synopsis: bakugou is assigned to visit an elementary school every friday as part of a new hero outreach program. though this friday's hero field day left a lot more surprises than he had anticipated.
cw: fluff, slow burn romance, prohero!bakugou and teacher!reader, light teasing/banter, bakugou being bakugou, canon-typical hero themes, angst kinda?eventual romance,
a/n: this is a series! part one is here!. also might keep the title, i think it grew on me. or if anyone has suggestions for a better title? or any suggestions for the series at all? my asks are open!
Bakugou has started to look forward to his Fridays, but it’s not like he’d ever actually admit that.
It was just the schedule. The hero outreach program was every Friday, and he had committed to it. The kids enjoyed it, and it was good practice for future heroes. That was all.
Except lately, Thursday nights had started feeling longer than usual.
The program was always the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep and the first thing he thought about when his alarm dragged him awake the next Friday morning. His eyes cracked open, rays of sunlight already leaking through the gap in his curtains. They turned his ash blonde tufts of hair into little rays of sunlight, messily splayed across his forehead.
Bakugou wondered what was on the agenda for today’s Hero Course Program before the answer came to him a second later, his paper schedule flashing through his mind.
Today is Hero Field Day. Bakugou scoffs at the thought in his mind. Some type of kiddie bullshit so all the students can have fun and exchange information about what they’ve learned through the hero course program. Whatever, that part doesn't concern him much.
He pulls his arms behind his head to rest on them, now pondering in the morning glow. He wondered if you'd be wearing that stupid cardigan again.
Bakugou blinks away his tiredness in frustration, the edges of his eyelids still sore with every pass. Why does he know what type of cardigan you wear? He sprawls his muscular limbs across his bed, his soft cotton sheets spread to cover his crotch and upper thigh. He stared up at the ceiling, annoyed with himself before he’d even gotten out of bed.
It was just a cardigan. A piece of clothing. A completely normal thing to notice about someone he saw every week. Of course he would grow fond of someone he’s regularly interacting with.
Except he didn’t remember what any of his coworkers wore when they were out of costume. Or what color their mugs were. Or how their perfume smelled. Or what they looked like when they tucked their hair behind their ear, or when their lips curl up slightly before they start to giggle, hand rushing to cover their mouth as they smiled wider.
His jaw tightened.
Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, and somehow he’d managed to develop a problem. Every damn day he told himself to knock it off. She was a teacher. He was there to do his job. End of story.
But every time he walked into that classroom, his eyes found her before anyone else. Every time she laughed at something stupid, it stuck with him longer than it should’ve. These past few weeks, he’s shut down villains bigger than buildings. Negotiated media interviews and rescue operations under pressure.
Yet somehow he couldn’t stop thinking about one damn teacher. He slowly dragged a jagged hand down his tired face, sighing before forcing himself to get up for the day.
Hero Field Day. The idea was actually a little exciting. With the weather finally warming up over the past few weeks, the school board had decided to host the event outdoors as a celebration of the Pro Heroes who volunteered their time to inspire the future heroes of Sakura Elementary.
The setup looked very cute from what you saw when you walked in this morning, it should be pretty fun for the kids.
You turned toward them at the doorframe of your classroom, reminding them what a single-file line was supposed to look like. The excited kids shuffled into something that resembled a line. Crooked, with a few students grouped together at the back.
“Okay,” you started, raising your voice just enough to gather their attention. “Who remembers the rules for our Hero Field Day today?”
You lifted your hand as an example, and almost immediately, tiny hands shot into the air. You smiled, scanning the eager faces before calling on one of your students.
“No fighting, no crying, and stay with a friend!”
“Exactly.”
You waited until the chatter died down before motioning for them to follow you into the hallway, Walking backward toward the exit —this was a skill you’ve learned over the years. Your eyes continuously swept over the line of students, making sure everyone stayed together.
You didn’t notice Bakugou leaning against the exit door, watching as you guided your students toward him. No cardigan today. His eyes dropped for half a second. New jeans, though. They looked good.
The hero immediately frowned, pushing the thought away before it could settle. Before he could catch one more glance to see the brand name of your new pants, you turned around, nearly walking straight into him before your feet come to a quick stop.
Your smile was bright enough to catch him off gaurd. “You came back!”
Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his hero costume, deliberately looking past your gaze. “I work here.”
One brow arched. “You work at an elementary school now?”
A quiet scoff left him. You continued to walk out of the door into the field with your class, Bakugou staying close beside you. “Once a week. Don’t be a smartass.”
His words lacked any real bite, and the corner of your mouth lifted a little further because you knew it. This time, he actually looked at you. His gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary, taking in the warmth in your expression, the way you seemed genuinely happy to see him. It was nice.
When you finally stepped onto the sprawling school field, you couldn’t help but pause. It was even better than you’d imagined. Colorful booths stretched across the grass, each one decorated to match the hero running it. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, music drifted through the air, and the excited chatter of hundreds of students filled every corner of the field.
You tried to recall the details from the Field Day Protocol email the school had sent out the week before, though by now it had long since been buried beneath a mountain of unread messages.
Every hero participating in the Heroes Public Safety Commission’s program at Sakura Elementary was there, each standing alongside the class they’d been assigned to throughout the year. The field had been divided into different stations, each one designed around the hero running it, showcasing their quirks, their strengths, and the skills they used as heroes.
You had to admit, it was actually a pretty thoughtful idea.
You spotted Lemillion in the distance, standing proudly beside his station. The Number One Hero. It was still a little surreal seeing someone like him here, spending his Friday afternoon at an elementary school field day. But more than anything, it made you appreciate the heroes involved even more. The fact that the Number One and Number Two heroes were willing to step away from their busy schedules to encourage the next generation of heroes said a lot about them.
Lemillion’s station was titled Save the Civilians. A giant inflatable building structure sat in the middle of the field, with stuffed animals scattered throughout the “damaged” building, waiting to be rescued. You could already guess the objective: students would have to crawl through tunnels, squeeze through obstacles, and “phase” through hanging curtains to reach the civilians trapped inside.
Judging by the excited screams coming from the station, it was already a hit. Lemillion beamed down at each of the kids with his signature smile. He was actually a lot more handsome in person, you thought.
Your attention drifted back to Dynamight’s field day station, finally taking in the setup you’d been too distracted to notice before.
A large sign overhead read BLAST ZONE. The course was packed with obstacles. Cardboard villains lurked around corners, while others were rigged to spring up without warning as the kids made their way through. Their mission was simple: toss “grenades”—bean bags—at every villain they encountered before reaching the end, where a towering villain dummy waited as the final boss. One direct hit would trigger a dramatic explosion of colorful confetti.
A slight giggle escaped you. It was ridiculously over-the-top, but still very fitting for the Pro Hero.
You were crouched beside one of the students, helping them adjust the strap on their helmet before they ran through the obstacle course. The kid was rambling excitedly about how they were going to beat the “villains” faster than anyone else, and you listened with a smile, encouraging them before sending them back toward their classmates.
Bakugou watched the interaction from across the field. He wasn’t even sure when he’d started doing it.
Maybe it was the way you never rushed the kids, even when there were a dozen other things demanding your attention. Or how easily you matched their excitement without ever talking down to them. Maybe it was how good you looked in these jeans he’s never seen before, or the way your messy hair always fell perfectly around your face and ears. He found himself noticing you. And unfortunately for him, someone else noticed too.
“Woww Katsuki, shameless.” Bakugou’s shoulder stiffened, the simple comment was enough. He turned slowly, already knowing exactly who he’d find standing beside him. Mina Ashido wore the kind of grin that meant trouble.
Bakugou let out a rough sigh. Of course she had to be here. She didn’t even know Mina was in the Hero Classroom Program, or that she was even assigned to this school at all.
“What?” he asked, though the warning in his voice was immediate.
She glanced between him and you, far too amused. “Nothing,” she said, drawing out the word. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Mind your business, Mina.” He grumbled, hands still in pockets. He didn’t even have to look over at her anymore to see the huge grin plastered across her face. He scanned the field for her Field Day Station before landing on it across the field. An Acid Agility game with bright colors, obstacles, and music playing. It even had a dance floor at the center.
It didn’t take you too long to notice that Bakugou was chatting with the Number 10 Hero, Pinky. Your cheeks went flushed. He knows Pinky? Your mind flashes to the moments you were obsessed with her in college, even had one of her posters up in your dorm. You practically wanted to be her. Plus, her Pinky’s™ Pink Acid Power-Hold Hairspray is totally iconic. And you had the commercial memorized.
Mina was exactly as she appeared on the media and publicly; bright, energetic, and impossible to miss. Her signature pink hair bounced as she practically beamed over, a huge smile spreading across her face as she talked excitedly to Bakugou.
You watched the interaction with a small smile, surprised by the familiarity between them. It was strange seeing heroes talk so casually. Mina’s eyes bounced with eagerness as her gaze met yours. “And when were you going to introduce me to your cute teacher friend?” She teases. “Katsuki, you’re so rude.” Hearing Mina use his first name made you deduce that they had probably met a while ago, during hero training.
