#katsuki fic

[hitoshiyoshi]

stuck | bakugou katsuki

synopsis ↬ bakugou hates when nerds are better than him OR you get stuck in a closet but bakugou doesn’t feel like helping

warnings ↬ stuckage/kabeshiri, dub/non-con, college au, non-con picture taking, soft bully bakugou(?), bakugou doesn't act like a bully in the beginning but he does later on, the reader's favorite class is biology, the reader is a nerd, i'm sorry if i offend any nerds, the way you get stuck is kinda poorly written and i'm sorry, do not read if you don’t like being in tight spaces, or-l (receiving), f-ngering (receiving), bakugou calls you a lot of names (not nice names), slut-shaming, objectification, swearing, reader is wearing a skirt, leashes (brief), if you get confused at how I describe the scene just look at the header image, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ agedup!bully!bakugou katsuki x fem!nerdy!reader

word count ↬ 3.7k

Carefully carrying your biology class's materials, you strode along the partially empty halls to your destination. Professor Kayama, your biology instructor, asked if you could return them to a storage room in preparation for her next class. Being an exemplary student, you happily agreed — not minding the heavy load of fragile items. You held a large plastic tub of different materials she neatly stacked before handing them to you. Your slow-paced walk seemed to agitate some of your fellow classmates trying to hurry to their next activity, yet you didn't mind.

Entering the large storage area, you place the materials that manage to fit inside your arms on the floor. The room was quite large, filled with all assortments of items used in her class. All of which, you could name without even needing to try. Sticking your nose in science textbooks all day certainly paid off. The chatter of a loud group of students just outside the closed door seemed to distract you from your thoughts, just briefly.

You tried to unlock a door leading to a walk-in closet area, except it seemed to be jammed. This was a usual reoccurrence; Professor Kayama would always complain about the door, saying that it always gave her problems and that bringing this to your university for a fix would amount to nothing. She said, "they're too busy with less important things, i'll teach you how to fix it," and so she did.

It was a sliding door, the type that never swung open for "safety reasons". You tightly grasped the handle, pulling the door in the opposite direction while pressing all your strength against it. Finally, the door seemed to magically become smooth on its hinges and glided open with ease. Professor Kayama warned you never to suddenly push against the door with too much force at once as it would make the gears loose and jam it once again. So far, you've managed to survive the faulty door and any mishaps but you knew that you would eventually encounter some problems.

You pick up the plastic tub and enter the room, quickly arranging each object in its correct location. Of course, this wasn't your only duty for the day; Professor Kayama requested that you also tidy any materials that seemed out of place as she needed to leave campus early.

Again, you didn't mind. In fact, you seemed to enjoy knowing that you were her most-trusted pupil. The favorite of the class and the clear spark for envy from the other students. Always scoring the highest out of everyone in your class. Seated in the front during her lectures with your pen and paper ready to take notes while most students couldn't focus or snoozed off in the middle of class. You were the role model for them all to follow, and yet they could never match your pace.

Of course, with all of this attention, you attracted one jealous follower. A boy in your class with a name you were too busy to remember. It started with a "B", that was the only part you decided to memorize. You weren't interested in trying to become 'buddies' with people you wouldn't see again in four years. He always sat at the back of the lecture hall, too enamored with his friends to pay attention. You could vividly recall during one class hearing the obnoxious laughter of a friend he affectionately called, "dunce-face". The cacophony of their voices disrupted the entire lesson, irritating both you and Professor Kayama. You only noticed him because of his performance after every exam, project, and quiz.

The blonde would always try to outperform you. Yet, for the first time in his life, you made him experience failure.

Always coming in a distant second place to you; a sharp contrast to his perfect scores in every other class he took, passing them all with flying colors. You couldn't fathom how he did so well in a class he seemed to show no interest in.

His group of friends certainly weren't the brightest. The annoying one in your class failed nearly every test he took. While the rest weren't focused, instead finding ways to get a freshman's number so they could get their dicks wet. You concluded that he simply cheated on his exams. You were wrong. The notes for all his classes were extensive and thorough. He did whatever he could to ensure his throne was at the top of every class; the only thing more unbearable than last place was second.

His attempt at going above you only led to more shortcomings. Studying all night for a quiz that he ended up sleeping through was unfortunate, but he could get over it. Until he learned that you received another perfect score. Professor Kayama felt bad for him, she couldn't do much except arrange a tutoring session with you as his instructor. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need your pity.

You weren't elated with Professor Kayama's request for you to tutor him, yet you couldn't reject your favorite teacher. You approached him after class a few months ago, plastering your biggest and brightest fake smile. Waving your hand, a little too cheerful and innocent for his liking, and uttering words that made his hatred for you stronger: "I know this class is difficult, so would you like my help? I'm always free if you have any questions, we can be study partners! So, what do you say?"

God, your sweet tooth-rotting voice made him nauseous. You had to be faking it; that professor was watching over you like a hawk. You didn't know how humiliating it was for him. He had so much he wanted to say; resentful sentiments that would leave you beneath him with tears streaming out of your puffy eyes. The perfect view.

As you stood in front of him with your hand outstretched and waiting for his acceptance, his rage surged. You watched as his blood rushed to his reddening cheeks and ears, somewhat intimidated by his strange reaction. Infuriated with your weak attempt at challenging him, the blonde kissed his teeth and stormed out of the classroom. His gaze lingered on you for months following that interaction.

Until his deep ruby eyes caught you entering the storage room, running errands like a mule for your professors.

"Oi, Bakugou!" Yelled his red-haired friend standing across him in the hallway, "Are you listening?" Upon seeing the blonde nod, he continued. "So, you comin' to Mina's party?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," He said while running his fingers over the scruff of his neck. Kirishima named a list of girls attending like an elementary student reciting the alphabet, he's surprised he remembers each one. Momo, Uraraka, Yui... He recognized some, they were his frequent calls whenever he needed a quick fuck.

"—that girl in our english class," Kirishima peers up, trying to think once again before a lightbulb flickers in his head. "Denki tried with the smart girl in bio... fuck, I forgot her name... (Y/N) or something like that..."

"Who..?" He wasn't even sure why he bothered asking when he heard correctly the first time.

"That nerdy chick, always at the front in class,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but he said she's frigid... said no to his face before he could convince her. Too bad, she sounds like my type," Kirishima snickers under his breath as the blonde stays still.

By now, you've finished cleaning up most of the equipment and returned each of them to their assigned locations. Despite all of your years around fragile science materials, you seem to forget some essential points about safety. You can hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps outside the closed door. Where have you heard them before? You only peeked away for a second; unfortunately, one second is enough time for an accident to happen.

Hitting your shin on the leg of a nearby desk before tripping over your feet, you fall on your knees and tummy — landing in the cramped walkway with the top half of your body inside the closet. You didn't have enough time to register the shockwave of pain through your legs. The closet's sliding door barrels down and pins you by the waist. Locking your body in place and wedging you right against the door frame. Fuck, it sounded like a cliché from a video on the Hub, which made it more embarrassing.

You try to move and twist your waist but to no avail. You reach your nearest hand to the door and push, yet it 'conveniently' seems jammed in place. For what feels like an eternity, you try desperately to move your body in any way that you can. You make some progress by managing to kneel on the hard tiles, yet the pain from falling prevents you from standing upright. Maybe you sprained something? You don't know, but you need to get out of here fast.

The last thing you want is to be a burden, but in reality, you should be concerned with someone thinking you're an idiot for falling like this. With few choices, you decide to call for help, "help..! somebody..! please, i need help!"

You should have been suspicious when you heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute hadn't even passed. It closes softly, and the faint sound of the lock fills the empty air. Asking if someone was there only led to more silence. The ground trembles like some desks have moved out of the way; obviously, someone was inside.

"Oh gosh, thank you..! I'm so clumsy, I don't know how this happened..." You continue rambling on, thinking they're clearing away to make space and rescue you. When they don't respond, you crane your neck behind only to see the disgruntled blonde — whose name you can't bother remembering — standing over you through the gap in the closet door. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I don't know your name..."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Yet, he seems to grimace at your unnecessary comment. He menacingly looms over your body, making you too anxious and scared to look away.

"S- Sorry if I'm being a burden, but as you can see—" You say while trying to wiggle and show that you can't move but unintentionally show off your bum. "—I'm a little stuck, can you help me?"

"Why should I?" He says with an unwavering expression. He's dead serious. Piercing down at you beneath him while bubbling with excitement, he's won the jackpot.

"Uh... well, I'm hurt really bad. I can't get up on my own," That's unfortunate.

The whole situation was simply comical; he wanted to burst out laughing so bad, so that's what he did. His resounding yet obnoxious voice traveled through every wall of the room. This had to be a joke. There was no way that you of all the people he knew could end up in a situation like this. His cheeky grin only left you confused, clutching his belly as if he'd been injured.

"I know this might seem funny to you, but it's not. Please don't laugh..."

"But it is," He said, finally calming down and catching his breath. "I'm finding it hard to believe the teacher's pet could end up like this. Don’t tell me you’re a dumbass,"

"If you won't help me, will you just find someone else?" You turn your head around, letting your guard down for a moment. When will you learn to stop doing that?

"Why? Don't like me?" The feeling of his foot pushing into your lower back startles you. You aren't given much time to react before it's forcefully arched lower into an uncomfortable position, giving him a full view of your ass.

"H- Hey..! Cut that out..!" Your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing your cotton panties to his mischievous eyes. Greedy hands feel up your soft bum before giving it a tap.

"Wish I could help, but I don't feel like it," He says after finishing his touches. Staring off into the distance, acting as if he'd been genuinely contemplating whether or not to aid you.

"What..?" He eases his foot off your back and chooses to squat behind you. His hands caress your hips before lifting your skirt upwards, exposing your clothed heat.

"Sorry, love, you just look so pretty beneath me," He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your panties, chuckling to himself once he sees you struggle in his hands. Completely unfazed. "It's Bakugou... Katsuki, my name,"

Bakugou. Bakugou.

The surname rings a bell, it sounds so familiar. How could you forget? Your meager interactions with him flood back in your mind, but it's too late to remedy and make amends.

Tugging your panties past your cheeks, Bakugou left you uncovered as his hands freely roamed. He cupped each mound of flesh in his hands, spreading them apart and watching your folds glisten. His thumb runs along your labia, making your body shudder at the foreign sensation. Trying to ask him questions proved pointless; instead, the blonde whispered under his breath about you being desperate “like a bitch in heat”. Partially in disbelief at the sight of your slick as you rubbed your thighs together; you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

Circling his fingers over your clit and massaging your nub, your teeth sink into your lip to hold back moans. His fingers are skilled, he's done this plenty of times with other girls in the past. Yet, the way that he touches hints that he wants to go slow. Take his time and enjoy it as if you were his first. Smirking at your glistening heat as if to prove to his corrupted mind that his actions were justified.

To him, you were a conquest. The trophy on his display case that would become the envy of all his friends.

"W- Wait... Please don't—... do that..!" You want to sound strong, yet your voice is in the same sweet intonation.

Bakugou doesn't take you seriously, not when constant mewls float out of your lips and into his ears. Instead, saying he'll stop when he's finished in a tone that causes your heart to race with panic. You feel something warm and icky suddenly touching your heat; using his thumb, he spreads it across your folds while mumbling about "getting you ready". You don't even bother asking, succumbing to his lustful desires.

Maybe this is all he'll do. Feel you up and then help you when he's done, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

His flat tongue takes a slow lap at your warmth as your hips wiggle again in his hold. Using both hands, Bakugou pins you still by your waist and lower back — holding you tight until you can't struggle. His grip is too strong, fingernails scratching into your skin. You don't stand a chance. He forces your back to arch more, releasing a hum of approval at your compliance. Kirishima said you were frigid, but now you've got him second-guessing.

His tongue darts across your clit with ease; gliding over your sensitive bud as your walls flutter. Teasing your sex just right, only taking Bakugou a few minutes to guess the spots that would drive you insane. The same insanity he was plagued with whenever he was around your presence. You tried using your legs to kick at the blonde, toes curling in your shoes. He swears into your pussy in frustration, why can't you just stay still? The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure through as you moan in response, "nngh... d- don't i... i can't...ahh~"

One of your kicks nearly strikes him in the chest with full force. Your last attempt at fleeing once an intense pain surges through your leg. He simply finds it humorous again, the thought of you overpowering him. Bakugou moves one of his hands to your leg, pinning it to the tile flooring. Still determined, he continues his assault on your now swollen clit. Attached to your pussy and coaxing out your clear essence onto his tongue. Savoring your taste on his tongue, moving his head downwards, and giving you one final kiss on your clit.

You wince, feeling his thick middle finger sink inside your sopping entrance. Bakugou's thumb extends over the hood of your clit, soon covering both fingers in slick. Peaking through the gap, he sees your figure, biting on your fingers but failing to hide your whimpers — he can't wait to get out of this stuffy room — praying that you cum soon so he can see your face of pure bliss afterward.

