simpo

25+ Hinata, Bakugo and Sylus wh0re / Izuku kinnie / MDNI 🔞 /not rly a writer, i just write down stuff when the daydreams are too strong

[simporado]

BKG 💥 masterlist

SFW

bkg being sweet towards pms-ing reader

ph!bkg and ph!reader (established relationship scenarios)

awkward misunderstanding

“you’re somethin else”

he cant catch himself sometimes

bakugo & you getting caught kissing by aizawa sensei

NSFW

eye contact during sex

cockwarming him

katsuki thinks you’re soft

down bad katsuki

bone-popping sex

[tokkushin]

katsuki cannot handle it when you ride him, even though he'll tell you otherwise. he's boastful the first time, all cocky and eager, confidence just dripping from his voice as he gets comfortable on the bed.

but as soon as he feels you sink onto him, legs on either side of his hips and hands resting on his shoulders, it's as if all his self-control is gone.

and for a while, he can handle it. he can keep up with you and help you move against him. but his resolve is no match for your stamina and the sweet sounds of your voice in his ear.

when you lean forward, hugging his body to yours, face pressed into the hollow of his neck and all he can hear are your moans and whimpers in the shell of his ear, he's a goner :(

he knows it and so do you.

his heart practically beating in his throat, eyes bloodshot and his forehead dewy. it's like he's paralyzed. completely in awe as he watches himself disappear inside you. over and over again.

not even you calling his name can take him out of this trance, nor the way you plant kisses on his face as a check for a sign of life — he's completely lost in you and would never dare to find his way back.

sighhhhhh, r.i.p. the dih 🫩

[dotlusional]

kiss | bakugo, k.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, yearner!best friend!katsuki, fem!afab!sheltered(ish)!virgin!reader, implied oral sex, mention of condoms, kissing pussy through underwear, kissing, makeout, mention of sex, fluffy, friends to lovers, love confession, reader has hair, swearing, reader has parents, erections, both katsuki and reader are in early 20s

ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old account. the reason why i posted this despite it being more recent is because. the dialogue is already colored and im lazy to edit other things

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: best friend bakugo notices you can't handle kissing scenes

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~1.2k

you always cover your eyes when a kissing scene in a movie or show comes on.

it's a habit, one instilled into you by your parents since childhood. that's why, as you and your best friend, katsuki, watched a romance together for the first time, you hadn't even noticed you were still doing it until he pointed it out.

“what are you doing?” he asks, confusion lacing his voice. he shoots you a sideways glance.

you peek at him through your fingers, before slowly lowering your hands. “…nothing,” you mumble. usually when the two of you watched movies, it was him who would choose what to watch— selecting some sort of action-packed film that was so quintessentially boyish and therefore perfect as background noise for when your brain would turn off. needless to say, when you brought up your request for movie night this week, you were rather surprised with how easily he obliged, perhaps more than he was with what you picked out. he simply just expected you to actually watch it, rather than spend most of your time hiding your face from the screen.

his eyebrow lifts, still concerned. “you good?”

“yeah, yeah,” you nod, eyes flicking back to the tv. as if on cue, another kissing scene pops up and your hands reflexively raise to block your vision. the look from katsuki is already expected.

an embarrassed sigh escapes you as you decide explaining things would be easier. “okay, when i was little, i wasn’t allowed to watch kissing, so like now, i don’t know what to do when it comes up as an adult… like if i should watch or look away.”

katsuki's lips purse. “what do you when you actually do it?”

his typical bluntness somehow catches you off guard, and your face swiftly heats up. “i don’t. or like, i mean, i haven’t done it yet.”

“…you for real?”

“stop,” you huff, “don’t even.”

“i’m not even ‘even’—ing — i’m just... surprised. the hell do you do on all those dates you go on?”

“i told you,” you half shrug, your gaze avoiding his, “i just talk and stuff.”

“see,” he rolls his eyes, tsking lightly, “when someone says ‘and stuff,’ it makes you think they’re having sex.“

the blush across your cheeks intensifies, the back of your neck practically on fire at this point. “i… i’m not doing that either, you weirdo,” you stammer. “what i mean is what i say, you know that.”

he shrugs, yet there's something very thoughtful in his expression now. “i guess i just didn’t know how strong your commitment to honesty was.”

“what does that mean?”

“i just… i dunno,” he shrugs again, “i thought you had game.”

“i have game,” you scoff, “i’m just waiting... for the right person.”

he takes pause. “who’s that?”

“who’s what?”

“the right person.”

“i don’t know,” you mutter, “guess when i’ll meet them i’d know.”

another silence falls between you, this one thicker than before. his mouth opens to speak, before closing, and then opening again.

“what if they’re like...” he cuts himself off with a sigh, “...ah, nevermind.”

you tilt your head, curiosity cutting through your nerves. “like what?”

“like… right in front of you.”

you blink.

“...katsuki?”

“i'm sorry,” he mumbles out quickly, moving to stand, “i don't— just forget it...”

“no, katsuki, please— wait,” you reach out to him, your hand landing on his wrist. you take a breath before continuing, mind grappling to make sense of it all. “are you saying you... like me? like...like me?”

his leg bounces. “yeah,” he admits after a beat, voice lower now, like he’s forcing the words out before he can talk himself out of it, “of course i do. but i get if you don't see me that way—”

“no, no—” you reassure, shaking your head, “i do. i do.”

upon hearing your requital, katsuki swallows thickly. after all these years of pining for you in silence, trying to convince himself to just give up his pointless crush, the words leaving your tongue couldn't sound any sweeter. he glances at you again, eyes flicking to your lips before snapping back up, a flicker of nerves flashing across his face as temptation begins to gnaw at him.

“what... what are you doing?” you find yourself whispering as he leans closer.

“can i kiss you?” he murmurs, “please?”

it feels like your heart may nearly burst out your chest at the question. before you can over think it, you nod.

surprisingly, the lips of your best friend are soft as they brush against yours. the kiss is brief, nervous, barely more than a peck, and nothing like the confident katsuki you know, and yet it manages to send a shock straight down your spine all the same. that being said, it surprises you both when your hands find the collar of his shirt in order to pull him back in for another, and even more when the rush of gravity sends the two of you tumbling down onto the floor.

as the kiss intensifies— teeth clashing, tongues exploring, gasps and moans filling the air, it nearly feels like the newly-discovered jaws of passion might consume you whole. you barely clock the hard on in katsuki's pants pressing against your thigh in the heat of it all — too distracted with how naturally his hands entangle themself into your hair — until he pulls away from you with a groan, the weight's absence discernibly missed as he rests his forehead against yours.

still, you don't bring awareness to it, too busy trying to catch your breath. “i...wow...” you manage, wiping your chin of drool with the back of your hand. “is it always like that?”

he shakes his head, clearing his throat with a rough sound. “it's never been that good for me,” he rasps, before a passing thought crosses his mind, “definitely could be better though.”

“better?”

with half-lidded eyes, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s still weighing how much to say out loud. eventually he exhales, the sound quiet and decisive.

“…fuck it,” he mutters under his breath.

carefully, his hands slide down your sides, before settling at your hips— the movement more hesitant than sure, intent on giving you every chance to pull away, yet the question is clear, even if unsaid.

can i fuck you?

“oh,” you mumble, your mouth feeling desert-dry while a heat began to pool low in your core. “i... do you have a condom?”

katsuki nods feverishly, thumbs moving to hook through your shorts' belt loops in order to tug them down. “we're not gonna need that for a while though.”

“w-we're not?"

for the first time tonight, you finally see that familiar smirk spread across his face. you've always said he's had the weirdest humor. and yet, you watch attentively as he lowers his mouth to press a soft kiss to your navel, and then to the lips of your cotton-clad pussy— the fabric positively soaked with arousal now.

“don't cover your eyes, okay?"

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

IF YOU HAD MY LOVE // LITTLE BIT!!

your coworkers are convinced that a certain fiery na'vi has a soft spot for you, but that couldn't be further from the truth...right ?

pairing. na'vi!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count. 1.7K

content warning. na'vi katsuki, alienxhuman, based on the avatar (2009) movie- granted i wanna rewatch it soon but i dont rlly know if im saying all the terms correctly so keep that in mind, fluffl nuffin bad just wanted to talk about this tehee, na'vi language (def not accurate its hard to find a good translator..frown), katsuki threatening murder in na'vi, bullysuki strikes again, jealousy...ouuuu, oblivious!reader and emotionally constipated pining katsuki bc even if he is an alien he's just as stupid ilhsm, humoungous size difference he's like 9ft lmao real monsterfuckers come to the front

A/N. my random avatar (2009) phase returning full form granted me the opportunity to write again. literally who wouldve thought...well im not complaining ! hope y'all like it :>

bakugou was a force to be reconned with.

being able to interact with the na'vi species, or the homo pandorus if you want to be real scientifical as your seniors say, was a joy you're glad to be experience every day. granted, you were quite a bit younger than the average member in your sci-ops branch, but that absolutely didn't dull your expertise and drive to learn more about the creatures, that was one of the very factors that had gotten you selected for the program. you were at least happy to see your mentor was just as excitable as you when it came to na'vi, although some would consider mrs. nemuri a bit hysterical, you could see the passion in her. and you were happy she gave you a chance.

that being said, the experience had been nothing short of wonderful for you. the language, the customs, it was all so new and exciting. even if you did almost piss your pants when you first landed on base. you were notified that na'vi are quite tall, but nine feet (minimum, by the way.) was bound to surprise you a couple times, right ?!

however, not letting your clumsiness hold you down, you did well for yourself and even managed to make some friends, with researchers and na'vi alike. after being settled on base for quite some time, you'd even managed to pick up some basic phrases and expressions, while not perfect, it's enough to hold a conversation. and make your friends laugh at your so called "silly accent."

however. you'd become fascinated (or the target, from his point of view) with a rather quirky character--

bakugou katsuki.

the other researchers joke around about you being his favourite, due to the fact that whenever you're around he's quick to pick on you. one of your coworkers even commented that they suspected he'd come to base to look for you specifically.

"you were out on lunch break when he came in here demanding to know where you were, and when i did he scurried off in a hurry. he looked super disappointed, was almost cute." they joked.

you're always quick to wave it off. every since your first day, bakugou has always had a reputation of being a bit of a brute. he has quite the harsh vocab from the few words of his mother tongue you'd managed to pick up; he talks roughly and most of the words you'd managed to remember were curse words since they never seemed to leave his mouth.

he picks fights with his fellow na'vi very often in these weird tests of strength/training exercises that he always takes too far. he complains often about other warriors being " 'eveng."

he puts up quite the fight with researchers and scientists alike over every little thing and while interacting with his kind had, truly you mean it wholly, been a pleasure. he's always been the oddball, the one your fellow man couldn't quite place. to put it simply; he was the big bully on the block.

but somehow, the running gag slowly morphed into a common consensus among everyone in your wing. for some reason, somehow. he was different with you.

you personally didn't see it at all. bakugou was just as mean to you as he was with everyone else. whenever he found himself in your space he'd hulk over you, his massive frame casting a shadow over you and most annoyingly your work notes. this made it practically impossible for you to get anything done and the bastard made it damn obvious he knew what he was doing and enjoyed messing with you.

he'd go out of his way to knock things over with that stupid thick tail of his and ignore you when you called him out on it. and when it wasn't his stupid tail he'd bat things off your desk with his large, scarred hands, claiming it an "accident". when you caught him red handed in the process of knocking over trinkets on your office desk, he'd remain silent. huffing through his nose, a little sassy noise he always let out around others like instinct. right, because you were the one at fault here.

but you will admit that he seems to be more...comfortable (?) around you. when you first started becoming more familiar with him he'd force a language swap of sorts; in subtle ways.

he'd repeat your words in his own broken way and his tone made it extremely clear he wanted you to explain what certain words meant. only for him to never say anything back or ask you outright what they meant unless you explained of your own accord.

and when he wasn't laughing at your pronunciation, he'd repeat words you'd say wrong at you louder like that was a viable way of teaching, huffing through his noise when you'd get it like he wanted. you never understood if the noise was proud or mocking. it's hard to tell with him.

you were informed he was apathetic and reluctant to study english, something or other about how the language was beneath him (you wonder often where his massive ego comes from.) but you realised he picked it up rather quickly. he refused every compliment you gave him with an indignant snort.

eijirou had once told you that he never spoke much around you because he was embarrassed. that he'd spend most of his time subtly practicing by speaking english more often around others but would stop completely once you were around. you doubted bakugou would every admit it to you, but found it quite sweet.

luckily he got more comfortable talking to you after a while. or well, talking at you you should say.

he spent his time berating you and calling you dumb. or showing off about how much stronger he was than "you humans." you didn't mind much, it was entertaining having him around to fill in the silence, not one moment passed when he wasn't talking at you about something he did. (and if he wasn't, he'd find some way or other to bother you until he got bored and left.)

"y'know bakugou, showing off like this won't make you popular with girls." you teased, not looking up from your microscope.

though you don't even need to look at his face to know of the indignant look he shoots you, especially as he lets out a groan of disdain, he's very vocal to accompany his dramatics.

"don't need that." he shoots back quickly.

quicker than your eye can follow he snatches something off your desk. when you look up you see him holding a small shiny, purple tinted rock. kaminari, another na'vi friend, handed it to you as a gift.

"put that back." you say, although there's no alarm in your tone. he might be reckless, but bakugou never broke anything of yours on purpose. last time he accidentally did he spent a week creepily lurking around you, then bringing you banana fruit as a wordless apology.

"..who gave this ?" he sniffs the item. you look up at his face to see him scowling at the gift his friend brought you.