You smiled a little awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. Mina had that effect on people. Plus, you’d been obsessed with the Pinky’s™ haircare line for years. “O-oh thank you. I’m Ms. L/N” you stuttered, holding out your hands for her to shank “I’m a big fan.” Is all that you could muster. Your palms were definitely sweating.
Bakugou watched the way you immediately got flustered, your attention completely stolen by Mina’s presence. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
Seriously? This was the same person who’d looked him dead in the eye and talked back without hesitation. He couldn’t even get five words into a conversation with you before you were already firing back with some quick comeback. But Mina shows up with dumb pink hair and a smile, and suddenly you’re tripping over your words? Unbelievable.
He looked away, annoyed by the strange feeling settling in his chest. Pinky had you nervous. Not him.
Mina laughed nervously at your admiration, one hand met with yours in a handshake, “I’m not all that, promise me.” She turns toward the number 2 hero, who still had an annoyed look plastered on his face, two hands in his pockets.
“Who you SHOULD be gawking over is Mr. Dynamight here. It’s not easy to be Number 2.“ she slaps him on the shoulder playfully, he glares at her, his eyes like bright crimson lasers in response, “Plus Kacchan’s totally a softie underneath all of that yelling.”
Bakugou knew exactly what she was doing. Somehow, Mina had developed an infuriating sixth sense for sniffing out the moment any of her friends caught feelings for someone. She’d been weaponizing it against Katsuki specifically ever since he’d admitted to his first crush after high school, making it her personal mission to drag him into the dating world whether he liked it or not. He suppressed a groan.
Because the second he let himself think too hard about you, his mind went straight to everything that could go wrong. You were a teacher. Normal. Grounded. Completely outside the mess of hero society.
And he was Dynamight. A hero with enemies, cameras, reporters, and a life that never really belonged to him. Wanting you felt selfish. Acting on it felt reckless. He suppressed another groan.
“Don’t even start,” he muttered.
Mina’s grin only widened. “I didn’t say anything.”
She didn’t have to. Because he knew where this was going. Next time they see each other she’d give him the same speech she always did. That he worked too much. That he was too hard on himself. That maybe he deserved to have something outside of hero work.Mina didn’t understand. Or maybe she did, and that was the problem.
You stood confused between the two, did you miss something?
He opened his mouth to shut her up before she could get any smug ideas, but a student came rushing up at the worst possible moment, tugging at your sleeve and asking for help with something small and urgent. Whatever it was, it pulled you away again before Bakugou could even get a word in.
He watched you go, jaw tightening. Of course the universe would keep doing this to him, giving him just enough of you to make him want more, then yanking you out of reach before he could do anything about it.
Mina followed his stare, then looked back at him with a knowing expression that made him want to explode. “Seriously?” she said once you were out of earshot. “You’re gonna stand there and brood every time she walks away?”
“I’m not brooding.” He sniffs, eyes still planted on you.
Mina sighed, clearly done with his stubbornness. “You need to put yourself out there. Stop acting like wanting something normal is a crime.”
He scoffed, but there was less bite in it than usual. “Normal isn’t really my thing.”
“No kidding,” she shot back. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” Bakugou didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Mina knew him well enough to recognize when she’d hit too close to the truth. She just watched him stand there, stubbornly refusing to admit she had a point.
A few moments later, you came back over, your attention shifting between him and the obstacle course behind you. There was a slight crease between your brows, like you were debating whether or not to interrupt.
He noticed immediately, “What’s up?” he asked before you could even get the words out.
You blinked, surprised that he had noticed something wrong so quickly. “Sorry, but…” Your gaze flickered back toward the kids gathered around Dynamight's Blast Zone course. A few of them were struggling with one of the obstacles, looking unsure of what to do next. “I think they need your help. They’re having a bit of trouble. I tried to help but I don’t really know what I’m doing” You chuckled. Your voice was soft and semi-defeated.
For a second, Bakugou just looked at you. It was almost irritating how easily Mina’s words had gotten under his skin. Like she’d reached past every excuse he’d built and dragged something out into the open that he’d been trying not to acknowledge.
Which was that he wanted to get to know everything about you. What you ate for breakfast when you were too tired to cook. What songs you listened to on your way home. Whether you were the type of person who stayed up too late despite knowing better or if you actually went to bed at a reasonable hour. If you had a pet waiting for you when you got home. If you talked to yourself when you were alone. What color were your pajamas?
He wanted to know all of it. More than anything, he wanted to know what was going through your mind when you looked at him like that. That earnest, eager expression on your face should’ve been easy to dismiss, but somehow it had carved itself into his memory ever since the day you two met.
And even though helping the students was literally the reason he was there, a small part of him was grateful for the excuse to step away before Mina could say anything else.
“Yeah,” he put his thoughts beside himself, already walking over. “I’ll handle it.”
Mina followed your gaze toward the obstacle course, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’m gonna go check on my group before they decide the bean bags are actually weapons.”
You laughed softly. “Probably a good idea.” Probably for the best, too, since you’d likely end up just fangirling and unintentionally freaking out the pro hero.
Mina shot Bakugou one last look before walking away. A look he definitely noticed.
“Don’t,” he called after her.
She didn’t even turn to meet his gaze. “Didn’t say anything!”
You watched as Bakugou crouched down beside the students who had gathered around the obstacle course, all of them staring at the setup like it had personally offended them.
“Alright,” he said, eyes flicking over the course. “Who’s freezin’ up?”
A few hands went up immediately.
“I keep hesitating!” One of the students explains.
“I know where to throw, but I miss every time!” Another one joins.
More students angrily complain about their qualms with the field day event.
Bakugou stared at them for a second. Then he huffed, just like he’d already figured out the problem. He positions himself to stand back up, his muscular arms that you definitely don’t stare at every week bracing themselves on his thigh before he gets up in one swift motion.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “You’re all thinkin' too much.”
The kids blinked at him.
He picked up one of the bean bags and rolled it once in his palm. “Y'don’t need to make it perfect. You need to commit.”
He stood and demonstrated the throw, not with a huge burst of power, but with a clean, controlled motion that sent the bean bag straight through the opening. The cardboard villain quickly thuds to the grown with a loud electronic “OH NO!”
The kids gasp in excitement, ready to try their hand at his new advice.
“See that?” he said, pointing at the target. “Pick your line. Trust it. Then move.”
One of the students tried again, this time without stopping halfway through their throw. The bean bag landed exactly where it was supposed to. The kid’s face lit up. “I did it!”
Bakugou’s mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
More students began grabbing bean bags and racing through the obstacle course, their cheers and laughter filling the field as they knocked down the cardboard villains in their path. Dozens of electronic “OH NO!”s rang out from the defeated targets.
You watched from the side, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. The program had been everything you could have hoped for your students, but there were only two weeks left before it came to an end. The Heroes Public Safety Commission had chosen the timing intentionally, giving the children time to adjust to the excitement of seeing heroes every week before the sudden change of summer break.
Still, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer left a dull ache in your chest. This school year had already been one of your best, but this program had changed something. It had given you more opportunities to connect with your students, to see them open up and believe in themselves.
You watched the students play, a hint of melancholy softening your expression. From the field, Bakugou caught sight of you standing off to the side, watching your students with a look he couldn’t quite place.
Kids ran around him, laughing and shouting as they threw bean bags and took down cardboard villains, but his attention kept drifting back to you. He wondered what was going through your head.
“Hey there!”
You turned at the sudden voice, finding a bright smile and a familiar face standing in front of you.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Mirio Togata. Lemillion.” He offered his hand, the brigthness of his smile somehow rivaled the sunshine outside. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself.”
You blinked, a little surprised before shaking his hand. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you. I'm Y/N L/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” he teased, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He looked exactly how you expected him to up close, handsome and bright. “Though I have to admit, I was curious about the teacher brave enough to let Dynamight loose around a bunch of kids.”
You glanced toward the field, laughing softly. “He’s actually been really good with them.”
Mirio looked over as well, amused. “Yeah… that’s probably something not many people get to see.” His eyes returned to you, a playful glint in them. “Guess I’m lucky I got to meet both of you today.”
For a second, when his eyes met yours, you swore your heart stopped.
Was Lemillion… flirting with you?
Lemillion? The number one hero?
Your thoughts immediately went somewhere ridiculous. Was it the new pants you bought? Was that the secret? Had you accidentally unlocked some kind of confidence boost without realizing it?
Or was he really just being friendly and finally taking the chance to introduce himself? Whatever the reason was, you were definitely enjoying all of the Pro Hero attention you were getting today.
The field day ended earlier than Bakugou realized. The loud screams of kids had dissipated as they all made their way back to be picked up or after school programs.
After the principal’s announcement, teachers and heroes began working together to clean up the field, gathering equipment and returning the obstacle course pieces back to storage.
Bakugou should’ve been focused on the task in front of him. He wasn’t.
His eyes kept drifting back to you.
More specifically, to the way you and Lemillion were standing together near the edge of the field, packing up some last pieces of equipment and smiling at each other like you were sharing some private joke.
Bakugou frowned, taking a deep breath to keep his irritation from consuming him. The hell was so funny?
