Seraph

🐈‍⬛ | 22 | ⚖️

[chickenno0dle]

How I feel liking stories when I'm not in the mood to read so I can come back and read them later

[kamislop]

Dirty dance floors and dreams of naughtiness

✩┊ PART 2 (and final) of I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor - KiriBaku x reader event for 1K!

synopsis: just a girl who accidentally became friends with the bouncers at her favorite club, who just so happen to be two hot best friends!! contents: 18+ MDNI!!! bouncer!Katsuki Bakugou x partygirl!fem!reader x bouncer!Eijirou Kirishima, there's no time for plot so it's just porn, if you guys think bkg is going to have any control here you're in the wrong place, but everyone is a bit of a switch? idk, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected piv (don't recommend), spit, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, creampies, multiple orgasms wc. 3.4K

you crossed a line the day you hung out with eijirou and katsuki. the day they stopped being the two hot bouncers you messed around with. yes, the three of you texted on the groupcaht often, even when it wasn’t club related, but that was different.

why? because there’s a big difference between sending each other brainrot memes and planning a threesome. though you don’t really plan a threesome, do you? it’s just something that kinda happens after you go out with two best friends a few times, and one moment you’re at the club they work at giving them fuck-me eyes, the next you’re in the backseat of katsuki’s car making out with eijirou.

“oi, cut it out!” the blond barks from the front, shooting you a scowl over the rearview mirror. “that’s leather, and if you do something it’ll—”

“it’ll - mhhm - what, kats?” eijirou teases, a large hand still groping your ass over the sorry excuse of fabric you call a dress when he breaks the kiss. smirking when you chase after the loss of contact. “it just sounds like you’re jealous to me.”

“big boy bakugou is mad he can’t party with us!” you quip, a heady giggle following the tease. “don’t worry baby, there’s enough of me for both of you,” you add, reaching over to drag a finger over the bulging muscle of katsuki’s bicep, hand tightly wrapped on the gearshift. his only reply was a scoff.

“don’t worry ‘bout him,” eijirou coos, grabbing your jaw to shift your attention back to him. “you said it, he’s a big boy. he’ll live,” he cuts off your laugh with another kiss, drinking in your moan. your thigh is slung over his, and we can feel your growing warmer.

“better go faster,” the redhead warns his friend. “i don’t know how much we’ve got left before she turns into a little beast.”

and go faster he did.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

you kiss katsuki in the elevator. it’s different from eijirou. the blond is clumsier, all smacking lips and harsh paws at your body, but you figured he just grew impatient after driving the whole way from the club blue-balled. he pins you against the wall of the hallway, your hands already dipping down his chest, high on the fervor of his kiss.

“i know one of your biggest dreams is spending a night in jail, but let’s focus on ticking off that threesome box first, eh?” eijirou playfully calls out, waiting on the doorway to his and katsuki’s shared apartment, leaning with his elbow against the dark wooden frame. you pull away with a giggle, not noticing the utterly awestruck expression on the blond’s face. “you’re right, you’re right.”

you lead katsuki down the hall, a finger hooked inside his belt, and for once in his life he doesn’t dare to protest. you get to give the living room a quick look, from the cream-colored woods to the dark, sleek furniture, clashing with the flashy posters hanging next to the tv. it’s a perfect balance.

once inside, eijirou is quick to snatch you from his friend to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth with an impatience that already has you clenching around nothing.

he smiles when he feels your hands pawing at his sculpted chest. “needy girl,” eijirou purrs against your lips. “need your big boys to fill you up, hm? yes, you do…” from over your shoulder, he beckons katsuki closer with a nod of his head. “c’mon don’t just stand there".

the blond stalks over slowly, thankful your back is turned to him so you can’t see just how much of a mess he is, mustering up all the confidence he has (and the countless stupid lessons eijirou gave him that for some fucking reason he actually listened to) to place his hands on your waist.

you ease into his touch immediately, one arm snaking around eijirou’s neck, the other around katsuki’s. “much better,” you grin, kissing eijirou again. his friend can only watch, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as he watches the two of you, his cock stirring awake once more.

and he curses when you wiggle your ass right against his front, katsuki’s head dipping to your shoulder, where he leaves a few tentative kisses. pride sparks in his chest when you shiver, the redhead greedily swallowing the moan that spills from your lips.

“turn around f’me now, can’t let kats high and dry like this,” eijirou pulls back, and you obediently follow his hands’ guidance, finding yourself face to face with a pair of ruby eyes. “hey,” you chirp, fingers carding through golden gelled hair.

katsuki doesn’t even have the time to answer before your lips are locking with his, a gasp getting caught in his lungs when he can taste something that’s just so eijirou on you. it shouldn’t make him this excited, desire pooling in his gut at your sweetness on his tongue. the redhead gets sidetracked for a minute, watching the blond’s confidence grow, hand trailing all the way down to your ass.

he smirks, going back to his original plan of falling to his knees with a light thud against the carpeted floor neither of you seem to hear. but you sure do feel eijirou gently parting your thighs and bunch up your dress, katsuki holding the fabric up for him like he knew.

“eiji,” you huff. “what are you— oh, fuck!”

there’s no time for you to get used to it, your soppy cunt gushing into eijirou’s open-mouthed french kiss. “mmh, fucking sweet,” he moans, already pussydrunk. “kats, spread her— mmhh open f’me?”

katsuki didn’t really understand what he meant until the redhead grabbed his hand and put it under your asscheek, the other quickly joining and pulling lightly at the plushy flesh. “oh god!” you mewl, arching into the blond’s chest, his face dipping next to your ear. “you like it?” he rasps, biting right below your ear, down to the point where neck meets shoulder.

you let your forehead fall to his chest, nodding frantically. your head’s a mess, eijirou’s tongue tracing maddening circles around your clit before dipping in and out of your hole, wrenching the most sinful squelches. “eiji…eiji, fuck, right there—” you plea, bunching katsuki’s shirt in your fists to hold yourself up.

“d’you hear that, eiji?” the blond mocks you with sudden confidence, guiding your pliable body back and forth on his friend’s mouth. “oh my god,” you gasp, eijirou’s flat tongue pressing over your slit just right. “oh my god, ‘m gonna—” and then you’re shaking, each moan and slurred cry muffled by katsuki’s bruising kiss. their hands are everywhere, holding you up, leaving marks on every inch of skin they can reach.

you’re not sure which one of them carried you to bed after that, you just know you’re laying on a soft mattress, in a room that’s so painfully clear it belongs to katsuki from the lack of personality. the boys’ clothes - along with your own - were scattered in a sinful trail down the hallway, and your mouth is quite literally watering from the sight before you.

they’re all sculpted muscles and chiselled abs, which weren’t difficult to predict from the usual skin-tight, all black outfits they usually wear, but this is on a whole different level. “like what you see?” eijirou teases, flashing you a wide grin that you mirror. “oh, i do,” you purr, eyes jumping between the two friends. and their other sizes weren’t disappointing either— where katsuki’s was longer, eijirou made up with girth.

“what are you guys waiting for?” you held yourself up on your elbows, butterflies flapping erratically in your stomach once they stalk towards the bed. “i want you—” you point your finger at katsuki. “—here,” you tap your parted lips.

“oh, man,” eijirou whines, but he bites back any complaint when you let your knees fall to the mattress, your pussy, still glistening with your slick and his spit, staring right back at him. he almost jumps on the bed.

“fucking watch it,” katsuki barks, his glaring crimson gaze softening when his eyes fall on you, smiling up at him so sweetly and expecting. he climbs on the bed then, careful not to step on anything with his knees. “so bossy,” you quip, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

he grunts, but it quickly turns into a hiss as your hand snakes up his thigh before wrapping firmly around his cock, head flushed in the prettiest dark pink. eijirou watches, stroking himself a few times before letting a fat wad of spit hit his shaft to make the glide smoother when he rubs between your puffy pussy lips. neither of them says it, but they both need to take a deep breath and focus on not cumming from barely being touched. you’re just so pretty, it’s fucking with their brain.

the moment your mouth opens katsuki is pushing inside, your pleased moan vibrating along his length. he throws his head back with a groan, planting a hand above the headboard for balance. for each inch you’re taking down your throat, eijirou is squeezing into your soppy hole, stretching you around his fat cock.

“sooo fucking tight and pretty, fuck…she’s sucking me in,” the redhead praises, thumb easily finding your clit again, still sensitive from before, just to feel your walls flutter around him. you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing yourself to breathe in through your nose, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth and onto the blond’s shaft.

there’s a collective symphony of the lewdest sounds once you find your rhythm. katsuki’s hands holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face, huffin’ n’ puffin’ above you as you stroke his dick, tounge circling his head to milk out every salty drop of precum.

eijirou’s fingers are digging into your hips hard enough to bruise, the neatly kept, red tufts of hair at his base rubbing against your slit, wrenching a whine out of you with each thrust. praises and curses overlap, sometimes fucking into you to match the pace of your head bobs.

you don’t know how long you’ve kept your eyes shut in bliss for, opening them with a jolt when you hear the unmistakable smacking of lips.

and they’re kissing.

eijirou is holding a fistful of blond hair tight, and the way katsuki bites into his friend’s bottom lip, dragging before their tongue fight against each other tells you this is definitely not the first time they’ve done this. you can only watch in awe, hand idly moving up and down katsuki’s dick in slow, lazy stroke, too distracted by what’s happening.

it’s only when eijirou feels you clench around him that he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting him to his friend until it breaks. he smirks. “who told you to stop?” he reprimands halfheartedly, ramming into you with a punishing snap of his hips. “i was just asking kats here if he feeling good. is she making you feel good?”

he doesn’t let go of his hair, tipping his head back enough to see his adam’s apple bob when he nods, mumbling something unintelligible. “what’s that?” the redhead tugs again, then forcefully makes katsuki turn to you. “don’t have to tell me. tell her, tell her how good she’s making you feel. if her mouth is even half as good as this pussy is, it must be pretty fucking amazing.”

you’re stuffing yourself full of katsuki’s cock again, cheeks hollowing and taking him to the base. he’s flushed, abs twitching with every heaving breath. “fucking good…” he pants, the hand he has pressed against the wall balled up into a fist. “your mouth is so fucking good.”

eijirou chuckles, tapping three fingers flat against your clit, his other hand leaving the other’s hair to hold your leg down when you dare closing them around his waist. he looks over to katsuki. “you want to fuck her?” he hopes the question doesn’t come out too strained, masking the fact that he needs to pull out right fucking now or he’s going to cum.

the blond is a mess, your hands playing with his balls are giving him a hard time, damp golden strands glued to his forehead. he can only reply with a whimper, ruby eyes meeting eijirou’s with a pleading look, even though he knows he won’t make it easy for him. “use your words, like a good boy.”

“yes,” katsuki whines, gazing down at you. “please.”

eijirou pulls out, your hole immediately clenching at the loss as you break away from katsuki, leaving his cock throbbing with need. the redhead pats the side of your thigh in a silent command, and you immediately shuffle to the side. “get on top of kats now, alright?”

all it takes is a look for the blond to take position. “oh, he really is your dog, eiji,” you giggle, cupping his jaw and tugging him down for a sloppy kiss. “that’s so fucking hot.”

“i’m nobody’s fucking dog,” katsuki mumbles, his pout only growing deeper when both you and eijirou turn around and look at him. “whatever…”

you snort softly, throwing a leg over the blond’s lap, his hands immediately settling on your hips. your hand wraps around his shaft to line it up with your drooling hole. eijirou’s chest is pressed flush to your back, fingers finding your waist, slowly maneuvering you to sink down on katsuki’s cock. chin resting on your shoulder so you both can watch him fall apart the moment your pussy sucks in the first couple of inches.

then he’s pushing you down all at once, making the two of you moan in unison so loudly when you’re stuffed full. “f-fuck! fuck you, eiji! a little heads up?” you cry breathlessly, hands planted on the blond’s chest. “d-did i hurt you?” katsuki asks, his poor little self trying his best to keep a somewhat seriously worried face through the overwhelming bliss.

“you’re good, you’re good,” you shake your head reassuringly. “your friend is a bitch though,” you add, hearing a snicker coming from behind you. “focus on kats,” eijirou kisses the side of your throat. “you can call me a bitch later, if you want. it was kinda hot.

you roll your eyes, but it’s hard to ignore katsuki’s hips twitching under you, so you start moving your own up and down, slowly, getting used to his size. the stretch doesn’t sting like his friend’s, but with the new angle you swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs.

your breath gets caught in your throat when eijirou’s index finger slides between your asscheeks, slick with spit, circling your puckered entrance. “you’ve done stuff here before?” he rasps in your ear. you nod. “heh, ‘course you have, naughty girl…go lay down for me then.”

you kiss katsuki when you do, a hand in his hair while the other fists the navy blue sheets, bracing yourself. the blond strokes your back, almost reassuringly, as you ride him slowly, groaning loudly in your mouth when your walls clamp down on him. “f-fuck, eiji…” you’re crying out, stretched on two of his fat digits.

“you’re taking us so well,” eijirou coos. “just getting you ready ‘cause this is gonna be a biiiiig stretch,” he spits again, scissoring his fingers until he can fit a third one. “eijirou, she’s going to fucking cut my dick off…shit—” katsuki bites down on your shoulder. “my steak too juicy, my lobster too buttery,” the redhead mumbles. “i can’t wait to feel this tight little ass on me,” he hunches over to press a kiss to your butt before withdrawing his fingers. “buckle up now, both of you.”

“you better be gentle,” you sneer, looking over your shoulder. “or i am cutting your dick off, kirishima.” the only answer you get is a toothy, shit-eating grin.

tears well up in your eyes when eijirous starts easing in, but both boys are worshiping every inch of you that it transcends the painful sting. “oh my god…” katsuki breaks the brief silence. he can feel his friend’s cock sliding so close to him, and your pussy contracting around him is positively short-circuiting his brain.

“what’s up, kats? getting overwhelmed?” eijirou taunts from above, then squeezes your ass. “see that? how about we pick up the pace now?” you flash him a smile, gasping when he grabs a fistful of you hair to pull you up, back arching oh so pretty.

only once he’s sure he won’t hurt you does he start going rough, the double stimulation wrenching screams out of you that bounce off the walls of katsuki’s room. the blond has no clue what to do with himself, panting and gripping the bedsheets so tight he might rip them to shreds. he doesn’t hold an ounce of control over the situation, he can only watch your tits bounce over his face, the pace set by eijirou, who’s drilling into you hard enough he can hear his balls slap against your skin.

“i-i can’t…slow down…oh fuck, oh fuck—” and then he’s spilling inside you. but he’s not sure either of you have realized, because you’re milking him until he’s raw and sensitive and then more. “eiji…please, harder! wan’ you to go harder, fuck!”

katsuki is too fucked out to protest, whining as your pussy gushes his cum and your slick back on him in short sprays, coating his stomach. he might as well be high right now, and whatever it is…he’s fucking addicted. it’s eijirou who snaps him out of his trance. “kats, rub her clit,” he orders, sounding almost as delirious as he feels. “can tell this pretty is close. hm? aren’t you?”

you’re sobbing, hips moving frantically as you try to fuck back into both of them, chasing your own high. “yes! yes, pleasepleaseplease— katsuki, please!” you mewl when his thumb finds your puffy nub, drawing tight circles into it. he pushes himself up to catch one of your nipples between his lips, driving you right over the edge. your orgasm topples eijirou into his own, and katsuki is glad neither of you supposedly didn’t notice his first, because his second load is filling you to the brim.

then there’s silence. well, not really silence, the room filled with heavy breaths as all three of you try to find some semblance of lucidity. you’re moving in slow motion, the boys careful when they’re pulling out of you so you can collapse on the mattress, flanked by their hot bodies.

“that was insane,” you whisper, swallowing loudly the bit of saliva your dry mouth is still able to produce. “insane doesn’t even begin to explain it,” eijirou chuckles. “i’m gonna get some water.”

you turn to katsuki once his friend has left the room. “hey,” you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder. “are you alright?” he nods, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “i’m great,” he replies gruffly. “are you okay?” his fingers brush against the back of your hand.

“i’ll definitely be sore,” you sigh. “haven’t been so flexible in a looong while, y’know?” he chuckles, shaking his head.

eijirou reappears in the doorway, holding a water bottle. “hey, do you know that was katsuki’s first time? i say we ought to celebrate!” you whip to the side, eyes wide and brows brushing to your hairline. “no fucking way!” you cackle loudly.

“yes way!” the redhead laughs, approaching. katsuki pushes himself up on one elbow. “eijirou, what the fuck!” he waves his other hand angrily. eijirou completely ignores his friend to hand you the water, which you take gladly, sipping two big gulps.

“if we don’t count the times i sucked his dick,” he shrugs. you choke, coughing in disbelief.

“oi!” katsuki protests once more.

“yeah, and i sucked his.”

your forehead falls against katsuki’s side, laughing uncontrollably. he can’t do anything but sigh, snatching the bottle from your lips to quench his own thirst. “i hate you guys, by the way.”

eijirou plops down on the bed, the mattress dipping with an obnoxious squeak. “no you don’t,” he pushes katsuki playfully. “aren’t you already thinking about the next time we’re doing this?” you straighten up at that, smiling ear to ear.

“i know i am!”

┊┊a/n. the fact that this took so damn long to get done is a reminder for me to NEVER post an incomplete series ever again and to wait until i've written everything to put it up. ANYWHOO krbk kissing since pride month starts tomorrow lol

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[soraphicdeactivated]

When you were very young, if you'd lost something, your mother always told you to retrace your steps.

Lost your favourite toy? Where did you last have it?

Can't find your sparkly pink bike helmet? Go backwards, we'll go to the park and see if you left it there.

But lost your mind in your twenties? Dickmatised by your boyfriend's best-friend? That would be hard to find a way back from.

You tried retracting your steps. Truly, you did. Rifling through memories like a madwoman, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything seemed to change. When being sure became something you didn't remember how to be and suddenly all you're left with is questions. Endless questions.

You know when it changed for Izuku. Could see it in his eyes the night this whole misalliance started. Staring at his best-friend balls deep inside of you like it's the most beautiful display of erotica he's ever seen. But you and Katsuki? That, you're not sure you'll ever really figure out.

You look for answers in every interaction, every delusional, harmless display of affection. That stupid, late night cigarette that kickstarted this entire thing.

"Katsuki?"

Spiky tufts of blonde hair, dishevelled by wind and the fact he's clearly been running his fingers through it, turn on you to reveal a moonlit face you'd grown to find a strange comfort in over the last 5 years.

"What're you doing out here? You don't even smoke."

