Warnings: bakugo is an ass, baks bullies y/n, blood mentioned, no smut, they hate each other, angst, sa mention but didn’t happen, prob spelling and grammar mistakes just ignore them, sorry if I missed anything..
Authors Note: It’s 3 am and I can’t sleep if I don’t get this out of my system. Now it’s yours.
Thinking about bully Katsuki who made sure to make every day of your life a miserable hell. Throwing your food on the trash can, making fun of you with his friends, pushing you aside when he is walking the aisle you were walking, ripping your notebook, blowing up your stuff, everything he could think of just to make sure you would always remember him.
Unlike Izuku, you weren’t a childhood friend of his. You never were even close to what you could call a friend. You were just someone who could tolerate everything in your path and that’s what you did. Consuming every and last attack of his. You were just another victim. You hated his guts with every cell on your body and so did he.
He wanted to punch your face every time you walked in front of him. He craved to blow your face up when you answered a question correctly. He longed for that desperate look you gave him every time he stand above you, threatening that he would make your life hell. He yearned for every last drop of tear you shed for him every time he hurt you. He lusted after that sense of control when you were standing below him, afraid just by his presence. He ached for your teary eyes, begging him not to leave another scar on your body. He hated thinking about that look all the fucking time. He despised every time he thought of you on the ground, begging him. He loathed looking at you talk to other brainless guys who only want to use you for your mesmerising body. He was repelled by the damn thought of seeing you with someone.
But here you were, in an abandoned allay, close to the school, cornered by an idiot who thought he could have you his way. The stone wall felt cold as your back touched it in hopes you could get away. Your thighs trembled, the fear only getting bigger inside your stomach. The brown haired boy stepped closer, placing his hand on the wall next to your head, excluding any possibility of escape. His other hand found place on your waist, causing a nauseous feeling in your stomach as every thought of what he could do, hit you like a train. Tears started building on your eyes as you heard a voice you could recognise for miles away since it haunted you in your worst nightmares.
“The fuck are you doing, bastard?” Katsuki’s quiet voice hold a threatening tone but this time it wasn’t directed to you. The brown haired idiot’s head immediately flew to the side at the question but the only thing that fell from his lips when he saw Katsuki was just a huff.
“You thought you could have her only for yourself?” The idiot asked. The threatening look the blond boy gave to that dunce was clearer than the fucking sky. Your handsome blond bully walked slowly towards you two but his now, dark eyes were locked to the boy above you. His stroll seemed ignorant but his deadly eyes told a different story.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Huh?” Katsuki questioned. His tone now even more intimidating. His hand flew off his pocket, tiny explosions start to form as he stretched his fingers. The darkening in his red eyes grew and by the time he stood right before the brown haired fool, they became darker than his own heart.
“Ya think you can just do whatever the fuck you want with someone who belongs to me?” Bakugo laughed. Your heart skipped a beat hearing those words. Not from love or excitement but from pure shock.
“Belongs to you? I don’t think she likes you more than m-“ The idiot didn’t have the time to finish his sentence as a loud explosion from Katsuki landed right on his moron face, landing him on the hard ground and scaring you the fuck out.
The brown haired fool laid on the ground as those red eyes finally looked your way. They softened as they fell on your gaze and his body lost the stiffness it previously had. He looked up and down your figure and then turned his eyes to the end of the allay. His body soon followed as he made his way out of the deadlock.
“Thank.. you..” those were some words you never thought you would say to someone who hurt you. Especially Katsuki.
“Don’t expect me to run every time you’re in trouble.” His tone was familiarly harsh. Just when you had a feeling of hope that something in him would change, it vanished as fast as it came.
Those red eyes looked at you one last time before he made the turn that exited the unpopular allay. You were now alone, kneeling against the cold wall, with a semi-conscious body and your own stupid thoughts. Thoughts that always had that spark of hope for Katsuki..
Want me to make more bully Baku? I really like the idea to be honest..
i want yandere bully bakugou but like redemption kinda? like, after becoming a pro hero he tries asking darling out and treats her nicely and stuff, trying to make up for being a bully, but still yandere and kinda toxic???
Normally, it would be strange to ask yourself why you’re someone’s girlfriend. But in your case, given who your boyfriend is, it would be weird not to doubt why.
Part of the answer is that you wouldn’t know how to tell him no.
But… more the question is,
why would he even ask you in the first place?
Try as you might, you couldn’t remember Kachan ever being interested in you in that way. Between calling you a quirkless flat-chested snot-nosed loser extra and telling you how your freckles made you look like you’d been rolling around in shit, he’d not once made you feel as though he was attracted to you in any way.
It had been nearly five years since your high school graduation. The last time you’d seen him. Other than on the news or posters on every corner of the city. Where in that time, he’d gone and made himself a renowned pro-hero. While you…
Well… you’d made your own valid achievements. Though… not nearly amounting to anything as impressive as him.
Which was one of the big reasons why you felt so out of your depth. But not the only reason. And certainly not the main one.
You weren’t convinced it was Kachan when he’d first approached you. Something between meeting a celebrity and a ghost and some other thing you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that somewhat reminded you of the feeling of visiting someone in prison, you bet.
Granted, he, no doubt, still looked like Kachan. Though older, stronger, and taller now, he was still that ash-blonde red-eyed boy you used to know.
It was still Kachan. With his signature straightforward thoroughness and, though more refined and with some resemblance of calm now, that same old brashness of his lurking beneath the trained attitude. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, nor did how his eyes demanded your attention, despite your wish to act like you didn’t recognize him.
You had expected him to growl at you, to laugh and mock you for working at a café, no mind to you being the assistant manager, as you were sure such a feat had no sway with someone as important as him. You’d in the least, if not the former, believed him to ignore you with a sneer. But, though he smirked, it wasn’t a smirk you were any used to. In fact, you’d actually go so far as to call it a smile.
