welcome to my corner,

she | 30 | lost

[literaryobsession]

🌻 age || 30 || she/her 🌻

hi everyone!

thank you for taking your time to like, reblog, and comment on the stuff I write. let me tell you, the support is appreciated! you are all so amazing! 

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these lists will updated!

zodiac mini game

genshin impact list

genshin impact headcanon

my hero acadamia list

mha headcanon

REQUEST - Open

[bfbkg]

pro hero bakugou who becomes slightly deaf over the years from the loud explosions from his quirk.

and after dating for a while, finally he’s got you in his bed. gorgeous, naked and wet. he can’t take his lips off you. down your neck as you twitch beneath him, planking with his forearms by your head.

“i’m gonna touch you,” he prefaces, just incase you were unaware.

bakugou places his middle and pointer fingers on your bottom lip, “open up.”

wordlessly you do, sucking on his fingers. swirling your tongue around the digits and coating them with your spit. bakugou hasn’t been harder in his life. still he’s got his underwear on and his cock is pressing at the seams.

“fuck baby,” he murmurs, eyes fixed at your face. he won’t admit it yet, but you’re his dream girl. “all f’me.”

then he pops them out to slap onto your clit.

it’s clear you like it when he rubs slow clockwise circles on your nub. your hips keep hitching up for more, legs opening wider to fit his body between. he sees your chest heaving breathlessly and he can feel the shaky vibration of your low moans. low. he can’t hear them.

you’re biting down on your bottom lip, digging your nails into his bicep as you arch your back. clearly, you’re loving it.

he reads your lips as you mouth a fuck, fuck, fuck.

bakugou frowns. he rests on his knees, keeping up the strokes on your clit. his hand rests on your throat and your eyes are set ablaze widening with interest. though he’s only testing for vibrations.

“why the hell are you so quiet?” he blurts. bakugou flushes hot as soon as the words slip out his mouth, partly insecurity because of his hearing, partly because he’s not sure if he’s reading you wrong and partly because now he’s unsure if he’s doing a good job.

but to his surprise you look away from him, clenching your eyes shut. you’re saying something but he’s missing the last few words. so the hand on your throat slides to your chin, forcing you to face him. he gets you pouting, unable to make eye contact.

“what is it? d’you want me to stop?” he says but the second he takes his hand off you, you grip his wrist with a face of pleading. round wide eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. bakugou resumes his slow rubbing.

“i’m… shy,” you mumble, arching your hips into his hand impatiently. “don’t wanna be too loud.”

that gets bakugou chuckling, sexy and boyish. you’re fucking shy. he squeezes your cheeks in his hand and your eyes drop.

“don’t laugh at me!” you bite but a harder press to your clit and you moan. you moan loud enough for bakugou to catch. that’s what he’s been wanting.

“you needa be loud f’me,” he says slowly, inching close to your face. “y’know i can’t hear shit. i need to hear you.”

“oh!” you fluster, “oh, sorry—.”

bakugou shakes his head, he’s always hated apologies.

“loud, baby. or i’m not givin’ you my mouth or cock.” he nods at you, dropping his hand back to the base of your throat. “d’you understand?”

you’re hypnotised by his ruby pupils, head nodding away before you can even take in his words.

“yes, yes. i won’t hold back.” you glance at his clothed cock, large and thick. you run your hand down his chest, stopping at his underwear band. “i want you.”

“good,” he breathes. he feels like a revved engine with a new battery. “i want you too.”

when bakugou slides those same two fingers inside of you, you’re so loud that he’s already welcoming the complaints from his neighbours.

[bearinlaice]

ok hear me out: katsuki breaking the headboard mid sex and him being fussy over it 👀

𐔌 headboard | k. bakugo .ᐟ ֹ ꒱ִ

꒰ cw: 18+, nsfw, humorous?, rough sex, p in v, property damage, teasing!sub!fem!reader, katsuki has strength issues lol, fussy!dom!katsuki, established relationship

꒰ a/n 💬: this is lore accurate because i said so and i was there.

his dick thrusts deep into your pussy with rough, unyielding snaps of his hips, the bed creaking under the force as you cling to him, legs wrapped tight around his waist. sweat slicks your bodies together, his grunts mixing with your moans while he drives harder, one hand gripping the headboard for leverage.

then, it happens all so suddenly… there's a sharp crack that cuts through the room, loud and splintering, enough to make you jolt where you're pressed beneath him, your nails digging into the tense muscles of his shoulders as his hips grind against yours in that relentless rhythm.

for a moment, everything stalls, the heat of his skin still slick against you, his breath hot on your neck.

“…the hell was that,” you breathe, blinking up at him, your body still humming.

katsuki doesn't answer right away. his brows knit tight, irritation flashing across his sharp features as he glances up to where his grip had clamped down on the headboard, his chest heaving with each ragged breath, sweat beading along his collarbone.

another second passes, and he growls low in his throat. “hah?…you've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me,” he mutters, lifting the hand on the headboard off slowly to plant it beside your head.

he fusses at the wood, the fingers of his other hand then tracing the split edge with a scowl, as if poking at it might undo the damage.

you follow his gaze, twisting just enough to peer up and see it — the headboard, crooked now, one side splintered where it meets the frame, wood fibers jutting out like a fresh wound.

and then it all clicks. “didyoujust?—” you start, the laugh already bubbling up despite the way your thighs still tremble around him.

“don't,” he cuts in sharp and immediate, eyes snapping back to yours, but there's a flush creeping up his neck, mixing with the sheen of sweat. he then shifts his weight, his thigh pressing firmer between yours, he's refusing to let the moment shatter completely.

you press your lips together, shoulders shaking as you fight it. “katsuki…”

“i said don't laugh, damn it,” he snaps, voice rougher now, but his free hand twitches like he wants to fuss more, reaching up again to prod at the broken piece.

the headboard creaks under his touch, and he hisses through his teeth, yanking his hand back as if it burned him. “shitty, cheap ass thing— probably been waitin' to fall apart. who the hell makes furniture this weak?” he grumbles, glaring at it. his fingers flexing restlessly before he slaps them down on the mattress beside you again.

you can't hold it in this time — a quiet laugh slips out, muffled behind your hand, your body still flushed and sensitive from where he'd been buried deep.

his gaze whips back to you, narrowing dangerously. “…you think this shit's funny?” he asks, jaw clenching as he glances up again, fussing with a quick shove that only makes the wood creak louder.

you shake your head quickly, still smiling, your hands sliding down his back. “no, no— i just- you literally broke the bed!”

“i didn't break shit,” he shoots back, immediate and defensive, leaning in closer so his warmth envelops you again, his hips settling heavier against yours. “it was already loose. weak frame or somethin'. not my fault.” but even as he says it, he's glancing up once more, brows furrowed in that pouty way.

“right,” you nod, sarcasm dripping, your fingers now tracing the ridges of his abs absentmindedly.

katsuki scowls deeper, and for a second, it looks like he might actually roll off and start to inspect it properly — his eyes flick back to the damage, jaw ticking as he mutters under his breath about some “dumbass quality.” then he exhales sharply through his nose, decision snapping into place. “…forget it. ain't worth stoppin' for.”

before you can tease him more, his hand slides to your hip, grip firm as he tugs you flush against him again. “i'll deal with this shit later,” he mutters, more so to himself, but his thumb digs into your flesh just enough to make you gasp softly.

you huff out another small laugh, still breathless, your body arching instinctively into his hold. “you actually broke it, katsuki. our bed.” you whine playfully, nipping at your bottom lip.

“tch,” he clicks his tongue, unimpressed, but his other hand comes up to cup your jaw, rough thumb brushing your lower lip. “stop yappin' about it.”

his eyes flick up one last time, confirming the headboard's state, and it creaks again under its own weight, basically mocking him.

he exhales, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “…yeah, we're definitely not stoppin' now if it's gonna be fucked up anyway...”

before you can even process that, his grip on your hip is harder, pulling you into him with rough intent, his mouth crashing down to nip at your neck.

the bedframe protests with another shift, but he ignores it, voice dropping low and gravelly right by your ear, breath hot against your skin. “might as well make it worth the damn hassle, yeah?”

[ssshya]

Imagine this.

You were one of the second-year students at U.A.— someone people naturally looked up to. Known for your intelligence, kindness, and quiet grace, you carried yourself with a kind of calm confidence that earned respect from teachers, seniors, and even underclassmen.

And for some reason, that strangely irritated Bakugou. He didn’t know why...

Maybe it was the way you smiled so easily, as everything came naturally to you. Or maybe it was because of that one time in the park, during a random training match, where he lost to you. Not by luck. Not by accident… You beat him.

“Tch.” Yeah. Maybe that was definitely part of it.

“Oi, Bakugou, just do it!”

“I said no, damn it!”

His voice echoed through the hallway, making a few nearby students flinch.

