. by all means, youâre the girl of his dreams, thereâs not a day that goes by where youâre not the first thing on his mind after a gruelling patrol and meetings with the hero commission.Â
katsuki seeks you out like a blossom winding up to find the sun, desperate to spend free time with you â dates that arenât really dates in places hidden away from prying public eyes. late nights that lead to your legs tangled at the short end of his couch, your cheek smooshed into his chest and a hand low the small of your back. heaviness there that doesnât seem burdensome, natural.
the two of you are too far into the comfort zone after such a short time, he doesnât even pick up on the blaring warning signs. the dating app notifications that still pop up on your phone, the way your head dips when he leans in a little too close to kiss you.Â
he doesnât see it clearly enough, the dangerous thorns that wrap around you like the stems of a blood red rose. his friends know better, youâre the type of girl who drank the blood of her enemies and ate the bones of her past lovers, stripping them bare like a carcass lost in the wastelands. they know the map of bakugouâs being well, the subtle craving for attachment and endearment that lies behind walls of flesh, muscle and a hardened exterior made up of a bit of trauma with a dash of near death. for all his gruffness and grandeur, there is a human within katsuki bakugou. one who carnally craves the simple promise of forever with someone else.Â
those friends who pledge a lifetime by katsukiâs side arenât enough to satisfy his appetite and yearning inner-ego, they know that, but still â they look out for him.Â
âoh, relationships? i donât do those.â youâd laughed, then, waving a hand dismissively when mina corners you on the way into the dynamight agency. a favour. a good friend willing to ask what the other canât.Â
her shoulders had risen in anxiety, treading carefully as the pink haired pro prodded and pried. âthen what about katsuki?â
âwhat about him?â you quipped, tone clipped, unwilling to fall open to her investigation. katsukiâs friends werenât yours by any means â you were new, fresh meat in their eyes that had somehow withstood of concerned childhood classmates. âweâre not dating. just messing around?â
minaâs expression soured then. âdoes he know that?âÂ
âhe should. heâs a grown man, iâm sure he knows what kind of relationship he can handle.âÂ
âa situationship.âÂ
âa friendship that comes with added benefits.â he recalls you supplying. quick to the punch and cold like ice.
katsuki stays long enough to hear mina give you the low down. katsuki bakugou doesnât do casual, he doesnât mess around â his heart only goes out to some and when itâs yours, youâre supposed to take care of it. mina gives you the chance to walk away, leave him be and you fail to take it. with that minacious sense of esurience you possess.
the first time you sleep together happens after your first fight. he wants something you canât give him, permanence, the sturdiness that reminds one of an oak tree thatâs grown proud and tall over time. katsuki wants something that lasts and his heart is set on you â someone who disappears into the rolling smoke and only exists for a split second, a momentary fraction of time like when the sun and moon meet for an eclipse. youâre evanescent, almost imaginary, fleeting like a nomad who never stays for too long.
he canât have you. not in the way that he needs to feel stabilised.Â
everything blows up, when you tell him that. sitting on the other side of the bed, wearing his clothes, comfortable in his penthouse where your shoes ( an impressive collection of sneakers to high heels ) are lined up by the door and youâve got a favourite mug on the top shelf of his kitchen cabinets where only he can reach. thereâs a piece of you everywhere in bakugouâs home but not a single piece you can part with long enough for him to call you his own. the fight is full of rage and pent up frustration and a hurt thatâs nearly incurable â katsuki should have made you leave right then and there, emotions rising like hot air above cool. with tears building behind his red eyes that burn brightly with fury, but he canât because youâre so intertwined with his life, itâd be like having a lung missing if youâd gone.Â
itâs not love, it shouldnât be â but his heart feels anchored to you even if itâs holding you back. you let him say it, that he loves you so much it could kill him in his youthful age. he loves you while pushing into you deep, chest rising and falling in tune with yours, much like a habit youâve picked up from one another. he loves you with your legs hiked high on his shoulders, at the weight of his shaft pressed up against your sensitive walls with his teeth and tongue marking you like you belong to him. the sex that night had felt like a confession, a love letter written in hickies and scratch marks â penned and signed into your body by rough-padded fingertips that find your clit between rolling waves of trusts, hips that hit yours like the turning tide hits the shore. Â
in the moment, you reciprocated. sung his praises kike they were the lyrics to your favourite song, coated in wistfulness. howled his name, katsuki, at the moon whilst the stars bore witness to the union of your souls and your bodies. struck claw marks between the muscles in his back, leaving him with a scar. a heavily ironic reminder of your presence in his life â even if you left him physically, youâd still be there in the root of his heart and in every breath heâd take from then on. he couldnât get rid of you, not that he wanted to, not even if he tried. in every sense of the word â mind, body and soul, katsuki had decided he belonged to you. willed you to understand through every stroke of his cock into you, every gentle kiss that deepened to share hungry moans, every caress over your battle wounds and fatal flaws⌠that he was yours, however you wanted. whatever that looked like. he would take it.Â
in the morning, you were different â colder, sharper, as if the sinful hells from which your desire had risen from, had now frozen over. like the heat and passion youâd shared were nothing but a mutually beneficial exchange. pleasure for pleasure, not to be mistaken for beating hearts coming together as one. in the morning, youâd tossed katsuki aside, smiling sweet, your lips pressed against his cheek, your clothes from the night before wrinkled against your love-bruised frame. âthank you,â he remembers you saying. âsame time next week?âÂ
itâs a joke that lands as a sucker punch. worse than any hit heâs ever taken on the field.Â
despite that, bakugou had never wanted you more. something he couldnât keep. a hurricane in a glass jar that he couldnât contain. free as a bird that could fly away at a moment's notice â too dazed with desire and devotion to see the cruel limbo you were leaving him in. even then heâd have called you the girl of his dreams, perfect in every way except for your knack for avoidance. he should have walked away then.Â
he should walk away now. as his tired, blood red eyes look to you with a rose tinted lens. watching you sleep soundly amongst sheets youâd complain cost more than a monthâs rent and wonât let katsuki buy for your own apartment. still thinking that youâre perfect for him, that you fit right into his world where youâve made him so intrinsically part of your own. thriving in this weird symbiotic relationship where you get your needs taken care of and he gets a taste of what itâs like to be longed for. as more than a hero. as less than dynamight. just katsuki. youâd taken a sledgehammer to the pro heroâs concrete shell and sent his shield packing, now heâs no longer to build up his walls without fear of shutting you out.Â
friends with benefits, lovers but not quite â bakugou doesnât care as long as heâs with you. heâd pick fights for you until he turned black and blue, rescue you from the competition because he knows it means having his way with you afterwards, let you call him your boyfriend high on life and liquor just to piss another man off. now youâre in his shirt, the warm charm of the sun spilling through his curtains to illuminate the soft slopes of your thighs and highlight every perfect imperfection on your skin. the scars you try to hide, the tiger stripes you sometimes let him love.Â
you look softest when youâre asleep, like you wouldnât dare destroy someoneâs self worth and ability to love. you donât look dangerous.Â
he still doesnât believe that you are.
âsuki,â stretching high and wide like a little harmless â maybe even blameless â kitten lounging under the blessing of the afternoon sun. your voice calls to him â wafting through the aerosols that catch light under golden rays. they act as a smog, a performance of smoke and mirrors that hides your true intentions from the blonde. even if he were to wave his hand through the smoggy disguise, katsuki still wouldnât be able to see your desires clearly. âmy head hurts.âÂ
âyeah?â bakugouâs bare chest rises and falls with somewhat of a brusque titter, the sound curling inward like a wisp of smoke caught within his lungs â cemented into their small branches of bronchi. itâs soft, barely noticeable, if you werenât listening. almost as if heâs been trying to keep it a secret from you. as though his fondness were to scare you away. âwant me to kiss it better?â
âmhmâŚâ more of you emerges from cotton hills and stiff peaks of linens â a hand rubbing through the crust corned at your eyes and lips. âgod it kills, what even happened last night?â
even then, despite the sleep caked into your skin and the lines carved out by creases in the sheets struck against your cheeks, disregarding the bitterness to your morning breath and the drool staining the fabric of his your sleep shirt â youâre still the most beautiful person in the world to katsuki bakugou. with all your flaws and icks and green flags he canât help the uptick in his pulse and the pull of gravity that lures him into smiling almost school-girlishly at the sight of you rubbing the ache from your forehead, lost in the waves of his bed spread.
youâre perfect even if you donât know it â some kind of lawless and flawless being that could do no wrong in the jewelled eyes of the beholder.Â
âparty. didnât invite me so i donât know what you had.â
âit was a party, am i not supposed to drink?â a cheshire grin blooms amongst your features and compliments the mirthy spark to your sleepy stare as you reply bluntly. if there was any inclination as to how deeply katsuki feels for you, it would be the way his focus flits away from your eye contact and the manner in which rich red blood pools underneath the surface of his cheeks. a blush that catches sunlight and spreads like a flame over oil slick, creeping down to the back of katsukiâs neck.
he rubs at it â akin to how one would smooth over a scab theyâre not trying to pick in fear of making it bleed â as he speaks. intent and careful. âresponsibly, sure,â heâs already reaching to pull the covers back and welcome you to the land of the living. you hide, pouting like youâve been scolded. âyou were so shitfaced last night, âm surprised you even managed to call me to come pick you up.âÂ
you donât like that. the tenderness that sits between curse words and stretching through the comfortable atmosphere of the late morning. to you, katsuki is scary in the kind of way that reminds you of the buzz you feel after watching a horror movie â electric and alive, all fried nerve endings and an impending sense of doom tickling your chest. maybe itâs because heâs so handsome. in the way that causes trouble with the old ladies on floor thirty four of the apartment building or gets the girls tripping over their kitten heels at the agency. maybe itâs because he leans into this natural duty to protect or nurse strays like you back to health.Â
genuine fear easily takes residence in your being when bakugou cares for you in the ways you feel you donât deserve. itâs small, fleeting â almost like the subtle beat of a butterfly's wings or the tickle of your own hair at the nape of your neck.Â
katsuki isnât someone to be afraid of. heâs not some kind of predator lurking in the dark waiting to turn you into a chunk of meat. his affections lap at you in the same way ocean blue does at a sandy shoreline, in soft waves with bubbling white at the owl waiting to be absorbed into porous substrate. he waits, oh, he waits for you to accept all of him as though he were always meant to be yours.Â
thatâs what frightens you, his gentle dedication. his tired eyes that crystallise when you walk into a room. his heart tattooed in fading ink on his sleeve, waiting for you to take a knife and pierce it with all that youâve got.Â
the thought of accepting his love and returning it had your stomach turning. not because you resent the idea, but because you find yourself warming to it like a steel kettle on a hot stove or a freshly potted sapling winding towards the light in order to grow. itâs as frightening coming face to face with an animal that sees you as nothing more than prey. like a hare standing against a wolf where the odds are hardly in its favour.Â
âitâs too early on in the day for you to parent me katsuki and you sound like my dad,â you bite like a snake that has venom poised behind its teeth, regarding the blonde with devious merriment. âbet you like that though, gets you all riled up telling me what to do. acting like my dad. do you want to be? my daddy, katsuki?â
your banter is usually like this, the kind where the dialect crawls underneath his skin through an open wound and spreads uncomfortably in the form of a viral infection. it sticks meagerly to katsukiâs ego in a similar fashion to a postage stamp placed down wrong â where you canât pick it up by the corner and peel it back, unable to reposition it correctly. in the moment, youâre funny â light on your feet and quick with quips that come easy and arenât supposed to mean anything aside from serving the purpose of laughter. except, when the coals cool and the time passes you leave a sting that creeps up on the victim, dead before they even know it. straight faced by the time the day is over.
