Years of brutal training. Endless patrols. Rescue missions that left him carrying concrete slabs like they weighed nothing.
A body like his wasn't built overnight.
It was earned.
Still...
You weren't exactly thinking about any of that.
Not when your face was currently squished against one of them.
"...Comfortable?" his voice rumbled from somewhere above you.
You hummed, nuzzling deeper into the warm muscle.
"Mhm."
"...You're usin' my arm like a damn pillow."
"'Cause it is."
A scoff. "Brat"
You were also convinced half of Japan wanted these arms.
The skin-tight hero costume certainly didn't help.
Every interview. Every press conference. Every rescue caught on camera had people online collectively losing their minds whenever he crossed his arms or flexed without realizing it.
Sure you loved his arms but the rest of Japan loved those arms for entirely similar reasons.
The hero rankings practically exploded every time a new agency photo dropped.
Reporters somehow managed to ask the most ridiculous questions just to keep him standing in front of cameras a little longer.
You'd seen the edits.
The thirst compilations.
The embarrassingly dedicated fan accounts.
Sometimes you were pretty sure the cocky bastard made it worse on purpose.
Coming home straight from the agency after squeezing in one last workout.
Veins standing out beneath tanned skin.
Sleeves rolled up just a little tighter around his arms than usual, buttons looking one deep breath away from surrendering.
Just enough to watch your traitorous eyes linger a little too long, smirking like he already knew where the night was going.
But none of that compared to the mornings.
Those belonged entirely to you.
Just with Katsuki.
Soft around the edges in a way the rest of the world would never believe.
Sleep-mussed blond hair sticking up in every direction.
Grey sweatpants hanging low enough to make you question his intentions early morning.
You shuffled into the kitchen, still half asleep, and without a word your hand found its usual place, giving his ass a lazy squeeze.
"Morning, beautiful."
He barely reacted anymore, already used to it.
Just huffed out a quiet laugh beneath his breath, the sound rough with sleep as he continued flipping the breakfast pan.
"Mornin', pretty," he rasped.
Your smile widened.
Naturally, your next move was to latch onto his arm.
Both hands wrapped around his bicep as you shamelessly buried your face into it.
"Hungry," you mumbled giving a playful nibble to his arm.
"For breakfast?"
"...Eventually."
His brow lifted.
You were already staring again.
Your gaze wandered shamelessly over broad shoulders, across his chest, down the defined planes of his waist before settling—once again—on those stupidly huge biceps.
He caught you. Of course he did.
That infuriatingly handsome arrogant half-smirk tugged at his lips.
"...See somethin' you like?"
Before you could get another word in, he hooked an arm around your waist.
The world tipped.
One effortless lift-
And suddenly you were sitting on the kitchen counter.
Somehow, he still towered over you.
"...Tch."
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.
"Greedy little thing."
His hands settled against your hips as he stepped between your knees, amusement dancing in crimson eyes.
"just gonna keep starin'..."
He leaned in, big hands already parting your legs and trailing higher.
"...or you gon' work f'it baby?"
Prohero!Bakugo who had big biceps.
Strong enough to lift cars.
Strong enough to tear through concrete.
Strong enough to save lives.
The rest of Japan admired them because they made him a hero.
There is a faint mark on your back, fading traces that resemble tight grip of fingers.
It isn't rare for you to be littered in bites and bruises, Bakugou took pride in marking you up any way possible, but this wasn't his mark.
"So, you let your side piece mark you up too?" He huffed, arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame, grey sweats loose on his waist, cum-gutters peeking through the elastic, whore.
"Which one are you talking about?" You move around sluggishly, trying to find whatever mark he was taking about, twisting your torso in an awkward angle before giving up and going back to getting ready.
"So, multiple side pieces, un-fucking-believable!" He groaned, arm raising up to run a hand through his hairs, "at least tell me, I am your favourite." He pleaded, tilting his head, sighing dramatically.
You scowled, "You are like 4th on the list." The pair of pants you had chosen today, refused to co-operate, stuck at your thighs despite your constant struggles to pull them up.
"Huh?! 4th?!!" He exclaimed, in utter disbelief, watching you hop around, "You better tell what he is doing so I can up my rank." He walked over, yanking you close by your arm, before reaching for your waistband gently pulling your pants up, hands circling your waist to make sure it didn't get stuck at the back of your thighs.
You let him manhandle your body, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as you lightly kiss his cheek, "He helps me dress up." Another kiss on his forehead. "Pulls my pants up for me." Another one on the tip of his nose. "Stares lovingly as I talk about my side pieces."
He grunted, zipping up your pants and pulling you closer, "Yeah." He mumbled against your lips, "Something tells me I might know this guy." Не pressed his lips against your jaw, hands tracing your body as he grabbed your shirt.
"Maybe." You slide your hands into the sleeves, letting him button up your shirt, "He is tall, blonde, and so utterly handsome." You moaned obnoxiously. "And he has a huge coc—"
"We can't have a cute moment, can we?" He sighed, letting go of your shirt buttons as he leaned his forehead against yours, "Your pant aren't too tight, are they?" He asked, eyes meeting your dumbfounded ones, "Ma can design you a perfect pai—"
You cut his words off, pressing your lips against his, swarm of butterflies erupting in your belly as you take in his words, "You considerate, caring asshole," You huffed pulling away from his lips, "you'll kill me someday."