By the time everyone started heading back inside, he found himself walking near you before he’d even decided to. “What’s with that face?” he asked.
You looked over, confused. “What face?”
“The one you’ve had all afternoon.” His eyes flicked briefly toward where Lemillion had been standing. “You and Togata. What’s going on? Some type of inside joke?” His tone was almost interrogation like.
You paused, realizing he’d been paying attention more than you expected. You hadn’t even noticed him watching you and Togata that closely. Why did he care so much?
“Oh.” The memory came back to you, and you felt a little heat creep into your face. You had been smiling pretty much the entire conversation.
Bakugou immediately didn’t like that reaction. “Oh?”
You looked away, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He asked me on a date,” you said softly.
And Bakugou froze. Your eyes glimmered with something he couldn’t quite name; something warm, something excited. He’d never seen you look like that before. Not at him.
For a moment, Bakugou said nothing.
“…A date?” He sounded almost perplexed.
Of course someone like Lemillion would make a move without even thinking twice. He was friendly, confident, easy to talk to. The kind of person people naturally gravitated toward.
“Yes, Dynamight,” you teased. “Despite what you may think, men actually do ask me out sometimes.”
Bakugou scoffed internally. You bent down to grab a basket of bean bags, tilting your head slightly toward the pile of cardboard villains sitting at his feet. Without a word, he followed behind you, picking them up as instructed. That was when he was finally able to catch the brand of the new pants you were wearing. Not that it mattered now.
“Tch. But you guys work together,” he called out, trying to ignore the irritation creeping into his tone.
“Not really,” you replied. “Plus, you guys are leaving soon anyway.” You glanced back at him with a small smile, gesturing vaguely in his direction. “Might as well take what I can get, right?”
The hero frowned, a low grunt leaving his throat in defiance. He didn’t like the way that sounded. Not one bit.
Bakugou felt utterly defeated. He couldn’t tell what bothered him more: The fact that Lemillion had asked you out… or the fact that he hadn’t even thought to do it himself until now. He felt like a damn coward.
“So where’r you guys goin’?” he asked after placing the gathered equipment on the nearest bench inside of the storage shed. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Was he jealous?
“Oh my goodness, am I being interviewed?” you joked, throwing your hands up dramatically. “I don’t know yet,” you admitted with a laugh. “He said he’ll text me tonight and let me know where we’re going.”
Great. The date was tonight.
Makes sense. Bakugou knew Fridays were usually Mirio’s days off. With UA students and provisional license heroes taking over patrol rotations for work studies, it gave active pros a little more flexibility during the weekends.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes when he looked back at you. You looked way too excited. Like some teenager gushing over a celebrity. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like other heroes having your attention. He was the one who came here. Dynamight. The hero who was supposed to make this program fun for you and your students. The one who’d spent weeks watching you smile, watching you care about those kids.
So why the hell were you going out with fucking Lemillion? Sure, the guy was popular. Sure, everyone loved him. But Bakugou knew he had more than enough to back himself up. More power. More bite. More confidence.
He wasn’t letting Lemillion win that easily. Not again.
“Enjoy your date,” he grumbled, the words coming out sharper than he intended.
Before you could respond, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there in the storage shed alone. You stared after him for a moment, caught off guard by the strange edge in his voice.
You didn’t let it bother you too much, knowing you had a date to rush home and get ready for.
The night patrol should’ve ended hours ago. Bakugou knew that.
His assistant definitely knew that.
“Bakugou,” her voice crackled through his earpiece, already sounding exhausted. “Your patrol time was up two hours ago. You can go home now.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re literally still patrolling.”
“Yeah. You noticed.”
“That’s not—”
He ended the call before she could finish.
The city was quieter than usual, but Bakugou kept moving. Kept looking. Kept finding reasons to stay out longer. He told himself it was because he wanted to clear his head. That was a lie.
His attention drifted toward the brightly lit windows of a high-end sushi restaurant tucked between the buildings below. Mirio’s favorite place. The kind of place he’d take someone for a special occasion.
Bakugou had already passed by it twice tonight. This was the third time.
He hated himself a little more every time. His eyes scanned the tables through the clear windows, searching for any sign of you. A glimpse of your messy hair. That smile he’d been missing all day.
He didn’t even know what he was hoping for. Maybe that the date wasn’t going well, or maybe you’d look up and somehow notice him. Maybe he just wanted proof that he still had time.
Before he had the chance to turn around, a sleek black car pulled up along the curb, immediately catching Bakugou’s attention. His eyes narrowed.
The driver stepped out and walked around to the back, opening the door for the passenger. Then Mirio stepped out. Of course.
A moment later, Mirio walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand with that same damn smile he always wore. And then Bakugou saw you.
You stepped out wearing a black gown that was perfectly suited for the setting of the restaurant. The dress was elegant, the dark fabric sitting against your skin as it hugged your figure in a way he’d never seen before. The neckline framed you beautifully, the fabric fitting close around your waist and the draped effortlessly with every step you took.
Nothing like the teacher he’d gotten used to seeing every week in the classroom. You looked good. Really good.
Then Mirio took your hand. You smiled, stepping towards him. You looked so happy, excited.
And Bakugou felt it. The familiar sting of heat gathering in his palms. A sharp crackle of sweat and nitroglycerin building beneath his skin before he even realized he’d activated his quirk. His palm sparked.
“Tch—” Too late.
The explosion tore through the quiet night, sending him flying straight into the side of a nearby building.
“Damn it—” he muttered, pulling himself out of the damage.
Across the street, you and Mirio turned at the sudden noise. Bakugou froze, smoke curling around him as he stared from the shadows. For one second, he was sure you’d seen him.
But after a quick glance around, you simply looked confused before Mirio gently guided you toward the entrance. Neither of you noticed him. Bakugou watched as the doors closed behind you.
“Idiot,” was all he could mutter to himself before launching into the night sky and heading home.
Can I request something with katsuki? Where the reader and katsuki break up because reader feels ignored and neglected but katsuki's DYING to get them back. He's trying to impress them again, trying to apologise and bringing reader gifts. And then at the end they both agree to get back together and katsuki promises never to ever be rude or ignorant.
Ex!Katsuki wanting you back
may be a little ooc I'm sorry
Katsuki who really was just so caught up with his work. Being a Pro Hero took a lot out of him. He always came home exhausted after working extra hours, throwing his boots and jacket to the side, not caring where they landed. Sloppily cooking himself something or reheating the leftovers from the dinner you two planned to spend together. He was just so overworked. He’d quietly tuck himself in bed beside you, and get maybe 4 hours of sleep before he had to be up again to repeat it all. That had become your life. That was what caused you to slowly pull away. You stopped planning dates. Stopped texting first. And stopped making an effort. Did he notice? No. Or if he did he didn’t say anything.
Katsuki who returned home one night to an empty apartment. All your stuff was gone. Everything. All your clothes. The books you’d filled the shelves with, the plants you had scattered around. Everything was missing. He found the note the next morning. Stuck to the fridge with a magnet. He felt lost. Conflicted. He hadn’t even noticed the distance you’d finally decided to put between the two of you, right before you ended things. He felt stupid.
Katsuki who deliberately passes by your work every single day. He swings by to drop off flowers, drinks or meals. Sometimes even little “I saw this and it reminded me of you” gifts. No matter how absurd he thought it was. It started by him leaving them with the secretary, to have her deliver them. But when you made no effort to reach out he got a bit more desperate.
Katsuki who started delivering the gifts himself. The gifts themselves had changed. He knew he couldn’t buy you back. But it was the best he could come up with. Unfortunately for him, you’d told the secretary not to let him in, and well, she listened. So instead he cornered an intern, puffed his chest out a little and demanded to be taken to your office; and of course they were scared shitless, so he got exactly what he wanted.
Katsuki who gives the door a light knock before he swings it open. The large bouquet of flowers nearly slipped from his grasp. He fumbles a bit with the giftbox in his other hand. When he sets them on your desk and finally looks at your face it’s definitely a little upsetting for him. You seemed to have zero emotion on your face, like you couldn’t care any less. “Why are you here?” “To see you. I came to apologise.” “That’s new for you.” “Shut up.” he’s nervous, scratching at the hair on the back of his neck. “I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have made you feel so disposable.” You still look unimpressed. There's a long pause before you roll your eyes. Turning away from him to continue your work. “Look, I'm not good at this.” “Yeah ,I can tell.” he huffs. A shaky apology leaving his mouth before he turns to leave. Very unlike him.