âdonât be like that.â he leans over you, wafting notes of clean pine and smoked applewood, sparking your senses awake, and pushes the side of your head playfully. his touch slides down, careful as it goes, before bakugou cups your cheeks and squishes them twice.âbeinâ fuckinâ mean.âÂ
âsorry daddy.â you grin the same as before. with the air of someone who knows exactly who they are and what theyâre doing. youâre a woman whoâs made a vexatious habit out of reading people â katsuki is one of them â scouring their worn, aging pages for something that makes them tick.Â
by now heâs caught on the game that you play, toying with the knotted mess of his feelings like a feline with her bawl of carmine coloured yarn. the iniquitous version of the red string of fate. he returns to his seat at the edge of the bed, turning away before you catch the fall in his face. as though the manner in which icarus flew too close to the sun â only to be scorned â could be captured in his expression, like an artist who carves his wages through stone.
âoh shut up,â bakugou pushes again, no weight behind his hand. controlled because heâs not a man with a temper. the kind you run to when he spends a weekend out of town. ââm not fuckinâ you ân i gotta go to work.âÂ
âthatâs never stopped you before.â you purr, never quite having learned how to be subtle.
hero galas and award-show after parties run rampant through katsukiâs mind â the memories without picture frames because you never stay long enough to keep. alcohol bleeds into the ink, leaving them splotchy where heâd remember the happenings if he were sober. lipstip smudge kiss that taste of plasticky makeup and the bitter pop of champagneÂ
undeterred by your little mind games and the puzzles you make of the pro heroâs patience â he glances over at you, just for a moment. registers the presence of you helpless in his bed and then suppresses a fond smile, poking his tongue into his cheek. âyouâre hungover, thatâll stop me. told you, i care about you.âÂ
thereâs a twang to katsukiâs voice that has always warmed you sweetly. much like honey and buttermilk simmering on a stove. years of drawling and pulling along the vowels braided between their intimidating consonant peers. unhurried and rough around the edges. the way he softly answers you despite the wrath and envy that hides behind the snakelike bite of your words when you speak â he tries not to be loud, in fear his speech may be taken as a curse. the last thing katsuki wants is to scare you away, especially when you make a habit of escaping from his hold like a bird from a net or a gazelle from a hunter.Â
you turn silent â in a manner similar to the creep of the quiet night that sneaks up on her friend, the day â shifting upright and bringing the duvet with you. âdonât need you to,â your fingers curl in the blankets until crescent moons form in your palms through the thinness. you donât snap, that is what terrifies katsuki more. âand that doesnât mean you have to baby me.â itâs a childish retort that you add on, one that lands in the pocket of silence beginning to brew at the center of the room. sour like the punch of a lemon when you sip on something citrus. âiâm an adult, we can fuck if i wanna.âÂ
âbut i donât,â he feels far away when he responds, carefully unveiling his truth to you at a safe distance, to avoid the splinters of your shattering morning. âeven if youâre nicer to me when youâre fucked up.âÂ
a rare joke from him turns you into the cheshire cat.
âyou think iâm mean sober. so you prefer me subdued.â you ask, a taunting tone intertwined with the cadence of a person who seeks only to get a rise out of their victim. you pass his
the blonde whips round to face you, not to yell or to âlisten. you were drinkinâ, i wasnât there to look out for you and there could have been anythinâ in your system. i was worried about you.â something churns in his stomach and ties his intensities together in some kind of fatal knot guided by a sick sense of anxiety. itâs the same kind of feeling you. katsuki sighs, shoulders falling as though the strings that master them have been released. âi donât wanna argue.â
âme either,â you quip, sensing the defeat. âmy head really hurts, kats.â
he softens as you drop the topic. a change in tactics to keep him on his toes, interested in playing the game of chess youâve laid out for the two of you. his pieces have been stolen, barely anything left on the board since you so eagerly take and take from him. âi know baby,â katsuki supplies in that sugary simple syrup manner that would have any girl twist her ankle in order to get a chance with him. âjust, lemme get you some orange juice for your hangover, kay?â
âwith bits in it? bleck. you know i donât like orange juice.â he does. of course katsuki bakugou knows that you hate orange juice with the little floating pieces of fruit flesh and that you prefer the kind of squash you dilate with running water over anything else. he knows that you hate to eat breakfast in the morning because youâre never too hungry, but if he were to cook something up youâd eat it with the same appetite as a grown man. katsuki knows you like the sun burning up high, would know the familiar company of a summerâs day and a clear blue sky â in a way thatâs complimentary, two souls tangled by a fine rouge thread, knotted with no loose ends. Â
except he finds you tugging at them as though youâre a bird caught in a net â fighting ferociously until youâre too fatigued to taste it. freedom. as though youâre frightened of the calm katsuki could offer you. he dwells on the thought, standing too still amongst a hurricane â biting fear cool against his skin because heâs not entirely sure what heâll do when he loses your presence beside him simply because youâre not ready for something greater.
his eyes drag away from you, polarised to the wall like a magnet that attracts. âwell itâs either that or tomato juice, pick your poison,â katsuki supplies, listening for your tantrum amongst cotton sheets. you settle on the bright, more-fruity counterpart ( because youâve argued about this before at 3AM whilst heâs been in indonesia for a mission and you've been stuck here â using your spare key to get into his apartment when youâd missed him. tomato, despite its many seeds, isnât a fruit in your eyes ) and the blonde hauls himself up from the edge of the bed to find his juicer in the kitchen. âthatâs what i thought, brat.â
katsuki never leaves you without saying goodbye. a text after patrol to let you know that heâs safe, a kiss on the forehead when he moves from one room to the next, a perfectly wrapped morsel of his soul packed up into a brief, flickering moment all for you. something to keep when the regular rhythm of your body starts to fall out of tune without him, no matter how long or short the time spent apart is â katsuki always gives you something.Â
but this morning he leaves the bedroom with his lips pressed into a thin line and the hard set expression of a man whoâs worked so much for too little in return â breaking a sweat to undo crossed wires as though thereâs a time bomb ticking relentlessly between you that requires a special agentâs touch to figure you out. katsuki isnât a spy, he isnât a mind reader and yes, heâs super-human⌠but in his line of work there are just some people you can never seem to save. maybe youâre one of them and maybe thatâs why he feels as though he might need to give up.
you draw your knees to your chest underneath the sheets in order to add pressure to the panic building within â he doesnât shut you out in the manner that you do with him. katsuki always comes back to pull you out of your own mess as though youâre a wounded animal in need of tending. heâs good like that. he cares about you like that.Â
youâre a blender, an emotional one at that, you come with razor sharp, silvering blades that constantly whir like a looming threat. get too close and youâll lose a piece of yourself, bleed out on cold concrete like a saviour who tried entirely too hard to save someone who didnât want it. what seems right to him, when it comes to you, is a means to his own demise and death â in this tale, katsuki is a wolf licking crimson blood from a blade poised to kill him, worsening his own wounds inflicted by his own desire for you.
a mere twenty paces away, you listen to him clatter about in the kitchen â juicing fresh fruit for you. from scratch. just to help you feel better. It's a luxury you know that you donât deserve, a tragedy that you know heâll play line by line if it means being with you. for a while, you thought yourself invincible, taking advantage of the weakness of men who have hurt you before. yet, katsuki is kind, he warms you, treats you as though youâre flawless to the point where you feel as though you are a physical lie. an apple dealt to adam instead of eve, rotted on the inside and ripe on the out.
bakugou waltzes back into the bedroom not even ten minutes later, freshly squeezed orange juice and two pills in hand to ease away the pain you know doesnât compare to what lives between each intercostal space protecting his heart and lungs. he says nothing. you say nothing. the room feels like a trap, latent hostility building between the four walls as if it had cemented them together itself.
you inhale, like youâre taking a drag of a cigarette. you donât want the smoke to clear â youâll see the heartache in his eyes clearer then.
âare we okay?â you ask with the uneasy focus of someone who feels like her world is out to get her â drown her in the emotional turmoil sheâs built. a swig of orange juice and bitter paracetamol clings to the insides of your teeth, causing a similar discomfort to that in the atmosphere. âi feel like⌠things have been really weird. with you. with me.â Â
âno âm not. youâre being weird.â he delivers the line with a sharp intensity youâre completely unfamiliar with â like heâs taken on the same skillset, the same precise aim of an adroit sniper, and gone straight for your heart â forcing himself to speak over the blockage in his throat that keeps him from spilling emotions like an oil slick on clean water.Â
a wound to the body can easily heal, but one to the heart that keeps pumping, can last a lifetime. you donât scream out in agony, a wounded soldier on a battlefield â no â you quickly build a defensive shield and strike a strategic attack, because your ego broils brightly underneath the surface of your skin and never settles enough to let your temper just be. Â
this time round, you scoff in braggart disbelief. as if you hadnât expected this, the rain on your make believe parade. âwoah okay, childish.âÂ
observant as ever, katsuki does not miss the way you roll your eyes over the glass â the spread of your lips seeping into your cheeks as they take the form of a grim lour. something akin to kindling, a match-stick ready to set light to a bomb. this morning youâd promised not to argue, and yet, one catches in the wind that changes course. imminent and ready to detonate this faux relationship youâve built.
