pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader
warnings: fluff n swearing
the tufts of hair are soft, so utterly soft under your fingertips; they brush and tickle the surfaces of your palms.
for looking so spiky all twenty-four hours of the day (a suitable look for his explosive personality, honestly), it’s so damn soft.
and so you continue petting the fluffiness that is bakugou katsuki’s hair. there’s a peaceful aura in the living room, the only sound being the ambience of the tv and katsuki’s occasional grumbles.
you sigh quietly, and then-
he’s not cursing at you; rather, the report he’s currently working on in the laptop that’s seated in his lap, legs crossed on the floor of the living room as he leans back against the sofa, which you sit upon.
as if on cue, you dig your fingertips gently yet firmly over his scalp, and he goes slack.
katsuki’s never been one for reports. he always leaves that “boring shit” for his agency and assistants to handle the aftermath of a mission or two.
but after nearly two weeks worth of hunting a notorious villain down, it’d be better to put down the experience in his own words for a report to hand in to the authorities.
besides, the agency had given him a couple days off (and you had convinced him to take them) so here he is, with you.
not that he really minded in all actuality, no matter how repulsed or nonchalant he seemed of lovey-dovey shit and affection—he likes spending time with you. (it’d be better if he isn’t doing crappy reports but yeah.)
you peer over his hair to see what he’s typing on, to see how much he’s done, and you hum softly again.
you know better than to ask if he needs help. you know he’s smart enough to figure out how to word his explanation. (besides, your hands and presence is enough.)
there’s the sound of his grumbling again that joins whatever’s playing on the tv screen before it falls quiet, replaced by the tapping of his fingers on the keys.
from your elevated spot behind him, you take the time to study his hands working the keyboard. you know what they look like, what they feel like, but you trace the ridges of his knuckles and calloused skin with your gaze into memory.
your own hands go still in his hair as you get lost in watching his hands move, and it’s only when he abruptly nudges his head back do you stir.
you have to hold in your knowing laugh—he’s demanding you to keep running your fingers through his hair in his own silent way. (it’s cute, so you oblige.)
perhaps a couple minutes pass before you eye the numbers at the bottom corner of the laptop screen that read the time. it’s still somewhat early into the night.
“katsu,” you announce in a sing-song voice, “’m gonna get started on dinner in a little.”
he merely grunts in reply, yet he starts to stiffen up once your hands leave their place on his head and you lean back, moving to stand up from the couch and head over to the kitchen.
you give his head one last pat and start to walk away until a warm palm grabs your leg and you’re being yanked back.
a yelp escapes you as you lose balance and- “katsuki!”
he had removed the laptop from his lap for you to take that spot, and you land right where he wants you to. his arms comfortably nestle around your middle and he tugs you close.
your face grows warm at the gesture, but you relax when you feel his breath tickle your ear, sinking into his hold. “katsu, i need to make dinner..” despite your words, you don’t struggle.
he grunts again. “shut up.”
you snicker quietly under your breath and he nips at your ear, effectively shutting you up.
so you sit there with him for god knows how long, relishing in his tender touch, in his mellow presence. he’s warm all over, like there’s sunlight bathing over you because he’s here.
as much as you want to stay in his arms for the rest of the night, you can feel hunger gnawing at your stomach. (food is always a great motivator.. or mood ruiner.)
wiggling your toes, you lean back against katsuki a bit and murmur, “katsu. i really gotta make dinner, or else we’ll starve.”
he scoffs (you have to shudder because it’s literally right there in your ear) and doesn’t relent the hold he has on you. “sounds like a you problem.”
you squirm. “i said we’ll starve! i know you’re getting hungry too,” you insist with a small pout. “the sooner i get started the sooner we can eat.”
he’s quiet for a moment. “..fine. ‘m cooking.”
before you can protest, he’s hauling you up and walking you both to the kitchen… with you still in his arms. it’s a bit awkward, walking forward with him literally attached to your back but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away.
“katsu,” you can’t help but giggle, “you gotta let me go so we can actually cook. and wha’ about your report?”
“fuck the report,” he grunts, “..‘m almost finished it with anyway. need a break.” and then he mumbles something incoherently into your shoulder.
“whadya say, katsu?” you hum.
he lifts his face out of your shoulder somewhat. “need you, dumbass..” he grumbles lowly.
fuck, there goes the butterflies stirring up in you and you feel your heart soar. the softer moments of katsuki always make your knees weak for the man.
“ya have me, katsu,” you declare delicately.
he sighs. in a blink, he turns you around so he’s facing you, arms still holding you close. his head tilts ever so slightly as the crimson of his eyes shine blissfully.
you love it when he looks at you—the way he looks at you. with love. a love only bakugou katsuki holds; one that blazes like the explosions from his palms, that soothes like the husky timbre of his voice.
there’s nothing but the two of you in the kitchen of the apartment, basking in the other’s aura.
he leans forward, one of his hands tracing your side and coming up before he grasps your chin between his thumb and finger. his eyes flicker down and he meets your lips with his.
your eyes flutter instinctively, letting katsuki lead. the kiss is soft, chaste, and you can feel the emotion poured into it. all the warmth that is bakugou katsuki.
and bakugou katsuki doesn’t do things half-assed, kisses included.
he pulls away after a while, a pretty pink dusting over his cheeks as his eyes continue to shine prettily. it suits him.
so you stare, you stare at him like he’s your entire world.
katsuki scoffs and steps back, bringing the very same hand that had caressed your chin to flick at your forehead. “c’mon, dumbass,” he says gruffly after clearing his throat, “dinner ain’t gonna make itself.”
you rub at the spot where he had hit you, but you find yourself giggling because, gosh, this man. (you decide he’s yours forever, but maybe you decided that a long time ago.)
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