#bakugou x soulmate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azzo0 · 3 months

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See You Later

Inspired by this song: see you later (ten years)

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

tw's: angst with happy ending, manga spoilers, bad writing?? (idk bro lmk more in tags)

Summary: In middle school, you see a red string on your finger. It leads you to Bakugo Katsuki, a boy with fire and anger, less than pleased to see you as his soulmate. After several attempts of befriending and getting to know him, he shuns all your efforts to break through. Letting him go, you drift apart.

But the red string of fate hasn't broken yet. Ten years later, you cross paths again.

It had been a week since you moved into the fancy new neighbourhood. Your father had gotten a better job offer here in Musutafu. Of course, that meant a new middle school and new friends. You weren't sure what to expect on your first day of school, but it definitely wasn't seeing a red string on your little finger.

You were just looking for your class in the early hours of the morning, feeling extremely lost. You frowned, the only one in the hallway, looking sideways for your class. Why was the school so big? Giving up, for the time being, you went down to the little pond with fish you spotted on your way here. You'd just ask someone to help you find your class once there were more students around.

You kneeled, watching fish of different colours idly swim in the little pond. Were it not for the slight tug you felt on your pinky, you'd probably have stayed there wasting your time. You looked down at your hand, eyes widening, when you saw a crimson string attached to your little finger. Your lips parted in surprise.

You knew your soulmate was somewhere around.

Along with quirks, some people had the gift of recognising their soulmate. You'd heard countless stories of people with tattoos of their soulmate's first words on their bodies or a marking of where their soulmate first touched them. Sure, you had a quirk, but no soulmate marking.

You slowly stood up, gulping. Who was the person on the other end of the string? Letting out a shaky breath, you followed the string to the school garden. Was your soulmate in the garden? You heard footsteps coming in your direction and then suddenly stopping. You nervously bit your lip, daring to look up.

There he was. A boy with spiky ash-blond hair that pointed in every direction, his eyes just as red as the string connecting you two together, his eyebrows furrowed as he glared at you. You noticed he had two coat and shirt buttons unbuttoned and his tie missing. He was the most handsome guy you met, were it not for the fact that he looked like he was going to murder you and hide your body.

"Are ya going to gape at me all day or say something?" He snapped, making you jump back, his voice deep and raspy.

"Umm- looks like we're soulmates?!" You cringed when your voice came out squeaky.

"No shit."

The red string slowly disappeared after having led you two to each other. You twiddled your thumb nervously, wondering what to say to him. You were surprised when he walked past you like he hadn't just found out you were his soulmate but a random stranger he bumped into. You jogged after him, tightening your grip around your school bag.

"Hey, wait up! What's your name?"

"Fuck off, shitty extra."

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by his snarky reply. Why would he say that when you asked something so simple? Was he unhappy to find out you were his soulmate? Did he not like the idea of you being his soulmate? You opened your mouth to say something but then decided against it. You sadly turned around, walking in the opposite direction.

Unbeknown to you, none of these were the reasons why he brushed you off. Truth was, he couldn't believe he had a soulmate. Whenever the topic of soulmates came up, everyone had mutually agreed that Bakugo Katsuki could never have a soulmate. He was too proud and angry to have one.

Maybe they were right.

He was surprised that someone as pretty as you was his soulmate. You wanted to know his name, and he couldn't even give you a proper reply. He wasn't sure how to react to you. Maybe everyone was right. He was too proud and angry to have a soulmate.

He glanced back to see that the girl with h/c hair had already left.

Much to your horror, you were placed in the same class as your soulmate. You took a fistful of your skirt as you sat behind him. Was he always going to be mean to you? Was he even going to bother talking to you? He didn't even bat an eye when you passed him to sit in your assigned seat.

Blinking tears, you flung thoughts of him aside. So what if your shitty soulmate didn't want to talk to you? It wasn't like he was the last person on earth. You decided to leave him be for the time being and try to make new friends.

By the end of the day, you had befriended the shy greenette from your class. He chatted with you animatedly as you packed your bag to leave class. It was difficult to hold a decent conversation with him at first since he kept blushing and turning away, flustered, but you managed to get him to be comfortable.

And that irked Bakugo to no end.

You tried over and over for that damn Deku hut you couldn't bother even talking to him again? Maybe if you asked his name again, he would have replied. But now you were making him furious. On his way out of the class, he dumped the contents of Deku's pencil case on the floor and stormed off, making sure to at least crack a pen or two under his shoes before leaving.

"What's with him?!" You scoffed, helping Midoriya pick up his stationery.

"He's always been like that..." he mumbled. Your fists clenched at your sides, your nails digging into your palm.

"Are you okay, Y/n?"

"Yeah, it's just that," you looked down at your shoes, confused with the whole soulmate deal, "he's my soulmate."

Midoriya's pencil case fell from his hand, his stationery clattering everywhere. You gave him a deadpan look when he gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. "KACCHAN? YOU? SOULMATES?"

"Announce that in a loudspeaker next time."

"I can't believe this. Y/n, maybe you can change him!"

"Don't be silly. We can't change anyone."

"But- maybe you're the one that will bring out Kacchan's nicer side!"

"Totally." You rolled your eyes.

In a month, you learned to ignore Bakugo's presence. You regularly hung out with Midoriya, much to bakugo's annoyance. He never talked to you, but I made sure you knew he hated you talking to Midoriya. Either way, you ignored Bakugo and managed to steer away from him and his so-called friends.

That was until Midoriya called in sick one day.

Brooding, you left the school building alone. You heard footsteps and snickering behind you and glanced back to see Bakugo's friends. Your eye twitched in annoyance, and you continued walking ahead. But his friends had other plans. They pulled you back by your backpack, almost making you fall.

"Hey, you're the one always hanging out with that sore loser." One of them snickered, taking your bag and unzipping it. "Got any cash? Oh, look, candy."

"Put it back, zip the bag, and hand it over." You said firmly.

"Or what?"

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. They tossed your school bag amongst each other as you tried getting it back. Annoyed, you opened your water bottle, manipulating the water to come out and splash them all. They glared at you, their uniforms wet, rolling up their sleeves. You backed away into a pillar, feeling intimidated.

"What do you fuckers think you're doing?" Bakugo's voice boomed, pushing his 'friends' away from you, stepping in front of you almost protectively.

"Really Bakugo? You're standing up for that quirkless runt's friend?" One of them said.

"You're not laying a hand on my soulmate." He hissed. Realization dawned on their faces, and they stepped back, apologizing.

"Now screw off." Bakugo barked at them.

Sure, you and Bakugo never talked, but when he stood up for you, your chest warmed, and the slightest grain of hope was planted in your heart. You had to put some sort of effort for your relationship to work.

"Uh... Thanks." You mumbled.

"Whatever." He looked away from you, pretending to be uninterested, but stayed put. You gathered your belongings and faced him, scratching your cheek awkwardly. He glanced at you once and made a move to leave, stopping when you held his sleeve.

"Do you want to hang out sometime?" You asked shyly. He stared at you blankly, eyebrows knitted together. You let go of his sleeve, stepping back a little. "We're soulmates, so I thought it would be a good idea to get to know each other a little bit..." you trailed off.

I'm so stupid. What made me think he'd want to get to know me? I'm just another extra in his way. He doesn't care that we're soulmates, so why do I?

"Give me your number." He demanded, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Eh?"

"Are you deaf? Give me your number so we can decide where to meet over the weekend." He grumbled, handing you his phone.

"O-oh." You took the phone from him with shaky hands, adding your number to his contacts, internally cursing yourself for being this excited.

But this was progress, right?

You sighed, glancing down at your phone for the millionth time that afternoon, waiting in the café he told you he'd meet you. He was thirty minutes late. You allowed yourself to wait for fifteen minutes more, before getting up from your seat, tears pooling in your eyes.

What made you think he wanted to get to know you? He probably agreed to a meetup so you would get off his nerves for some time.

"I hate this." You mumbled to yourself, walking out of the café.

"Hate what?" A familiar voice asked. You glanced back with a frown, freezing when you saw Bakugo.

"I get caught up in the rush hour, and you decide to ditch my ass?" He rolled his eyes, voice sarcastic.

"Can you blame me?" You grumbled, looking away.

"Klutz." He clicked his tongue. You followed him back into the café, sitting across from him. He stared outside the giant glass panes, elbow on the table, chin in his palm. The sun cast a soft glow in his hair, his maroon eyes almost glowing. His gaze turned to you again, a frown replacing his once neutral features.

"Done orderin' yet?"

I was supposed to order? You picked up the menu, feeling flustered. You ordered your favourite drink while he ordered a cup of cinnamon tea.

"So what's yer quirk?" He asked.

"Water manipulation," you replied. "I can basically make the water do what I want it to. Pretty lame." You pointed your finger at a glass of water, having drops of water dance around your finger.

"It's not lame. Can you make weapons?" He asked a hint of amusement in his eyes. You nodded, making a small needle.

"It's perfect for a hero."

"You want to be a hero, right?" You asked, smiling. "Your quirk is really strong."

"Damn right." He crossed his arms across his chest, sporting a devilish grin. "What about you?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I don't think hero-ing is my thing, so I'm just going to see where life takes me."

Bakugo snorted, and the little confidence you gained to talk to him went crashing down again. You looked down at your hands, wondering why fate had to put two completely opposite people together. You two would never get along. You felt like he was sitting there across from you solely because he felt obliged to since you were soulmates.

You silently sipped on your drink once it arrived. Bakugo's eye twitched in annoyance as he watched your glum expression. His jaw clenched as he took in your hairstyle and that stupidly cute white colour sundress you wore, a weird feeling surging in his stomach. What irritated him the most was that you barely looked up at him as if you were scared of him.

"Do I scare you, Y/n?" He asked, his voice surprisingly calm. You almost jumped when he used your name.

"Er- a little bit, I suppose?" You replied honestly.

He let out a 'tch', taking a sip of his tea. "It's not like 'm gonna kill you."

"It's not just that... are we going to be like this forever?"

"Like what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Ignoring each other, you being unnecessarily rude to me and many other obvious things."

"First of all, you're the one that doesn't bother even looking at me," Bakugo growled. "Stop making it sound like it's my fault."

"Because the first time I asked for your name you snapped at me!" You reminded, glaring at him. He bared his teeth at you in a scowl. You shook your head, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window.

"Look," He ruffled his hair, averting his eyes from you, "this is new to me. I don't know how to go on about this soulmate shit, so give me some time to get used to it."

