a/n: thinking abt being super sleepy and kiss drunk with katsuki
“no more.” he mumbles against your lips.
“one more kats please?” you chase after his lips as he pulls back.
“you’re fallin asleep, princess.” he kisses you again and you whine.
“kats one more.” you blink your heavy lids up at him “kiss me til i fall asleep.” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to the bed with you.
“suppose.” he sighs and presses his lips softly to yours.
he peppers kisses across your lips, smiling with each soft sound that comes from you. he slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, slowly pushing in as he cradles your face. he deepens the kiss, thumbs stroking across your cheeks trying to lull you to bed.
your arms unravel from his neck and he pulls back to pepper the softest kisses across your face. he pulls the covers up and places a kiss on each of your eyelids before leaning back and admiring you.
“love you.” one last kiss to your lips before he curls around you.
“Get over here,” Bakugou said, glaring at you from across the bed. You had nearly scooched towards the edge of the mattress, dangerously close to falling off.
“You’re like a heater…” you whined. “No more cuddling for one night. Please?”
“WHAT?!” Bakugou looked like you told him to go jump off of a cliff. “The heat is not that bad! Just get over here!”
“No…”
You turned your back to him, hoping for a peaceful night’s rest. Oh how wrong you were.
Bakugou shuffled over to your side of the bed, muttering complaints as he finally reached your back.
He shook your shoulder gently. “Cuddle me.”
“Katsuki… no…”
Bakugou sighed.
“…Please?” His tone was surprisingly vulnerable. “If I take my shirt off, will that help? Just don’t wanna sleep alone without ya…”
You groaned cutely. “Fine, fine.”
He whipped off his shirt and you rolled into his strong arms. He exhaled contentedly, his face digging into your hair for comfort.
“This wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bakugou asked, his smile pressing into your head.
“If I die from overheating, it’s your fault. Remember that, sweetie.”
Katsuki has already turned seventeen by the time you wake up from your coma. Despite the late nights he spends at the hospital by your side, when you wake up, he is inevitably, at school. You wake up to Mitsuki Bakugo holding your hand.
Tags/CW: Bakugo x fem! Reader, high school sweethearts, estab! relationship, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, reader in a coma after the war, class 2-A is a soft menace, mom (in law lmao) Mitsuki is mothering, spoilers for season 8.
Despite it being hard to accept at the state you find yourself in, or even realise it at first, Mitsuki is the one by your bedside when you wake up.
For a second you’re convinced you’re dreaming. The room is too bright, the sheets too stiff, and Katsuki’s mom is sitting there like she fought her way past three nurses and a steel door just to sit and stare at you. Which, knowing her, she probably did.
Her arms are crossed, but her foot is tapping like she’s been waiting a long time. Like she’s been worried. And that solemn look on her face is screaming an apology you don’t recognise yet.
“’Bout time,” she mutters, voice sharp but thin around the edges. “You scared the hell out of us, kid.”
Your throat tightens as you glance, puzzled, around the room. It’s empty, aside from Mitsuki's chair, your bed, and the iv attached to the tender inside of your elbow. No friends, no parents, not a begrunting boyfriend… just Mitsuki and a hospital room you don’t recognise.
In a swift movement, she clasps your hand inside her palms. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Your parents couldn’t make it to Japan yet.” she says and you blink at her.
The lump in your throat starts bubbling in pain. Your lip quivers next, eyes watering at the fraction of a second. The moment you try to move, the dull ache in your ribs reminds you why you’re here in the first place.
“I’m so sorry,”
You try to speak, but find your lips feel like they’re glued together. It hurts when you pry them and it hurts even worse when you try to speak.
“Ka–”
Panic ensues at the sound of your voice. How long have you been here? You don’t even recognise your own voice. Where you could hear softness, you now hear raspiness, broken sounds that can’t form a word.
But still, you want to ask—The last thing you remember is watching Katsuki fall to the ground with his chest torn, you lurching towards Shigaraki with all you had and white hot pain everywhere in your body.
“Kats–Kaah–”
Mitsuki’s eyes flick to your abdomen, the monitors attached to you, then back to you again. Softer, barely “Katsuki? He usually doesn’t leave until he passes out sitting up. Brat’s got stubbornness.”
“Miss—Mitsuk—Mitsuki, my m—mom,”
The sound rips out of you like gravel dragged across concrete, and Mitsuki is already moving— one hand on your shoulder, the other hovering like she wants to fix something she can’t reach.