âoh, like youâre not.â the blonde snaps back, sarcasm snaked between syllables.Â
âalright then, whatâs that supposed to mean, katsuki?â
âyou just â âm justâŚâ bakugou grapples for a sensible sentence, something to explain away the clouds in his mind that came with you. he hates to admit it, how you unhappiness came into his world soon after you did, bringing with you bouquets of bewilderment and nights where too many things were left unsaid. âitâs okay for you to tease me and not the other way around?âÂ
itâs unclear why that sets you off, perhaps its how accusatory bakugou sounds. when he says it like that â calls you out on how hypocritical you can be, your temper flares like a streak of red in the dead of night. a cry for help to anyone watching, to katsuki not to give up on you before youâve properly started.
âyouâre not kidding around though, itâs not funny,â spitting venomously, you let your response rain down on him like acid rain, searing through the thick and guarded armor he thought he had built strong all these years. âyou keep calling me mean when thatâs how iâve always been, firey just how you like it. you treat me like iâm made of glass, like youâve gone soft and keep looking at me like iâm gonna burst into flames!â it keeps going, this gruesome splurge of awful words used to cut at him, and you canât stop it because you see it working. the manner in which this big, mountainous and explosive man, shrinks away from you as though it burns to be near. âlike me, being here is setting you off. almost as though you donât want me here. and if you donât, thatâs fine, iâll go. but in the future donât bring me over if youâre gonna act all avoidant and shit.â
katsuki sits up now, alert, as if his burns have been doused with cold water. his carmine eyes, devoid of the same cruelty you treat him with, are electrified with everything he doesnât say. loaded with all the ways youâve hurt him. tears that refuse to fall. âwhat? was i supposed to leave you there drunk with that fuckinâ asshole? the one you keep fucking when âm not around to give you the attention you crave.â the blonde throws a thumb your way, inculpatory. âyou donât get to do that, call me like âm some shitty lapdog. then c-call me that fuckinâ name and then act like itâs weird that i want to take care of you.âÂ
âcall you, what, katsuki?â
âcourse you donât remember,â bakugou grumbles incredulously, standing from the bed in the same manner someone would flee from the scene of a crime. like he needs to get away from it all. from you. from the jail cell that is your fucked up relationship. ââm not saying shit. got patrol so âm headinâ out.âÂ
the blonde excuses himself weakly and reaches for his hero costume as a shield.
because maybe, right now, he needs to be dynamight instead of katsuki. he needs to be a hero to save himself.
âkatsuki,â you growl to make him stay. âcall you, what? say it. itâs on the tip of your tongue.â
the look he gives you is wounded and pleading. the kind only a dying animal could give whilst begging to be put out of its misery â whatever katsuki says now will be blood on your hands, his organs violently spilling into your grip since youâre the only person in his life with enough strength to rip his heart out from behind the doors to his psyche. âyour boyfriend. you called me your boyfriend last night and i picked you up and i liked it.â katsuki admits from across the room, at a safe distance from you because confessing feelings to you is akin to stepping on a land mine.
heâs been fighting an internal war since figuring out that he feels for you outside of fucking, wishing like a wistful child on every lucky star that perhaps, you would be able to wave your white flag and admit the same. beyond your own facade, you could maybe trade your heart for his like you would for a trading card. if youâd wanted him the way he wanted you, youâd push your pride away just enough to let yourself believe you could love someone outside of yourself.
 âi liked that you sat in my backseat, on the verge of throwing up and called me your boyfriendâŚâ he supplies in the same way a child would when they make an attempt to be part of adult conversation â rushed in the sense that syllables land awkwardly and vowels tack themselves to the underneath of his tongue it moves around in his mouth, like thereâs too much to say to you and not enough time for telling you. âi feel sick just sayinâ i liked that you let me hold your hair back when you did eventually puke your fuckinâ guts out, ând let me shower you ând change your clothes. let me hold you without making it weird, like weâre not supposed to do that shit just because all we do is have sex!â
with every inch he gives, you take, and the consequences nearly choke katsuki bakugou slowly to an unfair death. âi know you wonât ever let me do it again, now that youâre sober, âcause thatâs not what you want and itâs not what we agreed to. you donât like lookinâ like you need someone.â
âbut i liked it,â bakugou rasps, vocal chords strained like an out of tune guitar â the notes wail into the tense, thickened air. âeven if it was only for one fuckinâ night. when you were mine, for just one night. i liked being your boyfriend.âÂ
he liked being wrapped around your finger, even if it were a noose.Â
âbut youâre not,â the words of your retort are entirely too harsh and brittle, and they slip out like fine sand through fingertips before you have a chance to stop them. âyouâre not my boyfriend.â
âexactly.â
âso what do we do?â
for the first time that morning. you sound scared â reality dawning on you as though youâve woken up to nothing after dreaming about everything you could have ever wanted.
âdunno, do whatever you want,â heâs so tired of going back and forth. if he knew from the very day your eyes first met â in a similar fashion to two worlds colliding, colours mixing, flowers blooming â that this is what youâd wanted, he would have stayed far away. âyou can stay. you know where your things are ând i left you breakfast. in the fridge. bottom shelf where you can reach it.âÂ
âkatsuki, iââÂ
he shakes his head, the weight of him in your mind and head and in this very room lifting â as though he were never there. you seal your lips. your true feelings are a sullen, oppressive secret behind your teeth.
katsuki bakugou is stubborn. he always has been. to a fault. âi really gotta go, kay?â
you sink into the sheets, âokay⌠iâll call you?âÂ
the pit in the stomach tells you heâll wait for your call, you know he will. heâs always been self destructive like that. youâre like a ticking time bomb in the centre of his bed, where heâs supposed to feel safest â just waiting to explode and send shards of shrapnel shaped like daggers directly into his scarred heart and heâs got no sense of danger. no telling of when youâre going to go off and decimate him.Â
âbe safe.â you add.
âi will be. iââ katsuki looks back, his tongue pushed to form the shape of love that he quickly abandons as if the weight isnât crushing his heart in his chest. â⌠just donât go anywhere? weâll talk about this later.â
you nod silently as he leaves. afraid.Â
you never do talk.Â
you never do stay.Â
because heâs certainly not your boyfriend and youâre not his girlfriend either.Â
thereâs no obligation in that anyway.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesnât do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! â asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Š TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.
synopsis: bakugo hasn't been himself since the war, and you come up with a plan to get him back to his usual hot-headed self involving all things he hates: birthdays, surprises, and distractions.
genre: smut with plot, fwb to lovers (brief), established relationship (toward the end), bakugo being his usual emotionally congested self :<
warnings: p in v, mentions of breeding, rough sex, sex on camera, i talk about bakugo's injuries sustained from the war but not in detail
a/n: i actually hate this and this was written to be released in april for bakubros birthday but im trying to finish off drafts in the hopes of curing my writers block so just take whatever this is
emotionally congested and traumatised bakugo i love you pls come home
Katsuki Bakugo hated distractions.
He had a goal to reach, the same clear mission he'd be on since the first time his palms bubbled with those familiar fireworks, and he'd be damned if he let anybody take that away from him.
Which is why, he could never quite understand his peers obsession with relationships.
It seemed to be all everyone spoke about once they hit sixteen. Like a switch being flipped, suddenly conversations about training strategies and recent villain attacks became promposals and walks to class, which eventually became cam girls and instagram models and the preface of being able to feel the touch of a woman before they turned 19. It seemed to be all anybody thought about, their sole reason for every change of appearance, every gym session, every niche interest they thought would make them look cooler for whatever woman they hoped to impress.
Each and every one of his peers strayed from their goals, or at least in Katsuki's mind they had. Too focused on their love lives to deal with the task at hand, becoming the fucking best.
And the worst part? It wasn't just the guys.
For months, girls with barely enough brain cells to string coherent sentences together when in his presence had been throwing themselves at himâ lining the halls with their doe eyes and perfectly pouted lips, practically on their knees in the hopes he might spare them an odd glance.
He spent most training sessions telling himself if one more airhead girl tried to spark up a useless conversation with him, he would have no choice but to blast them so far that he would never have to suffer through being in their presence again.
Hopefully It would warn off the others too.
That was, until you came along.
For the first time ever, Katsuki was head to head with someone just as cut throat, just as prideful and possibly just as sharp tongued as him.
It was safe to say his superiority complex took a hit.
And to make it worse, despite you being all those thingsâ there wasn't a malicious bone in your body.
People didn't dislike you. They envied you, put you on a pedestal and actually wanted to be your friend. Kids your age didn't cower at the sight of you or roll their eyes whenever you'd share an opinion.
If he were able to dig deep enough, he would've known that was probably what ticked him off the most. And in truth, that was also kind of what drew him to you in ways he fucking hated himself for.
Mostly, it was the challenge that had initially excited him. The prospect of being able to conquer you, to prove this was just another obstacle on his way to being the best and that if he satiated this undying need he had for you, that he would be able to go on with his life as normal and the sight of your glossy lips as you berate him over something stupid burnt into his retinas each and every night would be one he'd never have to see again.
After a few years of back and forth, he learned that to be impossible.
You weren't something to be conquered. You stripped him of everything he thought he knew he was and introduced him to things he didn't know he could be.
One being, your quiet little fuck buddy whenever you felt like giving him the time of day.
It was humiliating.
He had practically spent the entirety of your freshman year of college sneaking in and out of your dorm room, often at night, sometimes dayâ sometimes you even went as far as to drag him into the empty locker rooms while your class mates worked their asses off in the gym just a wall away.
"Be quiet." he had hissed at you, though he never really wanted you to be. "Those dumbasses get to hear even one noise out of you and I'llâ"
You smiled, daring, as you roughly made work of removing his tie. "You'll what, Katsuki? Blow them up for being subjected to hearing us fuck?"