Your eyes shifted up to him, your gaze softening. He was right. You two were suddenly forced together. Two completely opposite strangers. It was going to take some time for both of you to get used to this.

"Looks like we both need some time to get used to this."

Bakugo's breath hitched at your smile. He grumbled, looking away with the faintest pink dusting his cheeks. Maybe you weren't that shitty of a soulmate.

He was slowly warming up to you. Slowly, but surely. When you greeted him in the morning, he at least looked at you and grumbled back an incoherent response. He was getting used to your blabbing during free periods and found himself, God forbid, enjoying your voice.

One random day, he decided to walk home with you, much to your surprise. You walked beside him in silence, stealing happy glances at him now and then. You were finally getting somewhere with him. "Where do you live?" he asked, stopping in front of a modern Japanese-style house.

"Just around the corner." You replied. "You?"

"Right here, dumbass." He replied, opening the residency gates.

"Oh. Looks like we live really close." You grinned. His heart almost leapt out of his chest at that stupidly cute grin.

"Whatever..." He stepped on the other side, slamming the gates shut and disappearing into his house.

"Sometimes he acts really strange..." you muttered.

Over the months, you two grew even closer. He respected you enough to let you step into his abode, also known as his room. You two would game or do homework together and then laze around together. If it got too late, he'd walk you home. He made sure to flick your forehead and tease you in greeting every morning.

Even Midoriya noticed.

His jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw you talking to him, your hands making exaggerated gestures as you told him something. The Kacchan he knew would usually yell a 'shut up!' and move on with his day.

It seemed to be going perfectly fine until there were ten months left for Bakugo's entrance exam.

Today, you guys would be filling out forms for the high school you wanted to attend after this academic year was over. Of course, almost everyone in your class wanted to attend hero schools and courses.

"Oi, where are ya going to be attending?" He asked. You held your form up for him to read the name of the high school. It was a regular high school where students who didn't want to pursue hero careers studied.

"It's obviously U.A. for you?"

"Yeah."

Midoriya hopped over to you with his form in hand. The class was almost empty now since the lessons were over. "Y/n! Where are you applying?" He peeked at your form, giving you a beaming smile. "You said wanted to run a business after high school, right?"

"Yup!"

Bakugo glared at Midoriya, a vein popping on his forehead. That damn Deku knew you wanted to attend a business course, but he didn't. Why didn't you ever tell him? Were you scared he'd belittle you? Bakugo stood up, snatching Deku's form. As if on cue, his little minions gathered around him, snickering at Midoriya.

"Look who's applying to U.A. Did you really think a quirkless fuck like you could get into U.A.?" Bakugo cocked his head at Deku, daring him to speak back.

"Kacchan, please give me my form back."

"You want it back? Beg."

"Katsuki, give it back." You said sternly. Ignoring you, he burnt Midoriya's form to ash.

"You'll never be a hero," One of Bakugo's minions cackled.

"If you want to be a hero so badly, take a swan dive off the roof. Maybe you'll be born with a quirk in your next life." Bakugo snickered as he left, glancing back to give Midoriya a smirk. Your eyes widened at Bakugo's words. Deku glared at Bakugo, the angriest you ever saw your green-haired friend.

You never intervened in Bakugo's vendetta against Midoriya before. But when Bakugo spat such venomous words, you couldn't hold it back anymore. You marched out of the class, catching up to him. You put a hand on his shoulder, making him glance back questioningly. You took his hand, pulling him away from his friends.

"Oi, what are you doing?" He asked in confusion as you led him to the staircase. You shoved him against the wall, taking him by surprise.

"What the fuck-" Before he could finish, your palm crashed into his cheek.

"What's wrong with you?!" You screamed. "What would you do if he actually killed himself?!" Bakugo held his cheek in shock, guilt washing over now that he repeated his words to Midoriya in his head. Then rage clouded his senses. You were standing up for Deku instead of him.

"You always do that." He scowled. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "You're always standing up for that fucking Deku! What do you even like about him?! He's just a quirkless nobody!"

"He's my friend!"

"Well, you clearly care for your damn friend more than your soulmate!" Bakugo yelled.

"What- where did that come from?!"

"Hah, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. That damn Deku knew you wanted to go in the business course, but you didn't bother telling me?" He took an intimidating step towards you. "Is it because you think I'm so shitty I would have made fun of you for choosing the business course?"

"It's nothing like that." You replied, unfazed by the steps he took towards you. "I never told you because you never asked since you were too busy flaunting your quirk."

"Just tell me how much you fucking hate me at this point." He scowled.

"You're right. I do hate you and your pride you can't put aside for one minute."

He held his head in his hands, pacing back and forth. He glanced at you, dropping his hands to his sides. "This is why I hate soulmates."

"Don't worry. I'm not very happy about being bound to you for the rest of my life either." You snapped. You turned away from him to descend the stairs, glancing behind your shoulder for the last time. "Good luck being a hero with that mindset of yours. Heroes are meant to protect the weak. Not bully them to death."

Bakugo seethed in his place, his fists fuming. "You know what? I wish I had a scissor the day I found you were my soulmate so I could cut that damn string that made me meet you."

Wordlessly, you left him on the staircase.

When you weren't there in class the next day, Bakugo assumed you called in sick. But when the teacher told him you were moving to another school, his blood chilled. Were you transferring schools because of him?

After school, he found Deku leaving the school building. He ran up to him, stopping the boy. "Why is Y/n changing schools?"

"Umm..." Deku knew the reason you changed schools was Bakugo, but he couldn't say it to his face unless he wanted a fracture in his skull, "she said she found a better school."

Bakugo let Deku go, his eyebrows knitted deep in thought. Were you seriously going to transfer schools without saying a word to him after your fight? Was he a little too harsh? When he paid attention to his surroundings, he realized his feet had taken him to your house. He brought his finger to the doorbell, hesitating. What would he say after the door opened?

I do hate you and your pride you can't put aside for one minute, your voice echoed in his head. He gulped and pressed the doorbell.

An older woman with the same h/c hair as yours opened the door, "Hello. You are...?"

"I'm Y/n's-" Y/n's what? Friend? Clearly, you guys weren't friends anymore. Soulmate? You both expressed you didn't want each other. "I'm Y/n's classmate."

The woman nodded and called for you. He heard you reply, 'I'm coming!' in the background. You appeared behind your mother, peeking over her shoulder to see who it was, freezing when you saw it was Bakugo. You stepped outside, closing the door behind you so you two could have some privacy. You sat on the porch beside Bakugo, playing with a thread on your pants.

"Changing schools, huh?" He was the first one to speak, looking anywhere but at you.

"Yeah," you replied, "it's better this way."

There was thick silence between you two, followed by the buzz of the hot afternoon. Bakugo broke the silence first. "Is it because of me?"

You looked up at the deep blue sky, shielding your eyes from the sun. "I don't know," you admitted. "I want to spend the rest of my months in junior high stress-free. This seems like the only appropriate solution to me."

You met his crimson eyes, giving him a smile, "I want to end this one on a good note. So forgive me for my sharp words yesterday."

Bakugo wished you'd slap him again instead of being so nice to him. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve your kindness. He bit his tongue, trying to ease the surging emotions inside his chest. He wanted to apologise. He really did. But he couldn't.

"Is this goodbye?" He asked. He watched you get up and walk back to your door. He got up, facing you, waiting for a reply.

"See you later." You smiled as you closed the door.

That day was the last time you talked to each other.

Bakugo magnificently failed his provisional licence test. He was curled up in his bed, buried under a blanket, his entire body aching after confronting Midoriya earlier. There was too much running in his mind. It was overwhelming. His hunch of Deku getting All Might's quirk proved to be right, and then there was the fact that he was slowly going to rebuild his friendship with Midoriya. There was also you.

He was fixing his mistakes, working towards being a better version of himself, but he never got to fix his relationship with you. It had been so long since he last saw you he was starting to forget what you looked like. The bond between you two was still there. He knew because every time he held his hand up and closed his eyes, he could still see the red string.

Bakugo got out from under the blanket. After the house arrest, he'd visit his neighbourhood and talk to you again. He wanted you to give him another chance. This time, he wasn't going to let you go.

As soon as his house arrest was lifted, he took the bus and stopped by his neighbourhood. He ran past his house and turned to the corner where your house was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing outside with a guy your guys' age. Your hair had grown longer, and your facial features seemed to have matured from the last time he saw you. You smiled at the mysterious boy standing next to you. Your smile was still pretty as it was before.

Bakugo's jaw clenched when the boy leaned in and grabbed your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. His heart fell to his stomach. Who was he kidding? Did he really expect you to wait for him all this time?

He slowly turned back to where he came from, cursing the tears that formed in his eyes. He wiped them away, convincing himself that you deserved someone better than him anyway.

Schools all over Japan shut down due to the war. You were lazing on the couch, re-reading a novel. Every now and then, you tuned in with the news. You found out Katsuki and many other hero students would be on the frontlines.

If you were being honest, you missed him. Or it was more like you missed the idea of what it would be like if you two remained by each other's side instead of drifting apart. In your freshman year, you got into a relationship with a guy you thought was your type. But you couldn't seem to let your soulmate go, and your ex didn't seem to like the idea of you already having a soulmate. That was the end of your relationship.

You sighed, putting the novel over your face. You suddenly felt a sharp, piercing pain in the left side of your chest. You sat up straight, cupping your breast, trying to breathe the pain away. Unexpectedly, the red string on your little finger appeared again. Your eyes widened, and you stood up.

This time, you did not have the chance to follow it. Because the red string of fate snapped in two.

You picked up the tray with coffee and cake, setting it on your customer's table with a smile. It had been a few months since you opened this café, and business was booming.

Ten years had passed since the incident with the red string snapping in two. After the war was over, you found out that Bakugo died for a short period of time due to the rupture in his heart. It was fixed by the Ninja hero, edgeshot. Bakugo was okay. When you closed your eyes, you could still see the red string. It gave you some sort of comfort knowing he was alive.

At the end of the day, you closed the café, dropping the shutters and securing the lock. You yawned, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover it. You were closing awfully late today. You pulled your long coat tighter around your body, shivering in the cold midnight breeze.

You walked the empty streets, hands in your pockets to keep them warm. You let out a long exhale, watching your breath condense. You felt a slight tug on your little finger and slid your hand out. You stopped breathing when you saw a red colour string around your finger.

You stood there, staring at your hand. After a few seconds of trying to calm your dancing heart, you looked up, your breath hitching. There he was. Standing a few feet across from you, watching you through his ash-blonde bangs, was Bakugo Katsuki.