“Sorry, sorry!” Kirishima quickly apologized, grabbing Bakugou’s arm before he could explode any further. “Come on, Bakugo,” Mina joined in, grinning. “You just have to say it once. Then it’s over.”

“Besides,” she added with a teasing wink, “we’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Bakugou froze. Then—

“THE HELL YOU MEAN BY THAT?!”

“Chill, dude!” Kaminari laughed nervously. “She’ll reject you anyway!”

“…Then why the hell do I have to do it?!”

“You can just say it’s a prank after!” Kaminari shot back. Bakugou clicked his tongue, already pissed. ‘Extras. All of them.’

A little while later, he found himself stalking down the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets. “Tch… stupid dare…” He could still hear their voices. She’ll reject you anyway.

“…Yeah. Obviously.” So why the hell was he overthinking it?

He found you in one of the quieter practice rooms. The door was slightly open. And before he could announce himself, he stopped. You were inside, standing near the window, a violin resting against your shoulder. The soft melody filled the room, steady and calm, which was completely different from the noise he was used to.

Bakugou didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just… listened.

Then the music stopped. You turned, and your eyes met his. And just like always—

You smiled. “Tch.”

“Is there something you need, Bakugou?” you asked, gently placing the violin back into its case. “…Didn’t know you played,” he muttered, stepping inside.

“I do, sometimes. It helps with stress.” He scoffed. “Stress? You? Yeah, right. Miss Perfect getting stressed now?” You let out a soft laugh— not offended, just amused.

“Even I get tired.” “…Whatever.” He dropped into a nearby chair, leaving a bit of space between you. Silence settled, but it wasn’t awkward. That alone made him uneasy. ‘Why the hell am I still here?’

The dare.

Right. He clicked his tongue, irritation rising again.

“Oi.” You looked at him. “I gotta say something.” You tilted your head slightly, waiting. He clicked his tongue again.  “…Don’t get the wrong idea,” he added quickly, looking away. “I’m not doing this because I want to.” ““…Okay?” you said, amused.

“I just…” He stopped, jaw tightening. “I like you. There. Done.” He immediately turned, already halfway to the door. “Wait.” He froze. Didn’t turn around. “If you’re confessing,” you said softly, “at least look at me.” “…Tch.” After a second, he glanced back— clearly annoyed and flustered. “And why the hell would I do that? You’re just gonna reject me anyway.” “Why are you so sure?” You asked back. “Because I don’t—” he gestured vaguely, frustrated, “—do this kind of crap. And you don’t even like me.” There was a pause.

Then—

“Who said I didn’t?”

That made him turn fully. You were smiling but this time, it wasn’t just polite. It felt… real. “You always catch my attention too.” Bakugou stared. “…You’re messing with me.” “I’m not.” Another pause. “…Tch.” He looked away again, ears slightly red. “You’ve got weird taste.” You laughed softly. “Maybe.”

“…So, what then?” he muttered. “That means you’re saying yes?” “If you’re serious.” He huffed. “…I don’t joke about crap like that.”

And somehow… That’s how you ended up sitting across from him in a café two weeks later. Bakugou still didn’t understand how things progressed this far. You accepted. You actually accepted. “…This is weird,” he muttered. You smiled. “A little.” “Tch.” But he didn’t leave.

A month later, news spread through Class 1-A like wildfire. Bakugou is dating you? “No way!” “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” “BRO, WHAT?!” Bakugou just glared at all of them. “Shut up, extras!” But the slight redness on his ears said enough.

[r4inerr]

Could you make one where the reader is hit by a quirk that turns her into a guy and she decides to experiment with Katsuki? (Please 🙏🏽)

Katsuki who's partner is hit with a gender swapping quirk

nsfw

Katsuki who’s so thrown off when it first happens. He’s shocked, had no clue a quirk could even do something like this. It’s just been an odd day overall, the two of you are both way exhausted to even try to reverse it at the moment.

Katsuki who’d pretty much forgotten about the whole thing until you’re all cuddled up in bed. The two of you usually slept in your underwear, not a big deal. But you’d stolen a pair of his boxers, cause what else were you gonna do. The two of you typically fall asleep with him spooning you, again, nothing wrong with that. But he’d been just a little horny enough to make him act on it. Slowly dragging his hand down your torso, and slowly into your underwear. And when he feels it he’s brought back to reality. You’ve got a dick now. 

Katsuki who knows he’s fucked when he feels it getting hard against his palm. You hadn’t once stopped him, in fact you seemed to be enjoying this, he could hear your shaky breaths. The huff you let out when he finally decided to accept his fate. He’d completely taken it into his hand. Slowly moving his hand up and down with a solid grip on it. The feeling was definitely odd on your end, not that you were complaining. 

Katsuki who moves to climb on top of you, sitting on your thighs. But not before sliding off his own boxers. He had to help you sit up just a bit to allow him to jerk off the two of you at the same time, but again, you were not complaining. It was definitely the opposite actually, you could finally live out your dreams of “knocking him up” even if he couldn’t actually get knocked up, at least now you could experience what it would feel like. 

Katsuki who spends the night on his hands and knees. For once it’s him who spends the night with a head buried in your pillows. He’s the one holding on for dear life, while having his guts rearranged. It truly didn’t take much convincing on your end either, shocking honestly. You were finally able to tease him the way he’d been teasing you for years now, leaning into his ear whispering a soft “you’re taking me so well baby, fuck” 

Katsuki who ruins your sheets. You probably should’ve laid something down just to be safe, but the two of you had just been way too horny to even think properly. It doesn’t take very long for him to shoot his first load of the night right into the sheets below. And maybe if you’d been paying attention you could’ve teased him for cumming untouched. But you had many more things you wanted to try before the quirk wore off…

Katsuki

[kenforty]

you had a crush on me?!

it's an old interview, from back when you were still a rookie hero, accepting any and every opportunity to be pushed into the limelight that your pr manager suggested.

there is nothing controversial about it, nothing scandalous, but it did resurface after you announced your relationship, with pro hero dynamight.

"you are doing really well," the interviewer leaned closer, gently patting the back of your hand, before switching the cards in her hands, "alright next question, is there any hero out that you admire at the moment?"

you let out a breath, subconsciously biting your lips, teeths nipping at the chapped end.

"I think this comes under, do not discuss category," you joked, shuffling in your seat before leaning back, hands fiddling in your lap.

"no, no, you'll have to tell us now." the interviewer urged you on, tone still light hearted, you could back down if you wanted.

"well, if I really have to choose," you pretended to think, fingers tapping against your knees. "I'd say pro hero dynamight is pretty admirable—"

before you could even finish your sentence, the crowd erupted, a wave oohs hollered as the interviewer tried to quieten the public. "now, now let me get more for that headline." She teased, tossing and exaggerated wink at the camera, "what do you like about dynamight, if you don't mind elaborating?"

"well, he's a great hero, he's strategic and smart and despite his quirk being literal explosions he has the lowest collateral damage rates." you explained, hoping to not fangirl too hard on live television, the interviewer nodded along your words, clearly enjoying her job, "and also he's like really pretty."

She snorted at your final statement, cards abandoned in her lap as she lost composure at your blantness, "let's wrap up for today, give a big round of applause for today's guest."

and the clip ended.

"don't let it get to your head." You sassed, eyeing your boyfriend who was perched on your bed, clad in his bed suit as he waited for you to get ready.

he lifted his arms in surrender, hand gesturing to zip his lips.

but you knew, you knew that he most likely had watched that old interview, especially now that it was trending and it was only a matter of moments before he found an opportunity to tease you relentlessly.

by the time you are done getting ready, bakugou is already at the verge of his seat, eyes expectedly following you around the room.

"what?" you quirked a brow, arms crossed as you came to stand before him, knees nudging the insides of his thighs.

"nothing," bakugou whispered, leaning back, weight balanced on his arms, eyes soft as the lingered on your face, "I am just giddy someone had a crush o-"

"I fucking knew it, that was ages ago katsuki!" you slapped his arm, turning away you strutted over to your shared wardrobe, pulling out a set of lace-up heels for the night.

bakugou followed you, leaning against the door frame as he watched you settle on the stool, hands busy untangling the laces.

he sighed, before coming over and kneeling before you, hand carefully pulling the heels from your grasp, "let me."

you remained quiet, feeling his fingers ghost over your skin as he tied the lace, sliding his finger beneath every loop to make sure it isn't too tight.

"you know, I had a crush on you as well."

"I know, eiji send me a video of the shrine you had in your high school dorm."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Loser.

Dividers by: @/diviniyae 💖✨

[stellarmoonss]

Thinking about.. Bf!Bakugou with Clingy!Reader

Poor Bakugou's just trying to watch the show he's been binging lately but your stomach is hurting and you just insist the only way to cure it is cuddling up to him and trying to get impossibly closer to him by the minute

Your head is rested on his shoulder while you're sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around you and vice versa.