"ah, that was kaminari. he was so excited about it, too. i don't know what it is, but it looks pretty." you recall.

katsuki's brows furrow as you continue explaining, he eyes you in a way that you could only describe as suspicious. or maybe..irritated ?

he scoffs, loud and much too angry for something so small clutched between his fingers.

" 'upe nga keng si fa fì'u 'u ? skxawng."

you don't understand what he says and you would ask, but you catch that last word clear as day. not like you couldn't, he uses it daily. skxawng.

"hey ! i know what that means, quite being mean ! and gimme my thing back !" you shout. sitting up to reach for your gift. bakugou effortlessly lifts it away from you.(frankly, you should've seen that coming) eyes still on you he's, surprisingly, silent for a moment. simply looking down at you.

"...need this."

"huh ?"

his eyes lock onto yours, more intensely than they ever had before.

"you...don't need this." he mumbles, quieter than his ever loud mouth had uttered words before.

you freeze, for many reasons. bakugou clicks a couple times, muttering something you don't catch under his breath.

"..stupid." he adds.

"it's not stupid," you reply, defending your friends honor "kaminari's my friend, i appreciate that he thought about me."

"no."

"..no ?" you mimic, confused. his expression sours and he speaks again. firmer.

"no."

"..no, what ?!"

"stupid. don't appreciate." he spits.

your eyebrows furrow "i do !"

"don't." his furrow harder.

"bakugou, you're being weird." you sigh, exasperated by his antics. you take the opportunity to poke his firm, toned stomach, which doesn't hurt him, of course. but it catches him off guard enough to distract him. you jump with all your might, which regrettably isn't very high (you're an researcher, not a warrior, okay?!) and manages to snatch your shiny rock out of his grip.

flabbergasted, he blinks a few times before trying to reach for your rock again, but you clutch it to your chest and he freezes, knowing you're intent on protecting it. with your life if you must.

(okay, maybe a little dramatic. but if they go low, you go lower.)

he growls and hisses at you, but you ignore his antics and get back to work. keeping the rock on your other side where he can't reach and grabbing your notepad to continue analysing the matter in front of you.

"bark all you want, you won't get anything outta me. now, shoo." you swat in his direction, pretending to concentrate on your work. from the corner of your eye you see how his fist clenches and worry tugs at your mind for a moment, there must be something genuinely bothering him.

before you can think to ask (he's quite fast) he's huffing through his nose again, resolute. and makes his way out of your post, not before spitefully knocking off a random purple marker off your desk.

"close the door behind you, please." you sigh, rolling your eyes. his fading voice growls something out.

"oel tspìsyang paon."

"what ?!" you call for him, but he's already almost out the door.

"skxawng."

"hey !!"

the door slams shut.

translations (note that these might not be super accurate!) :

'eveng - child. basically calling them children or crybabies in this context.

'upe nga keng si fa fì'u 'u ? skxawng. - what would you even do with this thing ? what an idiot.

• oel tspìsyang paon. - i’m going to kill him.

[tokkushin]

katsuki cannot handle it when you ride him, even though he'll tell you otherwise. he's boastful the first time, all cocky and eager, confidence just dripping from his voice as he gets comfortable on the bed.

but as soon as he feels you sink onto him, legs on either side of his hips and hands resting on his shoulders, it's as if all his self-control is gone.

and for a while, he can handle it. he can keep up with you and help you move against him. but his resolve is no match for your stamina and the sweet sounds of your voice in his ear.

when you lean forward, hugging his body to yours, face pressed into the hollow of his neck and all he can hear are your moans and whimpers in the shell of his ear, he's a goner :(

he knows it and so do you.

his heart practically beating in his throat, eyes bloodshot and his forehead dewy. it's like he's paralyzed. completely in awe as he watches himself disappear inside you. over and over again.

not even you calling his name can take him out of this trance, nor the way you plant kisses on his face as a check for a sign of life — he's completely lost in you and would never dare to find his way back.

sighhhhhh, r.i.p. the dih 🫩

[tokkushin]

katsuki cannot handle it when you ride him, even though he'll tell you otherwise. he's boastful the first time, all cocky and eager, confidence just dripping from his voice as he gets comfortable on the bed.

but as soon as he feels you sink onto him, legs on either side of his hips and hands resting on his shoulders, it's as if all his self-control is gone.

and for a while, he can handle it. he can keep up with you and help you move against him. but his resolve is no match for your stamina and the sweet sounds of your voice in his ear.

when you lean forward, hugging his body to yours, face pressed into the hollow of his neck and all he can hear are your moans and whimpers in the shell of his ear, he's a goner :(

he knows it and so do you.

his heart practically beating in his throat, eyes bloodshot and his forehead dewy. it's like he's paralyzed. completely in awe as he watches himself disappear inside you. over and over again.

not even you calling his name can take him out of this trance, nor the way you plant kisses on his face as a check for a sign of life — he's completely lost in you and would never dare to find his way back.

sighhhhhh, r.i.p. the dih 🫩

[melancholiclace]

Saw you ask for Bakugo requests so here’s the vision… (NSFW) *Also this could work for other people too, especially Iida (which I would also love to see)

Classmates at UA are gossiping about y/n and Bakugo, because they are study partners and they study in either your or Bakugo’s dorm together.

Classmate: “I wonder if they ever do anything more than just study”

Other classmate: “Nah, he cares way too much his grades. He probably doesn’t even think about stuff like that”

Cut y/n and Bakugo (or Iida or anyone else) fucking like feral animals in heat

✨the vision✨

hihi, actually think this idea is so fun lol. i'll include both bakugo and iida because i think you're right this is perfect for iida and it'd be a crime not to write for him too!

warning for nsfw: degrading on Katsuki's part, Tenya is an underwear thief, sex while studying (you'll be prepared for anatomy at least!), aftercare, and your friends are slightly perverted

katsuki bakugo x f!reader & tenya iida x f!reader - study buddies

Katsuki Bakugo

"So," Jiro began, twirling her ear-jack with her index finger, her other hand occupied with stirring the plastic straw around her strawberry matcha. "You're with Bakugo a lot."

The cafe bustled around you two in controlled chaos, chatter, and coffee. It was the perfect day for a friend-date, and she'd suggested you head out to the student-run cafe near school. It was an easy ten-minute walk, and you would've gone regardless because you were dying for a sweet treat and some quality time with your friend.

"Um." You stirred your own drink, ice clinking faintly. Outside the sun shone, warm and loving, a nice backdrop to the hangout, though maybe contrasting to the sharp smell of fruity syrups and espresso you caught whiffs of inside the cafe. "I guess so."

It wasn't hidden that everyone in your class thought you were Katsuki's dirty little secret, the girlfriend that he was too shy to share the news of with others.

In truth you were something, but you didn't want to entertain your classmates and the perverted theories of theirs you'd heard in passing.

They're always in his dorm, her dorm... What do you think they do in there all the time? They can't actually be studying, a guy with a girl like her.

Bakugo is aiming for Number One. He's not the type of get to get distracted by stupid carnal desires.

They make out. They have to. They don't do anything else. At least I wouldn't... Not if I studied with her.

He uses her for 'training.'

She slums good grades off him by giving him head.

They don't study, they fuck!

"I'm not trying to tease you or anything," said Jiro. "I think it's nice that you guys are together. If anything, that guy could learn to blow off some steam and you probably help him—"

"We're not together. We're study buddies," you interjected.

"Study buddies?"

"Yes."

"Not study-fuck buddies?"

"Kyoka!"

"All right, all right, whatever. I just want to ask—do you guys actually study? Or do you just goof around and watch movies or something?"

"We study."

---

"She actually asked you that?" Katsuki questioned, two fingers deep in you as you squirmed against his straddling body. He had you between him and your bed, and a smug grin on his face. You'd been babbling while he worked you open (fingering you and begging you to give him at least one more orgasm before he was in you), and you let the anecdote of your talk with Jiro slip out.

"G-God... Can you—" You let out a breathy gasp when he curled his fingers exactly right, smirking wider. "Kats!"

"What?" he cooed.

"You're being an ass—"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"C'mon, just tell me, babe. Jiro actually ask you that? What'd ya say? That we work and what-not, or that we just have sex?"

He captured you and pulled you back down when your body tried to buck up, then punished you with a searing kiss that left you painfully breathless before he let up. "Or did ya get shy? You're always shy with me, even though I've seen you like this a million times. Don't tell me Jiro gets you shy too—"

"Shut up!" You grabbed his shirt—it wasn't fair, you were undressed, save for your sweater, and he hadn't stripped anything off. "I told her that we study! Because we do!"

"Yeah," he said, pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean. Then went his gym shorts. "I guess so."

You were almost spent. He'd pushed you to the brink with the first round—and it didn't look like he planned to let up any.

"W-Well, we do," you said quietly, not able to concentrate much as he rearranged you two into a missionary position. Forgotten textbooks and an assignment you both had due the next day laid in the floor. Katsuki had swiped them off after he deemed half an hour enough 'studying time.'

"If you want to call this studying," Katsuki said as he pushed himself into you all a once, a brutal, sweet burn erupting in your pussy, "knock yourself out."

He set off at a brutal pace, snapping his hips forward and back in a jerky pattern. His breath came out labored as he hovered over you, taking in how beautiful you looked while taking him. When your hands flew up to his hair, tugging and gripping, he hissed. "Fuck, babe. Too much?"

"No... Not enough—" you said just before being cut off by the pressure and warmth building in your stomach. "Keep going, Kats."

He kept at the same harsh pace until you grabbed his shoulder, then his thrusts became languid and expectant as he watched your face contort. When the orgasm washed over you, you let out a low moan and buried your face against his chest.

Katsuki was smiling smugly, hand stroking your hair and your sweat-glistened back. "Good job, baby. So good. Love you so much. That's it. This make studying worth it? Better remember this in class. When you're taking a test, make sure to remember how your boyfriend helped you out."

"Katsuki..." you whined as he lifted you off the bed and situated you in his lap. He'd slowly pulled out, briefly mesmerized by your slick combined with the suction your pussy had on his dick.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he whispered, kissing your neck. "Ya don't want anyone to know what a slut you are for me. Nobody knows you're dating me, but they still get the idea that you're fuckin' me behinds closer doors."

He laughed, genuinely and heartily, as he reached over to the nightstand—to grab you a bottle of water—then said, "I like that. Like them knowing that you're already busy with a guy. Eventually they'll know that I love you too, though, huh?"

Tenya IIda

"They're not a real couple."

"They might be. Look at them! They're such cuties."

"Iida is as straight-lace as they come, man. No way he'd get distracted by going on dates and making out with girls."

"I didn't say they do that stuff—I said they're a dignified couple! You're reducing them to a fling."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Well, I was actually talking to her! She says they don't get distracted while they study. Besides, girlfriend or not, Iida is way too much of a gentleman and a celibate robot to even think of trying stuff with a girl like her."

"Celibate robot... Kinda kinky, man. You can't think they're not doing anything besides studying. They're always holed up in their dorms or the library, and we never hear from them until they emerge like six hours later."

"They wouldn't do it in the library."

"I'd do it in the library."

"Gross!"

Kirishima and Mina, your oh-so-beloved classmates. You adore them. They're your friends after all! But they didn't know when and where to gossip, or how to properly read their environment.

Your secret boyfriend (he wanted to keep the relationship quiet for your own sake, and Mina and Kirishima had just proved why) had joined you in the common room a while ago with his books and papers and noise-cancelling headphones. Nothing but an indifferent nod to you to conceal things even if nobody was in the room.

You nodded back, then snuggled further up your blanket to continue watching the nature documentary on jellyfish mating rituals on TV. It'd just played, and you never bothered to change it. External fertilization in open water is very widespread, but jellyfish courting is very particular because they have courtship dances and specific reproductive rituals!

As you two went on in peace, him reviewing for a class, you caught up in jellyfish tango, eventually Mina and Kirishima entered the kitchenette near the living area, and apparently were under the impression that being just a few yards from you meant you two were out of earshot. And so they had their channel gossip about the state of your relationship and sex life with mechanized Tenya Iida that spiralled into a playful argument about the best places to hide on school grounds.

It was pertinent to say that, as uninteresting as the conversation went on to be, that Tenya's noise-cancelling headphones had died a long time ago. You saw the red light flash on them, signalling to the world that the battery was out, but he didn't bother to take them off. Additionally, you were laid back on the sofa, covered in your blanket, like you were supposedly asleep. But you weren't of course. And as Mina and Kirishima kept talking, Tenya turned to look at you, not betraying anything with his face, and he stared until you both heard the receding footsteps of your friends.

You were set to study in an hour. Tenya had made the date just that morning—after you'd woken up in his bed, and he served you an optimal breakfast.

---

Three rounds. Multiple orgasms. Fuck, you were tired and sweaty, and did you even look good anymore? Tenya smeared your mascara a long time ago.

Bedsheets tangled, tossed, gone to oblivion along with your clothes.

Where were your panties? Not on the floor with your pajamas—did Tenya take them?

Him atop of you, arms holding up his shaking, sweaty, muscled body as he filled you with the length of him over and over in a desperate, obsessive pace.

You braced yourself against the headboard with one hand, other hand sinking into the plush of the mattress as he drilled into you from behind. A few hours ago, he'd been quizzing you on evasive techniques and mathematics for what felt like head-inducing forever, then, a quiet pause after you answered a question, he said he wanted to move on to another subject before almost maiming you.

Your neck, chest, stomach, almost everywhere on your body was covered in dark bruises and sweet love bites Tenya would press a cold washcloth against later. Thank god you kept concealer in his room. His hands gripped your waist tightly for leverage, and you could already imagine the handprints he would leave there.