“Hey, hey— don’t force it,” she says, voice dropping into that hushed, frantic register only mothers have when something hurts their kid. Or a kid who might as well be theirs.
She reaches for the small cup of ice chips on the tray next to your bed, scooping a few with the spoon and pressing it gently to your lips. “Just this, sweetheart. Slow.”
The cold hits your tongue, sharp and clean, and for a moment it’s the only thing keeping you together. Everything else feels like it’s drifting —your memories, your breath, the distant echo of Nejire screaming your name before everything went dark.
Mitsuki watches you swallow, her jaw tight, eyes shining with things she will never say out loud.
“You’ve been out for a few months,” she adds quietly. “Masaru is trying to get ahold of your folks, along with the doctors but… you know how time zones are. And… circumstances.” Her mouth twists like she hates how uptight she’s being. Like practiced softness physically pains her. “We didn’t want you waking up alone.”
Your chest pulls tight. It shouldn’t mean as much as it does. But it does.
Your fingers clutch weakly at the blanket. “K–” The name falls apart in your throat again.
Mitsuki seems to understand anyway.
“He’s alive,” she says firmly. “He’s at school and he’s healing, but he’s alive. Stubborn little shit tried to pretend he wasn’t feeling okay just so they wouldn’t kick him out of your room last night. He’s been visiting everyday.”
Your breath shudders. Relief hits so hard you feel dizzy.
“And— just so you don’t freak out later—” Mitsuki adds, rubbing your hand with her thumb in a rare, almost guilty motion, “he might start crying a lot.”
That makes you freeze.
Mitsuki sighs, leaning back in the chair like the confession took something out of her. She stops herself from telling you the doctors had announced to everyone that you would probably not make it, not too long ago.
“Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll yell at both of us.”
She glances toward the door, then back at you. “He’s gonna be pissed you woke up without him here. Believe me. But, we’ll tell him after classes are over. You okay with that sweetheart?”
You nod, or at least you think you do. Your head barely moves, just a slow dip that makes the world tilt a little. You’re not sure if you’re agreeing or just reacting to the tenderness in her voice — something you’ve never quite heard directed at you like this, so softly, before.
“Good,” Mitsuki murmurs, like she was bracing for you to argue. Her hand squeezes yours gently, thumb brushing over the back in a slow, steady rhythm that feels like it’s meant to keep you anchored.
You swallow again, rough and painful. The word “classes” sticks in your mind like a burr. Katsuki is… at school. The school is alright if that’s the case, and maybe, your friends are too, your teachers, All Might. There’s so much you want to ask, but such little strength inside you.
Mitsuki watches your face carefully. “He wanted to skip,” she says, rolling her eyes as if the memory frustrates her. “Said he didn’t care about his damn education if you were—” She cuts herself off. Too sharp. Too honest.
Another small, guilty sigh. “Anyway. We made him go. The teachers insisted. Kid was a wreck. No sleep, no food… I swear he almost blew up a vending machine because someone told him to ‘keep his chin up.’”
Despite the pain, a weak ghost of a laugh bubbles in your chest — a tiny sound, but it pulls at your ribs like something tearing.
Mitsuki immediately notices. “Easy. Easy, sweetheart,” she whispers, leaning in, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to talk yet. You don’t have to do anything yet.”
But you want to. You want to ask what happened, how bad it was, whether Katsuki’s really okay or just putting on a front because that’s what he does when the world is falling apart around him.
You try again, voice scraping out of you like rough smoke: “H–how…?”
She shakes her head fast, stopping you before the sentence can hurt you more. “Later. When Katsuki’s here.” Her voice softens, unbearably so. “He deserves to hear you first.”
Your breath stutters, the weight of that landing somewhere deep and tender.
Mitsuki reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead. The gesture is so gentle it barely feels real.
“We’ll tell him after school,” she repeats softly. “He’ll come running the second he hears. And he’s gonna be loud, and dramatic, and probably hug you too hard. But he needs this. He needs you.”
Her voice cracks just a little on that last word. Barely noticeable, unless you’re looking for it. And you are.
“Rest now,” she adds, settling back into her chair but not letting go of your hand.
______
Later that evening, the hallway outside your room is louder than it should be for a hospital — muffled bickering, restless footsteps, a sharp whisper that’s definitely Kaminari complaining he’s been standing too long. With your eyes barely opening from your earlier slumber, you can hear Kirishima gently shushing him. Someone — Mina, probably — keeps insisting they should “just peek in real quick because what if she’s awake?”