He cringed. "Shut up." He hated the way you always used that word. It made his skin crawl with shame, and even more so want, despite never being able to place a finger on why.
It didn't matter. He supposed he fucked out any rogue feeling he had each time he saw you.
He delighted in the way you'd cave for just a moment. The split second where you'd fully give into himâ nails clawing at his back and fingers tangled in his hair. That solid block of distance you always kept between the two of you finally melting away for just long enough he could taste the intimacy.
"Only me that makes you feel like this, huh?"
"Only I get to feel this pussy."
"Whose pussy is it?"
Me. Me. Me.
You had been absolutely sure he just loved the sound of his own name at the time. Unbeknownst to you, it had always been much deeper than that. He never just wanted you to be his, he wanted to share one another. How fucking pathetic.
When the arrangement between the two of you reached its tipping point, Katsuki was sure you'd run.
"The fuck's this?" he had asked, picking up a neon pink post-it-note from atop your desk.
He always stood awkwardly by the door whenever you let him in, scanning your plain old dorm room like it was his first time being there. Force of habit, or the fact he was still equally amazed you even welcomed him in.
This time the small piece of paper had actually caught his eye, and now he was standing in your door way, note in hand, glaring at you like you had done something horrific.
"What?" you laughed him off, cross legged on your single bed and still scribbling down equations from your study session with Mina.
"Who wrote this?"
His question was simple, but you squinted at him like he had asked something impossible.
"Does it matter? It's a post-it-note."
"I know what the fuck it is."
"Then why are you so interested in it?" you scoffed, turning back down to pretend to be focusing on your notebook.
"You're getting this soppy crap from some extra and I'm not supposed to be god damn interested in it?"
He was closer now, threatening to blow the thing into smithereens with the way his hand was shaking around it, displaying the lengthy combination of digits (obviously that of a phone number) and a love heart sketched across the bottom.
"How do you know it's from a guy?"
He stilled.
He really wasn't joking. You couldn't play this one off with your wit, nor could you distract him with some mindless sex and pray he ignored whatever this was between the two of you just a little longer.
Your sigh felt like a knife in Katsuki's throat. He was absolutely certain this was it, and when you readjusted your position atop the bed time had to have stopped. . . at least that's what it felt like for him.
"Katsuki." you called, tone laced with a little warning, or exasperation. He was never very good at knowing.
You weren't Japanese, at least not fully. Foreign to the concept of calling people by their last names, in fact you yourself considered it a little rude when they all seemed to only recognise you by your surname. You had always called him Katsuki, adamant it was 'your way of showing respect despite disregarding Japanese customs' and found it a little kiss-ass-y to refer to one of your peers the way you had only ever been raised to address elders.
He didn't mind, though at first he liked to pretend he did. The only issue was that it made it impossibly harder to read you, having to focus on your tone alone rather than by which name you called him.
So, he just stood there. Waiting for the final blow. Waiting for you to tell him you were finally fed up with him and kick his ass to the curb.
"You're pulling that face."
His eyes snapped into focus, actually able to take you in like he had been avoiding it the last few minutes in the hopes it would sting less if he didn't see the words leave your mouth.
His lips were pulled into a thin line, almost like he wanted to bite them out of nerves but couldn't let himself fall apart that much. His crimson eyes had been following floating shapes, but now they were completely locked on you and god you could see everything in them.
It wasn't unusual for him to look like this. It was the kind of face he pulled whenever you knew you had cut a little deep for him. Though, this time was specifically raw. So raw it made your chest feel a little tight and your eyes threaten to fog over. It was like he had stripped himself naked in front of you, which ironically would have held less intimacy between the two of you by that point.
The entire time you focused on analysing him, Katsuki was studying you. You were cautious, but you weren't weary. No part of you was ever afraid. Your lips were pursed in something he couldn't put his finger on, but your posture proved open and relaxed.
He was never quiet for this long. Not in times like this, not to anyone else. Typically, by now he would be creating a borderline fire hazard in his palms and threatening to light the whole complex on fire. But he never did that around you. He simply stood there and took it, allowing you to say whatever you wanted to him and knowing he would still walk away after if that was what you wished.
It was a little unnerving, to say the least.
"Are we just going to play sleeping lions the entire time you're here?" you cocked your head to the side, desperate to pry an answer from him.
"Is this you tryin' to break up with me?" he whispered, eyes to the floor, his usual gruff voice seeming to bubble up his throat like he had been trying to cage it in for the last 5 minutes.
For the first time ever, he had actually managed to render you a little speechless. You had no idea how he had come to that conclusion, but you didn't question that this all made sense in his tiny little brain and lack of ability to determine social cues.
"Katsuki, look at me."
All you could do was smile, beckoning him toward you with open legs and a purposefully hiked up skirt, allowing himself to stand between them as you swung them over the edge of the bed and made quick work of prying the belt from his jeans.
He didn't fully remember, but he knew that night ended with your cheek pressed to his impressively toned chest, babbling cock drunk nonsense about how amazing he was until he was really starting to believe it, more than some act he put on in order to become number 1.
And he knew he had grumbled something along the lines ofâ "The next dumbass that tries to impress you with a shitty piece of paper will have me to deal with."
To which you had replied, "You know that note was from a waitress at Lunch Rush trying to get me to tutor her daughter, right?"
It didn't matter. He was knocked out before you even got the chance to finish your sentence, snoring softly into your hair like even in sleep he wanted to inhale you.
Your first spout of PDA afterwards had partially shocked everyone. Not that the two of you had spent months sneaking around, no that was common knowledge. Mostly that Bakugou was allowing somebody to touch him in front of multiple sets of attentive eyes, and that his usual scowl was dialled down to about a 7, indicating he was a little pleased.
It wasn't anything huge. Just a little hand holding and some close proximity between the two of you in the common rooms. You truly didn't think it was that big of a deal, so when a few of the girls came to you out of concern for you, it was safe to say you were shocked.
"We just. . .wanted to make sure you were okay." Momo added, glancing at the girls around her who nodded in agreement, all smiling at you like you were about to break.
You raised an eyebrow, laughing a little awkwardly as you scanned the group, finding each and every one of them shared the same pitiful expression.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"
"No, no! No reason!" Momo quickly covered, smiling so hard you thought her cheekbones might burst through her skin.
She was then interrupted by Jirou, who was lazily participating in the entire ordealâ "They're worried you've developed some kind of Stockholm syndrome from being around Bakugou so much."
A couple of the girls turned to swat her in various places, but you just blinked at them. It was. . a lot.
You weren't sure how to feel. Grateful for their concern, but deeply offended they would even entertain the thought of you being so. . weak.
There were a few long beats of silence, save for the continuous sparking of Jirou's tired wires, before you finally spoke.
"Thanks for the concern, guys. But really, it's not needed."
Mina was quick to cut in, stopping you from elaborating any furtherâ "Are you sure? I mean, you've gotta be some kind of insane to torture yourself like that."
Her tone was a little humorous, though you could feel the truth laced behind her words and it rubbed you a way you didn't like. It was one thing for them to assume you were incapable of making your own decisions, but to think you lacked so much self respect they saw it as you torturing yourself for his benefit really drove you over the edge.
"The only thing I would class as torturing myself is staying anywhere near this conversation."
Now, years later, he still excited himself in watching you stand up for yourself. He enjoyed not having to play hero for once, not once having to swoop in and protect you, let alone ever defend your honour.
He was dispensable to you, and some odd part of him cherished it. Like the time he had with you was worth more knowing it wasn't something that was vital to you, it was simply because you enjoyed it.
When graduation came around, part of him was sure that you would break it off then and there. You were always going on about how the two of you should be able to experience things on your own, not chained by the weight of one another.
But you didn't.
In fact, the two of you applied to the same hero agency; as did the rest of your friends. (mostly yours, though they all seemed to have some compulsive obsession in making him believe they were his too.) You weren't even disappointed that the two of you got in. You actually celebrated his achievement, not allowing it to strip any worth from your own accomplishment just because he had also passed the entrance exam.
So, of course, when his birthday rolled around, you would be sure to make it one of the most special he had to have had in years.
Except birthdays with Katsuki were especially hard because, birthdays? Massive distraction.
Not only that, but the typical birthday has all things Katsuki hates. Parties. Celebrations. Balloons. Banners. Cake. Alcohol, which would be specifically difficult plan around considering it's his twentieth, and worst of all, surprises.
Every dumb party or poorly decorated cake you had conjured up over the yearsâ of course, never without the help of othersâ had turned into a fire hazard within minutes.
Katsuki hated birthdays, he hated surprises, and he hated that everyone was always so set on finding an excuse to party rather than focusing on climbing the ranks, like they were supposed to.
So, you decided you would gather a few ideas about what he might want to spend the day doing while it was just the two of you.
"Your birthday's next week."
He turned to give you a lookâ like, 'We both know it is, why are you bringing it up all of a sudden?'
You stroked your legs against the bed a few times, to which he noticed the way the greatly oversized t shirt you were wearing rode up your thighs. He almost got the pleasure of forgetting what you were talking about altogether.
"Well, you're not gonna spend it alone, are you?"
"No." he grunted, turning back to the mirror to adjust the collar of the black polo he had just thrown on. "I'm spending it with you. Like I've done every other year since I was eighteen." he explained, matter-of-factly.
You groaned, tipped your head back and let it hit the pillows behind you. He made a sharp turn to give you a look that read equally as terrified you didn't want to spend any time with him and equally as furious about it.
You sat up a little straighter, "It's not that I don't enjoy spending your birthday with you! It's just that. . . don't you wanna do anything else this year?"
He pretended to think for a moment before turning back to the mirror and fussing about with his hair; "No."
You were silent for a moment, quietly studying him. His right arm weighed a little heavier than the left, still not fully recovered from the injuries he sustained. It twitched weirdly around his head, like he had to think a little harder in order to will it to move, always slower than the left one.
It made your heart tug a little. Mostly you were grateful for how soft he became after the war, but part of you missed the obnoxiously loud boy you knew, whether it was just a front for the anxious, insecure teenager he truly he was or not.
You wished there was a way you could try to break him out of whatever shell had formed around him now, until your invisible little lightbulb sparked with an idea.