Eventually, the smack of skin against skin, your rising orgasm, slowed down as he breathlessly, almost frantically, said. "I wanna see you—"

His voice was broken, hoarse. He was a completely different person when he got to you. Glasses gone, hair in disarray, unable to focus on anything but you and the state you were in.

"What?" you asked, fuzzy. He'd stopped suddenly and was slowly pulling himself out of you. "Tenya? What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing. I just want to see you—no—" He grabbed you carefully and moved you in the way he liked when you tried to push him down. You thought he wanted you to ride him or something, but apparently not—because he was laying you on your back carefully, watching you with reverent breaths. He didn't do anything more until he stuck pillows under your head and hips, made sure ou were uncomfortable, then he went in to devour you with a kiss.

"I-I just wanted to see you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I couldn't take it anymore; I need to see your face. Felt like I was going crazy. God," he said against your lips, then straightened up, "I do treat you properly, right?"

Before you could even form a coherent answer, he was sliding into you again and rambling more. "They don't know anything. What could they know? We're together because I love you, because you're the most perfect girl... I wouldn't treat you like some damn fling in a library—fuck, I love you so much—"

Grabbing your hips, he settled into the new pattern of pushing into you before pulling out slowly and repeating, all while cooing at you and about how your face was so pretty when you were ready to come. He coaxed you to the same point at him, and calculating—god, actually calculating—and restraining himself, he tried to fill you up at the same time you reached a breaking point. You were a little early on your orgasm, and he was a minute or so late, but you were both equally spent regardless.

After a few minutes or simply staring at each other and catching your breath, he sprung into action. He cleaned your makeup off your face, retrieved water, and found a sweater of his for you to wear. Then he settled into bed with you, which you distinctly appreciated. In the earlier parts of your relationship, he used to just take care of you then try to go back to studying after sex, boxers hanging off his hips and marks from your nails on his back. It took some clarification and arguing to make him realize that you wanted him next to you after making love.

Tenya kissed your cheek and rubbed your hip as you two cooled down, him spooning you in bed. Already his typical methodicalness was returning. "I'm going to draw a bath and then make myself decent so that I can make us dinner. Or we can subsist off of a snack-dinner, or order takeout. Those options are up to you. What isn't up to you is drinking water and cleaning up properly, which I will help you with because I know you're tired."

"Ten..." you mumbled before letting out a little sigh.

"Yes, lovely?"

"You have to do the same stuff, you know."

"I know that."

"Okay." You smiled. "Good."

There was a momentary pause. Then he asked, "We are happy, right? You don't think I'm a celibate robot who's bad at relationships?"

That pulled a laugh out of you. You turned over and kissed him once, then said, "No. I love you. I think you're a great boyfriend, and I know we're keeping us hidden until we're comfortable with people knowing—I don't hate doing things like this, honey. Mina and Kirishima just like to be silly."

He pressed the lower half of his face into your hair, quiet for a moment before he spoke. "I love you too. You're right, I suppose. Those two should spend more time optimizing their quirks."

---

reqs are still open (any characters from jjk, kny, mha, resident evil, tsh) for anyone!!!

[riotsgrl]

★ ROUND 1! | bakugou, k.

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader

summary: a sparring session with kirishima gets a little out of hand, and being the only medic able to deal with katsuki bakugou, you’re left with the aftermath.

content: fluff + SMUT - mdni ! boxer!bkg + medic!reader. kiri feature! blood & injury. feelings!!! tension. lots of banter. clear consent. semi-public. making out. thigh riding. slight marking / hickeys. fondling. titty sucking. fingerfucking. cum eating. bkg does not get off but he is fine w that. there is a quite a bit of build up before the smut lol. wc: 5.2k.

note: #needthat

masterlist. | header art credit: @ ami_ranthao on tiktok !

In the ring, he came alive. An absolute powerhouse, brute force and flawless technique bleeding together to create Katsuki Bakugou, one of the best up and coming boxers of your time. Everyone was a little enamored— a perfect face paired with such a vulgar tongue, an ego backed with the skill to match.

His win-or-nothing attitude led him to the top, but also caused complications with his medical staff. A few too many outbursts had scared them into backing down, allowing him to keep pushing despite his injuries.

 Until you were hired a few months ago.

The first day you were assigned to him, the other medics had either snickered or grimaced, having each had their own share of bad luck with him. It seemed to be some rite of passage among them. When you met him, you understood exactly what the others had meant. There was enough fire behind that stare to send anyone skittering away.

But, to their surprise, you had returned back in one piece, with a perfectly bandaged Katsuki trailing behind you; glowering with something like an irritating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but tended to.

You were the only medic that could handle him.

Which is why you were spending your Saturday evening with your knees drawn to your chest on a bench at the edge of the boxing gym as he sparred with his close friend, and fellow boxer, Eijirou Kirishima.

The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.

Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.

You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.

But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.

It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.

"Fuck!"

The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.

Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.

"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"

Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.

"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"

He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."

His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."

"You deaf or something? Beat it."

More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.

Your job was to keep that from happening.

With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"You are gushing blood. Come on—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"

"Again, don't be dumb—"

Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.

"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."

Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.

You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.

It was just you two now.

Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.

You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.

"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"

He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.

You sighed.

"Right before I get off too..."

"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."

"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."

Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."

You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.

A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.

You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.

“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”

“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”

“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”

“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."

The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.

His eyes never left you.

Sometimes, you wondered why.

Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.

"Bleeding stopped."

He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.

When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.

"I was going for his blind spot."

Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.

But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.

His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.

“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.

"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."

He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.

"Knew you were starin'."

Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.

"Well, that is my job."

"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."

You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.

"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."

"You think you're so funny."

"I think your ego's inflated."

"Wanna say that again?"

You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.

"Save it, Katsuki."

You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.

Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.

It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his oppenents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.

You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."

He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.

"You don't want that."

The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.

What did you want? The question made you uneasy.

(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)

You pushed back slightly, deflecting.

“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”

“No it's not.”

It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.

"Don't play dumb right now."

“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.

"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”

"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."

You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.

You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.

The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.

“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”

The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.

Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.

He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.

But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.

(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)

You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.

"Some…someone could—"

"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.

"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"

"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "

You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.

"Katsuki. I was joking."

He hummed.

(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)

"Sure you were."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The defelctions that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.

You sighed, next words defeated.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”

“Katsuki…”

It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.

For what— to let you go?

(To keep going?)

He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”

And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened. 

For you, he was being intentionally careful.

Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.

"There are rules about this sort of thing—"

"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"

"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"

You swallowed back the rest of it.

He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.

Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.

"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."

You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."

He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.

(You're the one I see. You.)

His earlier words rang in your ears.

Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it

You couldn't, because you had.

Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.

He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.

(Him. You imagined him.)

Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.

But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.

Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.

Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.

“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."

Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)

"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Yes."

His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.

The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.

Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.

He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.

You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He groaned, "Fuck it."

You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.

Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.

Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.

"Feel good?"

Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.

You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.

His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.

Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.

Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.

He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.

You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.

Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.

You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.

Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.

This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.

He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.

But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.

The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."

He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.

You nodded, a little frantic.

"Off. Please."

He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.

His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.

You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.

You glanced down at your shirt.

"This too."

He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."

His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.

For a beat too long, he just stared.

On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.

"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.

You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.

You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.

Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.

Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.

"All this from just my thigh?"

There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."

He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satsfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.

"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."

He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, coating them before circling your entrance.

"I can show you mean."

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."

He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.

He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.

"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"

You nodded frantically, beyond words.

The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.

"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"

You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.

Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.

You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.

You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"

You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.

“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”

You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"

He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.

He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.

"Look at me."

It didn't sound like a request.

"Hm?"

You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.

He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.

When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.

"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.

You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.

"You're shameless."

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."

Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.

He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarassed. Shit was hot."

"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."

Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.

"Much better than good."

He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.

That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?

He didn't cum.

"Hey, wait you didn't—"

He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.

"Does it look like I care."

His dismissal of his own need threw you off.

"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"

"Sure you can. You just did."

You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.

You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.

You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"

He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.

"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."

You blinked. Fuck.

"…I can be quick?"

That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.

He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.

"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."

The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.

You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.

"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."

may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️

big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️‍🩹

again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!

taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :

masterlist ★ taglist form ★ want to send in a request?

[bfbkg]

thoughts on gym instructor! bakugo?

okay you sent this during my gym phase, i was literally on the way to the gym and in my gym class i kept getting distracted thinking about this…..

i’m gonna give a bunch on random thoughts. IM THINKING gym instructor bakugou who has expensive ass rates because EVERYONE sees results with him. also he’s FINE AS HELL so people want to work with him, just his face and thighs are extra motivation. he’s got his business card and his go to phrase is something like “if you want someone who says it how it is.” “short term pain for long term results.”

and his emails are full with people who wanna work with him. saying how they wanna get an ass, wanna get their dream body, wanna get stronger. a few hookup messages… he gets so many offers he picks and chooses who he wants to work with and defo says no to a few people after the first session. women that are clearly there to flirt and not work out. men who don’t have their heart in it.

i like to imagine you only started going to the gym because it’s a company perk. free membership with your work so you end up going and SINCE it’s free, you could maybe pay for a gym instructor. scanning the wall with the faces of all instructors and bakugou’s got his gorgeous little profile picture of him frowning with his arms crossed, it’s his tag line that get you. “tough love.” you need that. sure you like a little bit of yoga maybe some walking or jogging. but you’re not about to push yourself on your own.

so your email to bakugou is short and sweet. something about needing real life motivation and help on technique. also you want to get stronger. then lastly you wouldn’t mind building your ass.

bakugou likes the honesty, reads the email with an upside down lipped impressed look.

(also it’s a big thing where i live anyway that men don’t trust women with personal trainers because they’re known to have affairs with them??) anyway bakugou is sooo professional, hence the cutting it off when there’s a hint of flirtation.

but meeting you in your big tshirt, trainers and leggings. hand out to shake his hand. ooooweeeee. he’s already thinking about what he’s going to say in the email that he won’t be continuing with you any longer because this time he’s attracted to you. he’s not working with a hard on while you do some basic squats or listening to you groan when he forces you to lift a heavy weight.

you find him attractive too. the picture is nothing on him irl. the frown imprinted on his features. his arms crossed with these bulging biceps and thick veins on his forearms. he’s tall, over six foot and in a tight black tee and black shorts. black socks and black trainers. even his hair is pretty, blonde and fluffy, thick dark eyelashes. you think about how he’d hug you… not that he would. maybe how he’d touch your back when putting you in place… in the gym!

anyway you basically recite your email to him. you mention how you wanna get stronger, feel better physically in your body, he nods, tells you in a deep growl that he can do that. then you mention how you don’t mind having a fatter ass, a thing he’s heard before, bare in mind, but he bites down on his bottom lip. your pretty little face, chatting, swinging your water bottle by your side. he wants to flick his eyes down to your ass. see what he’s working with here. luckily your tshirt is big enough that he can’t see it.

but he does say, “it’s better if you wear tighter clothes. then we can see what muscles you’re workin and any gains….,” then he frowns to himself, he’d say this to a guy right… he would!! “if you’re comfortable.”

and you’re smiling up at him, excited, funny that you’re not going to be so excited a few weeks in bakugou’s little boot camp.

“yes sure!”

“then i can make anythin’ happen.”

you mention how you don’t want to get shouted at. he adapts to make his language FIRM!!! still swears though. “you have somewhere to be after? go slower! feel the burn in your calves.”

“three more!” “you said ten!” “and i know you can do three more reps. now.”

- quick fire. bakugou shares no personal information about himself. you defo ask him a few questions. if he grew up around here, if he lives far, what got him into training people. and you either get one word or “stop fuckin’ around. you’re not gonna get a fat ass askin’ about my childhood.”

that makes you pout.

he’s lowkey a little nicer to you than his other clients but still harsh LOL making you do pull ups on one of the machines and you can’t move because the weight is too heavy.

“cmon. pull.”

and the thing about working with an attractive man (especially in the early days) is you don’t want to look ugly in front of him. something you have to get over quickly. causes him to slip up sometimes too.

“i can’t! it’s too heavy!”

“you lifted less than this yesterday. you can pull it up. go on.”

you know your face is gonna scrunch up, evil frown, sweaty forehead, scrunch of your nose, maybe a squeak.

“fuck.” from you, makes bakugou have to blink twice. standing next to the machine and you on it with his arms folded.

“the quicker you do it, the quicker we both can go the fuck home.” he learns very quickly with you that he can’t say anything about himself because now you’re distracted. looking over him.

“what’s your plans after?”

he rolls his eyes, “grab the fuckin bar and pull. wastin both of our time.”

then you start trying.

- few weeks in, you guys get to texting. mostly just you saying whether you’re running late due to traffic. once you sent him a video of you working out at home, asking him to correct you on your form. another time you sent him a before and after photos. has bakugou staring at this whatsapp message for a while. fuck…. not professional. he’s got friends that’s got with clients, he never has though. he knows you would with him, he’s seen the way you’re curious and how you look at him through the mirror when you think he’s not looking.

short grammatically correct texts is all he does.

- he gives you a meal plan and he HATES how his body gets softer when you start whining that he’s cut out all your favourite foods.

loves when you’re a little stubborn and standing your ground. “i’m sorry but i need some joy in my life. i’d be happier eating what i want and seeing no physical changes.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows at you. usually he’d cuss a little, say what’s the point of hiring him if you’re not willing to change. you’re not gonna be better than your yesterday if your future is the same. he’s got all his quotes stored.

instead he kisses his teeth. tuts under his breath. he could put more fruit in, add in protein powder. less kale. okay a chicken nugget caesar salad isn’t too bad.

“you’re too fuckin’ picky. i’ll see what i can do.”

also cute that when he does start crushing on you properly, he brings you these colourful electrolyte drinks to try. says he got a load at this convention he went to, which is true but he’s not giving any of his other clients a bottle. continues to buy you your favourite flavour even afterwards before every session.