He let out a breathy chuckle, cradling your jaw, pressing a kiss against your forehead, "Just trying to improve my rank, you know." He hummed, swaying slightly despite no music playing in the background, "Can't let your side pieces steal you away from me."
"It's a bruise by the way."
Bakugou hummed in question pulling away from you slightly.
"The mark you were looking at, bruise from sparring with Mina."
"Racoon eyes is your side pieces no.1?!!"
"Katsuki NO."
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
a/n: reposting an older fic (that I deleted along with few other fics, last year when I was tweaking)
── ✶ before you read: 1.4k words ; female reader ; established relationship ; very unserious influencer reader ; pro hero katsuki ; fluff and banter ; masterlist.
based on this post and amira’s hilarious comment
“Get ready with me to dump my pro hero boyfriend!”
You grin into your phone camera as you prop it up against a bottle of moisturizer on the bathroom counter. Beside you, Katsuki is brushing his teeth. The brushing immediately stops. You watch as his eyes narrow at you through the mirror, stifling a giggle.
“The fuck did you just say?”
You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “Hi, guys!” you continue cheerfully, waving at the camera. “Today I’m getting ready to break up with my pro hero boyfriend. Some of you might know him as Dynamight—”
“Is this some bullshit new trend online?” He crosses his arms, toothbrush hanging in his mouth as he looks at you unamused.
“—who I’m leaving because, unfortunately, he’s become a huge burden in my life, and I need to cut him loose.”
The toothbrush leaves his mouth, falling into the sink as he gapes, “What?”
You reach for a makeup sponge. “Normally, I would start with skincare, but he buys me the expensive stuff, and since I’m dumping him and won’t have his wallet anymore, I have to make it last. Can’t be wasting it on him, you know?”
“Hah?” he snaps, inching closer as he stares into the camera with furrowed brows. You easily ignore him.
“I’ve been meaning to break up with him sooner, but I just didn’t want to handle all the crying and stuff—from him, not me, just to be clear.”
“I’m not gonna fuckin’ cry over your stupid ass video—”
“Unfortunately, he’s a very emotional person. Very clingy, too.”
“I’m not clingy. You’re the one who spams me with texts while I’m on patrol!”
You dab concealer beneath your eyes as he defends himself against every accusation you make, and it becomes far too difficult to hide your laughter. You let out a soft giggle, and he throws you a very offended glare. (Yes, Katsuki is smart enough to know that this is a silly little joke on your part just to be funny. No, that does not stop him from treating this as a serious matter in which he has to protect his dignity. Lucky for you, that only makes for better views.)
“Now, some people might think breaking up with a pro hero wouldn’t be very smart for my brand, but luckily, mine is very easy to replace.”
“Easy to replace?”
You have to look away from him because the expression on his face is making it ten times harder to pretend to take this seriously, and you’re barely keeping a straight face. “There are lots of blonde men in the world, so I’m sure I’ll easily find someone else to fit the role.”
“Who the fuck are you gonna find better than me, huh?” He challenges, particularly irritated by that statement.
“As you can see, he’s already in denial.”
“Oi! Don’t ignore me!”
“Anger is the next stage of grief.”
The phone is grabbed before you can dab on your blush, and he spins you around, pinning you against the bathroom counter as he gives you a dirty look. You break into a fit of giggles, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press an innocent kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Hi, baby,” you hum.
He raises a brow. “Don’t hi baby me, dumbass. You make sure you tell that camera that you’ll never dump your boyfriend and that there’s no other man—blonde or not—like him, and—”
You roll your eyes, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a soft, slow kiss, cutting his words off effectively. He melts into you, kissing back as soon as your lips touch his, and you like to think that your silly idea only makes him kiss you a little more seriously. A little more meaningful, just to prove something.
“Don’t worry,” you peck the corner of his mouth, “I was just kidding. I’d never dump someone with pro hero money from the number five spot.”
— — — — —
“Get ready with me to get proposed to by my pro hero boyfriend!”
You beam at your phone camera from your vanity. Behind you, Katsuki is sprawled across the bed, one ankle hooked over the other, scrolling on his phone while sipping on his morning coffee. The coffee immediately goes down the wrong pipe.
He chokes, and a terribly strained coughing fit erupts from behind you. You almost feel bad for disrupting his peace on his day off—almost.
“Now, the proposal hasn’t been planned yet,” you explain to your hypothetical audience while reaching for your moisturizer, “but I’ve decided I want it to happen today.”
Another coughing fit. “What?”
“Katsuki, are you okay? You’re coughing a lot today. Do you have a cold?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, woman—what the fuck are you up to this time?”
You give him an innocent smile as you say, “Nothing!”
You’ve decided to keep this little game going for as long as you can—a new scheme whenever you can to keep him on his toes. Partially because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his reactions, but partially because, truthfully, you think seeing a softer, more human side of Katsuki will do him some wonders in the public eye. And what sort of doting girlfriend would you be if you didn’t take your chances at helping his public image?