He was still Kachan, but he'd become strange. A stranger, actually. A strange stranger who asked you out. Which is what made him so very strange a stranger to begin with.
But not entirely a stranger as you were still, despite having grown up, a little afraid of what he’d do if you turned him down.
You thought he was joking at first. Playing his same old cruel schoolyard pranks despite being a full-grown man, not to mention one of the highest-ranking pro heroes in japan. But, for a mere joke, he sure seemed serious. Holding up the coffee line in wait for your answer, with fans recognizing him and looking at you as though you were insane for not answering and even more hardcore fans looking at him as though he was insane for asking you.
At least a dozen were filming. And the cardboard coffee cup ached more and more in your palm the longer you waited.
You didn’t really have a choice.
Did you?
Your first date was a lot more expensive a taste than what you were used to. In fact, you realized you weren’t really used to being pampered at all.
You felt underdressed even in the leather seats of his car and even more when the gold lighting of the restaurant dawned on you.
Your breath thinned as you found yourself stared at by what felt like absolutely everyone as the two of you were led to your table overlooking the city.
Kachan noticed your flighty gaze and how you shared fluttering looks with the other people surrounding you and the marble floor, though never with him.
“You can’t blame them.” He said. And your doe-eyes finally returned his stare with an adorably puzzled look of your own. “Your own fault for looking like that.”
You paused, first instincts telling you how it in no way was a compliment, before realizing you were being silly before further deciding how it didn’t really matter. “It’s you they’re staring at. They’re just wondering who I am to be here with you.” You dismissed shyly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And frankly, Kachan… so am I.”
He smiled, and you, without knowing how else you should respond, stilled in suspense until potentially prompted to move.
You were nervous enough around him from before without him acting so strangely, without him giving you those unfamiliar yet somewhat pleasant smiles you hadn’t even seen him use when addressing his fans on TV.
You would even go so far as to say he seemed to be admiring you. Or… you wouldn’t really know what to call it.
A blush of drunkenness rouged his cheeks and sugared his eyes after the third glass of wine, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the same had happened to you.
You were a cute drunk, he thought. While a small quirk played in the corner of his lips on account of the heavy hoods pulled on over your eyes, and how your lips struggled to keep close and instead formed a pout so kissable, he was struggling not to reach over and take the offer.
But, not wanting to scare you away, he exercised restraint. On your behalf, because fuck knows you wouldn’t have done or said anything to stop him. He can see it on you even now. You haven’t got it in you. You never have. And you probably never will.
He asked you about your things. Knowing how you’ve heard about him from the news and every other channel and platform. Acting like your answers somewhat surprised him even though he’s been keeping close tabs on you as the media has on him. Probably even more so.
You’d put on a dress for him. It was nothing special compared to what he’d seen others wear at hero galas, but the thought alone was sweeter and more intoxicating than the wine in his glass.
To think, he could just lift the frill and see you. Touch you. Feel you. He probably would have if he were still your bully, but over the expanse of his hero training, he’d realized he wasn’t any such silly thing as your enemy.
No… Pro-Hero Dynamight may have his admirers and his foes, but as for the man behind the mask.
Bakugou Katsuki,
is your number-one fan.
And he wasn’t embarrassed by it anymore. He wanted you to know it, wanted to smother you with it. He loved you. He wanted you. He needed you.
And he’d make sure no one else would dare even think about taking you from him.
And he’d make sure the thought wouldn’t dare cross your mind either.
He announced your relationship in interviews, had it written on all his platforms, and told every single one of his pining fans. It hadn’t even been a week since you met, and he’d already claimed you before the world, and you…
Well, you didn’t really know what the fuck you were doing.
You’d been ambushed and stormed into surrender before you even knew what was happening. All that was left now was to try and… well… make peace with it.
Kachan was like a new person. You were unsure whether that was a fact or just you trying to convince yourself you don’t feel his old self in how he brazenly puts his hands on you. Having you swallow your own shaky breaths as he wraps his heavy, hefty, muscled arms around your much smaller body.
Or how you fear being bitten, swallowing your heart, when he leans down to kiss you.
Even now, a week into your relationship, you’re still on edge. Awkwardly regarding yourself in his bathroom mirror. The one-week anniversary present he’d gotten for you lying open on the glass counter.
Pretty shades of chiffon were still left inside the expensive box as you’d taken its primary contents and layered your naked self with them.
Dewdrops from your shower disturbed your reflection. Though within the streaks you’d made with your hand, anyone could see how clearly uncomfortable you were. Dressed in the new set of clothes he’d gotten you.
Or…
Clothes was a generous term for it as it was nothing more than silky lingerie.
Rich red lined your skin in sexy floral patterns as the sheer lace perfectly caressed your curves in expensive designer you could never afford and transparent in a way you would never dare buy for yourself even if you could.
And along with the looming disorienting surreal understanding that your childhood bully was no doubt expecting to fuck you tonight, your chest felt tight, and your head was so horridly hot, reeling with memories, flashes in the reflection of the mirror staring back at you. Times you’d cry your eyes out for hours looking at yourself because the boy on the opposite side of the door had you convinced you were the ugliest thing in the entire world.
The dinner you’d shared together earlier must have made you sick since you could taste blood on your tongue, or perhaps it was just the hopeless situation. Nevertheless, you feared that if you left the safety of the bathroom now, you might just vomit from the fever. Or faint-
“You pass out in there?” Came a loud knock on the door, shaking you from your thoughts and reminding you to breathe again. “Come on out, I wanna see you. I don’t care if it’s a little tight.” He ordered, in a voice similar to the schoolyard punk that sometimes still haunts your dreams. Though now belonged to the man he’d grown into, the one waiting for you on his bed just behind the door.