"What're you smirkin' at?" he grumbled, crimson eyes boring into you through the reflection in the mirror.
"Oh nothing, sweetie." you waved him off, unable to hide the pure devious excitement for what you knew you had planned for him.
He was about to protest before you shut him up with a compliment on his hair and shot him a wink, to which he grumbled something under his breath despite the obvious glow of pride in his cheeks.
"You want to surprise him?"
"Yeah, I mean seriously, don't you remember how it went last time we tried to do that?"
"He nearly melted my sound system." Jirou grumbled.
You nearly squealed, pointing a finger in her direction as if to say she had the correct ideaâ "Exactly why we should surprise him!"
The group all took turns blinking at each other before turning to you.
"Have you lost your mind?" asked Sero, who had stayed mostly silent for the entire interaction.
You sighed, a little at a loss and unsure of how to explain your most-definitely-insane plan to them. "He's just been so. . .tame since. . ." you trailed off, their solemn nods of understanding enough for you to continue without touching on such a hard subject for all of you. "I just wanted to do something that would bring him back for a day."
Everyone was silent for a few moments until Kirishima was the first to speak upâ "She's right. We all know Bakubro's been in his head way too much for way too long." he explained, moving to stand next to you, swinging an arm round your shoulder as if to show he was on your team. "Plus, it probably couldn't hurt the guy to let off a little steam."
The rest of them seemed to roll over the idea in their heads before eventually each one agreed.
Mina was the next to step forward, clasping her hands together and an unmistakable grin on her faceâ "Alright, what do you need us to do?"
Mina was appointed party organiser, keeping the troops in line and ensuring everything was completed to perfection while you took it upon yourself to distract Katsuki long enough to give them time to set up.
When you met him right outside his final meeting before lunch, he was a little skeptical, knowing it was on brand for you to have something torturous planned for him on his birthday. But, when you offered to take him to his favourite Sichuan place downtown all suspicions seemed to float away at the smell of spicy noodles and deliciously flavoured broth.
He was busy scarfing his own food down when he noticed you weren't really eating, glued to your phone with a slightly 'i'm-stressed-but-not-trying-to-ruin-your-day-by-showing-it' look on your face.
He placed down his chopsticks, mouth still full of noodles, and aggressively wiped the orange stains from the sides of his mouth on the back of his fist. When you still didn't look up from the screen, he grumbled, making a swipe to snatch it from your hands which you quickly dodged, clutching it against your chest.
"No phones at the table." he disciplined you about manners through a mouth full of food, ironic.
You sighed, placed it face down on the table. "I know, baby, I'm sorry."
"What's up?" he swiped at his mouth again before pointing at you, circling your expression with his finger, "What's the face?"
You sat a little straighter, hand flying to your cheek to pat it a few times and make sure there was certainly nothing funny sticking to your makeup.
"What face? I'm not pulling a face."
"Oh yeah? You look like you're about to explode."
"Like, in my pants?" He didn't look amused, so you caved a little into giving him a real and well thought out excuse. "Sorry, the girls are kind of blowing up the group chat. Ochako and Izuku broke up again." Although you typically didn't condone lying, this situation seemed fitting. Plus, was it really lying if she had given you permission to use her name?
"No shit, let me read!" he jumped up, making another grab for your phone and this time you didn't make it in time, watching in horror as he leaned back in his chair and punched in the password.
You had to think of a good excuse and quick, but somehow all your panic left you with was; "You can't go on my phone!"
He furrowed his eyebrows at you over the screen, "Why?"
"Mina's nudes are on there!" you practically screamed for the entire restaurant to hear.
That was enough for him, making him fake gag and throw the phone back against the table, giving you time to shove it deep into the bottom of your purse as he made it clear how disgusting he thought the two of you were.
You managed to avoid any other hiccups right up until the two of you were making your way back across town, hand in hand, under the assumption the group would have finished setting up the apartment by now.
That was until you got an urgent text from Kirishima reading,
Kiri: MINA SAYS DO NOT BRING BAKUGO HOME YET
Kiri: SHE WILL TEXT WHEN EVERYTHING IS READY.
So, you pivoted.
You nearly knocked Bakugo right off his feet with the way you spun on your heel, bracing yourself with two hands against his broad chest. You pushed onto your tip toes, pretending to get a really good look at something behind him over his shoulder.
"Hey, did you see that ice cream place we passed on the way up here? I could kill for a mint choc chip right now!"
Before he could even reply, you were barrelling back the way you came and dragging him with you.
"I thought you said you wanted chocolate chip, why are you staring at the menu for so long?" he grumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets and a mean look on his face. You were beginning to irritate him, and you were living for every second.
"I'm just double checking that's what I want."
"It's not double checking if you do it more than twice. You've been over the same five damn ice cream flavours a billion times!"
"Well, what if I change my mind?"
"You have 10 seconds."
"Alright, alright! I'll have one large strawberry please." you said, turning to the worker, who was equally just as exasperated.
Each comment was a tick in the glorious time bomb that was Katsuki Bakugo, and some slightly sick part of you couldn't wait to finally see the end result.
When the two of you had started on your journey again, happily lapping at two ice cream cones, you made a purposeful show of frowning every so often, even adding a pathetic little sigh here and there.
He ignored you for a while, just shooting you looks from the corner of his eye to make sure you were in no real discomfort, until he got tired of the noise and was forced to indulge you.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"My ice cream isn't that great."
"You spent 10 minutes choosing the damn thing just for it to be not that great?"
You took another lick just to validate your parking, before shaking your head and pulling the thing away from you. "Swapsies?"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Come on, Katsuki! Your one looks so much better!" you whined, extremely dramatic.
He looked at you in disbelief for a moment before grumbling, "Fine. Whatever. Take it." and practically shoving the thing into your hand, watching as you happily licked the melted drips from the side of the cone.
When you made it to his apartment, you gasped so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. "What now!?" he snapped, throwing his arms up and letting them smack back down at his sides.
"I don't have the key!" you pouted up at him, giving your best, most polished, show of puppy dog eyes.
"I have them. You don't ever carry the keys because you lose the fuckin' things any chance you get!" he explained, snatching the metal from his pocket and jangling it in your face a few times.
"Oh. You're right. I forgot." you hummed, stepping back to allow him to shove them into the door, muttering to himself about what an imbecile you were.
You held your breath as you watched him shoulder open the door, kicking his shoes off by the mat and running a hand through his thick hair, leaving it to stick up all funny in the comfort of his own home.
There were a few beats of silence while you waited in the doorway, bag still slung over your shoulder and shoes still tied tightly to your feet, awaiting the final blow.
He shot you a look like he was about to ask what the hell you were playing at before clouds of confetti and the annoyingly loud sounds of party poppers rained through the air.
"SURPRISE!"
Each and every one of you shouted in unison, a couple of the group making their way toward Katsuki, who stood still, allowing brightly coloured streams and pieces of confetti to dance around him before settling on his shoulders.
"Happy Birthday, Bakubro!" Kirishima congratulated, smacking his friend on the back a few times with a force that made him grit his teeth.
He scanned the room, finding Deku and Uraraka perfectly happy in their own little corner of the room, arms around one another and smiling back at him like nothing had happened. Mina and Denki holding the battered ends of streamers that were now smoking out that familiar smell of chemical misery Bakugo hated so much. Sero was still placing the final pieces of tape on a large banner that read; 'Happy B-day Dynamite!' with a bunch of poorly drawn explosions, and Jirou was just about to click a large vinyl into place on the disgustingly large sound system she had plugged into almost every single outlet in the house.
It was all too much.
Katsuki Bakugo hated parties. He hated celebrations. He hated his birthday. And most of all he hated surprises.
It was some sort of colourful scene from hell and he wanted to bury his head in the floorboards and die right then and there.
You, however, were biting your lip, awaiting the explosion you had been so desperately seeking all day. A twitch of his lip into a nasty snarl made you a little hopeful, but instead of one of his usual outbursts, he said nothing.
Instead, he let Jirou press play on the stupid DJ set she barely knew how to work, the sounds of cheesy-pop-dance music ringing out through the house, and accepted his fate.
You had thrown him a surprise party, and he was about to suffer through it without an ungrateful word to be spoken because if that's what you wanted, then he would endure it for you.
He felt your arms snake around his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss against the skin just above his collarâ "You don't hate it?"
He took a deep breath through his nose before speaking, "It could be worse."
You frowned, which made him more than confused. Why did you look disappointed that he wasn't throwing a fit? Was that what your goal was?
"You don't look happy." he stated, an observation.
"I am, I just didn't expect you to be so. . .okay with all of this."
He shrugged, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. "These nerds put all this effort in, might as well keep my trap shut."
"Keep your trap shut?" you couldn't help but cringe. It was the most un-bakugo thing to ever come out of his mouth and, to be honest, you felt a little sick hearing it. "I cannot believe you just said that."
Had he really lost that much of himself? Would it be impossible to return to?
"What're you talking about? This is what you wanted, isn't it? A party?" he shook his head, unable to quite wrap it around what you wanted from him. A few years ago you would've scolded him for being so unappreciative of the people around him, and just a couple days ago you were whining about him wanting to spend his birthday alone.
"No! I wanted you to lose your shit and melt Jirou's stupid sound system! Or blow up the confetti! Or flip the entire drinks table on its' head!"
He still looked a little confused, and with your patience wearing thin you couldn't help what came out next; "I just want my boyfriend back. The one who would never 'keep his trap shut.'"
You didn't know why, but you felt the sharp pricks of tears beginning to well inside your eyes, and your chest felt unexplainably tight as you frowned up at his pale, beautiful, pained face.
It was so much you couldn't take it. You didn't know when your feet started to move but in moments you were shut away in Bakugo's bedroom, back to the door and spouts of uncontrollable sobs racking your body as you fought to keep your knees from buckling.
It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door. Of course, you had made your way to the bed by this point. Curled up in a ball atop the carefully tucked and smoothened covers, still trembling in the aftershocks of tears.
The door opened without a reply. You didn't need to look to know who it was, or to know he made sure everyone had left pretty quickly.
"You still cryin'?" he asked, quietly. To anyone else, it would've seemed a little insensitive, but you knew your boyfriend's long winded aversion to emotion meant he struggled with this field of relationships. You appreciated the effort.
A sniffle.