The pack between your fingers trembles slightly in the wind. It's bitter enough to warrant a jacket, which you left inside, but just warm enough that the liquor swirling your stomach is enough to keep you from shivering. He eyes the open box, silent in his judgement and you roll your eyes, taking a cigarette between your lips as you fumble for a lighter.

"Quit judging. We don't all deal with our stress by punching the shit out of people for a living."

You're closer now, leaning over the railing beside him as you light the end over the high rise balcony of this fancy, new apartment. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki's house warming party. Though, really it's more Yaoyorozu's, and Todoroki disappeared half way through the night, probably to lock himself in the nearest guest room and avoid socialising altogether. Clearly, you and Katsuki can relate.

He eyes the cigarette between your lips, the way your sticky gloss leaves a pink residue around the paper as you pull it from your mouth and exhale a long puff of smoke. It's hard not to wonder what he's thinking when he looks like this— all cool and collected and mysterious. He turns back to the busy streets below before replying, "Deku buying you the cheap shit now?"

"Hm?" You hum, taking another drag as you study his face from this angle.

"The cigs." He motions toward the paper between your lips with his shoulder, eyes on you once more, "They're not the ones you like. You smoke camels."

You stop mid exhale for a moment, turning the steadily burning cig over in your fingers like you're only just realising that for yourself for the first time too. "Oh. I guess you're right." full exhale, "I picked up the nearest pack to the counter on the way here. Didn't really have a lot of time, you know how Izuku gets about being late."

He hums in acknowledgment at this, a shared experience for the two of you. Except, Katsuki's probably been dealing with Izuku's compulsion to being on time for a lot longer than you have.

There's a beat of silence. Comfortable silence. Cosy silence. The kind you don't often find when Bakugo's around. It leaves you time to study the side of his face, the jagged scar across his cheek that glows in the pale light of the moon and you notice how relaxed his jaw is for once. Just loose enough to soften around the edges, which makes him look almost inviting. You think he looks beautiful like this, mull over the urge to tell him. As friends, of course. You're not sure why you don't.

"You didn't answer my question." You tap the ash over the balcony, avoiding those crimson eyes and the almost definite scrutiny in them. That's just how Katsuki is. Always observing. Always to himself.

"What's that?"

"Why're you out here all alone?" You eye with something dangerously close to concern that makes his chest squeeze uncomfortably and for a moment he almost looks winded as he looks back down onto the amber flashing of the traffic lights down below.

"Not my kind of party."

"No party is your kind of party." you laugh, sweet and melodic, and he glares at you. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, "Not my fault you hate everyone." You sway, only really because the balls of your feet are really starting to hurt in these heels but he watches you like he's ready to catch you if you fall. You know he would, too.

"I don't hate everyone." The grumble he talks in isn't very convincing, which he can tell by the raise of your eyebrows, so he doubles down. "I don't hate you."

You scoff, but it holds no malice, just that light-hearted banter between old friends. "You tolerate me because you love Izuku."

A snort, "See, another person I don't hate."

"So the only two people you don't completely hate are me and your childhood best-friend?"

He pretends to think about it for a second before replying, "Your sister's okay." You really laugh at that— the hearty, unashamed kind— leaning over the railing like a madwoman, head thrown back against his bicep kind of laughter. Katsuki only scrunches his nose, "What's so funny?"

"The only other person you could think of was my sister?" You're wiping invisible tears from the corners of your eyes and he thinks you're being a little dramatic, but he doesn't point it out.

"She's. . .funny." He tries to defend, but it doesn't even sound convincing to his own ears and he cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. You only laugh harder, doubling over until your hands are on your knees and you're practically folded in halve over a joke he didn't even mean to make.

"You've met her once! And all she did all night was make fun of Izuku!"

He simply rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way the corners of his mouth threaten to pull up into a smile. "Yeah, okay, laugh it up. At least you won't catch me on the front page of a newspaper." Another giggle from you, one that has him wondering if it's always been so easy to make you laugh, and if so why hasn't he heard that kind of laugh from you before?

"Wow, okay. Here you go with the whole 'You're too nice (Y/N), don't talk to strangers (Y/N)' lecture again." You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't leave.

"Maybe I'm sick'a savin' you." He grunts, and you audibly gasp.

"That was one time! How was I supposed to know that guy wasn't actually looking for the nearest phone box?"

He shakes his head, "He was wearin' a fuckin' balaclava."

"We were outside the club! It was dark!"

"You're just lucky I was standin' outside."

"Oh yeah, my knight in shining armour." You tease, leaning further toward him again just to poke him in the side, which he winces at. You furrow your brows, and he clearly doesn't want you to ask by the way he's shuffling a little further away and avoiding your eye. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothin'. Just a little scraped up from my last fight."

"Let me see." You press, moving closer until your hands are bunching up the hem of his sweatshirt and he's stopping you with two hands on your wrists.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"I don't believe you." You mumble, pushing the hem further until you're able to catch a glimpse of the blackened skin of his torso. You gasp almost immediately, shoving his clothing further up until he's practically shirtless in front of you, typically pale skin bloomed in shades of yellow, purple and straight up black as he grunts and winces with the strain of the movement. "Fuck, Katsuki, have you had anyone take a look at this?"

"You're lookin' at it right now, aren't you?" If you weren't so concerned, you would've shoved your fingers into his sides over his ability to give such a snarky comment while you're just trying to help.

"You could have internal bleeding, how long have you had this?" You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and he knows he doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve this kind of doting, nor the painstakingly gentle glide of your fingers across his abdomen. Featherlight touches lighting sparks across his skin, and if he weren't so focused on the light flooding in from the party still very much in full swing behind you he might have let you do this for as long as you wanted.

But then the doors are sliding open, noise pollution spilling into the quiet cocoon of space the two of you had made for yourselves away from it all and a familiar mess of green curls is stumbling out. So Katsuki does what he does best, he pulls away.

"Baby!" Izuku drawls, attaching himself to your side like he hasn't seen you all night and in seconds it seems you've managed to forget all about Katsuki's injuries. "Been lookin' for you everywhere. Thought you ran away." He mumbles into your skin, nose pressed to where your neck meets your jaw and you laugh— that same mirthful giggle as before— and he knows he deserves even worse for the way his ow smile drops at the scene in front of him.

"I've only been out for like ten minutes, Izu." You chuckle, nails running over his scalp the same way they had run over Katsuki's skin moments prior and he wonders what it would feel like to know you meant it.

"Too long." He sighs, body falling limp in your hold like it's the best thing he's felt all night, which it probably is. You let him breathe you in for a moment before you're catching Katsuki's awkward gaze over the thick block of muscle that is your boyfriend and pushing him upright with a smile that's anything but the slightest bit annoyed at his inebriated behaviour. Just quietly amused, like this whole thing is endearing for you.

He only seems to notice Katsuki when he stands to his full height, eyes lighting up the same way they always did when he was faced with his best-friend and he's quick to pull him into the embrace, mumbling an excited "Kacchan, you're here too!" as he holds the two of you in an uncomfortably close, three-way hug and you're left a tangle of limbs on your friends' balcony.

"Get the fuck off me, nerd." He struggles, but you just smile and wrap your arms around the two of them, like this is the most normal thing you've done all night and he knows deep down if the two of you let him he'd stay here forever. It's only when Bakugo mumbles, "You're crushin' your girlfriend." that Izuku lets up, releasing the two of you from his sweaty embrace in favour of swinging his arm around your shoulder as he sparks up whatever random conversation his drunken brain seems to want to have and the two of you are left shooting eachother lopsided smiles over how adorably drunk your boyfriend is.

But that was normal. At least, you try to convince yourself it was. Glancing over at that familiar mess of curls as it snores a blissful symphony of exhaustion beside you.

You sigh, sitting up and scrubbing your hands across your face. You'd have to look closer. Closer to when this all began and you find yourself circling back to the same night over and over, the night all these fruitless fantasies solidified into something real.

"Bakugo! You showed up!"

Kirishima was one of Izuku's many friends that you decided to love wholeheartedly the first time you had met him way back in university. He had started the conversation with fussing over how in love the two of you were, how you were all Izuku seemed to talk about for the last six months and how excited everyone was to finally be able to put a face to the name. The two of you bonded over your shared affection toward the freckle faced boy pretty quickly, which soon blossomed into a valuable friendship over the years.

Bakugo, however, didn't seem so pleased to see him.

"Yeah, whatever, Shitty hair. I'm not staying for long."

That familiar grumble only made the red head erupt into hearty laughter, slapping an arm around the irritated blonde as he drags him to the private table Mina made sure to book in advance for such a large party.

He spots you and Izuku first, curled up against eachother in the wide booth as you nurse the edge of a half empty wine glass, the drink sparkling in the dim, yellow light. Izuku holds what looks to be some kind of fruity cocktail, which Bakugo refrains from making any sort of comment on as he slides into the booth beside you, that same, lint covered hoodie sliding up his forearms as he glides them across the sticky table.

"Kacchan! How did it go?" Izuku sits up, leaning across you to converse with his friend, who slouches back against the booth like he wants to be anywhere else right now.

"Kicked his ass. The dumb extra gave all that talk just to get knocked out second round."

The table erupts in cheers, a few of the girls holding their glasses up in celebration of his win and he looks down at his grazed knuckles as if to avoid the attention.

"Man, I wish we coulda seen it. Future heavyweight champion Bakugo Katsuki!" Denki cheers once more, waving his glass that spills over the marble tabletop and Sero gets up with a grumble in search of a napkin.

"You didn't give him too hard of a beating though, right?" Mina asks, sliding in to claim Sero's empty spot across the table from the three of you. "I mean, you still let him get up after?"

"Nah. Kid's six foot under. Showed up to invite you guys to the funeral." He jokes, but his face remains sat in that same old scowl despite it.

"I wouldn't put it past you, Bakubro. Sometimes you turn into a beast in the ring." Kirishima returns with a tray of shots, placing them on the table and offering the first to Bakugo, who politely declines.

"Aw, come on, Bakugo! This is your first night out with us in like. . .forever!" Mina whines, and Denki nods beside her.

"You won the fight man, now's the time to let loose a little!"

"If Kacchan drank each time he won a fight, this would be an intervention." Izuku chimes in beside you, taking a sip of his drink with his free hand that isn't slung over your shoulders.

Katsuki gives a nod of approval beside you, but you lean forward to push a shot glass each in front of the three of you. One orange, one green and one bright purple with little shimmers floating around inside. "I'm sorry we didn't get to come watch, the least you could do is celebrate the win with us." You suggest, urging him to take his pick.

He thinks for a moment, lips pursed like he's mulling it over before muttering, "Fuck it." and making a grab for the orange glass, downing it in one without waiting for you or Midoriya to take yours alongside him.

The table erupts in cheers again, watching like giddy teenagers as Bakugo swallows hard, face screwing at the bitter taste of the hard liquor disguised as 'sweet' on the menu.

"(Y/N) the Bakugo whisperer! Teach me your ways!" Kirishima laughs, hand slamming the table a few times as you shrug, a coy smile painting your lips.

"Maybe I'm just better than all of you." You tease, fingers wrapping around the pink glass as you nudge Izuku to take the vibrant green beside it, sharing a glance before downing each of your shots in sync with one another.

"Yeah," Bakugo coughs, still processing his own drink, "or maybe she's the only one with a fuckin' brain."

"I dunno, she's been with Midoriya for. . . how many years?" Denki jokes, earning him an elbow from Mina.

You smile at the mention, fingers interlocking with his against your lap, the denim skirt you're wearing riding up slightly with the movement. "Five. Next week."

"Ugh! You two are like. . ultimate couple goals!" Mina gushes, face pressed to her hands against the table like she's witnessing true glory up close.

Izuku smiles at that, turning to press a kiss to your cheek and pull you a little closer to his side, which in turn has the whole table erupting in childish coos. "To many more." He practically beams, retrieving his original glass just to clink it with yours against the table and take another swig, which you return.

More cocktails, a few rounds of karaoke and a boat load of shots later and everyone seems to have found themselves their own little space in the crowded bar.

It's late, probably later than it should've been, and Katsuki has to continuously remind himself that he's supposed to be 'letting loose' and to relax his shoulders each time they wind up by his ears.

He's drunk. Not wasted, he offered to be the sober driver because he didn't trust either of you to make it home in one piece, but enough to feel the tingle in his fingertips as they rest against the thighs of his jeans in the bar stool he's found himself perched upon. Beside him, Deku's humming along to some cheesy pop song he doesn't think he's heard before, umpteenth drink in hand as he sways slightly with every new melody that blasts through the crackly speakers.

You're not far. Maybe about a metre or two away, bent over the bar as you point at the row of colourful bottles behind the barman, dictating which one you'd like to choose for your next round, which you graciously offered to provide for the two boys. Your two boys, as you called it.

It was funny, being called yours. Izuku didn't seem to mind, of course he didn't. He was yours. Had been since the day he sat next to you in his first aid course, vital for becoming a teacher, though you had been pursuing nursing at the time.

Katsuki only became yours by association. He was Izuku's, he knew that. Didn't need to be said, nor addressed. He just was, always had and always would be. Things worked out that way, worked just fine and didn't need to be messed with. But then you came along, and suddenly there was a new person to not completely hate. A new person to laugh at his rude, and probably inappropriate, jokes. A new set of tastebuds to try all his cooking. A new set of his hands to clap and a voice to cheer his name in the stands of a boxing ring. A new place in that cold and withered heart of his to be filled.

You became part of him, because you were part of Izuku. And now, the three of you were part of eachother. He thinks maybe you all share part of the same soul, which he would never admit out loud, because if anyone asked he didn't believe in that corny shit. But he did. Seeing you and Izuku it was hard not to believe two people could be made for eachother, and he thinks maybe you were kind of made for him too.

So hell, if you wanted to claim him as yours, he wouldn't stop you. As long as he got to exist in your guys' orbit.

You shoot them both a smile over your shoulder as you wait for the drinks to be prepared, that same drunk flush in your cheeks he knew meant trouble even on a good day. You're tapping your nails against the bar, waiting patiently like the good girl you are, when a familiar intro has your entire body lighting up.

"Oh my god! It's our song!"

You're darting over to take one of Izuku's hands in yours, pulling him to his feet with no complaints as you fight to take Katsuki's in your other. He lets you hold it, but doesn't budge, shaking his head. "No way. I'm stayin' here."

"Kacchan! Don't be boring! You love this song!" Deku pouts, arm wrapping around your waist on instinct to toy with the hem of your cropped shirt.

"You love this song. I suffer through it every time I give you two a ride because I have to."

"I see you tapping your fingers against the steering wheel every time it plays!" You argue, nodding along with Izuku.

"That's a nervous habit." He grunts, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"No, that's a nervous habit." You correct, motioning toward his fingers, which quickly flex into balled fists at your acknowledgment. "You tap when you enjoy things!"

"I don't." He practically growls, but the blush across his cheeks gives him away almost immediately and Deku's already dragging him to his feet with a lot more force than you had.

"You so do!" He laughs, already beginning to sway with you as he drags Katsuki with you as collateral. "You tap your feet every time you listen to Foo Fighters!"

It's loud on the dance floor, cramped with sweaty bodies and the three of you have to shout to hear eachother now. "I like the drums!" He tries to argue over the sound, but the two of you have slipped into your own little world, dancing hand in hand to the beat of your favourite song.

He's too stiff too dance. Surprisingly uncoordinated despite his profession, so he settles for watching the two of you instead. You're so close you may as well be part of eachother, chests bumping with each bounce of your heels and laughs mixing into one breath as you twirl and spin around one another. Deku takes your hand in his, extending his arm to spin you once or twice before you're collapsing back against his chest, head thrown back in that same joyful laughter as the night on the balcony.

This goes on for a few more songs and a few more rounds of shots, which Katsuki declines under the excuse of him driving, until he's herding the two of you into his vehicle at god knows what time and grumbling about making sure you get home safe.

He helps you into the backseat, tries to with the help of Deku, who's still reasonably sober compared to you— a mess of flailing limbs and wet kisses pressed to your boyfriend's chubby cheeks as they box you into the backseat.

Katsuki's just about to round to the drivers side, Deku in tow with the passengers seat before you're grabbing him by his collar and begging him to stay with you.

"Don't leave me alone, Izu. Sit with me." You whine, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and he looks a little embarrassed at how publicly you're seconds away from groping him in front of his best-friend, but Katsuki just nods, urging him to join you, which he does, like the dutiful boyfriend he is.

The car rides filled with awkward silence as Katsuki tries to focus on the road, on anything but the way you're practically straddling Izuku in the rearview mirror, legs slung over his lap and your tongue hot against his neck as you sigh into him, sweet little murmurs about how cute he is, how much you love him. All the things that should be done in private.

"Baby, we're in the car." Deku mumbles when you try to turn one chaste peck into multiple open mouthed kisses, practically salivating over him before you've even made it to your side of town.

"He doesn't mind." You whisper, teeth running along his throat in a way that makes him stifle a groan. "Do you, Kacchan?" You lean forward, into the front seat and Bakugo has to grit his teeth to stop himself from swerving off the road.

It's the first time you've called him that. The first time you've called him anything besides his government name and something about it being Deku's name for him that you're using makes his stomach flutter.

His lack of answer is enough for you, and you're plopping yourself right back into Izuku's lap and pulling him in by his hair for a sloppy kiss. "See? I told you. He's a good friend, he doesn't mind."

A good friend. God, if he was a good friend he wouldn't be fighting so hard to stay in control just from watching the two of you like this. Wouldn't be driving one handed just so he can keep adjusting his jeans to make sure neither of you catch a glimpse of the bulge that's threatening to rip out of his zipper. Wouldn't be driving the speed limit just so he gets to keep the two of you in his backseat for longer.

He unlocks the door with a button from the drivers seat when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. Nothing but a soft 'click' of the lock opening to say goodbye. But that, obviously, isn't enough for you.

You're stumbling around to the passenger seat window, knocking on the glass and begging him to roll it down just so you can lean into the glorious smell of his leather seats a little longer and take a deep inhale, sighing out that, "Your car smells so good, Kacchan. Smells like you."

He buffers for a moment. Flexes his hand on the steering wheel and eyes Deku over your shoulder through the passenger seat window like he's asking for permission to accept the compliment.

"Could you help me get her upstairs?" He asks. A genuine favour from his best-friend, for your boys to help put you to bed and he'd be a real asshole if he said no.

So he helps lumber you up four flights of stairs, eventually opting to carry you bridal style up the last two after you and Midoriya nearly rolled down the second. You're babbling the whole time, running your nose along his hairline and taking slow breaths like he's a pack of camels and you're trying to get in as much smoke as possible before he burns out.