Katsuki who doesn’t give up. He’s persistent. Returning to your place of work only two days later. Only this time he’s just got a large bag of takeout with him. He slips past the receptionist who was clearly paying more attention to her phone. He doesn’t knock on your door. He simply lets himself in. You’re not there. So he sets your desk like a dinner table. Getting everything out and ready for when you come back. It’s still warm when you enter the door. You look exhausted. So exhausted that when you look up to see him the only reaction you can give him is a short hum. He patiently sat there as you plop down onto your seat in front of him. “Why’d you come back?” “cause I fucked up.” “Uh huh.” you nod, while starting to eat with him. “I miss you. Please come back. I promise, I’ll stop staying so late. I’ll come home on time, I won’t blow off our date nights. I just, I can’t do this without you.” The look on your face gives him a little hope. “You’re my person. I don't want anyone else by my side. I never saw myself being in love. I always thought it was gross, a waste of my time. But you made all that change.” “You really made me feel like a waste of time.” you mumble out. But his heart hurts at it. He knows you’re right. “I know, I hate myself for it. But I fucking promise, I’ll never make you feel like that again, just come home…please.” It’s silent. “Suki, I don't want to keep living like this. I deserve better.” “Yeah, I know.” He leans in a little, and you get a real good look at him. From the time you’ve spent together you can tell he’s being sincere. “Fine. But the second it starts feeling like that again I’m leaving.” “Deal.”
synopsis: bakugou is assigned to visit an elementary school every friday as part of a new hero outreach program. he hates kids… or at least he thinks he does.
cw: fluff, slow burn romance, prohero!bakugou and teacher!reader, light teasing/banter, bakugou being bakugou, canon-typical hero themes, eventual romance
a/n: this is a series! and also my very first fic i hope you guys like it :) 🩷 title is uh…work in progress. pt2 is now posted!
“Dynamight, you’re going to be late!” The anxious woman hurried after him, clutching a clipboard against her chest along with a precarious stack of folders ready to spill from her arms.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Katsuki scoffs at his assistant, barely sparing her a glance as he slowly maneuvers his gauntlets on his fingers, twisting his hand in a careful motion as to not scratch the callous skin of his fingers as they click into place.
“I-I’m sorry, it’s just..” his assistant shuffled, struggling to keep pace. A few months in and she still hadn’t adjusted to her new job working for the Number 2 Pro Hero. A part of her had hoped the abrasive personality she saw on TV and in interviews was just exaggerated for cameras.
It wasn’t.
“You know those kids are really excited to meet you today.”
That earns another scoff from the hero, but this time slightly amused.
“Bet your ass they are.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, smug grin plastered across his face. “Kids love me.”
His assistant winced. His confidence was..impressive. I guess this is the type of ego it takes to become number two hero, she thought.
With a quiet sigh, she adjusted the folders in her arms and continued trailing after him, praying that Dynamight made it to school before the principal called her angrily.
“Right, before I forget,” she hurriedly flips through her collection of documents before landing on today’s schedule, “Today you’re visiting Sakura Elementary. Third grade.”
“Hm.”
“Room 35. Y/N L/N’s class.” She glanced up at him, “The principal has your visitor pass ready.”
Another noncommittal grunt.
She hesitates before adding, “And I know you don’t look at your emails so please don’t forget.”
Katsuki shot her a flat look. Probably the first look he’s actually given her today. “I look at my emails.”
She clears her throat, “Mr. Dynamight, you have two hundred and seventy eight unread messages.”
“They’re unread for a reason.”
“Just..please don’t be late.” She pinches the skin in between her eyebrows, her posture now slumped over the stack of god knows what she has in her hands. “Okay? Thanks.” His assistant surrenders before turning her back and making her exit. Bakugou furrows his brows at the slight annoyance in her tone as she shuffles out of his office.
Brat. Whatever. Guess it’s time to go see more brats.
“And what is something if it’s neither a liquid nor a solid?”
You looked out at your class of eight-year-olds, who were completely out of control today.
Usually during your lessons they sat in a neat half-circle, criss cross applesauce, their tiny faces turned toward you as they eagerly shouted answers to your questions in unison. Today, however, was the complete opposite thanks to the Hero Commission.
The idea was simple: The Hero Classroom Program had been introduced a few years ago as part of the Hero Public Safety Commission’s push to strengthen relationships between heroes and civilians. Instead of only appearing during emergencies, pro heroes were assigned to local schools to teach students about hero work, quirk safety, emergency preparedness, and what it truly meant to protect others.
It was supposed to help children understand that heroes were more than just flashy costumes and powerful quirks.
Though, based on your students’ behavior today, you were pretty sure they’d forgotten that last part.
“Miss L/N, I’m so boooooored.” You turned toward a student who had his head tipped dramatically toward the ceiling as if he were suffering through the most difficult moment of his life.
“Yeah, didn’t you say the hero was coming?” Another tiny voice added.
At the mention of his name, the rest of the class immediately perked up.
“Yeah!”
“When is he coming?”
“Is he here yet?”
You let out a deep sigh, trying very hard not to roll your eyes in front of twenty eight-year-olds.
In theory, it was a wonderful program.
In practice, it meant that every Friday afternoon, your classroom became the most anticipated room in the entire school. Because your assigned hero was Dynamight. The same pro hero whose name appeared across every news channel, whose explosive quirk had earned him a reputation as one of the strongest heroes of his generation.
And, unfortunately for you, the same pro hero who had a reputation for being… difficult.
You weren’t worried about his abilities. No one could deny that Dynamight was an incredible hero. But being a hero and being a teacher were two very different things.
Kids needed patience. They need someone who can explain things without making them feel stupid. They need someone who understands that a nervous question wasn’t a waste of time and that sometimes the same explanation had to be given five different ways before it clicked.
You just hoped Dynamight understood that too.
You waited patiently, letting the murmuring die down before speaking again. “I know everyone’s excited.”
“YEAAHHHH!” The entire class shouted in unison.
“But if Dynamight walks in and sees a room full of students who can’t follow directions…”
The classroom slowly fell silent.
You let the quiet linger, scanning each tiny, chubby face on the carpet before continuing. “…he’ll think you’re all still in kindergarten.”
The room immediately erupted in outrage. Students crossing their arms and making pouty faces at the thought of being mistaken for a mere five year old.
“We’re THIRD graders!” A students voice rang louder than the rest.
“Exactly. Besides, guys…” You crossed your arms firmly. “He’s only here for an hour.”
A wave of dramatic groans filled the classroom.
You smiled to yourself. You loved the playful banter you had with your students, the way they argued with you like they were your own age.
“Unless Dynamight can teach you guys about the three states of matter, we’re finishing this lesson before he gets here.”
More groans.
But then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
And the room goes completely silent.
The second the knock echoed through the room, twenty heads snapped toward the door.
Yours was one of them.
Twenty-one.
You blink, looking toward the entrance. Of course, right when you finally got them focused.
The door slid open. Pro Hero Dynamight filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and unmistakable in his hero costume. You wouldn’t say he looked better than he did on TV. Just… real.
Close enough to notice the faint color variation in the scar across his face. The faded scuffs and scratches worn into his gear, and the small marks scattered across his arms. Very muscular arms. You were definitely not staring.
Before you could even process what had happened, twenty tiny bodies launched themselves off, racing toward the broad man at the doorway with the type of excitement kids usually reserve for Disneyworld and birthday parties.
You barely had time to react before a small crowd surrounded him.
“He’s here!”
“Can you make an explosion right now?”
“He’s so much taller in person!”
“Dynamight, look at my quirk!”
You opened your mouth to scold the children, ready to apologize on their behalf for overwhelming a pro hero who had barely stepped foot into the classroom. But your words died as soon as your eyes fix over on the pro hero.
You expected irritation. Maybe yelling? Maybe a very public reminder that he was, in fact, a professional hero and not a classroom attraction.
Instead, he simply stood there, calm despite the swarm of tiny bodies surrounding him. He held his arms out slightly, more focused on protecting his hair and keeping his equipment out of reach than pushing any child away.
“Tch. You guys are loud.” He grunted. There was a slight smirk creeping at his lips.
But then he crouches down slightly to meet the kids at their level, lowering one of the heavy gauntlets carefully. He disconnects the gauntlet, a crisp click disengaging it from his forearm. He sets the machinery down in the circle of children, giving them a closer look. Their tiny heads peering down in awe.
“Don’t touch the trigger mechanism.” His voice is firm as he points at the tiny notch in his gauntlet, “It’s not a toy.”
The kids immediately fell silent around him, listening.
“This equipment’s built specifically for my quirk. It’s heavy, it’s dangerous, and there’s a reason only trained professionals use it.” His voice was rough, a low deep grumble escaping his throat with every few words he spoke. A few students nodded seriously, others stared in awe at the Pro Hero in front of them.
“But you can look.” The Pro Heroes voice rumbled as a smirk spread across his face.The classroom exploded again.
Your eyebrows lifted. Interesting. “Ok, ok everyone back to your spots,” you called out in the midst of the chaos, clapping your hands, “Dynamight just got here and I don’t think you guys have given him a polite welcome.”
The students slowly began returning to the carpet, though not without sneaking a few last glances at his gauntlets.
Bakugo watched them settle down, then looked back at you.
The room had been complete chaos thirty seconds ago. Now every student was sitting exactly where they were supposed to be.They just.. listened.
You caught his stare. “Something wrong?”
“No.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the students before returning to you. “You’re good at that.”
You blinked. “At what?”
“Getting them to shut up.”
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it “That’s one way to compliment my teaching.”
He shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him. “Wasn’t a compliment.”
“Of course not.”
The smallest hint of amusement crossed his face.
You walked toward the front of the room and extended your hand. “I’m Y/N L/N. Third grade teacher and apparently the person responsible for making sure these guys don’t destroy your equipment.”