- him putting you in position but hovers his hand over your body. never touches you. has you mention one time “you can touch me. just put me into place.” has you going home thinking about his hands on your body. how big his palm was on the back of your thigh. the heat of his chest against yours. wants you to practice your balance and he’s got a hand on your thigh and your arm. wants you to stretch your pelvic muscles because you’re complaining you feel too much tension in your legs.

has you on your knees, face down, arms out, legs spread and ass up.

regrets it as soon as he puts you in the position. “ohhhh,” a satsified burn, “this feels good.”

since your eyes are closed he does gaze at your ass. to this day he doesn’t understand how you were saying you want it bigger when it’s already a lovely size. it’s not about him though. he can also see your pussy lips from this angle and he’s grateful he’s got his tight compression shorts on under his shorts.

“yeah, yeah. we get it.”

he knows you’d sound like this during sex. fuck, even louder if he was in bed with you.

- you bother him asking if he uses steroids. ragebaiting. he gives in every time.

“shut the hell up. you think i look like this from ‘roids?” jabs his thumb in the centre of his chest.

then you stay giggling.

- you knowing he talks his partners through it in bed. has you on the bench lifting weights, something you were intimidated by because that area is concentrated with MEN. feels better walking into that area behind him.

“gonna start light and go up from there. 12 reps. 30 second break. 3 sets.”

“that sounds like a lot katsuki.”

“don’t be a baby.”

and he’s behind you the entire time, hands under the bar even though you don’t need it.

“two more. push through it. imagine how you’ll feel after.”

“slower… another. fuckin’ lift it. cmon now.”

and it’s always you sweaty and tired smiling up at him. “wow that’s my pb!!!!

gets bakugou like JELLY.

- ends up saying all iterations of “good girl.” “you’re a star.” “attagirl.” when you do a clean set of reps he says “gorgeous.” and you feel your panties soak.

- also you start ditching the baggy t-shirts and start getting matching co ord gym sets. pink ones, cream ones, black ones, blue ones, any colour under the sun. all your favourites. bakugou’s favourite colour is changing daily. you see him checking you out for the first minute of every session. you appear out of the fitting room or you rush into the building with your laptop still in your bag and he’s looking at you up and down. he loves them. they’re tight and lift everything. has him pointing at your tight arm cardigan things like “what’s the point of that?” you shrug, “it’s cute.” and you do… you look so cute.

- defo you asking for an example and he’s laying back on the bench to show you how to lift a weight. he shows you using the bar, “it’s gotta go down to the top of your chest, then you bounce it off. easy shit.” the weight isn’t heavy for him but you’re still staring at his biceps in his tight vest. he only wears black white and navy. “how much can you lift?” and he sits up. “it’s not about me. how much can you lift?” and you frown, “you can tell me that! gives me something to aim for!” and you nudge his shoulder playfully. he likes you a lot. he’s also so stupidly pretty laying back on the bench and he’s blushing now because he’s looking up at you hovering over him. “like 200kg?” he knows exactly how much he can weigh. you’re gasping, nobody around you is lifting that much. “can i see? please?”

and he does show you, even though it’s cutting into your workout time. at the end of the day, he’s not against showing off around you.“you just wanna get out of liftin’. i’m doing one rep and it’s your turn.” “yeah whatever.”

you watch as he piles weight after weight on the bar. the he lays back and lifts. it’s arouses you to the point you’re lightheaded. his groans, his frown. the muscles that bulge in his arms and thighs. the vein in his neck and forehead. he lifts the bar with slight ease, once it’s up, he’s got it moving up and down with quick precise movements.

“oh wow… you’re so strong, katsuki.”

he cannot pay attention for shit. especially because you’re all he sees when he looks up. he does one less rep than he said.

“hey you didn’t do you last one! better than yesterday you or something!”

he drops it in the placeholder, sits up on the bench slouched. “it’s not my gym session, it’s yours. get your ass on the bench.”

just big and fine.

- you text him complaining that your body aches and if he’s got any recommendations to help. he says his friend has a membership at a gym that’s got a sauna so he takes you there. lowkey feels like a date.

he gets to see you all relaxed and sweaty with just a towel on and you see him shiny and golden and bare chested. this idea could be a whole fic so i’m holding off for now.

- he’s got you doing a whole session with the purpose to grow your glutes and ass and the whole time you’re grumbling. “i could just get a bbl. this is hard.” it’s a joke! but he sighs, “one more rep ‘cause of that stupid comment.”

- when his crush is too big to contain, one time you’re saying how you’re starving hungry and he says there’s a good ramen place nearby. says you should go. you take that to assume you solo. so when you come out of the changing room either your bag and jacket, he’s still standing there, phone in hand.

“did you forget something?”

“we’re gettin’ food? aren’t we?”

your smile fills your whole face, “oh! yes! yes we are.”

[bfbkg]

stepping into bed bedside bakugou and he’s planning on romancing you a little because he’s just a little horny and this has been his plan all evening but when he rolls over to face you, you’ve got that overnight thick white jelly like facial skincare mask on. he cannot makeout with you. he can barely kiss you and you see his whole face just drop.

you going “what!? did you want me to get you one?”

and he’s huffing and puffing that his plan to wait didn’t even work. he can’t kiss your neck because it will mess up your mask. he loves kissing your cheeks.

“wanted to kiss you.” he grumbles. shirtless, laying on his side, looking at your body in your camisole and pyjama shorts. he can still work around your face. sadly.

“awe,” you squeak and you pout your lips for him to kiss.

he shakes his head like he doesn’t deserve this treatment but does carefully kiss you so he doesn’t mess up your mask.

bkg ends up making out with your breasts and kissing down your legs to eat you out. then you give him a quick handjob and he’s cuddling you with his head on your breasts. face mask still in tact, he’s the clingy one here.

[katsukix1pyro]

GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT KATSUKI BAKUGO 💥💥💥💥💥💥

[chibi-tokki]

drunk walk home - katsuki tags: fem!reader, friends to lovers, angst sorta, fluff, honey is a replacement for y/n, smoking, drinking ig w/c: 8.6k a/n: reupload of an old katsuki fic, idk im tired and i just needed this out of my drafts enjoy x

Nylon digs into your shoulder with surgical precision, the plastic determined to saw your arm from your body with each swing and bump against your hip. The dredging had started two minutes into the fifteen it took to reach the bus stop and would continue through the five it took to walk home. Your breath curls in the night sky, the sunny autumn days making way for colder nights that have you dreading the coming of winter if the single-digit temperatures of late October are any indication of the future forecast. You miss summer, miss the long days and short nights where even if you wanted to walk home closer to midnight than eight pm, there would still be people out enjoying the warmth even as the sun set. It's too cold now and too late to be walking home alone, but the price of a taxi is not one you can afford. You had already made the difficult to decision to get lunch instead of topping up your travel card (a decision you will hopefully be able to weasel your way out of with a few fake tears thrown at the bus driver who will feel enough pity for you, he’ll let you ride for free) It’s not as if you’re bad with money, its just that your job is underpaid, your rent overpriced and with finals coming up, you had to take less of those underpaid shifts in turn for passing the classes that took a reasonable chunk of your cheque to pay off. Most weeks, you never see the measly amount that is deposited into your account, too quickly taken out by bills and whatnot, and when you do look, you’re lucky if there’s anything left. 

The phone in your pocket buzzes, and you hope it's not a text from your provider, reminding you of the upcoming bill. 

The grind truly never stops. 

It buzzes again. You should fish it out and see who it was, to check that it isn’t your mother or your boss or someone important enough to text so late. It’s the third and last buzz that has you pulling it from your pocket, the screen too bright for the late hour. 

Can’t pick u up, sorry babe. Busy. Gym. 

The name of your situatuionship blinks at you with an answer to a question you had asked when the sun was still up. A desperate plea sent out into the ether in hopes that he liked you enough to make that ten-minute drive and make your life a thousand times easier. 

The screen flashes again. 

Actually can u come over now? 

Black fills the screen, the text disappearing with it. Blood that had once been boiling as you raced up the hill to the bus turns to ice, your stomach hollowing out as you wake the phone once again, thumb hovering to open the chat.  You should tell him to fuck off, to go to the depths of hell, block your number and never, ever, text you again. You should tell him that he is a pathetic man child with nothing to offer other than muscles and a semi decent dick, that he makes your insides turn over themselves whenever you think of him, but that last part isn’t true and the first part is enough to keep you around, so instead you opt to ignore, to slide the phone into the hidden compartment of your bag and trade it for the packet of strawberry menthol cigarettes you kept on hand for emergencies. (emergencies being one too many shots at the bar, a rough shift, or anything that required you to not think for a moment) The filter slides between your lips as you fumble around for a lighter.

“Hey, do you need a ride?" 

A man’s voice has you pausing your search.

A black sedan idles at the curb meters from you, the engine a smooth hum in the quiet night. It’s not a car you recognise.

You turn away from the road, teeth biting down harder on the soft cotton, fear beginning to prick the back of your neck as another muffled shout is hurled at you. 

Why now? Why you?

After the fuckass shift you had just had, covered in god knows what and sweating beyond belief, why do you have to deal with a man? Why is there a man mere meters from you, desperately trying to get your attention? You know why, there is no other reason but for one second, one measly second, you wish the universe would grant you a break. A huffed breath leaves through your nose as you begin to walk away, pace quicker. You know basic self-defence, having been taught all those years ago alongside your classmates, but it has been well over half a decade since you could recall any intricate moves beyond a quick punch and escape. 

Another shout, this time louder and wholly recognisable. 

"Hey, dumbass, it’s me." 

Your feet freeze at the voice. 

"Bakugou?" His name is muffled around the cigarette hanging from your lips. 

You squint against the overhead light, hand coming up to shield the glare to get a better look. The prohero sits in his car, forearm propped against the console as he leans over to the passenger side. It had been years since you had last spoken to him, something long ago at your high school graduation, and sure, you both go to the same university, and your friend groups are a Venn diagram; the chances to speak to him are very far and few between. He never comes to parties, and when he does, he’s gone by the time you muster up enough courage to say hey, on campus he’s always busy with Midoriya or Kirishima. One time, you were behind him at the corner store late at night, and you could have said hi, struck up a conversation there and then, but you were a little plastered and decided against making a fool of yourself. 

Your stranger scoffs. "Who else would it be?”

“Some crazed killer trying to lure me into his car!?” you shout, voice pitching up an octave as your heart begins to race for another reason. The cigarette is pulled from your teeth, balanced between two fingers. “You can’t just pull up to a girl on the street and scream at them!" 

"You think I’m trying to lure you into my car and kill you?” Bakugou sighs, exasperated at a situation that is entirely his doing. 

“How was I to know it was you? I don’t know your car.” 

“Well, now you know it’s me. Do you need a ride?” he repeats, tone bordering on irritation. 

You shake your head. “I  have a bus in five minutes.” You look down at your phone. 

Technically, eight minutes. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I'm going home.” You answer plainly, hoping your idiocy is enough to deter him. You know, stupid people piss him off, so why not play the part to get what you want? 

“Where is home, idiot?” Bakugou comes to a stop, the crank of the handbrake pulling up as he parks. 

God, he is persistent. At any other point in time, you would have jumped at the chance to spend a few minutes alone with Bakugou Katsuki. The man is a god amongst your peers, with a physique and a complex to match, but you are in no state to impress, especially not in your stained, smelly uniform. 

“I’m catching a bus; I promise I am okay!” You attempt to shoo him away, bus card held high in the air, but it does nothing to deter him.

“I’m not letting you catch a bus this late at night; get in the car." 

"No, Bakugou, I’m fine! I live too far from here, and there’s a bus in five minutes!”

“Get in.” Katsuki commands, reaching over the console to open the passenger door.  

“No, please, I’m-”

 He rolls his eyes at your protest.

“Get in the car, or I’ll put you in myself." 

Your breath leaves you in a jagged exhale at the thought of Katsuki manhandling you. It shouldn’t stir up as much as it does, heat blooming low in your gut and head swimming slightly as blood rushes to your cheeks. Sure, he is hot, so fucking hot, but he’s leagues above you in everything, so even if you sit in his car all stained and stinky, you aren’t really risking anything, right? 

You weigh up the outcomes of the chances of waiting him out long enough to sprint for the bus and hopefully never see him in the halls on campus, but from what you know, from what you remember of your friendship in high school, he is a determined individual and will probably follow you bus home or some other bullshit idea. 

A car door swings open. 

Glancing up, you find Katsuki standing and waiting on his side of the car. Jaw clenched and eyes blazing with very clear frustration, you watch as he drapes his arm over the door frame. Jesus Christ, he is hot. 

"In. Now.” he points at you, ringed fingers glinting in the low light. 

You bite the inside of your lip, metal filling your mouth. If anyone else had demanded something of you in the way he just did, you would have walked away, finger held high as you shouted obscenities, there is no world nor universe in which you allow a man to tell you what to do, except maybe this one, where the man yelling at you is less of a man and more of a mythical being who had plagues your thoughts every now again. It isn’t a crush. A crush implies you have emotional feelings towards him, think about him, want to date him; what you have is a bit more complicated. Childhood crush coupled with adult attraction turned the yearning into a sad, horny, unrequited mess that you do not deal with until you dream about him or see him or talk to him, and then you're just left sad, angry and really turned on. 

“Honey..” Katsuki drawls, pulling your attention once again. 

“Can I at least give you money for the trip?” you begin to bargain, fingers reaching for the small wallet hidden in your bag. 

His face crinkles in disgust, lip curling back ever so slightly as he shakes his head and grunts out his answer. 

“Just get in.”

