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1 NEW REQUEST @DYNAMIGHT: you look good in that bikini babe.
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— won't you come be the man i need (1K ,fluff) bakugou x reader
— where did the time go? (2.4K, fluff) toji x reader
1 NEW REQUEST @HONOURED1: giving the sun a run for it's money fr.
how is nasa at the beach? 𖤐 current dilemma: i need a job or to be by the beach. 𖤐 current song: dive by olivia dean. 𖤐 current anime: fire force, my hero. 𖤐 current read: fearless by lauren roberts.
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18+. the many times you & higuruma get caught at work.
I. case one: the evidence locker ( 8:12 PM )
higuruma hiromi is dark pressed suit, two rings on his long fingers & a moral compass that always points north. you’re a paralegal with skirt 3cm below the dress code & a magnet in your molars that has hiromi’s compass swiveling south.
you’re tugging on his tie now. “come onnn, ‘ruma. please?”
a paralegal should not be referring to their boss as ‘ruma. they also should not be dragging him into the evidence locker at 8PM to look for a ‘missing file’ he swears doesn’t even exist. you’re currently doing both. and higuruma lets you.
your lips are summer sticky & far too hot. your hand’s in his hair now, nails on his nape, his palm bunching at the folds of your skirt. your breath’s ridiculously hot in his mouth as you huff & puff against his tongue, shoving him against the lockers. hiromi slaps your ass when you dare to let out a whine.
BANG !
the loud sound jolts your bodies apart. higuruma’s palm is still on your thigh—“hiromi ?!”
“the auto-lock,” his palms drag over his face. he breathes, “it’s eight-thirty. the basement seals automatically till the morning shift.”
he lets out a low, frustrated groan that vibrates through your rib. even now, you’re still pressed against him, half-clothed tits pressed into his chest as his thumb grazes circles on your hip. he dials a number with his other hand, ignoring the sloppy, gloss-drenched kisses you leave on his jaw as he speaks to the security desk at the end of the line.
half-an-hour later—after higuruma’s stewing & you calming him down with apology head, complete with your hair tied in a sympathy bun of course—the heavy metal door drags open. a security guard armed with a flashlight walks in. he’s greeted with the sight of higuruma buttoning your shirt, sympathy bun long come undone.
you’re free. and you’re in so much trouble.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: UNAUTHORIZED AFTER-HOURS ACCESS & BREACH OF SECURITY
punishment: Written warning & $500 Penalty fine for Emergency Override.
issued by: Levi Ackerman, Chief of security.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘the evidence locker is no place for ‘private deliberations.’ and keep in mind all audio is recorded. in no world should the word ‘tight’ be moaned in an emergency distress call.
II. case two: encrypted outlook thread ( 12:21 PM )
higuruma hiromi ought to teach you a lesson.
frankly, you’re the worst paralegal he’s had the mispleasure of working with since joining pearson hardman. he can’t help but envy his rival, phoenix wright, and his paralegal, maya fey!
you’re much too forgetful, too busty, too disorganized. at 9AM today the files for the high-priority danganronpa case were due on his desk. they didn’t reach him till eleven, and you had the audacity to add on a sticky note labeled ‘sorry!’ and ‘meet me downstairs for some apology head ;)’. higuruma hiromi has concluded that you never learn.
so he decides he’ll teach you himself.
Subject: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Not only were the documents I requested for prep late, they were also extremely disorganized. This is a serious case regarding kidnapped and murdered children, and I suggest you exercise some more seriousness and be more meticulous in your conduct. You also left an implicit sticky-note attached to the files. I suggest you come visit my office, lest I file a formal complaint.
Regards,
Higuruma Hiromi
—
Subject: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Counselor,
Are you threatening me with a complaint? I’m just doing my job. I did notice your tie was a bit crooked today, though, so I’d be happy to come fix it for you when I swing by your office. Or take it off completely. Let me know when you’d like me to drop in and fix those files!
Regards,
Y/N L/N
—
Subject: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
You can come fix it now. And then I’m going to fix the way you think you can talk to a Senior Associate. I will lock the door, and you will not be released till you admit exactly how much of a headache you’re deliberately trying to be. Don't test me, [Y/N]. I’m a very patient man, but even I have limits.
Higuruma Hiromi.