You also catch the hissed argument that’s delivered as a response “Dude, stop— she might be asleep again!” and “I’m not stopping, you stop!”
Their silhouettes shuffle under the doorframe’s faint light, shadows overlapping like they can’t decide whether to crowd closer or bolt down the hall.
You blink slow, the world tilting for a moment, and the ceiling swims into focus. Your throat is dry. Your body feels like it’s made of bandages and cement. But your brain? Your brain catches up just enough to realize:
They’re here. All of them. A soft exhale escapes you— barely a sound, but apparently loud enough for the enhanced senses of teens with superpowers.
Mitsuki nods her head towards the door and chuckles. “They can’t wait to see you,” The commotion outside stops all at once, like someone hit pause. Then—
“Did you hear that?!”
“Kaminari, shut up—”
“Wait, wait— I think she’s awake—”
“Katsuki’s gonna kill us if we go in—”
“Oh my god. Just. Check!”
Kirishima’s voice breaks through the chaos; firm, gentle, leader-of-the-chaos-crew mode “Guys. Calm down. We’ll knock first.”
There’s a beat of silence and then three different knuckles rap on the door at the exact same time. Your chest shakes with a tiny, pained laugh that’s followed by a thunderous cough. The whispering begins again immediately.
“Bro— I said one person should knock!”
“That wasn’t me!”
“You literally have the loudest knuckles, Sero!”
“How do you even know that—”
Someone sighs. Hard. You recognise the sound as Izuku, doing that tight little anxious inhale before he tries to be responsible.
“Should I… um… should I ask Recovery Girl if we’re allowed—?”
“No, if Kacchan shows up and we’re gone, he’ll blast us into space—”
“Oh he’s definitely gonna show up—”
You try shifting, just enough to look toward the door. A small movement, but enough to tug at something deep in your gut. You wince, which apparently sends the hallway into frenzy.
And before they manage to organize themselves, one brave soul reaches for the door handle.
Mina’s whisper—undoubtedly its hers—cuts through the noise “Okay, on three—”
You have exactly one second to process that, and tighten your hold around Mitsuki’s hand as hard as you can, before a hand curls around the knob and another, much sharper voice snaps from down the hall.
“Touch that door and I swear to god you’re dead.”
Every single voice outside vanishes. You don’t even need to see him to know who said it. Katsuki.
Last time you laid eyes on him he was in a puddle of his own blood, chest torn, right arm destroyed. The thought alone is making your jaw tremble.
Your stomach flips; your eyes do that stupid thing where they well up so much that they sting and your heart kicks into a frantic rhythm, strong enough that the monitor beside you responds with a panicked series of beeps.
For a fragment, you come to believe this is a dream. An afterlife experience. Some sick and twisted purgatory. Some strange, cruel limbo replaying the moments before everything went black.
Mitsuki reacts before you do. She leans in, her free hand hovering near your shoulder as if she can physically hold you together while the monitor continues its frantic beeping. “Easy,” she murmurs, voice low. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re fine.”
Her thumb presses gently into the back of your hand, grounding you.
The footsteps outside slow, the scrape of rubber soles against the linoleum deliberate now, controlled in that way Katsuki walks when he’s trying to stop himself from running. There’s a muffled scuffle—someone tripping over someone else during their attempt to scramble out of his path.
The doorknob turns. Not violently, but slowly. Carefully. Like he’s afraid the world behind it might shatter if he enters too fast.
The door opens halfway, and Katsuki steps inside.
He’s out of breath, but it's the kind where he’s trying very hard not to show. His hair, shorter than you remember, is a mess from whatever fight he had with the wind on the way here. His uniform shirt is wrinkled, sleeves pushed up his forearms in uneven rolls, and his tie is gone entirely.
But none of that is what gets you. It’s the way he stops actually. Abruptly.
And not because Mitsuki is in his way or because your friends are whisper-squabbling just outside the door. He stops because he sees you.
Awake.
His eyes widen first, a stunned flicker of disbelief that washes over his face before he can hide it. Then everything in him seems to go slack for a moment — shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, the tension dissolving so suddenly it looks like his legs might give out.
“No fucking way,” he breathes, so quietly it barely reaches the room. His gaze flits across your face, ignoring his mother’s plea for decent language.