"Izu says you smell good, too. Says he likes keeping your sweatshirts 'cause they smell like you. Isn't that cute, Kacchan?"

He ignores you because he doesn't know what else to do. Because Deku's got his back to him, practically marching up the stairs and he can almost feel the scarlet of his cheeks from here. Because a good friend wouldn't embarrass him by acknowledging this. And he's trying so hard to be a good friend.

He only places you back on your feet when you touch down on the floor of your shared apartment and the doors safely closed. Only takes his hands off your waist when he's sure you can stand. Deku still won't make eye contact, and he thinks maybe this is his punishment for letting things carry on so long in the car.

But then you're pressing your face to his chest, nuzzling against him like you've forgotten which one's which and sighing into him, "We love y'so much, Kacchan. You know that, right?"

He rubs a hand over your back. Doesn't know why. Trails his fingers through the ends of your curls and even pulls one around his finger just to feel it bounce back like it was never there. Like this will all be a distant memory tomorrow morning and you'll go back to being his best-friend's girlfriend. That this will have never happened.

Deku's watching him now. Not angry, just quiet. Eyes glassy and kiss-bitten lips parted like he's seeing him for the first time. Like he's watching some sort of puzzle fall into place and suddenly the warmth of your body pressed against him is gone and you're trailing back to Izuku, running your nails over his scalp the way you had before and pressing sloppy kisses to his jawline.

Katsuki thinks he should leave. Knows he should. But he doesn't, stands there like he doesn't know where to put himself, holding eye contact with his best-friend while you lick a long stripe from his jaw to his cheek and break into that familiar grin.

"He can stay, can't he, Izu?" You hum, shooting Katsuki an assessing glance before whispering, "I think he wants to watch."

It's so fucking twisted, which must be why he stays. Must be why he watches you palm his best-friends cock through his jeans, wishes it was his. It's why he obeys when you tell him to, "Sit.", legs spread wide across your sofa as you clamber yourself into his lap, Izuku right behind you, hands trailing your side like he's been waiting for this as you run your nose along his Kacchan's jaw.

"You're so lonely, Kacchan. So sad and lonely. We want to help you." You whisper, and he thinks he feels tears brimming his lash line, eyes falling shut as the first one falls, cascading down his cheek, only to be lapped up by your hot tongue against his skin. "'S okay," you coo, carding gentle fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp just right in a way that makes him preen, groaning to the touch, "You don't have to cry. We've got you."

Your fingers bunch the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting it over his head and he doesn't fight. Raises his arms and lets you pull it off, only to be thrown somewhere and surely be kept by the two of you. The bruise is healing now, more yellow than purple, almost green in places, but still tender enough to warrant care and you are oh so careful with him. Sliding down until you're on your knees between his legs, pressing kiss after kiss along the lean muscle of his abs, across the blood-rushed skin and his head lolls back against the sofa, only to be caught by Izuku's hands in his matted hair, keeping him upright.

"Stay awake, baby. We can't take care of you properly if you don't keep your eyes on us." He chastises, but his voice is so fucking gentle. So fucking sweet and Bakugo thinks this must be some kind of fucked up mind game, some cruel trick to mock him for how badly he wanted this.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out, voice thick with tears but Izuku only shushes him, hand rubbing over his hairline to push his sticky hair from his forehead and run his thumb over the silvery scar there.

"You don't have to be sorry. You never have to be sorry. Not with us."

He nods, because what else is he supposed to do. Glassy eyes trained on the only constant he's ever known as he lets his girlfriend run her tongue over the waistband of Katsuki's jeans. He feels like he's floating, the only part of his body he's still in control of being his hand flexing at his knee. Tensed, like he so desperately wants to make a grab for your hair, and Izuku think it's adorable how much he holds himself back for fear of overstepping a line that isn't even really there anymore.

Does Katsuki know he wants him to fuck you? He fights a grin at the thought. His dumb, fucked out best-friend all flustered when he realises that he's allowed to have this. That he'll willingly give it to him.

Still, he does find it a little inconsiderate that Kacchan's the one getting all the attention. After all, it's him that splits you open almost every night. His cock that you crawl home to, his name that you whisper while you sleep, his couch in the apartment he bought you on the first viewing just because you said you liked the windows, and now Katsuki's about to be the one to claim your mouth first on that very same couch.

All it takes it two firm taps against your shoulder and you're stilling almost immediately, fingers tucked in Katsuki's belt loops as you pull back to look up at your boyfriend, a dopey grin on your face. He smiles, running a soothing hand across your cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear— "Why don't you show him how you do it first, hm? Don't wanna overwhelm him."

You blink up at him a few times— these slow, loving, cat-like blinks— ping ponging between his face and Katsuki's crotch as if mulling the idea over in your head before a wicked smile spreads across your face and you're turning to face him, hands already pawing at his zipper. He laughs, stroking a palm over your scalp to rest at the back of your head as you smile up at him, giddy with anticipation. "Let me sit down first, baby." He takes a seat on the opposite couch, leaving nothing but a small, hickory coffee table between the three of you and pats his thigh expectantly, "C'mere."

You perch in between his knees like this is the only thing you've been waiting to do all day and you almost purr when he caresses your jaw. "Open." He commands, but it isn't rough. Just firm, casually dominating in a way that's almost out of character for him. You obey, even going the extra mile to slide out your tongue and tip your head back. He presses his thumb against the muscle, pushing it flat against your chin with a hum, "That's it. Good girl. Little wider, sweetheart."

You always get like this when you drink. All soft and pliant, begging to be fucked dumb. To be bossed around so that tired little brain of yours doesn't have to put in any work. It's funny really, jarring almost and he gets off on the idea of how stunned Kacchan must be right now. How untoward this must be for him. To see you, the headstrong loudmouth you are, knelt between his knees like a fucking house pet and letting him guide your mouth over his cock.

It's not always like this. Sometimes he's the one kneeling, which is equally just as fun, but it's what makes times like this always so special. They don't come often, so when they do, who is he to deny his sweet girl of what she so desperately needs? What kind of boyfriend would that make him? And now that you have an audience he's only all the more intent on thoroughly pleasing you in front of your guest.

It's messy when you swallow his cock. Drool peeking down the sides of your lips, pooling at the tufts of bright green hair at the base of him and you moan over him when his hand finds the base of your hair, fingers curling through the strands, a gentle reminder that he's there. "Doin' so good, sweet girl. You're so beautiful. So perfect." His hazel eyes twinkle at you, round with adoration and Katsuki nearly chokes on his own tongue when they land on him, "Isn't she, Kacchan?"

His knee jumps, "Yeah. Yeah, she's— she's great." His chest heaves, voice tight like the air burns and Midoriya's brows furrow, unsatisfied.

"Great? Is that—" he moans, loud and unfiltered, when you constrict around the tip of him, never breaking eyes until he's ready to continue. "You can do better than that. I know you can."

"I don't—" he grits his teeth, eyes screwing shut as he presses his feet hard against the parquet flooring in the effort to steady his legs, "Fuck, what do you want me to say?"

He smiles at that, eyes falling back on you, head tilting to the side in that unashamed admiration of the girl beneath him. "I think you're making him nervous, honey." he addresses you directly and you look up, humming in acknowledgment before releasing him with a 'pop.' You sit up a little higher, turning to Katsuki with a wet chin and wide eyes, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking back up at Izuku like you're waiting for permission for something. He nods, chin tucked toward Katsuki, "You can help."

You're up in seconds, leaning down to give your boyfriend a passionate kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth and your fingers curling around his jaw before your eyes lock on Katsuki.

They're different now. Smaller, no longer wide with love but narrow with something else. Lust, maybe. Or maybe this is a punishment. A reckoning. Karma for all the late night phone calls, the stolen brushes of skin in dimly lit classrooms, the silent claim he's kept over your boyfriend since they were children that never really went away. Not even after you, not even while craving you just as badly. Whatever it is, you look you're about to eat him alive, and he thinks— knows he's going to let you.

You grip his chin with two fingers and his entire being shifts, world spinning on its axis like your touch has just given him every reassurance he needed to be okay with this now. Just for now. To have his cake and eat it too.

You straddle him again, thick thighs bracketing his hips and he fights off a groan at the heat of your skin through the denim. "Do you want me to help you, Kacchan?" It's a simple question. So fucking simple, but his brain short circuits. He blinks, dumbly, and you pout at him. "We don't have to do anything—"

Two strong hands grip your hips, keeping you flush to him, panic set in the intensity of his hold. "No. I— shit." His voice breaks, he tries to bite it back. "I wanna fuckin' ruin you." The admission flies out of him and his lips set like he wants to drag it back in as soon as it leaves, but your entire body seems to lit up at his confession, head turning over your shoulder to shoot Izuku a look that reads as slightly amused. He nods, slow and convincing, from his position on the couch and it's only then Katsuki registers the steady stroking of his hand over his cock.

You lean in, hands braced against his shoulders and lips brushing his ear with a lazy smirk, "I think it's going to be the other way around."

Izuku always fucks you well. He's slow, considerate, intent full with his touches. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with practiced hands after a particularly long and trialling day.

But katsuki? Katsuki fucks like he wants to do damage.

Hips rutting against yours with so much force the couch scrapes across the floorboards a little with each thrust, filling the room with creaks and slaps of wet skin against skin as he groans over you, "Wanted to do this for so long. Fuck, bet you wanted this too, didn't you? Couldn't fuckin' help yourself." His hot breath fans your face with each pant, eliciting spark-like tingles across your skin and all you can do is nod and reach for him, nails scraping along his back in a way that makes him arch his spine, burying himself into you that little bit deeper.

"Shit, you're so tight. Couldn't wait to get me like this, huh? Bet it's all you two freaks think about each time he fucks you." He's babbling, totally pussy drunk and it comes out more volatile than either of you could have expected when he stepped through the front door. "Does he like seeing you like this? Like watching you cream on another man?" Izuku is still sitting directly opposite the both of you, but he hasn't been directly acknowledged by either of you, save for the way your eyes flick to the hand pumping his leaking dick every so often, since Katsuki first slipped it in. You mewl, which isn't a direct denial, but Katsuki still smirks above you, crimson eyes dropping down to watch the way you quiver around him before flitting back up to your face. "Or is it just me? Only me that gets to fuck this pretty pussy while he watches?"

"Just— just you. Only you."

His jaw goes loose, swollen lips parted as a guttural groan rips from his throat. "Yeah, fuckin' right it's only me." a particularly hard thrust knocks the air from your lungs, "Only me."

He's confident now. Cocky just from the way he's got you, dumb on his cock, and it's enough to have him turning over his shoulder with a shit eating grin, addressing Deku directly with, "You watchin', nerd? Look at how fucked out she is, all dumb on my cock." he mutters, turning back just to run his eyes over the way your tits jump with the stuttered breath you take in at his humiliating words.

Izuku smirks, uncharacteristically smug for him. "I think she likes you, Kacchan."

He laughs, breathy and hoarse, "Ya fuckin' think? Clenchin' me like her life depends on it."

You remember now, how something had shifted deep inside your gut. How those boys, your boys, had shifted your entire being.

You think you find it now. Here, in this memory. Of Katsuki between your legs, and Izuku by your side. The best of both worlds, both of your worlds, in one place.

You realise that nothing is lost. Nothing was ever really found. That this was there all along, from the day you were seated next to that bushy browed, green haired boy on the first day of first aid training way back in University. You might not have officially met Katsuki then, but deep down you know you had. That in knowing Midoriya, you knew him too. Because it's possible to love one without loving the other.

And you know now, that it's okay to love both. Because fuck, you do.

[smolivin]

thinking about dating izuku and you haven’t met katsuki yet. you obviously know who he is and izuku talks about him constantly – but it’s always kacchan. never katsuki, never bakugo, never great explosion murder god or even just dynamight, just kacchan.

so you think maybe that’s what he likes to be called and when you do finally meet him you greet him with a huge smile on your face – “hi kacchan! it’s so nice to finally meet you, i’ve heard so much about you!”

an he reacts with complete confusion. it seems like he might be angry but he just goes, “wha–that’s–i’m not–” and then he flushes a little and goes quiet and just says, “yeah. nice to meet you or whatever,” but he has to turn around for a second because he’s getting redder and redder by the second and hearing deku’s attractive partner call him kacchan is making him feel a little crazy. izuku is obviously not correcting you or saying anything because he doesn’t even register what you said as out of the ordinary. he’s just psyched you guys are meeting and seem to be getting along.

you only realize when you call him kacchan in front of their other friends and everyone laughs and starts teasing him about it. you’re confused because doesn’t everyone call him that? and then kaminari tells you no, and if anyone else but izuku tried they’d get their ass beat so you must be pretty special and you’re mortified. whirl around to face katsuki and demand that he tell you the truth – does it bother you that you use that nickname? is it only okay when deku says it? what should you call him? and he just gets pink around the ears again and tells everyone to fuck off.

but later, when izuku is talking to the others and you and katsuki are both sitting peacefully, quietly off to the side–you because you’re just observing the group, him because he’s avoiding social interaction–he says, “you can call me kacchan,” you look at him with wide eyes and he smiles a little, “it’s alright, i don’t mind. kinda nice.”

[tteokdoroki]

🛞 GOOD LUCK STRANGER  ✩  katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 trapped in a foreign country for new years, katsuki tries his luck with a stranger and trusts her with his new years kiss - courtesy of finally taking his mother's advice. (1.5K)

🏁 safety car ! ⋆  safe for work ⋆ fluff ⋆ eighteen plus only. pro hero au, flluff, canon compliant, strangers to lovers, bakugou fluent in english bc i said so, yew kay mention, reader has an ambigous job in retail, kissing strangers at midnight, happy new years eve !! pro hero bakugou. fem reader.

── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2026.

imagine bakugou sharing his new years kiss with a girl he might never see again...

he’s in london for the night, accompanying best jeanist for a mission abroad that ran longer than it should have. so he’s stuck on the phone, telling his friends and his ma that he won’t be able to make it back for the new year. “go have fun, explore the city,” mitsuki coos down the crackle of the international line. “i’m sure you’ll find some good luck to bring with you into the new year.” 

katsuki has never been one to follow his mother’s advice even on the best of days, but someone he finds comfort in her voice and gentle encouragement — just this once. he’s long since outgrown the need to ignore her now, sometimes she’s all he needs to take that extra step. that’s how he finds himself following the mismatched tiles of stone pavement through the winding streets of london.

his finger tips turn icy cold in a way that only icyhot would be able to manage and nose falls victim to the biting night breeze. katsuki walks and walks, to clear his head and soothe the voice in his mind until he’s in the middle of a tiny square. a little park somehow still open at this late hour.  a single bench illuminated by golden street light calls to him for respite and a bit of quiet. 

the sky is dark, cushioned by clouds as he stares up at it — missing the steady steps of someone approaching the bench. 

“i’m not too fond of the fireworks,” your voice pierces the cool night as you take residence on the other side of the bench — katsuki just barely sparring a glance all day. you look tired, like the world has pulled down all the best parts of you. your uniform looks itchy underneath the coat that you wear, somewhere in retail he thinks. wherever you work, it’s been open late. “the only thing i was looking forward to was a new years kiss.” 

still, katsuki says nothing. 

more so because he’s translating in his head - its been a while since he’s had to navigate entire conversations in english alone.

“a joke,” your lips spread into a bewitching grin. “i’m just here to watch the fireworks somewhere quiet.” 

for some reason, the pro hero feels drawn to how lost you are. like him, you’ve come out here to avoid the loneliness of New Year’s Eve and answer the questions you’re leaving behind in the year before. creating the goals you’ll hopefully take into the next.

“i can kiss you.” he suggests plainly. voice gruff from going unused. you catch a hint of his accent, he’s not from here. though he sounds familiar, like a celebrity from overseas.

you dismiss the thought, deciding you’ll bite anyways.

“a stranger?”

“dunno what kind of good luck could come of it.” bakugou parrots his mother because something in the moment feels right — like this could be the very thing he went searching for tonight.

“you’re right, i guess that’s what these things are for?” you laugh and scoot closer to him on the bench, the blonde’s knee now pressing warmly into the heat of your thigh. “a kiss for a stranger then?”

“a kiss for a stranger.” 

he rises first from the bench and you follow suit.

the two of you stand opposite one another on the wet park path, under the yellow glow of a street lamp that flickers intermittently. as you exhale, strings of your breath curl into the night air like smoke, a sign of the cold that ticks on with the time. katsuki keeps his hands in his pockets, deep into the winter coat that he hates, even when you step closer.

midnight nears, a minute to go and people start to dance down the once vacant streets, children bundled up in scarves and bobble hats with their parents not too far behind as they chase a better view for the fireworks about to go off. bakugou’s gaze wanders after them but you don’t let him get too far. 

with cold hands that make him flinch, you cup his cheeks and bring his gaze back to you whilst a compensatory heat quickly rises to the surface in the form of a blush. “not long to go now, stranger…”

“mhm…” katsuki makes a non-committal noise but he doesn’t seem able to breathe. caught up in the glitter that lights your eyes and the way you seem to lean up on your tippy toes because he’s too tall for your lips to reach. you’re so pretty, yet he knows nothing about you. not your name or your story. he finds himself sick with intrigue. so, instinctively, his head dips down and his mouth hovers merely inches away from yours as the countdown begins. “don’t back out now.” 

five. four.

your fingers trail down to the lapels of his jacket, fiddling with it as if you’ve put something there. “i could say the same for you.” 

three. two. 

“you’re a snarky one, ain’t ya.” the blonde nudges your nose with his, gauging the level of intimacy to put into this simple kiss. when you lean into him, a strangled sort of sigh builds up in his throat — like he wants this. needs this. his large palms roll downward to secure you to him by the waist.

tugging him down by his coat you say. “that’s what the guys love about me.” 

one. 

fireworks erupt in two places as the clock strikes twelve. amongst the clouds in the sky and between two complete and utter strangers who just so happen to be wandering the same streets of london that night. katsuki presses his mouth to yours first, soft as they meet one another perfectly. yet, it’s you who deepens the kiss, prying his lips apart with your curious tongue and licking over the slight chap to them. you tilt your head and he follows your direction, squeezing your hips to stop you from escaping the kiss he doesn’t want to end. 

tongues meet one another for the first time, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. it feels right. has bakugou’s heart racing like it wasn’t blown to pieces nearly a decade before. he wonders if you can feel the erratic tune of his pulse, the sweat that gathers in his hands as he touches you like you’ll break. if you do notice, you like it or you feel exactly the same — your fingers tugging the sandy roots to his hair whilst you mewl softly into his mouth without shame.

this kiss tastes like ash and clotted cream fudge, the kind that tourists in london will buy as a gift for those back home or as a sweet treat. it’s addictive and you know that you’ll miss it, when it’s time to pull apart and time to go home. your lungs flare like the dazzling fireworks bursting around you, and your heart beats for him in this singular moment. the way he gasps into you, pours this strange.. comforting want into you. you never want this to end even as air becomes scarce and you feel a bit light headed.

when you break away, katsuki still has his eyes closed and a minute or two has surely passed. you stay there, mere inches from his face and lips — the ghost of a smile tattooed against yours. “happy new years, stranger,” you murmur like you’ve lost your voice to kissing him and stand on your tip toes to press one last smooch against his cherry-swollen lips.