You bit your lip, brows crinkling, a small sigh leaving you in the pitiful form of a whimper before you swallowed a mixture of pride and anxiety. Ripping your gaze from yourself, you made to unlock the door and reveal yourself.
You couldn’t look at him, but looking down at yourself was equally embarrassing, where you stood nearly naked in the nippy air of his bedroom while he, still fully dressed with suit and tie, sat patiently or impatiently waiting for you to come closer.
“Fuck-” He groaned, his tongue gracing the top row of his teeth as his eyes drank in the pretty sight of your perfect body all dressed up for him.
You were too pretty to be this shy. But then again, that was probably his fault.
“Come ‘ere.” He urged, wringing his blazer off and loosening his tie before throwing it to the single chair placed in the corner of the room, keenly watching as you took your small cautious steps until you were just within reach, where his hands hungrily pounced for you.
His hot course fingers touched your skin with greed. Grabbing into your soft flesh, he pulled you to him. Having no reservations about what and how he touched, as his entire hand squeezed your ass like you were playdough.
“Sit.” He ordered while tugging you down on his lap. His thick arm wrapped around your waist as you sat on him like Santa. Fingering the straps of lace at your hip, he stared at your cute nipples through the see-through lace of your bra.
He popped open the first few buttons to his dark burgundy shirt, finding himself getting hotter, and you had to bite your lip at how tight the smooth silk of it was around his muscles and how warm he was against your naked skin.
He hugged you closer against his chest, and your breathing thinned again into a tiny gasp, making him show teeth. “So skittish-” He chuckled, his voice softly amused while kneading your thigh in his toasty and textured palm. “You still afraid I'm gonna push you around like back in middle school?” He asked with a grin, his hot breath fanning against your neck while his lips ghosted the peachfuzz of your cheek.
You fidgeted with your hands on your lap, squeezing your thighs tighter together. Eyes bashfully staring down at the large bruise-knuckled paw petting your knee. Scars littered it like a cutting board.
“Come on…” He drawled as his hand lifted, leaving your thigh cold in its absence, where he made to handle your chin and cheek for you to look at him. “I ain't that shitty anymore, am I?”
You wiggled a bit on account of his raw ruby-red eyes connecting with your shy gaze. Ears on fire since teased by the smooth tone his voice had slipped into, surprised by how it slithered around your pounding heart and pooled in your gut and tickled your cunt where you sat on the bump on his slacks that only hardened the more you squirmed.
“No need to be scared, princess. I don’t bite like I used to. I promise~” He blew against your lips. “I've matured.”
The nickname princess sounded so similar to something else he used to call you. The memory of it taking an equal toll on your body as his touches, further making you shiver on goosebumps while his hand dipped from caressing your face to stroking the soft skin of your neck. Slipping between the valley of your breasts until he settled for cupping one of the two in his hand. Playing with the lace while teasing the visible nipple beneath, smiling once it perked beneath his fingertips.
“You've matured too, huh?” He added, his lips at your ear, ticklish and warm, making your head drum, a tiny squeak leaving you once he flicked your earlobe with his tongue. “You used to look like a little boy before.” He laughed, and you bounced and swallowed thickly as his hand dropped down to your lap again. This time close to your panty, where your thigh was fattest and most sensitive.
The other hand remained at your hip and pulled you even tighter against him while the former stroked the plush chunk of flesh, visibly getting drunk on your softness where his breath had become rugged with restraint.
“I mean, I didn't even think of you as a girl before you started wearing those cute little school skirts.” He reminisced.
Elementary school…
When new uniforms separated boys from girls and you from him.
“You fucked us up with that, y'know?” He scolded, giving you a harder squeeze. “You were one of the guys, and then, boom-” He tsked. “Suddenly, such a tease.”
Your brows furled as your lips pursed into a pout, while your stomach started to fold in all types of uneasy ways by the even darker shift in his tone.
“Too pretty to play in the mud.” He scoffed in a whisper, his nose bumping your temple as you bowed your head even lower, swallowing thickly while suppressing the familiar urge to cry and beg him to stop. Almost expecting him to bite you. “Too pretty for me.”
“Ow-” His hands pinched you just a bit too recklessly, and you popped up from your seat on his lap with a jolt and a wince.
“Sorry.” He offered lazily, keeping his hold on you.
Spreading his thighs, he pulled you between them.
“It’s hard to control myself.” He excused, his hands lowering on your waist as he leveled his head with your belly before crouching forward to cuddle you with his cheek. “You're just so fucking perfect.” He mumbled while giving the pinch mark on your thigh a kiss, his stubble scratching the delicate skin found there.
His words made your head ache, splitting you between contradicting emotions for him, tormenting you to the point that tears pooled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, dripping onto his shirt.
“Don’t cry.” He murmured while his warm worn thick fingers snaked about in between your spread legs and dragged heavily up the thin fabric protecting your cunt.
And despite everything, you still moaned out, though a somewhat feeble whine. And he voiced in another rumbling tone soaked with lust he no longer could contain.
“Let me make it up to you.”
You were a second later thrown down on your back with a bounce on the bed, where he undid the intricacies of your lace-up in a matter of split-felt moments like the single beat of your galloping heart.
“I know you don’t trust me.” He added amidst the heat of his actions. “But I love you, princess-” He urged while kneeling near the bed-end, throwing your thighs over his shoulders. “And I’m gonna prove it to you.”
No part of you was ready for him, but at the same time, all of you were too accepting. With the moan that spilled from your chest like overfilled honeycomb and how your hands stilled in surrender at the feel of his hot eager tongue meeting your cunt.
His spikey ashen hair tickled your thighs as the stubble on his chin and cheeks lightly scratched you with every word of worship his lips mouthed into your core. And your chest arched off the bed as you lost your mind to what you’d gotten yourself into.