Whatever strength he had walked in with drains from his posture all at once. His breath catches on a sound too close to a sob, and he stumbles two steps forward before genuinely stopping himself, like he’s afraid he might do the wrong thing and make you hurt again.
The monitor chooses that exact moment to spike again, a sharp, accusing beep-beep-beep echoing through the walls.
Katsuki flinches, just barely. His eyes flash to the machine, then to your hand clutching Mitsuki’s, then back up to you. Something like guilt — real, aching guilt — tightens his expression. His head jerks toward yours and in the same instant he looks completely gutted—like the beeping is some damning confirmation that you’re in pain because of him, that all those months of him replaying the footage of you almost getting torn apart in half, ignoring every warning from people who told him not to, all led to this moment right here: you trembling, terrified, trying to hold yourself together.
He tries to say your name, but it dissolves into a choked gasp. Tears are already spilling, hot and unguarded, not even wiped away. Katsuki Bakugo—who never cries—can’t stop crying.
Instinct drags you forward. You try to sit up, to reach for him, anything to close the distance, but the muscles in your abdomen seize. A bolt of pain rips through you so sharply your vision whites out, and you collapse back into the bed with a strangled breath.
“Stay still!” Mitsuki catches your shoulder before you can tear something, her voice shaking now too. “Sweetheart, you can’t move—”
Your hand slips from hers anyway, desperate to get to him.
“Hey—” His voice cuts off, a sob and cracks, embarrassing him. He swallows hard, trying again. “Hey. Take it easy, you dummy.”
He says it softly. Too softly for it to be an insult.
Katsuki kneels swiftly beside the bed, and his scarred hand hovers over yours.
When he finally touches your hand, it’s feather-light, trembling with the same fear and relief burning in his eyes. He doesn’t grip, doesn’t hold too tight, doesn’t let go either. He rests his palm over yours, as if he’s anchoring himself to you while afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt you.
You notice he’s holding a flower inside his other hand. Your eyes widen at the sight and he looks down at his hand too, muttering “It’s for you. A ‘get well soon’”
“Katsu–tsuk–ki” you breathe out, shakingly.
Your fingers twitch, wanting to wrap around his hand, to pull him closer, to fix the broken edges of him the way he’s holding onto you. You try to shift, to ease closer, but your abdomen flares with pain and you freeze, groaning softly.
He freezes too, instantly still, and looks at you with wide, frantic eyes. “Hey… hey, hey, I—I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking, almost pleading.
Then, slowly, he adjusts himself so he can lean against you without putting weight on your ribs. His hand over yours flexes, releases, flexes again, as if he can’t decide whether to grip or just stay connected to you.
His tears fall freely now, soaking your fingers, and the sound of him crying forces tears to come out of your eyes too.
All you can do is squeeze his hand back, as much as your pain will allow, and whisper his name again.
He takes it, eve though his own hand aches like it’s being pierced, because the touch is not just an ember that you’re alive. It’s the undeniable fact that you’re awake.
And Katsuki is just so, so happy that this one good thing happens to him, he doesn’t even mind that the rest of the class storms inside minutes later and everyone sees him crying.
Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
cw: men who yearn, physical affection, kissing, soft bakugo, muscles described, kissing, swearing, & not proofread
ⓘ Featuring Bakugo initiating affection doesn't happen often, so when it does, you should keep it going.
Waiting up for Katsuki is kind of like playing around with a claw machine. You never really know what you're going to get.
It could be a prize you'll cherish forever. Like a kiss, an invite to shower together, a moment of weakness, or the rarest of all. When he falls into bed next to you and sleeps it off on your chest.
But it also has the possibility of getting nothing but a tired grunt while downing a bottle of water or just falling into bed without a word.
But no matter what he does, it's always worth it. He'll never push you away if you initiate affection, letting you rake your fingers through his hair & sleepily attaching.
"Honey?" You rasped, glancing over your shoulder at the feeling of Katsuki pressing his chest flat against your back. "What are you doing?"
He got home later than normal, looked unkempt & told you to go ahead and go to sleep while he showered.
"Nothing," Kats mumbled, eyes visibly tired, as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. hauling you close enough to tuck his face into the crook of your neck and press a soft kiss there.
"Baby. I'm trying to sleep." You mused, bringing up a hand to lightly tug at his blond strands.
"Hey. Shut up. I'm trying to get comfortable." He hissed, nipping at your cheek as he rubbed your stomach slowly. "Didn't mean to wake you. Just wanted to hold ya' tonight."