Kirishima always said he preferred inexperienced girls. Always seemed to get attached easily with a few words of affection. Made good fucks for a quickie; send them a teddy bear, say you're sorry if you hurt them, and they'll be at your beck and call.

The familiar high pitch in your voice is something he hears too often, fully knowing what happens next. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already, love?" He taunts while his finger curls over another spot that sends a loud moan through the room. Bakugou's thumb presses deeper against your clit, smirking at your frequent pulsating walls.

"N- No..! I'm not...!"

"Hm, you're not? You're drippin' down here babe. Squeezin' me too. Was hoping you'd save some for my cock instead." His... what? You twist around, trying to stop him by reaching out but he grabs your hand instead. Stopping you from turning around and inspecting you like his newest toy, he says, "Ah, that's the pretty face I missed,"

Another digit enters you with ease, quivering against him and sucking him further with every graze against your g-spot. The familiar pooling of warmth below your stomach was hard to ignore. "should've known you were a slut when I saw your cute little pussy, only dumb sluts get wet like that," The boost of confidence he received once feeling your spasming walls was immense, clenching around him with every degrading word.

He slows, but not to a complete stop. "kats!—..." you whine in frustration, quickly pressing your lips together afterward. It surprises you as much as it does him. Not understanding why, after all this time, you wanted him more than ever. He edged you closer and closer, his fingertips kissing your cervix.

"Beg me," He said, yet you fought your lips to stay still, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. "Ah, teacher's pet thinks she's better than me, huh?" Bakugou's heavy hand suddenly connected with your bum, making you yelp at the stinging pain, "You know, I've got all day..."

"Please," You said weakly. Not good enough.

"C'mon, you can do better. Don't you wanna cum on my fingers..?" He spoke in a condescending tone, caressing the spot on your ass where he hit.

Fuck it, your head was far too gone. "please, katsu— i need... i wanna cum so bad..." Close, but not yet.

"Can't hear you, babe," His hand moves to tap against your clit, making you shudder with every hit. "Be a good little bitch for me, speak up..."

"Fu—Fuck... Katsu... please make me cum..! Need you... bad, lemme cum on your fingers— please..!

He smirked to himself, not entirely pleased but you'll learn — you're such an obedient student. Continuing with his pace, his thumb rolled across your swollen sex as the blonde watched expectantly. Making you unwind with every curl of his fingers until finally, a wave of pleasure rode over your body. Cum gushed from your entrance and onto Bakugou's fingers as he massaged your spot. Quickly finding himself mesmerized by your trembling thighs and sounds of ecstasy.

Eagerly removing his fingers once you've calmed, helping you ride out your orgasm before licking them clean. He moved to your dripping cunt, happily lapping at whatever sticky essence overflowed until his lips and chin shined under the overhead lights. As you pant and quiver, he gives you some encouraging pats on your bum.

He stands, and you hear the jingle of his belt before seeing his shadow move closer to you. Pushing his brawny arms through the gap, he loops the leather belt around your neck before fastening it. Bakugou gives an experimental tug and forces the strap upwards. The loop is loose enough for you to breathe but tight enough to leave indents.

He uses his strength to push the slider door open; it moves with ease. The old pesky thing was barely jammed, you probably could’ve gotten up on your own if you tried hard enough. Bakugou stares down as you try to move despite your aches and pains. “dummy doesn’t know basic physics, could’ve opened it yourself, bitch,”

Ignoring him, you try to stand but the blonde grasps the strap of his belt and tugs your body downward — making you fall straight on your knees again. Your body has become numb to the pain; when he presses his foot against your back again, you don’t even flinch. Bakugou kisses his teeth, annoyed that you're still whimpering. His belt is too short to stand, so he squats in front of you.

As you try to find comfort by caressing your aches, he pinches one of your cheeks harshly — forcing you to stare up at him, all teary-eyed and disheveled. The quick flash of his smartphone camera blinds your eyes, flashing white before fading.

"What did you do..?" You ask, but he doesn't need to answer. Instead, Bakugou moves his phone away from your face. "Please don't show that to your friends..."

It should've made him guilty. Hearing your desperate voice with puppy eyes begging him. But it only reminded him why he hated you so much, so weak and fragile yet somehow above him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that... I won't," No matter how much of an ass he wanted to be, he could never do that.

You're his personal conquest, the trophy, and the envy of all his friends. Knowing you, you'll probably take your 'goody-two shoes' ass and run to that professor you're close with or someone else he doesn't know. You can't run away yet, he wants to have more fun. Maybe fuck your brains out til' his name is the only thing your dumb ass can remember.

Bakugou stands and decides to bring his phone out once again, this time recording.

"I won't tell a soul, so put on your prettiest face... just for me,"

| ✎ hitoshiyoshi's kinktober masterlist |

#tw:noncon #tw:dubcon #bakugou x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou kinktober #mha kinktober #bakugo smut #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fic #katsuki fic

[gardenofnoah]

until the wheels fall off

summary: you’ve all worked hard to see your dream come to fruition—but nothing can last forever, and there’s poison in the water that runs deeper than you knew. it doesn’t matter what katsuki says—everyone has a limit, and you seem hell bent on finding his.

wc: 11k, crossposted to AO3

tags: band!au, drummer!bkg, denki and shinsou play the guitar, vocalist!reader, reader drinks to cope, absent parent/abandonment, jealousy, smut, hurt/comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (hints at soulmates but no direct mention of it), fluff, anxiety, mentions of vomit, happy ending♡

You don’t know when it started. Part of you believes it’s always been there–as innate as the knowledge of breathing. Loving him was too involuntary to have ever been given a choice at whether you’d be wise in doing it.

You snort at the thought–how cliché.

You watch him from the other end of the bar and your throat burns as the whiskey slips down it. It’s become a nightly ritual for you all, though maybe it shouldn’t–tracking down the dingiest, little hole-in-the-wall bars you can find in the city you’re in for the night. Wake up, drive, showtime, drink time–every night for the last month. You should be grateful that your little quartet has gotten enough recognition in the last few years to be able to pull off a headlining tour, and you are. You’re just–feeling a little hollow, too.

Katsuki is how he always is–indifferent to the women surrounding him, nursing a beer and leaning over to mutter something to Denki over the noise of the cooing and fawning–and something about it makes you burn. You want to believe that you are nostalgic for the time long past, when it was just the four of you, coming up through the underground, trying to make a name for yourselves.

You know that’s not it, though.

You burn because he’s yours, and you feel monumentally foolish at the possessiveness that tears you up on the inside. You fight fire with fire and take another swig, chasing the way your nerves will dull by the time the drink runs empty. There’s no reason for jealousy–these are your fans, the ones you’ve all worked so hard to attract–and yet.

Or maybe it’s because he’s not yours–not really. This band was the joint dream of the two of you–started in your mother’s basement when you were children. Tiny noisemakers that only wanted to play, who grew and learned and realized that what you could do together had the potential to really be something. You pulled in Denki and Shinsou, and then it became what it is now–the up and coming indie band reaching more milestones than you ever thought it would. But the more you reach, the more you feel the need to sink your claws into him–to tether him to you. It strikes you as a little ironic that you’ve worked as hard as you have, only to be the thing that wishes to hold him back.

____________________________________________________________

The first time you were truly recognized was a shock to you all–you had been huddled in the living room of your shitty little apartment–writing, planning, daydreaming–when you got the call from your newly-acquired manager that your last single had been added to the Spotify artists to watch playlist. Denki hooped and hollered, clamoring over Shinsou in his excitement, when you felt the weight of strong arms pulling you back into a broad chest. Katsuki said nothing, just rested his chin on your head while you both watched Denki victimize your poor bandmate, and you found that you cared more for the feeling of the embrace of your childhood best friend than you did the recognition you’d worked so hard for.

It was then that you realized you were well and truly fucked.

____________________________________________________________

Two years later, here you are–nursing a too-strong drink in the corner of a bar you don’t know the name of. Shinsou sits to your right, and watches you watch Katsuki for longer than any friend should. He clears his throat and you jump, having completely forgotten he was there.

“You know,” he starts, leaning in closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the noise, “You could just tell him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as he tips back his own beer. “Sure,” he says, setting it down on the bartop with a soft clink, “and I was born yesterday.”

Stupid, idiot Shinsou, with his too-honed people reading skills, figured out your infatuation with your bandmate far earlier than even you did. He’d kept it between the two of you, and you were grateful for it. Even if he still pestered you about it when the opportunity presented itself.

“I’m just saying–it’s not like the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“You don’t know that,” you say too sharply.

“Oh, please,” he waves a hand, dismissing you and your sudden hostility, “We’re around each other constantly. Whatever shit you guys have going on is damn near suffocating.”

You don’t believe him. It’s always been different with you and Katsuki, because you’ve just always had each other. You quite literally haven’t gone a day without him–your mothers were next door neighbors and close friends, so it was either your house or his, every day. That kind of proximity gave way to a friendship that was, and is still, unlike your other relationships. And when you started writing songs together, that brought you even closer–exchanging pieces of yourselves with each other to create something meaningful to both of you. There was never an opportunity to hide, to withdraw–you had always bared yourselves to one another. For some reason, laying yourself down at his feet made more sense than anything else ever did.

You wave a hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. Shinsou eyes you, and you ignore it, not wanting to hear the lecture about how you’ve had enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him focus on something above your head, and your stomach drops at the grin that spreads across his face.

“Here comes your leash,” he whispers to you, kicking your shin softly under the bar. You don’t have time to retort–a heavy weight against your back cuts you off.

“Fuck are you doin’?” Katuski mutters into your ear, leaning against you, forcing you to brace yourself with a hand against the bar. There’s no heat in his words, but there’s something else–something that makes your chest squeeze when you realize it might be concern.

“Ordering a drink,” you tell him plainly, like there’s no reason he should be asking you that. Nevermind that it’s a little slurred when it comes out of your mouth.

“How many have you had?”

“I–uh. Two.”

He looks at Shinsou for confirmation, who only shakes his head. He lets out a heavy sigh, holding out a hand in front of the bartender, stopping them from setting the drink down.

“No more. We’re leaving.”

He ignores your arguments and all but hauls you off the bar stool, dragging you outside with Denki and Shinsou. You berate him until you step outside–the cold air making you shiver, cutting off your complaints. He throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as he leads you back to the tour bus parked down a few blocks. Your hazy mind tells you to press further into the warmth of his body, but you have enough sense to stop that thought before it becomes an action. You hear his voice in your ear and fight the urge to close your eyes.

“What’s been goin’ on with you?”

The cold is sobering, but not nearly enough to make it easy to have this conversation. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and to speak feels like too much effort, so you manage a little hm? in response, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. You wonder who allowed such an uneven sidewalk to be put here as you stumble over it.

Katuski’s grip on you tightens. You think you hear his teeth crunch together with the way he grits them before relaxing his jaw. You wonder if it’s out of anger, and if he’s been shoving it down for a while.

“Why’ve you been drinking so much?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” you say through a hiccup, and you realize that it’s for the second time tonight. Deny until it’s true, you think. Deny until you believe it, too.

That stops him in his tracks, and you hear Denki and Shinsou stop behind you.

“Go on,” Katuski tells them over his shoulder, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

You watch them walk ahead, whispering lowly to each other. You get the sneaking suspicion that they’re talking about the two of you, and then you laugh a little, because of course they are. Katsuki waits until they’re out of sight, and then turns you–a little abruptly, making your head spin–to face him. You want to shrink from his stare, because he’s never looked at you like this and it stings like a slap.

“Listen, if this is too much for you and you need to stop, we can. M’not gonna to watch you–”

“Kat,” you cut him off, mustering all of your consciousness to speak clearly, “I’m fine. Just had a little too much tonight, that’s all.”

He eyes you, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just tonight. You’ve been doin’ this–”

“I said I’m fine,” you say, and you can’t help the edge in your voice. You pause and suck in a breath, a last ditch effort to compose yourself. Knowing that it might work on anyone else, but not the man who has you by the shoulders right now. You try anyway.

“Really,” you tell him, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist and feeling the muscle strain underneath them. Wondering distantly if he knows that his grip might be bruising. Or you think it would be, if you could feel it. “I promise I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

He holds your gaze for a long while, and you hope he’s not looking too deeply into you. Hope that he could go easy on you, just this once.

“M’gonna be watching you,” he warns, but his voice is soft. You smile at him, and it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’d hope so.”

_______________________________________________________________

There’s something that happens when you’re on stage. You’ve never been able to put it into words. Before you’d all had your taste of the limelight, you were terrified of it–terrified of opening yourself up to a crowd of people, displaying your insides like a sick game of show-and-tell while they looked on. And for a while, it was hard–you leaned on the boys considerably to help you through it.

Now, years later, things are different. You still need your boys–just not in the same way.