You could hear him opening his mouth to speak by the wet click of his tongue, before closing it again and making his way toward the bed.
The feeling of the covers jostling under his weight made you grip the pillow a little tighter, burying your cheek in the fabric. He sat there for a moment and you could feel how skittish he was, his fingers dancing over your form like he wasn't too sure whether it would be appropriate to touch you or not.
"You still want me to melt that sound system?" the joke was a little distasteful, but you smiled anyway.
"No." you huffed, turning to face him and giving him a perfect view of your patchy makeup and puffy eyes. "Come here."
You made a silent offer of opening up your arms to make space for him to slot himself beside you, your legs entangling together in one single form as the two of you seemed to fade into one another. You ran a nail across his scalp and he sighed, leaning a little further into the touch and bumping your jaw with the tip of his nose.
"I'm sorry for what I said." you started, but he shushed you with a kiss to the spot where your jaw met your ear, muttering a cue for you to shut up.
"You're right." his gruff voice tickled your earlobe, "'guess I haven't been myself for a while." another kiss, "didn't think you'd miss me being such an ass, though."
"You were much more than an ass, actually." you sighed, craning to your neck to grant him further access to shower you.
"Oh yeah?" he grinned, catching a particularly sensitive spot with his teeth and making you gasp. "'Thought you liked it."
"Maybe just for a little whileâ then you can go back to kissing mine."
He growled at this, playful but still enough to light that familiar fire in your tummy, tackling you flat onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.
"You think I kiss your ass, huh?"
You bit your lip, a coy smile painting your face and cocked your head to the side paired with a little shrug, affirming your answer. He stayed above you, calculating his next move for a few seconds. The air was sweltering with anticipation and he noticed you starting to get a little jittery when he felt your thighs twitch against his.
"Spread 'em, you little brat."
So you did just that, locking your legs around his hips and barrelling him toward you, pulling him so hard into the kiss that both your teeth knocked together and made him hiss. He hated getting his teeth hurt.
His hands were in your hair, on your chest, around your neck, anywhere and everywhere they could reach in such a short amount of time, pinning you to bed with almost his entire weight as he kissed you like he was trying to suck your voice box from your throat.
You grasped his collar, keeping him stationed at your lips for almost too long, eventually having him fighting to pull away for air and licking the underside of his teeth to try to dull the throb there from you nearly knocking them clean out.
"You want it that bad, huh?" his hand had made its way to your mouth, bullying it open with ring and middle finger and using your saliva to coat them in a sufficient amount of lubrication while his other was frantically ripping open the fly of your jeans.
You strained, helping him a little with his fingers still lodged down your throat by lifting your butt up momentarily and shoving the pants down your thighs, allowing him to throw them the rest of the way off before climbing back up to meet your lips.
You felt the cool wetness of his fingers swipe against your thigh a few times, trying to get an accurate enough grip of your panties in order to push them to the side. You huffed, a little impatient that he was taking so long, before the loud rip of lace and smack of elastic breaking made you gasp in disbelief.
"Seriously? Those are my favourite ones!"
"You have a thousand other pairs." he grumbled, throwing the remnants of your underwear somewhere around the room and readying his fingers at your entrance by swiping them through your folds a few times, gathering just a little extra lubrication directly from the source.
You stifled a moan when his fingers buried themselves, wasting no time before they were curling against that spongey spot inside of you. He flicked his wrist once more, making sure he was stretching you deep enough before moving them in and out at a pace that was almost relentless to start off with.
"Katsuki, waitâ"
He scoffed in reply, taking your cry as incentive to keep pushing, holding the twitch in your back down with the flat of his palm splayed out against your abdomen. "Quit squirmin'."
He kept this up for a while, fingers retracting and stroking inside of you methodically, before pulling the rug right out from under you and stopping completely.
You sat up on your elbows, an 'are you fucking serious?' look on your face, but he shoved you back down with a rough hand to your chest so that he could focus on the task at hand; that being freeing his aching cock from his jeans.
When he finally did, you delighted at the tiny gasp he let out as it came up to slap against his belly, precum painting the thick strip of hair there and making him fight to swipe a little from the tip, not particularly fond of the idea of having to use a condom.
"Fuck sake." he muttered as more seemed to pool at the tip when you couldn't help but reach out a hand and grasp him right at the base, the feeling of his girth fitting so perfectly in your hand being absolutely unmatched at this moment in time.
He allowed you to have him for a moment, but once you began to actually pump your hand on him a few times, he was growling and smacking your hand awayâ "Hands off."
You looked up, a little bewildered, but obeyed nonetheless, relaxing back against the pillows and awaiting his next action/instruction, whichever it may be. It was definitely freeing the way he always took so much control in times like this, allowing you to enter auto pilot after a long or particularly trialing day.
When he was finally finished, he bent down to place a hungry kiss to your lips, one hand cupping your jaw so gently you thought he might have already caved. He pulled back for just a second to take you in, before coming right back to the kiss, but you were already stopping him with the way you were practically ripping his shirt halfway off his body.
He chuckled, audibly cocky. "So fuckin' impatient." He helped you the rest of the way by sitting back and pulling it over his head, discarding it some place else and relishing in the feeling of your hungry eyes roaming over him.
He was still a little short, barely pushing 5,10, but god did he make up for it in build. He was pure muscle, so ripped he looked photoshopped. It was like his body had been carefully crafted rather than achieved through actual hard work and dieting, perfectly lean in just the right places while others, ones he had to hone to while fighting, were bulky and strong. His torso was long enough to display all 8 abs (you counted), which disappeared into the prominent v line he sported and typically beneath a loose hanging pair of sweats, though of course right now that wasn't the case, which you were practically over the moon about.
"You could take a picture, it'd last longer." he hummed, thumb jutting out to lazily circle your clit as he gave you all the time in the world to gawk over him a little longer.
You went a little tongue tied at the feeling but tried to force out a reply anyway, "Don't worry, I've already got plenty."
His eyes snapped up to yours at this, a devilish smirk on his face and you could tell an idea had just popped into his head. The warmth from his thumb left you and you whined, watching him dart over to the nightstand and snatch his phone. He quickly unlocked it, punched on the flash and hit record.
"What're youâ" you started, but he shushed you, gripping the length of his cock and swiping it through your folds a few times as he stares through the lens of the camera to make sure he had gotten a sufficient angle.
You couldn't help the way your back arched into him, drawn to him like magnets, and the only thing keeping your stomach from reaching his being his hand returning to splay across your abdomen, palm applying just enough pressure to have you fluttering around him as he finally pushed all the way in, bottoming out inside of you like he belonged there. And in truth, he kind of did.
He had always owned this part of you. This quiet intimacy, the love behind your walls. It's evident in the way he doesn't rush, just savours it for a moment. The gasps you each let out as he slips it in, the goofy little smiles you give each other as he bottoms out, his hand across your stomach because he wants you to feel it. Feel him inside of you, feel the closeness of it, and you don't run from it anymore.
Almost like he's remembering where he is outside of your twinkling eyes, he looks back through the camera and readjusts the phone, making sure you're back in frame before he begins pumping in and out of you.
It's reasonably tame at first, slow and sensual little rolls of his hips, only accompanied by soft sighs from you and a face of pure concentration from him as he holds the camera angled straight at the way he slips in and out of you, already slick with you.
Until you're scratching at his abs, whining and batting your eyelashes at him and he knows you want more. So, he pulls out, retracting until it's just the tip and then pushes in with more force than before, startling you with a shock that quickly melts into pleasure as you moan out for him.
"Fuck! Kats, feels so good."
"Yeah? You missed me being mean?" Crimson eyes beg for answer through his furrowed brows and your eyes trace the light hairs across his top lip as he bites across his bottom.
You nod, quickly. "Want you to be cruel, Kats. Want you to ruin me."
That's enough to flip a switch in him, and in seconds you're flipped over on all fours, phone long forgotten beside the two of you as he's using his free hand to pin your arms behind your back, while the other presses your head into the mattress as he slides back into you at full force.
You cry out, back arching and legs kicking just to feel some type of relief from the immense pleasure, but he's relentless. Barrelling into you with grit teeth and his palm across your head, unforgiving because, "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Fuckin' begged for it. Planned a whole goddamn surprise party just so I'd fuck you right." You try to shake your head, but he only presses harder, leaning over until he's blocking all the light and all you can do is watch him with foggy eyes. "Coulda just asked, baby. Would've given you anything." It's a sweet confession, despite the circumstance, and you mewl in reply, already too fucked out to form words.
"You know I'd do fuckin' anything for you, yeah? Know I'd fuckin' kill for you." You can barely breathe, the only thing keeping you grounded being his hand around your head. It's all too much, in that delicious, mind numbing way and you want to tell him you'd do the same, that you'd give anything to see him happy, but it's impossible to even get a full breath in with the way he's fucking you.
His hand around your wrists is used as leverage, yanking your backside upward until you're practically dangling mid-air, suspended upon his dick like a trophy and he uses the new angle to barrel deeper. Your eyes must've been barely visible, rolled into the back of your head and you think you might be drooling across the pillows, but you're too far gone to mind.
"Gonna put a baby in you. Make sure everyone knows you're mine. No more fuckin' surprise parties then, huh? Not when you're swollen with my kids. My pretty fuckin' wife." His voice is a growl behind bared teeth, sweat dripping from his brow and abs flexing as he tries not to spill inside you so soon.
God, if this were any other time you'd chastise him for suggesting such a thing, but right now all you care about is how quickly you're being hurled toward release, that familiar coil drawing tighter. He can tell by the way you're clenching him, leans down and pushes you farther with his finger circling your clit and his lips against your ear, "Want you to cum on my dick, baby. You gonna do that for me? Yeah?" If you could nod, you would, but that familiar heat is crashing over you in waves and you entire body goes rigid as you cum, hands flexing in his hold and ass pushed flush to his pelvis as you cry out for him.
You collapse against him, and he's not far behind, pulling out and jerking himself, "Shit, baby. So beautiful. Love you so fuckin' much.", moaning until he's finishing in hot ropes across your back and the two of you fall into a sweaty pile across the bed.