A soft sigh escaped your lips as you rolled over to press your chest firmly against his bare chest. "Hadn't fallen asleep yet; don't worry."
You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before tenderly tracing the scar there, watching in delight as the blush spread across Katsuki's cheeks.
"You're such a nerd sometimes." He huffed, grasping your hips & rubbing the soft skin slowly. "Not fair, I'm tired, no. Sleep-deprived."
"Long night?" You whispered, quickly pulling the blanket over his bare back, your fingertips lingering on his toned biceps before dragging up to tangle in his damp blond hair.
He always had this look in his eye after an annoyingly long night patrol, but tonight it just looked somber.
"You could say that, yeah." He admitted, leaning into your touch just a little, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "It's been a long, long night, honestly."
"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered, trying to soothe him, sliding your hands to rest comfortably on his chest. "I don't mind staying up longer."
"No. No, not tonight." He shook his head before tucking you under his chin, moving to rub your shoulder gently. "I just want to hold you right now, if that's alright?"
It was your turn to blush, letting out a quick gasp at his warm chest pressing against your face before nodding quickly. "That's fine, baby; we can just sleep too."
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : rewrote my favorite Bakugo fic to celebrate 12k. original.
✦ katsuki and his shy girl get to third base ⸝⸝ .ᐟ
ꉂ — warnings : kissing, brief marking, p in v, teasing, pwp ✦˚˖ ᵎᵎ
take it off. three short words that's somehow snowballed into this — bodies stuck together through the haze of warmth and sweat, a hand splayed gently over your hip while his other makes quick work between your thighs.
it hasn't even been thirty minutes since katsuki had his face pressed against your chest, your thighs wrapped around his head. small moments that led to you laid on the bed with your legs spread, two of his fingers dragging in and out of you.
even with the waves of pleasure, you still wish this bed could swallow you whole. save you from the intoxicating feeling of his fingers, and that stare that tells you he's engraving every inch of you to memory.
"should i stop now?" he questions, bracing himself above you as his fingers pull wet sounds from your core, "you think you can take me?"
blissed out in your own high, all you can manage is a nod — a whisper of his name slipping from your lips when his fingers leave you completely.
your eyes flick to his, impatience glinting behind them — something that doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend.
"what're you thinking about?"
his hands are already tugging at his boxers, slinking them down the length of his waist as he frees himself from the tight fabric.
"you gotta talk to me" he chuckles at your slack jaw, pumping himself from base to tip before he's inching towards your entrance, "not doin' shit unless you talk to me"
smug asshole.
a jolt shoots up your spine when he taps his length against your folds, once, then twice — thin lines of slick connecting you.
your hands are practically glued to your face now, heat setting in like a tidal wave when he presses against your entrance, just to pull away once more, "katsuki"
"hm? what is it?"
he guides your hands away from your face, burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck and planting chaste kisses against your cheek.
"please."
"please what?"
"katsuki, you know what."
"okay, okay," he snorts out a laugh, prying himself from the spot in your neck and smiling at the dark bruise already blossoming, "'m gonna go slow. you gotta tell me if it hurts though, alright?"
a nod normally wouldn't be accepted so easily — but when every inch of him is aching to touch you, he thinks he'll let it slide just this once.
an elbow digs into the mattress next to your head, his other hand guiding himself along your entrance — foreheads knocking together as you both peer between the valley of your bodies watching him sink inside you.
no feeling could compare to the one in this very moment. perfection in the form katsuki bakugou settling into every part of you
your neck falls against the sheets, all hopes of hiding your sounds slipping away with every new inch.
katsuki's not so composed either, sweat-soaked forehead pressed against yours as he bottoms out with his lip between his teeth. low grumbles of your name muffled in your shoulder as he basks in the feeling — the feeling of you.
a comfortable silence fills the room, bodies heaving as he forces himself to be still inside you.
"good? f-fuck, are you good?" he murmurs, lapping at his bottom lip to clean the metallic droplets from the force of his bite, "won't move until . . . until you say i can, promise. but fuck baby, you feel s'good"
"move, katsuki"
". . . you sure? i'm not forcing you into anything if you're not ready—"
"katsuki, move now please." you groan, hips grinding down against him in search of any friction you can get. "please."
to say katsuki's amazed is an understatement. heart racing against his ribcage as you writhe beneath him despite the expression on your face — as if your body spoke more truths than your mind ever could as you cling to him in your desperate haze.