Waiting in the wings, you feel it again–the calm that settles over you like a thick blanket. You close your eyes, letting the guitar riffs that Shinsou and Denki play wash over you. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard them play it–the opener is always your favorite part. You feel like you are drifting through a bottomless ocean–just floating, willingly exposed and vulnerable. Your music is just that–ethereal, unsettling. Like you feel yourself getting comfortable but shouldn’t.

You feel the heavy beat begin from Katsuki, and you open your eyes.

From where you stand, you’re able to see the complete profile of him. It never fails to leave you a little breathless–for someone that is always set on a hair trigger, watching him settle into a place of serenity while he plays has always captivated you. The tension he holds so closely leaves him almost entirely– his body moves intuitively, and you think he could play just as well in the dark. You begin your own walk to the front of the stage, mourning the sight at your back. Lamenting that you should’ve made the intro to this song way, way longer.

The crowd lets out a collective cheer at your approach, and it never fails to make you smile. All at once it feels like coming home–the show-and-tell feeling turning into a mutual give and take between you and those in front of you. When you reach for your microphone and begin, it’s less of a performance and more of a conversation–calling in every single person in the audience, and inviting them into the story you’re weaving. It helps that this venue is as beautiful as it is–tall arches and ornate woodwork allow you to slip further into the character you’ve carefully crafted. Something opens inside of you, and you have no qualms about letting it out to roam freely.

Tonight is a good night, and you all feel it. The song wraps up and you turn to face the boys, immediately laughing at the overzealous thumbs up Denki gives you. Shinsou nods at you approvingly, and when you meet Katsuki’s gaze, it nearly knocks you breathless. He’s wide open and you can see it in his face. He holds you there for what feels like forever, and you have to reach back to grab at the microphone stand to steady yourself. He’s seemingly forgiven your trespasses from last night, the look of concern having given way to something approaching adoration. He mouths a small you okay? and you swear you hear it inside your head like he’s right next to you. You grin at him, showing your teeth as you nod your head. He rewards you with that tiny, devastating smirk on that stupid, beautiful face and you turn on your heel, shaking your head to snap out of it.

“Anyway…” you drawl into the mic, pulling the shawl you wear into yourself dramatically and laughing a little at the knowing whistles from the crowd, “how are we doing tonight?”

____________________________________________________________

“What was that?” Denki all but screeches, shaking you by the shoulders as you all walk out of the venue. He’s nearly jumping up and down on the sidewalk in his excitement, and it’s so infectious that you feel it start to move through you, too.

“Dude,“ he says, very serious in his expression, still both grabbing and pushing at you like he can’t contain the feeling inside his body–or even decide what that feeling is– “you were on fuckin’ fire!”

You laugh at that, feeling a little bashful. It was still jarring, even now–when the lights go out, you return to the person you were before. Everything has changed and everything is still the same as it always was. It feels too much like a rough comedown.

“You guys were great,” you say, and you mean it, “I’m only as good as you are.”

“Nah,” Shinsou’s voice comes from behind, trapping a still-bubbling Denki in a headlock to get him off of you, “Denki sucked. Something was different tonight with you.”

Shinsou ignores the indignant hey! from the man in his grasp as he tows him down the street, creating some distance between the two of them and you and Katsuki. You don’t doubt for a second that he’s doing it on purpose. For as sharp-edged and painfully honest as Shinsou might be, he really could be a great wingman.

Like you’ve summoned him with your thoughts, Katsuki’s matching your stride beside you. He pulls your arm toward him, looping it though his own.

“They’re right, you know.”

“Yeah?” you smile up at him, wiggling your eyebrows a little bit. “Gonna sing your praises to me, too?”

His free hand comes up to cover your face, pushing you away from him, despite your arm still looped in his. He lets out the most dramatic noise of disgust you’ve ever heard when you stick your tongue out to lick his palm.

“God, you’re gross,” he shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and you think you’d do it a hundred more times if it meant you could see him like this again.

It’s quiet between you as you walk–comfortably so. You let yourself lean into his side a little bit, just to see if he’ll shove you off–if he thinks you’re messing with him. He doesn’t, so you stay.

“Do you ever worry?” you ask suddenly, shaking yourself from your reverie with a question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to.

“Mm?”

“About, like…the sustainability of this. Like it’s great, of course. It’s awesome that we have this momentum now. But it can’t last forever, right?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel him thinking it over. You keep walking, arm through his, and you focus on the cloud of steam your breath releases into the cold in front of you–suddenly a little nervous to hear his response.

“It probably won’t last forever,” he says, with a confidence that jars you a bit, “but it doesn’t have to.”

He says it with such finality that you’re not sure how to respond. You’re torn from your thoughts when he pulls you to a stop next to him.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, and you meet his gaze. He has that look again from before, except there’s no crowd here to pull you away from it. You have no choice but to surrender to it.

“I’m ridin’ this train til the wheels fall off,” he grins, holding out a pinky to you in a gesture that has something inside you mourning over the days of childhood pinky promises long behind you, “me and you til then, yeah?”

You wrap your pinky around his, smiling softly. “Til the wheels fall off.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s unfortunate, the way you test the strength of that promise weeks later.

You’ve all just wrapped up the last show of the tour, back again in some random, back alley bar. Denki had suggested it and Katsuki had protested, clearly wishing to avoid a repeat of your last few experiences. You’d waved him off, telling him it’d be good to get out one last time. He and Shinsou had exchanged looks, no doubt some silent agreement assigning the purple haired man to babysit you all night. So be it, you’d thought. You’d be fine.

An hour in, you realize that you definitely won’t be fine.

You and Shinsou sit at one end of the bar–he’s drawing diagrams on a napkin, which are supposedly guitar tabs but look to you like a foreign language. All at once you feel an acute sense of anxiety–one you’d been feeling over the length of the tour, that is apparently coming to a head right now.

You flag the bartender down for another drink–straight liquor, your second of the last hour. Shinsou clears his throat next to you.

“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks lowly, trying and failing to catch your eyes.

You wave him off, not bothering with a reply as you take a too-big sip of your now full drink. It doesn’t have the effect that you’d hoped for, and you feel the anxiety climb higher still up your throat.

It’s not clear to you at first why you feel like this–you know tomorrow you will go home and start thinking about new music, the next project, like you always do. But there’s also the sinking feeling that you’ll be alone for the first time in two months.

At some point in the last few years, the four of you had made enough money to find your own living spaces. You’re still close–you all live in the same building–but there are far more walls, literal and metaphorical, that separate you now. The boys all have side gigs and brand deals, things separate from you.

You have this. You have put the entirety of your being into this band, and it is all you have.

There’s part of you that fears the end will come sooner for you than the rest–that the decision to put all of your eggs in this particular basket was the wrong one. Not because you feel any sense of regret, but because there is a part of you that fears the inevitable abandonment, should any of the boys start to feel like they have nothing left to give to you.

Rationally, you know it’s not true. You know that the commitments they have made to you and the band are genuine and strong. You know that Katsuki does not make promises he can’t keep.

But right now, you’re wound up and unpleasantly drunk, and when you turn to your left, you see Katsuki with a woman you’ve never seen before. You don’t look at her face—you don’t care to, because you are so fixated on Katsuki’s. For the first time, he’s not immediately indifferent–he even looks mildly interested, talking low with heads tilted toward one another in a display that looks sickeningly intimate while she shows him something on her phone, and something inside you shatters.

You tip the rest of your drink back, and order another.

“Whoa, hey,” Shinsou’s voice comes from your left, sounding genuinely startled now. “What are you doing?”

You feel the break outwardly, like it’s done its damage on the inside and is now trying to find a way out. Shinsou follows your gaze toward Katsuki’s seat, immediately understanding.

“Stop,” he tells you, in a firmness you haven’t heard before, “You don’t know what that is.”

You shake your head, smiling a little, but it’s sad and broken and stuns Shinsou silent. You throw your full-again drink back with a speed that nearly triggers your gag reflex. You bow your head for a moment, taking a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself. Nevermind the spinning walls around you. It all has to come down sometime.

“What’s it matter?” you ask, a little too loudly, “It wasn’t going to last forever.”

You know that the last drink was a mistake when you nearly topple over yourself trying to get down from the barstool. Shinsou grabs your arm to steady you and you wrench away from him, throwing yourself off balance again. You hear him hiss at you to be careful, and then that people are staring, but it’s too late. It happens slowly, which you find strange–you’re falling and then you’re not, and instead someone has you by your armpits, all but dragging you outside. You don’t realize you’re standing upright until Katsuki is in front of you–glaring down at you, all anger and something far worse–something that looks a lot like disappointment.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits out, and it’s all you can do to stare at him, because everything is still spinning and for as angry as he’s always been, it’s never, ever been pointed at you.

You can’t get your mouth to catch up with your brain, and then it doesn’t matter at all because you realize with startling clarity that you’re going to vomit. You have the wherewithal to lurch into the nearby alley, and it’s a struggle to keep yourself upright–bracing yourself on the slimy, damp brick of the building in front of you while you empty your stomach onto the street.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hear beside you, and everything is fuzzy–you lean your forehead against the wall in front of you, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium. You feel the weight of your hair lift from your neck, but you can’t get your mouth to form a thank you.

It’s another five minutes before you’re confident that your stomach has settled. You push off the wall, slowly, testing out your balance. It’s still shit, as it turns out–Katsuki catches you as you sway a little too far to the right. You feel a little like a scruffed kitten, and that makes you laugh, only it comes out choked because you feel tears coming and there’s no defense left to stop them.

“What is goin’ on with you?” he asks, still incredulous but subdued now, bringing a thumb up to swipe at your tears. He’s soft again in the way that’s familiar to you, and that makes it hard to stop the wobble of your lip or the whimper that punches its way out of your mouth.

“Oi,” he half-barks, now closer to you—letting you lean into his chest to keep you steady. He brings a hand up to hold the back of your head and you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling sick again. Knowing it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Start talkin’,” and you know it’s not a suggestion, and you think that it’s so unfair that he couldn’t wait until morning to ask you this, when you’d certainly be a little more guarded. But he doesn’t, and you think that it’s on purpose, and you know you can’t stop yourself.

“You’re…gonna leave me,” you whimper, and it comes out slurred and broken and so pathetic–you almost wish you were still puking because it would be less mortifying than this, “you all–you’ll all leave and,” you cut yourself off with a stuttered breath, “I’ll be by myself again.”

And you don’t dare look at him right now, so you stand there with your eyes closed, pressing your forehead into his collarbone, praying that the earth opens wide and swallows you whole. It occurs to you a moment later that he’s still holding you there, and he hasn’t said anything. It’s another before you hear him sigh–deeply, like it’s effort, and then your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. He maneuvers you onto his back, ignoring your weak groans of protest.

“You need to hold on,” he tells you over his shoulder.

You try your best to–your arms circle around his neck, but it feels like all of the strength has left your body. He leans forward to compensate, making sure you don’t fall off of him. He starts walking, and your brain catches up enough to realize after a few moments that he’s not walking toward the bus.

“Where’re we going?”

“Hotel down the street,” he grits out, and it’s short in a way that is so wounding it startles the breath out of you. You put your head down on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut tight, pleading with yourself not to start crying again. If he feels the tears soaking into his shirt, he doesn’t say anything, and you suppose you can be grateful for that.

He doesn’t say anything the whole way there. He walks into the lobby with you still on his back, and you look anywhere but the concierge, a little more sober than you were before and wholly embarrassed. Katsuki hauls you up the stairs to the third floor, opens the door and sets you on the bed. He mutters a quick don’t move and promptly turns, walking away from you and out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of him walking away seems horrifically amplified–the sound of his footsteps reverberating inside your skull until they fade away. If there was ever a time to feel alone, it’s right now, and you can’t fight the fresh wave of tears that crests so suddenly that it’s startling, even if you knew it was coming. All at once you are 6 years old again, crying for a man that walks away and does not come back.

____________________________________________________________

When Katsuki opens the door again, it startles you awake. You have no idea how much time has passed–it certainly felt like hours. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, it reads 1:45am–so you suppose it couldn’t have been that long. He has a large, plastic grocery bag with him now, and he sets it on the bed next to you, rummaging through it.

“Where’s Denki and Shinsou?” you ask quietly, feeling far too sober and deeply unsettled.

“Took the bus back,” he says matter of factly. He pulls out a sweatshirt and sweatpants that are not yours, and sets them on your lap.

“So–how are we…?”

He pauses, turning his head to look you full in the face. You lean back minutely, needing to pull away from him. The shame comes off you in waves.

“You and I are flying home tomorrow.”

And you say nothing, terribly confused and a little afraid. He sees this on your face and sighs, moving the bag to sit beside you on the bed.

“Whatever this is, the shit you’ve been doing–” he cuts himself off and takes a breath in, like he’s trying to compose himself. He takes in another breath, and tries again.

“Think it’d be good for us to go home for a few days. M’sure my old hag misses you.”

Your mind feels like a thousand puzzle pieces, twisting and sliding past each other. It takes several silent moments before your pieces click, and when they do, the reality is devastating.

