You're the new adventurer who has taken over the farm south of Mistria. While March didn't like you in the beginning, he began to warm up to you. You find out just how much he's accepted you one night at the Forge.
WARNINGS: embarrassing fluff, word throw-up, and slight NSFW content hinted. MxF
Thanks for reading!
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You knew it was much too late to be working the forge, but you couldn't help yourself.
By the time you had exited the mines that day, the sun had long since decended past the mountain peak overlooking Mistria. At midnight, the blue skies had darkened to nearly black, with glittering diamonds framing the silver-painted moon. You were exhausted. Your arms ached from the day's work, and your eyelids were heavy. But it was worth it because tucked neatly into your bag was a stack of gold. Literally.
While making your way into town, you peered at your treasure with a grin. You knew that the ingots made from the mined ore would not just benefit you, but also the town. With the amount you'd collected, you'd easily be able to upgrade your pickaxe and then some, plus have extras to share with the local blacksmiths. You couldn't wait to present a fresh bar to March and Olric.
And it could have easily waited until the next morning... But you couldn't help yourself.
That's how March found you only minutes later; hunched over his anvil, your eyes soley focused on the sparks flying from the scalding metal as your hammer kissed its golden surface. The sleeves of your shirt were rolled up and over your elbows, showing the map of faded scars that stretched across your skin and your jeans clinging tightly to your curves. You hadn't even noticed him approach. He stood there for a moment in pure silence, watching in awe as you continued. He had spent his evening at The Sleeping Dragon, maybe (definitely) having one-too-many ales with Ryis and talking about their latest projects. March's head felt fuzzy, and with quiet steps, he moved to stand behind you. The scent of the mines clung to you; a mix of smoke and dirt, as well as your shampoo.
"Looks good."
Your arm jerked, the heavy hammer skiddering to a halt. "Fuck, March! You nearly scared the life out of me!" Your head turned in his direction, narrow eyes finding his. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips. Of course, he'd enjoy your spooked reaction.
He held his hands up innocently. "'M'sorry. Didn't mean to, I promise. I've been here for..." How long had he been standing there for? He couldn't tell. "Well, I've been here."
There was a real smile on March's lips at this point. You cocked your head at him, huffing slightly. "Don't make it a habit." You turned your attention back to your work. "It is looking pretty nice, right?"
March hummed in response, ducking his head lower towards yours. The faint scent of booze clung to March's clothing, giving you a good idea of where he'd been. "Oh! That reminds me, I found something for you." You set the head of the hammer onto the ground, leaning its handle against the anvil to rummage through your bag. After a few seconds, you finally found it. Its surface was unnaturally smooth, its golden face pure and strangely unblemished. With your free hand, you grabbed March's blindly. You didn't notice the hitch in his breath as you momentarily tangled your fingers with his. "Here. I thought that you, out of all people, would appreciate this the most."
You deposited the ore into March's hand. Almost immediately, he recognized what was given to him, and he beamed. "Why are you giving me something so thoughtful? Are you expecting something in return?" His words didn't hold its normal bite. Instead, his tone sounded more teasing. He looked up at you, his eyes glittering and his voice dropping an octave. "Well... thanks."
Immediately, your face bloomed red. Normally, March held a certain attitude towards you, the newcomer. While it had drastically improved over the last few weeks, you hadn't expected such a flirtatious move. The last time March had acted in this fashion was when he had a little too much to drink, which you had only witnessed once. And while you were well aware of March's looks, you had not once realistically played around with the idea of March being a man to pine over. He just didn't see you in that way. which was fine.
Unfortunately, your heart wasn't on the same page that your brain was.
"N-no problem." You mentally cursed at yourself for tripping over your words. Stupid.
"I'm serious." March stepped forward and clumsily grabbed your hand. He pressed it to his chest, your palm laying flat on the blacksmith's thin shirt. You could feel the heat radiating from March's body, as if there was a furnace placed where his heart would be. "I seriously appreciate this. I've never seen such a beautiful piece of gold ore."
You laughed, your nerves slowly calming. "Okay, okay. Message received." You used your trapped hand to pat on March's chest and attempted to pull away. Instead, his grip only tightened. "Uh... March?"
He caught his bottom lip in between his teeth. He seemed to contemplate his next words, but only for a moment. "It's still not as beautiful as you, though." The slur of his words had faded just a little, but March's drunk confidence was still ever-present.
You froze, eyes moving upwards to meet his. You felt as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest. "You're drunk, March. You don't know what you're saying." Trying to play it off as a joke, you attempted to smile at the redhead. But it didn't come off in the way that you had hoped because March only furrowed his brows. He looked frustrated at your words.
"Noooo." He drawled his word out and used your trapped hand to tug you closer. "I'm only a little tipsy, but I'm well-aware of where I am, who I'm with, and what I'm doing." His dark eyes were solely focused on you and slowly trailed from your face and down your body. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how pretty you are? You're absolutely stunning. You're like... Like... This piece of ore! Golden, perfect, loved by everyone." He waved around the chunk of raw metal in his other hand, as if it helped to prove his point. He was on a role. "You're also so smart. You know exactly what we need, and even when I was so unwelcoming in the beginning, you never called it quits. You know just what to say and when to say it. You're so brave, going down into the mines and fighting anything in your path. And your confidence is just... such a turn-on. When you give me any kind of attitude, it makes me want to grab you and kiss you." He blabbered without thinking, and all the while, you turned even more and more red. "And I've been trying to be nicer to you because Ryis said that women prefer guys who compliment them and hold the door open and do chivalry shit. But you don't even bat an eye, and I don't know what else to do to show you I like you."
March finally paused long enough to catch his breath, and before he could launch himself into another tirade, you used your free hand to slap it over his month. "Alright. I get it." Your cheeks were aflame, your gaze jumping down to your hand on his mouth, to your hand still clung against his chest, to his necklace. You didn't know where, exactly, to look.
March released your hand and grabbed at your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. He had his brows pulled together as if trying to figure you out. Your mouth was dry, the heat in the blacksmith's gaze smoldering out anything you were planning to say. Instead, you freed March's lips from their makeshift prison. He continued to stare at you quizically.
"So?" He finally prompted. "Are you going to let me kiss you, or what?" You could see March's confidence wavering the longer that he looked at you, as if finally realizing all of the emotions that were just dumped on you. He began to chew on his bottom lip again nervously. "I mean, if you don't want to-"
You cut him off by surging forward, grabbing the front of March's shirt to yank him down to your level. He stumbled forward, eyes widening in surprise as you closed the gap between you two. His lips crashed into yours, most likely bruised as you molded into him. March was still, and for a moment, you had worried you might've hurt him, but suddenly, he was a flurry of movement.
You heard the clang of the gold ore hit the ground, and then March was tangling his hand into your hair, tilting your head upwards to better meet your lips. His other hand found purchase on your hip, pulling your body flush against his own. His chest was pressed against your own, heartbeat erratic and no doubt matching the rhythm of your own. One of his legs slid in between yours, his thigh pressing deliciously against your core. You gasped, and the second you had parted your lips, March's tongue delved in deeper to taste you. He was a starving man, and you were his oasis.
The two of you only pulled apart to catch your breath. March's lips were swollen and bruised, his tanned cheeks flushed as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes. He looked as if he wanted to eat you up, and you could only assume you had the same expression. His chest was still rapidly rising and falling as he brought his lips on you once more, making a wet trail from your cheek and down the curve of your neck.
His name left your lips in a breathy moan, and you felt March's toothy grin against your skin. "Is it safe to say that you like me, then?" His cockiness had returned once more, but you weren't complaining. Instead, you twisted the cord of March's necklace around your finger.
"That depends." You mused, glancing up at March through your lashes as he pulled his lips away from you. "You wouldn't make me say it first, would you?"
March flushed, narrowing his eyes at you. "You brat." He grumbled, grabbing at your hips to pull you against his body once more. He huffed. "I like you. Good?"
"Hm, I don't know. I don't think I heard you."
"I like you! Jeez." He squeezed your hips. "Don't test me, new girl, or I'll make you regret it."
"Promise?"
Your response was innocent enough, but March's grin darkened as he brought his lips just inches from yours once more. "Cross my heart."
You pretended to hesitate, but the words were already leaving your month before you could stop them. "I'll need to hear you say it... just one more time, March."
A deep growl rose from March, and he twisted a hand in your hair. He tugged at your hair just enough to elicit a gasp from you. His eyes had become hungry once more as he leaned down. His next few words were husky, taking your breath away in a nervous rush.
Six Times You and Bakugou Were Forced Together — and the One Time He Chose To Be. #katsuki bakugou x fem!reader
⤷ After six chaotic summers of ruining each other’s vacations, you thought you were finally free. But the joke’s on you—because now you’re classmates. Same school. Same dorms. Same explosive rivalry. Turns out, the universe didn’t get tired of the drama. It just leveled it up. (7.7k)
Warning: I KNOW THAT BAKUGOU’S KIDNAPPING IS THE REASON WHY UA IMPLEMENT DORMS FOR THEIR STUDENTS BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THIS FANFIC AND MY SANITY WE AREN’T FOLLOWING THAT TIMELINE. FHAJFHSKFJKAFJS TRUST ME OKE FJAJFJAJD THIS IS A PART 2, you can read this as a standalone but some parts need context ajksndajndasa miscommunication at its finest? pls dont hate me ;-; Bakugou being a stubborn bitc-
1st - Being seated right next to each other
Mother always said she and Father were soulmates. The red string theory—proof of destiny. They met when they were young, but one had to move away. Gran and Pops believed America was better for their family.
Mother and Father were devastated. But despite the miles and differences—culture, time zones, even oceans—they found their way back to each other.
So, if someone asked you if you believed in soulmates? You’d say yes.
But a soulmate for love? Hah. Absolutely not. Soulmate of hate? Yes. And his name is Bakugou Katsuki.
Well… last year, something changed. You actually wanted to see him again. You wanted to race him to the pool, ride the waterslide until you both threw up, fight over snacks, and maybe—just maybe—see if that tension between you meant anything more than glares and name-calling.
But then there was the emergency. Your quirk flared, something went wrong, and you landed in the hospital. Three weeks confined. The doctors ordered full rest and observation.
Mother and father are worried, they ordered no flying, no training, and definitely no UA.
You had to summon every ounce of strength—and stubbornness—to convince your parents to let you go to Japan. You fought. There was yelling. Crying. Accusations. But in the end, you won. Barely.
Still, through all of it, you kept thinking about him. Bakugou.
Did he wait for you at the pool? Did he wonder why you never showed up?
If only your pride wasn’t as tall as Mount Fuji. If only you had taken the number his mom offered you. You could’ve sent one text. Just one.
But you didn’t.
Now here you are. Standing in front of Class 1-A. “…You can sit next to Bakugou Katsuki, since you already know each other,” Mr. Aizawa said, his eyes barely flicking toward you.