“happy new year to you too, stranger,” he responds, giddy. maybe this was the good luck his mother has been talking about. katsuki smiles as he gathers his bearings, baby blonde eyelashes fluttering whilst he slowly starts to open his eyes. “hey, let me get your—” 

name.

then he realises, you’re gone. didn’t  even say goodbye, didn’t even hear the click of your heels as you left. you’d probably escaped under the guise of the fireworks. 

just when all hope is lost and bakugou feels like a fucking loser for opening himself up to someone he doesn’t know — a little note on a napkin falls from the inside of his jacket where it had been tucked. 

‘leaving you this in case i don’t have the courage to talk to someone as pretty as you. here’s my number: xx xxxxxx xx !! call me or text me, if you get the chance stranger! <3’

you’ve signed your name, must have written it while standing beside him in silence — before you decided to be brave and kiss him. katsuki whips his phone out faster than he can say his entire hero name and dials your number like it’s a life line.

“fancy some more good luck this year, stranger?” bakugou says eagerly before you even have time to speak, picking up after the first ring. “with me?”

and by the sound of your sweet laughter on the other end, ad-libbed by the booming thunder of fireworks — it seems like you’re down for the 2026 ride with him after all. 

end.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[gaiapapoila]

Sometimes it hurts.

[bfbkg]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI (爆豪勝己)

first posted: 1 may 2020

LONG FICS <1k

PLAYTHING (5.5K)

bakugou katsuki joined this new agency to train and gain experience to be the best. you just want him under your spell. he is so gorgeous after all.

baby, baby (2.5k)

military general bkg x head nurse yn

COMING TOGETHER (2.9K)

bakugou hears you having fun behind close doors. he wants to look but not touch.

AKIN TO HEARTBREAK (3.2K)

how can you say you don’t need him when he so wretchedly needs you?

JUST QUIT

bakugou wants to look after you.

THE STAGES OF ME AND YOU

you’ve still got a crush on your boyfriend

STUCK!

bakugou is stuck under the sink.

ALL THE OTHER WAYS

bakugou is always obsessed with you after your first night routine or bakugou realises his purpose on earth was never to become a hero but to simply love you.

PATCHING YOU UP

he loves when you patch him up. he also wants to be yours.

would rather not live at all than to live this life without you (?)

waking up stressed means your boyfriend can help in more ways than one

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED (3.4k)

your pro hero father hates your pro hero boyfriend. what are the odds.

SAGE GREEN (THE GREAT UNDOING OF MY HEART) (5k)

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PERMANENT FIX (3.9k)

after being hit with a sex pollen quirk, the only person bakugou has in mind to ask for help is his frenemy with benefits coworker.

MORNING AFTER (3.1k)

maybe you shouldn’t have slept with the guy you’re wildly crushing on because now you’re stuck looking for your bra on your hands and knees whilst he’s asleep.

LILAC AND SWEETHEARTS (3.7K)

posing as a stripper at your boyfriend’s strip club definitely makes his birthday a happy one

THE THIN LINE BETWEEN PUNISHMENT AND REWARD (2.3K)

along with feeling lonely, bored and unappreciated, bakugou is constantly suffering with blue balls.

PRETTY BLONDE (2.2k)

how will you ever get what you want if you don’t go and get it yourself?

FOMO (3.4k)

bakugou’s got a serious case of fomo. or there was no way he was about to miss out on you prancing around in a tiny bikini with your ass hanging out.

politely, baby (3.6k)

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bodyguard

you’ve got a new bodyguard

student president!reader x delinquent!bkg

headcanons n mini fics

love on the beach (2.9k)

going on holiday with your husband of one year makes you both realise how much more of each other there is to love

crazy (1.5k)

you don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend.

one of the first times… (smut, 1.5k)

smartass (2.2k)

katsuki just wants to show you off around his friends. you’re not too keen on the idea.

wet dreams (smut, 3.6k)

katsuki’s never done this before.

on the windowsill (smut)

smoking w katsuki

in a world of evil, i have you (8k, smut)

mafia au! seeing your boyfriend kill a man isn’t the best start to any relationship.

TOP LEFT !! (6k, smut) (headcanons)

street racer au! when sneaking to one of katsuki’s street races, you have no choice but to ride in the car with him. hopefully, you get to ride him later.

bakugou katsuki’s jealous (1.7k)

he thinks he’s never made you laugh before.

couple bonding activity (2.6k, smut)

katsuki has a love hate relationship with you going to the gym with him

it’s just us (2.9k, smut!!)

in the holiday home you’re sharing with your friends, the downstairs gym has mirrors… everywhere.

look what you do to me (1.2k, smut!!)

bakugou katsuki is so shameless. give him some attention.

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you’ve fallen for your friend, bakugou katsuki, who you happen to fuck at least twice a week.

blown out (5.5k, smut !!)

what’s better than a spliff in a hot tub with your girlfriend?

platform sandals (1.7k)

you need a little help on your first date with katsuki

DUMB BITCH !! (1.2k)

why the fuck is your friend flirting with your boyfriend?

pretty (5.1k, smut!!)

your boyfriend katsuki loves the way you look when you get your hair and nails done.

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outside the window (2.4k, smut !!)

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polaroid pics (2.3k)

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vlogger!yn x ph!bkg hcs

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almond crossiants (1k)

katsuki asks for you to move in with him

feel it (2.4k, smut!!)

there’s two things you wanna do. fuck with your boyfriend high and outdoors.

Keep reading

[tatiannamaslany-blog]

[do-you-have-a-flag]

tomorrow

[blueskittlesart]

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP. CAT PAW HEEL

[reynemi]

[overpassart]

the final boss 💥

[dynameow]

THE PRINCIPLE OF THINGS ──── FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI

synopsis ✿ it’s been a rough night. your heart is still recovering from being broken, you need an uber home, your phone is dead, and everyone else has already left the class 1-a yearly reunion. well—everyone except bakugou. he gives you not just a ride home, but a solution to your lonely predicament

✿ BEFORE YOU READ ── female reader ; pro hero bakugou + pro hero reader ; reader was in class 1-a ; reader has a quirk (she's stretchy - think like elastigirl from the incredibles LOL) ; reader gets her heart broken by an unnamed random guy + has insecurities ; bakugou is silently pining (and quite good at hiding it tbh) ; friends (sort of) to lovers ; cunnilingus ; p in v ; creampie ; morning after ; confessions (sort of. its bakugou ok) ; getting together ; the class 1-a girls are gossips

꒰ word count ꒱ 12.0k words — give it a chance plssss

꒰ commentary ꒱ hi my name is riv and i am going thru mental breakdown after mental breakdown about my life but it wont stop me from writing about letting bkg hit

Class 1-A is trauma-bonded for life—it’s this invisible, untraceable, yet undeniable thing.

Sure, years pass. Adulthood kicks in. Lives become busier, more hectic, more demanding. Time is a funny thing—nine years ago, you were sitting in a classroom with these people, learning how to be a hero. Nine years later, you’re sitting in a rented-out bar, sharing a drink with them as they trade hero stories like it’s part of the average day.

Then again, you suppose it is the average day for pros. Wake up, go to work, save people, crack cases, go on patrol, and go to sleep. Repeat.

Adulthood is a bummer. Everything is so different now—you don’t gossip with Toru every day or giggle with Mina in passing periods. You don’t tease Ochako about her rapidly growing crush or share headphones with Kyoka during lunch. You don’t study with Yaomomo or sit in Tsu’s room and have deep discussions about philosophy. Class 1B isn’t there to rival you and your peers. Mister Aizawa isn’t popping around at the oddest moments in that ridiculous sleeping bag.

And then adulthood is nice. Some things never change—Bakugou is yelling about something in the distance like a maniac, while Midoriya rubs his neck sheepishly. Todoroki says something with that deadpan face of his, and that only seems to set the blonde off even more. You can’t help but huff, rolling your eyes fondly.

Class 1-A is trauma-bonded, and fuck if it’s not one hell of a bond—adulthood claiming your lives and free time or not. You’ll find the time to get together like this at least once a year—with someone as good at planning as Yaomomo and someone as persistent and vocal as Iida, everyone makes it to the Class 1-A routine meet-up.

If only you weren’t so fucking devastated at this meet-up, you could have appreciated it properly. But you are, and there’s nothing to do about it now but suck it up—and hey, there’s always next year, right?

That’s what you tell yourself as you robotically hug each girl goodbye. That’s what you tell yourself as you watch your former classmates—turned occasional colleagues—file out of the bar and head off in different directions, dispersing along all the paths life has dragged them down separately.

You stand there for a good second after everyone leaves—you’re the only one left, you’re sure. Alone. As always, you think with a self-deprecating scoff, you’re alone. Even when you’re surrounded by a room full of people, you’re alone.

You should just get an Uber home. It’s late, you have morning patrol, and it’s getting really fucking cold, the night breeze biting at your skin. But you stand there anyway, stiff and unresponsive, because you are, despite trying to shove it all aside for one night, devastated. And so fucking alone.

“The hell are you still standing out here for?” comes a gruff voice from behind you.

You jolt—and that’s how out of it you are, because who the hell sneaks up on you so easily? You’ve honed your fighting abilities and reflexes better than that. You’ve made sure your skills are good enough that you aren’t crept on so easily. So why didn’t you hear Bakugou coming up behind you? You have no clue.

“Bakugou,” you mumble, “why are you still here?”

“Hah?” He looks at you, mildly irritated. “I asked you first, Stretchy. Answer me before you ask me stupid questions.”

Stretchy. Even after all these years, Bakugou calls everyone by those obnoxious nicknames he comes up with instead of their actual names. You’ve noticed a long time ago that he always goes one of two routes when picking his stupid little names: by physical appearance or by quirk. It just so happens he chose to use the latter for you—ever since the day your body stretches out like elastic in front of him for the first time, you’ve been Stretchy. Have been nothing else. Will probably never be anything else. 

If you weren’t so emotionally downcast, you might’ve rolled your eyes and snapped back: my name is not Stretchy! But you don’t have it in you. So you just mutter, “I’m getting an Uber.”

“So get it, then,” he grumbles. “The hell are you waiting for? It’s the middle of the fucking night.”

You don’t point out that it’s…kind of sweet, in a blunt, Bakugou sort of way, that he’s concerned about your safety. Or that it’s pointless to be, considering you’re a pro hero too—one who patrols in the middle of the night on a regular basis. But anyone who’s shared years with him, classroom and battlefield alike, knows better than to argue with him over meaningless things if they value their eardrums.

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to call the damn Uber. You should’ve just driven yourself, but you’d been too exhausted—and, frankly, too sad—to deal with the thirty-minute drive. It’s not like you can’t afford to waste the money, anyway.

You tap your screen once. Then twice. Nothing.

Huh.

You press and hold the power button. Still nothing. You’ve got to be fucking kidding, you think.

As if your week couldn’t have gotten any worse.

First, you get ghosted by your almost-but-not-quite boyfriend, who was never really your boyfriend, but that’s not the important part. The important part is that he almost, just almost, was by anyone’s standards. Then, after he gets you fucking attached, you find out he ghosted you for some other girl with way nicer fucking tits and longer legs than yours (no, you did not stalk that girl’s socials, thank you very much. You just happened to stumble onto it and accidentally…tapped the tagged user. That’s all). Then, you miss out on enjoying the one night you look forward to every year because you can’t pull yourself out of this stupid, heavy funk. And now, finally, your phone is dead. Completely dead. No Uber, no ride home, no immediate access to the ice cream in your freezer to have a good, necessary cry.

And Kaminari has already left, so he can’t charge it with his quirk. Great. Fantastic, even.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Bakugou’s voice cuts through your spiral as he glares at you. “Were you here to be social or be on your damn phone all night? How’s that thing already dead, huh?”

“I wasn’t on my phone,” you shoot back, a little more petulant than intended. “I just…forgot to charge it before I got here.”

He stares at you with what can only be pure, hard judgment. “You people are so poorly prepared for everything, it never fails to piss me off.”

Well. If your week couldn’t get any worse, you now have to have Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, call you an Uber and get you home, which means you have to tell him your address. Which means you will, inevitably, lie awake all night wondering if he’s going to look up your apartment and judge it. Not that you think your place is bad, or that Bakugou is even the type to care about that kind of thing—but your brain is not exactly known for being reasonable once it gets going.

At the same time that you say, “I’ll pay you back if you call me an Uber,” he exhales sharply and snaps, “Well, fucking follow me, then.”

You pause.

“What?” you blink.

He’s already started walking off, and your question only seems to irritate him further. “Exactly what the fuck I said. Follow me.”

You do—only because you have to, if you want to ask him again to get you the damn Uber. “Bakugou, I’ll pay you before the Uber even gets here, okay? You don’t have to worry about your money—”

You hear the sharp beep of a car unlocking, and then a sleek, obnoxiously fancy Porsche lights up from the inside. Bakugou yanks the passenger door open and jerks his chin toward it, already glaring.

“Get in. And don’t talk like I can’t afford a fucking Uber—I’m not so desperate for money that I need you coughing it up that fast, you damn loser.”

“You…what?” You just blink at him, stupidly.

Bakugou looks like he’s just about one minor inconvenience away from exploding. He tips his head back with a long, aggravated groan. “God damn it, Stretchy—I’ve got shit to do in the morning, okay? Get. In. Did you hear me that time? For fuck’s sake, your hearing can’t be that bad.”

“…Why?” you ask, somehow even more stupidly.

You can’t help it—this doesn’t feel like a Bakugou thing to do. And it definitely doesn’t feel like a Bakugou thing to be doing for you of all people.

“Can you just fucking get in the car so I can drive you home and call it a night?” he grits out.

His eye is twitching now, just slightly, and you decide you would actually like to make it home tonight, so you decide not to push your luck. You walk over and get into the car without another word. It’s best not to piss him off to the point where he changes his mind on helping you altogether. That would be rough.

The door slams shut behind you almost immediately after you’re in, and Bakugou is in the driver’s seat just as fast. “Put your seatbelt on,” he mutters, reaching for his own.

He says this as you’re in the process of reaching for it, and you sometimes forget just how unnecessarily annoying Bakugou can be. And bossy. Very, very bossy.

“I am,” you mutter back, rolling your eyes.

”Here,” he only grunts in response, handing you a charger, and you wordlessly take it, plugging in your phone.

”Thanks,” you say quietly. “Good thing you were still there, huh?” You give him a sheepish look.

His only form of reply comes as a flat look. You wither under it.

”What were you still doing there while everyone was gone anyway?” You mumble.

”Taking a phone call,” he mutters. And then, because he’s apparently still as petty as he used to be back in the day, he glances at yours and adds, “Because I keep mine charged.”

You all but pout at his pointed statement, huffing as you start to defend yourself. “Okay, well, I never make this mistake usually. I just—”

You cut yourself off when your phone lights up from charging and turning on, catching your attention at the same time it does Bakugou’s. Well—that was pretty fast, at least. You almost wonder if the five percent he’s managed to get you to will be enough to last you on an Uber ride home. That would be better than a long thirty minutes sitting next to the agitated lump of blonde hair next to you, right?

You can’t entertain the idea for even a second longer than you had it, though. Because Bakugou is already muttering under his breath, “Finally,” before looking at you and saying, “now send me your address so I can type it in.”

”You know, if you were this pressed for time I could’ve just typed the address into your GPS myself,” you say dryly.

”Great idea,” he says just as dryly, “next time, maybe I’ll try that when you talk less. Now gimme the address, idiot.”

Well. You give up on your idea of the Uber and you do. And you watch as he slots his phone into the holder on the dash, your message lighting up the screen—Stretchy. That’s your contact name.

Of course it is. (But then again, it’s a miracle Bakugou even saved your contact at all—you’d always assumed he had the class group chat muted.) You fight the urge to roll your eyes again and just slump back into your seat instead, resigning yourself to your fate for the night as he taps on your message and pulls up your address in his GPS.

The engine hums to life, low and smooth, and the car pulls out onto the road. You sink a little deeper into your seat, letting your head fall back for a second before, against your better judgment, your eyes drift over.

Bakugou drives like he does everything else: so absurdly impressively, it’s actually ridiculous. It’s just driving, and yet he makes it look like it’s something only he can do so well—one hand on the wheel while the other rests on the gear shift, relaxed. His posture is easy, shoulders set, gaze sharp on the road ahead. And it’s just one of those attractive things men do for no reason.

It’s…annoying. How natural he looks. How good he looks.

The streetlights flicker over him in passing streaks, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brows, the way his eyes narrow just a bit when he switches lanes. Bakugou looks so annoyingly good, and you’re helpless to notice it.

Because that’s just the thing—you’ve always noticed it.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought he was attractive back in high school. You definitely did. It was hard not to. He was bulky and muscular and tall with a good face—he even wore baggy pants and a tight-fitted shirt for his hero costume. He did all the right things (without meaning to, of course) to be attractive to the average girl.

But his attitude? Well…that’s another matter.

That had killed the attraction before it could ever be anything more than a passing thought. A surface-level thing. Something you’d notice and immediately shove aside because Bakugou Katsuki was not someone you entertained a crush on unless you were actively trying to make your own life harder. And you definitely didn’t need that, so you never put much thought into it.

And yet, now, years later, watching him drive like this, you’re painfully aware that it’s…still there. That lingering attraction that you undeniably have for him. Persistently so.

You tear your gaze away before you can get caught staring. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s just Bakugou. You’ve known him for over a decade, and you’ve never been affected by him like this, and you won’t start now. Your broken heart and devastating loneliness are getting to you. That’s all.

The silence stretches—not uncomfortable, exactly, and you’re sure Bakugou would prefer it this way, if anything. But still, you feel like it’s too stiff for you to handle, so you do what you’re best at. Awkwardly making small talk to fill in the awkward silence, even if it’ll annoy him.

(If anything, you hope it will.)

You clear your throat. “So.”

He doesn’t look at you. “So?”

“…Busy lately?” you try, immediately regretting it. God, that was lame.