He’s taking you home because he can’t deal with this anymore. Because he has nothing left to give you.

“Katsuki,” you choke out, reaching for him across the bed. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his lap and squeezing gently.

“I know,” he murmurs, gently, like he’s trying to placate you, “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

____________________________________________________________

You blink slowly back into consciousness when you hear shuffling somewhere in the room. You turn your head, and the clock reads 9:36AM. You know immediately that Katsuki has been up for hours. You try to raise your head to look for him, and the pain in your skull is so shocking that you gasp, dropping back down into the pillow.

“Here,” Katsuki says from above you, and you crack an eye open to see his palm outstretched, two little tablets tucked inside. You take them gratefully and then grab the glass of water from his other hand, gulping them down without a semblance of grace. The inside of your mouth is gritty and it makes your stomach turn again, despite nothing being in it.

“When are we leaving?” you rasp, not really willing to look at him yet.

“Two hours,” he says, setting a bag on the nightstand next to your head, “there’s breakfast in there, if you want it. You should shower.”

You grimace at that–you don’t think you’ll ever want to eat again. You concede that you probably do stink to death of booze–you sit up, carefully this time, and grab for the sweatset he’d left on the bed last night. It dawns on you that only your side of the bed is disheveled.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

He turns his head to look at you, and the look on his face brings on a new wave of shame that you feel physically. He doesn’t answer–you find that it might be better if you don’t know, because if you did, then you’d know you haven’t asked the right question. You get up without a word and walk into the bathroom, letting the door click shut behind you.

____________________________________________________________

You move through the rest of the morning like a zombie, and you barely register that time has passed at all until you look up and notice that you’re on the airplane. You wonder how you’re even here right now, considering you had none of your things with you when you left the bar last night, but Katsuki has a bag with him that he didn’t before, so you figure he’s got it covered. He’s taken the window seat next to you, and you wonder if it’s because he knows you hate flying. You pull the hood of the sweatshirt that’s not yours up over your head, tightening the strings around your face, not too keen on the chance of anyone recognizing you in this sorry state. The plane begins to move and your breathing picks up, which is embarrassing because of all of the things to make you anxious in the last 24 hours, it feels unnecessary for this to top the list. You try to take in a few deep breaths, and it seems to make the feeling worse. You’re damn near ready to come out of your skin and the plane hasn’t even left the ground yet.

You hear movement next to you–what sounds like plastic clicking together, and then Katsuki has you in his arms–cradling your head into the crook of his neck. The hard underside of the arm rest he’s evidently moved up presses uncomfortably into your side, but you let him hold you because you need it more than anything right now.

“You’re alright,” you feel him press a kiss into the fabric covering your head and it feels so much like grief that you can taste it yourself, “I got you.”

____________________________________________________________

He drops you off in front of your mother’s door in a car that isn’t his a few hours later. You haven’t said a word since before you boarded the plane, and he holds an arm out to stop you from getting out of the car. You turn to look at him, and his face is devoid of almost all emotion. You wonder for whose sake it is that he’s doing that.

“I’ll come over for dinner,” he offers, like it’s a consolation prize. You’d look forward to it if this were any other scenario, but right now it just feels like pity. You shake your head.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” you tell him, and you look down at the arm that’s still extended toward you. He doesn’t move it.

“Oi,” he whispers, prompting you to look at him.

“Til the wheels fall off,” murmured when you do.

You sniff at that, eyes shut tight and nodding sharply because that’s all you can do right now. He squeezes your knee and lets you go.

When you get out of the car, you realize that it’s been a while since you stood on your own.

____________________________________________________________

The reunion with your mother brings fresh tears and hugs that you didn’t realize you missed as badly as you did. She all but drags you inside, shoving you into a seat at the kitchen table. You realize that she knew you were coming, and you wonder if she knows why.

After a moment, she sets a mug of tea down in front of you and takes a seat across from you. You close your eyes and breathe in the aromatic steam, suddenly feeling incredibly homesick despite literally sitting in it. You open your eyes when you feel her hand circle around yours.

“My baby,” she says softly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, “what’s going on?”

“Oh, mom,” you choke out, pulling away to drop your face into your hands. You hear her drag her chair closer to yours, pulling you into her arms when she’s close enough. She pulls your hood down to run her fingers through your hair, gently cooing to you until your sobs turn into quiet sniffles.

“I don’t know where to start,” you rasp after a moment, sitting up and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. She keeps the proximity, running a hand up and down your back.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

____________________________________________________________

It’s hard to talk about it with your mother. You are terrified of the disappointment–by all accounts it would definitely seem that you deserve it, but it doesn’t come. She sits next to you, rubbing your back and fussing over hairs that hang in your face while you spill your guts onto the table: the fear, the abandonment, the numbing that took it all away until it didn’t. The loneliness that cuts you deeper than you ever thought it could.

“What about our boys?” she asks then, and you smile a little at the way she says it. You know that she loves them as much as you do, which is a funny sight to see–three intimidatingly large, tattooed men huddled around mugs of tea, sitting at your mother’s table. She fawns over them every time you all come around, and it warms you from the inside.

“They’re fine–they’re there, it’s just… I don’t know. I think I’m afraid that one day they might not be, and I don’t know why.”

She looks at you for a moment, like she’s considering her next words.

“I think you might know why, honey.”

You look back at her then, knowing what she’ll say before she says it. Unwilling to say it first.

“It’s hard to trust the word of a man when the one who was supposed to always be there left so suddenly.”

You stare down at your tea, not feeling what you thought you would. Mostly, you know she’s right. You can’t trust yourself to speak yet, so you don’t.

“I can’t know what that was like for you,” she starts softly, hand dropping to squeeze at your knee. Your heart constricts at the way it feels familiar. “And I’m so sorry that it’s something you have to carry with you. But honey, there’s a man next door who’s never known a life without you, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of changing that.”

Your throat gets tight and you lean into her shoulder, needing to feel grounded. The room feels like it’s spinning again.

“And of course he can’t replace your father,” she continues, leaning back into you, “but he’s someone that loves you. And that’s something worth keeping around.”

“He was with someone else last night,” you deflect, trying to convince yourself of some falsehood in your mother’s words, “at the bar. I saw them talking together.”

Your mother snorts, loud and obnoxious, like you’ve just told the world’s most ridiculous joke. Despite yourself, you laugh a little, too.

“Mom!”

“Oh, honey,” still chuckling to herself, “I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes we see what we want to see,” she continues, patting your leg, “but you know Kat. And from what I can tell, he’s never had eyes for anyone but you.”

“That’s silly,” you say, still deflecting but knowing that she’s telling the truth. And then, “I think he’s really mad at me.”

“I don’t think he is. He sounded really worried last night.”

You balk at that. “You talked to him?”

“He called to tell me you’d be coming.”

And you’re silent then, because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know if there’s anything you can say. Suddenly you are very, very tired.

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” your mother starts, grabbing the now empty mug from in front of you and walking it to the sink, “Get some sleep–I made your bed up for you. You should talk to him tomorrow.”

You nod, though she can’t see it, and you move to walk up the stairs, but stop short of the first step.

“I love you, mom.”

She turns to give you a soft smile. “I love you, my baby.”

____________________________________________________________

The dream is recurrent–you’ve tried hard to find the meaning of it, but you’re starting to come around to the idea that it might just be a comfort to your subconscious.

You’re five years old, and you don’t yet notice the bad thing that lurks on the edges of your peripheral.

You’re five years old, and everything is as it should be.

You and Katsuki construct a fort out of old sheets and couch cushions. Snow falls outside–the wind sneaks through the shutters and shrieks something menacing. But it’s warm inside, and you’re with Katsuki. You are unafraid.

He has a slight hot chocolate mustache and the tip of his tongue pokes out between the gap in his teeth, all of his focus on weaving the sheets together to create the walls of your fortress. You preoccupy yourself with the decor–you pick up a pillow and put it somewhere else, grab your mother’s potted plant and bring it in, even though it takes up too much space.

Katsuki finishes the skeleton of the structure in no time, and he joins you on the same cushion, despite you bringing in nearly every cushion in the house. You both dig into the coloring books your mother left out for you, and in no time you’ve grown bored of them–you opt to doodle on each other instead.

You draw something resembling a heart over the first joint in his thumb–a little oblong and colored outside your shaky lines. He watches you while you do it–the seeds of something old rooting into something else that he is far too young to understand. You look up at him when it’s finished and you beam, all crooked baby teeth and giggles. He goes bright red and shoves at you, shrieking about how it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He can do much better, he says, so he grabs your thumb and proves it to you.

It’s certainly not any better–you don’t tell him that, though. You just smile and flex your thumb, watching it move with your skin. He puts an arrow through his–bold and cartoonish, like the old animation of Cupid’s arrow. It tickles when the marker passes over the edge of your palm, and he barks at you to stop squirming.

Your mother comes in with snacks and finds the two of you covered in marker. She doesn’t yell–she just shakes her head, laughing and looking at the two of you with an expression only to be interpreted as a soft fondness. She pulls out her camera to take a picture–makes the two of you hold hands to capture the hearts you drew.

Whether it’s the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning, you can’t be sure.

____________________________________________________________

You wake up feeling more rested than you did before, and without a hangover, for the first time in a while.

Once you’re dressed, you take a few bites from the breakfast sandwich your mother has laid out for you, and you walk out the side door, walking the few steps to Katsuki’s mother’s porch. The morning sun on your skin feels good–it’s a warmth you know you needed. You reach for the door, but you stop in your tracks when you hear his voice on the other side of it.

“I don’t know how t’make it better, ma,” he says, and it wounds you in a way you weren’t expecting, “I just want to help and I don’t know how.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then his mother speaks. “It’s not yours to make better, Katsuki. There were terrible things that happened when you both were growing up that certainly don’t help what’s happening now.

“All you can do is be there–be a safe person to turn to,” she continues, and it’s all you can do not to sniff and give yourself away, “Things will change. It takes time.”

“I don’t care about that shit,” he grits out, but there’s no hostility in it, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, I’ll be there. S’just–hard. To watch.”

You’re not sure you can stand to listen anymore, so you make a big production out of opening the door, making sure to alert them both to your presence. You walk into his mother’s kitchen–it’s been years since you’ve been here, and yet you’d know the layout with your eyes closed.

“Ah, my other child,” she says, standing to hug you. She kisses your cheek and shoves you down in the seat she’s just gotten up from. “You sit. I’ll make myself scarce.”

You ease into the seat awkwardly, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze. It’s quiet between you. You have no idea where to start, so you pick at the edge of the table cloth in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks softly, like if he’s too loud, it’ll bruise you. You hate it. You feel your face heat and you know you’re going to cry and you hate that too.

You summon all of your bravery and give him a watery, pathetic little smile. “No, I’m not.”

His brows furrow and he leans forward, like he wants to reach for you but stops himself. Thinks better of it. You’re almost fascinated by how hard it is for you to tell him the truth right now. You do it anyway.

“I’m—there’s a lot that I need to work through. More than I thought, evidently,” you laugh a little, and it’s all self-deprecating. You pick at a hangnail. “That’s not an excuse for what I’ve been doing, I know that. I just—“

You suck in a breath, quickly losing your resolve. Needing to lean on him one more time.

“I’m really sorry, Kat,” you choke out, finally looking up at him. Whatever he sees on your face has him out of his seat in an instant and pulling you out of yours in the next, crushing you to his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline.

“I know I’m not good right now,” you say into his shirt through shuddering breaths, “I just, I’m really sorry, I don’t want you to worry–”

He moves you back to look at your face, which makes you grimace because it is almost certainly pathetic and snot covered.

“Hey,” he rasps, with far more emotion than you were anticipating, “none of that. I know. And m’always going to worry about you, you little idiot.”

You choke out a laugh at that and it softens him. He pulls you back to his chest and you feel his kiss to the top of your head.

“M’not leaving you,” he whispers into your hair, “not ever. Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.”

You want to apologize again but you know he’ll wave you off, so you just press your face further into his chest and nod.

You stand there for a while, wrapped up in him in his mother’s kitchen, before he reaches into his back pocket to grab something. He offers it to you, and it takes a second before you realize it’s your phone.

“Let dumb and dumber know you’re alive,” he says, arms still wrapped around you, “they were worried.”

You smile at that, feeling an overwhelming fondness for the men in your life. You keep an arm around Katsuki and shoot them a text with the other: i’m home and alive. love u both, talk soon. You barely have it back in your pocket before it vibrates, several times in succession, alerting you to what is almost certainly a very animated response from Denki. You realize in that moment how much you miss him.

“Stay here tonight,” Katsuki murmurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think back to all of the nights that you camped out in his backyard as children, with him promising to keep you safe, in his own jagged, self-inflated way. You think about how everything has changed, and everything has stayed the same.

It’s an easy yes.

