#ghostlyfluff4bakugo

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 (𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦)

Masterlist

Bakugo always had something to say. That you were too loud, that you didn’t know how to stay still, that you were always all over him. And yet, what unsettled him the most—though he’d never admit it—was how easy it was for you to love.

And yet, that shameless and sincere way you showed your feelings was, ironically, one of the first things that broke down his walls.

“Move over a bit,” you said suddenly, standing in front of him.

“What? Why?” he grumbled without budging.

Without answering, you put one knee on the couch, then the other, and with smooth, confident movements, you climbed onto his lap like that was your rightful place. Bakugo tensed up, surprised. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a second, like they didn’t know what to do. You, on the other hand, just settled your weight, straddling him naturally.

“Woman, get off. I’m not a damn chair,” he growled, but his hands ended up on your waist, clumsy at first, like he was trying to convince himself it was to push you away… even though he made no real effort to do so.

“I don’t wanna, Katsuki,” you whispered, leaning in until your face was just inches from his.

“I need space…” he repeated, voice lower now, less firm, betrayed by the faint blush creeping up his neck.

You tilted your head with a small smile, and instead of answering with words, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline. His body shivered beneath yours.

“Damn it, what are you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You brought your hands to his face, warm and gentle, cupping him tenderly as you started kissing him little by little, like you were tracing an invisible map across his skin.

First his cheeks, one by one, with soft kisses that left behind the subtle mark of your favorite lipstick. Then his forehead, right in the center. Bakugo closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath. His fingers now gripped your hips firmly.

When your lips touched the bridge of his nose, he opened his eyes again and muttered:

“You’re completely nuts…”

And then, finally, you kissed his lips. It was short, loud, one of those kisses meant just to let the other person know you care. The sound broke the silence between you. Bakugo held your gaze for a moment, and even though his brow was still furrowed, there was no threat left in it.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he muttered in a rough voice, without any conviction.

But you saw the smile. It slipped onto his face without permission. And the tips of his ears, red as a warning light, gave away what he still refused to admit.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡… 𝐾𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛’, 𝑊𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛

• Masterlist

The bedroom was bathed in a dim, warm light, barely held up by the bedside lamp set to its lowest setting. Bakugo was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back slightly leaned against the headboard and his legs stretched out. He held you firmly but without pressure, sitting naturally and already used to this routine that had become almost sacred between you two: that space, that shared time, before closing your eyes.

You were lying across his lap, legs crossed over his and arms loose, relaxed. You talked in a soft voice, telling him whatever came to mind: little things from the day, silly stuff you saw on the street, a comment that made you laugh, or a sudden idea you weren’t sure was good or just plain dumb. There was something about your voice that calmed him down.

He barely spoke, as always. But he couldn’t stop looking at you.

His left hand rested easy on your waist, thumb lazily drawing little circles over your shirt like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. With his right, he reached up real gentle—way softer than you'd expect from someone like him—and brushed a stubborn piece of hair outta your face. His fingers barely skimmed your cheek, light as a whisper, before he tucked the strand behind your ear and left it there like it belonged.

His crimson eyes didn’t leave you. He watched closely how you moved, how your lips curved when you smiled, how your eyebrows arched when you remembered something surprising. He was fascinated by your face in motion. The way you talked with your hands without even realizing it, or how sometimes you narrowed your eyes when deep in thought. It was like watching a quiet fire, vibrant but never burning, a flame he never got tired of staring at.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

YOU WRITE SO WELL !!! (,,>﹏<,,)

i have a req for bf!katsuki — yknow its late at night they’re cuddling, when reader just gets a random burst of affection so she starts yapping about how much she loves him cus ugh he’s so squeezable and reader doesn’t even realize she’s yapping until she realizes he’s staring agape,, cus he isnt exactly the best w words as we all know . SORRY IM SUCH A YAPPER WHEN I FEEL INTENSE EMOTIONS LMAO DOES THIS MAKE SENSE

thank you !

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐶𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑇𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑦

STOP this req was so cute i literally melted while writing it 😭 thank u sm for sending it in fr, it was so fun to write!! <3

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to look at him. Bakugo had his eyes closed, blonde lashes resting against his cheeks, his usually furrowed brow incredibly relaxed, and that involuntary pout forming on his lips when he was half-asleep.