A deep breath has you calming your thundering heart. The car is nice. All black leather interior and spotless. Not a speck of dust or dirt on the floor or dash, the only things indicating it isn’t a rental being the Allmight freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. You slide along the seat, carefully placing your bag at your feet so as not to get any of your work grime on the pristine floor mats. The unlit cigarette was shoved hastily into the front compartment, and you hope to god it would not crumble and spill out. 

“What are you doing?” Katsuki’s voice has you startling slightly, fingers twining with each other.  

“Sitting?” You look down at yourself. Sure, it may not be the most comfortable position sitting on the edge of the leather, but at least the car would be clean when you leave.

“Like a freak,” he scowls, eyes sliding to you for a second before his attention shifts back to the road. “Can you relax, please. I haven’t kidnapped you.”

With a shaky exhale, you attempt to release the tension in your shoulders, shuffling your hips in your seat in a show of adjusting your posture. When you finally settle and look back at your driver, you find him already staring at you, left eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Better?” you offer, hands splayed out palms up. 

“Much. Now you’re not gonna look like I've abducted you if we get pulled over.” Katsuki huffs a laugh as he flicks on the turn signal. You watch him turn back to look over his shoulder, checking for a clear moment to merge out. 

“Are you planning on getting pulled over?” You also check the rear window, a habit developed long ago from your mother. 

“If.”  Bakugou turns back to you and reiterates with a hiss. “Do you hear every second word, damn.” 

“I do actually. It’s a quirk of mine. Can’t believe you’d point it out like that as if it’s inferior to yours.” You’re quick to reciprocate the jab, crossing your arms over your chest, the faux offence obnoxiously obvious. 

Katsuki actually laughs at that. Short and clipped, but a laugh nonetheless. 

“You haven’t changed.” his tone shifts, softer than before, as his attention returns to the traffic. 

‘What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You watch as he strains his neck, the muscles in his arms and shoulders pulling with each stretch.  

“You’re still the same annoying smart ass you were in high school.” 

He pulls out into the gap, the motion effortless and smooth. 

He remembers you? Sure, High school ended a few years ago, but you two hadn’t been close friends since grade ten, nine even. Before you had decided to use your quirk as a medic rather than a hero, life had pulled you in different directions. It had to have been ten plus years since you had a meaningful conversation, so for him to remember you. Your heart tugs at that. 

“Aww, you remember me?” Sincerity turns into sarcasm in the form of self-defence. If you are not vulnerable, you cannot be hurt. 

“Yeah, we were friends. Why wouldn’t I remember you?”  ” Katsuki turns his gaze to yours, vermillion eyes catching yours, and for a brief moment, you think you see the slightest hint of affection before he blinks and it’s gone.  

You shrug, lips tilting up in a smirk. “I don't know, Big man Bakugou, you know. Meets a lotta’ people”

“Never call me that again.” He snorts. 

“I’d always remember you.”

The confession comes out quieter in an attempt to slip between the beats of the radio and the purr of the engine, and for a moment, you think you might have imagined it had it not been for the slight shift in his posture. The minute tightening of his arms, back aligning a hair’s width straighter, fingers clenching the wheel, all minor movements but enough to tip you off to the sudden change in mood, and you’re about to say something, to make the slight awkwardness he is feeling a little better with something just as heartfelt, but you are interrupted by him clearing his throat. 

“Gimmie your address, I don’t know where I’m going.” 

Right. Yes.

You flip your phone over, quickly opening up the navigation app as you morph into your role as navigation officer, but Katsuki is stopping you with an annoyed tsk.

“Just put it on my phone; I can’t handle people telling me directions. I need to see it.” His phone is shoved in your lap before you can register her has even moved, the code to his screen shared in a single breath.

You stare at the simple black case. 

Katsuki repeats the code in case you hadn’t heard him or he had spoken too fast, but even after the numbers are repeated, you don’t make a move. Not out of fear or anything sinister, but at the embarrassment and awkwardness that had flooded your body the second Bakugou had handed you the phone. He, a man you had not said more than three words to in years, had oh so casually given you the passcode and free rein of his phone. There had been no apprehension when he had tossed the device, no stuttering over bullshit excuses or frantic attempts to hide evidence, just unrestricted access. It’s a painful reminder that the men in your dating life are cheating, lying losers.  Your stomach sinks, hurt beginning to gnaw at your gut, the tension in your jaw keeping the frown away as you hurriedly punch in the code, the screen lighting up with a picture of him and his friends as his home screen.  

It had to have been taken years ago, judging by the length of Kirishima’s hair. You had been a part of that group once, would have slipped between Denki and Mina to smile for the photo, but life doesn’t always work out, and you never would have made it as a hero, your quirk far better utilised as support. Your chest aches for a different reason now, but you’re quick to type in the address and replace the phone on its perch next to the steering wheel. 

A heavy silence fills the car, neither of you knowing how to start a conversation. You should thank him again or ask about his life, strike up a meaningless conversation about his work, how different being a pro is to training but each time you think you’re ready to speak, your brain fizzles and the words die on your tongue. 

Bakugou’s shaky inhale pulls your attention.  

"Did you-” Katsuki clears his throat before continuing. “ Do you not have- I uh- thought, maybe, shouldn’t your boyfriend be picking you up?” he stutters through the sentence, words and voice failing him too many times for it to be casual. 

The stammering is incredibly out of character. 

“What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” Your query has you narrowing your eyes at your driver. 

Where had he gathered this information?  

“The guy? The other week at Denki’s?” 

Oh. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Your skin begins to tingle with nervous energy.

“You guys break up?” 

Your fingers twitch, the synapses in your brain firing at the mention of your long-term, low-commitment casual boyfriend. For a moment, you had forgotten about the absolute prick in your phone, his texts long swiped away. For a second, you were no longer just a body to be used and discarded, but someone of memory, or value, worthy of sentiment and kindness and not just a pat on the head and kiss on the cheek as he leaves. There was no hand on your thigh or at the back of your neck, pushing your head down as he drives, because he just can’t wait to get home. You were just a friend, sitting beside another friend, talking and laughing, a human beyond your body. 

“Nope. We weren’t, well, aren’t, dating.” 

“Aren’t?” Katsuki presses, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “As in you are still seeing him?”

A frown pulls at the corner of your lips. “Yeah.” 

Bakugou huffs a breath out, eyes flitting over to you for a quick second before returning to the road, but in that moment, you are sure you see pity simmering beyond the hard boredom he schools his expression in.

“I’m fine, it’s a mutual thing. I knew what I was getting into when we started, and it works, you know? We both have needs, but he doesn’t have the time, so it’s beneficial.”

Katsuki laughs through his nose, mouth pulling into a sardonic smile. 

“You tryna convince me or yourself there?” 

You can’t help the huffed laugh that frees itself from your chest. 

“Both, I think.” 

Bakugou hums. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, bottom lip caught between his teeth in an attempt to stop a smirk. 

“Bakugou, what is it?” You press on, turning in your seat towards your driver. “If you have something to say, go ahead. You’re not the first and most definitely won’t be the last.”

Another shake of his head. The muscles in his jaw flutter as his smile falls.

“Since when are you someone who holds back on sharing your thoughts?” You nudge him with a soft shove to his bicep. The muscle doesn’t move against your assault. 

You shouldn’t be pushing, you should know better with his track record of being able to verbally eviscerate someone with a single sentence, but something pushes you further. Maybe it’s the self-destructive nature of wanting to ruin any pleasant moment with a man, so there would truly be only one option: to keep your standards low and nonexistent so that there would be no questioning of your decisions, your own self-preservation, not wanting to look back on your own shitty actions that have led you to this moment, your own inability to admit defeat. Or maybe you push because part of you, that small desperate part that is wishing Katsuki would turn around and confess to feelings he’d been hiding for years, that he had been there this whole time, and your self-imposed suffering was worth something beyond mediocre sex. 

“I don’t think I like this quiet version.” The laugh is hollow as you turn back towards the road, arms crossing over your chest. “Who are you and what have you done with Bakugou?”

 It is a joke, a jab intended to make him laugh along with you, but it does the complete opposite. 

“Me?” Bakugou turns his full attention to you, vermillion eyes seething as he spits. “Who are you?”

His voice rises, tone inching on disappointment as he continues. “What the fuck happened to you? Where’s the girl I knew who didn’t take shit from anyone and who sure as hell wouldn’t be someone’s casual fuck.” 

‘Baku-”

A lump forms in your throat, mouth curving into a frown at his disapproving tone. It is completely involuntary, a response hardwired in your brain from a young age. It’s half the reason you left your hero dreams behind. You’ve never been able to handle disappointing people, falling below their expectations, or not reaching the goals set before you that others did with ease. Plus, anytime someone raised their voice, you got a little teary. 

“You wouldn’t even give me the time of day, and now you’re slumming with Mr. long-term casual whatever-the-fuck?” Katsuki turns his attention back, having stared at you for far too long. 

“It’s diff-” you begin, but are cut off by his bitter laugh. 

“I swear to god if you say it’s different, I'm dropping you off here.” It is posed as a joke, a sinister laugh in his voice, but he slows the car down nonetheless. 

“Bakugou.” Your voice wavers, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you're quick to blink them back, not willing to give him the satisfaction of you crying. 

“Is that why you’re smoking. Does he smoke? Do you know how bad that is for you?” He continues, a hand pointing at your bag with your hidden cigarettes. 

“I don’t smoke!” tension continues to grow in your chest, constricting your ribs with each inhale. 

“Oh, really? Then what was that in your mouth when I picked you up, huh? You’re a nurse, you should know better,” he huffs and shakes his head. 

This throws you for a loop, the tears stilling in your eyes. 

“How do you know I’m a nurse?” 

“You’re in scrubs and walking back from the hospital, doesn’t take a lot to put that together. Don’t try to change the subject, we're talking about you, and you’re terrible life choices.” 

Your jaw clenches, teeth grinding against each other as you take in a long breath, glaring at your driver with as much faux annoyance as you can hold in your stare because even as he's berating you, disappointment in his every word, you can’t stop the warmth that blooms in your stomach. This has to be some sick kind of kink because you should be offended and angry, but instead you feel your cheeks warming and your heart racing. 

“I take it all back. You’re the same asshole you were when we were kids.” 

Katsuki laughs, actually laughs at you as you pout. The tension warps from anger into something less, irritation and maybe something a little familiar. 

“Why are you laughing?” Arms cross over your chest. “You were just yelling at me, you think that doesn’t make you an asshole?”

He keeps laughing, dazzling perfect teeth on display as he smiles. Lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and despite never seeing the wrinkles, you know they are deep and engraved in his skin from years of secret smiles and laughter. You hadn’t seen him smile in years, nothing like the persona he wore for the news and his classmates, nothing like the perfect pro hero, but it’s nice, normal. Makes him seem less like a godlike figure and more like the twenty-six-year-old sitting before you. 

“I’m fully aware I'm an asshole, trust me, I've been told, but that was not yelling; if anything, I think it was a well overdue lecture from an old friend.” 

“We’re not friends.” you pout, pointing a finger at him in indignation. 

“I said, old friend, dummy.” Katsuki turns to you, flicking your forehead lightly to accentuate his point. “Try listening more, yeah? Make a little room in that pretty head, might hear more of what I say.”

Your face heats as you register the backhanded compliment. 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

He rolls his eyes, and you swear you see a hint of a blush on the tips of his ears. “That you hear perfectly.” 

---

 "Lemme give you my number in case you need a ride again.“ Katsuki requests as he parks in front of your apartment block. 

The car idles with a quiet purr. You don’t want to leave, the air warm and smelling of caramel, and who knows when you’ll get a moment alone with him again. 

You shake your head, afraid that if you swap numbers, you’ll be waiting for him to call, and you already have enough disappointment in your love life; you don’t need this. 

"Please, I won’t bother you with weird texts, but if you need'a ride, please text me.” He pushes, holding his phone out to you. 

Apprehension bites at your gut, taking big chunks out of your insides and filling the space that is created, but you concede and grab the mobile, quickly filling out your contact info before handing yours over to him. 

“I won’t ever call you, but I know you don’t take no for an answer.”

“I only heard the beginning of that sentence, but I'm pretty sure it ended with ‘I'll call you when I work late and need to get home."

“Who’s the one with the hearing problem now, huh?” You begin to collect your things, keys adorned with too many keyrings jingling in the quiet. 

“Thank you again for driving me home even though it’s so far for you.”

"You know where I live?” he raises a brow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“No!” you shout your correction, but adjust the volume as you clarify your earlier statement. “I mean, I know Kiri lives around here, and he always complains that you live so far away." 

Katsuki pouts. "I was hoping you were gonna admit to stalking me." 

Blood rushes to your cheeks again, the heat never having left, but somehow you continue to get hotter as he grins at you. 

“You’ve got enough fangirls for that, not gonna add to the hoard.” Your fingers curl around the door handle. “Thank you again, Bakugou.” 

“You’re very welcome, Honey.” Bakugou’s smile falters for a second as his jaw ticks, lines pulling into a tight line. “Now get inside; I wanna go home." 

You follow the directions without hesitation, eager to get out of the autumn cold and only when you are safe and warm behind your apartment door do you eagerly check your phone and see the text waiting there. 

Call me if you need to go anywhere. Don’t be stupid.

---

It had been a week since Bakugou had driven you home. Seven days since he had last seen you, but it had been three since your last text (not that katsuki is counting), it had been your only other text aside from your reply to his first one. 

you coming to denki’s this friday?

He hadn’t even known his friend was throwing a party. 

No. I’ve got training. 

Your reply came back a few seconds later. 

Aww :( sad

Was gonna buy you a drink as a thank you.

Well, make you one.