And just like that, twenty pairs of eyes pinned you as you walked toward the blond boy sitting near the window, arms crossed.
He didn’t say a word. Just watched as you pulled out your chair and sat beside him.
Mr. Aizawa immediately launched into the course expectations. But you couldn’t focus—not when the person you wanted to talk to was a solid wall of silence right next to you.
When the bell rang, the quiet filled room suddenly burst into conversation, getting to know each other and such.
“OMG, how’s life in America?” a bright voice asked. You turned to see a pink-skinned girl grinning at you like you were already best friends. Two girls silently followed her from behind.
You smiled politely. “Hot. Crowded. But okay, for the most part.”
“Sorry—I didn’t catch your names earlier,” you added, stifling a yawn. “I’m sorry if I arrive late. I just landed last night. Jet lag’s killing me.”
“You should rest first before throwing yourself into hero school,” said the calmer girl with black hair. “I’m Momo. That’s Mina, and Jirou.” She pointed between them.
You gave them a grateful smile. “Nice to meet you all.” But something shifted behind you. You could feel it. From the corner of your eye, you saw him—Bakugou—heading toward the door.
Your heart leapt before your pride could stop it. “Bakugou, wait!”
You followed him out into the hall. “Bakugou, you damn well know I’ll follow you even to hell,” you snapped, panting slightly, steps quickening until you caught up and blocked his path.
He halted. Hands in his pockets, hair messy as always, eyes unreadable.
“I’m sorry,” you said, breathless. “I’m sorry I made you wait. I didn’t mean to just disappear on you. There was something that happened—”
“I don’t care,” he cut in flatly.
Your words caught in your throat. Something cracked in you.
“…What?” you asked, voice trembling.
“I said I don’t care,” he repeated. “Now get the hell out of my face.”
It shattered something else. What the hell were those moments between you, then? Him comforting you when you panicked after getting lost in the woods? His quiet, genuine smile when he finally went down that stupid tall slide and you are there, waiting at the bottom?
You thought they meant something. But this was Bakugou. Of course they didn’t.
He stepped around you like you were nothing.
“Asshole!” you shouted, eyes burning.
“I know,” he muttered without turning back.
Yeah. Soulmate of hate. And that soulmate of hate just became your seatmate.
2nd - dorms are right next to each other
"Mom, I told you, I’m fine. I can unpack by myself. You don’t need to come all the way here just to help me organize my socks," you huffed, balancing your phone between your shoulder and cheek as you pushed open your dorm room door.
Your mother’s voice crackled on the other end, dramatic as ever. "I know, dear, but your father and I were thinking maybe we could help carry a few boxes... maybe set up your shelves, help you pick curtains—"
"Mother," you interrupted firmly, dragging a suitcase in with your free hand. "I’m here to become a pro-hero. If I can’t even move into a dorm on my own, what kind of hero would that make me?"
There was a pause. Then— "Oh my baby is growing up!" she wailed.
You sighed and let your forehead fall against the doorframe. “Okay, I love you, but I’m hanging up now.”
“Take pictures!” she shouted just before you ended the call.
You flopped onto your bed, face buried in the pillow, only to groan when you realized you hadn’t even opened the other suitcase. You sat up and—
SLAM
The door next to yours opened with a signature kind of violence you’d recognize in your sleep.
You froze.
Slowly—very slowly—you turned your head.
Sure enough, there he was.
Bakugou Katsuki.
You groaned into your pillow for the second time that hour.
“No. Don’t tell me this is like the resort thing where you thought my room was yours.”
Bakugou, standing in your doorway like the world personally offended him, crossed his arms. “That wasn’t my fault. The receptionist gave me the wrong key,” he snapped, tone clipped. “And second—this is my room.”
You didn’t move. “You’re funny”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
You peeled yourself off the bed, grabbed your phone, and opened the email Mr. Aizawa had sent a few days ago.
“Mr. Aizawa said I’m in Room 401,” you said with confidence, scrolling quickly. “See? Right here. ‘Room 401.’ Boom.”
Still holding your phone, you stepped outside the room, ready to prove him wrong and compare the email to the number hanging next to the door.
But you froze.
There it was—right in front of you, nailed to the wall in bold, silver lettering:
Room 402.
“…Oh.” Your voice came out a little too small.
You turned your head to look at Bakugou, your pride deflating.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t yell. He just stepped into his room and dropped his stuff unceremoniously onto the bed, like he hadn’t just watched you dig your own grave in real time.
Good thing you hadn’t unpacked yet.
You quietly backed out of the wrong room, dignity dragging behind you as you made your way next door.
You muttered under your breath, “This doesn’t count as me admitting I’m wrong.”
No answer.
You shut your door and stared at the wall that now separated your room from his.
Oh yeah. This was gonna be great. Not only was Bakugou your seatmate—he was also your dorm neighbor.
If this was the universe’s idea of a joke, it was a really cruel one.
…
Bakugou couldn’t sleep.
He tossed and turned, the blanket tangling around his legs like it was trying to suffocate him. He growled under his breath, flung the covers off, and sat up with a frustrated sigh.
This is so damn stupid, he thought, rubbing a hand down his face.
Giving up entirely on the idea of rest, he slipped out of bed and stepped onto the narrow balcony connected to his dorm. The night air was cool against his skin, a quiet contrast to the firestorm in his head.
Above him, the stars spilled across the sky like someone had cracked open the universe.
He stood there, arms resting against the railing, jaw clenched tight. He tried to think of anything else. School. Training. Tomorrow’s lesson. But his mind betrayed him—because it kept circling back to you.
To your face when you saw him again. To the way your voice cracked when you said sorry. To the silence he gave you in return.
He knew he was a dick for ignoring you. He knew it.
But seeing you again, after you didn’t show up when you said you would… it made his heart twist in a way he didn’t know how to deal with.
I need sleep, he muttered to himself.
He was about to turn and go back inside when movement caught the corner of his eye.
He froze.
Just a few feet away—on the balcony next to his—you were there too. Barefoot, arms leaning on your own railing, eyes lifted to the stars like they had secrets you were trying to unravel.
You looked so peaceful. So lost in thought. So… you.
And you hadn’t noticed him yet.
Bakugou stood there quietly, gaze locked on you, and for a moment—just a brief, silent second—he let his guard down.
Damn it, he thought.
Because no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, there was still something about you that pulled him in like gravity.
Bakugou reentered his dorm room, jaw tight, ready to sleep off the mess of thoughts spinning in his head. But then—he stopped. Something was sitting in the corner of his bed.
That stupid plushie.
Mr. Strawberry.
He stared at it for a moment, lips twitching in annoyance. Of course. Of course it ended up here. He could think of a million ways to get rid of it—toss it out the window, set it on fire, blast it into space. And yet… the first thing that came to mind was you.
How your eyes lit up when you held it. The way you hugged it like it held the entire world.
Bakugou groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Dumbass bear…”
Grumbling under his breath, he picked it up and marched out of his room. The hallway was quiet, moonlight slipping through the windows. He stopped in front of your door, hesitating just a second, before gently setting Mr. Strawberry down.
Not knocking. Not saying a word.
Just leaving it there for you to find.
3rd - somehow paired up for kitchen duty
“So, what’s up with you and Bakugou?” Mina asked casually, plopping down beside you at the dinner table, carrying a glass of water.
You froze, spoon midair. Of course she’d ask. Someone had to.
It’s been a month since you transferred to U.A.
A month since you finally stepped into your dream school you’ve fought so hard for. And a month since you saw Bakugou again. A month of him not saying a single word to you.
Despite sitting beside each other in class. Despite living one wall apart in the dorms. Despite brushing shoulders in the hallway, cafeteria, and training grounds.
It was strange. Uncanny, even.
Because every year during vacation, you’d see him. Like clockwork. You’d fight, race, dare each other to do stupid things by the pool. There was always something. Even last year—even when you didn’t show up—your thoughts still clung to him like chlorine on your skin. And when you saw each other again, in school of all places, you thought maybe… maybe something would’ve stayed. Would’ve meant something.
But now, you two were stuck in the same school for the next three years, and it was quiet. Too quiet.
You didn’t want to admit how bitter it felt. Didn’t want to acknowledge the tight knot in your chest every time he ignored you. Because he didn’t deserve your hurt. He was an asshole. Plain and simple.
You tried to explain yourself back then. You tried to say sorry and he just shut you down.
And the worst part? You still cared.
“Uh…” you finally responded, blinking out of your thoughts. “Nothing. There’s nothing between me and Bakugou.”
Mina raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of tension for nothing, girl.”
You forced a smile and took a bite of your porkchop. “Must be the air.”
“Okay, everyone!”
Tenya Iida, ever the earnest and booming class president, stood up from his seat, effectively cutting off your conversation with Mina.
Thank god.
You were grateful for the interruption. You needed any kind of distraction. Preferably one that didn’t involve Mina asking more questions about a certain blonde explosion boy.
“I have consulted Mr. Aizawa,” Iida announced, adjusting his glasses with dramatic flair, “and in the spirit of cooperation, balance, and fairness—we have concluded that there must be a sense of shared responsibility in this dorm!”
There were a few groans from the class.
“Therefore!” he declared. “Every day, there will be two pairs of students responsible for breakfast and dinner. Since we all have lunch provided at school, this will ensure a consistent meal schedule and reinforce teamwork!”
He held up a neatly folded list like it was the Holy Grail.
“I have already assigned these pairs, and I will now read them aloud in the order of rotation.”
Mina leaned toward you and whispered, “Watch me get paired with Sero and burn the kitchen down.”
You smiled a little, just as Iida started rattling off names.
“Kirishima and Kaminari! You two are first.”
“Aw yeah!” Kaminari fist-pumped. “Let’s make curry for breakfast!”
“Tokoyami and Shoji. Second.”
“…Understood,” Tokoyami said, mysteriously.
You zoned out a bit as the list went on, your attention drifting, until—
“Bakugou Katsuki and [Your Name]. You two will be the fourth pair. Thursday.”
You snapped back to reality so fast you almost dropped your spoon.
You turned your head slowly—and of course, he was already looking at you from across the room, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
Great. Cooking. Together. In a kitchen. For everyone. With knives.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
“Excuse me?” you raised your hand slowly. “How long are we paired up for breakfast and dinner?”
Iida didn’t miss a beat. “Until next term.”
You stared.
“Until… next term?” you repeated, voice rising half a pitch.
Iida smiled, utterly unaware of the quiet panic blooming behind your eyes. “Correct! I believe consistency will help build better cooperation and minimize confusion. That is the goal, after all!”
You sat down in slow motion, hands flat on the table.
From across the room, you could feel the weight of Bakugou’s stare, hot and heavy and already annoyed.
What could possibly go wrong?
(Everything. The answer was everything.)
…
Thursday came. Oh, how the days had flown by—fast, merciless, and leading you straight into doom.
You were enjoying the last shred of peace you’d know before the battle came storming in.