Your eyes softened. Your chest tightened with tenderness. How was it possible that someone so explosive, so rough, could look so insanely adorable?

You couldn’t resist. Your fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the soft strands.

And without meaning to, you started talking.

"How can someone be this handsome even while half-drooling in their sleep…?" you murmured, a dumb little smile dancing on your lips. "Like, seriously. You’re basically a muscley teddy bear."

Your fingers traced soft circles against his temple as you spoke, and without realizing it, your voice started getting louder.

"And your arms, god… do you even know how safe I feel here? Like a bulletproof capsule but hot! And that pout, Katsuki. You're literally huggable. Unbearably adorable. You’re my weakness. I wanna crawl into your hoodie and never come out."

The body beneath you tensed just a bit, like a tic. You didn’t notice.

"Sometimes I catch myself thinking about how you act all tough and grumpy all the time, but then you go and do stuff like… grab my hand when we cross the street, or fix my helmet on the bike even when I say I know how to do it. How the hell am I not supposed to be hopelessly in love with you, dumbass? How am I not gonna wanna bite your face from loving you so damn much?"

At that moment, one of his eyebrows twitched and one of his cheeks lit up, coloring with a warm red that didn’t match the whole 'stoicism' he was trying to keep up.

"Katsuki… you awake?"

Silence.

"You’re faking it," you accused softly, laughing under your breath.

"Tsk… shut up," he growled suddenly, voice hoarse and rough with sleep, but unmistakably embarrassed.

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his whole body stiff like he could physically ward off the affection crashing down on him. His hand twitched at your waist.

"Shit… what are you even sayin’, dumbass," he mumbled, half into the pillow now. "You’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack."

He finally exhaled hard through his nose, like he was trying to shake something off.

"How the fuck d’you expect me to sleep with all those cheesy-ass declarations raining down on me?"

"Sorry, I’m a yapper when I get excited," you said, covering your mouth like it could somehow erase all the love-drunk nonsense that had just spilled out of it.

Bakugo groaned under his breath, clearly flustered beyond repair. He rolled onto his side, wrapping both arms around you and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"Can’t believe I’m in love with such a damn menace," he muttered, the words muffled but real.

Still, his heart was beating faster than normal. You felt it. So did he.

And as you hid your face in the warmth of his skin, giggling in sheer embarrassment, he opened his eyes just for a second, gaze unfocused on the shadowed ceiling.

"Fuckin’ hell… I wanna bite you too, with how goddamn much I love you."

But he didn’t say it. Not yet.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

I just had to work up the courage to ask! Can I please have bakugo with a playful reader who loves play wrestling and tickle fights even though bakugo wins most of them and he’s just so smitten with her lion cub personality 🥹

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑊ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝐿𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑁𝑜𝑤?

omg finally had the time to finish this one!! poor bakugo just wanted a peaceful night but ended up in a tickle war 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

The door shut behind him with a sharp click.

"I'm home," he announced, voice rough and tired. Patrol had been a damn nightmare: long hours walking, sticky heat, civilians crankier than usual. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of seeing you—knowing you were there.

But the silence was absolute.

No music, no sound of your voice calling from the kitchen, no hurried footsteps coming to greet him. He frowned, slowly taking off his boots by the door. His eyes went straight to the coat rack. Your coat was there. And next to it, your bag. He bent down suddenly, a sharp movement, as if looking closer might give him a logical explanation.

And then he saw it.

Your phone. On the dining table.

He moved through the apartment fast, like he was searching for an intruder to rip apart with his bare hands. He opened the bedroom door. Nothing. His eyes scanned every corner like you were gonna magically appear. The bathroom. Empty. The closet. Nothing.

His heart pounded, off-beat, like his chest wasn’t big enough to hold it.

Now he was torn between shouting your name or dialing 911. His hand was already halfway to his back pocket, trembling slightly, when—

A hand.

A damn hand shot out from under the bed and grabbed his ankle.

The scream he let out echoed off the walls. Instinctively, he jumped back, tripped on the edge of the bed, and caught himself on the doorframe before he could fall.

And then—your laugh.