“Why do you keep lying to your audience through these stupid videos?” he demands.
You gasp. “Lying?”
“Yes, lying,” he gives you a flat look, eyeing you like you’re crazy for denying the accusation.
“Why would this be a lie?” You challenge. Then, dramatically, you gasp, clutching your chest in mock hurt as you hiss, “So are you saying that you don't want to marry me?”
“W-what? I didn’t fuckin’ say that—don’t put words in my mouth—”
“So, I guess this video is now becoming a get-ready-with-me to get dumped, because apparently Katsuki wants to break up with me because he fell out of love with me and found someone new. I think he’s been emotionally cheating on me with someone—a sidekick, I’d bet. Always trust your gut, ladies—your gut never lies.”
“Hah?! You—” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he exhales tiredly and gives you a dry look. “You know what, that’s right. M’fuckin’ dumping your ass.”
You clap a hand over your mouth dramatically. “Everyone cancel him!”
— — — — —
“Get ready with me to make out with my pro hero boyfriend!”
You beam at your phone camera yet again. But today, for the first time in the history of these videos, there is no Katsuki behind you that is staring at you in disbelief or glaring at you in irritation. Instead, Katsuki is sitting on the bed, looking up from his phone as a wide, smug grin spreads across his face.
“Finally,” he says, setting his phone aside. “You thought of a good one.”
You blink. “Wait—”
“No, no, you can’t take shit back now. You wanna make out with your pro hero boyfriend, so that’s what your video is gonna be, baby.”
“Katsuki—”
He stands, hastily walking over as he says in approval, “Now we’re talkin. I like this video idea.”
He materializes in front of you, easily grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you up before he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. His lips start peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw as he works his way up to your lips. You melt against your will, giggling a little as you hiss (weakly), “Kats! We can’t…you can’t kiss me yet!”
“And why the fuck not, huh? You got some other boyfriend to kiss? Bring ‘im here, I can fight.”
“I have to get ready first,” you huff, shoving him lightly, “that’s the point of a get-ready-with-me? You have to wait till my makeup is done.”
“What’s the point in that?” He hums, pressing a soft, delicate peck to your lips before he murmurs, “s’just gonna be a waste of all your hard work when m’done with you, yeah baby?”
You shiver at the tone in his voice, pupils dilating as you stare at him. His eyes are twinkling with amusement as he gives you a wolfish grin, reaching over and locking your phone, and cutting the camera off from recording. This video might not end up getting posted at all, you think—this one might just break community guidelines.
content: one-shot! suggestive. crack. pro-hero!bakugou. reader is very shameless, bkg is flustered & angry about it lol. wc: 0.9k.
note: this is so stupid but im crine at the thought of doing this
masterlist | say hi!
You’re staring.
You had been, for a while. Lips pursing, gaze not even attempting to be discreet.
As if paperwork wasn’t already excruciating enough, Katsuki was stuck doing it with you on the other side of his desk, staring at his fucking crotch as he leaned over the table, propped up by a hand.
“Quit it.”
You looked up for a moment, watching as he straightened out, folding his arms over his chest. “Quit what?”
Not believing your little confused act for a second, he sneered. “Being a pervert.”
As per-usual, you weren’t the least bit affected by his harsh tone, giving him an exasperated look as if he was the crazy one.
“I’m just catching print.”
You didn’t bother to elaborate beyond that, eyes going back to being glued between his legs.
His teeth grind together. “You’re what?”
Katsuki knew you had gone to lengths before to get on his nerves, but this unabashed leering was a new low. Even for you.
He could feel you tracing every curve, each fold of the fabric as you scrutinized the outline of what was right under.
“Catching. Print.” you repeated it back to him slowly, talking down to him like it was his fault for not knowing whatever bullshit you were on about now.
“The fuck does that mean?”
Your eyes finally peeled away from him, seemingly satisfied, now focusing on your pen gliding across your paper.
He didn’t miss the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth as you answered.
“It’s this method to guesstimate dick size. Foolproof.”
For a moment, he felt warm. He swallowed, feeling his heart stutter in his chest. For a moment, he was weak. Because that’s what you did to him— you found a way to worm under his skin, you leeched off of him acting like an idiot.
He slumped down onto his chair and dug his pen into the paper in front of him, signing to the bottom with enough pressure to nearly tear through the parchment.
He grabbed the next document harshly, shooting you a glare through furrowed brows.
“You really are a pervert.”
“Well, never said I wasn’t.”
Something about the unbothered acceptance in your voice made his jaw tic. “You don’t see me starin’ at your—”
He made a vague gesture towards your chest, that spontaneous need to one-up you leaving his body the very second he actually looked; the very tips of his ears dusted pink. The corner of his mouth twitched as though itching to say the word, but he couldn’t quite get it out.
You cocked your head to the side, leaning in by pushing closer into the desk between the two of you, your chest pressing against the edge of it. “My boobs?”
He didn’t know how to respond, stuck with his eyes darting from down there back to your slowly curving lips.
You forced that smile back as quickly as it came, feigning consideration while tapping your chin, looking off to the side. “I mean, you can.”
You said it so casually. Like that was something he could really do, like that wouldn’t mean anything. You were already going back to your paperwork, unaffected while his stomach was flipping at even just the thought.