It was 6 a.m. The sky was still yawning. Your soul is already crying. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, hyping yourself up like you were about to face a villain instead of eggs and toast.
You took a deep breath, left your dorm, and stepped into the elevator. When the doors slid open to the communal kitchen floor—you saw him.
Already there. Already prepping. Already ignoring your entire existence.
He had the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up (which you totally didn’t find it hot, totally), a pan already sizzling, and that signature why-are-you-breathing-in-my-space scowl planted firmly on his face.
Of course he didn’t consult you about what to make. Why would he?
It’s not like this was a pair assignment or anything. Or not like communication was key to teamwork. Nope.
You walked in and cleared your throat.
He didn’t even look at you.
“Good morning to you too, Gordon Ramsay,” you muttered.
“What?” he barked, barely glancing your way.
“Nothing. Just admiring how we apparently live in your kitchen now.”
“Tch. Just don’t get in my way.”
You rolled your eyes and walked over to the fridge. If he wanted to act like he was running a five-star restaurant, fine. You’d start prepping the side dishes. At least someone had to make sure the toast didn’t turn into charcoal.
He didn't thank you. You didn't expect him to.
But as the smell of breakfast filled the dorm and the sun peeked over the horizon—you both moved around each other, wordlessly in sync.
It was annoying. How natural it felt. You hated it. (You didn’t.)
You were setting the table, carefully arranging plates, utensils, and the food you helped finish (even if he barely acknowledged your existence during it). The scent of grilled fish and rice was comforting, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were cooking with Bakugou.
Almost.
You turned around to grab the napkins—
—and walked straight into him.
“Ah—!” you yelped, recoiling as the side of the miso soup pot brushed your arm.
It didn’t spill—thank god—but the heat still licked your skin.
Bakugou barely flinched. His reflexes were too sharp, too quick. He gripped the pot tighter, steadying it before it could tip.
“Dumbass,” he muttered sharply. “Watch where you’re going.”
You hissed through your teeth, shaking your arm. “I did—I didn’t know you were right behind me! You didn’t announce you were carrying—who the hell carries boiling soup around like that?!”
He glared. “People who actually do something instead of pretending to be useful.”
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
He moved past you, setting the soup down roughly on the table.
“You’re such an ass,” you muttered under your breath—but loud enough.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Your arm was still stinging a little, but you didn’t let him see it. He didn’t apologize. Of course he didn’t.
But when everyone started filtering in for breakfast—complimenting the food and surprised it wasn’t a complete disaster—you noticed something odd.
Bakugou didn’t sit down right away. He hovered in the kitchen a bit longer.
Then, when he finally took his seat, he slid something across the table toward you without a word.
A small pack of burn ointment.
You blinked.
He didn’t look at you. He just shoved rice in his mouth like nothing happened.
You stared at the ointment. Then at him. Then back down.
Maybe, just maybe, this day was successful.
4th - you and Bakugou both end up in detention
You’re not a violent person. Really, you aren’t.
You bow to elders. You pour their tea with both hands like your mother taught you. You accept when you’re wrong. You apologize when you make a mistake. You don’t raise your voice. You don’t raise your hand.
...Well. That’s a lie. A small one. With two very specific exceptions.
First, there was the time a certain blonde menace with a god complex and an anger issue decided it was perfectly acceptable to grip your beloved stuffed toy—Mr. Strawberry—by the neck like he was squeezing the life out of it.
You had warned him. You had politely asked, "Give him back". Bakugou didn’t listen. So you launched yourself at him, tackling him like a linebacker.
Second, and more importantly, was the reason you were now in detention.
To be fair—you warned that guy too. The random jerk from Class 1-C or whatever, who thought it was funny to call Mina names. Said she looked like a clown with skin problems. Said she was a “failed science experiment.” Then he turned on you. Called you “transfer trash” and said Bakugou must be so unlucky to be stuck with you all the time.
You gave him three warnings. Then you gave him a fist to the eye and a knee to the groin.
"Again, Mr. Aizawa," you said with your hands folded like a model student, "I only hurt him twice. One in the eye. One in the manhood. That’s all."
Mr. Aizawa didn’t blink. "Then explain to me," he deadpanned, "why he's in Recovery Girl with a broken nose and fractured wrists?"
Your eyes widened, scandalized. "I said I didn’t do that!" you yelled at your teacher.
Okay. Maybe a third exception.
But before you could argue back—really argue back—the door burst open.
And in walked your first exception.
Bakugou Katsuki, looking just as pissed off as you were. Maybe more. Jaw tight, shoulders tense.
He didn’t say a word. Just marched over to the unoccupied chair beside you and dropped into it.
Mr. Aizawa barely lifted an eyebrow. "What did you do this time, Bakugou?"
Before Bakugou could answer, Snipe entered, striding in like he just finished dealing with a forest fire. "Not only did he arrive late for my class, he also kept provoking everyone. Ignored direct orders. Nearly set off an explosion indoors," Snipe rattled off with the tone of someone who's been through this many times before. "That's a third strike. I'm formally requesting detention."
Bakugou scoffed, arms crossed. "They were talking shit first."
"And you decided to answer with grenades," Snipe shot back, dry.
Mr. Aizawa sighed the sigh of a man who regretted all his life choices. "Great," he muttered. "Just what I needed." Then he looked at both of you. "You two. Same time. Same place. One week of detention."
You blinked. "Together?!"
Bakugou snapped his head toward you. "What the hell are you doing here?"
You glared. "Serving justice with a side of righteous fury."
"Sounds like assault," he muttered.
"Sounds like shut up," you snapped back.
Mr. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. "If either of you speaks again, I’m extending it to two weeks."
Silence.
You leaned back in your chair, arms folded. Bakugou mirrored you—same posture, same scowl.
Yeah. This was gonna be fun.
…
“Mr. Aizawa, what are we even doing here?” you groaned, dragging your feet behind him like a ghost with sore legs. “I literally can’t feel my arms from training. Pretty sure my spleen filed a complaint.”
Aizawa didn’t look back. “Because,” he said flatly, “you two are going to clean up the mess you made earlier.”
You blinked. “What mess—” Oh. Right. You and Bakugou managed to destroy four punching dummies and one reinforced wall panel during your totally accidental sparring match-turned-world-war.
(Okay. Maybe you threw the first kick. Maybe Bakugou exploded it.)
You glanced at Bakugou, who had the audacity to look proud.
“I need this entire training room spotless by tonight,” Aizawa said, stopping at the entrance of Gym Gamma. He turned to you both, his voice level but threatening. “Floors scrubbed, gear cleaned, the storage shelves reorganized. And no fighting. If I hear so much as a grunt, it’s another week.”
Then he walked off like the drama king he was.
You turned to Bakugou. He turned to you.
And at the same time, you both muttered, “This is your fault.”
Some time later, you were off in your own little corner of hell, surrounded by dust and mess. Boxes were scattered all over the training room, and for some reason, it had become your job to stack and organize them—because Bakugou was somewhere else, doing god knows what, probably blowing something up.
You huffed and wiped your forehead. Your arms were jelly, your legs were shaking, but your pride? Still intact. So you grabbed another box. Heavy as hell. Probably filled with gym weights or metal, because of course, your luck sucks.
You staggered forward, muscles screaming, vision blurring slightly from exhaustion.
Almost there.
Almost—And then your arms gave out.
Crash.
The box came down hard—slamming against your shoulder, the edge smacking into your cheekbone on the way down. You hit the floor with a thud, breath knocked from your lungs.
“Shit,” you hissed, clutching your face as your eyes watered. You weren’t sure what hurt more—your pride or the throbbing burn spreading across your cheek.
Footsteps thundered behind you. “Oi—what the hell was that?” Bakugou’s voice rang out, sharp and angry. But when he turned the corner and saw you crumpled on the ground, his expression shifted for a split second—just long enough for concern to flash in his eyes before the scowl came back twice as strong.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, crouching beside you. “You could’ve brained yourself, dumbass.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to sit up.
“Yeah, sure. Tell that to your face.” He reached out before you could argue and tilted your chin slightly, inspecting the red, already-swelling mark on your cheek. His hand was rough but careful, thumb grazing your skin like it might crack if he pressed too hard.
You blinked at him, stunned. Was he... worried?
He stood, brushing the dust off his pants, and stomped away.
You expected him not to come back.
It made sense, didn’t it? After all, you were the one who never showed up that day. You were the one who made him wait. If he left you here now, it would’ve been fair. Predictable, even.
So when the familiar sound of his boots returned just seconds later, your head snapped up in surprise.
He dropped to one knee beside you again, avoiding eye contact as he shoved a cold pack into your hands.
“Next time, don’t be stupid,” he muttered.
You stared at him. The cold pack in your hand. The way he wouldn’t look at you.
“…You came back.”
His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked toward you for a second—just a second—then looked away like he’d been burned.
“Shut up,” he said.
But he didn’t leave. He just sat there, beside you, legs stretched out on the floor, arms crossed.
The air between you was fragile. Like something about to break. All the bitterness, all the tension — it hung between you like a string pulled taut.
You wanted to speak up. To explain. To finally say why you didn’t show up at the resort that day.
“I didn’t—” you started, your voice soft. “That day, I—”
But before the words could fully leave your lips—
“I thought I was going to see you two for another week,” came Mr. Aizawa’s dry voice as he appeared behind you, arms crossed. You and Bakugou jolted slightly at his sudden arrival.
“Looks like I was wrong,” Aizawa continued, raising a brow. “One busted cheek, zero broken furniture. That’s progress. Go see Recovery Girl.”
He turned, already walking away. “Detention’s over. Try not to destroy anything or someone else.”
You looked down at the cold pack still pressed to your face, then over at Bakugou.
He was already looking at you. And this time, he didn’t look away.
5th - you and Bakugou were to compete against each other during the sports festival
"Now that’s an explosion if I’ve ever seen one!" Present Mic’s voice echoed through the roaring stadium. The crowd was electric—but none of it mattered to you. Not right now.
You needed an entrance. And fast.
It was the U.A. Sports Festival. The entire school had been preparing for this moment, training endlessly. But if you were being honest with yourself, you were more prepared than most.
Because for you, this wasn’t just about school spirit. This was a declaration.
A chance to prove—to the world, but especially to your parents—that you deserved to be a pro-hero.
That you were enough.
You could still hear their words, sharp and unyielding, echoing in the back of your mind. “You’re not cut out for this.” “You’ll just get hurt.” “You’re not like the others.”
You clenched your fists, forcing those memories down, locking them away. Not today.
Another explosion cracked across the field. The stadium shook. Your heart did too.
Of course, it had to be him.
Out of everyone you could face in the finals… it had to be Bakugou Katsuki.
You’d scraped past Todoroki in the semis—a narrow victory, but a victory nonetheless. You earned your place here.
But now you stood across from Bakugou, the embodiment of raw power and intensity. And he looked like he was ready to burn down the sky. He was charging toward you like a storm, feet pounding against the arena floor, eyes locked on you with that explosive determination only Bakugou could wear.