____________________________________________________________

You go back and forth between houses for the next week. He gives you a little space during the day–time with your mom, time to yourself. You write some, but mostly you focus on being present. You try to stop the daydreams as they come–try to keep yourself from yearning for a different future, or ruminating on the past, so you can see where you are now. It’s easier said than done, but it’s less difficult in the evenings, when Katsuki returns and your mind quiets all other thoughts but those of him.

Freshly showered and towel clad, you’re laid across your childhood twin bed when you hear the screen door open and then close, and your heart picks up when you hear your mother greet him.

He makes it up the stairs quicker than you thought he would. You let your eyes rake over him, realizing that it’s been a while since you could really get a good look at him. He has old sweats on and he’s leaned up against your doorframe, regarding you with the same level of scrutiny, arms folded over his chest. He’s so beautiful it makes you ache.

Your eyes drift to his hands–each tucked underneath the opposite armpit– and you catch a glimpse of the thing you will always seek out: the red, misshapen curve of the heart you drew on him, etched into his skin forever. You lift your own hand up, holding it above your head to examine it. It’s there, on the first joint of your thumb like you knew it would be. The arrow has faded and blurred with time, but you turn your hand and find it still pointing straight at your heart.

You’d gotten them together, shortly after making the decision to start the band– an ode to the history behind you. But the meaning has shifted in the years since–you wonder if he feels it, too. The quiet nostalgia of the moment has your head swimming a little bit, and you don’t have it in you to stop the words that come out of your mouth.

“I love you.”

His mouth ticks up at the corner, but he doesn’t move. “I know that.”

You sit up–slowly, making sure the towel stays put–and meet his eyes. “Do you?”

He says nothing–just gestures for you to come closer with the tilt of his chin.

You push yourself up off the bed and walk toward him–awfully, awkwardly aware of your own gait–until you’re chest to chest. He unfolds his arms and reaches up to pluck the towel off your head, flinging it to the floor behind you. You squawk at him, scrambling to brush the hair that falls in your face away. He just grins, reaching to brush a few stray strands out of the way himself. The pad of his thumb lingers on your cheekbone, trailing down to brush across the plush of your bottom lip, until it settles at your chin. He grabs you there and tilts your face up to him.

“Ruined me for anyone else the day y’were born,” he breathes, and it’s so nonchalant you’d think it was just a passing thought for him, like it doesn’t shake something fundamental and ancient inside of you, “Loved you every day since.”

“You never told me,” you say, and it’s hushed–you bring both hands up to splay them across his chest, the image of his heart above the one that beats. You feel its pace pick up beneath your fingers.

“No,” he says, running his thumb around the edge of your jaw, “was waitin’ for you to see it.”

You hum a little, turning your face into his touch–nuzzling into the place where you’ve marked him forever. “And now?”

He lets his fingers drift downward, finding a new home wrapped around the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh, and he looks pleased.

“I want to show you.”

You smile, tilting your head back to look at him fully. “Okay.”

He drops his head down until his face hovers above yours, and he tilts a little so your foreheads bump together. Both of you stay there, content to breathe and just feel, until you push up, needing more of him. He lets you brush your lips over his, savoring the soft press of your mouth, keeping you still with the hand on your neck. You do this until you both start to lose your patience, and you kiss him with more force–you hope that it does a better job of translating your feelings than you have. He’s warm and much softer than you expected, and he takes over all of your senses. There’s something both very old and novel in the way he kisses you, and behind your eyes you see a reel of the two of you, from figuring out how to walk with wobbly baby legs, to creating something far larger than the two of you–all together. It brings the sting of tears to the surface when you break apart to breathe. He kisses a stray droplet away, cradling your face in his hands.

“My little crybaby,” he coos, and you punch at his side lightly, making him chuckle.

“You’re mine, Katsuki,” you tell him, grimacing a little bit at the memory of him and that random woman at the bar. You know you are being out of your mind insane right now, but the jealousy still coils in your gut.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “‘Course I am.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on him. “I need you to tell me.”

He presses his forehead to yours, walking you back until the backs of your knees tap your mattress. You sit, and he stands between your legs, eyes looking way, way too far into you. His hand comes up to hold your face, and the way you lean into it feels like muscle memory.

“There’s nobody for me but you,” he says, and you feel like if you blink you’ll miss something important in the way he’s looking at you, “M’yours. Always was. Always will be.”

And it’s then that you decide to do something so stupidly embarrassing that you regret it almost immediately: you hold your pinky out to him.

He blinks down at you for a second before a slow smile stretches across his face. It’s one of the most genuine you’ve ever seen on him, and when he wraps his pinky around yours and brings it to his lips, you think for the second time that you are well and truly fucked. You always would be when it came to Katsuki. But he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

You let out a little laugh, one that’s more incredulous than anything. “I feel out of my mind,” you tell him, leaning forward to press your face into his stomach, “do you think it always feels like this?”

“Dunno,” he says through his grin, scratching gently over your scalp, “Maybe. There’re plenty of songs about it.”

He leads you down to the bed and you go willingly, pliant against him as he settles in next to you. It’s a tight fit, especially with the way he takes up the majority of the space with his broad shoulders. You find that you don’t mind too much.

You lay your head on his chest and his arm wraps around you, fingertips brushing over your spine and dipping below the top of your towel to rub at the skin it squeezes.

“I love you,” you whisper, and you find that now that you’ve said it, you’d like to scream it from the highest peak you can find.

“I love you,” he returns, and you can’t get enough of the way it rumbles through his chest underneath you.

“Tell me again,” you tell him, twisting to look up at him. He shifts then, rolling you onto your back and hovering above you, propped up on one elbow. His fingers card through the hair just past your temple and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

“I love you,” he says, bending to press a kiss to your lips.

____________________________________________________________

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up it’s not yet dawn, and you are tucked into Katsuki’s armpit as he hangs halfway off the bed. It makes you smile, and it also makes you grateful that he didn’t turn over and take you off the bed with him. You shift, and realize you’re still wrapped in your towel. You look at his sleeping form, and then down at your towel again. It takes another moment of deliberation before you think, fuck it, and rip the thing off of you, dropping it onto the floor.

You finally settle back down into the bed and startle when you feel fingertips brush over your spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning toward him to press a kiss to his jaw, “did I wake you up?”

He hums, low and gravelly in his chest, and it makes you feel far too warm as he pulls you to his chest. He’d gotten rid of his sweatshirt at some point in the night—you realize now that you’re chest to chest. He notices at about the same time, head snapping up off the pillow to look at you. You feel your face heat.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep with the towel on and didn’t want to get up, I can put something on—“

“Like hell you will,” he cuts you off, arm tightening behind you. “Feels nice.”

And it makes you smile, because it does feel nice.

He curls his body around you, leaning down to smother the side of your face in kisses. It makes you shriek, shoving at him playfully.

“Gross, stop it,” you groan, not making any real attempt to get him off of you.

“Fuck no,” he grins, kissing you again, “You’re so beautiful.”

Hearing it from Katsuki does something to you—settles the part of you that worries that you’re not enough to keep him here. It seems silly then, to keep hiding from him—to keep pieces of yourself from him in the hopes that he’ll stay long enough to try to find them. You want him to see you. You feel particularly brave and roll over onto your back, watching his eyes widen at the way you are laid completely bare for him.

He lets out a long, low breath, and you feel it when it brushes over your chest—nipples pebbling in the cold air.

He props himself up for a better view, unashamed in the way he studies you so intensely, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.

He reaches for you then—you close your eyes when his fingertips brush over your brow bone, content to feel the way he explores. Time moves slowly, and he takes advantage of every second that stretches before him—he’s fixated on the juncture of your jaw and your throat, and you burn under his touch. You let out a shaky exhale at the graze of his fingers down the center of your throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, except he’s far closer now, and you only have a second for this to register before the warmth of his hand wraps around the side of your neck to hold you there while his mouth explores the other. He’s still soft—far softer than you would ever expect him to be, all soft lips and warm, sweeping tongue—and it’s such a shock to all of your senses that you can’t help but let out a broken little whimper of his name.

He pulls back when he hears it, and you turn your head to argue but something in his face makes you pause.

If you thought you had a window into Katsuki’s soul before, this moment is the one to knock the whole house down. You hear it like he’s whispered it to you: I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Kat, I—“

He cuts you off with a kiss that brings tears to your eyes—soft but firm, as claiming as it is chaste. “I know sweetheart,” he whispers, forehead to yours. In the dark, you’re sure he’s brighter than the sun right now. You roll to your side, chest to chest again, and kiss him just because you can—because you love him and it would feel like torture to do anything else.

He presses kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, and down the stretch of your throat—you shiver when his tongue laves at the point where your shoulder meets it. He finds your hand and drags it to his lips, mouth trailing over every inch of arm he can reach. Making sure to press a kiss to his heart on your hand.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says plainly against your wrist, shocking a laugh out of you, “not gonna put your mom through that. I jus’ wanna feel you.”

“A little presumptuous, but okay,” you tease, but it only comes out breathless when his fingers trail over your collarbone and down your breast, apparently content to test the validity of your statement.

He leaves a trail of heat with his touch that makes it hard to keep your eyes open, but you can’t bear to miss the way he pulls pleasure from you with the smallest effort. He learns your body with no agenda—he truly just wants to feel you, but it doesn’t stop you from squirming at the way his fingers brush over your nipples.

It makes him grin, but he doesn’t stop—he just moves on, thumb grazing the skin under your breast, down to the soft of your belly. He lets out a low moan when he feels you there—you don’t think he even knows he did it and it makes you squeeze your thighs together and turn your face into the pillow, fighting like hell to compose yourself.

You feel his calloused palm smooth over the curve of your hip and down to your knee. His fingers curve around the back of it, pulling it up and over his hip. Air brushes over your now exposed sex and your mouth drops open with a whine, far more sensitive than you were anticipating.

“Katsuki, I can’t, I—“

He shushes you with a brush of his lips over yours—sweet and far more innocent than you would prefer.

“Please touch me,” you whimper against his mouth, and you feel the slow grin spread across his face.

“You gonna be quiet?”

You nod like your life depends on it, and he chuckles, a little dark in a way that has your stomach churning.

He pulls back a little to watch your face as he brushes the backs of his knuckles over your slit. It pulls a moan from both of you, and you can’t look away from him as he brings his hand to his face, swiping his tongue over every knuckle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, like it’s suddenly too much for him. Like he needs to ground himself to keep from taking from you like he wants to.

His hand slips down between you again, cupping you firmly, and your whole body bucks. You lean forward to hide your face in his neck, unable to keep from dragging your aching clit over the heel of his palm.

“There y’go,” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the skin just below it, “does that feel good?”

You bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out after a particularly intense shock of pleasure shoots up your spine. Your fingers grab at anything you can reach—you wrap them around the side of his neck, both to ground you and for leverage, and he rewards you with the most sinful groan you’ve ever heard, right into your ear.

“I-I need,” you gasp, trying to form a sentence in between the half-frantic snap of your hips, “inside, Kat, please—“

You nearly come out of your skin when he raises his middle finger slightly, the motion of your hips working to push him in, in, in, fitting to you better than you could’ve dreamed of. He’s no better off than you are—mouth open and panting against your neck, and the knowledge that he’s getting off on this has you fucking yourself onto his hand with an almost violent pace.

He presses against you harder, pushing his finger deeper, and you jam your face further into his shoulder, praying like hell it muffles the noise you’re making.

“Need you to cum,” he gasps, nearly pleading, “need t’feel you—“

And you didn’t need the prompting, but the way he pleads sends you over the edge anyway—your entire body seizing as you clamp down hard on his finger. You vaguely register his voice over the ringing in your ears as time slows again—seconds turn to hours that you’re trapped here, every tiny brush of his palm against your clit sending shocks of pleasure that rip through you like waves. It feels like forever before he’s calling you back to him—soft, breathy murmurs of your name against your skin, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck to hold you to his chest.

It’s quiet between you, then—each of your stuttered breaths and your own pulse in your ears cutting through the silence. He stays inside you because he can, and you have no qualms about it.

“Well. Fuck,” you murmur against his skin, pulling a laugh from him that would have you kicking your feet if you could muster the energy to do it.

He presses kisses to your hairline, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into them. You feel him slip from inside of you and it feels like a loss—one he quickly remedies by pulling you to his chest with a bruising grip.

“Think you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, and you snort.

“Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s a playful cat and mouse chase up the stairs to your apartment. You let him crowd you into the door, fumbling for and nearly dropping your keys.

“You know,” you finally get the wherewithal to shove the key into the lock, “this would go a lot faster if you’d let me open the door.”

“Or I could just fuck you right here, give the neighbors somethin’ to complain about—“

You swing the door open and you both freeze, Denki and Shinsou staring back at you—neither looking particularly shocked.

Shinsou grins, turning to Denki. “You owe me $50, motherfucker.”

Denki groans, reaching for his wallet. “You guys couldn’t have waited like another week?”

“Get the fuck out,” Katsuki grumbles over your head, though it’s softer than you think he wanted it to be. It makes you smile.