He huffs quietly through his nose. “Yeah. Work doesn’t exactly stop for heroes.”

“Right,” you nod, even though he isn’t looking. “Same.”

Another beat of silence. You glance at him again, just for a second, and immediately regret it when you notice the way his hand shifts slightly on the wheel, forearm flexing.

Holy fuck.

“Your new agency’s…uh. Doing well?” you ask, grasping at anything that sounds remotely normal. Remotely interesting. Bakugou would love talking about himself—right?

“Tch. Obviously,” he mutters. “We’re not half-assing shit over there.”

“Yeah, I figured,” you say quickly. “I’ve heard good things.”

He shoots you a brief sideways glance, like he hardly believes it. “From who?”

“People,” you shrug, already cringing. “Around.”

“Hn,” he grunts. He looks back at the road. “Well, they’re right. I’m gonna be the best agency soon, too—you’d do well to remember that.”

You press your lips together, trying not to smile. God, he’s insufferable. You hum, letting your head rest back. “Kaminari said you’ve been working yourself to death without some sidekicks.”

“Dunno why you’re listening to that idiot,” Bakugou scoffs. He looks a little sulky at the mention of having no sidekicks—like it’s a sore topic. (You’re not surprised in the slightest when Kaminari tells you that no sidekick stays for long after getting a taste of Bakugou’s abrasiveness.) “Dunce-face talks too much.”

“He said you don’t take breaks.”

“I don’t need breaks.”

You snort softly. “Yeah, okay.”

That earns you another glance, longer this time, but the sulkiness is gone, and there’s something almost amused sitting underneath it. Barely there, but it’s there. “Worry about yourself,” he says, turning back to the road. “You’re the one who looks like shit tonight.”

You blink, then scoff. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” he mutters.

Yeah. You do. You’re sure you looked miserable and stiff as a board all night. No way the girls didn’t notice, but they know you well enough to know you’ll come to them on your own time—and you will. When the time is right, you’re sure you’ll vent away about men and their shittiness and their lack of communication and commitment when you’re feeling up to it.

For now, though, you’ll just sit here and be driven home by Bakugou Katsuki, who seems to know something is up, yet does not comment on it as he does a surprisingly nice thing for you. And for some unknown reason, that makes something in your chest feel just a little less heavy.

The rest of the car ride goes rather smoothly, and you pull up to your apartment in what feels like a surprisingly fast amount of time. Time…doesn’t seem to drag on with Bakugou, even when it’s silent. Of course, he’d actually entertained your small talk when you tried here and there, but you find that there’s almost…comfort in Bakugou’s silence.

He parks in front of the building. And then, he surprises you as he says bluntly, “You've been actin’ weird all night. What’s with you?”

You stiffen, jaw tightening. “Nothing, I don’t know what you’re—”

“That’s bullshit. I’m not fucking stupid,” he cuts in, flat.

“Well, why’s it your business?” you snap, sharper than you mean to.

Bakugou shrugs, like it really doesn’t matter either way. “It’s not. But I drove thirty minutes in the opposite direction for your dumbass, so I’m curious why.”

You huff, looking away toward your apartment building, arms crossing tighter over yourself. “It’s nothing. Just…a shitty week.”

“Tch.” He leans back slightly, still watching you. “Shitty how?”

“Just stuff,” you mutter. “It’s not a big deal.”

He clicks his tongue, clearly not buying it. “Liar.”

You shoot him a look. “Excuse me?”

If there’s one thing that Bakugou is that people tend not to give him credit for, it’s that he’s perceptive. Observant. They make the mistake of thinking that he always rushes right in, charges head-on without an ounce of a plan or a single thought in his brain other than brute forcing his way out of everything. But that’s farther from the truth than anyone would assume. Bakugou is so smart, it just adds to the list of reasons why he’s infuriating.

He’s smart, and he notices things, and he always has a pretty fucking good idea of what he’s talking about.

So when he says, “You’ve been off all night. Quiet—and not your usual type of quiet,” you look at him funny. You never assumed he’d have a good idea of what he’s talking about when it pertains to you.

“Wow. Since when do you know me so well?”

“I know all of you freaks—have to if I’m gonna beat you all and be number one,” he shoots back immediately. Then, after a moment, “You still seein’ that guy Dunce-face was talking about?”

You still. Just for a second. How did…how did he know that’s what was wrong? (And why is Kaminari airing your business out like that? From now on, you’re going to stick to the girls, and that’s it—Kaminari has lost his gossip privileges.) And of course, Bakugou catches the way you stiffen almost immediately, so he catches on that he was right. “Hah. Knew it,” he mutters. “Sparky says the guy’s lame as shit.”

“It’s not—” you start, then exhale sharply. “It’s nothing.”

“That means you’re not seein’ him anymore, I take it,” he says. “So was he a jerk?”

You groan, dropping your head back against the seat. “Can you not?”

“No,” he says, without hesitation. “You’re sitting here acting like shit over some guy?”

“I’m not acting like shit,” you snap, even though you know you are. “And he’s not just some guy, either.”

“You are acting like shit,” he says flatly. “What, you love him or something?”

“No,” you sputter, “we didn’t even know each other like that for it to be love.”

“So then what’s the big deal?”

You look away again, jaw tight. “I don’t know! It’s like…it’s just…” You trail off and sigh. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou shrugs. “Probably.”

Your head snaps back toward him in disbelief. (At least now you know there is at least one thing he’s not good at—he can’t comfort people for shit.) “Wow. Thanks, asshole.”

“But you’re clearly stuck on it,” he continues, unfazed. “So it’s not stupid to you. Are you gonna be fine, or are you gonna go up there and spiral all night?”

“Still don’t see how it’s your business,” you grumble.

It’s only silent for a moment before Bakugou grabs his keys and turns the ignition off on his (very fancy) car. His door opens and closes, and before you can even get an idea of what’s happening, he pulls your door open and gestures for you to get out.

“Let’s go,” he says.

“W-what?” you stutter.

“I said, let’s go,” he rolls his eyes, “We’re goin’ up to your place, and you’re gonna give me a bottle of water and somethin’ to snack on. Least you can do for making me drive all this way.”

It’s his way of keeping you company for a bit longer. This much, you know.

Bakugou is a complicated guy. He’s mean and rude and crass and loads of other unpleasant things that people could use to describe him in order to convey that he’s…not easy to get along with. Not even a little. 

But he’s a good person at heart. It’s undeniable. People are always safe around Bakugou, even if it costs him his life (though really, it hardly ever does because he’s just that good), and even if it takes every ounce of his blood, sweat, and tears. He does it because it’s in his nature to do so—ingrained in him since the day his quirk was manifested. He’s the best at winning against bad things, and it helps people—imperfectly, sure, and not always in a very heartfelt manner, but as sincerely as it comes.

If he decides to come up and spend time with you for a bit to keep your mind off of your broken heart, it’s not because he pities you or feels this self-righteous sense of justice. He never does what he doesn’t want to do. So he wants to do this—and it’s because in his own, weirdly unexpected way, he cares. 

Perhaps it’s not entirely unexpected, though, you suppose—after all, Class 1-A is trauma-bonded for life. All of you. 

—

When you let him into your apartment, he takes a quick glance around. Lingers over the small trinkets and items you keep as decor, and then marches his way over to the kitchen as he mumbles, “What sorta snacks you got?”

You pull out one of the bags of red, hot, spicy chips from the convenience store that you keep stashed away—they can’t be good for you, but you figure you only live once—and hand them to him. He perks up minimally. 

Bakugou likes spicy things. It’s one of the first things you ever learned about him, actually about him as a person and not just him pertaining to the nature of the hero course, and for some reason, it’s a detail you seem to remember. 

He grabs the bag and slinks off to your couch while you grab your long-awaited ice cream and slump onto the opposite end of it right after, which isn’t too far, considering your couch is not that large. His feet are thrown over your coffee table, and you don’t care enough to bother with scolding him about how ill-mannered it is. 

“So,” he grunts, popping a chip into his mouth. “Why the pity party? He dump you or somethin’?”

“We weren’t together,” you mutter, digging your spoon roughly into your frozen treat. You’re long past the point of wondering if it’s a wise idea to tell Bakugou all your woes—he’s already here, so you figure, why the hell not? “I don’t think it qualifies as a dump.”

“Ah,” he huffs, chewing as he seems to get whatever clarity he was searching for. “So he ran off before things got official, and now you’re sulkin’.”

“I’m not sulking,” you click your teeth—all of which is said through a rather sulky tone, so he only snorts and raises an eyebrow at you. You just respond by glumly taking a spoonful of your ice cream as you add, “And it’s not even like I fell for him that hard, okay? It’s just…the principle of things—he shouldn’t have strung me along like that, and he could’ve just told me instead of disappointing me when things seemed to be going great. And, he definitely never implied that he was seeing other people, so it’s particularly low of him to do all that just so he could see another girl who is clearly so opposite of me, so I’m not even sure I was his type, rather than an easy situationship. Except I didn’t give him what he wanted easily, so I bet that’s why he lost interest so suddenly when he realized he wasn’t going to get what he—”

“Holy fuck,” Bakugou groans, “you sound like the damn nerd with all that mumbling. Okay, so some guy wanted to get in your pants, you didn’t let him, and he got bored. Big deal—just means you picked a fucking loser. So don’t do that next time.”

He says it like it’s so simple. It’s never that simple. Men are so naive. 

“Thanks for the stellar advice,” you say sarcastically, shooting him a flat look.

He only smirks, shrugging as he hums, “Yeah, don’t mention it. Don’t get used to it though—I’m not a fuckin’ therapist who solves your shit for you.”

“I’ll try not to depend on you too much,” you roll your eyes. You take another spoonful of your ice cream and sigh tiredly as you slump back against your cushions, and he sighs heavily and throws his head back exasperatedly. 

“Look, I know I’m not always the most…fuck, I don’t know the word—”

“Kind? Compassionate? Empathetic? Understanding—”

He shoots you a withering glare, and you huff as you trail off. “Anyway,” he fixes you with a pointed look, “even though I don’t get all bent up outta shape over nonsense like this, I’d get it if you were head over heels for this bastard. But it sounds like you didn’t even like the loser that much, so I’m failing to understand why it matters that bad.”

“Because,” you sigh in exasperation, “I just…I don’t know…I wanted someone to choose me and like what they see, okay? No one ever cares to even bother getting to know me, and I’m starting to wonder if there’s a reason why.”

“You just haven’t set your sights on the right guy yet,” he shrugs, “big fuckin’ deal. You’ll stop being dumb and choose a good one eventually—I’m willing to believe you’re capable of at least that much.”

“They really ought to give you your therapy license,” you say dryly, your face as unimpressed as your tone. “I bet people would pay good money to hear this.”

“I’ll consider it if my agency is a bust,” he snorts, shooting you a sly smirk as he leans back into the couch, one arm slung over the backrest. “Seriously though,” he adds after a second, side-eyeing you, “you’re makin’ this deeper than it is. Some shallow guy bein’ shallow is a stupid reason to get all in your head about shit or whatever.”

You press your lips together, staring down into your melting ice cream. “Well, that’s easy for you to say,” you mutter.

“Hah?” he grunts.

It is easy for someone like Bakugou. Someone who’s always good at everything and knows it. Has enough confidence for two people and then some. You’re certain that if Bakugou actually let women come near him long enough to entertain the idea of a romantic relationship with him, they’d be at his feet the way they are for Todoroki. Women have a thing for men they feel like they can change, can make soften up just for them. He’d be a magnet for the fix-it type of girls if he were actually interested someday, and it only frustrates you further when he talks like your problems are so simple. 

“This is how it’s always been for me—even back in high school, it was the same thing.”

Bakugou’s brows knit slightly. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

You stare intently into your pint of ice cream, stabbing the spoon in and out. “Like…with guys. It’s always been like this.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“I was there, in case you forgot,” he says, as if that alone settles the matter. “Don’t rewrite shit. You got asked out once by that extra.”

You frown. “That’s not—okay, first of all, that was just so he could try and show off his support gadgets to the agency I did my work study with. It doesn’t count. And second, that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” he shoots back.

You hesitate, then sigh, dragging your spoon through your ice cream again. “Like…I don’t know!” You gesture with your hand vaguely, “I’m never memorable…or the sort of person that stands out enough for people to be interested, you know? Even Mineta made a list once when we were in school—did you know that? Ranking all the girls. And I was last. Like, dead last for whose tits he’d want to see in order. And I know it’s stupid—it’s Mineta. But some part of me wondered why I was last, and…I just figured maybe when I got older, got more confident, and figured myself out, then it’d be different. But it’s not. It’s just the same thing again—and now I’m starting to wonder if there’s a reason why I was last on that list.”

Silence settles heavily between you. Bakugou stares at you incredulously, like you’ve just said something that’s genuinely incomprehensible. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” He scoffs.

You don’t meet his eyes as you bring your legs up to your chest and hug your arms tightly around your knees. “What?” You frown, sulky and self-conscious.

“You’re tellin’ me you’re still hung up a decade later over that small fry not wantin’ ta take a peek at your tits? Why the fuck would you even want him to see them?”

“I don’t want him to see them,” you defend, huffing. “But like…fuck, c’mon! If the perveiest, creepiest guy you know doesn’t get excited at the thought of seeing you naked, who in their right mind will?”

He looks at you in pure distaste. “I knew you were an idiot, but I thought you weren’t this much of a fucking idiot, Stretchy. Sitting here wanting people to see you naked. Fuckin’ absurd.”

“Don’t be purposely dense,” you snap. You don’t know why it matters so much that Bakugou understands where you’re coming from, but it does. It’s important that he understands. “I’m not…I just…all my life, I’ve never been the one people want. There’s always someone better. Hotter, or smarter, or funnier. Nobody wants me—not even for the wrong reasons. How can I expect anyone to want me for the right ones?”

Bakugou is silent. For a moment, you think he finally understands. Think he’ll finally have an odd moment where he’s compassionate and gentle and you see eye to eye and have a heart-to-heart about your lifelong insecurities and your raging sense of inferiority when it comes to anything outside of your job. (Because at least you can give yourself that much—you’re good at your job.)

But then he says, “You’re so dumb, it physically hurts to watch you sometimes.”

And you bury your face into your knees and just sigh. Why did you have any hope for anything else? Why did you expect Bakugou Katsuki of all people to have empathy for your lack of confidence? The walking epitome of confidence is sitting on your couch, and you had the gall to think he’d even try to understand you.

But then he takes you by surprise.

“You see the shit people say on the internet about you, don’t you? You got fans. They think you’re hot.”

You blink as you lift your head back up. “Well, sure, but—”

Bakugou cuts you off. He looks at you like you’re dumb as he speaks, and you almost wonder if you are with the way he holds so much conviction in that gaze of his. Like he believes wholeheartedly you’re a stupid fucking idiot with stupid fucking thoughts.

“But fucking what? That means you’re clearly not the ugliest girl on the planet. You’re sociable enough that you got plenty of friends, too, and you have talents. You’re half decent enough at hero stuff. You’re tellin’ me you think no one wants you? You have to be pretty air-headed to think no one’s gonna desire you or whatever.”

All things aside regarding the…well, delivery of his statement, it’s a pretty nice statement. Something about the idea that Bakugou believes someone could definitely want you makes your chest feel rather light. It’s kind and comforting in an odd way, despite the rough and borderline mean way of saying it. That’s Bakugou for you, though, you suppose. Always doing good in the least seemingly good way possible.

“You’re being weirdly thoughtful,” you fix him with a look as you stir your ice cream around. You fight back a small smile. 

He huffs, throwing another chip in his mouth before he mumbles, “I’m always thoughtful, you loser. I’m fuckin’ awesome, you’re just blind as shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smile.

“Just eat your ice cream before it turns into soup,” he grumbles.

You take his advice for once, scooping up another bite just to give your hands something to do. The cold bites at your tongue as you think on his words. You have to be pretty air-headed to think no one’s gonna desire you or whatever. Are you? Are you air-headed to think that? No one has given you a reason to think they do want you—but he seems to say it like he knows it’s true. Like he knows someone wants you exactly in the way you want to be wanted. It eats away at you in your head. Does he know who? Is it someone from your old class? A friend of his? Kirishima, or Sero, or hell…even Todoroki? (You rule out Kaminari rather quickly—you almost pity the guy for how long he’s pined after Jirou.)

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s already looking at you. You freeze for half a second, catching him eyeing you down, and he doesn’t even bother pretending otherwise. Just watches you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure something out, trying to search for something that he can only find in you.

“What?” you mutter, a little defensive.

“Tch.” He looks away first, shoving another chip into his mouth. “Nothin’.”

You don’t buy that for a second. “You’re staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally were.”

“Eat your damn ice cream,” he snaps back, but there’s no real heat in it.

“Why’re you being all weird all of a sudden?” you mutter.

He scoffs. “You’re the one who’s weird. Don’t start projecting.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You roll your eyes as you go back and forth with him, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips again, uninvited and almost second nature somehow. It lingers longer than you expect. Who knew it could be so easy to smile in Bakugou’s company? You wonder if the you from high school would be shocked to see this now—hell, you think the you of last week would be shocked to see this, too. 

You look back at him, and he’s still staring—softer this time, less like he’s searching for whatever it is he was searching for a moment ago, and more like he’s staring just to stare.

“What?” you ask again, furrowing your brows.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you—looks at you hard and good and…and so full of certainty and conviction like earlier. Certainty for what, you wonder. You have no idea, but it almost feels like something is shifting in your relationship with Bakugou—or perhaps, something that was always there that you never knew of is revealing itself. It makes your stomach twist.

What relationship do you even have with him? Outside of being semi-friendly? You shared a class with him for three years and fought through a dark, heavy disaster side by side. It’s unfair to say you don’t know him that well—he was your friend. That much, you think, is fair to say. Perhaps not your closest friend, nor a lifelong one. But a friend all the same. 

So what is it? Why does it feel like there’s something that’s making itself noticeable now, all these years later? What is it exactly? Your head spins as you try to figure it all out, all while he just keeps on fucking staring.

“Nothing,” he mutters finally, but it sounds distracted. It sounds like his mind is elsewhere, and his body is here. 

“You’re still staring,” you whisper.

His jaw tightens slightly. “Stop sayin’ that,” he mutters.

“Then stop staring.”

“I was making eye contact, you fucking idiot.”

“I think you were staring.”

“No, the fuck I wasn’t.”

“You’re looking right at me as you say that.”

“'Cause it’s called fucking eye contact—are you dumb or something?”

You stare at him. He stares right back. And then, because you’re you, you break it first—huffing out a quiet laugh and shaking your head. “I see. Are you just now realizing I’m super gorgeous or something?”