Torn between fear of him and lust for him, wondering if you had any pride left in you whatsoever or if he’d finally tightened the chokehold and squeezed it free of any life.
His tongue focused on your clit as he raised a hand between you, filling you with one of his thick fingers. Smirking against your heat at the feel of you clenching on him.
He saw you grip the sheets in tiny fists and looked up to see you trying to hide your embarrassment in his pillows. Chuckling, he added another finger and listened to you whimper out a moan with an involuntary buck of your hips.
He began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt with his free hand, bottom to the top, wrestling it off with somewhat of a handicapped struggle. Growing impatient as he moved down to unzip himself, pulling down the restraints before tugging on his own needy arousal. With precum spilling in pearls from his head, the pent-up beast sprung with a surge against his abs as he jerked himself and continuously gorged on you.
He dropped his pants and boxers entirely as he made to crawl on top of you, sloppy kisses laid in wet trails up your body while his fingers slipped from your cunt so both hands could grab into your soft thighs and spread them to each side of his torso until you felt the weight of his throbbing cock bob against your belly.
You looked down to see it blushed red and wet with arousal, swollen into a threat and pumped to attack you. He noticed your stare and how he made you squirm, prompting him to grab your chin and have you look up at him instead.
You were the tiniest thing beneath him. And under the shade of his dark red eyes, you had your heart in your throat as well as a never-ending thrum of whimpers.
“You ready for me, princess?” He asked with a kiss to your lips, smeared wet across your cheek to nip at your neck.
And though you were anything but certain, you still made to tell him what he wanted to hear. But, with his hot mouth softly biting all the weak spots on your throat, you could only hum in return. However, managing to give a slight nod while your hands lifted from the sheets. Caressing the warm toughness topping you, your gentle fingers slid over the toned muscles of his back, tangling themselves into the short ashen locks at his neck while your legs wrapped around his torso.
All in an effort to tell him yes, as you were all but rendered speechless by the delicate way he handled you.
You were as cute and timid with humility as always, he thought, like a breath of fresh air and clear blue skies after breaching the rubble and smoke of battle.
He cupped your breast in one hand, teasing your nipple between his thumb and index, and grabbed himself with the other. Rubbing his cockhead over your pearl and dipping in between your folds.
He pushed inside, and you whined, tensing at the stretch, and he stopped as though worried.
“You okay?” He asked, and your heart leaped while he messaged your hip in encouragement until you relaxed again before continuing.
He dug his hands into your thighs, spreading you wider as he bottomed out inside you. And your toes curled with your moan as you clenched around him, his teeth gritting at the tight fit while groaning right at your ear.
“Fuck-” He sighed, his lips ghosting your cheekbones as his eyes scanned your pretty face. Hugging onto him with your hands, with your legs pulling him closer. Moaning so sweetly, small little mews just for him.
He could never get enough of those sounds.
He was going to wait at least a month. He figured that would be enough time. Enough time to make all the right moves. He was going to date you, breed you, reunite you with his parents, reintroduce himself to yours, have you move in with him, and then endgame.
But with the ring box in the drawer right next to the bed, he thought he might as well…
Thinking about Bully!Bakugo and Chubby!Reader with glasses Pt.2
Minors DNI 18+
Everyone mentioned is of adult age, meaning 18 or older. I am imagining UA as more of a collage setting.
Warnings: obsessive behavior, name calling, dacryphilia, hateful Bakugo, public vaginal fingering, jealous Bakugo.
Part 1
It was scary how quickly you became the center of Bully!Bakugos attention. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you. Sure, he was still mean and heartless to you but you felt as if you could cope with that. However what you couldn’t wrap your head around is how instead of pushing you down he was beginning to pull you against his side in the halls.
Bully!Bakugo whose burning gaze you couldn’t escape as you studied with Midoriya in the library. Even though the blonde sat on the other side of the room the heat in his eyes made it feel like he was breathing down your neck. You managed to focus on the conversation with Deku, just barely, eventually forgetting about the hot headed bully.
Bully!Bakugo who watched as you were gently laughing and joking around with your green haired classmate, assignment seemingly forgotten. His jaw clenching and nostrils flaring when that fucking nerd rested his arm around the back of your chair, entirely way too close you. Way too close to his little toy.
Bully!Bakugo who waited till you said goodbye to each other, Deku leaving the building while you sorted the books out to put back on the shelves before stalking after you and cornering you against the back shelves.
Bully!Bakugo whose hips pinned your front painfully to the sharp edges of the shelf. Pointy book corners dig into your plush skin but the feeling pales in comparison to the fast pounding of your heart beating against your ribs. The slight smell of burnt sugar told you everything you needed to know.
Bully!Bakugo whose calloused hands grip tight against the swell of your hips, his mouth coming to ghost against the shell of your ear, “I know you’re just trying to get my attention with that stunt you pulled. Dumb Deku? Really? You tryin’ to make me jealous, baby? I don’t think you understand what kind of game you’re playing, dollface.”
You try to defend yourself, but it falls against deaf ears. He wasn’t going to listen to you, but he for sure was going to punish him for giving your attention to someone else, however innocent and necessary it was.
Before you could protest further, Bully!Bakugo had his hand down the front of your panties and the other one covering your mouth, it was a library after all. His thick digits parted your pussy lips before finding your clit which was quickly hardening under his touch. More of your slick coated his fingers the faster he moved them, and as embarrassing as it was, you could already feel the beginning of your orgasm buzz in your lower belly.
Bully!Bakugo who bites and sucks bruises into your neck and jaw, grinning maliciously as you moan against his palm. He watches as your cheeks turn red and your gasps of hot breath fog up your glasses. It felt like an early victory when he noticed the tears glistening behind those frames. His fingers sped up and you came undone.