Tears pooled in your eyes as you took in your soulmate. He'd grown so tall since the last time you saw him. You were just teenagers then. He had gained more muscle, the streetlamps highlighting his gains hiding behind his winter hero suit. He looked ethereal.

He gaped at you in disbelief. He thought he was hallucinating when he saw the red string appear again. He took a step towards you, admiring the beautiful woman you blossomed into. How long had it been? Ten years?

You ran up to him, putting all your uncertainty aside and throwing your arms around him. Bakugo put his hands up in surprise, unsure where to put his hands.

"I missed you, Katsuki." You whispered, your ear on his chest, eyes closed. You felt strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him.

"I missed you too, Y/n" He breathed, his voice reverberating in his chest.

You pulled away, admiring his vermillion eyes shining in the streetlight. He looked so different yet the same. You put some distance between you two, clearing your throat.

"What're you doing out here so late?"

"Patrol. What about you?"

"Just closed the café. I got busy with the transactions and lost track of time." You finished with a small laugh. Bakugo's chest warmed at that sound.

"Opened your own café, huh?" He smirked.

"Yeah," You smiled.

You guys stood across from each other with so much to say, yet no words would form. You shifted on your feet, putting a hand behind your neck, averting your gaze. "I thought... I'd never see you again. When you almost died in the war... it scared me, Katsuki."

"Sorry..." He mumbled.

You shook your head, taking his hands. "I'm sorry, Katsuki. I never gave you a chance. I- I left after saying some pretty mean things. I'm so sorry."

"Shh," His big, calloused hands cupped your cheek, wiping the tear under your eye before it rolled down. He wanted you to know he was a changed man. Sure, he was still a little quick to temper, but his rage had calmed down over the years.

"I'm sorry too, Y/n," He murmured, bringing his forehead to yours. "I said some pretty messed up shit too. I never got a chance to apologize. I'm sorry. Im sorry I pushed you away."

"It's alright, Katsuki," you said, holding the hand cupping your cheek, "we were both immature teenagers. It's okay."

"Will you... will you give me another chance?" He asked, watching your expressions carefully. "Unless you're still with that guy."

"Eh?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Which guy?"

Bakugo's face went beet red, and he stepped back from you, coughing. "You know... that guy you kissed."

Your mouth formed an 'O' in realization. You burst out laughing, making Bakugo sweatdrop. "I didn't even last a week with that guy!" You wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye.

"Whatever..." He blushed, scratching his cheek.

"How did you find out though?"

Bakugo huffed, a small pout on his lips. "I wanted to apologize, but when I saw him kiss you, I wasn't sure you wanted me anymore."

You smiled up at him, your eyes softening. "I'll give you another chance, Katsuki. So please give me a chance, too. Let's fix this together."

He brushed the hair away from your face, tucking some away behind your ears. His index and thumb came down to your chin, tilting your head, eyes drifting down to your lips. You leaned closer to him, your eyelashes fluttering shut. He pressed his lips to yours, his heart racing at the feeling of your soft and warm lips on his.

You went on tiptoes, finding it difficult to crane your neck for him. He smiled against your lips, lowering his back so it would be easier for you. You pulled back for a few seconds, your hands on his shoulders, your cheeks flushed. He dived in for another kiss, this time with more passion. Your back arched when you felt his tongue in your mouth, your hand travelling up to his hair to gently tug on it, his hand behind your neck.

Time might have not been your favour previously, but time doesn't stay the same forever. Both of you were willing to redo everything and close the decade-long gap away from each other. It wasn't too late yet.

Your intimate moment with Bakugo was broken when his pager cracked to life. He almost jumped, pulling away from the kiss. "Dynamight, are you still in the area?" A voice asked, "We need backup."

"I'm comin'" He replied.

He looked down at you, his cheeks red. It was cute. "So, uh- Looks like I gotta go."

"It's alright." You replied, breathless from the kiss.

"Give me your number." He unlocked his phone, handing it to you. You took it from him, saving your contact number.

"See you later, Katsuki." You smiled, handing him his phone.

Bakugo took his phone, feeling content. He pressed another quick kiss to your lips before taking off with explosions, his heart thrumming in his chest. He finally felt at ease after years of wanting to chase you. 'See you later.' You said that ten years ago as well. Bakugo knew it wasn't goodbye this time. Because you would be there with him every day from here on.

#idk why i wrote this #but yayy?#bakugo #bnha #bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bakugo #mha #kacchan #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #soulmate au #bakugo x you #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #soulmates #bakugou x reader

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frickingnerd · 5 months

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dearly despised soulmate

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

summary: you never wanted a soulmate, trying your hardest to keep it a secret that you're katsuki's soulmate. but he eventually finds out that you're the one he's been looking for all this time…

you didn't want a soulmate.

especially not katsuki bakugou!

while everyone had always looked forward to meeting their soulmate, you had always dreaded the moment you'd meet yours. his first words were engraved on your skin and while most people had something like a simple "hello" or a compliment they'd receive from their soulmate like "woah, you're beautiful!" the first words your soulmate would say to you weren't nearly as pretty:

"get out of my way, loser!"

you never looked forward to meeting the one who'd say those words to you and had sworn to yourself that if you knew who your soulmate was, you'd stay as far away as possible from him!

though on the day you met katsuki bakugou, you realized that would be hard to pull off, since your soulmate was your classmate. and not just that, since living together in the dorms, you two crossed paths quite often.

despite that, you tried your best to ignore katsuki. you refused to talk to him, no matter the situation. even when he asked you something, you'd turn away or let someone else do the talking for you.

and for quite a while, it worked. katsuki tried to get you to talk to him time and time again, but never quite realized why you were ignoring him. he even got as far as making the connection that he called you a loser the first time he spoke to you, but never realized that there might be more to it.

he never even considered that you were his soulmate. because his soulmate was someone sweet and caring, someone he looked forward to meeting one day. at least, that's what the words engraved on his skin made him believe:

"let me protect you this time!"

katsuki was always the strongest, always the one to save and protect the people around him. but the thought of someone doing the same for him… he should hate it, but he longed to have someone who would stand up for him and have his back.

the day katsuki found out you were his soulmate was the day he almost lost you too.

class 1A was split into groups, sent out to help ambush a group of villains. katsuki rushed in like always, but this time things went horribly wrong, as he ran right into one of their traps and got himself injured.

you had rushed after him, knowing he'd do something reckless like that. but with katsuki injured and the two of you split up from the group, you were the only one who could protect the two of you, while you had to wait for backup that might never come…

and that's when you turned to katsuki and said those words he's been longing to hear all this time:

"let me protect you this time!"

you flashed him a smile, trying to assure the injured boy that you had what it takes to defeat those villains. and you really did defeat them! though not without getting severly injured yourself.

as you dealt the final blow, the last adrenalin in your body wore off and you finally collapsed in pain. with the last of your strength, you desperately crawled towards katsuki, who had his hand reached out towards you.

"s-see…? i… protected you…"

your voice was shaky. speaking was exhausting and you barely had the strength to do so. it broke katsuki's heart to see you like this.

"dumbass…" he huffed, trying to hold back tears from seeing you like this. "you never had anything to prove to me…"

he inched closer, reaching out his hand towards you. he could almost touch your hand. almost.

"i thought that… i'm a loser…"

you mumbled out, with a faint hint of a smile on your lips. katsuki wasn't sure if you were trying to tease him or if his words had really hurt you that much.

"you're not a loser… you're my soulmate! you're the most amazing person out there…"

katsuki continued to crawl towards you, before he finally collapsed. he was too weak to move. he had almost reached you, but he couldn't hold you yet. oh how he longed to hold you right now…

"you should've… told me that sooner…"

you slowly reached out your hand towards him and bakugou did the same. just a few inches. a few centimeters. your hand almost reached each other. but almost wasn't enough.

"i think that… it's too late now…"

katsuki's eyes widened at your words. he raised his head with what little strength he had left.

"what do you mean?"

but he got no answer.

"h-hey… what do you mean by that?"

still, no answer.

"damn it, dumbass! answer me!"

tears began rolling down his cheeks. despite begging you to answer, he knew you wouldn't.

"please…" katsuki sobbed quietly. "i just found you… i can't lose you already!"

but no matter what he said, his words didn't reach you. you were right. he should've told you sooner. if only he had known sooner...

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sorrowfulrosebud · 8 months

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𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔦 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰𝔫’𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱

Soulmates. What a fucking joke.

It was borderline hilarious to think that a red piece of string no thicker than twine would somehow wrap around a stranger’s pinky and your own, and then suddenly be proclaimed one by the cosmos. It was a reality for your society though, and god did you fucking hate it.

You especially hated it since your soulmate was the reason you were dying.

It had all started during your first year at UA. Adrenaline was coursing through everyone’s veins as they entered the gargantuan doors of the prestigious Class 1-A classroom, marvelling at the sheer size of it.

Katsuki was one of the first people there. Being surprisingly introverted, he wanted to avoid the crowds and find a good seat where he could chill before he could blow shit to oblivion. What he hadn’t intended was for his finger to start twitching like crazy the second the door swung open again.

His pinky finger.

In a single second, a red rope split from the tip of his finger before looping its way around his pinky and travelling across the room to where you stood in awe. Your finger was also driving you insane as the exact same thing happened to you before the rope connected the two of you in the centre.

Both of you stood gobsmacked at the revelation of finding your soulmate. You were filled with so much excitement, so happy and!- wait. Why is he scowling?

Katsuki could feel the initial excitement wear away before the usual irritation seeped through him. Great. Another fucking distraction. He turned his head away from you with an uninterested look, almost shooing you away.

Your smile faltered a little, but not before you gripped your backpack and attempted to make conversation.

“All right class, it took you all seven minutes to shut up. That’s not gonna fly”.

It was so difficult for you to get the handsome stranger’s attention. All throughout the first day, every time you attempted to strike up a conversation, you would be dismissed with a scoff or him immediately walking away.

It was frustrating to say the least. It was an absolute shit show after the training exercise too; Bakugou, as you learned, had a temper as unruly as his hair. Luckily for you, unluckily for him, you managed to catch up to him and nudged him gently on the shoulder.

He glared at you with an intent look, one definitely made to kill.

“What.”

You gulped a little at his gruff scoff before regaining your composure and adorned a small smile.

“Look, I don’t know if you didn’t realise, but we’re soulmates. I was wondering if-“ you were interrupted before you even got the chance to finish.

“You listen here, right freakin’ now. I’m here to become the world’s best hero ever, and I do not need any distractions. This whole soulmates thing is bullshit, just another “fuck you” to people with goals. Do whatever the hell you want, just leave me the fuck alone,” he seethed lowly.