You were near the edge of the line, counting silently—one, two—calculating every breath, every beat. If you timed this just right… And you did. Just before he could strike, you twisted your body out of reach with perfect precision, grabbed his arm mid-motion, and used his own momentum against him.
You shoved him toward the edge, and for the first time, he hesitated. You saw it in his eyes—the sharp realization that he was cornered. You raised your arm, ready for the final blow that would win you the match.
But then it hit—that memory so vivid it stole the air from your lungs. You were at the dinner table, the scent of your mother’s cooking curling in the air, laughter echoing, your dad teasing you over a too-full bowl of rice.
It was warm, familiar—too familiar. Then, suddenly, the laughter faded. The food soured in your mouth. Your skin began to burn, your body overwhelmed from the inside out. Your quirk spiraled out of control. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream.
And in the present, right there in the arena, you felt that same terrifying flare building in your chest. Panic clawed at your throat—this was bad. One blow and you could hurt him—really hurt him. And the thought of that—of hurting him—made something inside you shatter.
So you did the only thing you could. You turned and ran. You ran from the edge, from the crowd, from your victory. You ran from Bakugou—because you couldn’t lose control. Not with him standing that close.
…
Bakugou was pissed—no, furious. What the hell was that? One second you had him cornered, about to land the finishing blow, and the next… you ran. Straight out of the arena. It didn’t even feel like a win—more like a slap in the face.
The moment the match ended and they declared him the victor by default, his blood started to boil. He didn’t want a win like that. He wanted a real fight, a real answer. So he stormed down the hallway, heading straight for the changing area where he knew you’d be.
His footsteps echoed sharply off the walls, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat, erratic with frustration. But just as he rounded the corner, he heard it—someone from another class, laughing too loud, too smug.
“She ran because she was a pussy,” the idiot sneered. That was the final straw.
“You!” Bakugou barked, voice slicing through the air like a grenade going off. The kid froze. “She made it to the finals, and you couldn’t even get past the first challenge. So shut the fuck up.” He didn’t even wait for a response.
The student stood frozen, confused and stunned, as Bakugou shoved past, storming toward the changing room with every intention of getting answers—from you.
He kicked open the door with a force that made the whole room shake, and there you were—sitting silently, staring straight ahead like you were trying to disappear. When you finally turned to look at him, the weight of everything hit him all at once. His voice cracked with frustration and pain as he blurted out, “What the fuck was that?!”
You swallowed hard, your voice trembling but steady as you said, “I’m sorry.”
But that only ignited something fiercer inside him. His eyes burned with anger and confusion, and before he could think twice, he snapped, “Do you think you’re better than me? That you can just run away like that? Or are you that desperate, huh?!”
The moment the words left his mouth, his chest tightened with regret. He hadn’t meant to say it like that—he didn’t want to hurt you. But the damage was done.
A suffocating silence filled the room, thick and heavy like a storm about to break.
You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with tears you were trying so hard to hold back. Your voice, once soft, now held a sharp edge as you fired back, “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Bakugou. So maybe you should shut the fuck up before you embarrass yourself.”
Then, almost breaking, you whispered, “What did I do to you?”
Your question hung in the air, raw and aching—an echo of all the pain neither of you wanted to face. But you didn’t wait for an answer. You turned away, each step heavy with heartbreak, leaving him standing alone in the room, the silence swallowing him whole.
And in that moment, Bakugou knew—he had fucked up, and this time, it felt like he might have lost you for good.
6th - getting kidnapped together
This was hell. Scratch that—this was worse than hell. If Bakugou had known the “training camp” involved team-building games, getting partnered up with other extras, and fake survival scenarios in the middle of nowhere, he would’ve exploded his way out before they even packed.
Bakugou gritted his teeth, arms crossed as he stood in the clearing surrounded by trees and idiots. Mina was bouncing around with a box of paper slips like it was a party game. “Partner draw time!” she called out, way too excited for his liking. “Everyone pick a name!”
“Tch.” He didn’t even try to hide his irritation. “This is so damn stupid.”
“Aw, c’mon man, just go with it,” Kirishima said, slapping his back like they were best friends or something.
Bakugou sighed through his nose and grabbed a slip of paper. His eyes scanned the name—and his whole body immediately tensed.
It was yours. After the whole debacle at the sports fest, you two weren’t talking anymore—scratch that, you weren’t talking to him. Which, honestly, he didn’t blame you. It was kind of funny how the tables had turned.
Across the clearing, Bakugou caught sight of you staring down at your own slip of paper. You looked so pissed off. Then your eyes lifted—and locked onto his. Neither of you looked thrilled.
“Wait— you two?!” Mina’s voice cut through the quiet, full of shock. She was well aware of the strange shift between you and Bakugou.
“It’s okay, Bakugou, I can take—”
“It’s fine, Mina. It’s for the sake of this camp,” You interrupted, voice low but firm.
The two of you started walking down the dark, barely lit pathway. The air between you was thick with awkward silence—neither of you said a word.
The mission was simple: work with your randomly assigned partner, use a crappy map to reach your destination, and avoid any “ambushes” set up by the teachers. Easy. Tedious. Pointless.
But then it all went sideways.
The ground shook. There was a loud bang in the distance—too real, too raw. Someone screamed. Smoke poured through the trees.
“Shit,” Bakugou muttered, yanking you behind him as his palms flared with heat. “That’s not a fuckin’ drill.”
It wasn’t. A real villain showed up—one who’d warped in through some kind of black mist. The two of you fought hard, but there was something in the air. A gas. His movements slowed, your limbs heavy, his vision doubled. And then, everything went dark.
...
When Bakugou woke up, everything ached. His head was pounding. His wrists were bound behind his back. The air was damp, heavy with mold and dust.
He was on the cold floor of what looked like a storage basement. Concrete walls, broken light above. Dim. Quiet. Except for the sound of breathing next to him.
You.
You stirred, groaning softly as you sat up, only to realize you were tied too. Your eyes widened when you saw him, and he hated the way your face tensed in fear for just a second before you masked it.
“You okay?” he rasped. You nodded slowly. “Yeah… I think so. Where are we?”
“No idea.” He shifted, testing the ropes. Tight. Bastards knew what they were doing.
You looked around, gaze sharp despite everything. “Did they say anything? Do anything?”
He hesitated. “No.” Then, muffled voices came from outside the door. “You said we only needed the boy,” one of them said. “Why did you bring the girl too?”
Bakugou froze. Every muscle in his body locked. They didn’t even mean to take you. You were an accident. A casualty. And it was his fucking fault. “I’ll handle it,” another voice replied coldly.
Then silence.
Minutes ticked by. You didn’t speak. Neither did he. But he counted. 1,829 seconds. He knew because he needed something—anything—to keep control.
He broke the quiet first.
“I’m sorry for saying those words,” Bakugou said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. “There was too much going on and I took it out on you”
“It’s okay,” you reassured gently. “You didn’t know what was going on.”
Another silence settled between you, heavy and tense.
Then, gathering his courage, he broke it again—this time asking the one question he’d been dying to ask but had been too cowardly to voice, too scared of the answer.
“Why didn’t you show up?” His voice was low, almost cautious.
Bakugou saw you inhale shakily, struggling to hold yourself together. “I was eating with my parents. One last meal in our house before we headed to the airport and went to the resort. Then—out of nowhere—my quirk just spun out of control.”
A tear slid down your cheek. Bakugou wants to reach out and wipe it away.
“It hurt. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything but watch it control me. I—” Your voice cracked. “I hurt my parents. And then I passed out.”
You sniffed, your voice breaking as you continued. “The doctor told me there’s little research about quirks turning on their own users. My parents were scared. They told me I wasn’t going to attend UA anymore. That I wasn’t going to be a pro-hero.”
Another tear slipped free.
“I was so mad. I’ve spent my whole life working my ass off, trying to get strong enough, trying to be good enough for UA. And then just like that… one night. One freak accident. And it was all gone.”
You let out a bitter laugh—short, sharp.
“I had to beg them to let me come. Had to scream, argue, cry. I pulled everything I had left just to get on that damn plane.”
Bakugou said nothing, but he didn’t look away either.
“But I’m also scared… because what if they were right? What if I’m not fit to be a pro-hero? What if my quirk turns on me again? What if I hurt—” You choked on your words, tears spilling freely now, full-blown crying.
He shifted closer, just enough that your shoulders nearly touched. “Is that why you didn’t use your quirk?” he asked quietly. You nodded.
“Hey,” he said, voice low but firm, “ You’re way stronger than before. Hell, you’re stronger than all those extras combined.”
He paused, watching your face carefully, making sure you were listening. “You fought to be here. You survived everything. And that’s why you’ll be a pro-hero.”
Bakugou wanted to wrap his arms around you, to hold you tight—anything to make you feel whole again, to remind you how much you mattered.
“I’m sorry—,” he muttered, but you cut him off. “Bakugou, I said it’s okay,” you smiled gently, trying to ease the tension.
“For making you do detention,” he continued, finally meeting your eyes. You could see the hesitation in his gaze, and your confusion only deepened.
“What are you talking about—?”
“I’m the one who broke that asshole’s— the one who insulted you and that pink-haired girl—his nose and wrist.” He said it quickly, as if ripping off a band-aid. “The reason why you got detention.”
Your mouth dropped open as the realization hit you like a slap. “Oh my god— is that why you were late?!?” You didn’t even realize you’d leaned into him until your shoulder bumped against his, playful but full of disbelief.
“You idiot,” you breathed, stunned, but a laugh bubbled up anyway—uncontrollable and light.
“Why did you do it?” you asked, your voice cracking between a whisper and a giggle. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh too loud.
Bakugou looked away again, needing to— you were too adorable trying to hold back your laughter. His jaw tightened, and his cheek twitched.
“Well,” he muttered, “he was a dick.”
You let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking your head.
“He kept running his mouth even after you kneed his—uh, you know. Then he said something about you. Something really shitty. And I saw red. I punched his face again.” He paused, remembering how furious he’d been when he heard what that bastard said about you, how he couldn’t control himself when he threw that first punch. Then, quieter, he added, “When he tried to swing back, I broke his wrist.”
He could feel you staring at him, your laughter now mixed with something warmer—admiration, maybe. He finally looked back at you, wanting to see your face again.
His chest tightened at the sight of your smile.
“You’re unbelievable,” you whispered, still smiling as you leaned your head back against the cold wall.
He didn’t say anything, just stared a second longer.
“Thanks,” you added softly, almost afraid to say it out loud. “For sticking up for me. And for Mina.”
This time, he didn’t shrug it off. He just muttered, “Tch. No one talks shit about you.” And he damn well made sure of it.
But this moment—this happiness—was brutally short-lived. The door slammed open with a harsh, unforgiving bang that echoed through the cramped room. Two men stood silhouetted in the doorway—one wearing a cold, expressionless mask, the other with no face at all, just a swirling black mist where his head should have been.