You were used to seeing him on television, frozen in action shots or surrounded by explosions, but in person, he was much more imposing. He was taller than you expected, broad shoulders stretching against the fabric of his hero costume. You tried not to let his arms distract you this time, they were thick with muscle, the kind that came from years of training rather than simply having a powerful quirk.
Bakugo looked down at your hand for a second before taking it. “Katsuki Bakugo.” His voice was rough and gravelly.
“I know.” A pause. Then you smiled.
Most people reacted to him in one of two ways; either they were intimidated or completely starstruck.
You were neither. Bakugo found that interesting.
“Alright, everyone,” you announced, turning back to the class. “Let’s properly welcome Dynamight before he thinks our classroom is always this chaotic.”
A student immediately raised their hand. “Miss Y/N, it is always this chaotic.”
You sighed. “Thank you for proving my point.”
Bakugo let out a quiet scoff.
And for some reason, he got the feeling he was enjoying this more than he expected.
Pro Hero Dynamight planted himself at the front of the classroom like he owned it. Feet shoulder-width apart, distracting arms crossed over his broad chest, he didn’t say a word at first. He didn’t have to. The room had already gone quiet.
You leaned against your desk with a palm on your cheek, watching with mild curiosity.
“Alright,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the class. “Since you all practically begged to have me here, try using those ears instead of just shoutin’.”
Every student immediately sat up straighter. Well. That was one way to establish authority.
“The first thing you need to know about being a hero,” Bakugo continued, “is that having a strong quirk doesn’t automatically make you a good hero. Any idiot can blow something up.” He paused. “…Trust me, I’ve met plenty.”
A few kids giggled.
One hand shot into the air. Bakugo sighed before pointing at him. “What?”
The boy nearly bounced out of his seat. “Are you stronger than All Might?”
The room buzzed instantly. A dozen heads turned toward Bakugo, waiting. You had to bite the inside of your cheek.
Oh, this should be good.
Bakugo stared at the kid for a long, silent second. “…That’s your takeaway?”
“But are you?” Several students nodded eagerly.
“Who’s stronger?”
“Could you beat him?”
Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You brats really only care about who’s got the bigger punch.”
“…Yeah,” the class answered in perfect unison. You had to cover your mouth before your giggle escaped.
Bakugo let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his arms. “Listen up. Being a hero isn’t about being the strongest person in the room.”
The class settled almost instantly.
“It’s about knowing when to use your strength.” His voice lost its usual bite, turning unexpectedly serious, “You can have the strongest quirk on the planet, but if you panic, ignore instructions, or get innocent people hurt, you’re dead weight.”
The students listened without a single interruption.
“Real heroes stay calm. They think before they act. They protect people first. Power comes with responsibility. Forget that, and it doesn’t matter how strong you are.”
You glanced around, surprised. Your students could barely sit through afternoon reading time, yet somehow they’d hung on every word.
“So. First thing you do in an emergency?”
Hands shot into the air.
“Stay calm!”
“Listen to instructions!”
“Help people!”
A small girl near the back yelled, “Don’t ask if you’re stronger than All Might!”
The room erupted into laughter.
A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s mouth before it disappeared just as quickly. “…Correct.”
The kids beamed like they’d won a prize. You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. He was blunt. Loud. Rough around the edges. But he knew exactly how to work with children.
You lowered your gaze back to the paperwork on your desk, pretending you weren’t paying him just a little more attention than when he’d walked in.
The classroom slowly emptied, the last few students calling out their goodbyes as they disappeared into the hallway.
“Bye, Dynamight!”
“Come back next Friday!”
“Remember my question about your explosions!”
Bakugo stood near the door, looking mildly overwhelmed by the amount of attention being thrown his way. “Yeah, yeah. I heard you.” He said under his breath, staring down at each child’s bashful and excited expressions as they skipped out of the classroom.
Once the door finally closed behind the last student, the room fell into a peaceful silence. You turned around, starting to collect the scattered things from your students’ desks.
“Well.”
Bakugo glanced over. “Well?”
“You survived.”
“Obviously.” He said in a tone akin to one of your students.
You smiled at yourself, shuffling a few papers between your hands. “I wasn’t sure. They were pretty determined to take apart your hero costume.”
“They were curious.” Bakugo found himself watching you as you moved around the classroom, quietly gathering the aftermath of their excitement. You went from desk to desk, collecting forgotten papers, stray pieces of trash, and the random miscellaneous items the kids had somehow managed to leave behind.
You were just there, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy from managing a classroom full of kids, talking to him like he was just another person.
You glanced up and caught him staring. “Seriously, thank you. This means a lot to them. I’m sure they’ll all be very excited to see you again next week.”
A brief flash of sincerity crossed Bakugou's face before he turned away, giving nothing but his usual deep grunt in response.
“Don’t sound too touched.” You joke.
“Trust me I'm not.” The Pro Hero huffs. Kids weren’t exactly his thing. They were loud, messy, and had absolutely no concept of when to stop talking. Being a teacher would probably be his last choice of profession.
“Right.” You started back towards your desk with a neat stack of papers in hand, unable to wipe away the smile that had crept its way on your face. “You know, I was expecting you to scare them.”
"Did I?" There was a slight note of concern in his voice, a rare hesitation that you weren’t expecting.
"No."
The answer came too quickly. Bakugou noticed.
"And what does that mean?"
You look at him, earnest expression, "It means you're really good with them, better than I thought you’d be if I’m being honest."
Another scoff. “They weren’t that bad.”
You glanced up at Bakugo with the smugest smirk he’d probably ever seen. Which was saying something, considering he was pretty sure he’d perfected the look himself.
He immediately realized what he’d admitted. “What?”
You giggled, quickly trying to muffle it under your breath before you could further irritate the Pro Hero. It did not work.
“Nothing,” you said, still fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just glad you liked them.”
He took a pause before answering. You weren’t facing him anymore, but you could feel his crimson eyes staring down your back like a laser. “I tolerated them.” He grunts.
“You answered every question they asked.”
“They asked.”
“You explained your gauntlets.”
“They wanted to know.”
“You drew a diagram.”
A pause. Bakugo looked away from you even though you weren’t even facing him, his voice a little quieter than before. “They were curious.”
Your smile widened. This will be an interesting school year.
The room went quiet for a moment. He looked at you. And annoyingly, he didn’t have a comeback.
“You always this annoying?” he asked finally.
You turned around to face him, finger rested on your chin pretending to consider it. “Only with people who deserve it.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it. He quickly masked it with another scoff, like that somehow made the reaction less obvious.
“Guess I’m special, then.” The words came out almost casually, but the slight curve of his mouth gave away the teasing behind them. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little bit with the cute teacher, especially when she seemed far too amused by him already.
You blinked. Bakugou smiled, amused at the fact that he was finally able to throw you off.
Bakugou sighed. Somehow, one hour with a classroom full of kids with too much energy had managed to drain him more than a full day of patrol.
By the time Bakugou returned to the agency, he was already halfway to his office when his assistant hurried after him, clipboard tucked against her chest as she followed close behind.
The second he stepped inside, she was right there behind him. “So?”
Bakugo didn’t stop walking. “So what?”
“How was the Hero Classroom Program?”
“Loud.”
The second he answered, she scribbled something down on her clipboard, “Right.”
He dropped his gauntlets onto his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair. “The kids were annoying.” He sighed, dragging both hands down his tired face.
“Also expected.” She scribbled again.
Usually, after events like this, he complained. About the schedule. About the questions. About how much noise he had to deal with. But this time, he wasn’t.
“…Anything else?”
Bakugo looked over at her. “No.” A pause. Then, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it, “The teacher’s alright.”
His assistant blinked, pen freezing mid-note. “The teacher?” She glanced up at him.
He immediately frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.” The assistant’s head flipped back down to her notes, pushing her thick framed glasses up to the top of her nose bridge. The teacher, huh?
Bakugo clicked his tongue. “She’s good with the kids. That’s it.” She hadn’t even asked him about the teacher. I mean, she’s a teacher, of course she’s good with kids.
Instead of a response she gave a slight smile, shifting her clipboard in her arms as she continued scribbling down god knows what in her notes. “What’s her name again?”
Bakugo paused, just for a second.
“L/N.” He ignores how his assistant should already know your name.
The timid woman looked up, because he actually remembered. And she at least knew him well enough to know that meant something.
Bakugo noticed her expression and immediately looked away. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Tch.”
Later that night, Bakugou sat at his desk, going through the schedule for the following week’s assignment.
He should’ve been focused on the details; the class schedule, the lesson plans, everything he needed to know before stepping back into a room full of loud, unpredictable kids.
Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back. To the way the students had actually listened. To the way you’d watched him, clearly expecting something completely different. And, annoyingly, the way he was pretty sure he caught you oggling at his arms on more than one occasion.
Bakugou smirked slightly to himself, looking back down at the schedule in front of him.
Annoying. He had better things to think about.