ー
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
ruma,
i suck at corporate speak 😭 are u saying ur gonna eat my pussy orrrrrr
—
Subject: [SECURITY ALERT] KEYWORD FLAG / SERVER SCRUB
From: Hange Zoë (IT Department)
To: Higuruma, Hiromi; [L/N], [Y/N]
CC: Human Resources (General Inbox)
Hi Hiromi, [Y/N],
Just a friendly heads-up: I’m running the quarterly server audit and the 'harassment/explicit' keyword filter just went off like a fire alarm on your thread. Specifically because of the word 'pussy.’
Sorry to intrude on your corporate sexting session! I’ve paused the sync to the main server, but the automated log has already been forwarded to the Senior Partners. You guys might want to check your calendars. Erwin at HR just opened a new 'Conduct Investigation' folder with both your names on it (uh oh!)
Best of luck to you both! And Y/N, I could be wrong, but I think his last message was implying BDSM; though I don’t doubt he’d be willing to eat you out as well!
Happy eating!
Zoë Hange
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: MISUSE OF COMPANY COMMUNICATION CHANNELS / EXPLICIT DIGITAL CONDUCT
punishment: Mandatory 2-hour 'Digital Ethics' Webinar & temporary monitoring of all outgoing firm emails.
issued by: Erwin Smith, Head of Human Resources.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘It has come to our attention that the Danganronpa Case thread was used for ‘personal negotiations,’ that which our investigative committee has concluded were most likely inappropriate. Please refrain from using the firm’s Outlook servers as your personal Wizz/Tinder moving forward. And Higuruma, we expect better from you. Please report to room three on floor six after lunch break. The door will not be locked.’
III. case three: company zoom meeting ( 5:04 PM )
higuruma hiromi thinks he’s so fucking smart.
he also thinks he’s the king of calendar invites. so when he tells you to send out an email for a company zoom meeting for 6PM but set the zoom’s actual time to five, he supposes his intellect rivals god.
“you’re late, y/n,” higuruma’s voice is close to guttural. he’s laid back on his desk chair, tie loose, legs spread, hair impossibly messy. and you’re knelt on your floor, laptop on your thighs.
you’re sporting the cutest little bath robe higuruma has ever seen. you’re grinning at the screen, cheeks peach-dappled & lips bent in a clumsy smile,
“hi, ‘ruma! wanna see my tits?”
lord, how higuruma adores you !
and who is he to say no? he leans back against his seat, swivel chair groaning with a creeeaaak. he’s already unzipping his pants as you begin to shrug off your pretty pink robe, breasts glazed over & supple in the fluorescent light.
a tiny, bright green notification pings at the bottom of the screen.
[Participants: 48]
higuruma freezes. then rises up, palm curling off his shaft & inching towards his keyboard.
slowly, agonizingly, he clicks on gallery view.
forty-six pearson hardman employees stare at him back.
erwin smith looks like he just witnessed a war promised to him 2000 years ago. hange zoë has a measuring tape held up against the screen. his rival, phoenix, is making a face that reminds him of the many memes of that one streamer you’d often send him—i show meat? levi ackerman has already left the meeting—he knows because the notification flashes at the corner of the screen.
and right there in the center box? harvey specter, senior partner of pearson hardman ltd, has his chin in his hand & eyes intensely locked on to the screen.
is he looking at your breasts ?
oh right, you! you’ve been calling out for the past one minute now, completely unaware of the other forty-six employees watching your wet nipples glisten in the light.
“‘ruma? ‘ruma? ugh, is this thing on?”
higuruma slams his laptop shut. it bangs louder than the gunshot that killed charlie kirk.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: PUBLIC INDECENCY / TOTAL BREACH OF FIRM REPUTATION
punishment: Termination of Employment (Effective Immediately)
issued by: Harvey Specter, Senior Partner ; The Board of Directors.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi (RESIGNED), [Y/N] [L/N]
‘Hey guys! Harvey here. So after a meeting with the rest of the board, we’ve come to the decision to terminate your employment. Higuruma, your resignation letter has been duly received. Gonna be completely honest, that was the last thing I ever expected to see in a corporate meeting. But you two really spiced up my evening, thanks! I tried to negotiate with Jessica and the other directors on your behalves, but sadly they weren’t having it.’