It was a position you'd find yourself in a lot.

You often felt the need to be close to him at all times, you just liked being by him and surprisingly with you, he didn't mind.

One thing about Bakugou is that he's so hot, it's something that's compatible with his quirk and helped him with the process.

But it was nice for cold nights like this when you were freezing and he was your heater. He felt cozy. Warm. Like you could fall asleep right there.

One of his hands were softly rubbing your back, up and down, up and down.

It was little things like that that made you feel so happy and loved with him, he always made sure you were comfortable remembered the things you liked and how to make you feel better.

Small things were evident in things like the way he'd moved his hand to start softly massaging your head, knowing you usually got a headache along with stomach aches.

By this point you'd already fallen asleep, lulled to sleep by his comforting movements and warmth.

However, Bakugou was observant, he was training to be a hero after all, he needed to. He quickly noticed the way that your breathing started evening out after a bit

He softly smiled to himself, seeing your sleeping state, he started lowering the volume on the tv and decided to just turn it off. It was late anyways and he had classes in the morning.

He carried you to bed and wrapped his arms around you once he laid in bed. If you wanted to be close to him tonight then who was he to refuse you? He couldn't lie, he started liking your clingy habits a while ago... but you'd never catch him saying it.

[angelzs3cret]

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who is a year younger then you, mitsuki who is your moms bestfriend since childhood. So it was only natural you and suki were too?

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who would always wait for you outside of the middle school entrance tapping his foot aggressively and a large comical ‘annoyed’ sign across his head. But everyday he’d wait for you everyday

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who would feel his routine be thrown out the window when you told him you weren’t coming into school due to being sick. And if that was bad for katsuki the year when he joined his last middle school year and you joined your first year in ua was a struggle. It took him months to readjust and even then as soon as he got accepted into ua he felt a wave of relief knowing you could go back to normal.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who was the total opposite of you. You were girly,pink,bright and colourful while he was more in tune with black,greys and loud things.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who is genuinely scared of you, you never get angry, but there has been a few times he’s caught you at the wrong time. The scowl across your face, the look in your eye reads all he needs to know and he shuts the hell up and looks away.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who never tells any of his friends about you, more scared of the fact that they’ll try and hit on you, but surprisingly he tells you all about them. When you and your mom come round on weekends at his house he’ll sit and tell you about his new found friends (and how annoying they are). You always tell him how proud you are at how far he’s came since last year, in return he grumbles and rolls his eyes but you notice the little pink tint on his cheeks.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki whose has the biggest crush on you for the longest time, his mother always teases him saying how cute he is. Ever since he was in middle school he admired how beautiful and put together you were but he never thought he had a chance. I mean you’re just friends right?

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who you go on trips/holidays with all the time, whenever mitski wants to go somewhere usually your family trails along to.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who you went skiing with a few weeks ago and you tagged him in a picture of both you in the mirror - his face grumbled and annoyed but there a was a softness to it, while yours was smiley and pink dusted due to the cold. You hand smushed his cheeks togerher as the other one held your pretty pink phone. Your coat matched the phone, a baby pink as the rest of your ski kit was white which was the opposite of sukis. His coat was orange and his ski kit was black.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who doesn’t post on instagram or any social media app much apart from maybe once in a blue moon, but when you tagged him in that photo he reposted it obviously? But that was one of sukis big mistakes. Within an hour Denki was spamming his inbox of questions, sero dropped a like and a ‘who’s this??’ Paired with a suspicious faced emoji. Kirishima obviously knew of you. I mean katsuki hadn’t mean to tell him but one night you had phoned him while him and kiri studying so from that kirishima sorta had to know. And as a loyal friend he kept his red haired mouth shut!

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who has a deal with mina,sero and denkis stupid questions for the next three weeks, he shouted, refused and out right just walked away most the time.

BESTFRIENDkatsuki who sees you in the hallways quite a lot, your mouth always curves up when you spot him eyes sparkly as you give him one of your big smiles, it always makes his stupid cheeks feel hot and his heart mushy.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who had enough onenight and decided that when your family came over this weekend for the day he was going to confess. And that he did, with his heart in his hand you quickly swiped it up and hugged it until he felt like he was going to burst.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who finally told his friends after they kept asking everyday, their faces all confused and excited. To katsuki they were all annoying and weird.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who will never hide your relationship, he tells people your his bestfriend and his girlfriend.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who buys you random gifts whenever he sees something that reminds him of you or whenever you say your down.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who always invites you round for dinner and vide Versa.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who fiddles with your hair at night while your head sits on his thigh, sleepy breaths leaving your lips as your mind drifts off.

BOYFRIENDkatsuki who is an amazing boyfriend but an even better bestfriend.

[moonstonejpg]

thinking about getting drunk with friends at a club after you fought with fwb!bakugou.

you’re absolutely plastered, and then you lose your friends and bump into kirishima, who leads you outside, tapping away on his phone while he slides his arm around your waist to make sure you don’t stumble (yes he cares about you, but if you have a single scratch on you when bakugou shows up, the blonde might raze the entire town to the ground).

bakugou rolls up minutes later, exchanging a few murmured words with his friend before he’s scooping you up and depositing you into the passenger seat. he clicks the seatbelt around you and stalks to the drivers side, sliding in and zooming down the road.

“are you mad?” you slur, tilting your head to the side to look at him. his hands are wrapped around the wheel, his fingers tightly grasping the black leather.

the fingers that were pumping gently inside of you only days prior—

“no, I just wish you’d be more careful,” he says, voice low. you squint at him through the thick alcohol tinged fog in your brain, your teeth digging into your lower lip. “I was being—”

“you were alone in a fucking club, where anything could have happened to you! if kirishima wasn’t there…”

“but he was.” you say quietly, eyes still locked on him.

he shakes his head, irritation flashing across his face.

“if something happened to you and I wasn’t there, I would never forgive myself. be mad at me, go to clubs and get drunk; hook up with whoever the fuck you want. just…come back to me in one piece, got it?”

the words are like an arrow through your chest, and you flinch. “I don’t want anyone else but you,” you admit quietly, closing your eyes and moving to curl up against the door, your head resting gently against the window.

you fall asleep within minutes, your words leaving the blonde speechless as he drives you both back to his place.

[lullabylovers]

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 had been mindlessly scrolling on his phone, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, your legs tucked under his thigh. the tv droned on in the background—some stupid hero analysis show he pretended not to watch but definitely did.

you however were staring hard.

bakugo noticed after the third minute. “the hell is wrong with your face?” he snapped without looking up. “you got a problem or somethin’?”

you didn’t answer. your eyes stayed glued to his chest. that stupidly broad, muscular chest beneath his tank top.

bakugo glanced down at himself, then back at you. “why’re you lookin’ at me like that? i ain’t got food on me.”

no fucks given you blurted out, “have you ever noticed that your moobs are bigger than my boobs?”

bakugo slowly turned his head to you. vermillion eyes narrowed, a vein popping, jaw twitching. “what.”

you winced. “i’m sorry—”

he shot up from the couch so fast you yelped, scrambling backward. “what did you just say?”

“i didn’t mean it in a bad way!” you rushed out, hands flying. “it’s just, your chest is really big? and mine are normal? and my brain connected dots before i could stop it—”

“moobs?” he barked. “you’re callin’ these—” he grabbed his own chest aggressively, flexing without meaning to. “—moobs?”

you swallowed. “they’re very impressive moobs?”

that was it.

bakugo grabbed a pillow and chucked it at your head. “get up. c’mere.”

“for what—”

before you could finish, he yanked you up by the wrist and plopped you right back down on his lap. “touch ’em,” he growled.

your brain short-circuited. “i—what?”

“touch ’em,” he repeated, shoving his chest forward. “go on. see if they jiggle. bet they don’t.”

you hesitated before you pressed your palms lightly against his chest. it was nothing, but very much muscle. “okay,” you admitted quietly. “yeah. that’s definitely not moobs.”

“damn right,” he muttered, smug as hell. then he glanced at you sideways. “yours are still nice though.”

your head snapped up. “really?”

“don’t get cocky,” he added quickly, ears turning red. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”

you smiled sweetly. “so you have noticed.”

he groaned, slumping back into the couch. “i’m dating an idiot.”

“and yet,” you teased, curling into his side, “you love this idiot.”

he clicked his tongue. he muttered something not so nice to himself. but his strong arms engulfed you anyway.

[katsukiib]

Tight Muscles ɞ·˚ KB

"Fuck.." His groans muffled into the soft pillow, the word vibrating deep in his chest. His fingers gripped the bedsheets, knuckles white and trembling. "Right there, baby—damn it.."

Another strangled noise left him, a mix of a moan and a pained hiss that sounded too close to a plea.