You gulped a little at his intensity. A nervous smile entered your face as you tried to calm him down.

“I understand that it’s… sudden to say the least, but I’d at least like to be friends with you! Your abilities in the training exercise today were really cool, and-” your rambles were ceased completely by an aggravated grunt.

“Did you not hear a fucking thing I just said?! I’m here to be a hero, not to make fucking friends! As far as you’re concerned, you’re an enemy. Nothing but a stone for me to secure my victory. You’re not fucking special just because of some stupid piece of string!” He yelled, causing you to shrink back.

“I was just trying to help you calm down, you seemed very upset after that green haired kid used his power against you,” you looked at him with worry in your eyes. If anything, your dopey eyes infuriated him more.

Something snapped in Bakugou as he lifted you by the collar, causing you to squirm uncomfortably in the air. His palms smoked against your uniform.

“I’m only gonna say this one more fucking time. Leave. Me. The hell. Alone. Go find someone else to fucking pity you useless bitch,” he released you with a scoff as you fell on your ass.

“Tch. As if the universe sent someone as pathetic as you to be with someone like me,” he scoffed as he turned to walk home, leaving you to tear up in horror at how mean your soulmate was.

Unfortunately for you, that single event triggered a near year long bullying. Constant harassment never stopped following you, whether you pestered Bakugou or not. Harshly bumping into you in the halls, criticising your training techniques unfairly and accidentally totally on purpose spilling his protein shakes on your assignments, making them nearly illegible. Aizawa shook his head at your “clumsiness”, often giving you more laps for undone homework or even berating you in front of your classmates.

You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to tell Aizawa the truth. Something bugged you about how troubled your soulmate was to deliberately cause you such aggro. It wasn’t even stuff that you could really tell a teacher for; criticism for fighting villains? Bumping into you in the halls?

You figured that he needed time to sort out his teenage angst, but the bullying was starting to get to you. The belittling comments made you hyper-aware of mistakes, making you anxious easily. Seeds of doubt sewed themselves deep in your brain, making sleep a troublesome process.

Ochaco and Tsu took note of how badly Bakugou seemed to get under your skin, so they took it upon themselves to arrange a day out for you and the girls in the new cat cafe in the prefecture.

“Y’know, I really don’t understand why you won’t tell Aizawa the real reason why you’re struggling (N/N),” Ochaco looked at you worriedly, petting the small white cat perched in her lap. The other girls murmured into agreement.

“For real, Bakugou treats you like utter shit. I mean, he treats everyone like that but you and Midoriya seem to have it the worst,” Jirou said. You gently petted the one-eyed calico cat on the cat tree next to you.

“I understand what you mean, I really do. Don’t get me wrong, he really pisses me off at times, but sometimes I wonder if he’s okay. Like, it can’t be healthy how angry he is,” you pondered quietly.

“But (Y/N), every time you try to talk to him, he always ignores you or says something really mean. Are you sure there’s nothing deeper going on?” Yaoyorozu asked delicately. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the implication.

“Yeah (N/N)! Do you have some kind of masochistic infatuation with him?” Mina asked devilishly. You shook your head determinedly, mindful of the meowing kitties playing on the cat trees.

“No that’s not it at all!! I just think there’s something a little bit deeper to him!! I don’t like him or anything!!” Your face heated up as Mina’s face finally lit up in realisation.

“Oh. My. God. NO WAY?!?” Mina squealed, hugging you tightly. The girls looked at each other in confusion, before starting to realise one by one. Yaomomo looked at you in slight disgust.

“(N/N). Is it true? Is Bakugou your… soulmate?” She didn’t look very pleased at the realisation. You looked down with heated cheeks as you twiddled your thumbs.

“…yes.”

A plethora of differing emotions scattered across the table. Mina seemed thrilled at the idea of you finding your soulmate; Jirou and Yaomomo seemed disgusted; Ochaco and Tsu seemed pitiful whilst Hagakure… well. You couldn’t tell.

“I know what it looks like. I think that underneath that anger and frustration, there’s a good guy. I don’t want to dismiss him as his soulmate immediately because what if I skip out on the best relationship of my life? I think he is really a sweet guy,” you murmured.

“Babe you’re literally delusional,” Jirou glanced at you.

“I agree with Kyouka. Bakugou clearly wants nothing to do with you. You’re only going to get yourself hurt, and as your friend I hate seeing him being so crude to you,” Yaomomo rubbed your hand gently.

“Mhm! It’s not healthy the way he treats you. Soulmate or not, that’s no excuse to treat you so meanly,” Ochaco angrily pouted. Tsuyu turned to look at you.

“(N/N), we’re just saying this because we care. We’ll support you no matter what you do, but please don’t allow yourself to get hurt moving oceans for a guy who wouldn’t jump over a puddle, ribbit,” Tsuyu said.

“Thanks girls, I really appreciate your advice. I’m gonna leave him alone now I think,” you reply sadly. Yaomomo rubbed your arm gently with a reassuring smile.

“It’s for the best, dear,” she said. And for the best it was.

Although Bakugou was still a pain in the ass, you kept to yourself and your friends. You only bothered with him when absolutely necessary for school, and even then it was just the bare essentials of conversation. You stopped asking him about his day, how his training was coming along and how he found the latest essay.

It unnerved him a bit. He didn’t enjoy being plagued by questions, but now you had left him alone? It was a silence he wasn’t used to. But he demanded you stopped talking, right? So why did he feel so… empty?

@sorrowfulrosebud do not copy, steal or translate my works without permission

#🥀 rambles #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bnha x reader angst #bakugou x reader angst #new series guys #soulmate au #soulmates? what a joke #part 1 #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader angst

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bakuswift · 1 year

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Bakugou: What on Earth are you talking about?

Deku: Oh well, it's just, people on the internet think we are dating! Isn't that so funny, Kacchan? Haha.....

Bakugou:

Bakugou: Are we not dating?

Horikoshi: Yeah, aren't you guys dating?

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kiyoobi · 1 month

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we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe • pt 1

Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams?

ao3 link

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him.

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control.

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is.

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes.

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue.

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin.

You okay? The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,

you tell the truth.

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed.

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny.

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work. ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you.

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer.

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise.

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes.

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking agency for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé.

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day.

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge?

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today.

Did you even use your quirk today?

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch.

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away.

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency.

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning).

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume.

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away. You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever.

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race. “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly.

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building.

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now.

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along.

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi, you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again.

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel.

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones.

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind.

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that…

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again.

It meant nothing. Just a random dream.

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him.

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms.

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet.

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off.

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings.

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more.

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it.

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur.

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same.

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you.

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them. You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did.

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful.

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him.

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first.

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate.

None of it matters. You’re happy.

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy.

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again.

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy.

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you.

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call.

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat.

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days.

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist.

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break.

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable.

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you.

You both never fought, you were both so compliant.

But he loves you.

“I love you,” you say.

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning.

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center.

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,”

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up?

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be.

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma.

Almost.

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him. You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole.

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life. Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead.

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride.

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller.

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red.

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?”

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free.

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him.

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction.

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core.

Yes. “No.”

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.”

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner.

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look.

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed.

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter.

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?”

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious.

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea.

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea.

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still.

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too.

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring.

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep.

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast. You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you.

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.”

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love.

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time. The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore.

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what?

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench.

You were fine. You were happy.

Until you made yourself small.

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small.

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow.

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else.

You don’t know where you fall anymore.

-(-)-

#death’s scrolls #mybigbangacademia #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha fanfic #soulmate au #uhhhh what else lmao #i’m so bad at tagging #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you

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dashielldeveron · 2 years

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soulmate trope | bakugou

Bakugou’s route of soulmate trope.

His chapter follows the most standard soulmate rules, so that's why he's first. From here on out, it gets more unhinged.

Warnings: lots of talkin’ ‘bout dicks.

~6k words. Female reader.

Of course you weren’t going to share your soulmate identification with anyone else. It’s right next to your vagina, where your thigh meets your labia. You wouldn’t’ve noticed it yourself if you hadn’t been contorting yourself in the dorm shower stall to shave.

You saw the mark and panicked, going for the mundane instead of the supernatural—what if you had a cancerous mole? But it was way too large for that; you probably would’ve noticed it sooner, if it were a mole, and besides, it was very clearly…shaped.

So, it wasn’t a name or any words but a shape. Some symbol. Hunched over in the steam of the bathroom, you couldn’t fucking tell what it was supposed to be. It occurred to you once you got back to your dorm room that you might be looking at it from the wrong perspective and that the dark shape might be discernible if it were, like, upside-down.

One horrible mirror-camera-flashlight session later, you think you got the right angle. After deleting all of the mistakes and putting the correct one in a hidden file on your phone, you lay in bed, holding your phone above your face and squinting into its light.

This was dumb. This was so dumb.

Because it was either 1) an emanata, a.k.a. those bubbled sound effects in comics such as bam or pow, but the mark was small, spiky (like a punch sound effect?), and solid black. Or it was 2) a very prickly flame.

Both options were, uh. Not ideal.

If it were a comic book emanata, then your first thought would be that guy from 3-B with the onomatopoeia quirk, Manga Fukidashi. He was already matched, though. It also vaguely reminded you of Tetsutetsu’s mask, but that was a stretch.

If it were fire, well. That left Bakugou and Todoroki, both of whom without soulmates accounted for.

If either of them is your soulmate, would he have the same symbol? Would it be in the same place on his body? You couldn’t exactly go up to Bakugou or Todoroki to say, “Hey, any cancerous-looking blotches appear near your cock lately?” God.

And what if you didn’t have all of the details? What if there were more to the soulmate mark than just a tattoo? Can he tell when you’re thinking about him? Can he read your mind?

Well, you grumbled to yourself, plopping back inside your desk for your next class, you couldn’t read anyone’s mind, so if he could, it’s majorly unfair. You slumped in your seat, leaning lazily on your elbow, and scanned the classroom for both of them.

Todoroki already sat at the back of the class, copying something out of a book quietly. He might very well be your soulmate, because whoever hasn’t claimed him yet is an idiot. Todoroki’s a catch—kind, observant, dead clever, extremely talented, not to mention the tiniest bit socially dense—all very nice, non-threatening things in a man, or at least in Todoroki.