P.S: ‘Nice cock, Hiromi! Very impressive both length and girth wise. And sorry for sneaking a peak at your chest, Y/N. At the very least, your boob job looks very natural. Best of luck to you both!’
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♥︎⠀ 𖡻 𓈒ֵ۫𓏼 . . katsuki nd his princess! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১
“aauughhh, there’s nothing to watcchhh!” you groan, followed by your tv remote being flung at katsuki’s head, earning a loud grunt from him.
he picks his head up from where it was resting on one of your fat squishmallows, eyebrows pinched as his hand rubs the spot the remote hit. “fuck was that for?”
he doesn’t even wait for a response, just grabbing the remote from where it landed and grumbling. “relax, i’ll find you something”, and starts to scroll on netflix.
“i can’t work properly if im not entertained!” you whine, standing across the girly bedroom with your tape measure, eyeing your mannequin up and down.
katsuki rolls his eyes, resting his chin atop the pink butterfly plushie with his stomach laid flat on your duvet. “i know, baby.” he hums, hearing you move about the little working area in your room, cluttered with needles and glitter and fabrics.
you were a special girl, that’s for sure. whiny and a pain in the ass, but sweet when you were happy. like all women, katsuki’s noticed.
he huffs softly, clicking on my little pony—cuz that’s your favorite show for some reason.
“you hungry?” he grunts, tilting his head to glance at you, currently inspecting the pretty piece you’re working on.
“no.” you respond immediately, lashes fluttering in frustration.
katsuki stares for another second before nodding and rolling out of the frilly bed with a soft sigh, fluffy carpet caressing his bare feet.
“be right back.” he mumbles with a little smirk he tries to hide, kissing your puffy cheek on the way out of your room.
not even two minutes later, he pads back in, hands filled with snacks. your eyes snap over from the tv, of course.
“save some for me…?” you murmur gently as he crawls back onto your bed with a grunt.
there she is, his baby.
“course, angel.” katsuki snorts, knowing he was right about your little mood. it’s okay, he doesn’t mind it one bit. “m’not a greedy fatass like you.”
“oh so fuck you too.” you reply, but you can’t help the sweet giggle that leaves your throat, a warm feeling emerging in your chest.
your eyes go back to the tv for a moment—rarity and applejack are flirting like always. you smile a little more, putting down your scissors and sparkly charms before flopping down backwards top of your boyfriend with a small oomph from him.
your back’s rested on katsuki’s all childishly like two teenagers at their millionth sleepover. that’s what it feels like sometimes with him. and you’re glad. really really glad.
“gimme please.” you chirp with a toothy smile up at the ceiling.
katsuki grabs a bag of hot fries and leans back to the best of his ability, feeding you the chip like you’re some sort of goddess he wants to appease (and keep happy forever.)
he hears your soft “thank you” right before you flip over onto your stomach, still on his back for some reason he won’t argue about.
you slide your chin onto his shoulder, nuzzling the side of your face against his, feeling the slight graze of stubble on your cheek.
“i feel ya chewin.” he mumbles, a little grin on his lips at the odd yet strangely intimate sensation.
“babydoll,” you hum all soft, that sweet little nickname leaving your lips, and he almost fucking melts.
“i love you. love you lots.” you press a fat glossy kiss to his cheekbone and his face flushes.
“yeah..” he murmurs, happily feeding you another hot fry. “i know, silly.”
synopsis: you didn’t expect dynamight to be high when you visited him in the hospital. he confesses something to you.
warnings: minors dni, flirty, fluffy, so much swearing, one shot, bkg is high on medical painkiller drugs, lowkey black reader with braids mention but just ignore it i'm not changing it lol
notes: a lot of my fics are feeling similar atm but this is an old ass drabble turned fic from months ago!!! anyway don’t gaf lmk if u enjoy! will proof read in the morning hope the typos aren’t crazy
a soft knock on the door snaps bakugou out of his loopy dazed stare at the blank egg white wall before him.
he’s always hated hospitals but loved the fact he could finally rest with a valid reason. his whole body was numb, even though it was just his face that had work done. he’s only lightly touched the rough stitches that start from his right earlobe, trickling down to the corner of his mouth. his surgeon is always good to him, it’s the same one he had for his chest but since he’s got bigger the last time he’s been here, he’s sure they’ve messed up his dose.
bakugou is rarely ever high. occasionally a joint socially with his buddies but that is nothing like how he feels right now. he’s on a completely different plain. everything is funny to embarrassing to confusing to serious - all whilst being alone in his hospital room.
the knock raps on his door again since he forgot to verbally answer the first time.