To anyone standing outside the door, the constant shifting of the mattress and Katsuki's breathless, foul-mouthed praises would have painted a very specific, scandalous picture.

He sounded completely undone, pushed to the limit of his self-control.

"Don't stop." He rasped, his voice cracking as his eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, Y/N.. You're killing me here.."

Y/N sat firmly on the small of his back, her knees braced on either side of his powerful thighs. She focused only on the tight knots beneath her hands, rubbing the spots on his shoulders that a professional would have missed.

Katsuki was always sore from his training, but today the hero work finally caught up to him. He was so stiff he could barely move, lying flat on his stomach while his wife worked on his back. What would he do without her..

She put all her weight into her thumbs, digging into the stubborn knots, earning yet another groan from him.

"Shut up and breathe, Katsuki." She spoke softly, unable to hide her smirk.

"I am breathing!" He barked back into the pillow, though it ended in a sharp grunt as she found a particularly nasty trigger point right between his shoulder blades. "Holy—shit—your hands.. How the hell are you doing that?"

Y/N didn't answer, sliding her palms down the broad expanse of his back, using the heat of her skin to soothe his flared nerves.

She worked carefully but firmly, rubbing his shoulders and the muscles down his back. Katsuki let out a long, shaky exhale, his entire frame finally beginning to sink into the mattress.

His loud swearing turned into quiet groans of relief. He usually hated losing control, but under her soft hands, he was more than happy to give in.

© katsukiib ʚ♡ɞ do not steal, edit, or copy my work! ♡

[heartkaji]

❥you & bakugo won’t say you’re dating, but there will be signs

BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #1.

observed by — mina ashido

“y/n says she and bakugo aren’t dating. but i swear i caught them playing footsies during study hall.”

⟡

mina assumes it’s a trick of the light.

sero’s stalking hot moms on facebook. denki & kiri are trying to start a fire with a comically large magnifying glass. & when mina sees bakugo tickle your ankle with the toe of his sock, mina’s quick to assume the sight’s caused by the refractive index of light through the magnifying glass or whatever mumbo-jumbo they learned during last tuesday’s physics class.

but it happens again.

and this time you giggle.

and so mina has no choice but to accept magnifying glasses cannot bend sound.

mina puts on sero’s eyeglasses. they’re purely decorative, but she feels more intuitive regardless. she buries her nose between CGP’s A-Level biology guide & pretends she isn’t observing the way your eyes glint anytime you manage to nick katsuki in the shins.

bakugo’s face is stone still.

to the untrained eye, he’s simply solving calculus questions a mile a minute. but then he grunts.

mina doesn’t miss the way he grins when he nabs you in the thigh.

BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #2.

observed by — sero hanta

‘bakugo swears y/n isn’t anyone special to him. so why the hell does he have her contact saved as ‘mine?’

⟡

the first time sero hanta ever decides to show up early, he’s stuck waiting at a theatre with an angry bakugo at his side.

not to say the fiery blond isn’t usually angry. but this time said anger comes with heat: he’s grinding straw between his molars so hard plastic cracks between his teeth. his feet tap like it’ll make time go by sooner. it doesn’t.

“i’m gonna kill that damn shitty hair.”

“we’re the ones who’re thirty minutes early.”

“shut the fuck up.”

dumb dog sero hanta does as he’s told. katsuki stews a little longer, neck rash red, phone clicking locked & unlocked till he decides he’s had enough—or till the anger reaches his bladder. “‘m going to the bathroom, watch my shit.”

katsuki doesn’t bother waiting for a reply. his hands shove in his pockets as he makes his way to the bathroom, phone tucked firm between sero’s palms. sero hanta knows better than to hold it with anything less than an iron grip. but then it buzzes—& almost cartoonishly, the phone hops & skips before settling between his fingers

sero sees the notification before he can pretend otherwise.

mine🫀: mina and i are otw

mine🫀 : hope we’ll make it. this girl can NOT drive.

sero muffles a snort. the text holds truth, mina cannot, in fact drive. he recalls the time she picked him up to go to the beach and—wait.

is that text from y/n?

he’s quick to take a picture, send it to the ‘inBESTigators 🕵️🔍’ GC. before he can even close his phone & resume playing saint, kiri’s response comes in.

ripped riot 🔥: could be a typo

ripped riot 🔥: like ‘mine’ could be short for miner

pikachu ⚡️[replying to ripped riot 🔥] : are we deadass

sero’s about to type a response of his own before the familiar heavy steps of steve maddens sag at his ears. katsuki’s back, jaw tight & angrier than ever.

further investigation will have to wait.

BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #3.

observed by — denki kaminari

‘when the fuck did bakugo get funny?’

⟡

autumn break means thanksgiving shopping & black friday sales that make twelve dollar products drop to eleven ninety-nine. denki’s shopping for snacks, kiri needs energy drinks & you’re here for produce. katsuki is here because you all need his membership to get into costco.

something isn’t right.

& denki’s not talking about how the price of cheetos have somehow gone up. he’s talking about the fact that katsuki stands firm behind you, hands in pockets as you show him fruit. that’s fine—bakugo’s always been able to tell which apples are good & which aren’t.

but no apple evaluation requires katsuki to lean in that close.

and denki’s pretty sure there’s nothing funny about granny smiths either.

so why the fuck are you giggling ?

kaminari’s eyes flit to katsuki’s. if he was any other classmate, he’d say katsuki was bored. lips tight, eyes neutral, jaw slack. but denki’s no other classmate. he recognizes that twitch in his brow. the bob in his jugular.

katsuki is pleased. at least, denki thinks—no, swears he is. but just to be safe, he chooses to call in an actual katsuki expert. kirishima’s fatass is trying yet another free sample. for the sake of peace, denki chooses not to comment & instead goes straight to business.

“yo, kiri—i’m not seeing stuff, right? is bakugo not smirking and making y/n laugh??”

kirishima, in true fatass fashion, responds with a mouth filled with mini tacos. “I down’t see ‘t”

“bro. chew.”

“I don’t see it,” kiri gulps. “don’t you think we should respect their privacy?”

“we’re at a costco??”

but kaminari drops it. if the katsuki expert himself says there’s nothing, there’s obviously nothing.

right ?

BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #4.

observed by — literally everyone

‘katsuki and y/n are definitely dating. oh, and kiri’s getting kicked from the group chat.’

⟡

mina ashido is not playing around.

the rest of the gang isn’t either. kaminari’s flipping through a scrapbook titled ‘PHOTOGRAPHICAL EVIDENCE.’ sero’s screenshotting group chat messages that sound too fond to not be affectionate. kirishima’s got his laptop open, looking over ‘evidence spreadsheets’ he swears aren’t empty.

but they are. and mina, rivaled only by sherlock himself, notices.

“kirishima, cell B-4. what’s written in there ?”

“I—uh, cell? what do you—“

“aha—” mina shuts her book. she’s towering over eijiro now, hands on her hips & glare so sharp it melts kiri like—well, acid.

“you’re not really doing anything.”

sero lifts a brow. kaminari gives the stink-eye.

“matter of fact…” mina continues, “you haven’t done anything. compiling evidence. listening in on on their convos. you haven’t done anything we’ve asked you to.”

“yeah,” sero quips. his phone’s in his lap now. “matter of fact, you always had some excuse about why you couldn’t.”

“matter of fact,” denki joins, “you’re always trying to deny evidence. talking about us ‘being delusional’.”

oh, kirishima’s in trouble now. blood in his jugular. tar in his throat. “I—“

mina can’t make up what happens next.

The door opens. It’s katsuki—not surprising—they’re literally all seated in a circle on the mat in his dorm. plans to hang out & just chill today—the usual. kiri is bakugo’s roommate. getting in isn’t a fuss.

but you’re right beside bakugo.

and your finger’s in his belt loop.

mina blinks. you haven’t noticed them yet. you look all calm and pretty, lashes low, eyes glued to your phone screen. your finger’s looped around the belt-hole like you’ve done it a thousand times before, and—

is that katsuki’s hoodie?

“what the fuck are you losers doing here?”

kiri’s already scrambling to defend the situation—something about she & the others showing up an hour early, he didn’t know, don’t blast us all—but mina’s not listening. she’s wondering if the refractive index of light is so strong it somehow made it look like katsuki gave your hand a light squeeze before tapping your hand off his jeans.

you’re still quiet behind him. hair all cute, jam-pink cheeks, fawn freckled & doe-eyed. kiri and katsuki are going back and forth. sero’s joined in. kaminari’s farted because he thinks no one will notice.

“y/n, is that bakugo’s hoodie?”

you can hear a pin drop. and another fart from kaminari.

“no, it’s—“

“it’s mine.” katsuki steps forward, hands in pockets & posture lazy like he didn’t say something scandalous. “got a problem, pinkie pie?”