Without hesitation, the masked man strode forward and yanked you roughly by the arm, dragging you away from Bakugou. You stumbled, struggling to resist, but his grip only tightened, unforgiving and strong.
Meanwhile, the black-mist figure knelt beside Bakugou and, with an effortless motion, loosened his restraints as if they were nothing.
They didn’t say a word as they led both of you out of the cramped room and into what looked like a rundown bar—dimly lit, thick with dust, and lined with flickering neon signs that barely clung to life. You twisted your wrists desperately, trying to break free, but the masked man’s hold squeezed even tighter. A sharp yelp escaped you.
Bakugou saw red—his blood boiling hotter than ever.
“Hurt her, and I’ll kill you!” Bakugou’s voice exploded through the room, fierce and unwavering, cutting through the tension like a lightning strike.
I need a plan. Fast. I need to get her out of here, Bakugou thought, heart pounding. He had to get you out of danger. He could blast them all—no problem—but that prick was way too fast.
Ding!
“Pizza delivery!”
One Time He Chose To Be
Bakugou stood outside your hospital room, gripping Mr. Strawberry in one hand as he stared at the door like it might bite him. After the heroes rescued both of you from the League of Villains, you had suddenly collapsed in his arms. The doctors said you inhaled the majority of the gas—it wasn’t lethal, but it was enough to knock you out.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and finally pushed the door open.
This was the second time he’d seen you since then. The first was… chaotic. Nurses, his teacher, and a few classmates had practically dragged him out of the room, needing a crater’s worth of force just to pry him away from your side.
Now, the second time.
He had gone all the way back to the dorms just to grab that stupid plushie you wouldn’t sleep without. Had to practically do parkour through campus and dodge paparazzi like a ninja to avoid answering their invasive questions.
And now—there you were. Sitting up in bed, wrapped in blankets, watching cartoons on the hospital TV. You smiled at a joke on screen, soft and unguarded. His heart thudded a little too fast.
Sensing him, you turned, lowering the volume.
“Bakugou! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” you asked, carefully shifting your body to face him.
He stepped closer and extended the plushie toward you. “I’m here because I know you can’t sleep without him.”
You blinked, touched. “You went all the way back for Mr. Strawberry?”
He shrugged, eyes darting away. “Tch. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
But it was a big deal. And the way your fingers curled around the plushie, the way your eyes softened, told him you knew that too.
“Thank you… for bringing him,” you said softly, hugging Mr. Strawberry close as you looked at him. “You should be the one getting comforted, you know. The League of Villains is after you, and yet here you are… comforting me instead.”
You tried to tease, but both of you knew there was truth in your words.
You shifted to the side, making room. “After all the crap you’ve been through, you’re the one who deserves to be comforted.”
Bakugou got the message, wordlessly sitting beside you. “I know you’re probably sick of me apologizing, but I want to say sorry again—”
He didn’t finish. Because your lips pressed against his, gentle but certain.
When you pulled back, a smile tugged at your lips. “I think that’s the best way to get you to stop apologizing.”
Bakugou stared at you, stunned for a second. You watched the flicker of emotion cross his face, his jaw clenching slightly—not in anger, but in something raw and overwhelmed.
“I think,” you continued softly, “us getting stuck with each other, ending up together every vacation… I think the universe is trying to tell us something.”
Bakugou dipped his head down, resting his forehead gently against yours. His voice was low, almost a grumble, but the softness in it made your heart skip.
“That, don’t be stupid… and just get together already.”
You let out a breathy laugh, teasing, “Together already? Maybe ask me on a date first?”
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the corners of his lips twitching upward.
“Then…” he said, clearing his throat. “Would you go out with me?”
“Bakugou—” you started, but he cut you off, voice lower than usual, almost gentle.
“Call me Katsuki.”
Your lips curled into a slow, genuine grin, the kind that reached your eyes. You didn’t miss a beat.
“Of course, I would go out with you,” you said softly, letting the name roll off your tongue like it belonged there. “Katsuki.”
...
A/N: so umm, the fanfic writer curse (idk what the name) is true, bcs why tf am i writing this in the ER, almost die—TWICE (this is separate from the er. My mother is finally getting the help she needs :>) and i’m having imposter syndrome BECAUSE IM ACTUALLY BEING APOINTED AS THE EDITOR IN CHIEF ?!?!?!?!?!? FUCK
Taglist: @theysaidhush @magicalrainbowfish @watu2ka @rixiieee @shewki @bugg777 @d4wnyjlk @biodegradablevagina @suksatoru @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @bruleecream @badslittlemuffin @mewwccury @blueemochii @iris-nights @well-yeahs-blog @rikidaze @ayoulookingfine @gina239 @lvc-lv @getosh0e @intimidaid @jealousmartini (just comment if you want to be added on my taglist >⩊< )
Katsuki Bakugo didn’t fuck around when he cared about something. Or someone.
That’s why your birthday dinner had been hand-prepped from scratch. Every damn sauce, every piece of rice, and a little smear of curry still streaked along his jawline as he tried not to overcook the chicken. It had taken him days of practice, calling his mom once (regrettably), and three separate disasters in the kitchen. But by the time you walked in with that little smile he loved so much, everything was perfect. Just like he’d planned.
He’d actually dimmed the lights and lit candles that flickered on the table. And he looked nice. His hair was spiked with purpose, black button-up rolled at the sleeves, no loud logos, no usual scowl. Just you, the quiet clink of dishes, and his flushed ears as he poured you a glass of the fancy apple cider he bought because you both didn’t like drinking and trying so damn hard to be adult about everything tonight, despite being literal adults.
It was awkward. It was perfect. Everything worked perfectly after Katsuki’s plan. You got teary eyed when you unwrapped the bracelet, he bought you, with the tiny B on it. Corny as hell. And definitely he didn’t pick the K, because K could be also Kirishima. And you belonged to him and not Shitty Hair.
You kissed his cheek. “You’re amazing.”
His voice cracked when he answered, “Shut up. Eat your curry.”
The bedroom was next. More candles and sheets he had changed this morning. He’d even sprayed a little cologne on them. Something smoky and subtle that clung to the soft fabric.
His hands were shaking slightly as you sat down on the bed. That nervous, hungry, buzzing kind of feeling you both tried not to name too loudly. Your birthday was the perfect excuse to finally… try. You’d talked about it, both admitted your little bits of experience. Nothing major, just a handjob here, a makeout session there, but nothing that had ever gone far enough to be called ‘losing it’.
“Hey,” you whispered, palms resting on his shoulders. “You okay?”
Katsuki was hard already. His cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. Instead of answering, he’d kissed you breathless and stripped off your shirt. He was reverent and so focused and stupidly gentle, like if he rushed, he’d ruin everything.
“I want it to be perfect,” he mumbled against your throat, voice deeper than usual. “For you.”
You cupped his cheek. “It already is.”
But things started to wobble when his palms slid up your ribs and sparks bloomed in his fingertips. Not figurative ones. Literal, quirk sparks. You hissed as one licked your skin bit.
“Shit—! Fuck, I—” He jumped back like you were made of glass. “Did I—? Are you—?”
You winced and touched the pink mark on your ribs. “It’s okay, it’s not bad. I swear, Kats—”
“Fucking idiot,” he muttered. “I knew I should’ve—fuck.”
You sat up, covering yourself. “It’s just a little burn.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “I hurt you.”
“It was an accident.”
But it didn’t matter. You could already see his walls going up. He was still hard, embarrassingly so, but now he was flustered and fuming and moving like every muscle in his body hated him. Still you tried to stay patient.
When he returned, a bit quieter and paler, you let him undress you again. You lay back, legs parted and whispered, “Touch me, Katsuki.”
He looked like you’d punched him in the heart, but he nodded quickly. His fingers were warm and careful at first. A little stiff. And then a little too fast. Then not fast enough. Then awkwardly firm and dry and—nope.
Nothing happened. You tried to breathe through it, tried to shift your hips in a way that might help, but he wasn’t finding anything close to rhythm. You reached down, guiding his wrist and made everything worse.
“Don’t,” he muttered.
Your hand paused. “I’m just trying to help—”
“I said don’t!” His voice cracked loud and frustrated. “I know what I’m doing.”
You pulled your hand back. “Katsuki…”
He was already sitting up. His jaw clenched tightly and eyes turned too bright. “You think I didn’t fucking practice this? You think I didn’t try to figure it out? I watched videos, I read shit—”
You sat up with him and your heart broke a little. “I never said you didn’t—”
“I’m done,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable silence.
“…Okay,” you whispered. “That’s okay.”
You reached for your shirt. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and sadness, but Katsuki stopped you.
“I just…” He exhaled shakily. “I wanted to make it special. I wanted you to feel good. And I fucked it up.”
You cupped his cheek again. “Katsuki. This is special. Even if we didn’t figure it all out tonight.”
His shoulders slumped. You gently tugged him back into bed, pressing your forehead to his. “You didn’t mess up. We’re learning together. That’s what matters, right?”
He grunted softly. “Still hard, y’know.”
You giggled. “I noticed.”
“…Can I just hold you?”
You pulled him close, skin to skin. “Always.”
And under the candlelight, still bare, still buzzing, still learning how to love each other right, you stayed like that. No pressure. No perfection. Just slow, sweet warmth.
Tomorrow would come. So would everything else.
It wasn’t the candles this time. Katsuki had lit them again, little warm glows on the dresser and windowsill, but that wasn’t what made tonight feel different. It was the space between you. Not nervous, not charged, not desperate to prove anything. You were close and you both felt safe.
You’d spent the whole day in bed together, mostly in pajamas, eating leftovers, playing stupid games on your phones, while he made sarcastic commentary at your scores. And somewhere between the shared blanket and that fifth kiss that lingered a little too long, you both just knew.
“Wanna try again?” you asked softly, curled into his side.
Katsuki swallowed and kissed your hair. “Yeah.”
This time there was no rush. He kissed you like he’d never wanted anything more. His lips moved slow and warm, one hand cupping your cheek like he was afraid to let go. When you tugged his shirt off, he helped you ease yours over your head too, then pressed his forehead to yours with a breathless smile.
“No burns tonight,” he mumbled. “Promise.”
You laughed quietly. “Even if you did, I’d still let you try again.”
“…You’re a weirdo.”
“Yeah. Your weirdo.”
He fully smiled. One of those rare, sleepy, pink-cheeked grins that made your whole chest ache.
When you lay back, he kissed down your body with real patience this time, letting you sigh and shift. Your nerves melted under his touch. His fingers came next. This time slick with the lube he sheepishly pulled from the nightstand, his thumb circling your clit in soft, slow spirals. You gasped.
“Like that?” he asked, watching your face.
You nodded, lips parted with a small moan. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
The pride in his voice almost made you laugh. “Told you I could do it.”