You take a step into the apartment, and it feels different. You feel different—it’ll be a marathon, not a sprint, but you have the tools to get to the end of it now. You feel lighter than you have in a long time—more prepared for what’s coming next, even if you don’t know what it is. You look at your boys—Shinsou and Denki bickering over whatever bet they made, and Katsuki, who presses a kiss to your temple before taking your bag back to your bedroom—you’re not alone. You never were with these guys, and you won’t be again as long as you all can help it.

You walk over to Shinsou and Denki, cramming yourself between them on your couch.

“Hi,” a little sheepish, still a little embarrassed, “I missed you guys.”

Denki throws his arms around your neck with a drawn out, theatric wail. He peers around you and levels a glare at Shinsou. “They’re talking to me, you rat bastard.”

Shinsou only laughs, shoving his shoulder into yours.

“We missed you, too,” he says, and it’s genuine—you blink away the tears you feel threatening to spill over.

When you look up, Katsuki is in front of you again. He bends to press a kiss to your hairline, and Shinsou lurches away, gagging.

“Oh!” Denki yells, directly into your ear, “Me too, Kaachan—“

“Not on your fuckin’ life, shit ass—“

You know it’ll be okay. It has to be, with a family like this. There will be talks of new songs, projects, albums, and whatever else you can all think of soon, but for now, you’re content to sit in the love that holds you all together.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.  

#it was the dream scene that made me cry btw #drummer!bakugou #band!au #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki fic #mha fic #bakugou long fic #bakugou smut #bakugou fluff #friends to lovers #mha #katsuki #soulmate au

[katsul0vr]

Bakugo x reader smut!!

hi guys! this is my first time writing smut so pls have mercy on me- 

At this moment in your life, you stopped to ask yourself, how the fuck did you end up here.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but here you are again. Trapped under Katsuki’s large frame, whimpering like a bitch in heat as he hits your cervix with every harsh thrust after thrust.

In all honesty, you can’t act like you didn’t lay awake at night, touching yourself an imagining it were him instead. His hands, which were significantly bigger than yours, feeling all around your body, every inch of your skin, claiming it as his. After all, you’d never let anybody else touch you like this. Wouldn’t even dare to think of anyone else thrusting into your tight cunt, calling you his good fucking girl. Telling you that you look so pretty taking his cock like this, saying you feel so damn good squeezing around him every time he whispers praises into your ear.

You let out some mixture of a gasp and a moan when he lifts your leg over his shoulder to fuck you from a better angle. You quickly reach up to grab onto him and drag your nails down his back hard, which will most definitely leave a mark, but he’ll worry about that later. Right now, he’s too focused on the face you make when he slows his thrusts and rubs right against that spot that drives you crazy. Right against the spot that has you clenching around him and begging, pleading, saying any and everything you could think of to convince him to let you cum.

“K-kats, fuck- please, please let me cum, need it so bad, please” you’re so close to losing your mind, the pleasure is too much and it’s taking everything that you have to not finish without his permission. You know better than to do that. You learned your lesson from last time and you’ll never make that mistake again. “Now, baby,” he says, caressing your face gently. For a second, you almost think he’ll let you. But oh, no. You underestimate him. You seem to have forgotten one little detail. Because that light, feathery touch t your face is followed by a slap that brings you to tears. “That’s not my fucking name, now is it, princess?”

Your mind goes blank in that very moment. The sudden impact leaving you speechless, throwing you deeper into subspace than you’ve ever been before.

“ ‘m sorry daddy Im sorry- please let me cum I’ll be good, wanna cum for you. Wanna be your good girl, please, please-“ Your begging is cut off by yet another slap to your cheek and a strong grip on your jaw, forcing you to look up and make eye contact with him. “There’s my good girl. Come on baby, go ahead. Cum for me, slut.” And that’s all it takes for the pressure in your lower stomach to release, you let out a nearly pornographic moan as you finish, squeezing him so goddamn tight, he can’t help but to let go as well. His cum fills you up little by little, and his thrusts slow as he pumps you full of his seed, pressing soft kisses to your lips and forehead, he lets you know just how much of a good girl you were and how well you did for him.

Once you both calm down and catch your breath, he picks you up and carries you to the bathtub. Setting it up with your favorite soap and some bath salts, slowly and carefully placing you into the warm water, he helps you get cleaned up and even dries you off and dresses you when you’re done. He then quickly changes the sheets on your shared bed. He lifts you up and under the covers, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.

“I love you” you say quietly as you start to drift off to sleep in his arms. “I love you too, baby, now get some rest, we got shit to do tomorrow.” You smile and kiss him, then relaxing back into him and falling asleep.

#bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo #katsuki smut #my hero smut #my hero academia #bakugo fanfic #katsuki fic #boku no hero academia #bakugo x reader #bakugo x yn #bakugo x reader smut #bakugo x yn smut #bakugo fluff #katsuki fluff

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

ring pop proposal ♡

fem reader, pure fluff, childhood friends to lovers lemme alone do not perceive me yk the drill by now, lil self indulgent fic cus i love childhood friends to lovers and puppy crushes, polar opposite’s trope, this reeks of my oc x canon katsu ship sooooo shh shh do not perceive.

the first person who realizes katsuki has a crush on you is his mom because when she comes to pick him up one day from kindergarten he suddenly mentions you. it’s an innocent little interaction he had with you that mitsuki doesn’t think much about at first, simply surprised her son managed to befriend someone outside of his little group of friends until he starts mentioning you more and more.

soon you’re the only thing he talks about and katsuki even starts begging her to have you come over to play. mitsuki is extremely curious to know what kind of person you are to have been able to enchant her son the way you have, she says it’s fine as long as you’re parents agree.

you’re a sweet little thing, almost the complete opposite of her little devil’s spawn. you’re polite and a little shy when you ask “ is it okay if i come to play at katsu’s house, please miss katsuki’s mom ?” and how could she say no to you ? she pulls at your cheek lovingly and her son almost snarls at her.

“no touchin’ !” he snarks, pulling you against him like you were his teddy bear.

mitsuki was the first to realize her son had a crush on you when you were always around. when he found something cool during a class trip you were there and whenever he was upset it was always because you had argued about something irrelevant that seemed so much bigger in the eyes of a child.

she realized because katsuki had, and in some ways, will always be rowdy. he’s rough and temperamental and moody—basically, he can be quite the brat. (she wonders where he gets that from a lot) but he’s different with you.

he’ll always be a little rough around the edges but it’s the thought that counts. he drags you around a little too hard but it's to show you something he knows you'd like and you repay him by being patient with him and letting him drag you around to his hearts content. he let’s you use the crayons he’d just denied another classmate seconds ago and when it’s really early in the morning and you’re still sleepy unlike your more energetic friend, he waits for you. sitting with you in the reading corner quietly commenting on a little bit of everything in the book you’re sharing until you’re awake enough to start the day because katsuki wanted you to be together through anything no matter what, starting the day without you was simply unimaginable.

you offer him your kindness and he repays you with his loyalty. acting like your guard dog, protecting you from everything and everyone he considers a threat to you. he goes a bit overboard but it’s the thought that counts and he’s definitely got the right intentions.

“ i’m g’nna marry yn when i grow up !” katsuki proclaims from the backseat of the car after mitsuki had come to pick him up. she looks at him through the rear view mirror only to see he’s not even looking at her, looking out the window somewhat longingly, watching as his school fades away from his sight, further and further and further away from you. she smiles to herself.

“yeah ?” she asks “yeah !” he responds proudly, crossing his arms “ i asked yn if she wanted to be my wife an’ she said yeah, so we’re gettin’ married !”

“huh. how’d you propose ? you don’t have a ring.” she jests.

katsuki responds immediately and exclaims he does have one, shuffling around to reach for something in his pocket. he pulls out a plastic ring pop holder, the candy on top is missing and mitsuki can imagine what happened to it.

“gave her one of these !”

“so that’s why you had me buy those from the store last time,” she hums. “ you ate it, though.”

katsuki tries to roll his eyes but just ends up looking up and to the side, mitsuki recognizes it as him trying to mimic what she does a lot and she snorts.

“well duh, we both did ! ‘f i kept it in my pocket it woulda gotten gross !” he defends. mitsuki simply responds with a hum, smile on her face growing larger as she hears her son happily chatting about the rest of his day with you.

she knows her katsuki is hard to handle. extremely so. but when she sees the way you both interact she can tell something is there. you don’t ‘handle’ him. you like being around him. you like playing and talking with him, she sees how happy you make him whenever you come over for playdates. he holds your hand when you get scared and you hug him tight and beam when you see him again after he’s gotten over a nasty cold.

she can tell you make her son happy and he does the same for you in the way children do with pinky promises and shy cheek kisses, kisses over tiny wounds and refusing to be separated whenever the rowdier one of you both gets his recess time taken away for being naughty.

mitsuki hopes this crush, this love you have for her son can grow along with you. she hopes you’ll stick around as katsuki grows up more and potentially more rowdy and rougher around the edges but even more enamored with you. and with the way her son is squirming around in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt, giddy about you accepting his ring pop proposal, she has a funny feeling you’ll be sticking around for a long time.

#another childhood friends one whats new #can you tell this is my fav trope teehee<3 #Idk if you can tell but it is #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou drabble #katsuki bakugo fluff #you can take this as a prequel for like two of my childhood friends to lvrs fics lololol

[bicheetopuff]

I guess it’s this kids birthday so I’m gonna remind you what character development can do to a mf

He deserves to be happy

#bakudeku #bnha #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #bnha spoilers #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #I had so many other examples #I literally spent an hour trying to narrow down all the panels to just ten #I’m also posting a fic later but I still have to edit so I thought I’d post something incase I don’t get the fic done today oops

[hajiberry]

VOICE-MEMOS THEY SEND WHEN THEYRE DRUNK

Kirishima- “baaaaaaabe, hiii I’m out and well I mean I’m not really out anymore I’m on my way home. In an Uber cause no drunk driving duhhhhhh but actually I’m not even drunk so I actually could’ve driven but somebody I won’t name names was being a bit of an asshat and wouldn’t let me drive. But oh my god I love yousomuch like you know I love my guys but god I miss you every time I go out. And yes I know I’ll see you when I get home but your gonna be sleeping and I’m gonna be sad but honestly might wake you up because I wanna kiss you. Okaaay pulling up to to the cribbb noww BYYE”

Deku- “okay let me start by saying I’m only slightly under the influence right now. Like honestly barely, I didn’t even drink that much but sometimes I feel like because I never had a college experience to build my tolerance up I’m still a lightweight at 24 but anyways I’m on the way home and I keep thinking about how much I love you and I miss you so much and oh my god I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up. Not that I want that to ever happen but like oh my god how could I even function? I’d probably drop from number 1 to like in the hundreds 'cause I’d be that useless without you.” *starts crying and the rest of the audio message is him crying*

Todoroki - “y/n, I’m currently in midoriyas car because he’s driving me home because I accidentally drank too much at the after-party for the award show. I’m so sad you couldn’t come, like I know the anniversary party for your parents is really important that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow to be there for it. Shit, that was a secret. I hope you don’t listen to this because then you’ll know I’m on a plane coming to see you in like 3 hours. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to function hungover on an airplane but I think I’ll manage, I mean it’s not like it’s a commercial flight so I should be good. Damn it well I was originally going to say I love and miss you. Which still stands but I’m gonna go now because I think I’m going to throw up” “TODOROKI NOT IN MY CAR PLEASE”

Bakugou- “fuck. I’m so drunk right now and I hate even admitting that but that’s how shit-faced I am right now that I can even admit that I’m drunk. This is why I should never go out with my idiot friends, they make me drink and then I end up talking about you and that’s so beyond embarrassing. Not that you’re embarrassing I just don’t need them to know my business like that. Kirishimas driving me home right now which I feel like speaks volumes about my lack of good judgment right now. I don’t even know what the point of this message is I just wanted to say you’re one of the most tolerable person I’ve ever met and I really fucking love you. Okay bye this idiots smiling at what I’m saying and it’s creeping me out.

#my hero x reader #my hero headcanons #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima headcanon #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku fanfic #deku scenarios #izuku midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki headcanons #todoroki fluff #izuku x you #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya imagine #todoroki x y/n

[pjs-everyday]

if anyone is gonna rally the 1-A boys into playing dumb dress-up games, it's mina 💕

#no idea what the scenario is here-- maybe tokoyami had hawks merch and they all just try it on????? u kno they all like him hahah #who's your fave? hehe <3 and what do you want mina to request next? ;p #mha #mha art #bnha #my hero academia #mina ashido #eijiro kirishima #bakugou katsuki #deku #izuku midoriya #fumikage tokoyami #tenya lida #shouto todoroki #hanta sero #denki kaminari #mha headcanons #mha fic #kirimina #class 1a #my hero art #my hero fanfic #pjseveryday #illustration #digitial art #anime art #fanart

[dioriya]

stupid, katsuki bakugou.