“bakugou? it’s me, can i come in?”
you. it’s you. you cannot see him like this. but… he would like to see you. he loves how you tuck your braids behind your ear when you smile, how you always smell sweet with a twinge on ginger and how you roll your eyes when he says something stupid and he—
“yes… i am here! come in.”
where the hell did the all might impression come from? he doesn’t have time to cringe or even think about what he said because you walk in your cute denim skirt, white shirt, red scarf and brown leather boots. you’re so adorable, you must know that right? you’re out of your hero uniform, probably changed a few hours ago whilst he was getting his stitches done.
“oh bakugou! that looks like it hurts!” you exclaim and upon realising, he probably looks a little… not the most attractive right now, bakugou yanks his duvet sheet over his face. his feet revealed at the end of the bed.
the action is so unlike the usual don’t give a fuck how he looks bakugou katsuki, you freeze in your walk towards the him, your arm that was reached out now in mid air.
“b-bakugou?”
“you can’t see me like this.”
you continue towards him, pulling up a seat right next to his bed. the antiseptic smell in the air makes you sit up straighter but the sweet syrupy scent from his sweat makes you lean in closer to him. you plop your bag on the ground to get comfortable in your seat.
you’re still confused, his large scarred fingers at the top of the sheet while the rest of his face looks like a bad ghostly halloween costume.
“erm… why?”
bakugou huffs behind the covers, “because i know the scar looks ugly. don’t want you to see all that.”
you don’t think you’d ever find bakugou ugly. like it feels like a stupid thought to have when he’s just objectively isn’t. with his strong jaw that could cut through tree trunks, his gorgeous ruby eyes and his build… you’re around heroes all day but something about dynamight— tall, muscled and fast, really does it for you.
sure, he’s got a little attitude but it’s always for the betterment of the situation! or are you just making excuses for him like your friends say?
“you’re acting odd!” you chuckle, “did they give you too much gas or something?”
“i fucking think so,” he mumbles back behind the covers.
“okay, okay,” you soothe, smile not faltering, “you’re still high right now?”
bakugou grunts, “i can fuckin’ hear colours right now, yn. how do you figure me out so quickly?”
“you do realise it’s me who has to analyse what you don’t say in meetings, briefings and literally any time we’re together?”
with that, bakugou pulls the sheet down so just his ruby eyes are showing. only revealing his eyes highlights the orange specks that spark in them, even as they frown over at you. then they flick over your body, back up to your eyes.
“you look adorable.”
never in your career working with bakugou have you ever heard that word leave his mouth. adorable?
you seem to repeat that word because bakugou nods, “the boots and long socks. and skirt. ‘think it’s adorable.”
whoever said windows are the eyes to the soul are right. there’s no hint of a joke in his eyes and it doesn’t even feel flirtatious, just a genuine compliment of how he’s perceiving you. you think back to other times bakugou’s complimented you, perhaps a stiff one when you upgraded your hero uniform a few months ago? at that hero gala when you danced with him and he whispered that you looked good?
“oh, thanks? thanks.” you nod and the moment would have meant more if he wasn’t hiding half of his face with his bedsheet. “now show me your face.”
“i look ugly, yn. no.”
you cross your arms across your chest, head tilted with a grin, “why do you care? you’ve seen me looking crazy after fights too.”
bakugou glances away from you in defiance, you could definitely imagine him stomping his foot if he was standing, “because… ‘cause this is my face and it’s you!”
“so what if it’s me! i remember the last mission too, you were pretty bruised up.”
“this is a big fuckin’ scar and you can see the stitches!”
“i’ve had stitches myself before! i’m not going to think you’re ugly, you’re not ugly.”
that gets his attention, “really?”
you’re getting whiplash from this conversation, “what, no? you literally got sexiest hero two years in a row.”
bakugou rolls his eyes, “b-but you, what do you think?”
the laugh that bubbles up inside of you is mostly confusion of this whole situation. normal bakugou would not give a fuck. he’d be at work the next day, subtly showing off his battle scar, eyeing anyone who as much as cringes imagining the pain. this softer bakugou, wearing off of whatever loopy numbing drugs only surprises you.