You try to roll, find a towel or some old t shirt to wipe yourself off, but he's pulling you down with his arm locked tightly around your middle and pressing kisses behind your ear. "Katsuki! You'll make a mess!" You try to arch your back a little further from the bed, hoping the covers remain clean, but he only pulls you closer until you're flush against him and he's grumbling in your ear.
"Doesn't matter. Jus' lay down for a sec."
You know that tone of voice all too well. The exhaustion behind those slurred words and the sweetness of the way he's nuzzling into your hair, an unguarded display of affection that's indicative of what's to come next.
"Kats? You awake?" You turn over your shoulder, only to be faced with pouty lips, parted with quiet snores leaving him and those beautifully long lashes of his pressed to his cheeks.
You smile, content. At least some things had stayed the same.
soraphic 2k36 â please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.
you havenât heard from your situationship for a month after he ended it with you. you decide to drunk call him one evening.
NOTES: part of my GREYSCALE series. this can work as a standalone but would make more sense if you read the other parts. if youâre here after the last part, thank u so much the messages and theories and responses. they have been so thrilling to read. see this part as a FILLER CHAPTER!! i just wanted to write them.
TAGS: situationship. angst. after the breakup. jealousy. class dynamics. insecurity. cigarettes. alcohol.
a positive reason for dating apps is that you get to cross paths with people you would have never come in contact with outside of it. you didnât grow up in the same area, donât work in the same field or have mutual friends. youâre not similar with the details youâd write on your resume but similar in all the ways that matter. like humour, music, morals, kinks and love languages.
though this tends to mean that after you stop seeing each other, there is no way for you to cross paths again. you donât go to the same supermarkets, nor the same library since he isnât a student, you definitely donât attend the same sunday morning flea market or farmerâs market on mondays.Â
this is how it would go if you dated a normal man. itâs definitely how itâs going for the man who rushed out of your apartment roughly⌠fifteen days from now, if youâre definitely not counting.Â
new tomato soup from that brand you kind of like, the local glasses shop has a deal on, the band your roommate loves is going on tour and a luxury underwear brand with number four hero bakugou katsuki as the face. sprawled out in only his undies on white sheets, tyra banks smizing at the camera.
you have half the mind to smash the glass and pull out that poster because how dare he break your heart and show up at your nearest bus stop every forty one seconds. not only that but he flickers on your television in his full hero gear whenever you go onto the news channel, helping out another childrenâs hospital. and your fucking phone is either listening to you or eating those cookies wisely because every other post and advert on social media is about dynamight. also known as bakugou katsuki. also known as your ex something. your could have been. your so close but not quite.
you think you hate him. his gorgeous gold tooth smile as he laughs on television, how you suddenly become unsure how to use the remote when they interview him. his grumpy resting face, furrowed brows and deep raspy voice appearing as he describes working with the kids is âbetter than any hero work heâs ever done.â you roll your eyes. swallow the lump in your throat.
you groan aloud when the youtube adverts in your phd lecture includes pro hero dynamight shrugging with a breakfast bar in hand. âdâyou wanna eat a bar that goes boom?â then he laughs, his fake one. not like the one heâd do when heâd lay in your arms at night as you tell him a story about your childhood. you get your whole class staring at you but all you can do is clench your fists under the table. you last about twenty minutes before rushing to the bathroom to have a cry, a short one with no traces you ever did it.
if itâs not through a screen or a poster. bakugou katsuki is the guest star in all your dreams. you have three common themes. one where heâs having sex with you. usually in your bed, his head between your legs or when heâs thrusting from behind. both times you never see his face but you know itâs him. every time itâs a cruel joke, expecting to finally see his pretty ruby eyes beside you when you wake up.Â
thereâs another where you go down to the bus stop advertisement by your house and every advert is a picture of him with a different woman. every single one looking nothing like you. youâre stuck to the ground unable to leave, forced to watch him laugh, sling his arms around and kiss someone else. but then you turn around and heâs always there to tell you itâs not real. he wants you.
and lastly, one where the argument was worse. he swears at you. tells you youâre incapable of love. ruined by the last guy. how you donât deserve him after knowing how much he wanted you and you ignored it. whenever you get that dream, youâre grateful to wake up.
you sit in the pub garden alone, your phone shining up at you, full phone number filled in. you havenât drank enough to be making drunken mistakes but every exhale, still after four weeks feels like fingers are clutching on your heart.Â
you thought heâd text you the day after. maybe even two days after. heâd ask when he could collect his three hoodies he left at your apartment and his tool box that he forgot to drop back into his car after he fixed your wardrobe hinge in the summer.
two days drifted into a week so with a face full of tears and throat full of hiccups from your cocoon hut on your bed, you blocked his number. if he doesnât want to text you, well fine, now he canât even if he wanted to. you know itâs a stupid move as soon as you do it. your roommate says a quote she read off tumblr about how love has no ego, translated into maybe you should text him first.Â
but all the walls you had built up before seem to be plated over with titanium. he left you. but heâs waited so long for you. you fucked up big time. but how did he leave after you bared your heart out to him? you still arenât ready.
the harsh wind slaps across your face and you tug your jacket tighter around your body. a shiver shakes through you but it only reminds you to relight your cigarette, tapping off the ash on the glass dish on the table. your tights coated leg bobs, rereading his number over and over again. if you press green, you could talk to him. how fucking good would it be to hear his voice again towards you, instead of talking to a reporter, trying to sell your something or educate you on road safety. for bakugou katsuki to just say your name again.
you take a swig of your cider and punctuate it with a drag of your cigarette. this isnât you, but somehow it feels like you have been cut into before katsuki and after katsuki. after katsuki you would call him. before katsuki you would tell him to fuck himself.
you exhale the smoke through your teeth.Â
love has no ego.Â
you press that green button and the cold screen presses against your cheek. fuck. fuck. fuck. you havenât yet considered the possibility of him not answering, what if he doesnât want to talk to you. what if he blocked your number too? but it rings. it rings long enough for you to create trillions of possibilities of why katsuki wouldnât answer your phone call. maybe heâsâŚ
your dynamight obsessed algorithm did show you a paparazzi photo of bakugou with a woman in the back of a cab. whispering something in her ear, lips pressed to her lobe as she blushes. that image made you gag, rush to your bathroom to dry heave.
three beeps. you tap your cigarette. a dull tone. he didnât pick up.Â
âoh you fuckingâ,â
his number flashes on screen⌠heâs calling you. shit you see in your dreams, here right now. you swing back another gulp of cider, glancing back at the bustling pub behind you. katsukiâs calling you.
you look back to the phone, heart rattling against your chest like itâs magnetised to the one on the other side of the line.Â
you press the green button again, phone to your cheek.
âhâhello?â
âyn.â
you could sob. you swear you were fine, you havenât cried in three days, youâve thought about him about ten percent less than this time last week andâ fuck, nothing has changed.
âhi katsuki,â you breathe and itâs as if all the neurons in your brain have been set alight. serotonin and dopamine and all the happiest chemicals shooting down your body at once. the nicotine makes your skin buzz, everything mixed together soothing you like a fluffy blanket or a pacifier.
âare you okay? are you safe?â
you stub out your cigarette.Â
you canât decipher his tone. a mixture of irritated, panicked and beneath it all, you think you can recognise the relief somewhere mixed in. youâre not drunk enough for this, at all.Â
âgood. iâm gonna hang up now. i couldnât have fuckinââŚ,â he sighs deeply and you can imagine him running his hand down his face, âanyway, bye yn.âÂ
âwait!â you screech. you could apologise, beg for him to come back, that youâll do better, be better. that youâll let him in completely. it feels as if youâve run a marathon, heaving at the finishing line, âyou couldnât have what?â
thereâs a pause.Â
katsuki curses. he sounds deeper, like heâs aged in almost two months apart, âif you were callinâ me for help and i ignored it. wouldnât have been able to handle it.â
âoh,â you exhale, fiddling with the loose string on your skirt. you donât exactly know what to do with that. âiâm at the pub⌠i probably would call emergency services if i had trouble.â
the pauses between every sentence are too long, no natural flow like there used to be. itâs like everything is glaringly obvious. maybe breaking up was a good idea. you miss him terribly. you wonder where he is, usually heâd be at yours at nine thirty pm during the week.Â
âthatâs smart. a hero closer could help you.â you think heâs awkwardly rubbing his nose or his eyes. you hear a scratch of his stubble against the mic. âyn⌠iâm gonna go now ynâ,â
youâve never heard him say your name so much.
âare you dating anyone? i sawâŚÂ i was wondering if youâŚâ perhaps you were drunker than you thought.
bakugou grunts, pained as if someone jabbed him right in the stomach. âiâm not answerinâ that.â and tacked on at the end, you hear it, muttered under his breath, âjumpinâ to conclusions.â
embarrassment becomes energy that bursts through you like you ate one of his stupid sponsored bars.
âof course, i am! all i see is you saving children, trying to shove another product in my face and a picture of you with a woman! why wonât you tell me?â youâre on the edge of tears, shaky breaths to stabilise yourself as you pull a loose thread right out of your skirt. âi⌠iâŚ.â
i hate you. you canât even say the words.
you imagine him leaning back on his office chair, phone to his ear as he looks up to the ceiling. itâs a split second where bakugou wonders whether he should make you wonder like he does every night, if youâre laying in bed with another, if youâve moved on. itâs a thrill to know youâve been thinking the exact same as him.
âfuck,â he grits his teeth. he cannot bare the pain in your voice. âiâm not datinâ anyone. thatâs my publicist.â
you want to ask more. you thought he fired her? whyâd he keep her? did he take her to a fancy ass restaurant and did she like it? she probably fit right in. he doesnât need a publicist. or to be working with a woman that pretty.
you chew on your bottom lip, itâs probably red raw at this point. you wipe under your eyes swiftly.
âi still have your hoodies and your t-tool box.â
he hums sharply. he knows. âyou can keep them.â
your heart feels as if itâs leaking. âkatsuki.â
pleading for more. for something.