300. fluff. if the fondness i have for him peeks out in this a little, don’t say a word.

katsuki bakugou has a staring problem.

he does, and he knows he does, but scarlet colored hues narrow each time without fail when they settle upon your features. and to someone who didn't know him, they would think the boy was out to get you. maybe in the middle of the night with no witnesses, to keep his hands clean.

katsuki bakugou also thinks you're stupid.

not academically, of course. he's seen your drive and you're not too bad in any of your classes, actually. he just thinks it's stupid the way your laugh seems to hang in the air a couple seconds after you've even stopped giggling, a hand covered to muffled the sound once aizawa turned to send an unimpressed glare over his shoulder.

it's stupid the way your cheer on the rest of the class during training, waving excitedly as everyone eventually completes the day's challenge, and immediately set to complimenting everyone's individual approach like you actually cared or something.

(flattery doesn't work on him, though, so you can cut the shit.)

(that was a lie.)

and yet.. katsuki bakugou can't help but take a liking to you. strange, he knows. it's not like he expected it, either. but he finds himself offhandedly hoping you're paired together for the next project you'll be assigned, or that you'll run up to him first when he completes the day's training, or that you'll—

notice him staring.

it throws him off too, eyes widening for a split second before immediately turning away, cheek smushed into his hand. and against his will - ugh - he feels his face grow hot, brows furrowed at the sheer audacity.

because now, katsuki bakugou can finally admit to himself that these 'shitty' feelings are more than just stupid.

#bnha fic #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha fluff #mha fic #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader

[shotoh]

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all 

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

.

.

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

.

.

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this  morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

.

.

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

copyright 2022 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated elsewhere so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

[satorusdiary]

reader biting bakugo’s muscles? 🥹

I LIKE THIS, esp cs he got some big muscles.

Boyfriend! Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Imagine this. Normally on a Thursday night you would be waiting on the couch for your boyfriend Katsuki to come home after his patrol.

As of right now, things were different. At 11:34 pm on a Thursday night, you’re laying on your boyfriend’s muscular chest whilst watching a random spider man movie. Your cheek was smushed against his chest. His arms were around your head, and around your waist, you were sure your eyes were drooping.

The yawn you let out caught the older man’s attention, looking away from the large tv to look down at you. A small grin appeared on his face, which turned into bored expression aswell as a tsk coming out of his lips.

“you wanted to watch this stupid movie, now your sleeping on it? C’mon baby, you can do better than that.” He coo’s, kissing your temple.

You scoffed in response, rubbing your eyes. Yet the heat building up in your chest continued to rise, as well as the beats in your heart.

“shut up, ‘m jus more tired than usual, kats.” The sentence that was let out was more of a mumble than an actual straight up response. That’s how your boyfriend knew you were tired.

Your boyfriend snorted in response. “You better stay the fuck awake.. ‘already so long into the movie.” He paused, taking in the scene in-front of him.

“oh.. the girlfriend is falling.” A gruesome expression appears on his face as he watches her fall.

Usually you’d be awake for this type of stuff, but your eyes were struggling to stay open.

With the little amount of strength you had left in you, your e/c orbs darted to Katsukis meaty arms. You hadn’t noticed how toned it was, considering that he was only in a wife beater.

Though you could barely move, the only movement you made was moving your head from off his chest, to his arm. Taking a chomp out of the area that you felt was the most appropriate.

Chomp!

Katsuki didn’t flinch, instead he paused the movie and looked down at you who was biting the fuck out of his bicep.

“You little shit— did you just fuckin bite me??” Katsuki grumbles, lightly shaking you off so you would stop biting him.

A bite mark was left on his bicep, it didn’t hurt. Obviously it didn’t hurt, or caused any problems to your boyfriend. But he was concerned on how why you did it.

You grinned in response, rubbing on the bite mark before kissing it.

“Sorry suki, y’ur arms are just s’ unresistible.” You moaned in sastisfsction, head snuggling deeper into his chest.

He rolled his eyes, propping two fingers on your chin to force you to look at him.

“You’re stupid, dunno how I ended up with you.” Katsuki grumbled, placing a few kisses on your eager, pretty lips.

“You love me” you smiled, kissing his red cheek.

“you know i do, sweets.”

As he thought everything was over, you placed one last kiss to his cheek. Before biting the soft, chubby part.

Katsukis eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching in annoyance.

“You’re going to be the fuckin death of me, ‘little brat..” He uttered, repeatedly whilst you giggle the night away.

Even if he was grumpy, his arms always found a way to hug you tighter. The whole night was spend giggling, having fun, biting, all of the above. The movie was long forgotten.

Even if you kept biting him, all he wanted was a soothing kiss on the bite. That’s because he loves you.

Even if you’re a pain in the ass.

#bakugou headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo fic #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x you #mha fanfiction #my hero acedamia #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki

[miingyur]

baby fever | bakugou headcanons

part 2 part 3

tags: suggestive themes, not proof read, heat in the moment writing, fem reader, mentions of pregnancy, established marriage, they’re pro heroes, crappy writing.

word count: 642

☆ bakugou katsuki. when people hear that name, they say he’s rough, brusque and edgy, a double sided sword. on the other hand, you find him sweet and loving, quite adorable even if he denies it.

☆ you often think a lot about how he would treat your kids in the near future and despite his tough exterior, he’s grown fond of kids.

☆ social media thinks that he's going to be the worst dad to exist if you have kids, you think they’re delusional.

☆ but the moment you realize you know he’s the one for your non-existent kids is when you’re both out on patrol and you find a lost kid. “leave him to me” katsuki grumbles. “go get yer injury healed”

☆ you do as told, conversing with one of the medics, and in the corner of your eye, you spot the child laughing with your husband.

☆ butterflies dance about in your stomach, fluttering vigorously. “he’s going to be a great dad, [hero name].“ the medic says. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, almost like you held the earth up for him.”

☆ you softly thank her with a smile, beaming with rays of sunshine as you approach your boyfriend. secretly watching him play with the young boy.

☆ “I see you’re both having a great time” you say. katsuki whips his head in surprise, coughing into his fist as if to hide his blush. “has dynamight been nice to you, sweetie?”

☆ the kid jumps up and down in glee, bobbing his head. “mister dynamight is the best! he even gave me a lollipop! but mommy can’t know or she might get upset”

☆ he sheers away in embarrassment. “thought it might cheer him up or somet’ing” you press your lips against his cheek, praising him for his work when the kid pretends to gag. you both chuckle.

☆ “aoi!” a woman calls out and the boy goes running to his mother, “oh my god, I can’t thank you enough.” you smile at her and tell her it’s your job as heroes, waving back to aoi as they leave.

☆ “having a kid doesn’t sound so bad. I wouldn’t mind waking up to our baby in your arms. It’s adorable and sexy.”

☆ he pauses. freezing in place. did he hear you right? our baby. him being a dad? sexy? fuck. you were definitely going to be the death of him.

☆ “[hero name]!” he calls out. you wink at him, skipping off to the agency. “baby! you can’t just say that and leave me like this!” he groans. having a hard on in the middle of work was going to be difficult to explain.

☆ the next morning, you saw the media, snorting at the headline. PRO HERO DYNAMIGHT SEEN SMILING WITH A KID. COULD WE POSSIBLY BE SEEING POTENTIAL FATHER MATERIAL?

☆ you yelp in surprise, dropping your phone on the side of the bed at the sudden touch of your boyfriend. “c’mere” he rasps. “why the fuck are you up s’early? it’s only 8am, go back t’sleep”

☆ “wanted to check the time is all. do you need something?” you ask.

☆ he shakes his head and lays you atop of him, grinding against your ass as a grin paints his lips, canines showing. “only thing I need is to fill you up to the brim and pump you full of my cum.”

☆ “katsuki! It’s only 8am!” you repeat his words. they fall deaf on his ears.

☆ next thing you know, you’re holding a test in your hand, double lines are present as a smug katsuki smirks at you. what a little shit.

#leewrites ☪︎ #idk what I was thinking #brain go bye bye #bakugou headcanons #boku no hero imagines #bakugou brainrot #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #anime fic #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #katsuki headcanons

[itgetzweird08]

Okay walk with me- this sound has had a death grip on me so I wrote a lil smth 👀 (I wrote two variations of this, so here’s the other version)

Bakugo x Reader

Imagine you and Bakugo knowing eachother since kindergarten. He was loud, boastful, smart and, proud. You were on the more quiet side, choosing to color or read or even nap during down times. You didn’t talk to Bakugo much, never had much of a reason to. You didn’t share any friends and didn’t have much in common. Yet, every once in a while, you would notice him staring at you. Yet you never thought much of it.

However, for Bakugo, every time your eyes met his, his heart fluttered in his chest. You were always a bit of a mystery to him, a puzzle he could never quite figure out. You were the only thing that really scared him. Not because he saw you as a true threat, but he knew himself and his personality, and even when he tried to be kind it was taken the wrong way. He never wanted to mess that up. But god, how he wish he could say hello.

As you got older, he only yearned more for you. He wished he had the courage to compliment your new hairstyle, or the new pin on your backpack. He over heard you talking about your favorite tv show one day, and he wished he was brave enough to come to you the next day after watching every episode, just to make conversation. As the years went by, Bakugo fell in love with you. Yet you, beautiful you, were unaware.

When you both got into UA, it was a miracle by All Might himself that you were both in class A together. And he finally saw it as his shot, his chance to get to know you more, and for you to know him. That way, maybe, you would come to love him just as he had come to love you for all of these years.

“I could never choose to love another”

“Maybe one day I could learn to love you…too”

#mha #mha fic #boko no hero academia #bakugo x black reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #mha headcanons #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #mha katsuki bakugo #bakugo ooc #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #unrequited love #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fanfic #mha x black reader

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this is loosely based off of @emmyrosee 's messing with sukuna post bc i just love the idea of messing with your whiny baby dramatic boyfriend and i immediately thought about katsuki ! if you want this taken down lmk !

katsuki is hilarious to mess with.

you've only been staring at him for about 5 seconds when he turns to you.

"whaddya want ?" he asks with a raised brow. you're still all smiles, resting your head into your palm

"nothing." you hum, he grumbles a bit but doesn't pay it any mind. until you keep staring. he's trying to focus on his phone but you can tell he's about to snap when he starts squinting at the device.

"what ?" he grumbles, red eyes narrow at your smile widening.

"nothing !"

"yn. don't fuck with me."

"i'm not !" you giggle " i'm just looking at you, am i not allowed to ?"

you know exactly what to say to fluster him without fail every time, it's something you're most proud of when you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.

"..no."

you snort "no ?"

"shaddup." he says through gritted teeth "so what, you're just lookin' at me ?"

"yeah." you shrug "i like lookin' at my pretty boyfriend." you prop your head against the couch and sigh dreamingly to sell the lovesick act. katsuki inhales through his nose, chest puffing like he's upset and he tsks, ears and cheeks beet red.

"weirdo." he scoffs, then grabs the back of your head to pull you in and press his lips to yours roughly.

you're both breathing heavy when you pull away. he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as he heaves lightly, eyeing you from your eyes to your lips. and then he huffs through his nose like a bull and roughly pulls you into in chest, causing you to release an 'oomph !' at the force when he flops down onto the couch, pulling you with him.

"m'not pretty." he mocks your voice and you huff a laugh into his collarbone. you wiggle around and your boyfriend loosens his hold a bit so you can look up at him.

"you so are !" you argue, he won't look at you but narrows his eyes at the tv he'd turned to to distract himself from your gaze.

"nah, that's you, babe." he switches through the channels "thought you said i was handsome last week."

"you can be pretty and handsome at the same time, the proof is right in front of me." you flirt, he looks at your from the corner of his eye and his mouth curls up like he smelled something nasty when you wink at him.

"gross."

"you're blushing~" you sing, closing your eyes and laying your head onto his chest, you sigh happily when he starts rubbing up and down your back instinctively.

"go to sleep. m'tired of listening to you." he pushes your head down into his chest jokingly and you giggle. you can't see the smirk growing on his face from where your being shoved into.

you wrestle out of his hold to look at him to see he's already staring at you, half smirk on his face and he scoffs at your expression, you huff through your nose and your smile widens.

"you love me." you whisper knowingly, katsuki takes the hand off of your back to pinch at your side and he snorts when you squeal.

"unfortunately."

you yelp when he wets his lips and he captures yours in a sloppy wet kiss.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #iiii kinda jus wanted to write this randomly do not perceive me #not proofread at all he just seems fun to make fun of #didnt get to add this in the fic but i needed yall to see how much of a loser katsuki is by remembering a random compliment from last week #LMFAOO #bakugou imagine #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou drabble #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader

[myballsyourballs]

OKAY IVE BEEN IMAGINING A HAWKS X BAKUGOUS OLDER BROTHER READER?? okay but here me out bro, reader has been dating hawks for a while now, occasional family dinners at readers house with his parents, not brother, due to the fact that he’s training.

reader never brought up the fact that his younger brother goes to ua, and hawks never said anything about teaching 1a gym time-to-time, one day, reader goes to pick up katsuki early from school, and he realizes hawks is teaching, basically how everyone would react to one, finding out bakugou has a brother, and two he’s dating hawks??