“i could never.”

katsuki hums. he tugs you gently by the palm, door clicking shut behind him with the kick of his shin. he trudges toward the group, right hand in his pocket, left in yours—and he murmurs a quiet sit in your ear before doing a once-over.

“what’s all this?”

“evidence.”

“homework.”

“not evidence.”

tongue click. “evidence of ?”

“the refractive index of light.”

“you and y/n dating.”

“not you and y/n dating.”

“uh-huh,” katsuki picks up a photograph. he recognizes the scene: you’re tucked in his side, showing him something on your phone while he leans too close to be considered casual. you’re giggling here. cute.

he pockets it. “you guys are a bunch of fuckin’ idiots. and you—“ he turns to kirishima,

“no, no bro listen,” kirishima’s palm rests on his neck, an apologetic glance in your direction before he answers, “I did try to get them to leave you guys alone. they wouldn’t listen!”

“aha! so you were a traitor!”

bakugo glares. mina shrinks.

a muffled giggle pierces the silence. then a snort. & now you’re full on laughing—

“oh my god,” you sniffle, “you guys know we were literally gonna tell you, right?”

“tell us when?” sero speaks up, long moved away from kaminari. “it seems kiri here already knew about it.”

bakugo grunts. “why do you idiots think you’re here?”

oh.

bakugo takes a seat beside you. sero’s avoiding eye contact. kaminari’s avoiding the cheetos. mina bites her lip. you’re leaning over katsuki’s thigh now, photo evidence flip-book in your hands. you’re pointing out familiar photos while laughing & shaking your head, and bakugo’s looking back with a gaze so soft that mina doesn’t know how she didn’t see it sooner.

“i think we owe you two an apology.”

katsuki’s got his fingers twisting your knuckle. “y’think?”

sero, mina, and denki all look towards each other.

“we’re sorry.”

“for what?”

“for stalking you guys.”

“and not trusting that you’d tell us.”

“and being idiots.”

katsuki hums, satisfied. but he’s not done yet. he leans back on his palms before gently poking your hip. “should we forgive ‘em?”

“maybe. if they can send some of these photos.”

bakugo nods, turns to mina. “you heard the missus.”

“girl, take the whole book. like—seriously. omg.”

you hug it towards your chest, and mina can tell bakugo’s fighting a smile.

“right. and since you guys know now, you can all leave.”

the three protest. kiri interrupts. “i think it’s for the best. it’s been a long day.”

“that includes you, shitty hair.”

“huh—what?! this is my room too!”

“don’t care,” katsuki tugs you up with him, grip gentle, palm flat against your back as he steers you towards his bed.

“and didn’t ask,” he glances over his shoulder, “all of you, out.”

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[serotonins-stuff]

Clingy | K.Bakugo | Fluff

"Katsuki...baby, I'm on the toilet."

Like a stubborn guard dog, he just stands there — spiky blond strands peeking through the somewhat open door. "So did ya want sugar or honey in your cereal?"

"What I want," Your sigh bounces off the bathroom walls. "Is to pee in peace."

He blinks slowly, like you've picked the wrong dialogue option.

And yeah — he’s not moving until you pick one.

The correct one.

You scoff through playful annoyance. "I'll take brown sugar today."

"Got it." He replies and swiftly shuts the door on the way out.

Yet his footsteps don't fade away, and you’re only able to savour a moment before a knock echoes through.

"Yes?"

You’ve only been gone a few minutes. But he's acting like the world is ending, and now is the only time he has to confirm your breakfast requests.

He swears it's because 'everything has to be perfect' by the time you come out.

But you're more than aware that he just doesn’t like the prolonged silence — especially when it’s shaped like you not being there.

"You want our usual bowls or the new ones?" he asks.

It's adorable. The big and scary Lord Explosion Murderer God Dynamight reduced to hovering in the doorway like an NPC waiting for the next prompt. "The new ones, Kats."

With that, his shadow finally dips away — footsteps receding. But you don't stop giggling to yourself.

You come out to cereal poured, milk measured, spoon placed just so.

He pretends that it's nothing.

But somehow, everything is always perfect when you’re around.

M.list

[eikyuunimain-deactivated2026051]

husband!katsuki who always stares at your ring when he’s holding your hand. runs his thumb over it while you talk, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. sees it glinting in the sunlight while you nap on his chest and gets a tight, hot feeling in his chest like he could die happy right now.

husband!katsuki who never learned how to rest until he had you. comes home from patrol with tension in his shoulders, drops his bag by the door, and doesn’t relax until you kiss his jaw and say, “welcome home, baby.”

husband!katsuki who folds your laundry with his earbuds in, grumbling through it—but tucks your socks together in neat little pairs and always puts your favourite shirt on top. wipes down the bathroom sink. buys extra of your shampoo without asking. won’t say he likes domestic shit. but he does. because it means you’re not going anywhere.

husband!katsuki who can’t keep his hands off you when you wear his shirts. walks by and smacks your ass, pulls you into his lap, nuzzles into your shoulder with a low “you tryin’ to get fucked on the couch or what?” like he’s joking—except he’s already pushing the fabric up your thighs.

husband!katsuki who still growls when you tease him—but melts the second you say “be nice to your wife.” groans low, grabs your hips, mutters “fuckin’ cheat code, you know that?” while dragging his mouth down your stomach.

husband!katsuki who fucks you rougher now that you’re married. not meaner. just deeper. slower. like he has something to prove. like he wants you to feel it when you walk the next day. says “s’what you get for marryin’ me, huh?” with his fingers in your mouth and his cock buried to the base. like this is just part of the deal now.

[simillia]

yours truly ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ bakugou katsuki.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── synopsis

after moving into a modest apartment complex, the last thing you expected was to discover that your grumpy, sharp-tongued neighbor is none other than dynamight, the notoriously explosive pro-hero himself. what begins as casual elevator chats and the occasional help with groceries takes a turn when a date gone wrong leaves you in tears outside the building, and him stepping in without hesitation. from there, a burning connection unfolds.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── warning

afab! reader, no smut; just a hint of something spicy. adult! characters, pro-hero bakugou, soft pining, romance, grumpy-meets-sunshine trope; strangers to lovers romance trope. neighbor! reader & neighbor! bakugou. extreme sweetness; heavy fluff, with a dose of comedic charm, impromptu warmth and a hint of sarcasm.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── inspired by this wonderful art by @miggiisdumb follow and support, her work is great.

To put it quite frankly, you had been on the fence about moving to an entirely different city after a year of preparing for a promising career change. Not because you weren’t appreciative of the opportunity—this had been the greatest thing to have happened since graduating from college—but because it was an experience that came with significant change.

Adaptation wasn’t the issue here. Committing to an environment where you knew nobody else, is.

The feeling isn’t entirely unfamiliar. It just took a few weeks, give or take, to fully accept. But once it settled, you were more than ready to dive in, headfirst.

And thankfully, the apartment complex you chose was magnificent, modest, but absolutely stunning. It certainly made the pill easier to swallow. Especially now, with the incredible salary increase, you could finally afford something more comfortable; at least by your standards. It had only been a few days since you moved in, settling into a corner unit just beneath a set of condos that luxuriously occupied the top floor.

With hardly any time between moving everything in and attempting to get situated, you hadn’t even purchased groceries. Which is why you were currently standing in the lobby, half-asleep, hoodie lopsided, flip-flops smacking against the tile; waiting patiently for the elevator, arms heavy with crinkling plastic bags from a convenience store run at two in the morning. Perhaps going this late had been a mistake, or possibly a stroke of genius. It was hard to tell when you were juggling three packs of instant ramen, a bag of sour gummies, some chips, and two volumes of a shoujo manga you definitely didn’t need.

And as fate—or the universe, or some overworked celestial intern—would have it, this would be the exact moment you met the finest man in the entire complex. Perhaps the entire planet. While looking like you’d been rotting in bed since Tuesday.

They say first impressions are everything. A silent but lasting judgment, stamped onto you the moment someone lays eyes. And in this fleeting instant, it took less than a second for you to be seen as the resident weirdo. Which, clearly, wasn’t the kind of impression you’d hoped to leave on anyone outside of work. But lo’ and behold, it happened. Starting the moment the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. You stepped inside without so much a thought, more focused on not dropping anything than on checking your surroundings. Arms full and vision partially blocked by plastic bags, you fumbled to press the button for your floor, mumbling quiet curses under your breath.

Then, without a word, a hand reached out and pressed the button marked 9, the movement so swift you flinched, startled by the realization that you weren’t alone.

“Thanks,” you offered, flashing a polite smile over your shoulder.

That’s when you saw him.

A tall, really tall, man who had been built like a battering ram, standing just behind you, dressed head to toe in black tactical gear. His collar sat low on his neck, clinging to the sheen of sweat that slicked his skin. Damp blonde hair curled near his forehead, and the faint scent of smoke lingered in the narrow space between you. His eyes were a sharp crimson, shining brighter than rubies—as they flicked to you, unimpressed and dragging over you in a slow sweep that felt more like a judgment than a glance.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared.