But he didn’t say it like last time. This time he wasn’t defensive, not desperate. This time it was playful and light. Like he was finally allowing himself to enjoy it instead of turning it into something he had to master.
When you reached down for him, he didn’t flinch. You stroked him gently and he hissed into your neck, burying his face there with a muffled, “Fuck, baby—”
“Ready?” you whispered breathlessly.
He looked down at you, serious again. “Yeah. You?”
“Yes.”
You guided him in slow. There was some fumbling, a wrong angle, a soft swear, a laugh when he muttered “This shit’s harder than calculus.” But when he finally sank into you, both of you moaned in unison.
“Oh my god,” you gasped as he broke through your hymen so easily. He had prepared you so good. You were wet, both with your own arousal and a little help of lube.
Katsuki froze. “Too much? I can stop—”
“No, no—it’s good. Just… new.”
“Yeah,” he muttered shakily, cheeks red. “Fuck, it’s… it’s real good.”
When he started to move, it wasn’t smooth or rhythmic or porn-level perfect. It was a little awkward and a little too slow and a little too deep, but you wrapped your arms around him and moaned into his shoulder and that connection, that closeness, made it perfect.
“I love you,” he whispered against your throat, thrusting a little deeper. “You’re so fuckin’ good to me.”
You pulled his face to yours. “I love you too.”
He didn’t last long. You didn’t either. But when you both came, clinging to each other, bodies slick and hearts full, it felt like the softest crash. Like falling into the ocean and washing ashore together.
Afterward you lay tangled in the blankets, both of you still flushed and giggling quietly at the way his legs shook.
“Still hard?” you teased.
He groaned. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You did good, Kats.”
He kissed your bare shoulder. “Tch, so did you.”
There was no shame. No disappointment. No pressure. Just second chances and soft, sweet success.
KISSING AND PINCHING SHOTO’S CHEEKS!! PLEASE!! HE’S A BABY WHO DESERVES LOVE!!
Hey, guys! I'm alive. I know it's been a hot minute... I lost touch with myself for a while. But I'm feeling a lot better so I'm back! I plan to play catch-up with the requests that have been sent to me previously before I reopen my customs. Any and all feedback is appreciated, as always, and... I missed you guys. Glad to be back :)
Pairing: Todoroki x Reader
Rating: Fluff
Words: 1,035
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It had been a long day.
Well, for you it had been, at least. You can’t speak for everyone. So by the time the end of the school day arrives, you’re relieved. Now, you could hide in your bedroom for the rest of the day, do your homework as quickly as possible, and then just relax. Maybe read a book or watch a nice movie. At the thought of the latter, you sighed. There was that one movie you were looking at, about a moving castle and the magician who lived in it… Shoto had promised to watch it with you. He actually seemed excited to watch it.
By the time you get to your dorm and finish your homework, the sun is just about to slip past the horizon and shadow Japan in darkness. You had sent your calm boyfriend a text earlier about the movie, and he had responded with a quick “OK” as you had set the time for the night to begin. When 6:30 rolls around, a knock resounds on your bedroom door; barely audible, but you’re lucky that you’re expecting Shoto to come by. Right on time, as always. You swing the door open, already changed into comfortable clothing and freshly washed.
You can never get used to the way Shoto looks in such comfortable clothing, though. Grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt completes his ensemble this evening, hands kept tucked into his pockets and his heterochromia eyes focus on you. A soft smile graces his lips.
“Good evening, snowflake.”
You smile. You love that nickname. “Come on in, Sho.”
Your boyfriend does just that, floating past you and taking the spot on your bed that he had become familiar with over the last handful of months. “We’re watching Howl’s Moving Castle, correct? I have heard that it is very good.” His deep voice rumbles, and you quickly climb into bed and cuddle into his side. Your TV is already on, the movie queued on the screen and just waiting for someone to press play. You hum as a reply to Shoto, grabbing the remote and starting the movie before relaxing into him further.
Part way through the film, as the two of you watch Sophie and Howl move closer and closer together, you turn your attention away from the TV and instead to Shoto. His gaze is locked on the characters, eyes wide and his teal eye brightened by the screen. He’s enchanted by the movie, and you’re enchanted by him. So much that you can’t help but just…
You take the fat of his cheek, pinching it between your thumb and index finger gently. His skin is soft and warm, but you can’t tell if the heat is from his quirk or the deep blush blooming across his pale cheeks. “My love? What are you doing?” His eyes move to you, giving you the full image of his red face. Even after months of dating, it still was a wonder to you on how Shoto got so embarrassed by the smallest actions.
With his face now angled towards you, you take his other cheek in your second hand, now squeezing them both with the concentration level of a surgeon. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink; for a moment, you think he’s stopped breathing. But he hasn’t. Thank goodness.
The hands move from squeezing his cheeks to cupping them, and suddenly you’re pulling yourself up from the spot on your bed to instead plant your lips on his. They’re warm, as always, and your eyelids flutter shut as you kiss him softly before pulling away. Now his face is really on fire, and you can feel him heating up further under your palms. Just for good measure, you go back in for a second one, lingering a bit longer before pulling away and looking up at him. You grin. “Hi, there.”
A deep chuckle resounds from his chest. “Hello, snowflake. Are you enjoying yourself?” Despite his vibrant blush, he’s smiling. You go back to squeezing his cheeks between your fingers.
“Lots of fun, actually. You?”
“Hmm. I am enjoying my time with you. As always.”
He goes silent, ignoring the movie completely and allowing you to play with his cheeks. His patience doesn’t surprise you, and you happily continue to annoy him. “Hey, Shoto?” You ask, still focused on your task. He hums in response, and you continue. “I adore you. You know that, right?”
Just as his blush was beginning to cool down, your words flare it up once more and you suppress a giggle from escaping. “Of course, my love. And I adore you.” He moves forward, and you drop your hands from his face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, then another, and soon he’s peppering your face with them. You laugh, and this pushes him to pursue you further, pushing you further into your mountain of pillows as he continues to blanket your face with the imprint of his lips. After a few minutes, you’re breathless from laughing and Shoto hovers above you, a growing smile on his lips. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other helping to support his body weight above your own. And while a part of you feels terrible for missing the movie, another part wants to continue showering Shoto Todoroki in love. “I love you, Y/N.” Shoto states, and you lift your head up to give him a quick pec.
“And I love you. Always.”
Shoto smiles, and finally you and Shoto situate yourselves better to return your attention to the film. However, as you cuddle closer to him, you notice the credits rolling. You laugh. “So much for the movie, huh?” You joke. Shoto only smiles wider, grabbing your remote and starting the movie from the very beginning again. “I do not mind. Let’s watch it again. And possibly one more time after, if you become distracted once more.” He was teasing you - a skill he had gotten much better at - and you flush.
And you won’t lie; you and him did get distracted with one another during the second rewatch. But could you blame yourself? Look at him… Isn’t he lovely?
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Okay... I still have no idea how to end fics. But hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated :)
HI, I REALLY LIKED THE LAST ONE YOU DID WITH BAKUGOU AND THE READER, NOW IM BACK🤡 if it aint too much to ask, may i get a request with kirishima where him and his girlfriend go grocery shopping? like the others planned what they want to eat and so kirishima and his s/o go get the ingredients they need; but they get sidetracked 🤡 his s/o keeps sitting in the cart while kiri drives them around (crazily), they keep trying samples, etc. they get what they need and head back to the dorms🥰 thanks!!
HI I don’t much about stores in Japan butttt I LOVE THIS IDEA SO HERE U GO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!
Title: Shopping Cart Joyride
Prompt: (Requested!)
Rating: Fluff!
Words: 5,870
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“You know what would go great with these notes? Some sukiyaki.”
You snorted at Mina’s words, partially ignoring her as you continued to show Tsuyu the correct math equation. The girls from 1-A were all gathered in the living room, notes and textbooks haphazardly scattered across the coffee table and floor. While you weren’t the smartest student within the class, you were at least in the top 5, meaning you and Momo had been recruited by your other classmates to run a studying session.
“Oh, that does sound good! Do you think we have everything for it?” Ochako piped up in excitement, and soon everyone was chattering about the prospect of hot pot. Even your stomach was growling at the thought.
“Do you think we could convince Bakugou to make it? He’s the best chef here.”
Hiii it’s been a while, guys! Lots of crazy things happening rn, and I hope everyone is inside and at home, safe and sound. Im putting all of my requests on hold just to write this piece for the lovely @bakugou-katsukisgf, who has been feeling kinda down lately. @bakugou-katsukisgf, if you’re reading this, just know that I’ve always loved your work, and never apologize for how you’re feeling! I hope this makes you feel a little bit better. <3
-Jody
Prompt: found here ; Bakugou knows you’ve had a bad day, and despite his infamous explosive attitude, he wants to make sure you know he’ll always be there for you.
Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki
Words: 2,880
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You felt like crap.
You stepped into your dorm room and fell face-first into your bedsheets with a groan, backpack dropping to the ground with arms stiff at your sides as you allowed yourself to just… lay there. You’d had bad days before, sure, but today was just exceptionally terrible. It had started off with you spilling hot tea on yourself during breakfast, successfully staining your school uniform when you were already late for class. It continued to fall downhill from there, up to the point where you ended up staying after school to escape your friend’s questioning over your quiet state, camping out in the corner of the library until the sun began to disappear. Just the memories of the day caused your eyes to prick with tears.
Katsuki Bakugo wasn't sure exactly when it started, but he was pretty sure he hated your guts.
It started during the first few days of school. You turned towards him, desk only a foot away from his, and smiled so brightly that it made his chest hurt. He thought he was sick, and after a useless trip to the nurse's office, found himself at the peak of health. It happened again not too long after, when you laughed at Dunce Face's stupid joke. He had felt his chest again, as well as a rush of heat to his ears. And the symptoms continued for months, still persisting. There was only one explanation to these weird reactions.
Katsuki hated you so much that it made his body react, too.
He glowered at you from across the classroom, watching you toss your head back as laughter spilled from your lips. One of your hands was grasping onto Dumb Hair's arm, and the sharp-toothed red head didn't seem to be complaining about it one bit. "Tch." Katsuki clicked his tongue, feeling that familiar pang once more before turning his gaze towards the window.
"Getting jealous again, are we?" Raccoon Eyes nudged his arm, wiggling her eyes between him and you.
"Hell no. What would I be jealous about? Over some shitty nobody? Yeah, right." Despite having just averted his gaze, Katsuki's ruby eyes tracked you down once more. You had removed your hand - thank hell - but instead of seeing your turned away face, the hot-headed boy met your steady gaze. He held it for a moment, and you titled your head at him. Almost curiously. Then you smiled, and that awful thump happened again. He turned back to the window, grinding his teeth together.
Yup. There was no better explanation. He really, really didn't like you.
And with all of his great fuckin' luck, he just had to have been caught "staring" at you by his "friends."