Do you even drink? Sorry for the quadruple text

Katsuki laughed at your stream of thought texts. 

It’s okay. 

He had aimed to write more, to try and further a conversation but he had been swept away with hero duties and by the time he had gotten back to his personal phone, it had been hours and he didn’t want to seem deseperate so he left it, let it sit and hoped you would message back, check on last time if he was going or maybe even ask if he wanted to tag along with you, but nothing came. 

That was three days ago. 

Now, you sit across from Bakugou on the curb of some random street, in a dress far too short for the cold weather, shaking and sniffling as you huddle in on yourself. 

He had been on his way home from the gym when he spotted a figure, hunched over themselves on the edge of the street. The hero hadn’t known it was you when he stopped; he just stopped because what kind of person is he if he drove past a woman sitting in the gutter? But as he shouts at you from within his car, he realises who you are. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” he pulls up the park brake. “I gave you my number for this exact reason!”

You look up from your feet, hand shielding your eyes from the street light above. 

“Bakugou?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“Yes, we’ve done this bit before now, why are you outside!?”

Katsuki throws open his door, one foot on the asphalt, before he turns back to his passenger seat, eyes scanning for any form of clothing to throw over you, and when he comes up empty, he opts to shed his jumper to give to you. 

“Why are you in the street?” his tone gruff.

“I thought maybe I could walk home, but then my feet started hurting and I-”

“So you decided to sit on the curb like a homeless person instead of texting me to come pick you up?” Katsuki interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive and a tad hurt that you didn’t take him up on his offer.

“I thought about it, but I didn’t wanna be annoying,” you mumble, red tinting your cheeks, and he doesn’t know if it's the cold or embarrassment that colours your skin.

“Sure,” the snide comment comes out without his permission, and it has your bottom lip jutting out. 

“You want proof?” You slur, tapping messily on your screen before holding it out to him, the chats between the two of you up and in that small text box right at the bottom are those three words. 

I need you. 

It causes something in his stomach to stir. 

“See, told ya. Just didn’t wanna be a bother.” 

Katuski catches the contact name.

Bakugou. Pro hero.

Not Katsuki, no emojis, nothing, just Bakugou. It stings a little. 

“Still doesn’t explain the decision to sit in the freezing cold on the curb where anyone could pick you up or hurt you.” 

You sigh, head dropping to your hands in defeat. 

“Please don’t get mad at me, I’ve had enough of people being mad at me tonight.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just confused why, when I gave you my number for this exact reason. It’s kinda stupid of you to-” he knows he should have stopped after ‘im not mad’, but he isn’t one to bite his tongue, especially not when it comes to the well-being of people he cares about, but as he watches you look up at him, wide teary eyes and wobbly bottom lip, he feels the steam easing. 

“Bakugou, please.” The request is soft, broken and wholly pathetic. 

And it hits exactly where it needs. 

His resolve to be the tough love friend breaks.  With a huffed breath into the sky, he shakes off the irritation before squatting down to your level, the muscles in his legs aching post-gym. He should already be home chowing down whatever bullshit premade protein meal he had made at the beginning of the week, but how could he leave a woman alone in the middle of the night, and not just any woman, you. 

“ ‘m not mad, just worried.” Large hands wrap around your shoulders, the cold of your skin almost has him recoiling. 

How long had you been out here? Where is your jacket? The hero scans your form, checking for any cuts or bruises, anything that could give him some information as to why you are so upset, but he comes up empty. Apart from the tears in the stockings at your knees, there is nothing to indicate any bodily harm, but even then, the skin below is not broken or bruised,  so why did - Bakugou shakes the thought away from his prefrontal cortex. That’ll be something he processes later when you aren’t suffering from hypothermia. Shoes? Where are your shoes?

“What happened?” Katsuki asks, ducking his head down to get a better look at you. 

Your bottom lip quivers, and you inhale shaky and uneven. 

“Are you-" 

Tears begin to fall, your head hanging low as sobs begin to wrack your freezing body. Katsuki winces, terrified at the turn of events, but before he can deal with your emotional well-being, he has to warm you up first. Quickly shoving his jumper up and off, he begins to dress you. 

“I don’t need-” you begin to protest, but he is quick to cut you off. 

“Arms up.”

You obey, sniffling through the tears.

“Good job,” he mutters, internally wincing at the praise the moment it passes his lips, but you don't recoil or slap him silly, so either you didn’t notice or don’t mind. He thinks it is the latter. The jumper engulfs you, and while the cotton won’t do much, it is better than nothing against the single-digit temperature. Katsuki is crouched in front of you once again, your hands held in his as he uses his quirk to act as a heater. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” 

No answer comes. Just a fresh wave of tears and pitiful sobs. 

Fuck. He does not know what to do. Should he hug you? Rub your back? Pat you on the head? Bakugou Katsuki is not good at this, not good at emotions. He has never been, never had to be, so why now, why with you was he trying? He knows the answer but won’t admit it, won't speak it out loud because then it is the truth, and he doesn’t have time for that. And still you cry, unable to stop, and Katsuki thinks that maybe this is a good thing, it might be like throwing up, when you are sick, you just need to get it all out to feel better. Isn’t crying exactly like emotional throwing up? He always kinda viewed it that way, always felt that way whenever he cried. 

God, he is bad at this. He should hug you. That seems like the right thing to do, and so he does, as best he can. Bakugou reaches out and wraps a hand around the nape of your neck to pull you into him. You offer no resistance, allowing yourself to be pulled into a half-embrace, with Katsuki crouched before you. Your forehead rests on his shoulder, his hand on the back of your head, while his other still cradles yours, and he lets you cry and cry and cry. 

"Okay, you need to stop.” His voice is soft as he murmurs into your hair, the smell of your rose shampoo having invaded his senses the second you closed that small space. “You’re going to hyperventilate." 

You don’t stop. 

Instead, you use your entwined hands to push yourself off his chest and into the grass below. The momentum pulls Katsuki with you, the hand that had been at your neck slamming into the earth near your head as he steadies himself, his body hovering dangerously close above you, but you do not notice. 

“Hey, Honey,” Katsuki calls, hand falling from yours to slide across your jaw and pull your attention to him. 

A cheap move, but he needs you to focus. 

“I need you to breathe, please. Just for a second.” The softness in his voice catches him off guard, unaware that he had been able to muster something so sweet. 

Your eyes blink open, red and watery, but you're looking at him, and that’s a start.

“Please.” 

Another wobble of your bottom lip as you part them and take in a breath. 

“Thank you. One more?” He offers, rubbing a thumb over your cheek, collecting the salt water that has streaked rivers into your skin. 

You follow his direction, taking in more oxygen until your chest rises in even breaths and you can make it a second without sobbing. 

“You okay?” The question is ridiculous; he knows the answer. 

A shake of your head, and there is a silence for a moment before you release the question that has been rolling over in your mind for weeks now. 

"Why doesn’t he like me?” 

“'Cause he’s an idiot.” 

Your frown deepens, a feat he did not know was possible, your bottom lip justting out even more, the plush flesh red and swollen with teeth marks. 

Katsuki continues to wipe at your cheek with his thumb, some heat returning to your skin with each swipe. 

“He is an idiot,” you agree, sniffling, but your resolve doesn’t last long before fresh tears spill out again. “But he can be so nice to me.” 

Katsuki sighs, chest aching with the rush of fresh tears. You’re too good to be feeling like this. Too kind and pure to have your heart broken the way it is. Anger begins to simmer in his chest, over-taking any sympathy that had been filling him not moments ago. He needs to kill this guy, break his legs or fingers or something, to have him feel the way you are feeling now, to know the kind of pain he is inflicting on you. Bakugou needs revenge. 

“I’m so stupid.” You’re muttering before he can figure out what you’re saying. “I don’t know why I keep going back, I think I can handle it and I just- God, I’m such a dumbass.” 

“You’re not a dumbass.” His fingers shake as he pushes hair back from your face, curling around your jaw, and he tells himself it's a way to check your pulse because vitals are important, but he just wants to feel you.

“You call me a dumbass.”  Your frown deepens, body shivering against the dew-soaked grass. 

“I-”

Katsuki’s mouth falls open, ready to argue against it, but you’re not wrong. It had been the first thing he had called you when he had seen you, not a friendly nickname or your actual name, but that impolite, stupid and now horrifically regretful name. 

“I’m sorry.” The apology falls from him before he can even think about it. 

You freeze beneath him, eyes widening at the admission. 

He feels your pulse pick up beneath his fingertips. 

Normally, he would take it back, turn the situation around and make the other person believe he did not just admit defeat and apologise, and then somehow he would have the other person offering their penance, but he doesn’t want to do that this time. Doesn’t want to push you away for the comfort of his own well-being, plus with the way you are looking up at him, he’d apologise for things he didn’t even do.

“You’re not a dumbass. I- I shouldn’t have called you that. It’s just something I call everyone and I.. I’m sorry.” his tone is low, gruff and gravely as he lowers his volume, words soft and quiet for you and you alone. 

Tears begin to gather once again, your bottom lip back to its usual wobble, and for a second, he thinks he's made it worse, but all those fears are pushed aside as you wrap your arms around his neck and crush him against your chest. Rose and jasmine fill his senses, the weight of your arms around him heavy and tight as your hug pulls him down. Usually quicker with his reaction time, he stumbles for a millisecond, quickly propping himself up on his forearm and knees on either side of your hips as his free arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you just as close as you dig your fingers into his skin.

“Thank you, Katsuki.” Your lips brush against his cheek as you whisper.

The sound of his name has his heart racing, his exposed skin heating as he feels your cheek against his. He had not expected this outcome, had not thought anything beyond needing to apologise and make you feel better. 

“I mean it.” Your arms squeeze. 

He smiles at the embrace. “I mean it too.” 

You lie like that for a few moments, too caught up in the feel of one another to even think about letting go. He can feel your heart beating against his, the racing thump of it matching his own. You pull back from the hug, hands coming to rest at his shoulders. Katsuki brings a hand up from the grass, sliding it over your jaw, cupping your face, a gentleness you never knew possible. You had never been held like this, with such tenderness and reverence as if you were something out of this world. 

A shaky sigh leaves you.

“Am I nice to you?” Katsuki asks softly.

You nod. 

His ghost his thumb over your cheek, swiping up the remnants of the tears that escaped your diligent wiping. You stare up at him, galaxies swirling within your glassy eyes, and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you. His muscles tighten at the impulse, soul pushing him forward to make contact, to seal the fate of your friendship into something more with a simple peck, but he can’t. He can’t make that move after you have poured your heart out to him. It wouldn’t be fair. So, he pulls back.

He watches your face fall, hope fading from your eyes as you sit up, wobbly frown already returning. 

“You’re gonna freeze, he murmurs, standing up in one fluid motion before offering a hand out to you. “Let’s go”

Your hand slides into his, all heat gone as you offer him a polite smile. 

Fuck.

God, he was an idiot. 

---

Saturday 9:13 pm You: hey, are you free?

Saturday 9:15 pm Katsuki: Yeah. Is everything okay?

Saturday 9:15 pm You: yeah, i was just wondering if you were in the area. i kinda need a ride home.

Saturday 9:15 pm Katsuki: Send me the address.

Saturday 9:15 pm You: only if youre not busy, i don't want to bother you.actually, i'm sorry it's okay, ill call an uber. sorry to bother again.

Saturday 9:16 pm Katsuki: Send me the address. I'm coming to get you.

Saturday 9:16 pm You: thank you

----

“I feel like I need to open a tab with you.” You mutter a joke as Katsuki slides into the once-empty seat opposite you.

Now that his large frame occupies the space, humiliation crashes down upon your already slumped shoulders.

You had been stood up.

Left waiting in a restaurant long enough, the wait staff had caught onto the situation and slid a complimentary drink onto your pathetic table with a sympathetic grin that is often reserved for stray dogs. You were the human equivalent of a stray dog. Now, if only euthanasia were an option, the mortification would be a little more tolerable.

“A tab for what?” Bakugou asks, hand rising to grab the waiter’s attention.

“You’re always taking me home.” There is a joke there, but your spirits had already been crushed beyond belief; you don't need to have your saviour laugh in your face at the insinuation of the two of you together.

Katsuki stares, brows furrowed.

“I said you were taking me home, but you’re just driving me home, it’s not like you, and I are… or that you’re even-" you shake your head, clearing the shameful attempt at humour from your brain,

His expression does not falter as you ramble, so you attempt to clarify again despite wanting to shut up forever.

“It’s a joke about you-“

“I get it, but I’m not taking you home and fucking you, so why do you need a tab?”

You note the detached way he spits out the words, as if their meaning has no effect on him, and you have to fight the frown that tugs at your mouth. Of course, he wouldn't react to that image. Why would he? Sure, you had that moment a few weeks ago, but it'd been radio silence since then, and on top of that, you were drunk, so what if you were making a bigger deal out of it than it actually was? 

“Um, I need a tab 'cause you’re like an Uber…” you stumble through the sentence, dejection evident despite your terrible attempt at realigning your posture to appear unbothered.

Bakugou continues to stare at you, unblinking in his visual assessment, before he lowers his guard the tiniest inch. His lips lift at the corners as if he wants to smile but can't.

A moment of silence before your apology whooshes out of you in a defeated breath. “I’m sorry, I should have called someone else; I can’t keep doing this to you.”

He shakes his head, eyes following the line of your shoulders as you lean further down. “No, I liked that you called me.”

Whether it was intentional or not, you can't ignore the emphasis on the pronoun and how the smile he had been trying to suppress was beginning to slip out.

“I'd rather you call me than find out you walked home or some stupid shit.”

Oh. Okay.

You smile back, tight-lipped and polite at the correction.