Bully!Bakugo who, while watching you writhe in the pleasure only he could give, had a sudden thought of how he could watch you do this forever if it was with him. A sudden thought that was entirely too soft and out of place in contrast to his fingers that were still circling your stimulated clit absently as he thought.
looking for some bakugou x reader fanfic, but that the reader has an attitude like Sharpay or Cleo de Nile something like that... I'm thinking it would be cool to have a character who isn't a ray of sunshine...
Bakugo Katsuki with a younger sibling he’s so platonically head over heels with. Wants you to depend on him so much, and hates it when you rely on others. Typical platonic yandere sibling but the catch is that he has something to assist him in letting you solely depend on him only. That something? Your neurodevelopmental condition.
warning: micromanagement, minor domestic violence, ADHD; did research but again it might as well be inaccurate
│
Katsuki was five when you were born, the loveliest thing that he had ever encountered in his life, aligning tiers with the memory when he had first received his quirk. You had bright, scarlet eyes, and your hair was a pretty shade of (h/c), of which father had explained you had inherited from your grandmother, his mom. You were a stark carbon copy of her.
But you were someone else in Katsuki’s eyes. He had cherished you so much the first time you stepped into the house you would come in terms to call home, but he wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t need to, anyway; Mitsuki already had countless photos to bind with time of Katsuki simply adoring everything you did as a baby. He happily fed you, was in charge of your baby backpack which consisted of your favorite toys and milk bottle, and overall took great care of you and acted like the responsible brother he was and would be in the following years to come - only a bit more of a despot.
Upon reaching toddler age, you showed signs of inheriting Masaru’s personality - timid, soft-spoken, and kind-hearted. You were the breather the Bakugou family needed, quite honestly. Whenever a yelling competition would start between your mother and older brother, you would get cranky and upset, and they didn’t want that. So the screaming would only ever happen during moments when you weren’t awake, because you were one hell of a deep sleeper, with your dad helping to drown out their obnoxious voices by playing classical music - something he liked.
While Katsuki adored you, you idolized him very much, doing various attempts to copy his attitude and tendencies though your kind heart and lack of quirk wouldn’t allow you to. Why wouldn’t you want to be like him? He was smart, awesome, and he got homework done right on time, too. In elementary, you’d often find yourself forgetting to do schoolwork, which resulted your grades to plummet down. If you did remember, you would avoid it for reasons unexplainable, even when you knew it was very important.
First signs of your condition.
He’d watch as Mitsuki would reprimand you for every mistake that could have been avoided, and you’d sit there, wondering to yourself why you’d done those mistakes even when they did indeed could have been avoided. In that way, you wouldn’t have been receiving verbal slaps from your hotheaded mother. After every reproach, she’d calm down and tell you that she was doing this (the yelling, the screeching, the disappointed staring) for your own good, so that you’d learn from your mistakes. You never did.
Katsuki would resent his mother for it, but also wondered the same: why were you so unreasonably irresponsible with yourself? He was around fourteen - you, nine - when he bothered to search the net of your possible condition; and there they were, all the telltales that you may actually have a little something called ADHD. He knew it wasn’t right to diagnose you with it yet it was so painfully obvious he probably didn’t even need a doctor to tell him there was something wrong with your pretty little head.
Despite that, he never made advances to suggest that you might be having some sort of mental condition, because then Mitsuki would consider psychiatry and you wouldn’t get to be so dependent on him as you were right now.
It’s less of a boost of his ego and more of the fuel of desire to want you to be entirely dependent on him. He loved it when you ask for his assistance regardless of how small the favor was; it made him feel aware of what you were doing and be in control of you. He liked it that way so he wouldn’t be so paranoid of you every single time.
It wasn’t like he was being unreasonable with fretting over you. You were kind and dumb - two traits that made you selfless to a fault. You’d do anything for the comfort of others it made you borderline suicidal - and due to that, due to not wanting to be of burden to others, you began forcing yourself to become independent, away from your brother’s constant watch. He didn’t like that. He wanted you to lean on him; he’d do anything for it.
Almost like he wanted you to be incapacitated just to get you to rely on him.
But it wasn’t like he’d actually act on the thought, right? It was just a thought. A stagnant one that he soon came to reconsider during his dorm life, when he only ever got to see you every few months. You’d call him every other day whenever you needed assistance with your homework. He’d call you every other day whenever he missed you - which was actually every other hour of the day.
Even far apart, you would still ask your brother for help.
“Alright, do the next number by yourself.” He stated one time in a phone call, when 11-year-old you had asked him to teach you improper fractions.
There was a timid ‘okay’ from your end, and then shuffling of pages, like you were referring to your notes to guide you with the equation. He answered three questions of his own homework whilst you solved. Five minutes in and he was starting to get impatient.
“Well?” He demanded.
“I-I um,” you staggered, “I don’t get it...”
“Which part?”
“Uh... everything...”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He rhetorically asked, tone rough and aggravated. “Everything?”
He always cursed (and had inculcated into you that you were strictly prohibited from doing so), but this time particularly, it hurt. You knew you weren’t the smartest but he didn’t have to reprimand you for it. You couldn’t help yourself.
He reminded you of mom.
“I’m gonna teach you again, and you better get it right this time. Got it?” His tone was sharp, like the one Mitsuki had used on you back then. You held back a whimper. “So, first thing you gotta do is cross-multiply the-”
“Hey, I think I get it.” You hastily said, failing to cover the crack on your voice. “Thanks, oniichan.”
“Really?” He raised a brow. “Tell me the answer then.”
“You probably got a lot on your plate, huh? I bet hero studies is a lot.” You rambled. “I’m gonna go now. Thanks for tutoring me. Bye!”