And somehow, that said plenty.

With a sharp jawline and heavy-lidded eyes, he wore exhaustion like armor. It was a weariness that suggested the day had gone, at least, twelve rounds with him and almost won. If looks could kill, his would’ve cleared out a building. Or, at the very least, cause you to nearly drop every last one of your bags.

“Wait,” you blurted before your brain could catch up. “Aren’t you…?”

This question was self-explanatory and didn’t need an answer. You’d seen that face enough times on the news, splashed across headlines, or caught mid-detonation in grainy footage to know that he was, in fact, the Dynamight. One of the top pro-heroes in the country. A living explosion with a public temper and a hero license to match.

But up close with keys clenched between his teeth and a duffel bag sliding off one shoulder, he didn’t look like a menace.

Yes, he held an atypical scowl but he just looked tired.

And big. Definitely big.

Even slightly hunched under the weight of his gear, with gauntlets dangling from his other shoulder like boxing gloves, his biceps looked like they were on the verge of starting a fight with his sleeves.

“Tch,” his tongue clicks, side-eyeing you with perplexing precision. “Don’t tell me you’re a fan or some shit.”

“It’s hard not to be when you’re always on the news.”

That gets you a sharp snort as he shifts his weight onto one leg, arms crossed over his chest in that way that screams don’t get comfortable. The elevator hums softly around you, fluorescent lights flickering a little overhead. You swear the silence between floors drags a second too long.

“Yeah, well—,” he mutters, glancing at the elevator buttons like they’re the real enemy here. “People love watchin’ shit blow up.”

“That must make you a real box office hit.”

“Sure. Whatever you say,” he didn’t even look at you when he answered, voice low and edged with a bite—but there was a smugness under it too, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just don’t go expectin’ any autographs.”

“I’d manage just fine. Though I’d probably make a pretty penny pawning off your signature.”

The quip earned you the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was almost fighting showing a glimpse of his teeth. Still it counts as a win, if you were keeping score. Knowing someone in the building—especially someone not totally allergic to conversation—might not be the worst thing.

“Real fuckin’ cute,” he mutters, more gruff and amused than flirty. “You always talk this much, or just when you’re stuck in a metal box with a pro?”

Lifting a brow, your arms tightening slightly around your grocery bags. “Only when said ‘pro’ nearly scares me into dropping three cups of instant ramen.”

His gaze flicks to the bags, then back to you. “At two in the goddamn morning?”

“I was hungry,” you shrug. “Hope that’s not a crime.”

He clicks his tongue again, but you catch the way his eyes narrow—not angry, more curious now. Maybe just squinting at the absurdity of this shared moment.

Then the elevator dings, sliding open on your floor. You move to step out, but his boots echo behind you.

“Hmm? Don’t tell me…”

He jerks his chin toward the hallway, “9C.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, striding ahead without so much as a glance back. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with, so try not to be another pain in my fuckin’ ass.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say back, jaw slack with pure amusement. “And here I thought the worst thing about this city would be the traffic.”

He snorts, tossing a look over his shoulder, “Keep talkin’, smartass. I’ll have a noise complaint in before you even finish unpackin’.”

Then his hand lifts in a lazy wave as he slides his key into the lock, clearly at home and completely unbothered. The door shuts behind him with a decisive thunk. And despite yourself, you grin. Still standing in the hall with a bag full of junk food, and already one story deep into the chaos that is your new neighbor.

In Bakugou’s defense, none of this was ever meant to become a habit. But scientifically speaking, fate isn’t something he can regulate; it’s a force of nature with a will of its own. And lately, it’s been working overtime to make you a recurring fixture in his day. Sometimes, in the smallest, stickiest ways.

Each encounter usually starts with you catching the elevator doors with that slippered foot of yours, smiling up at him, chatting about nothing: bad office coffee, some new ramen place a few blocks down, how that damn mailman kept mixing their packages up. He never said much. Mostly watched. But sometimes he’d grunt in agreement, or pull an earbud out when you got particularly animated.

Sometimes, he even helped you carry your groceries—in those rare moments you’d actually went shopping—always wearing a scowl. Like it pissed him off how heavy the bags were. With all that muscle mass, they weren’t. But who would he be if he acted like he enjoyed it?

This time around, though, it was purely accidental. Completely uncalled for.

Another elevator run-in. With you, looking so fucking pretty, it is actually annoying, humming to yourself, laundry basket hitched at the hip in the lobby. And when the doors dinged open ahead, it felt like an angel had been revealed to the world.

He fucking hated it.

“Look at that,” you grinned, pulling an earbud out. “Fate strikes again.”

He didn’t even try to hide the annoyance, already jabbing the “door close” button like it owed him lunch money.

“Tch. More like bad fuckin’ luck.”

But you stepped into the elevator anyway, cheerful as ever. “Mm. Sure. Or maybe you’ve just got my schedule memorized.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered. “This dumb ass elevator just hates me.”

Adjusting the basket, you gave a soft huff, “Well, lucky for you, I come bearing fresh-dried towels and small talk.”

His eyes flickered down to the basket like it personally insulted him; and hell yeah it did. Because why the fuck are you carrying anything in his presence? “Give it here. You’re goin’ to throw your back out carrying that shit by yourself.”

“Should I thank you for caring so much about my spinal health?”

“Shut up,” he scoffed, reaching to take the basket from you with one hand like it weighed nothing. “Don’t make it weird.”

The snicker that came from those lips, plump, glossed-up, and so damn soft looking, made his stomach turn, eyes narrow and heart race.

“Didn’t take you for the chivalrous type.”

He turned away from you, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. It was so easy for you to tease him, and that infuriated his heart in a gentle way. “Keep fuckin’ yappin’ and I’ll throw your towels down the damn stairwell.”

“You wouldn’t dare. That’s premium detergent you’re threatening.”

The elevator jerked to a stop at their floor, and he stepped out first, still holding your basket like it was his sworn duty now. He didn’t wait or look back— he knew you were trailing after him, arms folded behind your back with a curious look directed toward him.

“You know, if this keeps up, I might start thinking you like running into me.”

He shot a glare over his shoulder—maybe he did, maybe he didn’t—eyes narrowing more, “You tryin’ to piss me off?”

“I’m just getting started.”

He muttered something under his breath, a gentle pain in my ass, while waiting at your door, shifting the basket to one arm while you fumbled with your keys.

In all his time living in this complex, no one had ever caught his interest. All his previous neighbors were idiots; extras in a world way too big for them. Some were stalkers, others were fans, and the rest? Just plain fucking boring. He didn’t care. None of them mattered. Until you, the elevator weirdo, moved in. Now, for some reason, he can’t stop wanting to matter to you; can’t stop wanting to be relevant in your world. He grumbled all the time about these stupid ass emotions. Because to him, the shit is wack as hell. But at this point, what can he do?

“Thanks,” you say quietly, taking the basket back once the door swung open.

“Yeah. Whatever,” his eyes met yours for a beat too long before he turned, striding off down the hallway, earbuds back in, hand raised lazily over his shoulder like punctuation.

And when he heard you step into your apartment—he hoped you were grinning stupidly, heart racing—because, though he wasn’t smiling, his own damn heart was pounding. There was always this softness that settled in after the two of you talked. Like you were holding something delicate and didn’t wanna drop it. It hadn’t even been that long since you moved in, and yet fuck. Was he suddenly developing some kind of weird ass emotional disease?

Not that he could ever think of you like that, but—well, shit—he wasn’t blind. He saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted him. Felt how easy it was to fall into a rhythm with you, banter came naturally to both of you without even trying. It was stupid. Dangerous. And yet, for someone with a personality intense enough to make most people keep their distance; he didn’t mind seeing you. Didn’t mind those few minutes between floors. Maybe even looked forward to them. Even if it did only exist in the confines of elevator talk.

About three days later, what began as a harmless distraction ended up serving as a harsh reminder that instincts exist for a reason. It started with a drink and a smile before turning into an awful gut feeling the moment he referred to himself as an ‘alpha male’. Unironically, this would be the first date you’d been on in months and it was already a complete disaster. He laughed at the wrong moments, touched your waist even after you flinched, and tossed out a crude remark he had the nerve to call a compliment.

He is everything Bakugou Katsuki isn’t, and that is a compliment to the explosive hero himself. Because despite all his rough edges, you’d come to terms with one undeniable truth: you were utterly attracted to him and not this vile man sitting in front of you right now.

It was the reason you decided to go on a date to begin with. To try to shake this impending crush you had.

Not that it actually mattered.

He was the boy next door—well, more like the smoldering, broad-shouldered pro-hero who lived one apartment over—and you? Just a regular woman working a 9-to-5, trying to keep her life in order. A relationship like that could never work… right? Or maybe you were just overthinking it. Psyching yourself out before giving it a shot, too afraid of rejection, or too afraid of ruining whatever fragile, budding connection the two of you actually had.