“Tch. Weren’t you just going on about how no one seems wowed by you?”

You glare at him. “Low blow. And I said that’s how it seems to be for some reason—I never said I agreed with it. Personally, I think I’m rather delightful, and people should notice it more.”

“Yeah, real charmer,” he mutters.

You bump your knee lightly against his without thinking. “Shut up.”

It’s small. A casual touch, if anything. You didn’t think much of it—in fact, it almost came to you naturally. But sitting on your couch and spilling your heart out and sharing snacks with Bakugou feels so oddly familiar, though, that perhaps your judgment is a little clouded. 

He stills at the small touch. Your smile fades a little when you realize it—when you realize he didn’t just brush it off like it’s casual. His gaze drops again, slower this time, to where your knee is pressed against his. And then back up. Did you cross a boundary? Did he find that weird? Is he uncomfortable? Was that a more intimate gesture than you thought it was? 

You’re sitting there spiralling in your head as you just watch him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward slightly—just enough that the space between you closes so that only a few bare inches remain. Your breath hitches.

“Bakugou—”

“You’ve always been pretty dumb,” he mutters, voice low.

You blink. “What?”

“Exactly what I said,” he closes his eyes and sighs, like he’s tired and conflicted and…and something else. Something else you just can’t decipher, no matter how much you try. “I don’t get how you don’t fucking see it.”

“What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer. But he does open his eyes—deep and sharp vermillion eyes that are looking at you, and he seems to have made a decision that he’s almost a little hesitant with. Like he’s reluctant to fully go through with it, but still. He’s determined. That much you can tell—you know what a determined Bakugou looks like, and this is it. This is it if you know it, and you know that you know it. 

And then he leans in.

He leans right in, pressing his lips to your and kisses you softly. It’s so soft—softer than any touch you’ve ever felt. So careful and considerate, as if you’re a fragile petal that’s on the verge of falling off the stamen, and he’s taking every ounce of willpower to keep you tethered to where you are. Keep you from falling away. Keep you there and whole and pieced together so that even the most delicate of touches doesn’t ruin you. 

You almost wonder if he thinks he would—ruin you, that is. You wonder if all that careful consideration is because Bakugou believes you’re a fragile petal that could blow away, and he’s nothing but a harsh, cold wind that would blow you off your balance and carry on like it’s just his nature to do so. 

And then he pulls back just as fast as it happened to look at you, brows furrowed slightly like he’s bracing for you to shove him off or yell at him.

Your brain is still catching up. He just kissed you. Bakugou Katsuki just kissed you. You stare at him, wide-eyed, and for once, he actually looks uncertain. Nervous, even—almost disappointed. And it does something weird to your chest.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done th—”

“You just kissed—” 

You both speak at the same time. You pause, he does too, and then his jaw tightens. “Yeah. I…that was stupid. Sorry—I…fuck, I don’t know what I was think—”

You don’t know why you do it, but you lean forward and kiss him again. It just happens before you can process it—some invisible, untraceable, yet undeniable force that makes you just do it.  

And instantly, without even questioning it, his hand comes up, quick and certain, as it grips lightly at your jaw to steady you so he can kiss you properly. 

It’s slower this time. More deliberate. Less like he’s being careful and more like he’s trying to savor it now that he knows that he can. His lips press into yours as if they fit like puzzle pieces, and his tongue slides past your parted mouth to press against your own. Your breath catches, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt without you meaning to.

It’s weird, but it’s not—kissing Bakugou. He’s the last person you ever expected to kiss tonight, maybe even ever, but fuck does it feel like it’s the rightest thing you’ll ever do. 

“How the fuck do you think no one wants you?” he grumbles between kisses, like he’s personally insulted by the idea. It’s starting to occur to you that perhaps he is just a little insulted by the idea. “You’re so…so fuckin’ dense.”

“No one has ever made it clear,” you snap, bringing your hands around his neck and tugging on his hair as he kisses you deeper.

He hisses, but it only eggs him on to kiss you harder, more fervently. “You want it clear? Then here the fuck you go.”

He kisses along your jaw. Down your neck. Across your collarbone. When your shirt slips off, you don’t even have the clarity to stop and think about what it is you’re doing—it just feels that natural and right to let him do it. He takes in the sight of your tits in your bra, grabbing a handful of them with large, warm hands as he scoffs.

“These the tits that small fry didn’t wanna see? I’m fuckin’ glad—I’d be pissed as hell if he got to see these.” 

He pulls off your bra. Rips it right off your back and makes you gasp as you feel the claps fly clean off somewhere in the distance. 

“Hey—”

“Oh, shut up,” he huffs, “it’s a fuckin’ bra. I’ll buy you some more if you’re that pressed over replacing one.”

Before you can even scold him for tearing your undergarments and being so nonchalant about it, his mouth latches onto a nipple, sucking and rolling his tongue over the nub as it hardens under his touch. You gasp, arching into his touch, whining when one of his hands moves to cup your other breast and use his fingers on the neglected nipple. 

“Oh my—fuck,” you breathe, your heart rate getting faster as your breaths come out more labored. 

Bakugou grins against your tit, still sucking and licking—and when you feel the faintest pressure of teeth around your nipple while his fingers pinch around the other, you let out a sound that you’d be mortified about if your mind wasn’t so stuck in the clouds, hazy and unclear.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts when he finally pulls away—right down your belly and right above the waistband that’s sitting against your skin before he looks up at you for permission. “This okay?” he grunts. 

You nod quickly as you breathe heavily. 

He gives you an unimpressed look as he raises a brow. “Use your words,” he says firmly, “I know you can—can’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine, “yes, this is okay. J-just…get on with it.”

That satisfies him enough, it seems, because he’s pulling all the cloth that separates your core from him down, revealing your dripping cunt as he lets you kick off the cloth that pools at your ankles. 

“Look at you,” he coos, grinning smugly at the sight of your arousal smeared along your folds and your skin. He leans closer to get a better look, and you whine in shame. “Fuck,” he grunts, parting your legs with strong hands along your inner thighs as you try to close them from embarrassment. “Quit that,” he hisses. For whatever reason, you obey. “Fuck, you are so wet.”

“Bakugou,” you whine again, horrified, “what is wrong with you?”

He gives you a deeply bothered look. “Katsuki,” he snaps.

“What?” You furrow your brows. Why is he introducing himself to you as if you’ve never met him before—does this man forget that he and you not only shared a class for three fucking years straight, but you fought a war side by side? Of course, you know his first name is Katsuki—

“For fuck’s sake, Stretchy,” he says in pure exasperation, “you’re so dense, you make rocks seem weightless. Say Katsuki, not Bakugou—s’weird to hear that during sex. That’s my fuckin’ mother’s name, too, y’know.”

“Thank you for that mental image,” you fix him with a glare, “and I’m not denser than a rock—”

He licks a stripe along your pussy to shut you up, and fuck does it work. Bakugou—or…well, Katsuki, you correct in your head—is so good at everything he does, it’s almost infuriating. But you aren’t a liar, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for him being so good at eating you out. It’s like his life depends on it, the way he laps away at your folds, pressing his tongue into your cunt and pulling back away to roll over your clit. It’s so…so fucking good.

It feels good. Feels right. Somehow, it feels like this is natural and like he’s supposed to be there between your thighs. You’d expected yourself to be a bit more self-conscious about him seeing you like this, doing things to you like this, for a bit longer. But you’re not.

Instead, you’re throwing your head back into the couch as you moan, “Katsuki—mmhhh.”

“Yeah?” he grins, so smug and handsome at the same time. Just unfair. “You like that, huh?”

“B-be quiet,” you huff, whimpering when a finger sinks past your folds and stretches you open, “you always talked too much.”

“And you always talked too little,” he counters, “tell me how good you feel and say my name like that again while you do it,” comes his blunt demand.

And he earns what he asks for, of course, because a second finger follows that first, and it makes you whine out his name in response like it’s an inevitable chain of events. He’s pumping his digits into your wet cunt and pressing into your sweet spot like it’s that simple. His mouth closes around your clit, and he sucks, his tongue working some sort of unearthly magic along the bundle of nerves as you practically sob in pleasure.

Good, good, good—everything that Katsuki does is so good. He’s so good at everything, it blows your mind. Literally. You can hardly think as he fucks his fingers into you and builds that familiar pressure up in your lower belly. They’re longer and thicker than your own—and all those years of explosives at his fingertips have really roughened up the skin. They’re calloused and scarred. And they feel amazing when they glide along your walls. The friction is so different when it’s his fingers and not yours—they hit angles and stretch places you never hoped to do so yourself.

Like he can read your mind, he asks, “Feels nice?” with a low voice.

You can barely think, let alone form a proper response. Everything feels too sharp, too overwhelming—your breath catching, your body reacting before your brain can keep up. You roll your hips into his fingers as they thrust into you, grinding down onto his mouth so his tongue can lap away at your clit.

“Yeah—” you manage, voice uneven, “so…so good, Katsuki—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs. Baby—he just called you baby. And it’s…sweet. He says it oddly sweet and oddly gentle as he kisses your clit and smiles into your thigh when the kisses trail along the insides of them. His fingers are still pressing into that soft, sensitive spot in the back of your walls, still applying pressure exactly where you see white every time, and all the while, he seems to be so unexpectedly happy to be doing it.

You stare down at him, watching him between your legs, and when vermillion eyes intensely stare right back, piercing and calculating and yet so…so soft, you can’t look anymore. Just close your eyes and let it happen as your body starts to creep towards that familiar sensation of euphoria.

“Katsuki,” you whine, voice cracking.

“Jus’ let it happen, sweetheart,” he hums, “gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” you whine some more, “yeah—fuck. M’gonna cum.”

“Then do it, baby.”

You do. Katsuki is there to work you through it. Your walls spasm as you fall—no, plummet—off the edge, and he doesn’t hold back for an instant. His fingers are fucking into your tightness, the squelching sound of them gliding against your wet folds invading your very good hearing. His tongue is rolling back and forth against your swollen clit—so unforgiving and ruthless in his pace.

You can feel your back arch off the cushions of your couch, your hips working on their own accord as they move and grind down into his touch. Katsuki devours it all—laps away at your juices and groans at the taste of you. Groans right into your pussy and leaves you shuddering at the vibrations his gruff voice leaves against where you’re most sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, “driving me crazy here, y’know—sucking my fingers right in, I don’t even have to do much myself.”

When you’re done chasing your high, chest heaving as you catch your breath and slump back against your couch, his mouth doesn’t stop. He just stays there, pressing his lips where he can along your thighs, kissing and sucking into your skin, leaving blossoming marks in his wake while you try to gather some coherence in your mind.

“Fuck,” you say breathlessly. “I…just…yeah. Fuck.”

He snorts. “You’re too easily impressed,” he mutters.

“Yeah, well,” you glare, not meeting his gaze, “it’s not like I’ve ever done…this—” you vaguely gesture at him between your legs, “—to have a proper assessment of your skills.”

He looks at you. Bewildered. “Wait—you’ve never been fucked?”

“I’m not a virgin!” you sputter quickly, “not…not that there’s no reason why I can’t be a virgin—but I’m not, okay? I’ve been fucked.”

“So what is it then?” he raises a brow.

“I’ve never had someone do…this,” you gesture again.

“Eat you out?”

“Why do you have to go and say it like that?” you whine, covering your face with your hands—you’re sure said face is bright red and flushed.

He’s always been so vulgar. Even when you were kids. At least then, he was just vulgar with his language and not the connotations, but right now, he’s being vulgar about everything. And it’s seriously fucking with you right now—in more ways than one, evidently.

Katsuki only snorts, looking at you in mild amusement. “If you can’t say it, you got no business doing it. And you gotta have better standards, too—the fuck do you mean you never been eaten out before?”

“Men are not so giving,” you glare at him, “they’re in it for themselves. You’d know that if you weren’t a man.”

“Well, I am a man,” he shoots back, “and as a man, I know I’m pretty fucking giving. Cause I got standards and shit for my performance, and you should fuck people who have standards. And while you’re at it, you should get some god damn standards yourself, too.”

“I think you should take off your clothes instead of sitting there and lecturing me,” you huff. 

To your mild surprise, he stands up and pulls you into his arms, lifting you up easily—seriously, what is he built from?—before mumbling, “Where the fuck is your room?”

You mumble out, “Hall to your left—s’the door on the right at the end.”

In what feels like record time, he’s there, tossing you onto the mattress softly enough that you don’t feel the recoil of impact harshly, but hard enough that you do a little bounce. He chuckles as you glare, easily lifting the black t-shirt he’s wearing over his head. It reveals his bare torso and…shit.

It’s not as though you’ve never seen Katsuki shirtless. Of course, you have. You’ve trained with him and battled alongside him, and more than once has he been shirtless, or even had his shirt burned clean off. It’s nothing new to you that he’s muscular and well-built and so fucking broad—but fuck. He’s really bulked up since you last saw him shirtless. The biceps you can see from his short-sleeved shirt were already proof of that, but seeing him now without it, seeing his pecs and the clear indents of every ab while the broadness of his body is on full display, is just something else, entirely. 

And you’re staring. Because how could you not? Of course, you’re staring. You’re only human, no matter how superhuman this society is—you can’t help it that you’re simply in awe as you look at him. 

And he seems to notice it instantly, because he gives you a teasing grin as he murmurs, “Likin’ what you’re looking at, huh? Makes sense.”

“Would you be quiet?” you huff. You sit up as he unbuckles his belt, watching as he strips himself of his pants and boxers in one go, easily revealing his erection as if there are no second thoughts. 

It must be nice being so easily sure of yourself, you think. Everything about Katsuki’s life seems like it must be so nice. Good quirk. Good intuition. Good looks and an equally good body. Good everything—he must never overthink things. He must never overthink if the person in front of him likes what he has to offer and if it’s good enough to like for longer than one short instance. Of course, it’s good—it’s him. 

It must be nice being Bakugou Katsuki, born to be so confident and so great at everything. 

At least that’s what you think until he mutters, “Quit starin’, you freak,” with a huff. His ears are pink at the tips, and he doesn’t meet your eyes, and…it’s weirdly adorable that he’s shy. 

You smile, endeared as you reach over, grabbing his hand, pulling him down to hover over you in bed, his arms caging you while his nose bumps against yours. You can see his eyes better from here. Closer than you’ve ever seen them. His lashes are darker than the rest of his hair—almost a light brown that flutter so beautifully when he blinks. 

You hum, kissing his mouth with a soft peck, there one second and gone the next. He frowns, almost pouts, at how quickly it’s over. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now, Blasty,” you murmur.

“I’m never shy, Stretchy,” he shoots back. 

Your hand moves between your bodies, hesitantly reaching for his hard, swollen length. There’s a blonde patch of hair between his thighs that is neatly trimmed, and he’s got a small birthmark at his hip bone. As for his cock—it’s…well, it’s big. Thicker than it is long, but no less impressive. You figured it would be. Of course, just like everything else he’s got, he’s blessed to be impressive. 

You wrap a hand around his cock, stroking slowly as he shudders and lets out a soft, breathy groan. Your hand barely wraps around the girth of it, fingers just shy of meeting, and you look down to watch your fist slide up and down the length of him. He’s slick with pre cum that dribbles from his tip, twitching a little when you squeeze at the base experimentally as you stroke him. 

“S’that even gonna fit?” you gape at the sheer size of him, and that’s all it takes for that minimal shred of shyness to leave him. He has the nerve to look at you smugly—so wholly amused. 

“Course it is,” he snorts, smirking slyly. “Got you all nice and prepped, didn’t I? B’sides—isn’t bein’ stretched out and all kinda your thing?”

You give him a dirty look. Your quirk doesn’t work that way, and he knows it, but you suppose it’s naive to expect anything less from Bakugou. Of course, he’d throw in a cheeky, asshole-kind of poke at your meta abilities when he sees fit. 

“Be quiet,” you warn.

“If that’s what you want,” he hums, “then you should fuckin’ do something about it.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, kissing him hard and rough, earning a deep, satisfied rumble from his chest as you do. His cock nudges against your inner thigh, grinding against you for a short moment before he stills, jaw gritting tightly as he forces himself to be patient and mutters, “You got a condom?”

“On the pill,” you peck the corner of his lips, “so just fuck me—fuck me, Katsuki.”

That’s all he needs to hear. His tip is nudging against your entrance, sliding along your folds, and gathering the slick that’s practically dripping so he can coat himself in your mess. It’s filthy, and it makes you shudder as you feel the hot, heavy weight of him simply brush against you. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “gotta feel you—m’gonna go insane.”

He’s pushing past your folds, sinking inch after agonizing inch so slowly, so carefully, you almost want to hiss that you won’t break. But something stops you—the way he stares between your bodies, that dazed look in his eyes with wide pupils as he watches himself sink into you is enough to force you into submission and be patient. 

For him—just for him, you’ll be patient. 

“Baby,” he drawls, his voice a low, rough purr, “baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight—god.”

“Fuck, Katsuki,” you whimper. He stretches you out good—fills you up and then some as he presses into all the right spots. “S’so deep—need more, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he presses a soft kiss between your brows before his hips are moving. 

It’s slow at first, like he’s testing the waters, and when your head throws back into your pillow as you whine in pleasure, it’s like every worry in his head about hurting you flies out the window. His hips snap faster into you, his thrusts go a little deeper, his movement a little more frenzied. By the time he sets a fluid pace, it’s quick and rough and so fucking good. 

“Wanted this for so long,” he grits his teeth, letting out a long moan as you clench around him. “Shit, wanted this for so fuckin’ long you wouldn’t believe—wanted you for so fuckin’ long.”

“More,” you whine, “p-please—give it to me, Kats.”

Oh. Oh, he likes the sound of that—there’s a deep, almost animalistic groan in the back of his throat that erupts before he goes impossibly faster, bullying his cock into your walls and slamming into that soft, sensitive spot he did so easily with his fingers, too. Something in his brain is almost rewired, you think, when he hears the nickname fall from your lips. 

Something that makes him bury his face into your neck and nip and bite at the skin hungrily. 

“Say that again,” he demands. “Say it.”

“Kats,” you sob, “mmhh—s’good, baby. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this, huh? Like you mean something?”

“No,” you shake your head, “no one.”

“Only me, huh?”

“Only you,” you whimper, nodding along as your hips roll as much as they can into his own, trying to match his movements so he can press even deeper into you. 

Katsuki does fuck you like you mean something. No one’s ever really done that. You’ve always had sex just for the sake of sex. It’s never been anything more outside of that—sure, you’ve had your eye on a guy, or two that you wished maybe would look at you as something more than a good fuck. But they don’t make a lasting impression to keep you wanting more. Keep you craving more. Keep you hoping that maybe, just maybe, there could be more. 