“Hey wait-” but you ended the call before he could finish.
Shit. Right then he knew his words took a toll on you. He should have taken to account how sensitive you were. To be fair, you’d never acted that way whenever he would berate you for being so dumb. You’d just laugh it off and shrug with a timid smile. Wait, maybe you were just putting up a front and were actually ashamed of how you had to ask your brother for help every single time.
He called you several times after that but you didn’t pick up the phone. He called mom and demanded to give the phone to you but you told mom to tell him that you were busy studying.
Next day, homework was checked and you got a failing grade. Somehow, you weren’t disappointed. It was the first time you answered and finished schoolwork without the help of Katsuki.
Shiiit. He fucked up, he really did, and it was showing by how you weren’t so dependent on him anymore. Most times he was the one instigating the call and you now seldom did. It’d been weeks since you last asked him for help, but he still remembered, because he knew he had made you cry that time.
He returned home for the weekend, both excited and nervous to see you again because he thought you might have still harbored heavy feelings from that one phone call. Instead, you enthusiastically ran out the door and to your brother’s arms, eager to spend time with him after being far apart for his security as a hero student.
Good; you were ecstatic to see him as you were emotional the time he left for dormitory life. That meant he didn’t have to worry about your straying away from him anytime soon.
The both of you planned to finish a series in the duration of his time in the house. At one point, you said you were going to the restroom, but insisted he didn’t pause the episode for your sake. As you were out, his eyes scanned your room.
There was a thin stack of papers on the corner. Averting from the T.V., he took the papers and scanned them, soon coming to realize that they were your school works. All of which had barely passing grades.
When you returned, he ambled to you with an alarming look. He held out the papers to you. “What the fuck is this?”
You stammered, unpleasantly surprised. “W-what?”
“This!” He exclaimed, shoving them to you. “I don’t remember teaching you this shit. You did this all by yourself, huh? And you passed it without telling me?”
“W-well I-”
His pointer finger tapped harshly on your temple. “Why won’t you instill it into your goddamn brain?” He nearly growled. “Or is it that pea-sized you can’t even remember what I always tell you to do? You come to me when you find something difficult. You tell me when you don’t understand shit.”
There were tears in your eyes now, but this time he ignored them. He was focused on engraining into you what you should always do. Depend on him. “I just wanna do things without you for once...”
“So you’re gonna risk your grades for the sake of being independent?” He scoffed. “I’ll say this if it keeps you grounded, (y/n). There’s something fucking wrong with your brain. You’ll never be able to make it without me.”
god was it so tempting to actually... incapacitate you. Perhaps then you’d keep your hands to yourself and never again attempt to do something as dumb as that. Your feet might be worth the sacrifice; he’d carry you everywhere, know your location because all you’d have to do was sit and look pretty. Or maybe your hands. He’d feed you, get things for you, write for you and therefore know all your thoughts that you input in that journal of yours. Not that he’d never known of its content.
But it was just an idea. It wasn’t like he planned to do it. No; that would be too cruel.
Now he micromanages you. He knew of your schedule, your meals, hours spent on your phone and contact list. Being barely a teen, you weren’t too aware of his apparent possessiveness over you; all you thought was that you were only suffering the consequences of your own actions. Your own attempts of being independent.
Soon he was twenty when you were fifteen, still the loveliest thing he had ever encountered in his life - but not so lovely compared to when you were still submissive and knew no better. This time, you weren’t too timid to deviate against your brother’s wishes. His overprotectiveness you then thought was necessary and understandable was now irritating, superfluous, and a waste of both your time.
You were in your first year of high school and he was debuting as a rookie hero already rising in the ranks - still he was somehow able to find time to deal with you like you were some trite part of his routine. It irked you to the core. Who was he to micromanage your time like that? Did he really think you were incapable of fending for yourself that he just had to fit you into one of his chores? You felt insulted and, quite frankly, objectified.
And so you began deviating from his standards of you. Your curfew outside was 4:30PM but now you’d go home around 5. You weren’t allowed to touch your phone past 8:30PM but now you’d stay up until 11. He used to dictate your dress code, getting you dolled up in something way more conservative - so you’d wear [tank tops/spaghetti straps] just to piss him off. He wanted you to eat healthy? You spent your allowance on fast food for a week. Spend more time with him? You became busy in ‘group studies’ with your friends.
He’d let these not-so-little things slide at first, thinking that you were just in your phase of puberty. These come and go. But then he somehow knew that you had online friends and then your liberty was stripped off of you all of a sudden.
He had only ever wished to speak with you civilly about it, and you had hoped to return the same level of temperament, but then he proposed to confiscate your phone and from then on things got very heated.
What remaining good [boy/girl] exterior you had was forcibly ripped off your countenance as you yelled, voice cracking, “You never let me do the things I want! Leave me the fuck alone!”
His expression hardened upon hearing you cuss. “Don’t you fucking curse at me!”
“You’re a hypocrite!”
“And you’re a goddamn idiot! So fucking selfish!” He slammed his hand on the dining table, muscles from hero training prominent and terrifying. You flinched visibly. “So fucking selfish. Who are you to talk to me like that, ah? I’ve been watching you all my life I know what makes you happy, what makes you mad, what makes you cry! I made sure you were safe! Made sure you got your shit together with academics!”
“I never asked for that.” You replied, quivering.
“You never asked for that?” He reiterated, chuckling derisively. “I’m the reason you’re in UA’s general course right now. You wouldn’t have passed without me.”
You were so, so tired of arguing with your brother who’d done nothing but use insults for points in this argument. You were tearing up in frustration. “Why can’t you just let me be? What is wrong with you?”