That bright, shrill, mischievous laugh.

You slid out from under the bed, cheeks flushed from laughing and eyes sparkling with trouble. You were laughing with your whole body, bent over, shaking like what just happened was the funniest shit that had ever happened to you.

"You little shit" he yelled, no real bite to his voice, still shaken from the adrenaline spike.

You brought your hands to your face, still trembling with laughter.

"Katsuki! I swear your scream was… was glorious!" you choked out between laughs, trying to pull yourself together. "Are you pale?"

Bakugo didn’t know if he wanted to yell at you, hug you, or strangle you. His jaw was clenched so tight he could barely speak without spitting every word.

"Are you fucking insane? What the hell was that?! I almost called the damn cops!"

"It was just a prank," you shrugged, still wearing that bratty little grin. You bit your lip to stop another laugh, but the way your cheeks twitched gave you away.

"A prank?! I’ll show you a fucking prank!"

Your hands barely had time to press against the mattress before he shoved you down, just forceful enough, making you fall flat on your back on the messy sheets.

"Katsuki!" you protested, your voice going up in pitch, already knowing what was coming.

"Don’t you dare play innocent now," he growled, crawling over you with that dangerous glint in his eyes, a mix of cruel satisfaction and poorly hidden affection.

You scrambled backward awkwardly, trying to crawl away, but he was already straddling your hips—anchored, solid. You weren’t going anywhere.

"No, wait, wait!" you raised your hands in surrender, laughing before he even touched you. "It was a joke! A harmless joke!"

"Harmless, my ass."

Then he struck.

His hands came down like a storm—quick, precise, like he knew exactly where to hit. His fingers dug into your sides, targeting the spot between your ribs and waist with surgical precision.

"NO—NO! Katsuki! You fucki—AHAHAH!"

Your body snapped like a spring. You kicked, squirmed, tried using your hands to push him away, but it was like trying to move a boulder. He stayed on top of you effortlessly, legs locking you in place, while his expression grew more and more satisfied.

"Real funny, huh? Not so hilarious now, is it?"

"Stop! Please!" you screamed between gasps, voice cracking from the nonstop laughter, eyes brimming with tears. "I’m gonna pee myself!"

That only seemed to motivate him more.

His hands slid up your sides, switching pace, letting you breathe for half a second—just enough to trap you again. Your back arched, your fists hit him with no strength, and he just kept going, relentless.

"Fuck you…" you muttered through laughter, unable to even fake being serious.

"What was that?" he raised a brow.

Then he went down.

No warning. No time to prepare. He dipped his face into the curve of your neck. First came the heat of his breath, a soft exhale brushing over your most sensitive skin. Then his lips. His mouth. Not a kiss. Not a bite.

Tickles.

With his mouth.

"No! Not there! Katsuki, please!"

You thrashed like you were being electrocuted. Your legs slammed into the mattress, your hands tried to push him by the shoulders, but he had you exactly where he wanted. His lips brushed your neck as he blew gently, then pressed the tip of his nose right into the hollow under your ear. Sometimes he made a little sound against your skin, a ptchh with his mouth that drove you insane.

"What? Here?" he murmured in that low, gravelly voice, just before making you dissolve into laughter again, switching sides—this time just below your collarbone.

"I HATE YOU!"

"Liar," he whispered, and his lips touched your skin slower now, no tickling this time, just staying there… breathing with you.

You were panting, cheeks hot, eyes closed, a smile of surrender stretched across your lips. He lifted his head a bit, looked down at you, and let out a low, raspy laugh—like he couldn’t believe how stupid he felt… how fucking happy he was.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜 𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑

Y/n gets a giant chibi Bakugo plush in the mail

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment and, as usual, Bakugo was the first to get to the door. Not because he was excited to get packages—hell no, he wasn’t some damn golden retriever waiting for a treat—but deep down, though he'd never say it out loud, there was always a little buzz of curiosity when it came to something you ordered.

The box was big. Too big. Bakugo lifted it easily, but frowned at the size.

"What the hell did you order now...?" he muttered, kicking the door shut behind him while carrying the package to the living room.

Not even two seconds passed after he set it down before you came running in like you’d just won the lottery. Your eyes sparkled, your hands trembled with excitement as you looked for scissors.