"Oh, to be young and in love!" Dunce Face dramatically pressed his hand to his forehead, swaying from side to side before falling gracefully into Racoon Eyes' arms. "Kiss me, Bakugou!" He said in a false falsetto, followed by a series of kissing noises. The pair erupted into giggles and shrieks as Katsuki sent a warning glare in their direction.
"I'm not in love. I hate her, remember?"
Racoon Eyes shook her head, propping herself up from the ground. "That's what you think. Have you ever even thought about the possibility that you might... gasp... have a crush?"
Katsuki didn't respond, only grumbling incoherently as he stared down at the book in his hands. It was supposed to be a study session, with Katsuki on the couch and the two idiots sitting in front of him, their homework splayed out on the coffee table in a jumbled mess.
"C'mon, Mina. That would mean Bakugo has a hear- ow." Dunce Face rubbed the back of his head, still registering that he was just smacked with Katsuki's heavy book. "Hey, you'll regret that."
Katsuki grinned. "Yeah? I'd like to see you fuckin' try."
Dunce Face's attention flitted elsewhere, and that dumb grin spread across his face. He held up his hand. "Y/N! Just in time! Come join us!"
Katsuki froze, eyes narrowing. "Stop fucking with me, Sparky. We both know you-re just-"
He felt your hands on his shoulders first, then the smell of your perfume. It was fruity and sweet, like some kind of strawberry shortcake. "Hey! Are you guy's studying? I'd love to join, if that's okay!"
He couldn't do anything. His mouth had dried up, body frozen as it tried to catch up with his brain. His breath caught in his throat. When your hands lifted from his shoulders, he almost sighed out of disappointment. Him. Out of all people. And it hit him like a truck that maybe, just maybe, those two damn idiots might've been right. For the first and last time in their lives.
You didn't wait for a response, instead hopping over the couch cushions and sitting beside Katsuki. He couldn't even look at you straight, only sparing you a side-glance and offering a mumbled "what's up."
What's up? He doesn't ever say stuff like that, and his ears began to burn. His two so-called friends exchanged a look. You didn't seem to notice, instead leaning closer to Katsuki to get a better look at his book. "Hey! What are you studying? Literature? That's one of my favorite classes."
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and his breath caught in his throat as he finally looked at your face as you stared down at the book in his hands.
You were beautiful. He always knew, deep down, you were pretty. But it hit him so much harder when you were right beside him, eyes glittering as they studied something, pink lips curling into a soft and natural smile. You were so different compared to him; soft, polite, understanding. He was an ass.
Your eyes moved upwards, and he quickly averted his gaze, hoping you didn't catch him staring. Racoon Eyes cleared her throat. "You know, I think I forgot that book in my room. Right, Kaminari? Didn't you forget yours, too?"
"Huh? No, I have it right-"
"KAMINARI. Didn't. You. Forget. It?"
Those two brain cells of his finally rubbed together. "Oh! Oh yes, I did. Darn! Let's go together to grab our books, Mina! We'll be right back!" Dunce Face was robotic, standing up and marching out of the living room towards the dorms. Racoon Eyes was right on his heels, sparing a thumbs-up at Katsuki before disappearing behind the doorframe.
"Damn idiots."
"Yeah, sometimes. But that's what makes them fun, right?"
Katsuki snapped his head to you, eyes wide. That may have been the meanest thing he had ever heard you say, and that was saying a lot. "Uh... Yeah, I guess. Sometimes."
"So, while we're waiting for them, what do you want to talk about?"
"Oh, maybe that wasn't the best way to start. Sorry, I'm just nervous." You smiled sheepishly, scratching at your cheek and moving your eyes elsewhere.
You had the ball in his court, and Katsuki wasn't sure how to play. He felt clammy and weird, his chest doing that weird thing again. Except this time, it was worse. It felt like his heart was working overtime.
"Nervous? Why?"
"Well... We don't really talk too much with one another, right? I was just trying to learn more about you, I guess."
You wanted to know more. About him.
"I like spicy food." Katsuki blurted out. He didn't really think about the words, just letting them escape mindlessly. "I like food so spicy that it hurts. I used to make this hot curry for my mom and dad, and one time my dad couldn't get past the first bite because he complained it was going to burn off his taste buds. But I called bullshit."
The silence only stretched for a few seconds, but to Katsuki, it felt like an eon. Then, you laughed. It was the first time you had ever laughed at something he said. Not Dunce Face, not Hair-For-Brains. Him. Katsuki Bakugo. It was like bells, light and airy. Soon, he was chuckling beside you. Your laugh was contagious.
"I also like spicy food, but maybe not that spicy. I also really like sweet stuff."
"Like strawberries?"
You tilted your head at him. That curious tilt. "Yeah! How did you know? That's my favorite."
"You smell like strawberries."
Oh shit. Oh, fuck. That sounded so weird, and by the time the words registered in Katsuki's brain, they had already left his lips. And now you heard them too, and you also probably thought he was weird, and shit fuck god damnit-
"Oh! You have a really great sense of smell! It's a new shampoo. I think you're the first to point it out!"
"Yeah, it's pretty fucking strong. It smells good, though! I wasn't saying you smelt bad or anything like that, just that it was the first thing I noticed when you came up. Shit, not that I'm saying I sniff you or something fucking weird like that, just-" Katsuki was stuck rambling, and he wished for lightning to strike him down.
You placed a hand on his arm, and Katsuki zipped right up. "Hey, that's amazing that you noticed that! Honestly, you have a scent too. But yours isn't strawberries. Sorry to burst your bubble." Now you were joking with him. You started giggling at your own joke, and Katsuki wanted to bury his face in his hands to hide the redness spreading across his cheeks. How were you so goddamn cute?
"Damn. Don't know how I'll survive." He sounded too dry, but you didn't seem to mind as you graced him with your laughter. And then, something popped up in his brain. If he did have a "crush", then maybe he should just...
"Hey, have you heard of that new cafe that just opened last week? It's supposed to have a whole strawberry menu. Or some shit like that. Seasonal thing or whatever."
You perked up, eyes having that familiar sparkle. "Really? That sounds amazing! Maybe I can ask Mina and Jiro to come with me, or even Uraraka. She'd probably love it, too!"
Katsuki deflated, but only a bit. "Yeah, those are good ideas. But I bet someone else might wanna go with you."
"Oh, yeah? I guess it wouldn't be nice to leave Kirishima out, since he likes strawberries, too. Or maybe you mean Sero? He always talks about trying new foods. Oh! How about..." You were rambling now, listing off classmates to join you. But the only one you never mentioned was Katsuki. And it was starting to frustrate him. He kept his cool, up until you just had to mention-
"Midoriya could come, too! He's always so-"
"Hell, will you please shut up? I was trying to ask you out on a date!"
It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock as you just... stared at him. And Katsuki Bakugo quickly realized he fucked up. "God damnit, I didn't mean to yell at you. Fuck, I was just trying to-"
"Yes. Yes, I'll go with you."
He snapped his neck so quickly towards you, he was surprised it didn't break. "What? Really?"
"Katsuki. Of course, I'll go with you. I think it would be really fun. And I was being honest when I said I wanted to get to know you better."
"Oh... Okay. Great. That's great."
You glanced around the room. "How about now?"
"Now? Hell yeah. Let's go. Fuck the study group."
Katsuki bolted out of his seat a bit too excitedly, and you stifled back a grin. No need in embarrassing him. You pushed yourself up, grabbing his arm once more. "C'mon. Dessert's on me today. But I'll expect you to pay for both of us next time."
Next time. You were already planning for a next time before the "this time" had begun. Katsuki couldn't stop his grin, standing up a bit straighter. "I think I can deal with that. Let's go. We don't have all day."
It wasn't until weeks later that Katsuki actually asked you out. Officially. But it only took him a day to find out that Kaminari and Mina had made a bet about the first date, with Mina declared the winner. Let's just say her winnings benefitted Katsuki more than her.
Especially since he ended up taking the cash for himself and your guy's second date. Thanks, Mina.
Prompt: After overhearing your boyfriend admit that he’s cheated on you with another, you try to move on as best as you can; with the help of one of your closest friends, who is also the guy crushing on you without your knowledge.
Pairing: ShinsoxReader, with BakugouxReader (ex-boyfriend, RIP)
Rating: (Attempted?) Angst and Slight Fluff
Words: 3,569 (lololol 69)
Part two? Hahahahaha yeah whatever……… Unless?…..
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Some days, you’d wish for the sky to fall. Usually you’d want that to happen when small occurrences took place; rain instead of sun, tripped and scraped your knee, forgot about a homework assignment the day it was due. Small problems. Nothing deadly serious.
You never expected to actually want to die. Or at least feel like you did.
“Hey, (Y/N), isn’t that your boyfriend over there?” One of your co-workers nudged your shoulder as you placed an order ticket into the kitchen, snapping it into place on a turntable wire rack. You swiveled your head to the pointed direction, eyes wide and a warm smile growing on your face. You hadn’t told Bakugou you were working today, instead lying and telling him you were going shopping with your mom, because you didn’t want him to notice the extra hours you were putting in… Especially with his birthday right around the corner, and you know that he’s been eyeing a new gaming system. The exact system you planned to buy for him at the end of this week.
I started this blog way back in 2018 (? dont quote me on that). I write here occasionally, but if you’re looking for more of my recent works, you can follow me on AO3 @ denkiisbestboyo!!
Summary: You’re only the classmate - and the complete opposite - of Bakugou Katsuki, the infamous hothead. Yet you can’t stop yourself from falling for him. All it takes is one lucky movie night to either make it or break it for you and the explosive boy.
Rating: Fluff!! (Full of Softie Bakugou, uwu)
Words: 3043
You’d be lying to yourself if you said that Bakugou Katsuki didn’t make you nervous.
It could’ve been for a number of reasons; the constant way he raised his voice in class, the glares he shot to the ‘extras’ around him, the threats he tossed around like candy to children on Halloween. Or maybe it was the way he’d lose himself in his thoughts while studying, attention on the notebook in front of him as you’d gaze at his handsome side profile, the way his mouth would wordlessly repeat class notes as he read, or how he sometimes ran one hand on the back of his neck, or when he’d snap his crimson eyes to you as you stared at him. Just as he did at that moment.
“The demons.” They muttered, burying their head in their pillow.
Pairing: Kirishima x Reader
Summary: After a quick phone call from one of your friends, Kirishima rushes to your room to find you sleeping with the lights on… All because of your quirk.
Rating: Fluffy Fluff FLUFF
Words: 1,598
Kirishima had never heard Uraraka so panicked before.
He had picked up the call without a second thought, seeing (Y/N) with a red heart flashing on his screen before swiping to answer the phone with a grin. He was hoping you were calling him to let you know that Uraraka had left after your girl’s night in, just so he could run to your room and sneak in some last-minute cuddles before it was too late. Lounging on his bed in nothing but his boxers was fun and all, but he’d rather have you with him to enjoy it. “Hey, babe! Ready for your Red Riot cuddle sesh, already?”