“i think you’re very handsome? is that enough? can we have a normal conversation now?”
bakugou huffs again, laying back in his bed. you could just rip the covers off him but that sounds so very invasive when he’s so adamant on not showing you.
“who else has visited you?”
“hero commission, deku and kirishima. two sidekicks came to drop off paper work but i’ve been too out of it to even read.”
“so what’s different about them that they can see your face and i can’t?”
that’s the question that gets bakugou, thee dynamight, somehow caught in his own actions and having to work his way out of them. “i… i, er… ‘cause…”
he continues, “it’s ‘cause i like… i fuckin’…”
and again, “‘cause we, you know… and then we kinda… fuck…”
“and i… being a hero… and i think… are you gonna stop me talkin’ or?”
your bubble pops, giggles spilling out of you in a bundle. dynamight, the pro hero has always been so quick witted with his harsh languages and orders. never doubling back on his words or least of all stuttering. this drugged up bakugou katsuki can’t seem to get his words out.
“bakugou, what is going on?”
bakugou groans so loud he’s sure his hospital neighbours can hear him. thank goodness he’s not tied up to a heart monitor or that would have exposed him as soon as you walked in the room.
he lets go of the blanket to rub his face, then his eyes widen realising his sheet has dropped back to his shoulders.
bakugou moves to grab the sheet again but you’re much faster than him, simply resting your hand on his fist.
“you look—,”
“i have a crush on you. a fuckin’ massive one. for ages. dunno how you haven’t noticed.” he blurts in one breath, eyes wide and heart rapping against his chest. then he winces from talking so fast, his stitches pulling across his cheek.
you just blink at him, your hand still resting on his chest.
“is this the drugs talking—,”
“what? no yn i… do.”
awkwardness settles in the room. you’re not sure how to go about this, he did say he’s really high from the drugs and… and bakugou katsuki likes you. you pull your hand off him.
“oh fuck, this is why i wasn’t plannin’ on ever fuckin’ tellin’ you. now it’s gonna be weird and you think i’m a fuckin’ pervert and you’re gonna avoid me when you see me comin’ and—,”
“can you shut up for a second?” you smile, “you’re swearing a lot.”
the scar on bakugou’s cheek is nothing you haven’t seen before. even the purplish bruising isn’t too intense. you’ve seen much worse so you’ll probably get his doctor’s name after this.
“sorry. feelin’ nervous as fuck. i’m never fuckin’ nervous usually. it’s the drugs.”
bakugou stares point blank at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest and ignoring that you’re even there.
“i wanted to say i like you too. well my friends think i do because i talk about you all the time and the noticed how i notice how your lip twitches when someone says something stupid.” you cross your legs over the other, palms on your knee as you look around the room, the epitome of nonchalance. “i need to get on whatever healthcare plan you’re on. this is a lovely room.”
“i’ll add you on mine.” bakugou whispers, eyes stuck to you like you said his favourite words. you basically did, “s-so you do like me too, not just your friends think it?”
once your focus lands back on bakugou, his whole body flushes over with heat. red blooms at the apple of his cheeks all from your attention.
“i do like you. you’re probably my type to a t. stubborn, sexy, smart, quick witted. first blonde though,” then you lightly press your thumb under the scar under his cheek, “this is going to heal smoothly. i can already tell.”
bakugou’s breath hitches as your face shuffles in closer to him. he can feel his pulse in his temples and you notice his pupils expand from your proximity. you’re close enough to lay your lips on his, to kiss him and have his tongue slip into your mouth.
tiny sparks flicker at bakugou’s palms and your head darts down when you notice the light out the corner of your eye. there’s only five, quick snappy explosions because he’s so fucking sweaty. the sweet smell of caramel lingers in their aftermath and giggles spill from you.
bakugou clenches his fists, embarrassed, “it’s the drugs makin’ me sweat and… and… and you.” he inhales deeply and you stare as bakugou regulates himself.
deep breathing with his eyes closed, but it doesn’t last long as you slide your hand onto his clear cheek so he faces you.
“we can kiss when you’re sober.”