"Ah! It’s here! Finally!"

"Another damn box, huh?" he grunted, crossing his arms and standing off to the side, watching like a hawk. His scowl didn’t ease even when you sat on the floor, legs crossed, to open it.

The cardboard ripped, plastic flew everywhere, and then—he saw it.

"What the fuck...?" The words got stuck in his throat.

You pulled out a massive plush toy from the box. Not just any plush. No. It was a chibi... of him. Bakugo Katsuki. With those ridiculously big eyes, his signature frown stitched in black thread, even the tiny explosion details on the stuffed gloves. A plush that was eighty damn centimeters tall.

"Look at it, it’s perfect!" you exclaimed, like you’d just received a newborn baby.

Bakugo blinked. Once. Twice. The world around him froze as you stood up, hugged the plush to your chest, and squeezed it like it was treasure.

Your smile was so wide, so genuine, that something shifted inside him.

And he didn’t like it.

"Seriously...?" he asked under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief.

His jaw tightened, brow furrowed so deep it looked like it might never relax. His hands slowly curled into fists—not from anger... okay, maybe, but not like when he was fighting. It was a different kind of irritation. A weird, uncomfortable pinch in his gut.

He was jealous.

Of a plushie.

Of himself.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than usual as he let out a sharp breath.

"You’ve got a damn problem," he finally said, voice low, gruff, but there was something underneath it. Something unsure.

You looked at him from the couch, still hugging the chibi like it was the most adorable thing in the world.

"But look how cute it is. And it’s soft! And it smells good!"

A vein pulsed at his temple. He walked toward you with heavy steps, arms tense, like he might rip the plush from your hands and chuck it out the window. But when he stopped in front of you, he just stared.

You. With those bright, happy eyes. That dumb smile that sometimes knocked the air right out of him. With his goddamn mini-me clutched to your chest like it was worth protecting.

"You don’t need that shitty doll if you’ve got the real deal," he grumbled through his teeth, crouching down to your level.

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Are you jealous...?"

"Don’t fuckin’ start! Of course not!" he snapped instantly, but the tips of his ears flushed red. A quick, annoyed blush that only someone who knew him would catch.

You let out a soft laugh, entertained, and reached out to take his hand. Your fingers brushed over his knuckles gently, and it made him drop his guard for a second—not that he’d ever admit it.

"No matter how many things I have of you, none of them compare to you," you whispered.

He looked away, but didn’t pull his hand back.

"...Still, stop wasting your money on that crap," he muttered.

"Sure, sure," you said, with a smile he knew didn’t mean “sure.”

Bakugo sighed, dropped onto the couch next to you, and gave the oversized plush one last death glare.

He definitely had to keep an eye on that thing. What if you started sleeping with it instead of him? What if you took it to work? What if...?

He growled under his breath.

That plush wasn’t gonna win.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑦 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢

𓂃 ࣪˖ just a boy, a cardigan, and way too many feelings. he’s so doomed. he knows it. and honestly? he doesn’t even mind. new drops every friday (or when the brainrot hits)

The rain tapped softly against the fogged-up window. Long, lazy drops slid down the glass. You stood beside it in silence, arms wrapped around yourself inside that white cardigan you loved so much. Your jeans—loose, comfy—said you had no intention of impressing anyone that afternoon. That you were just there, calm, present. And yet, Bakugo couldn’t stop staring.

He sat in his chair, legs spread, elbows on his thighs, eyes fixed on you. He didn’t even try to hide it. He couldn’t.

"I think I’m losing my goddamn mind," he blurted out suddenly, frowning.

You didn’t look at him. Not yet.

"That’s not exactly breaking news," you replied lightly, still unaware of what had prompted him to say that.

But he didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at his hands, at his restless legs. At the uncomfortable pressure growing between them. He was half-hard. Over a damn cardigan and some jeans. You weren’t even dressed up. No makeup, no cleavage, no flirty intentions. Just you. Just that... and it was enough.

"Guess this is what it feels like," he muttered.

"Feels like what?" This time, you did turn around, curious. You walked toward him unhurriedly and stopped right between his legs. Your hands lowered gently to rest on his shoulders as you looked at him with one brow raised.