The thing, though, is that he wore his uniform correctly, down to the number of buttons buttoned up his shirt. No excess skin was showing, so if he shared a mark, it, too, was somewhere he didn’t display for the general public. Promising, but it still didn’t mean much, especially since his hero costume covered up the same areas.

Cringing, you got out your notebook for class. Yes, it’d be effective to ask him to take off various articles of clothing, but you can’t fucking do that. And in the far-flung situation where you get Todoroki to play strip poker, you’d probably lose.

Startled, you knocked your pencil case off your desk when the classroom door slammed open, the quiet of the classroom shattered by the Bakusquad barging in. Over Bakugou’s bitching about the sparring matches before lunch, Kirishima and Sero were trying to calm him down, Mina and Kaminari talking loudly behind them about what they were doing after class this afternoon.

Bakugou shoved off his friends with a growl and slid into his desk, his legs spread out in front of him with dirt flecking off his shoes. “Just fuckin’ shut up; I had it. It’s no use telling me what damn special move Ida was trying to pull. If he hadn’t caught me like that, I would’ve scorched him.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking soot from it lightly.

Sero held up his hand. “You’ve got to admit that it was a really good move to—”

“Stop talkin’ to me,” said Bakugou, digging through his backpack, “I won’t be able to concentrate if you keep running your trap.”

“Fine, fine.”

Pros of Bakugou being your soulmate:

1) You’d get to be close with an astonishingly complicated and closed-off person, who was intriguing in his own way, clever when he needed to be, driven, determined to do a thing correctly, and, moreover, capable of nearly anything he set his mind to.

2) Pretty boy. Prettyyyyyy

Cons:

1) He’s mean even to his friends. You understood playful teasing, but Bakugou went a bit too far. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.

2) He’d always be too honest with you and hurt your feelings.

3) He didn’t want a soulmate. He’d said that a soulmate would hold him back, that he’d prefer not to have one. Which means he’d reject you.

But really, you considered as you zoned out for the lesson, would you be holding him back, like he’d said? True, your quirk wasn’t as powerful as his, but that didn’t mean that it was worthless. In fact, you considered your quirk pretty damn useful, but you could see how someone like Bakugou could think you’re weak.

If Bakugou didn’t want a soulmate, then he didn’t want a soulmate. But that didn’t stop you from wanting one.

So, it’s simple: you find out what kind of soulmate identifier Bakugou has, toss him once you discover he’s not, and then you move on to Todoroki.

***

“Hey, can I see your cock for non-sexual purposes? It may turn into sexual purposes, but I assure you, the initial look would be purely out of curiosity.” You cracked, smiling wearily at your reflection. More bullshit things you can’t just say to Bakugou. You couldn’t even say it with a straight face.

The more you’ve seen your classmates match up, the more parallels there have been with soulmate identifiers. If Bakugou’s got your mark, it’s totally near his cock.

Not that you don’t want to see it, because while Bakugou was a whiny little bitch, he’s also excessively, annoyingly handsome, now that you thought about it. You weren’t stupid; you’d noticed his perfect skin (guaranteed because of his quirk), sharp eyes, and nice tits, but now that there was the possibility of you having access to him, his appearance was growing on you.

The sound of an explosion shook the glass. “Try that again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

His personality still left a lot to be desired.

In a stroke of luck (but rather just partner rotation), you were assigned that day in hero training to spar with him. You hyped yourself up in the girls’ locker room, not bothering to participate in the gossip but instead planning your own strategy for the fight. It’s been a while since he’s fought you, since you usually have to cycle through the rest of your classmates, but this time, your goal was to—you felt like a damn pervert for even considering it—to tear his costume in some way. See what that modest bitch was hiding. You could pass it off as a different technique in fighting, or something.

When you walked into the training area in your hero costume, Bakugou was already warming up, stretching despite his heavy gauntlets, and his grin that was more of an excited scowl cut across his face.

“C’mon, you damn punk,” he said when you approached him, “Took you long enough. How long’s it take you to get ready to be smeared across the floor?”

“Oh?” you said calmly, like a calm person, like you weren’t about to trip to rip off the clothes of someone who might not even been your soulmate, “Just as long as it takes to cultivate those three brain cells you’ve got rolling about in your head.”

What the fuck, dude; where’d that even come from?

Hissing, Bakugou reached for a grenade on his belt. “You’re gonna be dead before class gets out—”

While Bakugou and you sparred, you zoned out on the muscle memory of your quirk’s special moves, instead thinking about his dick. Since your mark was on the left, his would probably be on the left and probably not directly on his cock itself, which was probably good. The soulmate mark was a bit ugly and amorphous, to be honest, and you were betting—now that you were paying attention to the bulging, sweaty biceps (trying to get you in a chokehold), the tensing and relaxing of the tendons in his calves and thighs, his longer-fingered, calloused hands (letting an explosion go off in your ear)—that his cock would be as infuriatingly pretty as the rest of him. It was practically framed for your perusal, the way it was surrounded by straps on his belt and pants, the straps cutting into the fabric so that the curve of his cock protruded just slightly more than it normally would. Relaxed, but noticeable. And you were noticing.

On the receiving end of an aerial explosion, you let out a grunt as you hit the floor, and Bakugou landed right next to you, squatting while holding down your chest with one hand splayed across your collarbone. His warm hand felt nice on your skin.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he spat, pulling back his mask to get his sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Why aren’t you fighting back? You think I can’t take it? Me?”

You blinked. “I was fighting back—”

“Not like you normally do. Where’s your stealth slide? Where’s your two-step jump? You’re not pullin’ your best moves,” said Bakugou, grinding his teeth, “and it’s really pissin’ me off. You think I’m stupid?”

Panting, you grinned. “I know you’re stupid.”

Huffing, he clamped his free hand around your neck and squeezed the sides. “Try again, you fuck.”

You rolled your eyes. “What makes you think I’m not—fuck, loosen up a little—not trying my best?”

He released his grip on your neck, but he kept his hand there. “You haven’t landed a single blow on me this whole time.” He wrinkled his nose. “You usually get one or two in before I kick your ass.”

“Haven’t I?”

“Thought you’d know.”

You shook your head. “I wasn’t paying atten—”

“I knew it.” Bakugou let go of you and sat back on his heels, disgusted. “You’re a big waste of time if you’re not gonna fight me at your best. Neither of us is getting any better if you don’t value every opportunity to train.”

Your gaze flickered to his crotch for a moment, but it returned very deliberately to his face. “Who says I’m not?”

You seized him by the grenade and attempted to flip him; it was mostly successful, and you ripped the back of his shirt in the process. For the split second he was face down, your hungry eyes took in the patch of skin exposed on his lower back—muscled and pretty but unfortunately bare.

Bakugou, his chest heaving, snapped his head back to glare at you, his jackal-teethed grin growing even wider. “I dare you to try that again.”

***

Though it pained you, you took to studying in the common rooms. You couldn’t concentrate with everyone’s clamouring or trying to talk to you. You ultimately brought down material you already knew, so it didn’t matter if you were interrupted.

“No, no, Jirou, it’s fine,” you said, pen in your mouth as you unzipped your backpack, “I have extra.”

Ducking from a miniature bag of popcorn tossed over the couch towards Kouda, you riffled around for some notebook paper. Jirou was grabbing it from you as the tall, dorm door swept open, letting in hot, humid air into the cool commons.

With Kirishima jogging up behind him, Bakugou stormed into the dorm, post-workout, sweating, pressing his icy water bottle to his cheek and rolling it down under his chin and to his neck as he passed you: black tank top, black sweats.

Modest bitch.

Consistent bitch.

Nothing new, even though it was great to see his biceps every time. But since he’s been consistent with what he’s been wearing, you haven’t been seeing any new skin, since you’ve started camping out. It’s not just going to happen; you’re going to have to make your own opportunities.

Jirou tugged the paper from your hands and shot you a curious look, and you laughed it off.

God, you cringed to yourself. You have to be careful, lest you get a reputation for being a creep. How to go about this delicately?

***

You stood with your laundry basket on your hip, meagrely filled with stuff that looked dirty at a glance, staring into the whirling window of a school dryer. The zippers knocked against the metal insides, the only flash in the heap of black clothing. Must be his dark load. He seems like he’d care about that.

It’s the only dryer going at the moment, since it’s early Saturday, but there were two washers going, the hum louder for reverberating off the basement walls.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to steal Bakugou’s laundry.

You glanced at the bleach in your own basket. Maybe it would be better to simply ruin his clothes, since it’d be hard to sneak away with a whole load of clothes up multiple sets of stairs. But that’d be mean, and you would eventually return his clothes, just after a while.

Crouching on the reflective tile, you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. This was dumb. This was too dumb. You couldn’t do it. You wanted to kill everyone who’s taken your clothes, so Bakugou would want to murder you anyway. Todoroki, though—he probably wouldn’t notice if you took anything. You wished you were onto him already, instead of agonising over this idiotic—

You jolted at someone’s clomping down the stairs—in flip flops, by the sound of it. The grumbling under his breath stopped once Bakugou rounded the corner and saw you, pushing on your knees to stand, and he arched a brow.

“What, you’re so bored you don’t have anything better to do than to watch clothes spin?” He slams a basket full of lights (you caught a flash of an All Might logo from his silver age) onto the top of an unused washer. “I’ve got some series you should watch, then.”

Big sigh. Bakugou covered himself up more than usual—his white t-shirt cuffed nicely at his upper arms, but no new skin for you to peruse. Sweats again, too. Comfortable bitch. Dress like a slut, you coward.

“I’m not watching laundry,” you said, moving towards an unused washer yourself, “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way. Maybe if you slip something into his laundry—say, a tiny little pair of slutty shorts—then he might wear those.

“Yeah? Can’t be anything worse than your little fuck-up in class, can it? Little Miss Place-bo,” he said, nudging you with his elbow between the shoulder blades.

You swore under your breath. “Listen! Anyone can make that mistake!” You threw up your hands and turned to him. “Anyone can pronounce—pronounce, uh.”

Your mouth hung open as Bakugou grabbed his shirt by the back of the neck and yanked it over his head, the light cotton fabric catching on his hair. In the precious moments before he could make eye contact with you, you greedily drank in his lower abdomen—defined way beyond toned—this man is fucking ripped, hard lines outlining his muscles—especially those glorious lines forming a v and trailing into his sweats (c’mon, c’mon, make a move to pants him right now; you can pass if off as an accident; do it—)

“Forget how to pronounce it again?” Bakugou made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle as he tossed his shirt into the washer, along with a detergent pod. His abs flinched at the cold of the metal when he leant into the washer, and you had a hard time dragging your eyes away. “Plah-see-bo,” Bakugou said in English, his voice teasing.