“Cute, but not the time for that. You need to get here. Now. Please.”
here i am delivering content that NO ONE ASKED FOR !! this is nasty and i got super embarrassed just writing it but i hope you enjoy it anyway
honestly no one look at me, just let me indulge in this in peace
pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader
word count: 10k
warnings: NSFW, oral, penetrative sex, virgin kirishima, lots of cum (like, a ridiculous amount), breeding (kinda). it’s not exactly anthro bc everyone is human here but uhh non-standard genitals, i guess? kirishima has an unusual dick: pls see here for reference
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated.
The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.
KISSING AND PINCHING SHOTO’S CHEEKS!! PLEASE!! HE’S A BABY WHO DESERVES LOVE!!
Hey, guys! I'm alive. I know it's been a hot minute... I lost touch with myself for a while. But I'm feeling a lot better so I'm back! I plan to play catch-up with the requests that have been sent to me previously before I reopen my customs. Any and all feedback is appreciated, as always, and... I missed you guys. Glad to be back :)
Pairing: Todoroki x Reader
Rating: Fluff
Words: 1,035
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It had been a long day.
Well, for you it had been, at least. You can’t speak for everyone. So by the time the end of the school day arrives, you’re relieved. Now, you could hide in your bedroom for the rest of the day, do your homework as quickly as possible, and then just relax. Maybe read a book or watch a nice movie. At the thought of the latter, you sighed. There was that one movie you were looking at, about a moving castle and the magician who lived in it… Shoto had promised to watch it with you. He actually seemed excited to watch it.
By the time you get to your dorm and finish your homework, the sun is just about to slip past the horizon and shadow Japan in darkness. You had sent your calm boyfriend a text earlier about the movie, and he had responded with a quick “OK” as you had set the time for the night to begin. When 6:30 rolls around, a knock resounds on your bedroom door; barely audible, but you’re lucky that you’re expecting Shoto to come by. Right on time, as always. You swing the door open, already changed into comfortable clothing and freshly washed.
You can never get used to the way Shoto looks in such comfortable clothing, though. Grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt completes his ensemble this evening, hands kept tucked into his pockets and his heterochromia eyes focus on you. A soft smile graces his lips.
“Good evening, snowflake.”
You smile. You love that nickname. “Come on in, Sho.”
Your boyfriend does just that, floating past you and taking the spot on your bed that he had become familiar with over the last handful of months. “We’re watching Howl’s Moving Castle, correct? I have heard that it is very good.” His deep voice rumbles, and you quickly climb into bed and cuddle into his side. Your TV is already on, the movie queued on the screen and just waiting for someone to press play. You hum as a reply to Shoto, grabbing the remote and starting the movie before relaxing into him further.
Part way through the film, as the two of you watch Sophie and Howl move closer and closer together, you turn your attention away from the TV and instead to Shoto. His gaze is locked on the characters, eyes wide and his teal eye brightened by the screen. He’s enchanted by the movie, and you’re enchanted by him. So much that you can’t help but just…
You take the fat of his cheek, pinching it between your thumb and index finger gently. His skin is soft and warm, but you can’t tell if the heat is from his quirk or the deep blush blooming across his pale cheeks. “My love? What are you doing?” His eyes move to you, giving you the full image of his red face. Even after months of dating, it still was a wonder to you on how Shoto got so embarrassed by the smallest actions.
With his face now angled towards you, you take his other cheek in your second hand, now squeezing them both with the concentration level of a surgeon. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink; for a moment, you think he’s stopped breathing. But he hasn’t. Thank goodness.
The hands move from squeezing his cheeks to cupping them, and suddenly you’re pulling yourself up from the spot on your bed to instead plant your lips on his. They’re warm, as always, and your eyelids flutter shut as you kiss him softly before pulling away. Now his face is really on fire, and you can feel him heating up further under your palms. Just for good measure, you go back in for a second one, lingering a bit longer before pulling away and looking up at him. You grin. “Hi, there.”
A deep chuckle resounds from his chest. “Hello, snowflake. Are you enjoying yourself?” Despite his vibrant blush, he’s smiling. You go back to squeezing his cheeks between your fingers.
“Lots of fun, actually. You?”
“Hmm. I am enjoying my time with you. As always.”
He goes silent, ignoring the movie completely and allowing you to play with his cheeks. His patience doesn’t surprise you, and you happily continue to annoy him. “Hey, Shoto?” You ask, still focused on your task. He hums in response, and you continue. “I adore you. You know that, right?”
Just as his blush was beginning to cool down, your words flare it up once more and you suppress a giggle from escaping. “Of course, my love. And I adore you.” He moves forward, and you drop your hands from his face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, then another, and soon he’s peppering your face with them. You laugh, and this pushes him to pursue you further, pushing you further into your mountain of pillows as he continues to blanket your face with the imprint of his lips. After a few minutes, you’re breathless from laughing and Shoto hovers above you, a growing smile on his lips. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other helping to support his body weight above your own. And while a part of you feels terrible for missing the movie, another part wants to continue showering Shoto Todoroki in love. “I love you, Y/N.” Shoto states, and you lift your head up to give him a quick pec.
“And I love you. Always.”
Shoto smiles, and finally you and Shoto situate yourselves better to return your attention to the film. However, as you cuddle closer to him, you notice the credits rolling. You laugh. “So much for the movie, huh?” You joke. Shoto only smiles wider, grabbing your remote and starting the movie from the very beginning again. “I do not mind. Let’s watch it again. And possibly one more time after, if you become distracted once more.” He was teasing you - a skill he had gotten much better at - and you flush.
And you won’t lie; you and him did get distracted with one another during the second rewatch. But could you blame yourself? Look at him… Isn’t he lovely?
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Okay... I still have no idea how to end fics. But hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated :)
KISSING AND PINCHING SHOTO’S CHEEKS!! PLEASE!! HE’S A BABY WHO DESERVES LOVE!!
Hey, guys! I'm alive. I know it's been a hot minute... I lost touch with myself for a while. But I'm feeling a lot better so I'm back! I plan to play catch-up with the requests that have been sent to me previously before I reopen my customs. Any and all feedback is appreciated, as always, and... I missed you guys. Glad to be back :)
Pairing: Todoroki x Reader
Rating: Fluff
Words: 1,035
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It had been a long day.
Well, for you it had been, at least. You can’t speak for everyone. So by the time the end of the school day arrives, you’re relieved. Now, you could hide in your bedroom for the rest of the day, do your homework as quickly as possible, and then just relax. Maybe read a book or watch a nice movie. At the thought of the latter, you sighed. There was that one movie you were looking at, about a moving castle and the magician who lived in it… Shoto had promised to watch it with you. He actually seemed excited to watch it.
By the time you get to your dorm and finish your homework, the sun is just about to slip past the horizon and shadow Japan in darkness. You had sent your calm boyfriend a text earlier about the movie, and he had responded with a quick “OK” as you had set the time for the night to begin. When 6:30 rolls around, a knock resounds on your bedroom door; barely audible, but you’re lucky that you’re expecting Shoto to come by. Right on time, as always. You swing the door open, already changed into comfortable clothing and freshly washed.
You can never get used to the way Shoto looks in such comfortable clothing, though. Grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt completes his ensemble this evening, hands kept tucked into his pockets and his heterochromia eyes focus on you. A soft smile graces his lips.
“Good evening, snowflake.”
You smile. You love that nickname. “Come on in, Sho.”
Your boyfriend does just that, floating past you and taking the spot on your bed that he had become familiar with over the last handful of months. “We’re watching Howl’s Moving Castle, correct? I have heard that it is very good.” His deep voice rumbles, and you quickly climb into bed and cuddle into his side. Your TV is already on, the movie queued on the screen and just waiting for someone to press play. You hum as a reply to Shoto, grabbing the remote and starting the movie before relaxing into him further.
Part way through the film, as the two of you watch Sophie and Howl move closer and closer together, you turn your attention away from the TV and instead to Shoto. His gaze is locked on the characters, eyes wide and his teal eye brightened by the screen. He’s enchanted by the movie, and you’re enchanted by him. So much that you can’t help but just…
You take the fat of his cheek, pinching it between your thumb and index finger gently. His skin is soft and warm, but you can’t tell if the heat is from his quirk or the deep blush blooming across his pale cheeks. “My love? What are you doing?” His eyes move to you, giving you the full image of his red face. Even after months of dating, it still was a wonder to you on how Shoto got so embarrassed by the smallest actions.
With his face now angled towards you, you take his other cheek in your second hand, now squeezing them both with the concentration level of a surgeon. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink; for a moment, you think he’s stopped breathing. But he hasn’t. Thank goodness.
The hands move from squeezing his cheeks to cupping them, and suddenly you’re pulling yourself up from the spot on your bed to instead plant your lips on his. They’re warm, as always, and your eyelids flutter shut as you kiss him softly before pulling away. Now his face is really on fire, and you can feel him heating up further under your palms. Just for good measure, you go back in for a second one, lingering a bit longer before pulling away and looking up at him. You grin. “Hi, there.”
A deep chuckle resounds from his chest. “Hello, snowflake. Are you enjoying yourself?” Despite his vibrant blush, he’s smiling. You go back to squeezing his cheeks between your fingers.
“Lots of fun, actually. You?”
“Hmm. I am enjoying my time with you. As always.”
He goes silent, ignoring the movie completely and allowing you to play with his cheeks. His patience doesn’t surprise you, and you happily continue to annoy him. “Hey, Shoto?” You ask, still focused on your task. He hums in response, and you continue. “I adore you. You know that, right?”
Just as his blush was beginning to cool down, your words flare it up once more and you suppress a giggle from escaping. “Of course, my love. And I adore you.” He moves forward, and you drop your hands from his face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, then another, and soon he’s peppering your face with them. You laugh, and this pushes him to pursue you further, pushing you further into your mountain of pillows as he continues to blanket your face with the imprint of his lips. After a few minutes, you’re breathless from laughing and Shoto hovers above you, a growing smile on his lips. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other helping to support his body weight above your own. And while a part of you feels terrible for missing the movie, another part wants to continue showering Shoto Todoroki in love. “I love you, Y/N.” Shoto states, and you lift your head up to give him a quick pec.
“And I love you. Always.”
Shoto smiles, and finally you and Shoto situate yourselves better to return your attention to the film. However, as you cuddle closer to him, you notice the credits rolling. You laugh. “So much for the movie, huh?” You joke. Shoto only smiles wider, grabbing your remote and starting the movie from the very beginning again. “I do not mind. Let’s watch it again. And possibly one more time after, if you become distracted once more.” He was teasing you - a skill he had gotten much better at - and you flush.
And you won’t lie; you and him did get distracted with one another during the second rewatch. But could you blame yourself? Look at him… Isn’t he lovely?
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Okay... I still have no idea how to end fics. But hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated :)