Bakugo clenched his jaw. He couldn’t have you this close and keep his damn composure. His hands, warm, slid up your waist, gripping you like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You’re doing this on purpose, fuck… I hate you," he muttered, looking away. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Or your lips. Or that smug little smile you wore so damn well.

He stood up with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing, and in two steps had you on the bed. He laid you down gently, though he made it seem casual. Like there was no urgency, like he didn’t want you so bad it hurt.

"Hey, don’t change the subject," you laughed, though your fingers were already twisting in the fabric of his shirt as he settled above you, firm but not heavy, with his knees on either side of your hips.

"Shut up," he muttered. "I’m busy losing my mind over you."

"Katsuki..."

He placed one hand beside your head, and the other slid down your waist, pressing gently where the cardigan parted.

"You’re not even trying. Not even doing it on purpose. And still… look at me."

He gave you a look that was pure surrender.

"I’m fucked."

And you kissed him. You kissed him because you knew exactly what he couldn’t say with words. Because you were falling too, slow and hopelessly.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒆

𓂃 ࣪˖ we might be early for christmas, based on a sweet request from my muti @sunniescats bakugo + reader + mistletoe = exposed (kind of)

It was Kirishima who saw it first. His booming laugh cut through the conversation. Then Uraraka let out a small gasp. And within seconds, the whispers spread like wildfire through the living room.

"Are you serious!?" Mina shouted, pulling out her phone.

Your name appeared several times in the comments. Bakugo’s too.

And you… you still didn’t know why.

Until Denki, wearing his classic oops smile, walked over with his phone in hand.

"Don’t hate me, but… look what I accidentally posted."

The picture was a little blurry, the typical chaos of a party: everyone grouped together making faces or throwing up peace signs.

But the background…

The background told another story.

There you were. Half-hidden by decorations and movement, but unmistakable. Your body turned slightly toward him, your hands laced tightly with his.

The intimacy was written all over Bakugo’s posture—leaning ever so slightly toward you, in the way your fingers sought his, in how he didn’t let go.

The room fell into expectant silence. Someone stifled a laugh. And then:

"I KNEW it!" Mina shrieked, pointing at the screen. "I freaking knew it!!"

"We weren’t hiding it," you muttered, while Bakugo let out a low scoff, clearly annoyed.

"We just weren’t announcing it," he added dryly.

But no one was listening. Because the comments were already flooding in online:

BAKUGO??? HOLDING HANDS??? AND HE LOOKS HAPPY???

And we thought the mistletoe was just decoration. The power...

They’re so cute it hurts my chest

It’s about damn time, BAKUGO!

You smiled. And then you remembered… exactly how it had happened.

The living room had been packed, the music playing at medium volume, voices mixing with the clink of glasses and the scent of cinnamon in the air. But you and Bakugo had drifted off, instinctively finding your way to the quiet hallway near the back.

There it hung—an overlooked mistletoe. One of those Kaminari had put up “just in case.”

Your fingers shifted gently within his, squeezing softly. His palm was warm, holding yours with a firmness that didn’t overwhelm. His eyes dropped to your lips for a moment, then to the little branch hanging above you.

"You thinking what I’m thinking?" you whispered.

"That Denki’s gonna talk dumb shit if he sees us," he said, still deadpan, though he didn’t pull away.

"That we’re standing under a mistletoe," you clarified.

Bakugo clicked his tongue.

"Stupid-ass tradition..."

You chuckled softly.

"It’s just a kiss, Katsuki. And no one’s watching."

He looked at you then—really looked at you. His crimson eyes held that calm intensity he only ever showed when his guard was down. He squeezed your hand just a little more, like it was his way of bracing himself.

Then, without another word, he leaned in.

His lips met yours with a quiet kind of gentleness. The kiss was slow. Intentional.

When he pulled away, he didn’t speak right away. He just rested his forehead against yours, the closeness lingering like warmth in the cold air.

"We didn’t need the mistletoe," he murmured finally, voice low and brushing your lips. "But it wasn’t bad."

"‘Wasn’t bad’?" you repeated, pretending to be offended.

He huffed.