"ok," he starts, readjusting himself above you. "ok, yeah 'm gonna move."
and he does, slow and measured — dragging against every inch of you as if it's his god-given solace.
he's never felt more intoxicated. barely able to keep eye contact when you cup his face and moan against his lips. katsuki's hypntoized by it all, crimson orbs drinking in every reaction he pulls from you.
and he's always prided himself on being the steady one, a comforting balance when the grip of anxiety gets to be too much. but when you pull him closer like space is a barrier, moan softly in his ear — katsuki's not sure who's grounding who.
a/n: hello 🤓 we all say thank you to @lilithkleia, @gyalcapone and bb @riotsgrl for tokkushin not deactivating! hooray! more of this! + even more | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
❥you & bakugo won’t say you’re dating, but there will be signs
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #1.
observed by — mina ashido
“y/n says she and bakugo aren’t dating. but i swear i caught them playing footsies during study hall.”
⟡
mina assumes it’s a trick of the light.
sero’s stalking hot moms on facebook. denki & kiri are trying to start a fire with a comically large magnifying glass. & when mina sees bakugo tickle your ankle with the toe of his sock, mina’s quick to assume the sight’s caused by the refractive index of light through the magnifying glass or whatever mumbo-jumbo they learned during last tuesday’s physics class.
but it happens again.
and this time you giggle.
and so mina has no choice but to accept magnifying glasses cannot bend sound.
mina puts on sero’s eyeglasses. they’re purely decorative, but she feels more intuitive regardless. she buries her nose between CGP’s A-Level biology guide & pretends she isn’t observing the way your eyes glint anytime you manage to nick katsuki in the shins.
bakugo’s face is stone still.
to the untrained eye, he’s simply solving calculus questions a mile a minute. but then he grunts.
mina doesn’t miss the way he grins when he nabs you in the thigh.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #2.
observed by — sero hanta
‘bakugo swears y/n isn’t anyone special to him. so why the hell does he have her contact saved as ‘mine?’
⟡
the first time sero hanta ever decides to show up early, he’s stuck waiting at a theatre with an angry bakugo at his side.
not to say the fiery blond isn’t usually angry. but this time said anger comes with heat: he’s grinding straw between his molars so hard plastic cracks between his teeth. his feet tap like it’ll make time go by sooner. it doesn’t.
“i’m gonna kill that damn shitty hair.”
“we’re the ones who’re thirty minutes early.”
“shut the fuck up.”
dumb dog sero hanta does as he’s told. katsuki stews a little longer, neck rash red, phone clicking locked & unlocked till he decides he’s had enough—or till the anger reaches his bladder. “‘m going to the bathroom, watch my shit.”
katsuki doesn’t bother waiting for a reply. his hands shove in his pockets as he makes his way to the bathroom, phone tucked firm between sero’s palms. sero hanta knows better than to hold it with anything less than an iron grip. but then it buzzes—& almost cartoonishly, the phone hops & skips before settling between his fingers
sero sees the notification before he can pretend otherwise.
mine🫀: mina and i are otw
mine🫀 : hope we’ll make it. this girl can NOT drive.
sero muffles a snort. the text holds truth, mina cannot, in fact drive. he recalls the time she picked him up to go to the beach and—wait.
is that text from y/n?
he’s quick to take a picture, send it to the ‘inBESTigators 🕵️🔍’ GC. before he can even close his phone & resume playing saint, kiri’s response comes in.
ripped riot 🔥: could be a typo
ripped riot 🔥: like ‘mine’ could be short for miner
pikachu ⚡️[replying to ripped riot 🔥] : are we deadass
sero’s about to type a response of his own before the familiar heavy steps of steve maddens sag at his ears. katsuki’s back, jaw tight & angrier than ever.
further investigation will have to wait.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #3.
observed by — denki kaminari
‘when the fuck did bakugo get funny?’
⟡
autumn break means thanksgiving shopping & black friday sales that make twelve dollar products drop to eleven ninety-nine. denki’s shopping for snacks, kiri needs energy drinks & you’re here for produce. katsuki is here because you all need his membership to get into costco.
something isn’t right.