You swallowed drily and made yourself look at his face. “Yeah? Bite me, Bakugou. We can’t all be perfect all the time—”

“Strange invitation,” said Bakugou, but he snatched your hand off your own detergent bottle, and he held it in front of his mouth for a moment, pausing for your reaction.

Your mild surprise morphed into terror when the expected, albeit out of character, kiss to the back of your hand did not happen, and instead he bared his teeth, his tongue running over the sharp points before clamping them together. He took the pad of your ring finger into his mouth, and though he made motions to chomp down quite violently, the bite itself was delicate. Gentle.

It took his tongue swiping over your finger for you to remember to jerk your hand away, and he rolled his eyes, letting out another scoff-laugh, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest (Your own eyes fell to them, bulging a little. Seeing Bakugou’s tits won’t solve the soulmate problem, but by God, did it make you feel alive).

“Hey, don’t freak out. You’re the one who said to bite you.”

Feeling your face heat, you turned to your own laundry. “Does figurative language mean nothing to you?”

Bakugou shrugged and stretched his arms over his head (a quick check of the armpits—no soulmate mark). When you were this close, you could see the light tan freckles around his scars.

***

Okay, if the embarrassing thing also happened to you, then you clearly couldn’t be the culprit. Therefore, when you and Bakugou both took a late-night shower, both of your clothes would go missing.

For your part, you simply left the pyjamas you’d be changing into in your dorm room and simply brought a towel that would cover you well.

Sneaking into the boys’ bathroom and stealing Bakugou’s clothes while he’s in the shower was another story.

Step one: set up your stuff in the girls’ bathroom, but don’t get wet yourself. Dripping water on the bathroom tile would give away that someone had been there.

Two: when Bakugou has just put soap in his hand (and therefore starting a new task, not paying attention to outside the shower), take his clothes from the little stool outside the stall curtain.

Three: skibble back to your shower to get wet, as if you’ve been in the shower all along.

Four: Do all of the above in an instant, since Bakugou takes aggressive but short showers.

Five: wait for the shouting.

Step one accomplished, you’ve wrapped yourself in your biggest towel, cosy and firmly situated not to fall, and as stealthily as you could in your shower shoes, you sneaked down the hallway and into the boys’ bathroom.

The water hissed onto tile in the farthest stall from the door (great, cool, fabulous), and Bakugou’s voice—fucking humming some song popular a few years ago—floated through the steam.

Tiptoeing in flip-flops doesn’t work too well. There’s a moment where you squeaked and winced, listening for a sign of acknowledgment, but it never came. You couldn’t take your time, because he could shut off the water at any moment, but you couldn’t just flippity flop all the way—oh, stop thinking. Just do it.

Within arm’s reach of the wooden stool in front of Bakugou’s shower, the scent of his shampoo wafted towards you, mixing with the steam—man, that apple shampoo was useless, since nitroglycerine smelt like caramel—oh. Oh, that’s cute of him. Caramel-apple-autumn-basic-bitch.

He’s still humming as you stretched for his pyjamas—your wide eyes pinned to his silhouette through the nasty school curtain—good God, if you just ripped open the curtain, you could see everything—but then 1) you’d be labelled a pervert forever and 2) if he is your soulmate, it’s not a very romantic way to find out. Still. The shadow of his ass had a curve that wouldn’t quit.

Okay, okay, stop gawking. Grab the clothes, yes, and sneak away—quietly, quietly. Don’t shower shoes your way out.

Hold up.

Rushing into the girls’ bathroom, it occurred to you that your plan hadn’t included something to do with his clothes.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Um, you can’t just hide them in your stall, because he might come investigate in here, too—oh, uh. Oh, God.

Through the pipes overhead, you heard the water shut off for the boys’ bathroom.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you said, kicking open a bathroom stall and peering into the toilet, “Oh, God—no, I can’t—” Grimacing, you dashed out, tripped on your towel, and stumbled to the trash can. “Forgive me, Bakugou,” you said under your breath, and you hid his pyjamas underneath some paper towels.

You flicked on a sink to hold your head under the water, getting your hair and shoulders wet enough to look convincing, hopefully.

Now for the show.

Looking nervous, you peered into the hallway between the bathrooms, and you tentatively took a tiny step into it, your hair dripping onto the carpet.

The door to the boys’ bathroom slammed open, despite the time of night, and Bakugou strode out with his shower basket, looking grim but no worse than usual, with—with a—

You’re going to pass out. You’re going to pass out and drop dead. You’re pretty sure Bakugou could hear the nyoom as you stared at his—for fuck’s sake, he’s wrapped what’s got to be, like, a hair towel around his waist, barely skimming the top of his thighs.

A man’s got legs.

The thin, white towel covers him enough to be modest, but holy shit, his cock basically doesn’t matter when his legs are like that: thick, powerful thighs, sturdy, muscular, and would splay your legs far apart if you straddled one of them, and calves with definition that comes from running regularly for sport. Mother of God, get this man some booty shorts. He would win every fight immediately.

Oh, he’s said something. You shook yourself. “Sorry, what was that?”

Bakugou grunted. “Didn’t expect to see anyone up this late. I must have forgotten my clothes, so.” He scratched the back of his neck and jerked his head to the side.

Your eye twitched as a bead of water ran from his nipple and down the side of his ribcage.

“Left?” Oh, you hadn’t considered that he might blame himself. Do you bring up that someone might have stolen yours, since he doesn’t suspect? What do you do? “Uh, looks like we’re in the same boat,” you said, tugging your towel up, despite it still covering everything.

Wait, maybe you can flash him, and he’ll make the soulmate connection—

“You should be asleep,” said Bakugou, turning towards the stairs, leaving wet footprints behind him, “It’s not healthy to be up this late. You need to take care of yourself.” He glanced over his shoulder at you. “You can take the elevator.”

You blinked. “Oh, uh. Thank you. You get some sleep, too.”

Clearing his throat, Bakugou shrugged it off. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

Bakugou won’t go swimming with the rest of the class. He won’t re-design his costume. Your theoretically accidental spills never hit him. You ended up with nothing but some unvarnished lust, unrequited affection, and coffee to clean up from the floor.

You’ve decided: one more day, and then you’re moving on to Todoroki. This soulmate search shouldn’t take this long.

Todoroki would be easier to love than this overly determined, stubborn-ass perfectionist who holds everyone else to the same high standards. God knows you don’t live up to Bakugou’s standards, so it’s good that this is the last day. He probably wouldn’t want you, anyway.

So, in this last, cloudy day of allowing yourself to like Bakugou, you shirked your own work to sit on the side of the gym with a book as a flimsy excuse to watch Bakugou do one-armed push-ups, his scowl growing deeper with each bead of sweat that dropped to the mat.

The gym slowly cleared out the further into the evening it got, and when Sero waved his goodbye to Bakugou, he’d spat out a response as stormy as the rain that pelted the gym roof. Huffing, he shot a glare towards you, and you snapped your book upright, not seeing the words.

It’s just the two of you in the gym, almost closing time, with Bakugou left in charge to close up with the thunderstorm raging outside.

You wanted to squeeze your heart to a pulp. He knows. He’s got to.

When the power flickered out at a particularly harsh thundercrack, Bakugou didn’t even react. Turning on the flashlight on your phone, you trotted over, stepping over some weights, to shine your light on his backpack as he ferreted everything away.

He grunted as he swung the strap over his shoulder, and without so much as a glance back towards you, he trudged to the gym door. He held it open for you, grimacing at the rainfall, and you slipped underneath his arm.

As the electronic door clicks shut behind the both of you, the rain picked up, striking the pavement like swords into sod. Squinting up at the sky, Bakugou shifted more closely to you underneath the tiny awning outside the door.

“I shouldn’t run through this shit,” said Bakugou, shifting his backpack to his front, “I’ve got my term paper in here.” He eased himself down onto the cramped bench, scooting the edge of it under the awning so that you’d both be able to sit. “You, you’d get so fucking soaked you wouldn’t be able to lift your feet, and then I’d have to cover your ass.”

So.

The two of you couldn’t get back inside, due to the power outage and electronic lock, and your phone was on its last dregs; he didn’t carry his around. You found yourself sitting less than the width of your hand away from someone who might be—oh, who are you kidding? This idiot isn’t your soulmate. So, it didn’t matter if you ruined it.

“Hey,” you said, and when he didn’t respond, you spoke more loudly, over the rain, “Hey, uh, Bakugou. Are you doing well?”

He shot you a look out of the corner of his eye and didn’t even bother to answer, simply crossing his arms across his broad chest. As if catching himself, he uncrossed his arms again and rested one on the bench between you.

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.” You shifted in your seat away from his hand, because you didn’t want to take up room that Bakugou wanted; it’d make him hate you even more. C’mon, this is the last time you’re going to have Bakugou as a captive audience, and then you can avoid him for the rest of your sorry life.

C’mon. Open your mouth and say it.

(“I need to see your dick?”)

You can do this.

(“Take out your rascally ol’ penis so that I can see your soulmark, you cuddly bastard.”)

Bakugou cleared his throat so gruffly it practically blended in with the thunder. “What are you reading?” He nodded towards your book, leaning over your lap to see the cover.

Oh. You tilted it his way, lightning flashing on the glossy letters. “It’s a social history that came out two months ago; it more or less triangulates the connections between hero marketability, social media, and romantic relationships. Midoriya leant it to me; it’s not exactly a thriller, but it’s informative.”

(“Cock now!”)

Bakugou seized the book from your grasp, hunching lazily on his hand between the two of you. “God, this looks miserable,” he said, thumbing through it, holding it away from the rain dripping off the awning, “Cynical and cold to even think about it. Why are you wastin’ your time over hero romantic marketability? Does that matter to you?”

God, he was taking up more and more space on the bench. You kept scooting away from his hand, which he had lifted from the cast iron to flex his fingers before returning to its spot, but now that the arm rest of the bench was pressing into your thigh, you couldn’t go any farther. Bakugou is a big guy, sure, but does he need a whole bench? “Um—no, not really, but, but it might affect—someone’s career in the future, and—I don’t wanna mess that up for him.”

You took the book back from him and clutched it to your chest, retreating as much as you could to the end of the wet bench without it cutting into your skin or getting into the rain. You were wincing, scrunching up your face and flinching away from him, closing your eyes so that you wouldn’t see whatever foul expression he’d have for you. Bakugou tugged on the book in your hands, but you gripped onto it more tightly, hunching in on yourself.