"It was good. It was... you know."

"You look kinda cute like this," you whispered.

Bakugo pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

"Don’t say dumb shit."

But he didn’t let go. And neither did you.

And when, a few minutes later, Denki’s picture captured that moment where you were just standing under the mistletoe, holding hands... no one knew the real moment had already passed.

That the kiss had already happened. And that the part no one caught on camera—that was the one that truly mattered.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hihiii!

The most comforting thing to me is when my mom blow-dries my hair. The feeling of her hairbrush and the warmth is my favorite thing ever. 🤍 I was wondering how Katsuki would react if we asked him to blow dry our hair? You can make this as long or as short as you want, tysm!!!

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑁𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠

i went for a lil medium length moment bc katsuki being gentle like that? yeah. had me in a chokehold fr. tysm for sending this in!!

Bakugo was lying against the headboard, the sheets rumpled around his waist, iPad in hand. He pretended to be focused on what he was reading, but his eyes drifted up more often than he wanted to admit.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and there you were.

Wearing a light robe that barely covered your legs and a towel wrapped around your head, you walked over to the closet without saying a word. But you didn’t need to speak. Just your presence was enough to make him slowly lower the iPad, forgetting whatever it was he had in front of him.

He clicked his tongue, barely audible. Damn it. He’d never get used to that.

You came back wearing your pajamas—an oversized T-shirt that hit mid-thigh and comfy shorts that barely peeked out. Your bare feet made soft sounds on the wood floor as you sat in front of the vanity. Without rush, you plugged in the hair dryer, grabbed the thick-bristle round brush, and set everything on the surface before sitting up straight in front of the mirror.

That’s when you noticed.

Through the reflection, you saw him. Bakugo couldn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze followed your every move with a quiet intensity, like you were some sacred ritual he’d become addicted to without meaning to. You bit your lip to stop a smile… but failed.

You turned slightly, just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

"Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna come help me?"

His brow shot up immediately.

"What?" he grunted, shifting his body just a little, like he wasn’t a second away from throwing the covers off. "You do it yourself every night, don’t you?"

"I do," you said, with a slow, teasing smile. "But I’d like it more if you did it tonight."

Bakugo scoffed, setting the iPad down beside the bed, but he moved faster than his fake annoyance could justify.

"You're spoiled, y'know that?"

"And whose fault is that?"

He didn’t answer, but his mouth curved into a half-smile as he walked over to you, dragging his feet across the floor like moving was a chore...

He grabbed the dryer with one hand and the brush with the other, and without needing a single instruction, he gently took the towel off your head. Your shoulders gave a slight shiver from the cool air, but he was quick: his fingers ran through your damp hair first, carefully separating the strands with an almost reverent precision.

"I don’t even need to be gentle," he muttered. "You wash your hair with boiling water. You're gonna go bald."

"Liar," you said with a laugh. "My hair’s healthy. Tell me it doesn’t look healthy."

"Tch. Yeah, yeah… looks good. Always looks good."

The dryer began to hum softly, and the warmth wrapped around your nape, your temples, as he directed the heat with firm but gentle motions, brushing at the same time. He didn’t talk much. Occasionally, he asked you to tilt your head or stay still, but other than that, the silence spoke for him. The light tug of the brush, the way he threaded his fingers through the ends so he wouldn’t pull, how attentive he was without making a big deal of it… that was Bakugo.

Through the mirror, you watched him. His face was focused, brow slightly furrowed, tongue barely peeking out between his lips as he worked out a particularly stubborn strand.

"You're watching me," he said without looking up.

"So what?"

"You're fuckin' melting."

"And what if I am?" you said, voice soft. "I like it when you take care of me like this."

He leaned in, lowering his face to press a warm kiss to the top of your head, right where his fingers had been just moments ago.

"Hand me the tie," he murmured against your hair.

"And what if I don’t want a ponytail tonight?" you said playfully, turning your face a little to look at him.

Bakugo raised a brow.

"Oh yeah? What d’you want then?"

"Maybe… braids," you whispered, not looking away from him.

And even if his voice didn’t break the silence, the tenderness in his touch said it all.

His hands moved again, gently. Starting to trace the shape of an invisible braid.

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