& denki’s not talking about how the price of cheetos have somehow gone up. he’s talking about the fact that katsuki stands firm behind you, hands in pockets as you show him fruit. that’s fine—bakugo’s always been able to tell which apples are good & which aren’t.
but no apple evaluation requires katsuki to lean in that close.
and denki’s pretty sure there’s nothing funny about granny smiths either.
so why the fuck are you giggling ?
kaminari’s eyes flit to katsuki’s. if he was any other classmate, he’d say katsuki was bored. lips tight, eyes neutral, jaw slack. but denki’s no other classmate. he recognizes that twitch in his brow. the bob in his jugular.
katsuki is pleased. at least, denki thinks—no, swears he is. but just to be safe, he chooses to call in an actual katsuki expert. kirishima’s fatass is trying yet another free sample. for the sake of peace, denki chooses not to comment & instead goes straight to business.
“yo, kiri—i’m not seeing stuff, right? is bakugo not smirking and making y/n laugh??”
kirishima, in true fatass fashion, responds with a mouth filled with mini tacos. “I down’t see ‘t”
“bro. chew.”
“I don’t see it,” kiri gulps. “don’t you think we should respect their privacy?”
“we’re at a costco??”
but kaminari drops it. if the katsuki expert himself says there’s nothing, there’s obviously nothing.
right ?
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #4.
observed by — literally everyone
‘katsuki and y/n are definitely dating. oh, and kiri’s getting kicked from the group chat.’
⟡
mina ashido is not playing around.
the rest of the gang isn’t either. kaminari’s flipping through a scrapbook titled ‘PHOTOGRAPHICAL EVIDENCE.’ sero’s screenshotting group chat messages that sound too fond to not be affectionate. kirishima’s got his laptop open, looking over ‘evidence spreadsheets’ he swears aren’t empty.
but they are. and mina, rivaled only by sherlock himself, notices.
“kirishima, cell B-4. what’s written in there ?”
“I—uh, cell? what do you—“
“aha—” mina shuts her book. she’s towering over eijiro now, hands on her hips & glare so sharp it melts kiri like—well, acid.
“you’re not really doing anything.”
sero lifts a brow. kaminari gives the stink-eye.
“matter of fact…” mina continues, “you haven’t done anything. compiling evidence. listening in on on their convos. you haven’t done anything we’ve asked you to.”
“yeah,” sero quips. his phone’s in his lap now. “matter of fact, you always had some excuse about why you couldn’t.”
“matter of fact,” denki joins, “you’re always trying to deny evidence. talking about us ‘being delusional’.”
oh, kirishima’s in trouble now. blood in his jugular. tar in his throat. “I—“
mina can’t make up what happens next.
The door opens. It’s katsuki—not surprising—they’re literally all seated in a circle on the mat in his dorm. plans to hang out & just chill today—the usual. kiri is bakugo’s roommate. getting in isn’t a fuss.
but you’re right beside bakugo.
and your finger’s in his belt loop.
mina blinks. you haven’t noticed them yet. you look all calm and pretty, lashes low, eyes glued to your phone screen. your finger’s looped around the belt-hole like you’ve done it a thousand times before, and—
is that katsuki’s hoodie?
“what the fuck are you losers doing here?”
kiri’s already scrambling to defend the situation—something about she & the others showing up an hour early, he didn’t know, don’t blast us all—but mina’s not listening. she’s wondering if the refractive index of light is so strong it somehow made it look like katsuki gave your hand a light squeeze before tapping your hand off his jeans.
you’re still quiet behind him. hair all cute, jam-pink cheeks, fawn freckled & doe-eyed. kiri and katsuki are going back and forth. sero’s joined in. kaminari’s farted because he thinks no one will notice.
“y/n, is that bakugo’s hoodie?”
you can hear a pin drop. and another fart from kaminari.
“no, it’s—“
“it’s mine.” katsuki steps forward, hands in pockets & posture lazy like he didn’t say something scandalous. “got a problem, pinkie pie?”
“i could never.”
katsuki hums. he tugs you gently by the palm, door clicking shut behind him with the kick of his shin. he trudges toward the group, right hand in his pocket, left in yours—and he murmurs a quiet sit in your ear before doing a once-over.
“what’s all this?”
“evidence.”
“homework.”
“not evidence.”
tongue click. “evidence of ?”
“the refractive index of light.”
“you and y/n dating.”
“not you and y/n dating.”
“uh-huh,” katsuki picks up a photograph. he recognizes the scene: you’re tucked in his side, showing him something on your phone while he leans too close to be considered casual. you’re giggling here. cute.
he pockets it. “you guys are a bunch of fuckin’ idiots. and you—“ he turns to kirishima,
“no, no bro listen,” kirishima’s palm rests on his neck, an apologetic glance in your direction before he answers, “I did try to get them to leave you guys alone. they wouldn’t listen!”
“aha! so you were a traitor!”
bakugo glares. mina shrinks.
a muffled giggle pierces the silence. then a snort. & now you’re full on laughing—
“oh my god,” you sniffle, “you guys know we were literally gonna tell you, right?”
“tell us when?” sero speaks up, long moved away from kaminari. “it seems kiri here already knew about it.”
bakugo grunts. “why do you idiots think you’re here?”
oh.
bakugo takes a seat beside you. sero’s avoiding eye contact. kaminari’s avoiding the cheetos. mina bites her lip. you’re leaning over katsuki’s thigh now, photo evidence flip-book in your hands. you’re pointing out familiar photos while laughing & shaking your head, and bakugo’s looking back with a gaze so soft that mina doesn’t know how she didn’t see it sooner.
“i think we owe you two an apology.”
katsuki’s got his fingers twisting your knuckle. “y’think?”
sero, mina, and denki all look towards each other.
“we’re sorry.”
“for what?”
“for stalking you guys.”
“and not trusting that you’d tell us.”
“and being idiots.”
katsuki hums, satisfied. but he’s not done yet. he leans back on his palms before gently poking your hip. “should we forgive ‘em?”
“maybe. if they can send some of these photos.”
bakugo nods, turns to mina. “you heard the missus.”
“girl, take the whole book. like—seriously. omg.”
you hug it towards your chest, and mina can tell bakugo’s fighting a smile.
“right. and since you guys know now, you can all leave.”
the three protest. kiri interrupts. “i think it’s for the best. it’s been a long day.”
“that includes you, shitty hair.”
“huh—what?! this is my room too!”
“don’t care,” katsuki tugs you up with him, grip gentle, palm flat against your back as he steers you towards his bed.
“and didn’t ask,” he glances over his shoulder, “all of you, out.”
you told katsuki you were a virgin much before your relationship started, and thankfully katsuki was actually pretty nervous about that shit anyways, mostly cause he was a little bitch deep down but also because he was terrified of hurting or scaring you off. sooo, you had time to get comfortable around him before you had to start worrying about sex. it didn’t worry katsuki either, not at the start of your relationship atleast. but when the time started to get around three months of dating, he was losing control. the more inlove and consumed he became .. the more harder trying to control the urges he promised he buried down became.
it became so bad nearly everything you did made him hard. you had this natural purity about you, the idea of corrupting and taking your virginity .. being the first to bury himself inside of you. it fucking ruined him.
the kitchen glowed with a soft warmth, sunlight spilling through the windows while the stove filled the room with gentle heat. beside you, katsuki moved around the counter with rolled sleeves and flour-dusted hands, making the whole space feel warmer than it had any right to.
you wanted to help him make dinner, obviously your help consisted of you standing there watching him stir the sauce. “yknow your a great help.” he muttered dryly, sarcasm coating his words as his eyes flicked to you. “you literally won’t even let me help.” his response was an eye roll but the corner of his lips quirked into a smile. mindlessly, he dipped two of his thick fingers into the sauce the consistency thick against his digits. “oo— i wanna try!” you stated, he stood back expecting you to do anything other then grab his hand and wrap your mouth around his fingers, your tongue flattened beneath his fingers gently sucking on the seasoning.
you’d think for katsuki he’d have some cocky reaction, but he just froze. unable to process the blooming feeling in his stomach. he didn’t feel like he was in control of the situation, blush coated his cheeks much more obvious then he’d like to admit, internally he swore he could feel all the blood rush to his cock as the hardening length strained against the fabric of his boxers.
his eyebrows were slightly pulled inwards as a little sound left his throat but the second your eyes met the weakened red ones looking at you, his composure pulled back. you had to manually pull his fingers from your mouth with your hand
watching in real time as his head almost dropped. “i-i uh gotta go to the bathroom. jus- stay here.” he muttered all the usual dry strain in his voice had melted down into a clearer sorta more aware vocality.
you hummed as he walked off, slowly smiling to yourself because it was just so easy to get to katsuki and you knew the second you let him on you he’d be fucking you senseless, you’ve always wondered how long can katsuki bakugo really hold out for?
don’t kill me cause it isn’t jaw droppingly freaky