And yet, when he reached her name on the schedule, his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. He stared at it for a moment before quickly moving on.
f/o who talks you through your orgasm, a gentle “good girl” and “yeah, that’s my girl” spilling past his lips as he works his fingers in you, eyes stuck on your face as you tip over the edge, something akin to wonder as he watches you with rapt attention
Summary: Katsuki is rough around the edges, and you believed you could endure the friction. But in the end… the cuts run too deep.
Warnings: angst, toxic relationship, two people trying to make it work but failling, controlling behaviour, cursing, reader is being called sensitive and fragile, katsuki doesn't know how to communicate, katsuki is very bad at feelings.
Wc: 2,6k
A/N: hope u like it! i’d love to hear your opinions! please comment, like and reblog! part 2 will be a time skip.
“I told you not to go, didn’t I?” Katsuki’s voice cut through the silence of the car, sharp and low, slicing into the quiet like a blade.
“You did,” you murmured, eyes fixed on your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your knuckles were white.
“You never listen, do you?” he muttered, jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard. “Always makin’ me do shit for you.”
That last comment made your chest tighten.
“I just told you I didn’t feel good at the party. I didn’t even ask you to come pick me up or anything,” you said, trying to steady your breathing.
Your voice felt heavy, weighted by all the unsaid things that had been piling up between you two.
He did this often— finding reasons to blame you for the tiniest things.
You didn’t know which part of him urged it. Was he stressed about his hero work? Upset over something you had missed? Or did he just… like to push your buttons? You didn’t know. And you probably never would, because every time you tried to get him to open up, he reminded you of how sensitive you were, how “fragile” your feelings could be and how you were the one pushing him.
“If I don’t deal with it now, I’ll just have to hear you complain about it later. Spare me,” he grumbled, finally taking the turn towards his house.
You stayed quiet.
His voice wasn’t harsh this time, but it carried a certain fatigue, like he was tired of everything— including you.
His words lingered in your mind, cutting you like ice. Your voice barely above a whisper, you asked, “Am… Am I a nuisance for you, Katsuki?”
“What? I never said that.” He stole a quick glance at you, but your head stayed turned towards the window, tracing the blurred city lights as they rushed past.
“You don’t need to say that. It’s just… obvious you think like that,” you murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear.
“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth—”
“If I can’t even tell my partner about my worries, or my day, or anything that happens to me… then what is even this? A relationship is based on communication, Katsuki.”
You paused.
A shudder ran through your chest.
“…Sure, I tell my friends stuff, we keep in touch, but I want you to know too. I want you to know what I’m feeling… what I do… but you… you clearly see it as tiring. Like me talking your ear off,” your voice cracked on the last words, sharp and high-pitched, the knot in your throat growing heavier.
“You don’t really need to tell me every small thing—”
“I don’t need to do this, do that, you’re never happy with what I do!” you snapped, and the words hung in the air, jagged and raw.
“It’s just—”
“Take me home,” you cut him off, your voice trembling.
He exhaled sharply, jaw clenching.
After a few moments, he took another turn, changing the course.
“I don’t even have any damn clothes at yours,” he muttered, voice low and annoyed.
His comment got under your skin.
“You don’t need to stay. You can go back to your place,” you said quietly.
“The fuck?” His confusion was quick, but there was a pause, like the words had hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
“I need to be alone,” you clarified, swallowing hard, the words scraping your throat on the way out.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve, nails digging in like you needed the pain to ground yourself.
“Because of some bullshit?” Katsuki scoffed, a sharp, humorless sound. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as he leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
“Come on. Since when did you become so sensitive? This is literally why we fight every fuckin’ minute.”
He frowned, jaw working like he was chewing on the rest of his words, eyes flicking towards you— searching — but you kept your gaze locked on the window, watching your reflection blur and disappear between passing streetlights.
“You think I like this?” he continued, voice rising despite himself. He dragged a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration before letting it fall back to the wheel with a dull thud.
“I’m tired too. I’m not used to this—” his breath stuttered, anger slipping into something rougher, rawer, “—but you want so much from me. All the time. It’s makin’ me fuckin’ crazy.”
The car filled with the sound of his breathing, uneven now, chest lifting hard under his shirt. He glanced at you again, a bit longer this time, irritation mixing with something he didn’t have the words for.
“Hey—” His voice dropped, losing some of its bite, rough around the edges. “Would you look at me at least?”
You still don't answer.
His jaw tightens, loosens, tightens again. His thumb taps against the steering wheel once. Twice. The engine hums steadily, streetlights flashing across his face in harsh, uneven intervals.
The tapping turns into a sharp flex of his fingers. He exhales through his nose, annoyed, restless. Silence— your silence— has always done this to him. He doesn’t know how to fight it. Doesn’t know where to aim.
“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, glancing at you again. “You gonna say somethin’ or just keep starin’ at the fuckin’ window?”
You don’t answer. Your lips stay pressed together, breath shallow, eyes unfocused on the blur of asphalt and neon signs outside.
That does it.
“Fuck—” He jerks the wheel slightly, irritation flashing hot and sudden.
Without warning, he signals and veers off the road, like his life depended on it. He quickly pulled the car into the closest parking lot. The tires crunch softly against gravel as he parks too hard, the car rocking once before going still.
The engine keeps running.
You blink, confused, your body lurching forward slightly with the stop. Your head turns towards him instinctively, brows knitting together. “What—?”
Katsuki kills the engine.
He turns to face you fully now, one arm slung over the steering wheel, the other clenched tight against his thigh. His expression is sharp, eyes burning, chest rising faster than before.
“No. We’re not doin’ this shit,” he says, voice low and strained. “We’re gonna talk about this.”
For a second, you just stare at him.
Then you laugh.
It slips out broken and breathless, halfway between a sob and something hysterical. Your shoulders shake as tears finally spill over, hot and unstoppable, blurring your vision as you lift a hand to your face.
“Oh,” you choke, laughing through tears, disbelief cutting deep. “Oh— now you want to talk?”
The laugh collapses in on itself, turning sharp, breath hitching painfully in your chest. You scrub at your face with the heel of your palm, like you can wipe the moment away, but the tears keep coming anyway— spilling, burning, relentless.
“What about all the times I wanted to talk?” you demand, your voice climbing despite your attempt to rein it in. Your hands come up, fingers splayed, shaking in front of you like you don’t know where to put them. “The times I begged you to listen to me?”
Katsuki stiffens, shoulders pulling tight, but you don’t stop. You can’t.
“What about the times I asked you to open up?” Your chest heaves as you lean forward, the seatbelt biting into you. “I was right there. I waited. I tried to be patient, tried to understand, tried not to push—”
Your hand curls into a fist and comes down against your thigh, once, hard. The sting barely registers.
“But now,” you laugh again, wet and broken, shaking your head in disbelief, “now you suddenly want to talk because you feel like it?”
You turn to him fully then, eyes red and shining, tears clinging to your lashes. “Now it’s important to you?” Your voice cracks on the word, splintering. “What about when it was important to me?”
Silence slams back into the car.
Katsuki’s jaw clenches so hard it looks like it might break. His hand tightens on the steering wheel again, leather creaking under his grip. He drags in a breath through his nose, sharp and shaky, like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding.
You shake your head slowly, shoulders curling inward now, the anger draining into something rawer. Smaller. “You don’t get to decide when this matters,” you whisper, the words landing heavier than the shouting did. “You don’t get to ignore me until I stop talking and then act like that’s the problem.”
Your hands fall back into your lap, trembling, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes as if holding onto yourself is the only thing keeping you upright.
Katsuki opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
For once, it’s him who doesn’t know what to say— and the realization hits him hard, settling heavy in his chest as he stares at you, finally seeing just how long you’ve been screaming into the void.
And this time… he can’t pretend he didn’t hear it.
Katsuki doesn’t snap back this time.
He just… stops.
The anger drains out of his face slowly, like someone pulled the plug on it.
His jaw works once, then stills. He stares at the dashboard instead of you, eyes fixed somewhere just past the speedometer, like if he looks at you any longer something in him might give way.
Your words replay in his head, ugly and unavoidable.
What about when it was important to me?
His grip on the steering wheel loosens, fingers trembling before he clenches them again— harder this time, nails digging into the leather like he’s trying to punish himself. His chest feels tight. Too tight. He drags in a breath, but it sticks halfway, sharp and unsteady.
Fuck.
He swallows, throat burning. There’s a pressure behind his eyes he doesn’t recognize at first— until he does, and the realization makes his teeth grit together in panic. He blinks once. Twice. Like that’ll make it go away.
It doesn’t.
He turns his head slightly, just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. You’re curled in on yourself now, shoulders hunched, hands clenched in your lap like you’re holding something together that’s already splintering. And it hits him— harder than anything you said.
You look tired.
Not angry. Not dramatic. Just… worn down.
And that’s on him.
“Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, the word coming out rough, wrecked. His hand leaves the steering wheel, dropping uselessly to his thigh. He rubs at it once, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, then stills.
You were right.
About all of it.
He had been a jerk. Short-tempered. Self-centered. Acting like your patience was infinite, like you’d always be there no matter how often he brushed you off, snapped at you, made you feel like you were asking for too much just by wanting to be heard.
Like you were the problem.