Silence fills the air between you, growing like a gas cloud that threatens to envelop you both with the promise of a dreary and awkward death.

“So, what was his excuse this time?” Katsuki asks.

You debate lying, making up some excuse that didn’t make your current situationship look like a complete and utter asshole, that you hadn’t called said ass in the morning to double, and triple check that he was indeed going to show for the dinner tonight but that would do nothing but embarrass you further and Katsuki would figure it out through his complex web of sources, so you tell the truth.

“There is none.” You shrug, slipping your hands under your stocking-clad thighs, the way you used to upon being scolded. “I just feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Katsuki comforts, his voice gentle as he smiles at you. The softness doesn't last long as he catches himself and reins it in. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“Why do you do that?” You ask and nod your chin in his direction.

“What?”

“You give me a compliment, and then you follow it up with some backhanded comment that makes me feel like you don’t really want to compliment me.” You explain and watch the colour rise in your classmate’s cheeks. “If you don’t want to be nice to me, you don’t have –“

“I want to be nice to you.”  Katsuki cuts in, the confession rushed.

“Then just be nice?”

Bakugou pulls his bottom lip, teeth gnawing on the plush flesh as he thinks of what to say next. You know he can be. Experienced it first-hand a few times now, the most recent being the way he cradled you as you sobbed, stroked your hair from your face and wiped the tears that streaked your face. Despite the brutal armour that surrounds his entire being, kindness and warmth are simmering just below the metal.

“Am I allowed to be nice to you?” The question is soft, reserved and laced with apprehension.

Your heart squeezes. “Yes, you’re allowed to be nice to me.”

-----

Katsuki drives you home the way he always does.

His phone is in your hands to allow for easy DJ duties, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you babble useless facts about the artists or songs, the latest book you were reading, class assignments, or anything else that came to mind. He does occasionally pipe up, offering small topics and opinions, but for the most part, he sits and enjoys your company. He likes your company, likes you, and wants to spend more time with you outside of a car, on a date, every day, all day.

"Can I ask you something?" Katsuki’s voice stops you as you reach the door to your apartment complex.

He had insisted on walking you to your door.

“Sure.” You turn back to him, smiling despite the frown pulling at your lips. 

For a moment, his eyes land on you. The usual intensity in his gaze softens for a tenth of a second before he quickly shifts attention to your shoes.

"Why do you keep going back to him?" Genuine concern and questioning fill his tone. 

"I... It’s easy and something I know." You shrug. "I’m not sure why. I just...I don't know." You can’t look at him either, heat flooding your cheeks at your inability to answer such a simple question. Why were you continuously going back to a man who disrespects you time and time again, embarrassing you each time?

"You deserve better, you know that, right?" A small step forward, closing the already small space between you. "You deserve someone who will actually show up when you need them and hold your hand in public and not just at some party and call you every day and pick you up from work and take you home. Not their home, your home. You deserve someone..."

"Like you?" you offer, hoping he'll say yes and make this easy on you. 

He is quick to answer, suddenly very afraid of where he is taking this conversation. "Not me but someone, not him."

"Ohh, okay." You nod, cheeks blazing in shame. The keys in your hand are all too interesting now that the unspoken question between you, too, has been answered. "Well, I'll umm...I'll think about it, yeah?" 

Katsuki nods, averting your eyes. 

"Well, thanks again, Katsuki. I promise this will be the last time, it's not fair on you, but thanks again." You smile, readying yourself to turn and all but sprint into your apartment. "I really mean it, thank you, Bakugou."

You're halfway turned around when you feel a hand on your wrist keeping you from spinning away. Katsuki's hand slides along your waist, gripping the satin on your dress in a white-knuckle grip before he presses his lips to yours. You freeze, shock stilling your brain and body for a moment before reality sets in and you're dropping everything to wrap yourself around him. Katsuki loosens his grip, hands reaching up to cup your face with the same gentleness he had held you with all those weeks ago. Your mouth opens beneath his, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip, and you pull back, chest heaving as you race to catch your breath. You don't want to not be kissing him, but the lack of oxygen was causing your head to spin. Fingers trail along your cheek, curling at your jaw before sliding into your hair.

"Is this you being nice to me?"

Katsuki huffs a laugh. "This is just the beginning of me being nice to you."

[yeontsuki]

get out

𑣲 summary: you want to change your clothes, so you ask bakugo to leave the room. 𑣲 pairing: bakugo x reader 𑣲 wc: 1.0k | 𑣲 tags: fluff

You return home after another long day. Bakugo perks up the moment you step past the entrance of the apartment, his lips automatically curving into a broad smile. He rises from the couch and closes the gap between the two of you with large strides as you kick off your shoes.

"Hi." You mumble, tired and weary.

"Welcome home, sweetheart." Bakugo murmurs back as he plants a soft kiss onto your temple. You lean into his touch with a content sigh as he rubs your hand soothingly and takes your bag from you. "How was today?"

"It was okay." You offer Bakugo a small smile as your gaze trails all over the interior of your apartment, now spick and span without a single dust particle in sight. "You cleaned the apartment?"

"Mhmm." Bakugo answers with a hum, pleased that you've noticed his hard work. He gestures at the neat apartment with a hand. "Deep cleaned the entire place. Good use of my rest day."

You grow relieved knowing that the chores are done for the day and you can relax without needing to worry about anything. Bakugo grasps your hand and gazes at you fondly. "I want to bring you out tonight. Are you up for it, or would you prefer to rest at home?"

You ponder about it. The two of you barely go out these days, swamped with work and other commitments. You can't even remember when was the last time you went on a date with Bakugo.

"I'm fine. Where do you wanna go?" You ask with a small giggle, giddy at the thought of spending a romantic night with the love of your life. Bakugo reciprocates your enthusiasm with a grin as he hums, thinking.

"What about that fancy bar by the waterfront?" Bakugo asks and your eyes light up, recalling the glitz and glamour of the bar when the two of you were strolling along the waterfront the other day. You remarked that the bar seemed like a nice place for date night and Bakugo hummed in agreement, hand grasping yours firmly. Your gaze softens as you think about how Bakugo still remembers everything you say, always paying a great amount of attention to you.

"Sounds good. Let me get changed first." You reply, gesturing at your work attire. You peck Bakugo on the cheek lightly and amble into the shared bedroom, rummaging through the closet for an outfit suitable for date night. You find the outfit you're looking for and turn around to find Bakugo sitting on the bed, gazing expectantly at you.

You're not a stranger to changing brazenly in front of Bakugo and you certainly do not mind putting on a show for him. But you're feeling slightly mischievous today and decide to tease him lightly as you curve your lips into a pout of faux hesitation. "Kats, can you leave the room? I want to change."

Bakugo raises an eyebrow at you and you can see the exact moment when meaning of your words finally clicks in his head, his frown deepening to the point where his eyebrows might fall off. "What?" He utters, sounding extremely offended and you resist the temptation to laugh. "What did you just say?"

"I want to change." You say as innocently as you can, trying to swallow the laughter down as you gesture at the bedroom door. "So uh, can you leave?"

"Woah, woah, hold on. You're asking me to leave when you're changing?" Bakugo barks quietly as he hops off the bed and towers over you in an instant. He looks at you up and down before he tilts his head, the look of bewilderment in his eyes so amusing it's getting harder for you to contain your laughter. "Why do you want me to leave?"

"Because I want to change my clothes, duh." You roll your eyes like it's the dumbest question he could have ever asked in his entire lifetime. You stalk towards him and grab his hand before attempting to shove him past the door and out of the room. "So I need you to— ugh, leave right now!"

"What? No!" Bakugo shouts as he grabs the doorframe like his life depends on it, biceps tensing and muscles bulging. You continue pushing against Bakugo, even turning your back onto him so you can get a better angle but with how much you're trying to stifle your bubbling laughter, you barely manage to nudge him an single inch. "Sweets, do not make me leave! I refuse!"

"I need my privacy!" You yelp, your pushes growing weaker and weaker. Bakugo continues to retaliate with the sturdiness of a brick wall, a terrified yelp leaving his lips.

"We're at home! You do not need privacy when you're around me!" Bakugo shouts as you turn around only to see the desperation swimming in his crimson eyes as he continues to hold onto the doorframe for dear life, chest rising and falling rapidly and jaw hanging wide open. He looks so confused and lost by your sudden insistence that tears down your guise completely and you're unable to keep the act up anymore. "Baby, I've seen you in your underwear, in your lingerie and completely naked when we're having sexy time! Why are you insisting that I leave so you can change your clothes?!"

You inhale a sharp breath before you burst into guffaws, clutching your side because never in your whole life have you ever heard Bakugo use the term sexy time. Bakugo just looks at you, the confusion never fading. You take one look at him and laugh again.

"It was a prank, baby." You giggle lightly before planting a soft peck on Bakugo's lips. "I wanted to see how you would react. You're a real drama queen."

Bakugo scrunches up his face before he huffs and kisses you roughly. "Goddammit. You and your damned pranks will be the end of me, I swear."

"I'm sorry~" You coo, patting his cheek lightly to placate him even further. Bakugo just rolls his eyes at you before he straightens his back and takes your hand, pulling you towards the edge of the bed. He plops down onto the bed, manspreading with his legs planted on the floor and his hands resting on the mattress behind him as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"If you're really sorry, put on a show for me then." Bakugo licks his lips, his ravenous gaze burning hotter than the sun.

a/n: working on after dark part 3 so for now, have all these old oneshots that i cleaned up.

© bkgplushie. do not steal, copy or use any of my work for ai. do not copy, modify or repost.

[moonstonejpg]

alpha bakugou x omega reader

usually, bakugou waits until he is inside his apartment—door shut tight, the deadbolt already locked in place, before he takes off his scent blocker patch. the last thing he needs is the general public knowing he’s an alpha, as he’s afraid he’d get more attention than necessary. but this time he doesn’t even think—he walks right into the elevator, pushes the button for the fifth floor, and peels the material off. he crumples it in his hands and shoves it deep into his pocket, his tail swishing behind him, happy to let his scent glands breathe after a hard day.

but then he hears someone calling down the hall.

“wait!” and he doesn’t even think before he’s sliding his arm between the closing doors, triggering them to stay open. you breeze past him, your bag sliding down your arm, your breath coming out in short bursts as you try to catch your breath.

“thank you,” you pant, fixing the strap of your tote bag and leaning back against the back wall.

he recognizes you immediately—you’re the girl who lives across the hall from him, the one who baked him chocolate chip cookies when he first moved in, and the one he always hears humming prettily whenever you’re in the hallway. but he’s never actually talked to you, besides the thank you that he had embarrassingly grunted out when you nearly shoved an entire plate of cookies into his chest (he doesn’t want to think about the moan that left his mouth when he bit into the first cookie, or the fact that he demolished the dozen or so that you had baked for him within an hour). usually, it’s just a nod of acknowledgement, or a small smile that he gives you whenever you pass him.

he tries not to be creepy about glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but you’re very distracting. not only because you’re still panting, or because your bright yellow overalls keep catching his gaze, but because you’re pretty. so pretty, in fact, that he physically cannot stop his gaze from periodically sliding over to you.

this was a thought he’d always had when he’d see you around the apartment complex, but now that he’s standing next to you (nearly towering over you), he finds he can’t let the thought go.

the pretty flush crawling up your neck catches his eye, and then his gaze goes higher. first to the smattering of silver jewelry in your ear, his eyes following the curve of it until he gets distracted by the intricate dark ink peeking out from behind your ear. he leans forward a little, curious, but then shakes his head a little and moves his gaze to the floor.

the sound of gentle rustling fills the elevator, and he looks over to see you gathering your hair in a clip and piling it on top of your head. his eyes flick down to the curve of your neck, then the freckles gathered there. he stares at your exposed skin, nearly entranced.

what would it be like to corner you? to kiss his way from your shoulder up to the pretty column of your neck? to nip at your soft skin? to sink his canines into your scent gland—

bakugou gulps, then pinches himself—hard.

and at first, everything is fine.

you’re catching your breath, and bakugou is giving you room to do so. but then he sniffs, and the most delectable scent consumes him. at first he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but by the time the elevator reaches the third floor, he realizes it’s you.

his ears perk up, and his nose turns toward you, the scent pumping out of you in waves. it’s a mixture of sunshine and vanilla, warm and sweet and so you it nearly knocks him to his knees. his mouth begins to water, and he tucks himself further back into the corner, embarrassed when his tail starts swooshing faster behind him.

you finally turn toward him, your grip so tight on your bag that your knuckles whiten. the movement has a burst of your scent rushing towards him, but it’s the way your pupils have completely swallowed your irises that makes his stomach drop.

because you’re an omega. and what’s worse—it looks like you’re teetering on the edge of being in heat.

the elevator is still going; the light indicating that it just reached the fourth floor.

bakugou holds his breath and pushes himself further back into the corner, desperately trying to put some distance between the two of you. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that despite how hard he constantly tries to make himself smaller around omegas, desperate to try to make them see him as someone who is safe, he doesn’t really trust himself. not when you’re looking at him like that, or when you smell so incredible that he has a hard time blocking out thoughts of what it would be like to press you up against the wall and press his tongue up against your scent gland.

there's a delicious heat curling low in his stomach, and his cock is hard and aching in his pants. his mouth is watering so bad he has to clamp his jaws shut, especially now that he notices the subtle scent of your sweet and heady slick mixed in with your normal scent.

his wolf is pacing in his chest now, and bakugou can tell he's on the edge of breaking out.

I just want to help—let me help—please, pleasepleaseplease. I won't hurt her, I just—

the ding of the elevator spooks you (and him, if he's honest), your eyes blinking rapidly as you rip your gaze away from him. the doors slide open, but you pause, seemingly fighting an internal battle before you let out a tiny whine and force yourself over the threshold. you spin around at the last second, but bakugou stays where he is, watching as the doors start to shut.

all the movement from you has your scent lingering heavy in the small tin box of a room, and it’s only when the doors are half an inch from closing that a realization really does bring him to his knees.

mate. mine.