“The reason why I’m like this,” he sneered, “is to accommodate with that tiny fucking rock in your skull you call a brain. You can barely survive on your own. god, no wonder mom gets mad at you a lot back then. Can’t use your brain for shit, fucking quirkless.”
It was like your world halted in motion. Regardless of anything, he never made an insult out of your lack of quirk. He knew it was a sensitive matter to you.
What made him stoop so low?
You glowered at him. “I hate you.”
“You might as well be dead without me.”
“Well I’d rather be dead than with you!” In the heat of the moment, you screeched. “My life would have been a lot better without you, anyway! I didn’t need some arrogant, egoistic bastard of a brother who gets off to micromanaging!”
You blinked and suddenly you were on the ground, white pressure on your cheek that you couldn’t distinguish until you looked at Katsuki’s outstretched hand and suddenly it was painful; you knew he slapped you so hard, and he knew what he’d just done.
He dragged you by the hair before you could scream, and you were forced on your legs to follow him as he went up the stairs and to a door. You were shoved into his room, locked, bruising on the face.
“Hey! What the hell?!” You shrieked, abruptly scrambling up and banging on the door. “Let me go!”
He didn’t answer. You heard footsteps getting farther and farther away, and then the shut of the front door echoed loudly across the house, which meant he went out for a breather.
You were hyperventilating. Vision blurry, breath heaving, head throbbing. There was something wet and warm trickling down the surface of your upper lip. Lifting your hand towards it, you came to realize that it wasn’t snot. You were bleeding from your nose.
You fell unconscious before you hit the ground.
===
There was something cold pressed against your cheek the moment you woke up, eyes squinted from the ceiling light above you. It felt soft and fabric-like, this something against your cheek, and then it was replaced with a hand so warm.
You looked to your side where Katsuki was, staring at you with a now collected countenance. You gasped, jolting from lying down on the bed and moving farther to the opposite of him.
“Hey, shh, it’s just me.” He consoled, voice completely mellow - quite the contrast to his usual self.
Your lips quivered, and tears surfaced on your bottom lids. The whimper on your throat came out when he made a move to join you on his bed (where you now rested) and shuffle near to your person. You shut your eyes when his hand - the dominant one that had hit you - came closer to you, only to hold your head and bring you onto him in an embrace.
You didn’t know what to do, when to move, so you just stilled in his hold, afraid and alert of every motion his body made.
He let go of you and looked at you in the eye. “Mom and dad are home.”
You struggled to remain the visual contact, blinking rapidly.
“When they ask you about your cheek, tell them that you got hit by a door, alright?”
Shitty excuse, but considering your tendencies, they’d most likely believe it.
When you took too long to answer, the hand behind your head squeezed tight. “Alright?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, alright.” You nodded urgently.
He may have not incapacitated you physically, but judging from your current disposition, Katsuki had a feeling that wouldn’t be needed. Not as long as you remain dependent and reliant on him.
Where he gets off seeing you cry in more ways than one
Warnings: NSFW, implied noncon (but that's up to you tbh, very vague), aged up ofc
- you were so pretty, it hurt katsuki just looking at you
- how can someone so pretty be so fucking beautiful when smiling with their friends
- he wanted to see other parts of you
- first started calling you dumb, stupid, idiot, trying to insult your intelligence
- then started stepping on your shoes, tugging your hair, poking your sides
- more annoying than anything tbh
- then you got angry, called him out on his bs with you and deku
- this riled him up
- after school he took you behind the school building and pulled your head back and kissed you so sloppy, so eagerly, so desperately
- pressed his erection on you and pulled away from the kiss, looking at your wet eyes, smirked and growled "This is what your annoying, pretty, little face does to me"
- Best believe he beated his schmeat when he got home
- next time he got you alone up on the rooftop, his pant zipper down, his cock down your throat while he groans, "look up at me sweetheart"
- loved seeing the tears run down your cheeks as you swallow him whole, his blond pubic hair just barely gracing your lips
- came in your throat, forced you to swallow his delicious creamy cum
- he was proud to think that he claimed your throat
- oh that one time under the bridge where he pulled your pants down and slapped your ass hard
- tears pricked your eyes, got him rock dick
- he rubbed his dick between your ass cheeks, admiring the red handprint, wondering what you'll tell your friends tomorrow at the beach trip
Ok this is just a random thought but I’m just thinking about bully Bakugo as your boyfriend and you two just do anything in your power to embarrass and fluster poor Midoriya. Bakugo bullying him is already hard but when you’re in the picture just imagine how much joy you get out of seeing a flustered blushing freckles face boy. All you do is flirt with him. Playing with his hair, making sure your boobs and ass are always on display for him. Maybe even kissing him just to get to see your pissed off explosive boyfriend spill degrading words at the both of you. God I might have to write this😩
Wat if katsuki actually had a s/o that loved Key word LOVED him but.....
Then when he started getting to aggressive and starts hitting her she suddenly stops all the love and affection. And that makes katsuki so confused and angry bc he like 'wtf why did they stop huggin and kissin me when I get home from my matches'. Then his darling becomes very depressed is and cooped up in her room all the time. So when katsuki friends come over they wonder where y/n is.
Tw:abuse, implied dubcon, depression
“Babe, you’re home!” You rush over to the door when you head it unlocking, arms outstretched already or embrace his wounds.
But when the door swings open you’re met with a scowling Bakugo who shoves you aside so hard you fall to the floor.
He grumbles and throws his bags down, kicking mud off his shoes onto the carpet as he glares at you.
“This place is a pigsty. Why the fuck didn’t you clean?”
You laugh nervously and raise an eyebrow. “Uhh, ‘cause I was out all day too? I just got home an hour ago and I was tired. What’s with you? Why’re you in such a bad mood?”
Katsuki’s eyes widen until they’re the size of dinner plates. His nostrils flare and his fists resume the same position as they do in the ring.