“no, wait. i’m fine now.” bakugou blurts, lifting onto his forearm to face you properly. he’s wobbly since his body is still numb so simply balancing is a struggle. the sheet falls down to his waist and your eyes run along the gap of his chest you can see from where his hospital robes have come undone. there’s a soft brush of chest hair that you’d love to run your fingers over. “been dreamin’ about kissin’ you.”
that comment makes you twitch, butterflies running amok inside of you. you lean back in your chair away from him, “your pupils are still massive, bakugou. promise me you’re not high right now.”
your eyes widen as if to take all of him in and bakugou surrenders easily, flopping back down on his bed. “fuck. fine, you’re right.” then he starts laughing, thick chuckles springing out of him, “i thought you didn’t wanna see my ugly face and you’re willin’ to kiss me? wouldn’t have fuckin’ thought.”
you smile, “maybe if you confessed to me earlier!”
“there was no way i was gonna. plannin’ on bringin’ it to my death bed.”
you frown incredulously, “why? literally everyone has a crush on you.”
he faces you, lingering on your crossed thighs, your knee high boots. “but you? so outta my fuckin’ league it’s embarrassin’ to even like you. deku dropped your last heroes monthly cover onto my desk and just lookin’ at you made me feel all… all gooey.”
you feel like a school girl, the swarm of butterflies earlier are now angry bees at the compliments. you want him to keep it going.
“where did you end up putting the magazine?”
“stuffed it in my drawer under my papers.” he grunts.
“didn’t touch yourself to it, did you?”
an ugly gurgle of a gasp, groan and a “hah?” rumbles from bakugou. “what? fuck no? i said i ain’t no fuckin’ pervert.”
“when i was younger i had a poster of you in my childhood bedroom. whenever i would bring boys over i’d take it down ‘cause i’d feel bad.”
bakugou scoffs. he loves that you had a poster of him, he fucking revels in it. “bad for the loser you were with?”
“no! bad for poster you seeing me makeout with some guy. like i was cheating on dynamight.”
you bite down on your lip, so harsh that any more pressure and it will bleed. that felt like way too much to admit and all you guys did was confess your crush on each other.
“you don’t know how much i love hearin’ this.”
you’re still embarrassed for even sharing that so you do the next best thing. share another secret.
“i only said that before because i bought your men’s health cover. page thirty two when you’re shirtless leaning on a tree? went double platinum in my household.”
bakugou sighs blissfully, “you’re blowin’ my head up here, yn. you see me half naked when we change into our gear on missions. you pay me no mind then.”
you laugh, “you want me to jump on you with no previous conversation whilst we are preparing to kill villains.” bakugou shrugs, “besides literally everyone thinks you’re attractive, that’s nothing new bakugou.”
bakugou narrows his eyes at you, “i don’t give a fuck about that. you said you like me. said i was fuckin’ smart and shit. i like that a lot.”
you give a satisfied hum, leaning back into your seat.
“you tell him everything?” you’re endeared by their friendship on the best of days but hearing about it from one of the double duo makes your heart warm.
bakugou winces, “yeah… kinda… comes natural between us since we’ve known each other for so long.”
“that is so adorable.”
“i guess.”
it’s silent for a few moments as you pull your skirt down from where it’s ridden up. then you take out your lip balm from your bag to smother over your bottom lip.
“w-when i’m not all fucked up and i’m outta here we’re goin’ out. gonna take you somewhere you deserve, better than any date you’ve ever been on.”
you wonder if this is the softer bakugou beneath the stubborn hero version of him you always see. him with a slippery tongue, the impatience, the need to always be the best. you’re annoyingly into it all. you hope he shows you more of him when he’s not loopy anymore.
“okay. i’d like that.”
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
based on an ask i got but accidentally deleted by @heathertheheathen123456
cw: minors dni, fwb!, smut sorta lol
you haven’t seen him in two weeks. which some people would say is fair, he’s not your boyfriend but now you’re used to bakugou katsuki. he’s part of your routine and there’s nothing worse about having a human being as a habit. especially one that’s a professional hero.
he’s a habit that you only see at night, in your bed, sometimes your sofa when you guys can’t make it to your room. sometimes he turns up to your house freshly showered and refreshed, just to have his face between your legs and leave after. sometimes he’s tired and exhausted after work, dirt smudged on his nose and to his luck you’ll get down on your knees for him.
you usually see him twice a week but now you’re about to start clawing the walls, twitching to get this man back in your house. you’ve not seen him for two weeks now, due to simple busy schedules on both sides. you’ve even got your phone out to text a guy you were seeing before bakugou but you threw your phone back on your bed in a huff. bakugou katsuki’s dick in particular is a habit.