Ask him now. Ask him now, and you can bolt if he tries to kill you. He won’t follow you into the rain because of his term paper.

You can do it.

Oh, God, you can’t do this—

“Goddamnit,” said Bakugou, fumbling for the book, “Are you gonna let me hold your hand, or—”

“Please let me see your cock!” you shouted a bit too loudly, shielding your face with your face with your hands, and the book dropped from your lap to the wet pavement.

The rain bombarded the awning uninterrupted for a few painful seconds.

Peeking through your fingers, you watched Bakugou, his brow furrowed, pick up your book from the awning’s dripline, and he gently shook water off of it before wiping the cover on his sweats.

“Well,” he said at last, “if that’s the reaction I get when I try to hold your hand, I can only imagine what’ll happen when you let me kiss you.”

“No, no—forget I said anything. Forget everything I’ve ever done. Forget me. I’m,” you said, spluttering as you stood, “I’m leaving.”

“Stop.” Bakugou didn’t even have to grab you by the hand to stop you; all he did was graze the inside of your wrist. “Sit back down. Very good. Good girl. Tell me why you need to see my cock,” he said way too seriously, stretching his muscular arm behind you on the bench.

How is it fair that Bakugou was so calm while you were freaking out? Steeling yourself, you made yourself make eye contact, trying to be as serious as he was. “Bakugou, I think we may be soulmates.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “And that correlates with my dick how?”

Bakugou won’t even have to kill you after this. You’ll do it yourself. “I need to see if you have a soulmark there. Well, not technically your cock but more like the area around it—”

“You think we’re soulmates because of soulmate marks,” said Bakugou flatly.

“I—”

“You know what! Fine.” Bakugou threw his hands up in surrender, surprisingly placid. “If you need to see my cock to affirm we’re soulmates, I’m down. Got two conditions, though.”

You swallowed with a dry throat. “What are they?”

“One,” he said, holding up his index finger, looking smug as hell, “you’ve gotta do it kneeling.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, uh. Okay.” This must be how Bakugou kills you. Either that, or your heart is going to burst out of your chest, with how hard it’s pounding. “I’ve, uh. Never—” You cut yourself off and moved in front of him.

“I’ll keep your book from getting wet, but I can’t guarantee the same about you, sweetheart,” said Bakugou, spreading his legs for you.

If you weren’t going to commit suicide, you’d murder him. Maybe you can fit both into your schedule. You got on your knees between his legs, shuffling a bit closer towards him than you would’ve liked to keep out of the rain. Sighing, you cautiously lifted your shaky hands to the ties on his sweats.

You paused to look up at the smug bastard. “You didn’t mention the second condition.”

His teeth glinting in a grin, Bakugou reached down to curl some of your hair behind your ear, not that it really needed it. “Afterwards, I get to punch you in the face.”

You shrank away from his thighs, trying not to let him see your jaw tremble in the flashing light. No. You’ve come this far, and if Bakugou will kill you with a punch, then that’s probably better than disembowelling yourself, or something. You’d like to see his dick before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for his sweats again. He, accommodatingly for some reason, lifted his hips for you to tug them down, but you took a moment before doing the same for his plaid boxers. You’re not going to cry out of fear and embarrassment; you’d be the girl who cried at the sight of a cock.

You glanced up at him. Bakugou glared down at you, his head tilted to the right, arms splayed across the back of the bench. He was clearly suppressing a smirk—you didn’t know why; wouldn’t be more humiliating if he laughed at you in the moment?

All right, you’re pulling down his boxers. Do it.

Closing your eyes as thunder rolled, you braced yourself and dragged down the fabric, careful to keep his bare ass from touching frigid cast iron, but it happened anyway (he hissed slightly at the cold). You froze, your hands still gripping the waistband of his boxers when they reached the mid-thigh, and you ducked your head.

“You gonna open your eyes?” His voice cut you straight to the bone. “You’re gettin’ punched for this; you might as well look.”

You were not above temptations of the flesh.

You were right: his cock lived up to the rest of his unfairly pretty-boy body, even though at this point it wasn’t even fully erect. Stupid and pretty and flushed, curving to the side just slightly with a pulsing vein (artery?) going up the same side that curved. The thick base sat amongst dark blond curls, and when you huffed in frustration, it twitched when your hot breath blew over it.

Scowling at his cock, you said, “Where’s the soulmark?”

“You’re an idiot,” said Bakugou, yanking his boxers and pants back up, and he didn’t even stand up to punch you; you hardly had time to prepare yourself properly. All you saw was his huge fist reeling back for a split second before smashing into your face.

You fell back on your ass, extremely baffled but somehow not in pain. You touched your cheeks, your mouth—nothing was broken or even aching. Bakugou had looked like he was going to slam you into the next century; why did it only feel like a tap on the cheek?

“You look confused,” said Bakugou, grinning and crossing his legs to hide the growing bulge in his sweats, “Don’t tell me you’re as stupid as you look.” He held out his hand to help you up, and he pulled you back onto the bench, this time sitting under his arm around your shoulders. “We’re soulmates, all right, but we don’t have marks. We can’t physically cause each other pain.”

You hesitantly snuggled into his pec, and he hummed when you did, so you supposed that was permission. Bakugou emanated a bunch of body heat; you should have done this when you first came out into the rain. And things were falling into place: the bite to your finger, the sparring when you couldn’t hit him…

“You’ve let me flounder?”

He tightened his grip around your shoulder. “I thought it’d be more fun for you if you figured it out yourself.”

Frowning, you gently hit his chest. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough to enjoy your terrible attempts to get me naked, sweetheart,” said Bakugou with a smile so annoyingly self-satisfied that you couldn’t look at it for long, “All you had to do was ask.”

“Oh, my God.”

With his free hand, he reached over to lace his fingers through yours. “Do you still have my pyjamas?”

You groaned into his shirt, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Yes. I was gonna wash them first, though. But wait,” you said, “I have a soulmark.”

Bakugou scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“I do; it’s right next to—to my vagina,” you ended in a whisper, almost covered under the thunder.

“Dumbass. It was probably a bruise.” He was stroking your upper arm with two of his fingers. “It’s gotta be gone by now. Have you checked recently?”

“Uh,” you said, biting your lip and glancing away, “No. But I have pictures!”

“Show me,” he said, and he waited for you to dig out your phone, which died as soon as you pulled it up.

“I swear that it looked a bit like an explosion—”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean like a normal bruise?”

“I think I would know when I got a bruise there.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Fine, then where’d you get that bruise on the back of your left leg?”

“What?” You twisted your leg, pulling up your capris a bit to see the full bruise. “I don’t—I didn’t know I had one there. Shut up. Okay, it’s possible that I mistook a bruise for a soulmark.”

Bakugou shifted so that he was facing you and took both of your hands in his, playing with your fingers. “Want me to check?”

You jolted in your seat, hands tensing in his. “Ex—excuse me?”

“You don’t know if it’s a soulmark, yeah? I do, but you seem to like proof. I can look for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—” Too flustered to speak well, you nodded at Bakugou’s encouragement, with the voice in the back of your head saying that you could easily get addicted to the tender way he’s looking at you.

“Good girl. I’ll only do it with a condition, though,” said Bakugou, getting on his knees in front of you, nudging your legs apart, “I get to do it kneeling.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou/reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fic #mha #bakugou headcanons #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

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sugarlywhispers · 3 months

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hey y'all~ here's a little sneak peak to the Bakugou!Soulmate AU i'm currently writing c:

also, this will include Reader!Lava Quirk, since y'all liked my other imagines with that quirk~ <3 c;

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha angst #bakugou!soulmate au #mha soulmate trope

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keepyoureyesonmedeku · 1 year

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CHILDOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS

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hotwings0203 · 2 years

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Bully Bakugo w a soulmate be likeee ehehehe

Tw:noncon, bullying, stalking

It would’ve been easier if he had outright tormented you. If it had been you who was the victim of the surrounding bullying, the not-so-quiet snarls of insults that came hurling at your female friends, the physical altercations that his goons would exchange between the guys in your class that you’d laugh with, but no.

No, he wasn’t that merciful. He wanted you to know that inside the targeted circle of your friends and family lied a very isolated you.

He was picking off these people one by one to get closer to you, akin to the way he was picking off each layer of skin that protected you from his grasp.

He never spoke a word to you because he never had to. When you’d be walking with your friends behind the school, he was always there with his own posse, gravitating towards your group and quietly observing as his looming henchmen would pick at your friends’ skirts, push their books out of their shaking hands, call them horrible names.

You knew he was behind it, because above the defensive fear your friends showed, and amidst the cruel laughter his men boomed out, Bakugo would always be behind the shadows of his cronies, head tilted, eyes narrowing up and down your figure, a mocking sympathetic smile that never seemed to cease as tears would fill your eyes.

When disgusting rumors came out about your family being involved with numerous scandals, you hadn’t the heart nerve to stand up in front of the room and confidently deny the false claims. Your peers knew they weren’t true, but they saw your head down and knew to simply leave you be. Their silence was enough support for you.

What they didn’t see however, was a sight only for you across the class.

While your fists curled in your skirt and your mouth trembled at hearing all the lies read from the articles about your extended cousins and siblings, you could feel his stone-cold, yet triumphant gaze on you. He’d always make sure to be seated somewhere he could assess your body language and turn the knife in your heart further. Your classmates didn’t see it, because he saved the show of palming his bulge at the sight of you breaking only for you. He made sure when you dared to lift your gaze a minuscule amount to confirm your worst suspicion, his hips would lift crudely and thighs would flex threateningly at a promise of your future with him.

You stayed mute, knowing that the day you acknowledged him, he’d win.

Once you’d beg him to stop the lies, the fear, the target on your back, the pain, he’d have you under his thumb, right where he wants you.

So you opted to grin sheepishly and bear it for a little while longer, your surrounding circle too scared to call you or him out on this perverted cat-and-mouse game that they were so unfortunate to be casualties in.

But although he seemed amused at your avoidance of him, the antics only got worse from then on.

He began to grow bolder at your bowed head, and started to approach you more closely. Not enough to warrant an actual reason for you to pin the blame on him, but enough to make you jumpier and more frazzled than usual.

Bakugo began sitting even closer to you now in class, going so far as to sitting directly behind you. You’d feel it, the breath on your neck, the hot fingertips trailing down your skirt, his feet sliding under your desk to push your own shoes apart and in turn, pushing your thighs open.

And when you told your friends to stop walking you home for their sake, you didn’t miss the foreboding shadow of a familiar figure trailing behind you all the way down the block.

Protecting, and threatening.