His vision blurs for half a second and he sucks in a sharp breath, jaw tightening as he leans back in his seat, staring up at the dark ceiling of the car. He presses the heel of his hand into his eyes, hard— too hard— like he can physically force the feeling back down.
Saying sorry feels useless now.
So he doesn’t.
He reaches for the key instead.
The engine turns over, loud in the cramped space, the sound filling the gap where words should be. He grips the steering wheel again, tighter than before, knuckles pale.
“I’ll take you home,” he says at last.
His voice is flat. Controlled. Too controlled. Like if he lets even one more thing slip, the whole damn thing might come apart.
He pulls out of the parking lot without waiting for a response, eyes fixed on the road, jaw set hard. The streetlights streak across his face again, but now they catch the tight line of his mouth, the tension in his brow.
It’s not dismissal.
It’s retreat.
And you feel it— that this is all he can give you right now. Not an apology. Not reassurance. Just the act of getting you where you asked to be, because staying here any longer might force him to admit something he’s not ready to face.
The car moves forward.
But something between you has already shifted, cracked open— and both of you know what will happen once your ways part.
The ride home is silent.
Not the sharp, tensed kind that follows a fight— but something emptier. Like the air itself has been scooped out of the car, leaving behind only the low hum of the engine and the steady slide of the city passing by.
Katsuki drives with both hands locked on the steering wheel, posture rigid, eyes fixed forward. He doesn’t look at you. Not once. Streetlights streak across his face in pale flashes, catching the tight line of his mouth, the tension pulled hard across his shoulders.
You sit still, hands resting limply in your lap.
Your chest aches, but it’s a distant pain now— muted, like your body already knows there’s no point in reacting anymore. Somewhere between a red light and the familiar turn onto your street, the truth settles in with a quiet finality.
This is the end.
Not because of tonight alone. Tonight was just the moment you stopped holding it together by yourself. You think of all the times you fought for this— how often you explained, waited, softened yourself, carried the weight of both of you just to keep things from falling apart.
You were tired. Just like him.
You wanted too much, but he could only offer so little.
Your building comes into view, grey and familiar, and your stomach drops anyway. Katsuki slows the car and pulls up to the curb. The engine idles.
He says nothing.
So do you.
You reach for the door handle. The click sounds louder than it should. Cold air brushes your face as you step out, grounding and cruel all at once. You shut the door quietly— too quietly. Like you don’t want to disturb something that’s already dead.
You take a step towards the entrance.
Then another.
You don’t hear his door open. No footsteps behind you. No voice calling your name.
You don’t look back.
Inside the building, the door closes behind you with a soft, final thud. The sound echoes down the empty hallway and your legs give out, your back pressing against the door as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
Your breath breaks.
The sob comes out of you all at once— sharp and ugly, tearing through your chest as your hand flies to your mouth, trying and failing to keep it quiet. Your shoulders shake, knees weak, tears spilling faster now that there’s no one to hold them back for.
There’s no one left to fight for this.
The realization hurts more than anything else.
You fought enough. You waited. You bent. You carried patience like a burden and called it love. And when you finally put it down— when you went quiet, when you stopped trying to fix what wasn’t yours to fix—
Everything ended.
Because you were the one holding it together.
And without you carrying the weight, there was nothing left to save.
You slide down the door slowly, curling in on yourself as the crying takes over, the hallway empty, the night outside still moving on without you.
And somewhere, a few streets away, Katsuki is still sitting in his car—
but you don’t know that.
And for the first time, you don’t wait for him to come after you.
ily guy who’s self conscious about how big his dick is, always gets a little nervous and quietly asks “do you think you’ll manage?” when you first pull it out of his pants and gasp……
𑣲 sex in front of a mirror with katsuki. it’s his absolute favorite. ⋆｡° — SMUT! ♡♡
katsuki loves to watch you in the mirror while he fucks you—especially when you watch too.
watching your wrecked face in the mirror is all he cares about, as he slams his dick into you over the bathroom counter. squeezing your hips and keeping his hand tight around your neck, he murmurs—"you look so fuckin' good looking at me while i stretch you out."
"you like that?" you love it. seeing his low-lidded, possessive eyes while he completely owns you drives you wild. it drives you right over the edge too..
when keeping your eyes open gets harder, his hand tightens on your neck as he whispers in your ear. "look at the mirror, baby, keep them open."
he keeps his relentless pace, his chest pressing hot against your back as his fingers dig deeper into your hip, holding you steady. the heat of his cock sliding deep inside you is almost too much, making your knees buckle as the pleasure threatens to completely pull you under.
"i'm not letting you slip away yet." he drives his cock even deeper, his hips hitting yours with a heavy thud that makes you cry out. his grip keeps you focused, forcing your watering eyes to stay locked on his reflection in the glass.
"look at how much you're shaking for me." he groaned out, his chest vibrating against your back as he drags his cock out slow, only to slam back in even harder. "shit.."
you whimper, your hands clawing at the cold marble counter for any kind of grip as your vision starts to blur.
losing control himself, he pants—"fuck, told you to keep your eyes open.."—his thrusts turn sloppy and needy.
when you finally break, your body seizing and spilling a hot mess all over his cock, you look so beautiful in the reflection.
the tight, pulsing squeeze of your soaked cunt around his dick is almost too intense for him to bear. he needs you to watch this—needs you to see your own wrecked, flushed face as you fall apart all over him.
you looked absolutely perfect. if he could fuck you in front of a mirror all day every day, he would.
making out in the summer sun while you're both sweaty and smelling like coconut and surf and sunscreen, and maybe that one drink you had hits a little too hard, and when he kisses you, you taste like salt and lime and the good, expensive tequila. and there's sand on his palm when he slides it along the curve of your ass, and you feel him get hard through his swim trunks when you lace your fingers into his hair and kiss him even deeper. your skin is slick and warm, his mouth is dangerous and his tongue is soft, and the sun seeps into every fiber of your being. the world falls away, and he licks the salt from your skin, and you know in your heart that it's just a summer thing but you can't bring yourself to think beyond tonight..
synopsis: you and your boyfriend pro hero dynamight are fucking. it’s hard, carnal and hungry. he’s screwing you so deep before an interruption occurs… your ex boyfriend starts blowing up your phone, killing the mood and ultimately your man’s patience.
content: pro hero! katsuki bakugou , missionary sex , p in v , backshots , quite a bit of spanking , katsuki refers to your vagina in third person “she”, unprotected sex , katsuki is a huge ass guy , jealousy , semi-public sex, porn with little plot , angry bakugou, gets off on making your ex jealous
author’s note: not proofread so apologising in advance for spelling mistakes!
the bed was violently creaking with every movement as bakugou pounded his cock into you like he hated you. your legs tighten around his waist as your moans grew more elicit with every thrust.
he had a bad day out on patrol and right now the only things he wanted right now was his girl and his dick wet. bakugou was so far gone already, high on pleasure and spurred on by your pussy lips crudely squelching around his cock and making him groan.
“fuck you’re tight. god-“ he snarls, plunging himself deeper and hitting that g-spot that makes you gasp and press into him like a desperate slut. your cunt was soaked for him that every thrust made a crude plap and squelch. “hear that baby? she’s saying hello t’me. ain’t that polite?” he groans into your ear and you cringe, face contorting from shyness, trying to hide your face from him. he smirks from satisfaction, speeding up to watch you cry out for him as he fucks you deeper.
“k-katsuki… s’too— mmh! s’too..” you whine, struggling to get the words out.
“too what? cat gotcha tongue? can’t help you if you won’t talk baby.”
bakugou had his hands by either side of your head, making eye contact with you and relishing in all the sounds you were making. when you’d look away from embarrassment he’d move one his hands, holding yours with only one before lowering his head and smacking your face gently.
“look at me baby. won’t ask again.” he commands, carmine red eyes darkening at your trembling ones. you nod, trying your absolute best to not shut your eyes from ecstasy.
you’re being dicked down so hard your toes are curling.
you let out a cry of pleasure, nails clawing down his chiselled back. “what’s that baby? you gonna come?” he groans into your ear and you nod desperately.
he speeds up and your vision starts to go white, its filthy and nasty and just as your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue he pulls out with a lewd ‘plap’. you whine as he flips you over. “why?”
he rolls his eyes and drags you up with one arm. “shut it woman. i’ll do what i want. now back that ass up for me, we ain’t done here.” he proclaims before grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath you. he forces your face down and lands a harsh smack to your ass that makes you yelp.
he’s wasting no time, grabbing your cheeks and spreading them whilst he looks down to inspect your pussy. he lets out a low whistle admiring how much slick there was. “fuckin’ hell sweetcheeks.”
then he’s got his meaty hands around your hips to keep you from running away from his cock, forcing your back to arch higher whilst your walls accommodate his size so nicely. it’s obscene and filthy the way his balls slapped against your ass. just as you began to drool into the pillow, your phone blared on the nightstand.
the pro hero grunts, ignoring the incessant string of sound at first— slamming himself into you even harder to drown it out with your whines.
but it just got louder. the more your phone buzzed the harder he went.