âi miss you,â you try, whispering the words like theyâre a secret the wind might carry. the problem was you didnât give, you didnât give him anything before. you can change. âi want to see you again.â
heâs probably looking at his palm, as if the future is written in his prints.Â
âi needâŚ,â he sighs, âyn, we needâ,â
but he gets cut off when a familiar voice calls you. panic runs through your veins, like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
âyn, you better not be on the phone to that man,â your roommate stomps over to you, âhow many drinks have youâ,â
âiâm not!â you wave your hand at her before she can get too close, you need more time. youâre not sure when youâll be able to talk to him again. another month? âiâm talking to that guy from my module, we have a project together.â
âwhat guy?â bakugou butts in, then another annoyed sigh but this time at himself, âdonât answer that. for fucks sake.â
you blink, unsure to focus on the literal man of your dreams over the phone or your roommate now taking a hands on the hips power pose. she holds out her hand for you to drop your phone on.
âgimme.â
âitâs just for the project. itâs forty percent of the finalâ,â you say to bakugou but your roommate gasps.
âaha! give it to me or say bye to katsuki,â she pushes, âyou shouldnât be talking to him after weeks drunk.â
âiâm not evenâ, hey! iâm not even d-drunk!â
bakugou wishes he was in a different life, where you guys never went sour and you were his girlfriend drunk calling to say how much you miss him. not whatever this is, even if it is slightly amusing.
âiâm gonna hang up now. get home safe yn.â
âw-what waitâ,â the last syllable is forgotten as a new voice takes over the phone.
âbye katsuki. iâll make sure she gets home safe.â
âthank you.â
comments and reblogs are appreciated! i delete comments asking for the next part.
seroâs girlfriend is a bit of a bitch, but he doesnât really mind.
18+, minors do not interact!
Sero is head over heels in love with his mean ass girlfriend. You're high maintenance and bratty, and your words are sharper than your stiletto-tipped nails. He doesn't mind any of that; in fact, those traits are some of his favorites. His calm, collected, laid-back nature is just what you need to cool the fire that runs in your blood. Sero would never admit it to anyone but you, the way your vicious words and the nasty bite of your tone always send blood rushing straight to his cock. He loves how mean you are, and how pliant you turn when he gives you what you want.
You hate everything in your closet? "Why don't we go shopping? Get you whatever you want."
You need a new necklace? "How much, sweets?"
You need your nails done? "You bet, babe."
Sero reaps all of the benefits of these things. He's in heaven when you trace your nails along the thick shaft of his cock, the sharp tips pulling soft whines from his throat.
"Ohh, fuck yeah, baby, justâ just like that." He breathes out, his head thrown back as you cup his balls in your hand, digging your nails in just enough to push pleasure over the edge into delicious pain.
Sero's favorite view is the diamond choker he bought you sitting prettily on your neck, glinting in the low light of the living room. The sparkle of the jewels is accentuated by the movement of your throat as he stuffs his cock in your mouth. "Shit, shit, shit, soâmmph, pretty with my cock in your mouth." He groans, his dick kicking in your throat at the sight of the glossy red stains your lipstick has left on his skin.
His favorite pastime? Obviously, helping you choose new dresses and skirts, watching you model lingerie sets. "Come on, mama, spin around for me, lemme see." Sero drawls, watching you from the dressing room chair. There's a lazy grin stretched across his lips as he watches you spin for him, a pretty smile on your own face.
"You like it, Hanta? Wanna buy it for me? Pretty please?" You plead, leaning forward just enough to give him a spectacular view of the way the lingerie top hugs your tits.
"Shit, baby, you're killin' me." Sero groans, taking a look at his wallet. Nevertheless, you leave the store happy with three shopping bags, stuffed to the brim.
No, Sero doesn't mind your attitude at all. Not when you beg so sweetly for him to just "fuck me already" after what feels like hours of torturous teasing. He takes his time with you, enjoying the sounds of your wanton moans and pleas, holding your hips down as you squirm helplessly beneath him. Your thighs are aching and trembling with the effort it takes to hold them open while Sero absolutely devours your dripping cunt.
Sero eats you out for so long that by the time he finally stuffs his cock in you, you're an incoherent mess, babbling out a string of "thank you, thank you, thank you".
"Aw, now you wanna be nice, huh? Only nice t'me when you're getting what you want." He grunts, punctuating his words with harsh, mean thrusts. You let out a long, simpering whine when he reaches down and bites your nipple, hard.
"'SeâSero, 'm sorry! Please please please, gonna cum!" You cry out, scratching angry red lines down his back.
"Shit, yeah, that's itâah! Cum on my cock, baby." He grunts, pawing at your tits with one hand, rubbing fiercely at your clit with the other. He clenches his jaw, clearly trying to hold back his own release. Your cunt clenches down tight around his cock when you do cum, pulling him along with you, painting your creamy walls with his thick load. He collapses on top of you, peppering your chest with short, sweet kisses.
No, Sero doesn't mind your attitude at all. He fucking lives for it.
Bakugo has a lot of bruises and scars on his body.
Like whole lot, but is it bad that you kinda find it sexy?
Heâs a hero and his training only gets more vigorous so itâs natural for him to have a few marks along the way as evidence of that, and he doesnât care much for them. Bakugo takes care of his body despite the fights he has to go through so his marks usually fade or become small enough to forget.
However, ever since high school graduation he has a very distinct bruise on his shoulder blade all the way down to his bicep, that one never really went away despite the amount of pressure placed on it with ice and compression, it was even more prominent than the one of his face and arms. Itâs red and purple hue only grows deeper on days where he works a little too hard, leaving him uncomfortably sore, and today was one of those days.
You noticed him using his left arm to reach things, sucking and hissing between his teeth when a sharp pain hits him from certain angles. When you walked over to grab his protein powder for him he mumbled a thank you. He was more sore than usual.
Never really walking on eggshells with Bakugo, you seemed to have hesitated asking about your idea to massage him. Just for the remainder of the evening. He deserved it.
Surprisingly, he didnât hesitate after your suggestion.He looked at you and immediately surrendered with a soft/gruffy âSure.â.
You took his warm hand to lead to the bedroom, feeling it slowly getting damp, a common occurrence when he touches you and it only makes you hold it firmer.
You let him take off his tank top with ease, his right breast flexing a little made you bite back a smile. His body was littered was small tattoos and bruises to pair. The semi permanent one is darker though.
âLay on your tummy, please.â
He pushes out a weak laugh at the term âtummyâ, but does as told allowing you to rest on the back of his butt and begin your magic.
You knew you were doing a good job when he was doing small groans and hisses, âFeels good?â
âMm.â
âIâll take that as a yes.â You roll your palms deeper into his lower back, feeling his muscles finally relax, âYou deserve it, baby.â
Your comforting words were like a weighted blanket on Bakugo, you always found a way to make him relaxed even if his body refuses to do so. When you tap him to roll on his back you could see the sleepiness in his eyes, âYâgood?â
He does a small yawn and stretch and reaches his arms to pull you chest to chest, kissing your forehead firmly he groans, âIâm good.â
âGood.â You giggle sitting up from his weak grip, âLet me just rub this part okay? Iâll be gentle I promise.â
Bakugo shut his eyes tightly, already anticipating on some slight pain when you apply pressure on his knotted shoulder, and you took notice. So instead you just kiss it.
His eyes open from the soft touch and see you pecking his shoulder down to his arm. Bakugo would be a liar to say he wasnât getting turned on a little bit from how cute you looked and how good your lips felt on his skin, but he didnât want to interrupt. You felt the small knot on his shoulder and kissed it firmer before gently massaging it with your hand, he hisses a little and you kiss his shoulder again.
A part of him wants to question you, but he suspects this is your way of helping with his massage. But he didnât really want you to stop, so he kept his left hand land on the bottom of your butt and just fell further into the pillows with his eyes slowly pushing him to sleep.
The moment you looked up, lips getting a little swollen from so many kisses your big boy was fast asleep and relaxed, but before you could go to get up he grabbed you to lay on top of him on his left side.
Heâs still sore, but not as much thanks to you. Hopefully youâre willing to give him more kiss massages.
You've always been obsessed with aang's back muscles, going to beach or river side was always your favorite thing ever just cause you got total freedom to ogle his back the entire time.
You loved tracing the planes of his back running up and down every slope and following the line of his arrow tattoo and slowly rubbing the scar in the middle of his back anytime he lay on his stomach.
It's the best feeling in the world to hug him from the back and rest your face against his hard muscles or to feel his back when he lifts you up in a hug and have you hanging on to his shoulders.
The thing is aang knows how obsessed you're with his back that is why when you suggested a weekend getaway for your anniversary he was on the case specifically looking for an inn with a ceiling mirror.
Just so he can get this expression on your face when your eyes connected with the mirror and his back on full display as he sunk deep into your pussy, feeling how you clenched around him the moment your eyes locked on the mirror and his back flexed when he pulled out of you.
"Like the surprise" he whispers angling his body to make his muscles more prominent, picking up his pace and drilling his cock into you, the sight of his back has your eyes rolling back into your skull but you immediately open them so you don't lose the perfect view in front of you.
The sounds your pussy is making is nasty completely gushing all over Aang squeezing and gripping the life out of his cock, the place where you're both joined is messy and frothy with you creaming all over him.
You've never been more desperate for him with your nails digging into his back and leaveing marks your eyes glazing over, your mouth stuck in a constant "O" shape but your eyes never closed and it got even worse when he folded you fully into a mating press with him completely enveloping you with him and fucking you even deeper, covering you so much you can't even see yourself and not knowing where you start and he began.
It's all too much, his moans in your ears, whispering the filthiest things known to man, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them as much as they can get to your chest, his pelvic muscle rubbing against your sensitive nub every time he pushed all the way in, his length pulsing in you and stabbing your g-spot over and over again but most especially his back, SPIRITS HIS BACK flexing, dripping with sweat, shifting and moving every time he pushed in you even harder.
All that was enough to have you cumming on his cock in seconds, body seizing up, fingers digging into his back toes curling and still through all this you were trying your hardest to keep your eyes on that mirror especially when Aang flooded your pussy with his cum and you could actively see his back shuddering and shaking causing your cunt to gush even more around him.
"We need this at home desperately" you say into his ear still staring at his back.
A/N: Not the best thing in the world but I desperately needed to drop something in the Aang smut community specifically about his back like we need more back muscle Aang fics PLEASEđđđ
AU where the women in straight porn just grunt and say stuff like "take that big pussy, bitch" while the men scream and moan and convulse and arch their backs while shouting "Oh my god! You're wrecking my dick!"