He hated it, hated how stupid you got him.
“You’re so fucking shameless.” he bit out.
“Hey," your lower lip jutted a little. "Only honest.”
He forced his attention back to the same document he had been on for the past fifteen minutes before letting himself speak again.
“What’s your stupid method say ‘bout me, huh?”
“Definitely an A.”
“What?”
You offered him a grin. “You’re an A!”
“I heard you the first time, dipshit.” he practically seethed. “Doesn’t explain what the hell that’s supposed to mean.”
You sighed, as if whatever you said was meant to make sense. It was when you moved to stand up that he noticed you had finished signing your final document.
He spared a quick glance at his own pile; barely halfway through.
“So, you can either be an A, a B, or a D.” you explained, counting out the three options on your fingers after you finished straightening out your pile of paper.
An A, you said. The first letter of the alphabet. That had to be a good thing, right?
Katsuki had the initial instinct to feel proud before he noticed that gleam in your eye: all smug, testing.
You always did get something out of pushing his buttons. His eyes narrowed as you gathered up your completed paperwork in one hand.
“That’s smallest to biggest.” you continued, matter of fact, a small frown on your face as if sorry for him. You circled around the desk, coming behind him.
“S’okay, though.” You gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “Your ego almost makes up for it.”
Just like that, you were stepping out of the office room, leaving him behind to process what the fuck you just implied.
You were already in the elevator down the hall when you heard the crackle of a small explosion, followed by a door slamming open.
You watched Katsuki’s enraged stomping figure getting closer and closer as you pressed the close door button calmly and gave him a small smile, waving with your free hand as the double doors shut right in his livid face.
The slamming of his furious fists against the door grew quieter as the elevator moved down, and you let yourself laugh.
Of course, you had lied, just to get a rise out of him. Because, what you really caught?
An undeniable D.
DIVIDER CREDS — cafekitsune !
may blabs: catching print is in fact revolutionary btw.
ty to briar ( @cupidkats ) for beta reading ilu twin ❤️🩹❤️🩹
honestly, i think the first time bakugou sleeps with you he’s almost overwhelmed by feeling. he finally has you right where he wants you, and the words just start tumbling out of him, awkward at first, his throat swelling around the sheer wonder that you like him back.
“how the fuck do people fall in love all the time?” he asks as he runs a hand over your waist, the other hitching your thigh around his hip. “feel like my chest is gonna fuckin’ explode every time I look at you.”
you smile wide and pull him down for a kiss. you kiss him in a way he didn’t know was possible, with desperation and deftness, like you’ve been kissing him in your dreams for months.
you guide his palm over your racing heart, and his own starts thumping like mad at the pet name.
“the feelings mutual, kats."
“i dunno, y/n." he shakes his head ruefully, searching for the words. "feels like I’m holdin’ an entire universe when you’re in my arms.”
immediately, your eyes well with tears. he starts to sputter, horrified he said something wrong. you cut him off with another kiss.
“you stupidly perfect romantic idiot,” is all you say, and he's not entirely sure if that's a good thing. he's not good at this, and this moment is probably exactly why, because he can't stop looking down at you and thinking something akin to gratitude.
you see him. all of him.
and you want him this desperately still.
so when he finally rocks inside you, both of your hands entwined with his, he has to suppress the i love you that bubbles in his chest.
(you already know. you've known forever, honestly, have probably loved him even longer, this stubborn, gorgeous, kind man whose every mannerism grew around your heart like a weed.)
so you say it first, and he's never loved you more.
now, katsuki is used to calls in the middle of the night.
as a top 10 pro hero, he expects them. crisis don't wait for him to have six hours of sleep before happening, nor do villains and criminals. he's used to sometimes not having a blink of sleep, so much so that when his phone rings at three in the morning, he squints awake and slurs to the speaker after nearly getting blinded by the light of the screen, "where?"
of course, where. the details, in a crisis, are secondary, but if he needs to be anywhere he has to know where to go. a stutter on the line, "uuh... is this bakugou katsuki speaking?"
katsuki blinks — this doesn't sound like his secretary, and if they aren't, they better have a good reason for waking him up at three in the fucking morning. "yeah, it is. why, you got the wrong number or somethin'?" he grunts.
there's shuffling on the other end. "um, no. this is musutafu central hospital calling. your wife took a hit during patrol and is now in surgery and stable, but we always need to call the closest relative even if in your line of work it's probably the norm."
the norm? you haven't been hit so bad that you needed to go to the hospital in years, let alone needed surgery. the nerve this woman has is too much for sleep-deprived bakugou, who just hangs up in her face as she rambles on about how much of a fan of his she is — is this girl an intern? did they just give his number to a rando?
you'll need clothes, he figures while throwing some of your shirts and pants in a duffel bag, as well as probably a little pick-me-up — he'll pass by the store on the way to the hospital. can you even eat snacks right out of surgery? he has no idea, but he'll smuggle in a whole pack of snickers bars anyways.
you had patrol last — this — night. they suck, but they have to happen at least twice a week, and nothing this serious has ever happened before. your husband is worried, of course, but as much as he is, he knows you can handle yourself and your opponents pretty well, and a hospital visit shouldn't undermine your worth.
he arrives at the hospital twenty minutes later, and goes up to the front desk with all the tension that a husband worried for his wife can have, "i'm looking for my wife — she should've been admitted earlier this morning before going for surgery."
the receptionist asks him for your name and looks it up on her computer, before smiling cordially at him, "oh, congratulations! your wife was just checked into the maternity ward. room 202, first floor,"
bakugou squints at her. now, he doesn't know a lot about hospitals, but surely you're in no maternity ward — he saw you yesterday evening before your shift and you didn't look pregnant at all. "i think i would notice if my wife was pregnant. check again, you must've gotten it wrong."
the receptionist frowns, looks again at her computer and shakes her head, "nope. room 202, maternity ward, first floor. i... sometimes it can happen."
katsuki doesn't think that babies can happen in the span of mere hours, but he's too tired to complain again. the hospital must've been full and just put you in the first room available, he figures, not caring about which ward you were in as long as you were put in a room.
he finds room 202 pretty easily and steps in without even knocking — it's not like he could see anything he's never seen before. "hey, the hospital called me a while ago to tell me you were in surgery, i brought you clothes and snacks and—"
he stops in his tracks, looking at the most tired version of you he's ever seen. you're laying on the bed, left arm bandaged and right arm with an IV on it. you've got a thick blanket on your chest, which your arms rest on. "...hi," he says tentatively, feeling like he's missed something big, "um... what happened to your arm?"
he's calm now, but you know that in the morning — once the sleepiness wears off and he finally is conscious about his bearings, he'll start yelling about the guy who scratched your arm and about how he's going to blow him up. thankfully, he's still not at the best of his capacity yet.
"katsuki," you say, weary. he stands up straighter. "remember the stomach ache i had yesterday?"
he frowns, "was that it? i told you to call out of work, you weren't feeling that well. damn you, woman, you never listen to me— was it appendicitis? food poisoning?"
"katsuki." you murmur again, a little firmer this time. he's getting real worried for sure, now. "what is it? it's too early for a fucking guessing game — you just got hospitalised!"
you sigh, clearly not knowing how to tell him whatever it is you're afflicted with. his mind's swarming with possibilities — is it chronic? are you dying? is it cancer? the only thing he knows is that it's never lupus.
you opt for the simplest way of revealing it to him: with your hand you lift up the blanket over your chest and reveal a soft tuft of blonde hair, "this is... well, i was hoping we could choose a name together."
bakugou blinks and bluntly blurts out, "whose baby is that? did you steal a baby?"
"of course not, dumbass! i didn't know i was pregnant!"
"how did you not know you were pregnant?" he drops the bag, hands going to his hair, "how did i not know you were pregnant? did i just miss the birth of our firstborn?"
miwa — who is barely thirty minutes old and already has her daddy wrapped around her finger — is a little rascal who just hid. in your belly. for nine months. she has to thank the universe that you don't drink and haven't taken any rough hits on the job these past few months, because everything about a cryptic pregnancy seems to bakugou like a voluntary gamble on life on the fetus' part.
she was pretty lucky to have an awesome mom like you, too, because katsuki's pretty sure that he would freak out if he went to the hospital for an arm injury, also told the doctor about stomach pains and then just had to birth a whole ass baby.
no wonder hime went unnoticed, though — she's so small she fits in her father's hand without struggle. she's got a blue onesie on — you didn't go to the ER prepared for a baby, so the new mother next room kindly told the nurses to take one of her baby's onesies for the mom in room 202 who didn't even know she was pregnant— thanks, random mom, you will be remembered and you will receive fresh-out of the oven croissants from that bougie patisserie uptown in the morning.
as you take a well-deserved nap, katsuki finds himself holding the kid who just turned his life upside down on one arm while he calls his mother — nevermind that it's now four in the morning and she'll probably go for blood as soon as she wakes up.
"KATSUKI!" just as expected, "YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS CALL, BECAUSE I WAS HAVING THE BEST DREAM EVER AND YOU WAKING ME UP WASN'T INCLUDED!"
"hi, mom," he says, quieter than ever as he stares at his little girl sleeping with her lips parted, "do you still have those onesies you got when you first found out you were pregnant? the girl ones?"
"WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT? DID YOU REALLY JUST CALL ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO ASK ME ABOUT CLOTHES I BOUGHT TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO? YOU'VE SURELY GOT SOME NERVE! THEY WOULDN'T HAVE FIT YOU WHEN YOU WERE A KID BECAUSE YOU WERE SUCH A FAT BABY, LET ALONE NOW, WHY ARE YOU EVEN—"
"mom," he interrupts her, "we just had a baby. you guys are grandparents."
silence on the other line. "you know, this is a really bad joke, katsuki. i woke up your father to yell at you and you tell me this? i saw you guys last week. none of you looked pregnant at all."
he rolls his eyes — yeah, like he could get pregnant. "well, it's true. my wife just gave birth and we're at the hospital, with no newborn equipment nor half an idea of how to raise a baby. so, will you bring me those damn onesies or not, mom?"
hushed whispers on the other line, a distinct what's going on? from masaru. "i... be there in thirty."
for someone who was just screaming at him twenty minutes ago, mitsuki bakugou looks far too happy to hold her granddaughter in her arms. "look at her!" she gushes as masaru cries rivers of tears and snaps a billion photos, "she's so little! she's not fat like you were! not even one hour of life and she's already better than you!"
were it someone else, katsuki would've gotten mad, but miwa's face is so tender that he can't picture himself ever getting angry at her. "she is," he replies quietly. grandma and grandpa bring all the pink onesies that mitsuki had bought impulsively before finding out she was going to have a boy, and so hime finally gets the pink clothing and gigantic bow on the head that she deserves — bakugou will admit that if he didn't know she was a girl, he would've mistaken her for a boy with the blue onesie. are all newborns so weird-looking? is it just his?
katsuki has to wake you up when the nurse comes for feeding time, and mitsuki and masaru quietly move out of the room after congratulating you with teary eyes and the biggest smiles you've ever seen. and as your husband places your now very awake newborn girl on your chest and looks at the two of you like you hang the moon and the stars, you think that this must be the biggest surprise everyone's ever gotten.
The room is noisy in that unique way that only a girls' night out can be—soft music playing, snacks strewn about, one girl braiding the hair of another. The summer heat still lingers on your skin from the whole day spent outside, but the air conditioning is humming quietly while you all lie sprawled out on beds and the floor.
The chatter begins innocently. Crushes, then relationships, then the details.
“Okay but—” Mina flops onto her stomach, kicking her feet in the air, eyes locking onto you with a grin that’s way too knowing. “I need to understand something.”
You already know where this is going.
She props her chin in her hands. “What is so good about Bakugou?”
The room goes quiet for half a second, and then explodes.
“Right?!” Asui’s voice echoes faintly from the other room.
“He’s so mean!” Hagakure adds.
“He is intense, but I can imagine he’s different when you get close to him,” Yaoyorozu corrects politely, though she looks just as curious.
All eyes land on you.
You roll your eyes, grabbing a chip just to give yourself a second. “You guys don’t know him like I do.”
Mina narrows her eyes. “That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
And for a moment, you don’t answer.
Because yeah—on the outside? They’re not wrong.
You think about the first time he snapped at you during training, his sharp words, harsh tone, not even looking at you when he walked off. You remember standing there, embarrassed, annoyed and a little hurt.
You’d ignored him the rest of the day.
Until later.
Until he showed up at your door that night, he didn’t knock, he just stood there when you opened it, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“…You were off your game,” he muttered.
You’d stared at him. “Wow. That’s a great apology.”
His scowl deepened. “That wasn’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. Then, quieter, rougher, “I pushed you too hard.”
That had surprised you more than anything.
Bakugou didn’t say sorry easily. Even after all these years together he didn’t say it cleanly. But he’d stood there anyway, awkward and stubborn, refusing to leave until you let him in.
And then he stayed in your dorm, he didn’t say much. Except the large arms wrapped around you spoke larger volumes.
You blink back to the present, realizing everyone’s still waiting.
Mina waves a hand in front of your face, smirking. “Helloooo? You just zoned out thinking about him, didn’t you?”
A few giggles ripple through the room.
You sigh, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips now.
“He’s…a lot that’s for sure” you admit.
“Understatement of the year,” Jirou mutters.
“But,” you continue, sitting up a little straighter, “he always makes it right.”
They quiet down again.
You think about another time, when he forgot something important. A date, the day of your first date to be more specific. Not even a big one, just something that mattered to you. You hadn’t told him, but you’d hoped he’d remember.
He didn’t.
It was the silent treatment for him yet again.
But the next morning? He cornered you before class, clearly already irritated—at himself, not you.
“…I screwed up.”
No excuses, and certainly no deflecting. That wasn’t his style.
Then, later that week, he dragged you out—complaining the whole time—only for it to turn into something ridiculously thought out. Your favorite food, your favorite spot, things you’d mentioned once in passing.
The whole day revolved around you, he bought everything you wanted, despite your protests. And he even managed to smile.
He remembered, just a day late.
“…He messes up sometimes,” you say now, softer. “A lot, actually.”
Mina raises a brow like exactly.
“But he never half-asses fixing it, we all know that about him,” you add. “If he thinks he hurt me, he goes overboard trying to make it up.”
There’s a pause.
You glance down at your hands, then shrug lightly. “He doesn’t do things the normal way. But he cares. A lot.”
“Like, scary a lot,” you mumble under your breath.
Jirou snorts.
Yaoyorozu hums thoughtfully. “That does sound like him, in a way.”
Hagakure leans forward. “Okay but like, does he ever say anything nice??”
You hesitate.
Then you huff out a quiet laugh.
“Not really,” you admit. “At least not like you’d expect.”
Mina groans dramatically. “Girl—”
“But,” you cut in, “he shows it.”
And you don’t say more than that.
You don’t mention the way he always walks slightly behind you or beside you in crowded places, always making sure you’re in his line of sight. Always aligning his body to slightly shield you whenever you stop to look at something.
Or how he memorized your schedule without telling you.
Or how his hand always finds yours when no one’s looking.
Across the room, Mina studies you for a second longer then slowly grins.
“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re so down bad.”
Heat rushes to your face. “Shut up, you asked.”
The room bursts into laughter again, the tension breaking just like that.
But as the noise picks back up, your phone buzzes quietly beside you.
You glance down.
Suki: You ate?
You smile small and automatic.
And type back: Yeah. Did you?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Suki: Don’t worry about me. Just don’t skip meals, idiot.
You roll your eyes, but your chest feels warm.
Yeah.
They don’t get it.
But you do.
—
UA HIGH COMMON ROOMS:
The other common room next door is packed tonight, third years have way more freedom, which apparently means more chaos. Someone’s got music playing, Kaminari’s laughing too loud at something dumb, and Kirishima is in the middle of what looks like a very serious “bro discussion.”
Which quickly turns into everyone ganging up on one person.
“Alright, Bakugou,” Kaminari says, pointing like he’s finally cracked a mystery. “From man to fellow man, enough dodging.”
Across the room, Katsuki Bakugou barely glances up from his drink. “I’m not dodging anything. You’re just annoying.”
“Bro,” Sero cuts in, “you literally have a girlfriend.”
Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “…So?”
“So??” Kaminari practically launches off the couch. “SO—how?!”
Kirishima leans forward, grinning. “C’mon, man, we’re in our last year and half of us are still single. Help us out.”
Bakugou scoffs. “Skill issue.”
“THAT’S NOT ADVICE,” Kaminari yells.
Shouji chuckles. “Seriously though, what did you even do? Like how’d you pull her?”
That gets a reaction.
Bakugou’s glare sharpens instantly. “The hell do you mean ‘pull’?”
“Okay, bad wording—” Shouji starts.
“Yeah, real bad,” Kirishima mutters.
Bakugou clicks his tongue, leaning back like this is already a waste of time. “You idiots act like it’s some game.”
“…Is it not?” Sero asks.
“No,” Bakugou says flatly. “That’s why you keep screwing it up.”
There’s a pause.
Kirishima crosses his arms, still smiling but more thoughtful now. “Alright, then what is it?”
Bakugou doesn’t answer right away.
For a second, his gaze shifts—just slightly—toward the hallway. Or, more accurately the room that the hallway leads to.
Then he looks back, expression settling into something firm.
“…You stop acting like you need one,” he says.
Kaminari blinks. “What?”
“If you’re desperate, it shows,” Bakugou continues. “And it’s annoying as hell.”
Sero groans. “Great. So we’re doomed.”
“Pretty much,” Bakugou mutters.
Kirishima chuckles. “C’mon, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”
Bakugou exhales sharply, like he’s debating whether to even bother.
“…You find someone who can actually keep up,” he says finally. “Not just in fights. In everything.”
“Everything?” Kaminari echoes.
“Yeah. Someone who doesn’t back down every time you push them. Someone who calls you out when you’re being an idiot.”
There’s a beat.
Sero raises a brow. “I know damn well she does that to you.”
Bakugou shoots him a look. “Watch it.”
Kirishima grins wider. “Sounds kinda perfect for you, man.”
Bakugou doesn’t deny it.
Instead, he keeps going, voice a little lower now, but still steady.
“You don’t lie to her. You don’t play games. If you screw up, you fix it.” His jaw tightens slightly. “And you don’t half-ass it.”
Kaminari tilts his head. “…You’ve screwed up before?”
Bakugou glares. “Obviously. I’m not you—I actually learn from it.”
“HEY—”
Sero laughs under his breath. “So what, you just… pay attention and don’t be an idiot?”
“Exactly,” Bakugou says.
They all stare at him.
“…That sounds too simple,” Kaminari says.
“That’s because you overcomplicate everything,” Bakugou snaps. “It’s not about impressing her with stupid crap. It’s about knowing her.”
“Knowing what matters to her,” he adds. “Even the small stuff. That’s all really.”
The room goes still again.
Kirishima’s smile softens a little. “You really like her, huh?”
Bakugou doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
It’s blunt, just like how he normally is. No embarrassment, no hesitation.
Kaminari exhales dramatically. “Man…we’re never catching up. Why do you gotta be so damn good at everything?”
Sero nods. “Yeah, we’re done for.”
Bakugou snorts, standing up and stretching like the conversation’s over. “Damn right you are.”
Kirishima laughs. “At least give us one last tip, man.”
Bakugou glances back at them, already halfway to leaving.
“…Don’t look for someone like mine,” he says.
They perk up instantly.
“Why not?” Kaminari asks.
Bakugou smirks—sharp, a little cocky, but not entirely joking.
“Because you won’t find her,” he says. “There’s only one.”
And with that, he walks off.
The boys sit there in stunned silence for about two seconds.
“HE’S SO GATEKEEPING, LEMME AT HIM!” Mineta shouts.
“BRO DID NOT JUST SAY THAT—”
“NAH, I RESPECT IT,” Kirishima laughs.
But Bakugou’s already gone, hands in his pockets, heading down the hall.
And when he spots you at the far end, leaning against the wall, waiting like you knew he’d show up, his whole expression shifts, just slightly.
“Finally,” he mutters as he reaches you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
—
YOUR DORM ROOM:
Your dorm room is quieter than the rest of the floor, soft music playing low, lights dimmed just enough to feel calm after the chaos of the night.
You’re sitting against your headboard, legs stretched out, while Katsuki Bakugou lies across your bed with his head in your lap like it’s the most natural place in the world.
It kind of is for him.
Your fingers move absentmindedly through his blond hair, slow and gentle. For a guy who doesn’t care about his hair, it’s surprisingly soft.
“They’re all idiots.”
You huff a small laugh, not even surprised. “Which ones?”
“All of them,” he mutters instantly.
You smile a little, looking down at him. “That narrows it down.”
He cracks one eye open to glare up at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t play dumb. Your little gossip session was loud as hell.”
“Oh please,” you scoff. “Like yours wasn’t?”
That earns a quiet ‘tch’, but he doesn’t deny it.
There’s a brief pause, your hand still combing through his hair.
“They asked me how to get a girl,” he says flatly.
You blink. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” His lip curls slightly. “Like I’m gonna give them some step-by-step guide or some shit.”
You laugh softly. “What did you say?”
“That they’re screwed.”
“Wow. Helpful.”
“They are,” he insists, shifting just slightly so he’s more comfortable against you. “They keep overthinking everything. Acting like it’s some big strategy.”
You tilt your head. “And you don’t?”
He snorts. “Hell no.”
Your fingers pause for a second before continuing. “The girls asked me about you.”
That gets his attention.
Both eyes open now, sharp red flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?”
You hum. “Mina wanted to know what’s ‘so good’ about you.”
His brows knit together immediately. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
You grin. “Her words, not mine.”
He clicks his tongue, looking away again. “Extras don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Mm,” you murmur. “That’s what I said too. Of course minus the extra.”
There’s a small silence after that, comfortable, warm.
Then he speaks again, quieter this time.
“…They don’t get it.”
You look down at him, softer now. “No. They don’t.”
Your hand slows in his hair, tracing lightly along his scalp, and he exhales, barely noticeable, but you feel it.
“They think it’s about saying the right crap,” he continues. “Or acting a certain way.”
You nod faintly. “The girls said something similar.”
“Tch.” His jaw tightens just a little. “It’s not.”
You don’t interrupt this time.
“You just…know,” he says, like it’s obvious. “When it’s right.”
Your chest tightens slightly at that, but you keep your voice light. “Oh yeah? And how’d you figure that out?”
He goes quiet.
For a second, you think he won’t answer.
“You didn’t back down.”
You blink.
He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixed somewhere off to the side, but his voice is steady.
“Everyone else either got pissed off or avoided me,” he mutters. “You didn’t.”
A small smile tugs at your lips.
“You kept up,” he adds. “Called me out when I was being an ass.”
“Which is often,” you tease.
He huffs. “Yeah, yeah.”
Your fingers brush lightly against his temple, softer now.
“And you didn’t treat me like I was too much,” he finishes, quieter than before.
You swallow slightly, your chest warm. “You are a lot, you know.”
His eyes flick back up to you, a faint smirk forming. “Didn’t say I wasn’t.”
You shake your head, smiling.
“They’d never get it,” he mutters again.
You raise a brow. “Wow. Still on that?”
“Yeah,” he says simply. “They’re all looking for something easy.”
“…You’re not easy.”
You snort. “Gee, thanks.”
“Not like that,” he says, annoyed. “I mean you’re not fake. You don’t just go along with shit.”
Your hand stills for a second in his hair. “And I like that,” he adds, quieter.
You smile softly, resuming your gentle motions. “Good. Because I’m not changing.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
Another comfortable silence settles over the room.
Outside, you can hear faint laughter from the rest of the dorms, but here, it feels like your own little world.
After a minute, you glance down at him again.
“So,” you murmur, teasing, “you really told them they’ll never find someone like me?”
A pause.
Then he scoffs, looking away again, but there’s a hint of something smug there.
“It’s true.”
You laugh quietly, shaking your head.
“Cocky,” you whisper.
“Realistic,” he corrects.
Your fingers slide through his hair one more time, slow and fond.
deaf!bakugou likes to feel the vibrations of your body.
to paint a clear picture, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and you two are in resting in bed after a few rounds of making love (and consoling your fiancée when he started tearing up and signing about how he was fucking pissed he couldn’t hear you moaning his name)
the sun’s orange glow as it sets just outside your window beams a gorgeous light onto you both, glistening with sweat. it’s a comfortable few minutes before you remember a juicy story you’d overheard earlier that day, and you gently tap the space next to your lover (you didn’t have to though cuz he was already staring at you with cheesy adoration).
you slightly pull yourself away from his beefy chest to begin expressively signing your daily piece of gossip. you always speak out loud when you sign, even though you know he can’t hear you. and as you’re signing with speedily, facial expressions big and enthusiastic, katsuki’s eyes dart to your lips every two seconds, nostalgically remembering the sound of your gorgeous voice before the war.
he huffs, signing wait. you pause with confusion before he shuffles forward so two of his fingers could rest on your throat. he feels you swallow and a little grin writes itself upon his face. he gives you a tiny nod to continue. and he smiles at the heavy buzzing against his digits.