“m-maybe it’s an emergency? I should answer it.” you suggest weakly despite his glare.
now he was getting pissed. he had a bad fucking day and the last thing he needed was an interruption whilst all he was trying to do was fuck his girl. bakugou groans, reaching to grab the phone and hand it to you.
he notices you make a face as you look at your phone screen. “who is it?”
you avoid his gaze. “s’nothing.”
he snatched your phone and sees it for himself. he sees it’s no caller id. it’s gotta be your ex— this is the third time this week he’s called you now with no caller id. you had told him about how the obsessed fucker wouldn’t stop harassing you and now he was gonna make sure he’d put a stop to it. “thats it, im answering the phone. let him hear how a real man dicks you down.”
before you can argue with him he clicks answer and tosses your phone to the side.
“—hello? y/n?” your ex calls out. “i get you don’t wanna talk, but i miss you and i need you back.”
wasting no time, bakugou starts slamming into again. fucking you doggystyle as fast as possible, drawing out desperate and loud moans outta you.
“y/n?“ your ex raises his voice. “are you fucking serious?”
“sorry man, she’s busy. busy with real dick. ain’t that right honey?” bakugou spits into the phone, moving the device to your head whilst bullying his cock deeper and faster into your walls which were handling his size so nicely. “c’mon mama. you love this cock right? tell em’.”
he lands a harsh spank to your ass. you yelp “agh! yes— ffffuuuckkk! love it! i love you katsuki!”
“really baby? you love me? more than you ever loved this dickless wonder?”
“yes! so much!” you shout in pleasure. the scene was so lewd it was meant for a porno. not this.
he lands another smack to your ass. “that’s my girl.”
and maybe bakugou was being an asshole. and yes he’d hate this if it was the other way around. but sometimes you had to take extreme lengths for others to get the hint. the jackass should’ve left you alone the moment you two broke up. you were his and he’d make that clear to your ex just to get him to back off.
“still there my man? or do i have to go on FaceTime?” bakugou gloats, smirking into the mic.
“fuck you!” your ex finally shouts before ending the call. good on him for not sticking around before she came.
you’re too cockdrunk to notice, creaming around his cock so much that you were starting to feel that fuzzy feeling underneath your tummy.
“‘suki! im— im—“
“close? come for me baby. come for your hero.”
you come with a shout, pussy twitching as it creams around his length. bakugou rides out your orgasm aggressively, bucking his hips until he comes inside of you, thick and torrid. your legs give out. the both of you are covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and panting heavily.
you both collapse into eachother’s arms. you look at your boyfriend, who stares at the ceiling. his blonde locks are damp with sweat. you watch his rising chest. then, after a few moments, you speak up.
“why did you stay on the phone with him?” you asked softly.
“tch.” bakugou scoffs, meeting your gaze. his eyes are more of a gentle hue. “‘cause you’re mine. what, i can’t make it known?”
“katsuki.” you giggle. “did you get jealous?”
his face puffs out in embarrassment. “fuck off. who said anything about jealous?”
“nobody. my lips are sealed.” you smile.
“tch.” he leans over to kiss your forehead. “i love ya. brat.”
synopsis: you and your boyfriend pro hero dynamight are fucking. it’s hard, carnal and hungry. he’s screwing you so deep before an interruption occurs… your ex boyfriend starts blowing up your phone, killing the mood and ultimately your man’s patience.
content: pro hero! katsuki bakugou , missionary sex , p in v , backshots , quite a bit of spanking , katsuki refers to your vagina in third person “she”, unprotected sex , katsuki is a huge ass guy , jealousy , semi-public sex, porn with little plot , angry bakugou, gets off on making your ex jealous
author’s note: not proofread so apologising in advance for spelling mistakes!
the bed was violently creaking with every movement as bakugou pounded his cock into you like he hated you. your legs tighten around his waist as your moans grew more elicit with every thrust.
he had a bad day out on patrol and right now the only things he wanted right now was his girl and his dick wet. bakugou was so far gone already, high on pleasure and spurred on by your pussy lips crudely squelching around his cock and making him groan.
“fuck you’re tight. god-“ he snarls, plunging himself deeper and hitting that g-spot that makes you gasp and press into him like a desperate slut. your cunt was soaked for him that every thrust made a crude plap and squelch. “hear that baby? she’s saying hello t’me. ain’t that polite?” he groans into your ear and you cringe, face contorting from shyness, trying to hide your face from him. he smirks from satisfaction, speeding up to watch you cry out for him as he fucks you deeper.
“k-katsuki… s’too— mmh! s’too..” you whine, struggling to get the words out.
“too what? cat gotcha tongue? can’t help you if you won’t talk baby.”
bakugou had his hands by either side of your head, making eye contact with you and relishing in all the sounds you were making. when you’d look away from embarrassment he’d move one his hands, holding yours with only one before lowering his head and smacking your face gently.
“look at me baby. won’t ask again.” he commands, carmine red eyes darkening at your trembling ones. you nod, trying your absolute best to not shut your eyes from ecstasy.
you’re being dicked down so hard your toes are curling.
you let out a cry of pleasure, nails clawing down his chiselled back. “what’s that baby? you gonna come?” he groans into your ear and you nod desperately.
he speeds up and your vision starts to go white, its filthy and nasty and just as your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue he pulls out with a lewd ‘plap’. you whine as he flips you over. “why?”
he rolls his eyes and drags you up with one arm. “shut it woman. i’ll do what i want. now back that ass up for me, we ain’t done here.” he proclaims before grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath you. he forces your face down and lands a harsh smack to your ass that makes you yelp.
he’s wasting no time, grabbing your cheeks and spreading them whilst he looks down to inspect your pussy. he lets out a low whistle admiring how much slick there was. “fuckin’ hell sweetcheeks.”
then he’s got his meaty hands around your hips to keep you from running away from his cock, forcing your back to arch higher whilst your walls accommodate his size so nicely. it’s obscene and filthy the way his balls slapped against your ass. just as you began to drool into the pillow, your phone blared on the nightstand.
the pro hero grunts, ignoring the incessant string of sound at first— slamming himself into you even harder to drown it out with your whines.
but it just got louder. the more your phone buzzed the harder he went.
“m-maybe it’s an emergency? I should answer it.” you suggest weakly despite his glare.
now he was getting pissed. he had a bad fucking day and the last thing he needed was an interruption whilst all he was trying to do was fuck his girl. bakugou groans, reaching to grab the phone and hand it to you.
he notices you make a face as you look at your phone screen. “who is it?”
you avoid his gaze. “s’nothing.”
he snatched your phone and sees it for himself. he sees it’s no caller id. it’s gotta be your ex— this is the third time this week he’s called you now with no caller id. you had told him about how the obsessed fucker wouldn’t stop harassing you and now he was gonna make sure he’d put a stop to it. “thats it, im answering the phone. let him hear how a real man dicks you down.”
before you can argue with him he clicks answer and tosses your phone to the side.
“—hello? y/n?” your ex calls out. “i get you don’t wanna talk, but i miss you and i need you back.”
wasting no time, bakugou starts slamming into again. fucking you doggystyle as fast as possible, drawing out desperate and loud moans outta you.
“y/n?“ your ex raises his voice. “are you fucking serious?”
“sorry man, she’s busy. busy with real dick. ain’t that right honey?” bakugou spits into the phone, moving the device to your head whilst bullying his cock deeper and faster into your walls which were handling his size so nicely. “c’mon mama. you love this cock right? tell em’.”
he lands a harsh spank to your ass. you yelp “agh! yes— ffffuuuckkk! love it! i love you katsuki!”
“really baby? you love me? more than you ever loved this dickless wonder?”
“yes! so much!” you shout in pleasure. the scene was so lewd it was meant for a porno. not this.
he lands another smack to your ass. “that’s my girl.”
and maybe bakugou was being an asshole. and yes he’d hate this if it was the other way around. but sometimes you had to take extreme lengths for others to get the hint. the jackass should’ve left you alone the moment you two broke up. you were his and he’d make that clear to your ex just to get him to back off.
“still there my man? or do i have to go on FaceTime?” bakugou gloats, smirking into the mic.
“fuck you!” your ex finally shouts before ending the call. good on him for not sticking around before she came.
you’re too cockdrunk to notice, creaming around his cock so much that you were starting to feel that fuzzy feeling underneath your tummy.
“‘suki! im— im—“
“close? come for me baby. come for your hero.”
you come with a shout, pussy twitching as it creams around his length. bakugou rides out your orgasm aggressively, bucking his hips until he comes inside of you, thick and torrid. your legs give out. the both of you are covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and panting heavily.
you both collapse into eachother’s arms. you look at your boyfriend, who stares at the ceiling. his blonde locks are damp with sweat. you watch his rising chest. then, after a few moments, you speak up.
“why did you stay on the phone with him?” you asked softly.
“tch.” bakugou scoffs, meeting your gaze. his eyes are more of a gentle hue. “‘cause you’re mine. what, i can’t make it known?”
“katsuki.” you giggle. “did you get jealous?”
his face puffs out in embarrassment. “fuck off. who said anything about jealous?”
“nobody. my lips are sealed.” you smile.
“tch.” he leans over to kiss your forehead. “i love ya. brat.”
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