[heterochromaticshoto]

they don't know (we're just private) • k.bakugo

prompt: you and katsuki tell the class you're getting married, but they're surprised because they didn't even know you guys were dating. pairing: pro-hero!bakugo x fem!pro-hero reader genre: established relationship, kinda fluff kinda angst, kinda suggestive, non-linear (ish) warnings: the entire class is so dumb, mina keeps trying to set you up with people, the class is kinda annoying lowk, it's a tiny bit suggestive, mentions of blood, sad backstory, intentional lowercase word count: 2.9k (don't ask... i tried to aim for less) a/n: just finished mha, all of them are still so hot even as they're older AND IT'S NOT FAIRRRRRRRRR. so here you go. also to note, i made you guys a lefty just because i can ? idk

you didn't come to ua to make friends; at least, that's what you told yourself on your first day. everyone looked kind enough, but you knew that at the end of your tenure, the race to the top of the hero ranks would make you all competition. so you only focused on strengthening your quirk, being the best and keeping to yourself.

but in comes katsuki fricking bakugo. a hot head with an arrogant personality, but the skills to back it up. he was strong and he knew that he was. he was smart and he knew that he was, and boy did you hate him. he was a natural hard worker that kept getting better and better as time went on, and you hated that about him.

until you didn't.

you've seen how being strong made him a target for all kinds of stupid things, and you found a new appreciation for him after secretly witnessing the fight he and midoriya had after all might retired (you never told him you knew about it, even after being together all these years). you still hated him, but you now had a bit of respect for him.

and then he changed. he was still loud, abrasive, arrogant, and a tad bit pompous, but he was also thoughtful. he was quick on his feet when it came to pairing up with anyone, and he's shown you numerous times that he doesn't see you as a weakling. that he doesn't see anyone in his class as weak.

he calls you an insulting nickname like he does everyone else, he calls you an extra like he does everyone else, and he yells at you despite you telling him not to because "why should i make an exception for someone like you?" yet when you guys were on the frontlines against the league of villains for the war, the only time he shouted at you was when he got your attention against the villains.

your selflessness and loyalty to your classmates almost got you killed many, many times in battle, but your strength and determination always let you bounce back. and you have the scars to prove it. being pierced by one of all for one's ... things in your left shoulder to take a hit for the number one hero before katsuki even woke up was the biggest one you had.

the other one was on your forearm after trying to make a way for midoriya to get to the ofa possessed shigaraki. it's crazy to think that bakugo often traces those scars before he goes to sleep now.

the aftermath of the war was a brutal one. you weren't the most banged up, but knowing that you had a friend in the rehabilitation centre was enough for you. well, he wasn't much of a friend then, but you guys got to that point eventually.

you found it easier to talk to him when he wasn't annoyed by his friends all of the time, and your shared bond of having to relearn to use your dominant hands made it easy to talk to each other.

[•••]

then, he started asking you to train with him. he said that your quirks worked well together, and learning how to mesh it can help in the long run. you found yourself agreeing.

then one day he yelled a little too harshly at kaminari and it triggered the past you tried so desperately to hide from everyone else. after all, you did declare that you weren't there to make friends. and sure you talk to your class because you should at least be civil with them now before you pummel them in the rankings when you graduate, and who knows? maybe one day you'll have to work together in a similar situation like what happened with the war. you hope something like the war never happens again.

but no one knew your past. no one knew about your parents or your trauma or the fact that when everyone else's parents took care of them in the hospital after the war, you had to take care of yourself. no one knew about the nights you went to bed hungry because you couldn't get a technique right and your dad shouted so much it made your ears bleed.

no one knew and you tried to keep it that way. but when katsuki's insult to the blond boy landed a little too close to home, you're walking away to catch your breath and find your bearings. you know that katsuki's a little rough around the edges, and that he's quick to anger, but you've never reacted to his yelling this way. or maybe you have, and you just reverted back to the times where you've had to ignore it before crying in the comforts of your room.

you stay outside for a while, hugging your knees to your chest and trying your best not to let anything get to you. but it's so hard. katsuki's words just reminded you of a time you tried so hard to bury. you didn't even know you were crying until you felt calloused fingers wiping away your tears.

the heart to heart you and katsuki had made him change his entire perspective of you. he knew you were strong, but to know what made you this way added a new level of tolerance to his mind when it came to you. he found himself wanting to kill your parents for you, despite not seeing you as anything other than a slightly tolerable extra who got hurt because he didn't wake up fast enough to save you and all might.

[•••]

and then came the final exam. winter breeze battered down on your backs, but you guys were anything but cold. and you demolished the fricking competition. somewhere, somehow, the closeness you guys accumulated over the semester bloomed into some sort of attraction by the time you guys got into your third year.

and katsuki's not a weakling, if he wants something, he'll do everything he could to get it. so on the first night of school, while you and him are in rehab, he confesses to you. and you thought he was joking. you didn't laugh at his confession or anything, but it took him twenty-five minutes to actually convince you that he was serious.

you didn't give him an answer right away. after all, you had just come to terms with the fact that you didn't hate him as much as you used to. but thinking back on it, you never actually hated him. you were just envious.

but katsuki was thoughtful. he remembered things about you that you forgot you told him, and he never once made you feel inferior to him. in fact, looking back at it, there were signs that he started liking you a little while back, you were just too blind to notice.

after mulling it over (and a few instances after the confession where he made your heart race - and made you realize that he's been doing that for quite some time) you accepted his confession. you guys didn't immediately become boyfriend and girlfriend either.

he took you out on dates, let you explore his hobbies while he explored yours, and then when he was absolutely certain that he wanted no one else but you (he's been certain for a while but extra reassurance never hurt anybody) he asked if he could be your boyfriend. and you said yes.

[•••]

you guys kept it a secret at first. no pda, no sneaking glances, acted like normal in front of the class. and when you guys decided not to be so secretive anymore, you soft launched him on your instagram. you liked the social media thing, so he let you do it. and after that, you guys got a little more bold and a lot more open about it.

a little hand holding there, being all in each other's personal space. tag teaming in the project to buy midoriya his suit because as much as katsuki never liked admitting it, aside from you, he also wanted to kick villain butt with the green haired kid. it was the two of you who brought it up together to everyone else, and they were more than happy to pitch in. technically it was your idea to tell everyone else because katsuki wanted to do everything himself.

then you guys graduated. you went to an agency you interned with second year to be a sidekick and katsuki decided to immediately go pro. a year into the hero business, you guys moved in together. a year after that, you joined his company.

the class noticed that you two got closer during rehab, but no one guessed that you guys were together. even though you constantly posted bakugo on your socials and stories. even though your most liked post on instagram was a picture of katsuki smiling at the cake you gave him for his birthday. you even captioned it "happy birthday to the best guy ever🤍"

was that not bold enough? you have no idea.

[•••]

but then you posted a picture of the two of your hands conjoined with the caption "onto a new chapter🩷" a few days ago. no one messaged you. in fact, the only person that has mentioned anything about love to you was mina. she's been up your ass for weeks on end about getting a boyfriend.

"all you do is work all day with bakugo, (name). let's go out together. i've got a few guys that's interested." she'd always say to you, and you always shut her down.

when telling her you were busy stopped working, you just started to ignore her. you even told her that you're currently in a relationship and that you like your partner but she didn't believe you. in fact, she laughed in your face when you told her it was katsuki.

"business partners don't count, (name)." she'd always say.

it got very annoying.

[•••]

"you know they have no idea we're together, right?" you asked him one day when you guys were getting ready for a dinner with the class.

you put your earring in your right ear and kept rubbing your lips together to make your gloss shine. you didn't even have to look up to know that he was staring at you.

"hah?! with how obvious we've been? what else do we have to do? make out in front of them?!" he asked incredulously.

"i'd rather not. every single time we make out, you never keep your hands to yourself." you chastised.

"and why should i? you're my fiancee. i can keep my hands all over you all i damn want." he defended.

"alright. different sentence. last time we made out, i couldn't walk for two days." you told him.

"be grateful it was only two. i was goin' easy on ya anyway." he replied.

you rolled your eyes and went back to fixing your jewelry. you twist at your engagement ring in silence.

"i'm just saying. we should tell them. the engagement party invites are gonna be sent tomorrow and i know you'd rather not getting a million text messages asking about the suddenness of it all."

"we wouldn't have to worry about any of this if they weren't so fricking blind. you post me all the time. with your cheesy captions. what more do they want from you?"

"maybe we should kiss in front of them." you thought out loud.

"and give them a show?" his voice suddenly goes down an octave, "i like the way you think." he said, and you can practically feel the smirk on his lips.

"back up off of me you freak." you pushed him away.

you stood up and smoothed out your dress, jolting slightly when you felt his rough palm smack your ass. your glare at him gets ignored.

[•••]

and then you're at the dinner table with the gang. you guys talked about life with each other, and some of the group drank to their hearts content. your rehab hand does its best to squeeze katsuki's under the table, and he can tell that you're nervous.

every single time you've tried to talk to the group, someone's always there to talk over you. you were getting annoyed. so you looked at bakugo's friends and decided to start there.

"how's pro-hero life going for you?" you asked kirishima, who was to your right.

"it's so demanding! but i wouldn't have it any other way, y'know? how's it being number four?" he asked you cheekily.

both of you ignored katsuki's glare at the sore subject. he loved letting you know that he'll catch up to you soon. you don't deter him otherwise. you knew that he was waiting on midoriya.

"it's interesting. i always told you guys i was the strongest in the class, but no one believed me." you teased.

"HAH?!" you heard beside you.

here we go. you and kirishima thought.

"you're just up there right now because i'm making you look good, airhead." he told you.

"i don't need to hear you say the same thing even when i'm eating, kats. why don't you make yourself look good for once like the self centered brat you are?" you asked him, not noticing the table looking between the two of you a little warily.

"not my fault these extras can't handle me." he retorted.

"that's what you always say. but who has the higher rank between us? oh! that's right!"

"shut your hole before i shut it for you."

"i'd love to see you try, 'suki."

"don't say something you'll regret. we all know i know how to make you shut up."

you and katsuki glared at each other for a little too long, his hand giving yours a slightly tighter squeeze. you'd love to squeeze something else.

"are they actually arguing or are they flirting? i can never tell." you heard kaminari not so subtly whisper to jirou.

"you whisper so damn loud you idiot." jirou chided, slapping kaminari's head.

"but it would make sense, no? they've been business partners for years, sparks are bound to fly." sero piped in, not realizing that the topic of their conversation can hear them.

"puh-lease. (name)'s as single as ever. if anything she's married to her work. bakugo doesn't stand a chance." mina decided to say.

before you could even defend yourself (and your soon to be husband), the group decided to get loud, and you looked at katsuki to see that he was starting to get annoyed. so were you, but you knew you had to change the topic and fast.

"actually, there was something i wan-"

"and don't get me started on (name). i've been trying to get her with this guy for weeks. but she keeps blowing me off. if that doesn't spell 'married to the job' then i don't know what does." mina added to the debate.

"guys if you can just-"

"maybe she's just not interested in the guy?" momo supplied.

"she doesn't even know him!" mina whined.

"then why are you so upset that she doesn't want to be set up? maybe you should respect her wishes, ribbit." tsuyu said.

"CAN YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?!" katsuki exploded.

everyone looked at him in shock. he hadn't exploded on them in a long time.

"(name)'s been tryna get you guys's stupid attention this entire time. stop talking over her, dammit." he started, "and pinky. if she doesn't wanna be with your sad excuse of a setup then leave her alone."

he started to lift up your intertwined hands, glaring at everyone as he did so.

"as a matter of fact. (name)'s been telling me you guys are idiots, but i didn't think it was true. so listen to me cause i'm only sayin' it once, you got it?"

then he slammed your hands on the table. it hurt a lot more than he thought it would've but the sound brought everyone's eyes to his and her hands. then you look to see almost everyone's jaws sliding across the floor.

"this idiot is my fiancee, alright? tell whoever's interested in her to piss off. stop pestering her about stuff she doesn't like, and give her the respect she deserves. don't let me tell you extras again." he stated, glaring at them all.

after a few minutes, no one else said a word. it was silent.

"well, i just wanted to say that we're having an engagement party on saturday. the official invite will be sent out tomorrow." you said.

that broke everyone out of their trance.

"what the fu-"

"you guys are together?! since when?!"

"wait you weren't joking?!"

"i'm proud of you bakubro!"

everyone talked over one another in their classic class A way, but it's overwhelming. as a matter of fact, your annoyance is getting to you, so you decided to address one thing.

"oh and mina?" you called out to her.

she looked up at you to notice your anger, and it had her stiff in her chair.

"the next time you ask me about something and i tell you no, don't pester me like that again, got it? and don't ever insult my man in front of me again." your glare sent shivers down her spine.

[•••]

you didn't join ua to make friends. but somehow you left with a family. an annoying, very dense family. and you left with the love of your life.

and as you watch everyone have a grand time at your engagement party, with your head on your fiance's shoulder as you talk to mitsuki about everything under the sun, you're glad you didn't stick to your original plan to not be close to anyone.

how else would you have bagged your hottie if you did?

[httpjrnl]

❝ 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐏𝐑 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨 ❞

༏˖ katsuki bakugo x reader

༏˖ synopsis : you’re katsuki bakugo’s PR agent but he sees potential in you.

༏˖ tags : smau, not serious threats, post-war, fem!reader,

from yuumi , plot heavy lowkey im ready

[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