Somehow, Katsuki makes that possible. He grabs your hips softly, rubs his thumb back and forth like he’s worshipping the skin when he angles you down on his cock for deeper access to your cunt. He kisses your jaw and cheeks with soft, wet pecks instead of just shoving his tongue down your throat. He bites his lips and looks at you with soft, dazed eyes and not the usual dark, lust-filled ones you’re used to. 

You never really minded being used. Never minded being more than an easy fuck if it meant you could get something out of it, too. But he makes you feel wanted—and you like being wanted. You like being something worth coming and staying for. 

“Fuck, m’close, sweetheart,” he rasps, sweat collecting on his forehead as his pace gets sloppier. The thick head of his cock slams roughly against your walls, and a thumb finds your clit to bring you closer to your peak with harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You can feel it—can feel the slow build of pressure in your belly, that familiarly delicious ache between your thighs as the friction of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy accumulates in every nerve. You’re close too, and Katsuki can tell—it’s so fucking easy for him to read your body. Like he was made to understand it. 

“Close too, huh?” he pants, “you almost there?”

“Yes,” you wail, “yes—fuck, yes! Wanna cum.”

“Then do it,” he hums, “cum with me, baby.”

He rolls his hips into you once—then twice, and you feel it snap. That coil in your belly that was tight and waiting to burst. It makes your mind go blank and your lips part, and a cry of his name rings in your own ears loudly. You can feel the way you contract around him, spasming and squeezing and pulling him in as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave.

It makes his cock twitch before he tenses and stills—his own orgasm hits him just as hard. Hot, white ropes of his release fill you up, the messy, sloppy pace of his thrusts fucking his load into you as he works you both through your highs.

It’s good—not just because it’s pleasurable, but because you feel important. You feel like only you could give him this, and only you could be the one he wants it from. He leans down and kisses you, slow and messy, drinking in your moans as he pours his own into your mouth. He says your name so pretty when he’s like this—so breathless and soft, you feel like your ears are ringing just listening to the sound of him. 

“You’re so good, baby,” he mumbles, “so good for me.”

“K-kats,” you whimper—it’s all you can even say. 

“I know,” he moans, “I know, sweetheart.”

And then it’s over. You finish, and so does he, and then it’s just the two of you tangled like that while you both pant and catch your breath. Sweaty skin on sweaty skin, lingering touch on lingering touch. Your fingers weave through his blonde locks, tracing along his scalp and fiddling with the small baby hairs at the nape of his neck. His fingers are wrapped around your hips, digging softly into the plush skin and making home in the warmth of it. 

“People want you, dumbass,” he mutters, leaning and kissing your cheek. “You’re just an idiot who doesn’t know how to look.”

“Be in my line of sight next time, and maybe I will,” you mumble. 

He laughs as he slumps down next to you, pulling your body into his as he wraps you up with his body and the sheets on your bed—it’s the softest sound you’ve ever heard from him, and fuck, do you want to hear it more. 

You wonder, as sleep creeps up on you, if this will all be an odd, weird, crazy dream when you wake up.

—

When you wake up, it is not an odd, weird, crazy dream.

Well, it’s definitely odd and weird and crazy. But it’s not a dream, that’s for sure. A sleeping, clearly bare Katsuki is in your bed, right beside you, and you’re in his arms. He’s holding you close and tight, and there would be no chance of escape if you wanted to leave his embrace (which you don’t really think that you do).

One minute turns into two. Two turns into three. And eventually, after a few agonizing minutes of trying to slowly inch away just enough to get a closer look at his sleeping face, Katsuki says without opening his eyes, “Quit squirming.”

You still. And then, you huff, squirming around just to annoy him. 

“Oi!” he glares, opening two sharp, yet sleep-hazed red eyes. “I just said stop.”

“Well, I don’t answer to you,” you scowl. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you decided to stare at me like a creep.”

“I was not staring,” you say, giving him a scandalized look.

He only grins, giving you a sly look as he yawns and mumbles, “Yeah. Whatever you say, dumbass.” Then he pulls you closer, bringing your cheek to lie on his chest while his chin props itself over the crown of your head. “You okay? From last night, I mean?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “M’fine.”

“Not hurt? Wasn’t too rough?”

“Nope,” you answer easily. 

You realize this position might have less to do with the fact that he wants to hold you rather sweetly, and more to do with the fact that he might not really want you to look at his face when he asks his next question. 

“You uh…you regret it? Or some shit?”

You pause, taking in the odd, rare moment of…vulnerability in his voice. Like he’s scared to hear your answer but needs to know desperately. You find yourself answering rather honestly when you say, “No. I don’t. Last night was really nice—I liked it.”

“Yeah?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Great. Go out with me, then.”

You do a double-take as you pull away and look at him in equal parts disbelief and equal parts irritation. He has the nerve to look rather expectant. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” he huffs. “Go out with me—exactly what I said.”

“You can’t just throw that out there randomly!”

“Randomly?” It’s his turn to be shocked and irritated. “The fuck do you mean? I was balls deep in you last night, and this is random?”

“Yeah b-but…” You sputter, smacking his chest. “First of all, don't say it like that! And second, I had no idea until last night that you even thought I was attractive, let alone likable. Now you want to date me out of the blue?”

“I don’t ask shit for no reason out of the blue,” he grumbles, “of course I think you’re attractive and likable if I’m asking you out. You think I’d waste my time with just anyone?”

“Usually,” you give him a flat look, “when you ask someone out, some sort of confession comes first. You know? Like, hey—I think you’re pretty cool. Or you’re really beautiful. Or even, hey, I think we get along nicely, don’t you? Do you wanna go out sometime?”

Katsuki closes his eyes and sighs exasperatedly. “Hey, loser,” he smiles tightly. It’s rather petty, honestly. “I think you’re cool and beautiful—thought it since we were fuckin’ brats in school. We get along nicely for the most part, too, when you’re not a pain in the ass. Let’s go out.” 

“That was a demand, not a question.”

“You are so fuckin’ difficult for no reason,” he groans, digging the palm of his hand into his eyes tiredly. “Holy fuck—you’d say no, or somethin’? That why you need it to be a question?”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t…but it’s the principle of things—”

“Fuck your principles,” he mutters, pulling you close and planting his lips onto yours. You melt rather instantly, kissing him right back without hesitation. He grins against your mouth and pulls away, leaving you breathless. “The only damn principle you need to know is that you and I are good for each other. And that means we should go out.”

Class 1-A is trauma-bonded for life—it’s this invisible, untraceable, yet undeniable thing. You think it’s a good thing that you are, because it leads you straight to Bakugou Katsuki. 

—

One new message from: ♡ PLUS ULTRA GIRLIES ♡

Mina: sooo can we talk about last night? SOMEONE was def giving us the cold shoulder

Toru: ^^

Kyoka: ^^

Momo: Come on, guys. I’m certain there’s a reasonable explanation. We should be ready to listen whenever she’s ready

Ochaco: absolutely! 

Tsu: but we do want to hear the reason asap

Mina: yeah it better be good bc that was just mean

Toru: ^^

Kyoka: ^^

You: i promise i’ll tell u everything soon ok? but guys. You: holy fuck. guys… You: i slept with bakugou last night

Mina: WHAT?

Toru: WHAT?

Tsu: WHAT?

Kyoka: WHAT?

Momo: WHAT?

Ochako: WHAT?

Mina: I KNEW HE HAD THE HOTS FOR YOU I KNEW IT Mina: THIS NEEDS TO BE A GROUP CALL RIGHT NOW

You: I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW HE’S LITERALLY IN FRONT OF ME MAKING BREAKFAST IN MY KITCHEN

Ochako: aw wait that is sooo sweet of him. he’s a great cook too

Toru: proof or it didn’t happen :P 

You: [ one attachment ]

Kyoka: HOLY SHIT THAT’S DEFINITELY HIS BACK

Momo: Well…As long as you’re happy!

Mina: LMAOOOOO STOP YAOMOMO

Ochaco: bakugou can be nice when he wants to be!! don’t be so hard on him

Tsu: when has he ever wanted to though…?

Toru: never lol let’s be real

You: he has a soft side OKAY? ochako is right u guys are being way too hard on him

Mina: oh god it begins

Toru: she’s already making excuses for him

Kyoka: the sex was that good huh??

Momo: Make sure you pee so you don’t get a uti ok?

yeah i wrote this in one day. this asshole has taken over my life yet again 6 years later i feel like history always repeats itself

[peaceandlovetechnology]

Every single day this month has been like Okay sure. Okay sure what the hell. Okay sure. I guess

[bfbkg]

GREYSCALE MASTERLIST

bakugou just wants you to let him into your world.

tags: situationship au, pro hero!bakugou katsuki, phd student!reader, class differences, yearning bkg, emotionally constipated reader, met on a dating app, suggestive, smut everything is in a rough chronological order questions are answered on the greyscale au tag

GREYSCALE (2k)

VALENTINES DAY (<1k)

BURNOUT (1.9k)

360 (2.6k)

LUNCH BREAK (3.7k)

SNOOPING

DORMANT, NOT DEAD (5.9k)

others:

HEADCANONS

LUXURY HAMPER

DATE NOT DATE

DEADLINES

[bfbkg]

DORMANT, NOT DEAD (5.9k)

— prohero!bkg x phd!reader

since you and bakugou have been going so well, he plans a luxurious date to properly ask you to be his. it turns out to be the worst date of your life.

NOTES: part of my GREYSCALE series. this part could work as a standalone but would make more sense if you read the other parts.

TAGS: situationship. angst. jealousy. class dynamics. insecurity. terrible ex boyfriends mention.

bakugou cannot believe it. 

things are going right between you and him. little by little he’s peeling back the walls you have up, finding out they’re just styrofoam, blocking him from entering your mind. your giggles are louder around him, when he’s out with you, you point at things you like and explain why. this last week, you’ve called him whilst he’s at work just for a chat and once one evening when you were feeling down about a recent grade you got. you even texted him a photo of this massive dog you saw on your walk to your part time job. 

you said the caramel chow chow looked like him. bakugou agrees the dog did, just a little but refused to agree with you. 

it’s practically perfect, even introducing him to your best friend he’s never met before. bakugou was in the area while you were out for drinks with her and you asked him if he wanted to join. you asked him.

so, after confirming with deku, he’s going to ask you again tonight. properly, no kindas or assumptions or maybes, straight up just ask if he can be your boyfriend. 

one evening, when he’s kissing you goodbye at your front door at two in the morning because he does have work in five hours, he tells you, “i’m gonna take you out this weekend. a proper date in the city.” he kisses your lips softly, “i’ll send you where, okay? and i’ll pick you up.”

you’re enamoured. bakugou katsuki has dug a hole in your heart and made it home. that little voice in your head, the one that was always weary, telling you to be careful has been quiet. laid to rest and you think it’s a sign. he’s probably going to ask you to be his girlfriend again and you think you’re going to say yes.

very quickly you find out that voice was only dormant, not dead. you google the restaurant he sent and you panic. it’s a fancy one, one for people that are nowhere close to your tax bracket. you know katsuki isn’t but he’s normal, he’s not flashy aside from his coffee machine and maybe his porsche but you spend so much time at your apartment that you don’t think about the difference in your pockets.

expensive fine dining, michelin star restaurant definitely means you need a dress to play the part. and playing the part it is because since you don’t own anything that suits that trust fund vibe. you have to buy something.

you feel like an idiot in this tight purple dress and you feel like a fraud when katsuki loves it on you.

your katsuki stands at the front door to your apartment in a black suit with these shiny gold cufflinks and you don’t have to be rich to know that it’s expensive. it makes him look imposing, the way the fabric sits on his shoulders, how his white shirt doesn’t carry a single crease like he steamed himself down when he got out of his car. his belt is a subtle branded one, a ‘if you know you know’ brand and you don’t. but your body warms when you peek up at his face, the creases by his eyes and the glint of his gold tooth when he grins at you.

his hand reaches for your face, chunky watch at his wrist before he backs off, grabbing your hand instead.

“fuck, sorry just wanna touch you. don’t wanna mess up your face,” his kiss on your lips is light. you love a hello kiss. “you look gorgeous, doll. don’t deserve you on my arm tonight.”

you don’t feel like yourself in this dress but it fits standing beside him looking like that. you won’t mention you got it from the charity shop across the street.

“shut up,” you swat at him but he just grins, unable to look away from you, “thanks, katsuki. let’s go, don’t wanna miss the reservation.”

you think you look like a woman dynamight should be on a date with. nobody has given you odd looks when you stepped through the doors of the restaurant. the doorman didn’t frown at you when he asked for your jacket. you’re used to tap water for the table and excusing yourself to wash your hands in the bathroom. not a bottle of sealed mountain water being poured into your glass or a bowl of lemon water with a damp towel that katsuki had to tell you it’s for cleaning your hands.

you’re a fish out of water. blinking to take in the place but your eyes are still dry. 

once you’re settled in your seat, wondering who would get crushed first if the impressive diamond glass chandelier falls, your sweet katsuki nudges his knee with yours under the table. “what d’you think? i know it’s not what you’re used to but i thought it could be somethin’ different f’us?”

you hope your smile doesn’t look forced, you’re trying here, you really are. “it’s beautiful. i’m a little overwhelmed honestly.”

you laugh, awkwardly and bakugou grabs your hand. kisses your knuckles and his ruby eyes snatch your breath, “don’t be. after this we can get ice cream from that place near yours. wanna show you how fuckin’ good food can get, aside from the frozen shit you eat.”

you don’t like that comment. your throat constricts and you’re unsure if you’re overreacting. usually you’d laugh it off, he’s always telling you about healthier options but when you’re on the go and on a budget, it’s not always the easiest. it’s worse when you can’t say anything because a waitress hops over.

a pretty girl, around the same age as you and she knows exactly who katsuki is.

“hi i’m your waitress for tonight—,” she looks at you first then bakugou, then again at bakugou. she gasps, covering her mouth and then fixing her hair. her whole face blushes red and you swear you can see the cogs turning in her head, “dynamight, wow you’re my favourite hero! i’ve always wanted to meet you.”

bakugou pulls his hands out of yours, opting to rest them in his lap and lean back in his chair. you’re not thinking rationally here, it feels like he’s pulling away from you, situating himself like the bachelor pro hero he is.

he nods at her, solemn and appreciative, “thanks for the love. i’m always tryin’ my best for the country.”

she’s staring at his face, his plush pink lips that are usually found on your neck and then down his body. does he not fucking see that?

“yes, dynamight. wow! i can’t… sorry, let me take your order!”

she says only to him, body and the tablet she’s holding only facing him. 

bakugou recalls his order with finesse, not even having to look down at the menu and when the waitress remembers you’re still at the table, it’s as if you do too. limbs jump starting as you flip the menu back open and run your finger down each option to find what you originally wanted.

“i can’t find which one…,” you mumble and katsuki sits forward.

“i can come back later if you still need some time, miss. i can get dynamight’s ready.”

you feel like cursing. how the fuck would that make sense, both eating at different times?

“no, here it is!” you read it from the menu, pretty sure you’re butchering the pronunciation, “could i have the sauce on the side?”

she frowns at you, looks at your dress and your hair before meeting your eyes. “the point of that meal is that the sauce is all over.”

bakugou nods but turns to the waitress, “if it’s possible to get it on the side, we’d appreciate it.”

the waitress’s smile blooms across her face, “of course dynamight! anything for you. i’ll get those ready and be back with your drinks.”

once she grabs your menus and is off, you have to mention it.

“i don’t like her.”

bakugou gapes at you, that confused boyish stare that makes you feel like you’re being irrational.

“hah? why?” you’re grateful he puts his elbows on the table. you know that’s a thing rich people say is impolite.

you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “she was only facing you, forgot i was even at the table… she looked at me weirdly and was all over you. only listened to you when i asked for a change to my food.”

bakugou laughs softly, like you’re a baby doing something that’s cute but would be embarrassing if they were an adult. yanking off their sock or burping in public. “she was just a fan, baby. i’m sure you just misread her look.”

you do what you swear you wouldn’t do with men, you let it go and believe what he’s saying. that voice at the back of your head is louder than ever before. you don’t belong here. you’re an idiot to think somehow you match the people surrounding you. with their wrists full of bracelets that cost your undergraduate degree, masters and phd combined. he loves the attention from women, he’s just a man after all.

you sit up straight in your chair, “yeah, maybe.”

then he grins at you, “so tell me what else you found in my office that day?”

the food is amazing, so good you find it irritating. probably would have been better if the sauce was poured over like the waitress said. a woman with massive emerald earrings walks by the table, compliments your dress and your first thought is that she’s laughing at you, an elaborate story builds in your head that she was the one that donated it to the charity shop you bought it from.

“sorry ladies, we’re tryna eat here so i’m not takin’ photos right now.”

you haven’t been able to get through a conversation without getting interrupted by the waitress refilling your drinks the second it’s half empty or a child nervously walking over asking bakugou to sign his napkin. you turn around and see the boy’s parents egging him on, waving at katsuki. as cute as it is, you just want to talk to him. 

but these two women, probably born with a silver spoon in their mouths and four forks on the table, are giving your boy— katsuki, bedroom eyes. a—fucking—gain.

they pout at him, “dynamight! oh well. you’re much bigger in person,” one says.

“is this your girlfriend?” she waves at you and you smile, trying to eat your meal like you’ve been here before.

“no but—,” you feel like he’s just stabbed you in the chest and twisted it. there’s a few more words exchanged after that but you can barely focus. obviously he said no, he’s not your boyfriend, you both have confirmed that all the time. but it’s always felt like a thing you say, not him. 

you feel like crying and you can’t justify why. everything has just been too much, the zipper of your dress is poking you in the back and you don’t like the wine bakugou chose for the table. you prefer your mixers, juice and liquor or the cheap wine your friends buy for the purpose of getting drunk. not to pair the fruity tones to your specific meal.

when bakugou asks if you still want to get ice cream, once you’re buckled in his car, you say you don’t feel too good.

“shit, d’you think it’s the food?” he asks you, squeezing your thigh before pulling out of the parking space.

“no i’ve got a headache, not sure where it’s come from,” you lie, facing the window. “would be best if i go home.”

bakugou notices the lack of we there. his plan was to ask you to be his girlfriend whilst you’re eating ice cream. the little local family owned shop near your apartment that you always drag him to because for some reason it closes late into the early morning. you’ve had many sugary kisses outside that shop, in the rickety blue seats as you force him to try a new flavour every time. 