“You talkin’ back to me now?”
“What? No, you literally just asked-“
Crack.
The sound of him backhanding your cheek reverberates around the apartment, and you hold your face in shock.
It’s not so much the pain of him striking you that hurts, it’s the fact that this has been happening for a while now that aches the most. Nothing you do-no smiles, no amount of love you showed him in, no sobs or pleads-sways him.
You love him, it’s true.
But it’s hard to love him when he looks at you like that.
“Get the fuck up. And clean all this shit up, the next time I come home to this filth I’ll make the clean the floors with your tongue.”
He grabs you by your hair and throws you face-first onto the tile area, taking his own sweet time to turn around and walk to your shared room.
After you clean for hours until the place is spotless, you retreat to bed.
He’s on his phone typing away with a slight crease in his eyebrows, but he looks up at you as you walk in.
“Hey. You done?” He has the audacity to ask in a gentle voice.
“Mmhm.”
You don’t look at him as you begin changing your clothes in the restroom and close the door behind you.
His frown deepens at that. You’ve never shied away from being vulnerable and naked with him.
To test his doubt, when you walk back into the room with your head still down, he leans forward as you sit down on the mattress, your back turned to him.
You shut off the lights in silence as he reaches a hand out and curls it around your shoulders.
“C’mere, ‘wanna feel you.” He mumbles in his raspy sleepy voice.
But to his utter confusion, you gently brush his hand off and continue your journey to tuck yourself in bed.
With your back still facing him.
“I’m tired Katsuki. Not in the mood.”
His hand is still suspended in midair, his facial features still frozen in his initial shock as he’s left in a pitch black room which is suddenly overcome with a freezing cold creeping up his spine.
He’s too wounded, too shocked and shot from his ego to be irate.
You’ve never said no to cuddling at night. Never. So what was wrong now?
You were taking his anger so well for a while, what the hell was the matter with you?
But he doesn’t touch you again that night. He barely sleeps a wink to your usually comforting sound of soft snores and little mumbles in your sleep talk.
In the morning his lack of sleep gets the betterment of his temper, and he lashes out of you again in the shower.
You’re washing your hair when you feel a cool breeze against your bare body. You open your eyes and see Katsuki standing in front of you outside the glass door to your shower.
You feign an eye roll and merely grab the handle trying to close it shut.
He doesnt even let it budge. He just snarls down at your intruding hand and yanks the door back even further, pulling you along with the force.
You yelp and slip on the floor, falling unceremoniously at his feet.
The look on his face is frankly terrifying, much worse than yesterday’s. Bakugo slowly steps in along with your quickly reversing body and closes the door behind him, trapping you inside with him.
“Why’d you try to close it on me.”
It’s not a question, it’s a demand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Then get up and touch me.”
He’s towering over your cornered form, his fists dangerously swinging next to your head.
Your limbs don’t move though. Your heart thuds slowly, your love ebbing away from him with its slow rhythm.
You already know how this is going to turn out, but you try anyways.
“Please Bakugo, I’m really not in the mood right now.”
“Oh, so it’s Bakugo now, huh?”
Your body disassociates so you don’t feel it as much, but unfortunately your hands still flinch above your head in instinct.
“If you’re-thud-sorry, then you’ll fucking-crack-touch me you-smack-ungrateful bitch.”
Your cries are loud, but not loud enough to drown his roaring out, not enough to mute the sound of his hands cracking above your shaking body.
He leaves the shower unfulfilled in his heart and in his dick.
His mind is in shambles.
This is the longest you’ve wanted space from him, he could understand an hour but half a day?
He has a rude awakening when “half a day” becomes a couple more days, then a week, and then it’s half a month since you’ve willingly kissed his battle scars and loved him with your whole being.
He says willingly because otherwise you eat his hits up like you’re just another fighter in the ring when he gets angry at your apathy. The only restraining factor that differentiates you and the men he puts in coffins is his desperation for you to come back.
To no avail though. If you’re not keeling over on the ground or pinned underneath him and molding your anatomy to the shape of his fists, then you’re still as a corpse on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you were anywhere else but here.
Bakugo doesn’t know what to do.
He doesn’t know what to feel.
Rage is consumed by paranoia, paranoia is swallowed whole by depression, depression is swept away by panicked desperation.
His hair starts falling out, his punches grow weaker and he comes home with more and more bruises every day to match the ones littering across your body.
One might wonder whose the real fighter-him or you.
And so one day when he can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand the silence and tension that’s so palpable you could taste the iron in the air, he invited his friends over.
He need the distractions. He needs happiness, a word that doesn’t seem worthy of his pathetic being.
He’s more pathetic than your unmoving body.
“Heyyy man!” Sero and Denki exclaim in obnoxious unison and throw their arms around Bakugo’s shoulders. All three of them barrel through his half-opened doorway and practically topple him over.
The air of excitement is so foreign to him, but oh so welcoming.
“Hey,” he grunts back awkwardly.
“You’ve never really invited us over without Y/N dragging you by the ear for it. How is she by the way? Haven’t heard of her in a while.” Kirishima nudges his shoulder.
But before he can open his mouth Denki cuts in. “You knock her up yet? You sly bastard, no wonder you’re hiding her from us. The gigs over Y/N, show us that beautiful belly!” He cups his hands around his mouth and the quip slashes through the air and infests Katsuki’s heart. It’s a mockery, a cruel reminder of what he cannot have.
When their friend doesn’t answer and merely walks off, the boys behind him awkwardly look at each other.
Usually he’d explode at them or at least chase them around the room.
And usually you would come out to greet them.
Katsuki was wrong.
You weren’t different from him anymore.
Because when he accepts that not even his friends can release his stone cold heart from its catatonic confines, he’s never felt more in sync with you than he has now.