(ps, hawks knew of readers last name, but never thought anything of it,)

big bro

keigo takami x male! older bakugou brother! reader

genre: fluff and slight crack oneshot (1,300ish words)

notes: i’m not a massive fan of how i wrote this (i don’t think it’s very good) but it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here you go

synopsis: reader is katsuki's older brother who is dating hawks -- katsuki doesn't know reader is dating hawks, and hawks doesn't know katsuki is reader's brother. it stays that way until reader has to pick up katsuki from school early while hawks is teaching.

masterlist | make a request

Principal Nezu is shorter than you expect.

You expected him to be a man-sized rat, not a rat-sized man; though you suppose that isn’t an apt description either, given that he’s at least 2 feet tall and most rats aren’t 2 feet tall.

Regardless, he's still pretty intimidating when you run into him in the hall and he starts to ask you what you're doing.

"I'm looking for Bakugou Katsuki -- uh, my little brother. My parents wanted me to pick him up early since we're leaving today to go on a trip." Nezu seriously makes you nervous.

“Bakugou Katsuki is in Hero Training as of right now. You’ll be able to find him in the gym!” He smiles at you, teeth surprisingly white for a rodent. “Make sure to alert his teacher before you leave,” Nezu continues, an unnerving glint in his abyss-like eyes. You decide not to ask why he knows Katsuki’s timetable by heart.

“Sure. Thanks, Principal Nezu,” you smile, offering him a handshake kindly.

“Anytime, Bakugou-san.”

As you step into the gym, the first thing you notice is the smell of sweat. That, and the temperature. Despite the amount of heat emanating from the fire quirks of a select few and the body heat of everyone in the gym, it’s — surprisingly — rather cool. UA's unflinching ability to invest copious amounts of money into air conditioning was impressive. Your eyes trail across the sweeping ceilings and expensive equipment, whistling lowly. I should come here more often.

1-A looks to be split into pairs — sparring, maybe? — each student difficult to view clearly under the thin blanket of steam and smoke that surrounds them. Katsuki, however, is easy to spot among them. His explosions light up the room, the sound of the loud booms only rivalled by his rage-fuelled yelling. You watch, amused. Glad he’s… letting that out.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt class (the idea of 20 different teenagers having their undivided attention on you was a terrifying thought), the teacher was nowhere in sight and you were running out of time. “Katsuki!” you call, waving at the angry red glare that lands on you. The boy, in response, rolls his eyes snidely and stays rooted on the spot.

You sigh. Little brothers are so goddamn annoying. “Let’s go, dude,” you urge, emphasising your words with a vague ‘hurry up’ gesture. He scowls, but obliges nonetheless, walking slowly over with his hands shoved into his pockets. Once he's in front of you, he stops.

“My teacher isn’t here. I can’t leave yet.”

“Isn’t it their job to, you know, teach? Where the fuck did they go?” You furrow your brows.

“Fuck if I know,” Katsuki responds, matching your curses with equal indifference. “He went with Deku to go and get something.”

“Izuku’s here?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, dumbass? He’s in my class.”

And that’s when you notice the rest of 1-A. 18 pairs of eyes stare at you in utter shock and confusion, burning with questions. Your body stills, awkward under their gazes.

“Is that… your brother?” a red-haired boy with sharp teeth asks, looking between you and Katsuki slowly.

“Yeah,” Katsuki replies nonchalantly.

You take in the other boy's appearance: the insane amount of gel in his weirdly-styled hair, pointed teeth and the fact that he was sparring with Katsuki. Close friend, bad hair?

“You must be Shitty Hair.” you say, prompting half of the class to erupt into giggles. Vaguely, you recall his name is Kirishima, but Katsuki says it so rarely that you barely even associate it with him. ‘Shitty Hair’ blushes at the attention, nodding bashfully with an awkward smile. He rubs the nape of his neck, glancing once again between Katsuki and you.

“I can see how you’re related,” he laughs uncertainly.

“I can see who got the good genes,” a pink-haired girl with horns calls, “clearly not Bakugou.”

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGA—”

The doors slam open. You first see Izuku, who pauses at the commotion, and behind him you see… your boyfriend? What the fuck?

“Keigo?”

“[Y/N]?”

“[Y/N]-nii?” Izuku adds.

“Nii?” someone whispers in confusion.

“Hey, Izuku,” you respond weakly.

Silence falls. You take a moment to appreciate Keigo in his hero costume before the dots connect and you turn to Katsuki accusingly.

“He’s your teacher!?”

“He’s your brother!?” Keigo counters.

You turn to your boyfriend. “I told you I have a brother. You know my last name. You’ve literally met my mother and she’s the carbon-copy of Katsuki. Keigo, what even?”

“Er, well, in hindsight, maybe you’re right— but... you’re so nice,” he says, disbelief evident in his wide eyes and confused brows. “And he’s so… not—”

“The fuck did you just say—!?”

“Young man, I will give you a detention if you swear at me again,” Keigo says sternly, schooling his face into something unnaturally serious and crossing his toned arms over his chest. You can see the humour dancing his eyes, prompting you to chuckle quietly.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yes, Hawks-sensei,” he mutters, face contorted into a scowl. He angrily taps his shoe on the ground.

“Stop being a shit,” you chide, grabbing Katsuki by the shoulder roughly and rubbing your knuckles into his skull. The rest of 1-A watches on in absolute disbelief. (Except Izuku. He’s used to this.)

Katsuki groans exasperatedly, “You stop being a shit.”

“Hey!” Hawks gasps dramatically, “don’t call my boyfriend a shit!”

Silence.

You rub a hand over your temple in an attempt to ease your oncoming headache.

“YOUR FUCKING WHAT?!”

“Katsuki—”

The rest of 1-A is left in shock. (Including Izuku, this time). Some start yelling, some look like they’ve turned to stone, the usual. You’re too busy trying to hold back your feral little brother from attacking Keigo — you know he won’t actually, you’re just hoping Keigo knows that too.

“Wait, you’re gay?” A boy who you can recall as Kaminari splutters. Your face crinkles into confusion, nose scrunching like you’ve smelt a bad odour. You can see why Katsuki calls him Dunce Face.

“It runs in the family,” you say, with a pointed look to Katsuki.

His exhaustion must’ve caught up to him since he only offers a middle finger in response. Kaminari bursts into startled and slightly scared laughter.

A warm arm makes its way around your waist and it takes an embarrassing amount of effort for you to suppress a smile. You don’t even have to look at Keigo to know that he’s grinning.

Neither of you are big fans of PDA, but the urge to hug him right now is particularly strong; especially since he’s right there, but there’s also 20 kids right there which sucks and you have to go—

Right. You and Katsuki need to go. That was the point of this whole ordeal.

“Keigo,” you murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. The rest of the class has ignored the two of you in favour of chatting amongst themselves or questioning Katsuki. Keigo hums, meeting your eyes. He smiles, his golden irises pooling with affection and his arm squeezing gently around your waist, seemingly in a trance. You chuckle, “I need to go.”

He startles. “Right! Right,” he says, clearing his throat. You pretend not to notice the faint tinge of red high on his cheekbones.

“Okay, 1-A. I’m gonna go sort this out quickly,” Keigo says to the class, his voice raised slightly in order to drown out the talking. “So please continue sparring — without quirks — until I’m back. I won’t be long.”

The class answers an affirmative, and then the two of you (plus Katsuki) are out the door. You turn to face Keigo, placing a quick peck on his lips. “I thought I just needed to tell you Katsuki was leaving and then you’d sort it?”

“That’s true… but I missed you,” Keigo sighs wearily, acting like he hadn’t seen you in years. (You spent the night with him literally yesterday.)

“Stop before I tear my fucking eyes out,” Katsuki interrupts. Keigo lifts his head to glare unhappily at him.

“Piss off, Katsuki,” you grumble, placing a slightly longer kiss on Keigo’s lips. You pull away at the realisation that you’re probably late, which means you’ll probably have to face the wrath of Mitsuki Bakugo. “I should— we should go. I’ve stayed way longer than I needed to.”

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki grumbles, occupying himself with his phone. Teenagers.

Keigo groans dejectedly but lets you go nonetheless. He watches you walk away, waving. “Bye, honeybear!”

“Don’t call me that!”

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x male reader #keigo takami #x male reader #male reader #reader #keigo x male reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x male reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks fic #hawks fanfic #keigo takami fic #keigo takami fanfic #masc reader #x masc reader #x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #bakugo fic #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha

[pjs-everyday]

closeups of our cheeky thief: lost and found, finders keepers— if ya leave it behind, it’s hers! (she’ll give it back to ya… eventually 😉) 🩷

cheeky thief comic: part 1 // closeups // bakugo's shirt // part 2

#lol yep todays lesson is don’t leave ya stuff in the laundry room lmao #why does she look good in everything though ?? hahaha #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #uraraka ochako #ochako uraraka #kacchako #bakugo katsuki #izuocha #izuku midoriya #todochako #mha art #mha headcanon #mha fic #bnha fanart #kirichako #pjseveryday #illustration #art #sketchbook #digital illustration #fanart #anime art #uravity #eijirou kirishima

[joonipertree]

To show someone that you care, is a gift itself. | Sugar Daddy Bakugo Series

Where you show Katsuki what a gift can be.

Tags: Artist!reader, very self indulgent, like guys....please buy me watercolour paper instead of Versace. Watercolour paper is stupid expensive. Im also not skilled enough to actually make the gift so--

Pt 1 Pt 3

Katsuki's birthday had been looming when the two of you started going out, like a weighted shadow. You had spent a very long stressing about what to get him with a budget that wasn't even worth a fraction of what he would buy you.

But, like gift giving was Katsuki's, it was your love language as well. And you'd gotten good at getting heart felt things for people. Admittedly, it took a lot of brainstorming and notes upon notes of what to get.

You'd always go overboard to please the people you cared about, afraid that they'll leave if you didn't cross the limits and bend over backwards for them.

Katsuki had always taken care of you, never asked for anything and your love was returned albeit in a quieter and tsundere manner. So the urge to go above and beyond didn't fester for long, knowing that your bare presence made him warmer.

Your gift idea came when he was on the ring, swift on his feet and solid in the rigidness of his body. You'd brought your sketchbook and while you wanted to keep your eyes on your boyfriend, your hands became busy with large curves and sharp flicks of your pencil that brought dark edges .

You'd made at least 20 quick gestures drawings that were more crude representations of movement for you. But with those and the feelings you trapped in your heart, you made thumbnails and chose one to draw large scale.

One where Katsuki's face was partially blocked by his arm and he gave a blow. His elbows were jagged, muscles taut and rippling. And his eyes sharp and cat like.

The charcoal pencils and sticks used to create tapered lines to create hard surfaces was 340 yen. The watercolour pallete used had messy paint splattered everywhere and its lid broken, having been with you for a good while. The coat over the charcoal was 50 yen hair spray that worked just as well as professional sprays.

It didn't cost a lot but your hands were full of care and by the end of it, you hoped that it'd be something Katsuki would at least like. The man could have the world but all you had was you.

You didn't realize that you were more than enough

Katsuki to lost his voice when you handed it to him at midnight, eyes wide as he stared at him but not him. The layers on layers of paint held emotions that he could only describe as love, meticulously hand picked and felt in strokes. He'd seen HD pictures of his fights, seen videos of them where his sweat and pores were as clear as day. The most he'd thought of them were how his form could improve or how cool he looked.

But what you made, it twisted something in his chest and stung his eyes and filled him to the brim with love so warm and overwhelming that his body wasn't big enough to hold it.

You two had been dating for 4 months, Katsuki had spent that time falling in love with you in ways he didn't think possible. He'd fall with every giggle and kiss and ramble and your face when you were concentrating. He'd never said 'I love you', hoping his actions showed it enough, still too scared to speak it in case it was met with hesitance or silence.

But Katsuki had gently put down the canvas, something you that you'd built, stretched and primed yourself. And while you made eye contact with the walls and ceiling, you explained how the only thing you could come up with was the painting, that you wanted to capture the emotions you felt when you saw him fight. That it wasn't much but---

Katsuki had engulfed you in a hug, hand on the back of your head to press it against him and an arm around your waist. He squeezed you, tried to express all that he was feeling with one hug alone. You felt it, held him tightly and carded your fingers through his hair. With his shoulders shaking, you had an inkling that he had been crying. When he spoke, with a wobbly voice, you were sure that he was.

"I love you." He'd muttered out for the first time.

"I love you more." You whispered back and Katsuki had firmly denied it, that no one could love a person as much as he loved you.

Getting a gift for you became hard after that, because Katsuki sucked at making shit.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction