heat up— where Bakugo doesn’t realize what he does to you, or what you do to him.
k. bakugo x reader, still in UA so no smut, cute little oneshot ,i usually like making things with better plots but this is my guilty pleasure, and my 100 followers special.
you and bakugo have been friends for years.
despite his rough edges, when he gains a friendship, he’s always there to stay.
that’s why you love him so much.
for all his brilliance, katsuki is emotionally dull.
he doesn’t realize how nervous he makes you, he doesn’t realize how cooking for you everyday isn’t something only a friend would do, and he certainly doesn’t realize when training with you became more than just fights.
to you, it was something too intimate. you felt your heart hammer against your chest every time his shirt would rise up, soot from his quirk dusting all over his torso.
if things kept going the way they did, if he kept tackling tou to the ground without any care in the world, you might just combust.
it has to come to a stop.
you’re laying in your room, eyes fixed on your ceiling when he barges in.
“‘suki!” you reprimand, sitting up in your bed. “what if i was changing?”
he rolls his eyes, waving you off dismissively. “ well you weren’t changing and i have more important shit to say.”
you hated how he always glossed over intimate things like this. it’s almost like he never saw you.
“what’s so important that you have to barge in my room?”
he shuts the door behind him, and you’re fully aware now that it’s just the two of you, in your dorm.
he probably doesn’t see it that way.
you let out a sigh, of course it was to train.
that’s all he ever thought about.
“what?” his brows furrow, “why not?”
you lay back on your bed, pulling your covers back up. “i’m beat tonight.” you even let out a yawn, trying to come off as sleepy.
he stands there akwardly, waiting for you to maybe change your mind. “oh. well, we can do it tomorrow then.”
you snuggle deeper into your bed.“goodnight kats.”
the next morning, you’re up earlier than normal, groggily heading to the common room, sleep still in your eyes.
phase two of putting some distance required you to figure out your own meals. no matter how hard it was to stop eating his.
you settled on fried oreos.
yes. fried oreos, because that’s all you knew how to make.
maybe if you closed your eyes while eating it, you could pretend it was a nice, spicy bowl of curry, or soft, gooey waffles.
but katsuki won’t let you.
you’re mid bite when you hear him stomp down to the kitchen, irritation vibrating off of him.
he stops in front of you, staring at your food judgementally.
you attempt to look up at him, but everytime you make eye contact, something flutters jn your chest.
so keeping your head down is your best best.
katsuki falters for a moment, the frown on his face deepening.
“okay,” he mumbles, walking inside the kitchen. “I don’t care, eat whatever dumb junk food you want.”
a few hours later, everyone’s downstairs for breakfast, you’re still sitting at the dining, trying to stomach your oreos.
but there’s raw batter between bites, oozing into your mouth, which was already covered in soggy oreos.
“damn, bakubro!” you hear kirishima’s voice come out the kitchen, as bakugo walks out.
in his hand, a large tray of all your favorite foods, slammed down with a huge thud! on the dining a space across from you.
perfect for eye contact, horrible for avoidance.
you look up at the food and quickly look back down.
katsuki’s glare is burning straight at your forehead.
“can i have some?” kirishima asks, pointing at a bowl of stir fired rice.
your mouth waters at the smell.
it’s probably extra spicy, he probably put caramelized the onions to perfection— the chicken is probably glazed perfectly with honey, and if you stay here another minute you’ll be tempted to eat more.
“but you’re not gonna eat this all yourself?!”
katsuki’s eyes flickered back to you.
you jump out of your seat.
his head whips around to you, attention snatched from kirishima.
“where the hell you going?!”
your hands wrap around your stomach and you begin to crouch, a pained look on your face.
“m-my stomach, I gotta go!”
you dash upstairs before he can react, not to mention respond.
kirishima quirks a brow, looking back at the spot you sat in, then at katsuki.
what a stupid fucking question.
no. nothing is okay right now.
katsuki’s hand tightens impossibly into the edges of his seat, jaw clenched.
you collapse in your bed soon after, face burried into your pillow because you’re this close to screaming.
these feelings are onky getting worse, and your guilt is eating at you everytime you spot the confusion on his face.
but he was the one doing the confusing.
he was the one making your tummy flutter and your head ache.
not the other way around.
your hand slides down to your stomach.
all this faking is really starting to blur the lines between acting and reality.
maybe you manifested this, because pain is squeezing at your stomach.
you feel wet and sloshy in your pants, and something is trickling down your pants.
this day really couldn’t get any damn worse.
“alright,” aizawa sighs, lazily clapping his hands together. “today is another training session, however, instead of set partners, or randomized partners, you get to pick.”
as soon as the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets it, the whole class breaks out into whoops and excited chatter.
“ugh— try not to make me regret this,” he looks around the room. “otherwise you all with regret it.”
whatever. katsuki thinks, inwardly rolling his eyes.
his signature scowl is still printed on his face, like he’s always annoyed about something, but right now he’s sort of happy.
this time, you’ll have no excuse to reject training, as long as noone else asks him, or you.
but speaking of you, where did you go?
he swivels his head around, kirishima next to him, asking him to partner up, but he merely responds, “fuck no.”
denki’s dumbass is already dabbing up hanta, lida is doing whatever, todoroki he doesn’t care for, and there’s a whole bunch of extras he doesn’t remember the name of.
“pleaseee bro? everyone’s already partnered up.”
his hands twich at his side.
katsuki’s frown deepens. “y/n.”
“i don’t know, haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
he glances at the door, maybe you’re running late.
but two minutes, three, five goes by and he’s the only one in the center of the gym, all alone.
aizawa’s tired eyes shift back over to him, “i counted an even number, you should have a partner.”
he merely clicks his tongue. “well, i don’t.”
aizawa points to kirishima.
training with kirishima isn’t necessarily horrible.
kirishima is his friend, probably would be his best friend if you didn’t already take up that position.
he doesn’t laugh at his jokes, then match then up with something equally as funny.
he doesn’t pretend to smile about something then lean over to whisper in his ears just how much you hate it.
kirishima doesn’t roll make his chest flutter, because kirishima is just his friend.
and you’re… his best friend.
his head snaps to the side from a punch, something he could’ve obviously dodged.
because this isn’t like training with you.
“ fuck bakubro, you okay?” kirishima turns off his quirk, hardened body reverting back to normal as he approaches a stunned katsuki.
“you haven’t been paying attention all day, the hell’s the matter with you?”
katsuki keeps his hair down, spiky hair flattened with sweat, running down his forehead.
“huh?” kirishima walks closer, “why what?”
it’s all so stupid, he should be focusing on training, not whatever weird ass mood you’re in.
“let’s go again,” katsuki cracks his knuckles, lifting his head back up, a determined spark ignites back in his eyes.
kirishima grins. “that’s great! you’re back to normal!”
but it’s not for the reason kirishima thinks it is.
katsuki is determined to find out what’s up with you.
what the hell crawled up in your ass and died?
that’s the question he asks you, storming right into your dorm. you have your door unlocked again, it’s a habit he scolds you for so many times, but this time he’s glad you’re so forgetful.
you groan seeing him stomp in again.
was there really no escaping him?
he pronounces every syllable like you’re deaf, leaning closer, “ what. crawled. up. your. ass.”
“no— i heard you the first time, when i said what, i meant what the fuck are you talking about.”
“you know what i’m talking about, y-you’re—“
your eyes screw shut in pain, your grip on the hot water bottle pressed against your stomach tightens under the sheets.
just listening to him almost as you doubling over in pain, and he expects you to listen to him?
“i’m what?” you snap, face contorted in pain.
“you’re being weird! there, i fuckin said it, you’re acting weird and i don’t like it— cone clean right now or—“
his face morphs into a mix of anger and pain.
“ or you can kiss my fucking ass! i don’t wanna be friends if you can’t be honest with me!”
“you’re litteraly making no sense right now, how the fuck am i acting weird bakugo?”
he’s almost at a loss for words, sputtering and tumbling sentences.
“bakugo? i’m bakugo now?” his voice is getting louder. “that’s another fuck ass example of you being weird!”
you almost laugh at the audacity. “oh, so i’m being weird for calling you by your name?”
“yes you fucking are, you’re weird, you’re behaving odd and you’re lying straight through your teeth!”
the tension in your stomach is only growing tighter, the tension of the room thicker.
“ what did i even do that classifies as weird?”
“you skipped training yesterday, you barely responded to me, you skipped breakfast and ate bullshit oreos, that i know you didn’t like— and now you’re here avoiding me again. you knew aizawa was going to let us pick partners, so you stayed back and faked sick so you wouldn’t have to partner up with me.”
his tone is so accusatory, like he knows everything in the world, and you canybelp but lash out.
your attempts to save yourself of heartache and move on were now classified as weird, your stomach cramps an excuse to not see him.
for fucks sake, who did he think he was?
“you are insufferable,” you scoff.
“if you don’t wanna be my friend fucking say that! then we can both move the fuck on and you can stop pretending!”
“i don’t want to be your friend anymore! there, i said it—
“i hate being just your friend, i hate feeling more than friendship for you and knowing you only see me as your goddamn friend! so take your friendship and shove it up your ass!”
tears are running down your face, and katsuki backs up, unsure of what to do.
he’s never been rendered speechless before.
“you are so self absorbed and into yourself, you never notice how you affect other people! you cook for me, but me things, treat me differently and then tell me i’m just your friend—“
you rip the sheets off of your body, exposing the heat pack and meds, his eyes losing all the heat as he realizes.
you stand up from the bed, every word you say is a step closer to him, while he walks backwards from you.
“i know you don’t feel the same way, you only see me as your fucking friend so leave me alone and stop leading me on and looking at me with those fucking stupid ass eyes!”
you pull the door open and push him out, watching him stumble backwards.
“and for the record— i wasn’t avoiding you, i was dealing with my fucking period, not everything is about you asshole!”
you slam the door shut, remembering to lock it and slide back against it.
today got so much more worse than you ever thought it could.
it’s been well over a month since you two have spoken.
katsuki can’t remember the last time you looked him square in the eyes after that day, or stay near him.
being completely honest— he misses you.
he misses everything about you— down to your awful cooking.
he hates that he can’t go see you whenever he wants. he hates how apprehensive he is around your dorm room, when a few weeks ago he would have pushed it open with no care in the world.
there’s really nothing stopping him from opening your door, other than the fear of it being locked.
because that really means there’s no getting to you.
he’s sitting around his group of extras, his face leaning on his palm, a bored look on his face.
denki and kirishima shoot worried looks at eachother, they’re the ones the most concerned about his prolonged silence— but in reality the whole table has noticed.
denki starts first, clearing his throat.
nothing. not even a glance.
kirishima tries this time, poking at his friends shoulder.
“hello?” he waves a tanned hand in the other’s face, “earth to bakubro?”
a few weeks ago, bakugo might have started screaming, his whole face turning red in annoyance, but today?
all he does is swatt his hand away and get up.
his friends are at a loss, he’s at a loss, and as he lays in his bed, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, his eyes grow misty.
there’s so many thoughts whirling through his head.
was he really that inconsiderate? was he hurting you?
how was he hurting you by showing you love?
how was he supposed to know about your feelings, when you never told him?
actually— he thinks, running a hand through his hair, how do you know that you like someone?
“okay,” mina turns to him, a giddy smile slowly spreading on her face. “so you want to know— theee baku—
katsuki rolls his eyes, “get to the fuckin point pinky.”
“ugh— fine! so you wanna know how it feels to like someone?”
he nods his head, “it’s for a friend.”
“for a friend.” she looks at him like she doesn’t believe him, “does that friend need some help talking to their crush? cause i can help!”
“alright alright,” she sighs, leaning in closer, “let a love professional do their job.”
katsuki walks out a little more confused than he walked in.
mina went over a bunch of things he couldn’t wrap his head around.
“when you see her, you get a funny feeling in your stomach.”
he thinks about you for a second, sometimes his tummy does feel off, but it’s probably a coincidence.
the next thing; you sweat a lot and your hands get clammy around them.
this one has to be bullshit— his whole fucking quirk depends on him sweating profusely. that can’t be shit.
he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, walking aimlessly around the hallway.
“you can’t help but wanna do things for them, like cook, or buy them things.”
okay, he likes to cook for his friends, sometimes he might even pull a wallet— sue him, god forbid he’s a good friend?
this list isn’t reslly applying to him. it’s vague and unhelpful.
mina’s voice in his head plays despite his permission.
“now listen close, this might be the most important one. you always want to spend time with them. you can’t see yourself away from them, and when you are, you can’t help but think of their company.”
this one might apply. honestly, katsuki can’t do without your company. he’s hardly functioning as it is not speaking with you, he can’t believe he used to live a life without knowing you.
without knowing your laugh, without feeling your skin collide his while you fight, without looking deep into your face, like it’s a memory he needs to save in his mind.
honestly, he wishes he had done more of that when he still had the chance. maybe then he wouldn’t feel as empty as he does now.
he wishes he had relished that spark that went off under his skin everytime he came in contact with you.
“whenever you touch them, it feels like fireworks go off.”
he feels mini explosions.
he imagines you standing right infront of him, how he’d wrap his arms around you, in a never ending embrace. he imagines pressing his lips against your softer ones.
he imagines a world where he never blew the chance.
and then he freezes in his steps.
all this walking has lead him straight to your door, and straight to the answer.
and somehow he’s figured out that,
face to face with you as you open your door, clearly not expecting him, two words tumbling from his lips before he can even stop them.
then they all come rushing out.
“fuck— i’m sorry for being such a dunce and not paying attention to shit, i did all those things because i love you— i asked pinky about how i would know and then it all clicked. i only asked you to train so much because i fucking needed your company, and i was too stupid to realize why, i only cooked for you because i loved seeing how happy you get for shit like that— i get it if you don’t wanna accept my self absorbed ass, mff—“
suddenly he’s not imagining anymore.
your lips smash against his, sweet and everything he ever asked for, his hands fly up because he doesn’t even know what to do with them, but they eventually rest around you.
his eyes are peeled open, watching your face, trying to decipher if this really a dream or if he’s actually kissing the girl he loves— and then they flutter shut when he realizes he is.
he’s not imagining anymore.
after what feels like forever but not enough, you break from the kiss, your chests rising and falling in quick successions.
your lips are red and spit glossed.
“does that answer your question?”
he grabs your hand, oulling you back against him, his arms going to wrap around you into that warm embrace he’s fantasized of.
“i never asked a question.”
your laugh is muffled by his shirt, and by god does he sigh blissfully at the sound, after almost two weeks of deprivation.
you look up at him, “well I answered anyways.”
he’s never been so happy that you answered.
thanks so much for 100+ followrs! i love you all so much and i LOVE bakugo too, next milestone will be a series with sukuna or kirishima 😉
comment how you feel, feel free to inbox me, just know riah loves you all!! 💋