“okay, baby,” he knows there’s something up with you, “we can watch a movie in bed, if you wanna? order in dessert.”

you hum, barely a response and bakugou racks his mind to find where this all started. he could tell you were nervous at the beginning which makes sense considering you’re not used to restaurants like that. you’re more mini skirt and little top than fancy long designer dresses, he knows this, but he thought the change would be fun. 

“you sure you’re okay? just the headache?” 

you force yourself to meet his eyes. you give a small smile, not linking your fingers with his like you usually do, “yes, katsuki. that’s all.”

bakugou’s completely sure he’s absolutely fucked it. the car ride home was practically silent, only replying back in short sentences, no witty comments from you like usual and you didn’t even make a joke about how hard he tried tonight. no usual comment about rich people have no taste or a laugh at the couple across from you who ordered everything on the menu for the sake of it.

he’s out of his suit now, in one of his t-shirts and basketball shorts in your bedroom as you wipe off your makeup. your hair is out of the style you had it in earlier and he knows it’s cheesy to say but he prefers you like this. even out of the tight dress and just in an oversized tee like usual.

he still wants to ask you to be his but currently, he feels exactly like the last time he mentioned it to you. outside of your world, here but not exactly welcomed. at least visibly, there’s signs of him around the room. his heroes weekly cover is on display on your magazine rack, the first one, in front of all the ones he purposely left in your apartment. it’s the one you took from his office and put there yourself. he had to travel back home to japan a few weeks ago and he brought you back a load of things but you keep the postcards he got you out on display. one is a drawing of a cat that you have framed and another is a line up of traditional japanese houses that you have standing up on your bookshelf. his favourite addition to your room is the photo booth strip of you both on your desk. you haven’t decided where to put it and he’s waiting.

there’s visible differences, which is exactly what he wanted but still, he’s not let inside your head.

you’re quieter since your roommate is sleeping next door, “i’m going to change in the bathroom. brush my teeth and wash up.”

bakugou fucking hates this.

he yanks you to him as he sits on your bed, grabbing your hand so you fall into his chest. 

“katsuki! my clothes—,”

your expensive second hand dress is pressed against his clean white t-shirt and bakugou tucks his chin in your breasts to look up at you.

“talk to me, baby,” he whines at you, “let me in. tell me you hated the place. too many fuckin’ forks on the table. it was a shit date. i’m sorry for the people that came to the table. explain why you didn’t like the waitress. somethin’.”

you look familiar, his yn with your bare face and your jewellery all taken off. once this dress is off, maybe he’ll get you back completely.

you sigh, you don’t know where to start but you register the pain and frustration in his ruby pupils. you would much rather roll in bed with him, have him kiss your thighs to sleep and wake up beside him in the morning.

but you’re partly annoyed at him and you hate to say it but for the first time ever, bakugou reminded you of your ex.

the dismissing your feelings, the comment about the food, choosing somewhere he likes instead of considering you and the women. allowing the flirting, the comments, him saying that you weren’t his girlfriend. which you’re not but…

“i’ll wash up and we can talk.”

bakugou grunts to himself, smacks his lips against each other in disappointment, “didn’t even say it wasn’t a shit date.”

you pull away from him, sighing, “hold on, i’ll be five minutes.”

if tonight couldn’t get any worse, your phone buzzes on the sink as you brush your teeth. you’ve shimmied out of your dress, even kicked it for good measure once it landed on the floor and pulled on your pjs. cotton shorts and one of katsuki’s t-shirts he’s left at yours.

you assume it’s a funny relatable video your friend has sent but the caption beside the notification feels as if you’re being strangled.

@/friend: Post from @/heronewsnow

@/friend: girl wtf is ur man doing

@/friend: i’m gonna murder him for you

you spit out the toothpaste, wiping your face of anything left over and take a breath. you’ve been in this situation before with your last boyfriend. you swore you would never be in it again but how the universe loves to laugh in your face. 

you tap the notification, your phone going straight to the post that your friend sent.

DYNAMIGHT SEEN WITH PINKY ON HIS TRIP HOME. TWO HEROES TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT?

the loud bold text from this hero news page is paired with a photo of them at a restaurant, much like the one he took you to today but across the world. bakugou is in his gorgeous black suit, while this hero, pinky, looks beautiful. she doesn’t look like she’s playing a part in her teal dress, she looks as if she belongs. she’s got her hand over his on the table as he laughs and her smile looks like it’s worth thousands.

you gulp, turning off your phone and placing it face down on the sink. you refuse to look at yourself in the mirror, you can already imagine the word idiot painted on your forehead.

you’ve been cheated on twice. go figure. if it even counts considering he’s not yours.

you walk back into your bedroom exhausted, finding katsuki under your covers reading the blurb of a book you left on your bedside table.

“you took ages in there,” he opens the duvet so you can slip in, “c’mon i wanna cuddle.”

you want to cry. you want to scream into your pillow and write off dating for the end of time. this is why you shouldn’t have let yourself get close to this man. tomorrow you’re throwing out his magazine covers, the new hand painted bowls he got you and you’re going to get your tool kit to take apart the advertisement at your nearest bus stop where dynamight is pictured half naked telling you to buy new underwear.

you really want to wrap yourself in his arms and have the night you were supposed to have together.

“you have to leave.”

“hah?” he blurts, though he doesn’t move, “the date wasn’t that fuckin’ bad was it?”

“i’m serious, katsuki. leave!” you screech, clenching your fists. the tears that have been dying to fall all evening finally do.

you spin away from him, taking deep breaths and wiping your eyes. you can’t let him see you cry. bakugou pounces up from your bed and he risks it all by placing his hands on your waist, your back to his chest.

“what the fuck is goin’ on with you?” he mumbles, leaning his cheek against your head. “why’re you cryin’? the date was shit, yeah? then talk to me.”

he went back to japan on a work trip, he told you he was on a work trip but he was on a date with a woman. another pro hero who looks perfect with him and fits his life, the girlfriend he’s supposed to have. 

the warmth of his chest is a comfort you need to learn to hate.

you step away from him, taking a deep breath. you decide to face him once you’re sure no tears will fall and his face breaks your heart. his fingers are twitching to touch you, but since you won’t let him, he anxiously rakes them through his hair.

your voice is scratching your throat, dry and raw, “i didn’t like the restaurant, i felt uncomfortable. the waitress was flirting with you, so were those women that wanted photos with you. i never got to finish a sentence we had so many distractions. i felt like an idiot, a child playing dress up in a world that wasn’t made for me. y-you told those girls i wasn’t your girlfriend and… and i know i’m not but it felt like shit.”

then you half laugh, it’s an awkward one, “the food was good though. better than my shitty frozen food.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes and you’re not even finished.

“baby, yn, i just wanted to try somethin’ new for us, that was my bad. shoulda kept it to what we know,” he tries, “and i guess they were flirtin’ but i didn't do i back?”

you shake your head, “that’s not the point. i don’t want to be on a date and witness that. you should have shut them down from the beginning.”

“they’re fans, i can’t shut down every fan—,”

“but you can.”

“yn, c’mon now.” bakugou grits his teeth, “i’m sorry about that and i didn’t mean to sound like a dick when i was talkin’ about food.”

“you think i’m being sensitive? dramatic?” you offer because you rather just have the words out before he can throw them at you later.

“fuck no, today was a lot. everythin’ combined, it makes sense that what i said sounded like that.” he frowns, so understanding it annoys you more. 

you sigh obnoxiously and bakugou feels his blood boil. he knows when he’s fucked up but what was wrong with what he said? “what?! is that the wrong thing to say?”

“no it’s not!” you throw your hands up in the air.

“then what?” he presses and bakugou has to because he never presses you. “you never talk to me. i’m always walkin’ on fuckin’ eggshells tryin’ to figure out if i’m comin’ or goin’ with you. you decide you like me one day and the next you want me to fuck off. i’m sorry i wanted to impress you with an expensive restaurant. yes, i should have dealt with all the fans differently. i should have been more aware of how you’re feelin’ but you don’t tell me shit.”

his chest heaves, out of breath and now he’s started he can’t stop. “you’re… you’re willin’ to drag me along knowing how much you have me wrapped around your finger. i’ve been down from the first week i met you but i was careful not to be too much so i don’t scare you. it’s been months, fuckin’ months and you still won’t tell me why you won’t let me in. why you don’t want me the same way i want you.”

he’s careful not to shout, so his words keep wobbling in pitch. “i haven’t done anythin’ wrong but i’m payin’ for your exes goddamn mistakes!”

you don’t want to see where he’s coming from, face your own mistakes in your relationship with him. you know he’s right but today proved you guys wouldn’t even work together. it feels like oxygen is slowly leaving the room, your chest heaves while bakugou grits his teeth at you. you handle accusations the only way you know how, you throw one back to him.

“well i guess you don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“what?”

he didn’t rant for you to walk away from him, he doesn’t want to leave you. 

“your trip back home, going on dates with heroes. you both look good together,” you scoff, “even when you take precautions, even though you’re not my boyfriend, it still feels like being cheated on.”

you step away from him, wiping your eyes before tears can fall. your heart beats against your chest like a drum and you just want him out of your space. you want to be curled up in his arms. you wish that you were a clean slate meeting him for the first time, perhaps the version of you that didn’t get your heartbroken but now you come to any lover after with precaution and warning.

“the fuck are you on about? what date?” bakugou spits, not bothering to keep his voice down for your roommate.

he towers over you and despite his burning annoyance at how terrible the day has become, he can’t help but feel bad. especially at how you’re unable to meet his eyes, how you hug around your body and clutch your phone tightly.

you’re tapping your foot like you’re too busy for this conversation but it’s just a nervous tick, “the hero accounts are talking about you going on a date with another hero back in japan. i’m not mad, we aren’t together.”

it’s true, you’re not mad. you’re devastated. your tiny whisper, “please leave, katsuki.” is a physical punch in his stomach.

“i didn’t go on a date. i met up with a friend, mina right? that’s who you’re talkin’ about?”

your breaths come out as little hiccups and he knows for a fact you hate that he’s perceiving you like this. you’re distraught, refusing to let him see a tear slip and whilst telling him to leave, you still want to hear what he has to say.

“pinky. that pink hero,” you reply quietly.

“baby, yn, listen,” he notices your jaw clench at the name but you glance up at him. your eyes are blood shot, sending him daggers.

“she’s my friend from school. we grew up together. we had a hero event, the one i texted you about and then we went out to eat after. it wasn’t no fuckin’ date,” bakugou keeps his voice levelled, risking it all by lifting his palm to your cheek.

you lean into it like a kitten, “then why is her hand over yours in the picture?”

you’re embarrassingly wailing at him, lips in a sad pout and you swore to yourself months ago you wouldn’t end up like this again in front of a man. how the mighty have fallen.

bakugou coos you gently, so tender when he brushes a tear from you cheek, “what picture, baby?”

he’s shocked when you unlock your phone and the picture you’re talking about is the first one on the screen. along with the stupid headline and yes, her hand over his.

bakugou grunts, then sighs.

you’re a firecracker, quick to pull his hand off your cheek but he’s faster yanking you into his chest so you can’t escape.

“let me go, you dick,” but you barely fight, resting your face between his pectorals as he sits his hand on your waist.

“i was talkin’ to her about you. how you don’t want me back and i’m obsessed. she laughed and felt bad for me so she was just comfortin’ me.” he says it slowly, speaking at your bookshelf. 

your room is coated in silence. about five seconds worth, before you look up at him from where he’s got you squashed.

“how am i supposed to believe you?”

bakugou rolls his eyes, running his pointer finger in circles on your lower back, “that’s all up to you, babe. have i ever lied to you? i’ve only ever been honest with you.”

the words fall out of your mouth before you can even register them.

with your cheek pressed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist and your eyes closed, you say it so fast it’s barely coherent. “my last boyfriend cheated on me while i was dating him. the whole time. i liked him for about a year before we made it official and he cheated. practically everyday.”

finally, an explanation, bakugou thinks. but it’s not as satisfying as he hoped it would be. he demands the burning rage to simmer, he’s not here to be angry for you, you’ve done enough of that over the years. he kisses your temple and sits down in your bed. he pulls you onto his lap and you’re grateful that you don’t have to maintain eye contact. 

“how’d you find out?”

you sigh, wiping your nose with his t-shirt, “i knew for a fact for two weeks but still continued seeing him. i saw texts on his phone, then i got dms from girls asking if i was his girlfriend because he was with them last night.”

he can’t help it, “i wanna murder him.”

“same,” you laugh wetly, running your finger down a vein in his forearm, “i still haven’t let it go, i still hate him.”

“so that’s why you’re so careful with me gettin’ close to you.”

“that’s why you’re paying for my exes mistakes,” you try to joke and bakugou throws his head back in a huff.

“i didn’t mean that, i was just—,”

“i’m sorry.” you blurt, pressing your thumb into the thick muscle in bakugou’s arm, “i know i’ve been difficult and you’ve always come back.”

bakugou doesn’t know how to accept your apology, without the niggling knowledge that you’ve been aware of how much pain you’ve caused him. he holds you tight against him, hand holding your thighs to him and his other around your back.

he takes a shaky breath. when he looks up, directly forward he notices a photo booth strip of you and him, the same one on your table. he forgot that you picked up two while he took just one. turns out you did find a home for the photo. the solo photo booth strip you had attached to your fairy lights above your wardrobe now is replaced with you and him.

the first includes his grumpy face frowning at the camera while you grin with a peace sign.

the second he’s somewhat happier, his arm around your shoulders, smirking at the camera while you knock your head with his.

the third is when you put your hand on his jaw so he faces you and you kissed him. your eyes are closed while he looks at you surprised for initiating.

the fourth and last is just you both smiling at each other, his hand over yours on his cheek.

bakugou knows now, finally featured all over your room, a part of your life, what he must do.

“i was going to ask you to be my girlfriend again today,” he sniffs, staring at the strip, “while we ate ice cream at the little place ‘round the corner.”

you half laugh, wiping your face with the bottom of your tshirt, “i thought as much.”

“would you have said yes?” he tests and he doesn’t mean for his grip on you to get tighter but he’s preparing for the slow burn through his body at the rejection.

“i…,” you breathe softly, “i think so? i want you to be my boyfriend but today was all over the place and it made me question things.”

bakugou’s already nodding before you finish your sentence. he picks you off his lap and stands up, running a large palm over his face.

“what? what’s wrong?” you blubber and for someone who was just begging him to leave, the pendulum has swung on the opposite side. telling him your demons, why you’re so hard to love is supposed to make him stay, kiss you to sleep and live happily ever after.

“i’m gonna go home,” bakugou says and you’ve never seen the pro hero defeated. not in his career, on those clips on the news or when he comes to you after a villain brawl. but now, you can tell. he’s reached his limit with you.

his eyes droop with tiredness, physically and mentally. there’s a crease between his eyebrows because of his constant frown tonight and he’s no longer fidgeting with his hands. once they’re off his face, he stuffs them in his pockets and looks away from you.

“but… but i want you to stay now,” and you don’t want to cry again but you can feel it, fuck you can feel the burn of your throat with every word.

“you’re still not sure about me. one date couldn’t have been enough to completely change your mind about me. i’ve been sure for months about you, with every-fuckin’-thing you’ve thrown at me,” he grunts, chewing his bottom lip. forcefully rubbing his forehead like his mind will soften after. nothing works, “i’m gonna go.”

he opens your wardrobe, pulling out the suit he wore earlier, perfectly hung up with a black cloak over it. then he grabs his phone off your bedside table.

panic takes over you, your breathing stuttering, your thoughts jumping to the extremes, your hands clutching anything for purchase. you sit up on your knees. “are we over? are you breaking up with me?”

that makes him pause. he feels like punching himself in the throat for making you sound how he imagined your ex boyfriend made you. katsuki doesn’t want to lose you, that’s the last thing he wants to do here but it might be necessary now.

“we’re over,” he mutters yet loud enough for you both to hear.

you freeze, slumping down onto your ass, “no… but i don’t want to be over.”

“you don’t know what you want yn. some days you want me, others you don’t. some days you’re okay with pretending i don’t exist and others you’re all over me,” bakugou looks at you, sunken into your mattress, tears pouring down your cheeks. “it’s not fuckin’ fair.”

“please don’t go,” you tremble. pleading for a man, you’d rather die than admit you’ve ever done this but bakugou katsuki is different. he’s always been different. that’s what scared you.

“i’ll come back to pick up my other stuff. but i’m leavin’ for now.” he nods at you. he’s surprised at how calm he feels, as if he’s finally making a decision with his best interests in mind. he’s taking the wheel here, for the first time he’s in control of where your relationship is heading. even if it’s in the burning fire. “goodbye, yn.”

“i’m not saying bye to you,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. “i don’t want you to go.”

katsuki knows he shouldn’t, but he does anyway. he steps over to you, cups the back of your head with his hand and kisses the top. 

“bye,” he mumbles into your scalp, “you’ll always know where i am.”

back in his greyscale apartment. lacking life, lacking you.

with that bakugou leaves you alone in your bed and only when your front door clicks shut do you fall back onto your pillows. loud wails unleash out of your body and like you always do for each other, your roommate knocks on your door.

comments and reblogs are appreciated. I delete comments asking for the next part.

[i-steddier]

it's my boy's birthday!!

[bfbkg]

BABY DADDY MASTERLIST

— meet kenji bakugou yln!! the baby of yn yln and bakugou katsuki. no, they’re not married… or in a relationship… yeah, you know they’ve never dated! it was just a one night stand and she still had the baby. i heard he’s a good father too… wait look, are you sure like they’re not dating?

— tags: romance, angst, fluff, doctor!reader, baby mama!reader, baby daddy!bkg, pro hero!bkg, eventual smut, secret relationship, female reader

— if you’d like to be on the taglist: here

— #baby daddy bkg : everything on the blog about them!

001 CRUSH

— bakugou has a crush on his baby mama

002 BAD TO BETTER (2.6k)

— after a bad day at work, your baby father comes over to drop your kid home

003 THE REAL DYNAMIGHT (3.7k)

— you take it upon yourself to deliver this ugly yellow haired figurine prototype to the dynamight office

004 M.I.A (5.8k)

— pro hero dynamight is currently missing in action!

005 WONDER CHILD (5.6k)

— mr and mrs bakugou, can we talk about kenji inside please?

006 WISHFUL THINKING (5k)

— after practically begging for you to go on a date with him, bakugou katsuki is still yet to ask you out on one so you ask him to fix your car.

007 GOLDEN (13k)

— your baby father takes you on a date to a hero gala. he ends up threatening to kill someone.

other:

in the supermarket

questions

mama bakugou

more mama bakugou

questions

tantrums