Time couldn’t have dragged any slower. Some distraction this turned out to be. Eventually, you made a flimsy excuse, bailed, and practically sprinted home in heels. But, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, the psycho followed you.

Right up to the front of your building where he forcefully grabbed your arm.

“Why’d you run off like that, baby? We were just getting to the good part,” it was meant to be endearing but it only made you cringe in disgust.

“What the hell? Let me go,” you snapped, heart pounding loud in your ears. You tried to pull away, but his fingers clamped tighter, digging into your skin.

He leaned in closer, breath sour with whiskey. “C’mon, don’t be like that. You were flirting all night. What, suddenly you’re too good now?”

In that moment, your stomach flipped and panic clawed its way up your throat like a noose tightening with every breath. This isn’t just an awkward date anymore. This is dangerous.

“You’re drunk,” you reason, voice trembling despite your best effort to sound firm. “Go home and sleep this off before I have to call the police.”

He just smiled wider, like it was all a game. The glint in his eye made one thing painfully clear: he didn’t think you’d actually do anything about it. And maybe—maybe he was right. You would’ve stayed frozen there, caught in the moment, heart rattling like a warning siren in your chest if not for the voice that cut through the air behind you.

“Oi.”

One word barked out in a warning.

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doin’, huh?”

As if he were the sun cutting through clouds after a storm. There emerged, Bakugou Katsuki, looming and furious, wearing sweatpants and a tight fitted tank top, with eyes glowing like embers. His pace was slow, almost lethal. There was something predatory in the way he moved, hands buried deep in his pockets, looking like he had just come back from an evening jog.

The guy stepped back immediately. Trying to look as innocent as possible while attempting to appear tough.

“Leave us alone, man. We’re having a private conversation here,” the sleazy guy bit out.

“That ain’t what it looked like to me,” Bakugou snapped back, voice low.

“It doesn’t really matter what it looked like to you. This is between me and her.”

Bakugou stopped a few paces away, head tilted slightly, and jaw flexing. His voice dropped even lower, almost calm, but somehow more menacing. Then he stepped in. Close enough to shift the air. Close enough for the guy to realize just how badly he’d fucked up.

“Hah. Nah, it’s between all of us now,” he cuts his eyes to you, sharp but waiting. “Still wanna deal with this fuckin’ loser?”

In response to his question, you quickly shook your head. That was all the confirmation he needed because then, the man couldn’t help but to flinch when Bakugou raised a hand, embers sparking off his palm with loud, crackling pops that matched the fury climbing up his spine.

His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes were burning.

“I’ll give you three seconds to fuck off before I make it real hard for you to walk away.”

The guy blinked, stumbled backwards before muttering something about you being “crazy” and “not worth it” then storming off in a rush of cowardice.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Bakugou muttered. The words were lethal, but they weren’t aimed at you.

After he left and the adrenaline ebbed into silence, is when you finally felt calm enough to release the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding until now. In fact, you just stood there, shoulders hunched, fists clenched tight at your sides.

Bakugou didn’t move right away either. He just stood there, with eyes sweeping over your face and body in a quick, practiced scan for any signs of damage. He did it so seamlessly, you almost didn’t notice. Must’ve been part of his pro-hero training. He exhaled slowly through his nose and you could tell he wanted to hit something. The twitch in his fingers gave it away. Suddenly, you wondered what he was thinking? When his eyes found yours again, that edge softened just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, rough and to the point.

In the moment, you didn’t answer. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe the answer was already written on your face.

He took a step toward you, then stopped short, he hesitated as if he didn’t trust himself not to scare you. The thought made his frown deepen.

“Hey,” his voice dropped, quieter now. “I’m talkin’ to you. You good?”

Another beat of silence passes before you shook your head, again, eyes burning.

Bakugou sighed and without another word, he stepped forward, gently pulled the strap of your bag off your shoulder, muttering:

“C’mon. I’m cookin’.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

This time around, the elevator ride remained silent. Neither of you, but mainly you, had much to say after that encounter earlier. Internally, you were grateful to have had a pro-hero as a neighbor. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Any second later and… the mere thought made you shiver. Who knew what would’ve happened.

When the doors opened to floor nine, he led the way, sticking a key in the lock before twisting the knob. In a gruff, rough-edged way, he chivalrously allowed you to walk ahead, telling you to leave your shoes at the door.

His apartment smelled of soap and charcoal, which could only be summed up as a direct result of his quick. Regardless, it is clean in a way yours could never quite managed to be. With the income he undoubtedly earned, every piece of furniture looked hand-made, wooden and modernized. He has a black ornate clock ticking steadily on the wall, a simple case of classic movies lined the shelf, and even his fridge—based on the quick glimpse you caught—is fully stocked.

Sitting on a stool at his kitchen island with a glass of water, you watched as he moved like an executive chef who’d cooked for thousands more times than you could imagine. Contrary to popular belief, there were no explosions, no yelling, not even a single mess. Just quiet control and simple peace.

Was this truly the same man you’d seen screaming his head off on television? In fact, the way he handled situations, the way he spoke to you, was rough but stripped of aggression. This is your neighbor, the one you really fucking liked.

He cooked you soba, setting the plate down in front of you with chopsticks hanging in the noodles like a flag.

“Eat,” he muttered. “And stop lookin’ at me like I’m ‘bout to bite you.”

His words made you smile, and you obeyed by taking a bite in hopes it’ll anchor you. The flavor profile is immense, like good—so, so good. This bowl stands to be the best thing you’d eaten in weeks. And although, he didn’t hover, he still leaned against the counter sipping tea, with eyes flicking to you like he couldn’t help himself. Maybe a part of him wanted to gauge your reaction, to observe genuine emotion.

“Thank you,” you say softly, after finishing the meal he so diligently prepared. “For stepping in. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”

“Don’t thank me, dumbass. I just got a knack for chasin’ off weirdos.”

“That you do,” you agree with a laugh, he also had a knack for making you laugh. “Who knew having a pro as a neighbor would come with such perks?”

“Tch,” his teeth clicks lightly. “Pro or not, nobody’s layin’ a fuckin’ hand on you while I’m around.”

His words touched you, truly. It made your heart race to the point you actually started to cry softly. The reality set in, and you were so incredibly lucky to have made such a wonderful connection. At the sight of tears, he winced, fumbling for tissues.

“Don’t start cryin’, damnit.”

After that, something shifted.

Bakugou had to give you his phone number. If going out on dates, which he fucking despised the idea of, was going to be part of your routine, he found it best to grant you permission to access him personally. He tried to justify it as protection, but honestly, his reasoning was more selfish than noble.

Was it bad that he wanted to talk to you outside that godforsaken elevator? He didn’t think so. And neither did you, because soon, you started making yourself comfortable by becoming a frequent in his life. It took a matter of seconds before you started crashing on his bed whenever you were too tired to walk down the hall. Sometimes, you’d insist on sleeping on the couch, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of letting his unexpected guest do so. He’d grown so accustomed to having you over, that he’d even leave a pillow fluffed up with extra blankets folded, waiting just in case.

He thought he’d get annoyed by your frequent texts, but it turned out to be the highlight of his day—especially when you sent those stupid-ass moving pictures or chatted about the little things.

His favorite is always about the elevator.

Pain In My Ass:

Not them finally fixing the metal box after a month…

Still can’t believe they had us walking up nine flights of stairs for that long.

read ✔️

He’d then respond, “Bet it breaks again tomorrow.”

Then you’d send a laughing emoji with this little quip:

Pain In My Ass:

Should we sue?

delivered ✔️

And slowly, slowly, he began to soften. He grumbled less, and smirked a bit more. He let you decorate his fridge with those dumb ass magnets you always seemed to find on clearance at the convenience store you loved so much. He let you call him by his first name, and you let him call you by yours. It felt familiar, as if he’d known you for a lifetime. And he reluctantly liked the sound of it rolling off his tongue.

Bakugou was shit at admitting it, but he actually fucking liked you. A bit too much. He’d been suppressing it for a while, but attraction, chemistry, and connection couldn’t be hidden in moments filled with intimacy—like right now, on a night you asked him over to watch a movie, and he’d taken over the kitchen like he always does, preparing an array of snacks.

“For someone who doesn’t live here, you’ve got a real habit of acting like this is your place,” you teased with a smile, watching him pace around.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention.

“If you stocked your damn fridge, I wouldn’t have to.”

He constantly fussed at you for your lack of food, but always mentally created a grocery list, knowing he’d make it his mission to have it filled by the next evening.

“I’ll just start charging you rent since you seem to greatly dislike my limited grocery spend.”

He snorted, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet. “Yeah? Then I’ll pawn off those shitty magnets on my fridge to cover it.”