Promises that warranted a restraining order in your inbox, pictures in your messages that made you sick to your stomach, random facts about the daily habits of close people on your lives, all the solidify the fact that he knows enough to take you down if you fuck with him any longer.

You thought your submission is what he wants, but Bakugo’s version of submission isn’t avoidance.

It’s you, in his bed, tied up with galaxy-colored splotches decorating your body like a painting. It’s your mouth, open and tongue rolling out, various tones of pain and pleasure whining out for him, covered in his white love. It’s your tits, your ass, your sweet, sweet fucking cunt perspiring wanton lust for him, your body bouncing up and down his dick like a trampoline, face down, ass up, holes open and stretched to accommodate whatever the fuck he puts inside of you.

Taking what he gives you from the front, the back, bent over on the sofa, pressed against the shower door, lifted up against the walls, your blood and cum mixing together as you shake without his supporting hold on you.

Needing him, as he needs you.

And one day, his premonition comes true.

It’s sick, truly, how you did nothing but hold your tongue and yet the world laughs at your patience.

Your friends are matched with their soulmates, excited hushed squeals erupting the classroom as the loudspeaker blares the pairing over the intercom as procedure makes it so. Blushed smiles from across the room are met with whooping, joyous laughter from the rest of the room, and one by one, everyone around you has met their lifelong partner.

And as the pool narrows down to you, him, and a select few others, the smile reserved for the celebration of your friends’ futures starts dimming when realizing what could be in your own.

It’s not possible, your girlfriends say, seeming to be inspecting the marks on their shoes and cuticles on their hands for much longer than they can look at you. There’s absolutely no way, don’t even think about it. He’ll get matched with someone from another school, another city, another country, and then you’ll never have to see him again.

But distance is a funny thing, and time works in accordance as a few weeks later, a name is called with yours-a name that sends goosebumps down your spine, that chills your heart and crushes your hope.

A name that, you thought would come to pass, but instead has thrusted itself into your life forever more.

It seems like the clock has stopped, and that there is only you two in the room when you finally meet each others’ gazes for once.

His, a disgusting mix of wonder, smugness, frenzied craze, and…

Something too soft for you to want to put a name to.

The room is in a state of pin-drop silence.

There is no whooping, no playful jeers, no clapping, or teasing. Even his goons seem shocked that the universe has made this bantered game of predator and prey into something much more deadlier, more cruel and permanent.

Bakugo Katsuki is etched on your ribs, below your heart.

You swallow hard, and tilt your head down, continuing the lesson your professor stutters to finish, yet never blinking.

You don’t want him to see the everlasting tears fall from your eyes.

And he’s not stupid either.

He stays there in the building, right in his seat even after the lecture has ended and you’ve bolted out of your chair to go back home.

Remains rooted as he watches from the window his friends ignoring yours for once, his authority not there to egg them on with you not in the lucite.

He doesn’t need to move, time will go on with only you in his life from now on.

The sun goes down right in front of him, and it reminds him of you, starting off bright and darkening as the moon comes out to take its place.

It feels like the hours haven’t moved though from the way he stays in the same position as he was when your conjoined names were called. His neck grows stiff as he becomes lost in thought, unmoving as his body begins to heat up.

Bakugo can’t tell if it’s because of your name being seared into his inflammable skin, or because his burning desire for you has grown exponentially within a few hours.

And why should it, when he need not crave for you any longer? After all, just as the sun and the moon move in accordance with each other, both your lives will not proceed without each other’s in complement.

He’ll take you so as he pleases, as his god-given birthright on you has been proven before his very own eyes, has been spoken aloud and written across his veins for others to witness.

So he sets out to find you, where he knows you’ll be when he finally hears the entrance doors creak open at night.

He bets you think you’re so smart for coming here so late, so cunning and sly as you thought you were when you ignored his presence.

But his existence is a reminder of his dominance over you. To be better, stronger, and smarter than you is the reason he’s alive in accordance to you.

He listens, and waits, as he’s always done.

You’re so predictable, it’s cute if not pitiful. Your steps can be heard loud and clear from downstairs across the school building, echoing through the halls and pinpointing exactly where you are.

And you, poor little you must’ve thought he’d see you in the morning, huh? That he went home along his merry way, skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk as he terrorized someone else for a change? You thought he’d let you celebrate your last day of independence by yourself before he plagued your life tenfold the next day?

If that’s the case, it’s time to show you how being alone and naive can be so dangerous for a weak little girl like yourself.

That’s why when he creeps downstairs extra cautious of his footsteps, you’re comfortable nosing around the headmaster’s office, being as disruptive and frantic as you can. What you’re looking for, he has no idea, but with your back turned to him at the threshold of the door he can see it clearly after a couple minutes of you scavenging around.

It’s some kind of paperwork to file a claim of changing your soulmate, something he didn’t even know existed. The big, bold letters at the head of the paper omit a sigh of relief from you, but before you can pocket the crumpled paper, he speaks low and gravelly into the silence.

“That’s not very nice.”

You shriek and whip around, clutching your heart and looking white as a ghost at the intruder’s voice…only to turn have your knees buckle and heart drop to your ass at the sight of who greets you.

He’s standing there, crossing his arms across his chest and looking almost-bored if not for the dark glimmer in his eyes. It doesn’t help your situation that his drake fills up the space in the doorway and effectively blocks off your exit. Your eyes dart around the room, looking for another way out before he speaks again, keeping his voice barely contained with palpable rage bubbling beneath his skin. You’re still ignoring him, even as your doom lies before your very eyes.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” He juts his chin out like an ape and cocks his head at the pink paper pressed against your chest.

“N-nothing. What the hell are you doing here anyways?” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but it backfired tremendously, cracking in turn to add insult to injury.

It makes you wince, and he lets the silence between the two of you simmer in the room for a solid minute just to increase your uneasiness.

He sighs and pushes himself off the doorway before striding towards you leisurely, the casual hands stuffed in his pockets doing nothing to hide the fists of rage curled beneath the fabric and making you bleat with fear as you notice the same thing.

The blond backs you up against the bookshelf and continues snarling quietly, “I’ll let that tone slide since I haven’t taught you the proper way to address me yet, but for future reference, when I ask you something, answer me and respond with sir, master, or daddy. I’ll let you pick since I’m so nice.”

As he reaches out for the paper in your hands you turn on instinct and bolt sideways the second he nears you.

It’s a pathetic struggle, one that doesn’t even last for 2 min tired before he’s pressed up against your back, his palms against yours and splaying your fingers out to where the paper is in clear sight.

He’s hyper aware of your body so close to his, and he cursed his heart for pounding faster when you squeak and squirm against his hold.

To quell his own nerves, he snarls into your ear and makes you cringe as he reads aloud the words on the paper. “Hasnt even been a full 24 hours and you wanna leave me already? I’m hurt sweetheart, you didn’t even give me a chance yet.”

He hopes the bitterness in his heart doesn’t bleed truth into his words, hopes the biting jeer slipping from his tongue covers the insecurity at you being so close and literally in his grasp, yet so far from where he wants you to be.

The shadows coming from the grand windows of the room seem to tighten their hold and looming figure above you, like he inhabits the darkness itself.

“I-I don’t wan-wanna be y-your soulmate,” you sob out with shaky words. It’s unnecessary to say, if he’s being honest, because the trembling of your body against his boner gives your feelings away anyways.

But nonetheless, he bites into it and grazes his teeth along your neck while continuing to spit venom.

“Didnt realize I got ownership of a bratty little pet. Don’t worry, I’ll curb that attitude soon enough. After all,” he croons as one large hand relinquishes it’s hold on your feeble wrists and slides the bottom of your shirt up. The cold air against his hot touch makes you gasp slightly and causes the stiffness of his cock against your ass to be even harder at the noise. His thumb caresses the underside of your tit as he traces his name over your heart.

“The proof is right here. I can do anything I want with you. And no paper, no person, is gonna stop me from getting what I want.”

If he’s being honest, he didn’t want it to be this way. He wanted to take you in the comfort of a clean bedroom, roses or some girly shit you would’ve liked laid out on the bed. Maybe it would’ve made you giggle at how cheesy it was, and maybe he would’ve responded with a grumbled complaint at his effort, one that would make him turn away and egg you on to coddle him.

His aching heart sinks as your sobs grow in volume, and he hates himself as his dick jumps with your voice. He wants to cut the organ out and fling it by your feet, ask you to put him out of his misery as he begins to conquer what he knows will never truly be his.

Kill me, he whispers to you and himself under his breath as he slams your back on the mahogany desk.

Be mine, he pleads in his mind as he begins rutting into your pink panties.

His mind begins to break as his erection grows tighter and stronger inside of you, thrusting deep inside of you and forcing your body to react in ways you never want it to.

“Yeah? You like that? You like having your bully, oh, sorry, soulmates dick inside you? You fucked up bitch, you thought you could escape me for that long, hah?”

“P-please, please be gentle, f-first time-!” Your voice bounces along with your body as he sits you upright on his bare lap and begins slamming your hips down his cock.

He caresses your nipples, then slaps them as if to slap himself out of his trance. Your body beckons him forward, but he knows it’s all a lie, it’s fabricated, another cruel jest of the universe to tease him into his instincts and not his mind.

Your clit is rubbed mercilessly, cock plunging in and out of you at an inhuman pace as you try to gasp for air. He’s like an animal, pounding inside you and biting everything in his like of vision.

The blond spikes on his head tickle your chin as he puts his body weight on you and prevents you from squirming. Razor sharp teeth trace over your silhouette and sink in the plushiest parts of you, allowing his drool of lust to cool on your skin and make you shiver involuntarily. His hips never stop humping into you like a dog with its toy, and after he’s done making a chew-toy of your body, he leans above you and grasps your chin to look at him. Your face is slippery from all the fluids emitted from this ordeal, but nevertheless he makes it a point to sink his nails into your cheeks when he feels your skin slipping away from him.

“I tried being nice,” he tries growling, but his voice betrays him and catches in his throat at the sight of your tears shining silver in the moonlight. “I wanted it to be special, wanted you to be good for me so I can love you the same.”

It’s a lie, but he’s glad you can’t hear it over the schlicking sounds of his brutal fucking and your wails combined. It’s a lie because, he knows he’ll always love you the same-the same fucked up way that he can’t express except in physical actions that turn more aggressive the more his love surmounts and spirals out of his control.

Love me, he exhales out loud, on top of you on the floor after taking you in every part of the room.

And he hates himself for knowing that you needn’t answer; you don’t have a choice anyways.

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