Laughter rang through the air at his response, and you lightly smacked his shoulder. “I thought you liked them?”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered, lips tugging into a smirk. “But I put up with ‘em ‘cause they’re yours.”

He avoided looking at you directly, pretending to focus on the snacks, but the slight curl at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. The banter, the conversation, nothing ever seemed to falter with you. Not many people got his sense of humor, nor did they grasp his personality.

But you, fucking you, read him perfectly. And he appreciated that more than he’d ever admit.

As you kept talking, he placed some final touches on the food and slid a plate toward you. His eyes, watchful as always, stayed locked on you as you took a bite. The hum that slipped from your throat when the flavor hit made his pulse spike in an uncontrollable wave, much like a fuse hissing down to detonation.

“It’s so good,” you murmured, already snagging another bite.

“Damn right it is.”

Bakugou meant to leave it at that. He really did. But when his hand lifted to brush a crumb from the corner of your mouth, the atmosphere shifted, suddenly turning sensual. He couldn’t resist the temptation of your lips—so soft to the touch and pleasant to look at. His thumb lingered too long, dragging against the plumpness of your lower lip before he pulled his hand back, jaw clenched tight.

Fuck.

FUCKKKKKK.

He shouldn’t want this so badly. But you were standing right there, lips practically begging for him. If that wasn’t enough, there were your eyes too, locked on his like you could see every thought running through his head. He hated how easy it was for you to undo him, how much he wanted to drown in you. His gaze dropped again, lingering on the way your mouth parted as you breathed. He could almost picture it: how you’d taste, and how you’d sound when he finally kissed you.

Then you leaned in, just barely, perhaps without even realizing it. But regardless, it was enough.

A curse tore from him as he closed the space, crashing his mouth against yours. This kiss was a mixture of everything—rough, messy, charged with the restraint that had been silently breaking for months. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb pressing firm against your cheek as if to pin you in place, to make sure you couldn’t slip away now that he had you.

And you kissed him back just as desperately, clutching at him like you had been starving too.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to regain control, trying to remind himself to stop before he went too far. Pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, eyes dark with restraint.

“Katsuki,” you murmured, tilting your chin up to kiss him again. This time, your hand fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. Your insistence made a low growl escape him. “I really like you.”

“Tch,” he froze for half a second, struggling against the chaos you’d unleashed, before giving it up entirely. “You’re really something,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “I like you too, idiot.”

The next kiss was fiercer, hungrier, desperate in a way that left both of you reeling. Hands tangled in each other’s hair, hearts slamming, lips colliding again and again. Time had denied you this euphoric experience long enough, and now it erupted into one impossible, burning instant.

“Wait—,” you laugh, pulling back, and he lets you, only to dip lower, pressing hot kisses down your neck and nipping at your bare shoulder. “What about our movie?”

“Why the hell do you care about some shitty movie right now?” he mutters against your neck, smirking when you shiver.

“Guess you’ve got a point,” you tease. “But you’re going to have to prove you’re worth missing the ending for.”

“Heh,” he smirks against your skin, teeth scraping your shoulder. “I’ll have you forgettin’ about it in ten fuckin’ seconds.”

He smirks, grabs you like you weigh nothing, and tosses you over his shoulder. Striding past the couch without a second glance at the untouched snacks and abandoned movie, he carries you upstairs—your laughter mixing with his low, satisfied chuckle.

In no way, shape, or form did you ever expect to feel so blissfully at peace with the most passionate man on planet earth. Everything Bakugou Katsuki did was never half-assed, and that included his love. Every heartbeat felt synchronized, and the world would fall away every time his lips found yours. The intention hadn’t been to fall in love, let alone so seamlessly. But somehow it had come to this point where everything just fell together.

Groceries were still an unspoken shared duty, mainly one-sided with Bakugou grumbling as he hauled the heavier bags and you teasing him mercilessly.

“Y’know, you could probably bench press the whole building,” you’d joke.

“Shut up,” he’d snort, one eyebrow raised, though secretly you knew he liked the praise.

The elevator remained a stage for your endless chatter, small talk now punctuated with laughter and a quiet, comfortable familiarity. On late patrol nights you’d wait for him in the lobby, a huge smile on your face. He’d want to hear about your day, and you’d tell him everything—whether it was complaining about the office or recounting some absurd city mishap.

He listened, muttering a single gruff word of acknowledgment, occasionally cracking the tiniest smirk when your stories grew ridiculous.

And then there were the little moments that made your chest tighten and your stomach flip with quiet wonder. Like when the lights flickered one evening and your hand instinctively found his. How he didn’t pull away, but held it firm, like it was his job to keep you safe—and always had been.

Being with him like this, amid the domestic chaos, the soft quiet, the everyday intimacy, was something you never could have imagined when you first stepped into that elevator. The man who once radiated fire and scowls now let his walls down just enough for you to see him fully. And in turn, you realized that you didn’t need grand gestures to feel sparks.

Sometimes he caught you staring, eyes lingering too long on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his broad shoulders, the way his hands moved when he cooked or carried your bags. He’d clear his throat, scowl, and mutter,

“Don’t get all sappy on me,” but his fingers would brush against yours anyway, a quiet reassurance that needed no words.

It felt good to love him. And to know he loved you too—because he’d said it first, with that gruff certainty that made your heart ache. Being his was unpredictable, but perfect. Being yours was the softest thing about him.

And in a world that was always loud, explosive, and uncertain, this quiet, reckless, tender space was yours.

Together.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── the end.

authors’ ending note: if you made it to the end, hello! this was me trying my hand at a cutesy romantic comedy, so hopefully it didn’t suck and ya’ll actually enjoyed the sweetness.

[missdynamighttt]

i am NOT done yapping about how in love husband! katsuki is with his dear wife.

you were curled up on the couch later that night, katsuki’s arm draped around your shoulders while you scrolled through twitter again. he was half-asleep, head tilted back against the cushions, soft breaths leaving his lips.

just as you were about to close the app, another tweet popped up on your feed— one that made you freeze.

original tweet: "yeah babe gimme a minute, js fighting crime rn"

underneath was a blurry, mid-action shot of katsuki during a recent mission. in one hand, his phone was visible, screen lit up, while his other hand was mid-explosion, sending a villain flying backward.

the kicker? he was grinning at his phone. not his usual battle-hungry, determined smirk. no, this was softer. goofy. a full-blown, lovesick idiot smile.

the kind of smile he only ever gave you.

"oh my god. katsuki," you whispered, shaking his arm. "wake up."

he groaned, cracking one eye open. "what now?"

you shoved the phone in his face. "explain."

he squinted at the screen, brow furrowing. his jaw immediately clenched when he recognized himself in the picture.

meanwhile, twitter had already decided:

- "hero of the year goes to dynamight for texting his wife while fighting crime."

- "bro’s out here fighting for his life and still prioritizing his girl. goals."

- "im jealous. getting a text back while he's FIGHTING VILLAINS IS CRAZYYY"

his mouth opened. closed. then he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "shit. didn't think they got that on camera."

"you didn’t think holding your phone in the middle of a fight would get caught on camera?"

"i was multitaskin'!" his ears were bright red.

"oh, for fuck's sake," you huffed, half-frustrated, half-melting into a puddle of affection. "is this why you said 'one sec babe, busy' that one time like you were busy with, oh, i don't know, paperwork instead of fighting a damn villain?"

"i had it under control," he grumbled, running a hand over his face. "was just checkin’ in on you."

"checking in?" you echoed, laughing. "you were literally detonating someone with your other hand!"

he groaned. "s’not my fault. needed to text my girl. s'not a crime."

your heart stuttered. "while fighting villains?"

"yeah, well...ya texted first."

you blinked. "so this is my fault?"

"yeah," he crossed his arms, cheeks turning pink. "maybe if ya didn’t make me smile like a fuckin’ idiot, i wouldn’t get caught slackin’. you seemed excited over something... figured you'd wanna talk."

your heart stopped for a second, warmth flooding through you.

"you’re such a dumbass," you said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. you leaned up, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into him. "missed me that much, huh?"

he huffed but didn’t stop you, his arms tightened around you, his embarrassment giving way to quiet satisfaction. "yeah, yeah. always miss you."

and the next time you texted him during work, you made damn sure to add:

"don't text back. fight the damn villains first."

he didn’t listen, obviously.

"they can wait. they know my wife is important."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[literaryobsession]

So, I do bots now.

If you guys are interested, here's a list of bots I made (and love) on JanitorAi:

Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugo

Rookie Katsuki Bakugo

Pro Hero Shota Aizawa

Basketball Player Kaede Rukawa

Marauder Sirius Black

Athletic Trainer Iwaizumi Hajime

I also do OCs:

Bastard Prince Caspian Virell

Bastard's Hound Vaelen Duskmore

Rebellion Leader Thane Aeris