which is why when he’s buried deep in you, hitting your sweetest spots with your knees by your temples, you’re ready to smash the phone that keeps violently ringing on your bedside table.
the man above you groans, punctuating with a thrust that has your back arching off the bed. there’s a shiny film on his forehead from the overwhelmed, overstimulated feeling he gets from you. you’re soft, you’re beautiful, you need him. bakugou just wants to enjoy you, pleasure you and perhaps have you come on his tongue right after.
but no, his fucking work phone keeps ringing and vibrating against the wood right next to framed photo of you and your friends.
“bakugou,” you whine, extending the last syllable of his name. despite your next comment, you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he thrusts again. “answer the phone before i smash it.”
bakugou gnaws down on his bottom lip, stuffing his head in your neck to flick his hips into you. he knows what a phone call from his work phone means, he also knows it’s definitely not something he should be letting go to voicemail repeatedly. people are probably under attack somewhere but imagining pulling out you now feels close to hellish.
“for fuck sake,” he says through gritted teeth.
“i’m sorry,” you mumble mindlessly, kissing behind his ear. bakugou’s chest warms as you softly blink at him. he should be the one saying that to you.
instead he grabs the vibrating device, vividly feeling his brain switching to hero mode. he just wants a day off with you.
“what?” he growls.
your eyes widen at the voice through the receiver, you’ve never heard anyone speak to bakugou like that. perhaps maybe you once when you woke up one morning and noticed the necklace of bruises he left around your neck.
“why the fuck aren’t you picking up your phone? we need you in the east side of the city, your team’s already been dispatched,”
the voice continues ranting at bakugou and to everyone’s surprise, bakugou barely says a word. he just stares down at your face, the softness, the disappointment yet understanding in your eyes. then between your bodies, where you’re both joined. he rubs his thumb over your clit once before pulling out, snapping hard as a pole against his chest. you gasp at the emptiness but bakugou tries to make up for it covering you with a blanket and shaking his head slowly.
“yeah, i’m fuckin’ comin’. i’ll set a plan when i arrive.”
he hangs up with a sigh, rubbing his hand across his face. you linger on his muscled chest, his tense shoulders and the hard thick limb standing shiny with your slick. you guess having men as sexy as this in your bed comes with its drawbacks like him needing to save the world before either of you get to come.
“fuck, i’m sorry sweetheart,” he says and you feel molten. he pulls on his underwear, not bothering to clean you off him and yanks on his jeans. he leans over your bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “i can come over after if you’re not asleep or tomorrow?”
he feels as if he’s pleading, close to begging. pausing for a moment for your answer. there’s no time for waiting and he can’t seem to get that through his hero head yet. you understand the pressure though.
“probably tomorrow, no worries. it comes with having routines with proheros, right?” you smile tucking the blanket right under your chin.
he tugs on his tshirt, “okay, cool. i’ll text you.” awkwardness settles in as he walks towards your bedroom door, about to grab his boots to dart out.
“okay.” you bite down on your lip, “i’m gonna be thinking about you while i fix the problem you left.”
bakugou’s pupils darken and you notice how he grips your door frame, “don’t test me sweetheart, you know i’m still hard for you.” he grunts, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”
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synopsis: bakugou just wants you to let him into your world
notes: minors dni, suggestive, awkward, prohero bkg and phd uni student reader, constipated feelings, class differences, something different n random n short, i like putting bkg with difficult women!
“my roommate doesn’t like it when you stay over for more than two days in a row.”
bakugou sits on the edge of your bed, just having put his white underwear back on. it’s somewhere around morning time he thinks, perhaps eleven am? staying in your flat, being in your space, thrusts him into your orbit, your time zones and your world.
he doesn’t know why exactly he likes it here, in your two bedroom apartment with your roommate he never sees but he could try to explain.
“are you kickin’ me out?” he tries to make it come across playful but insecurity seeps through.
bakugou rests his elbow on his knee and places his head in his palm as he twists over to look at you. sleepy eyes, face neutral. you’re standing, in his t-shirt that lays mid thigh on you, opening up the curtains. he doesn’t understand the concept of waking up late, opening the curtains only to fall back into bed. do you have underwear on under his t-shirt? you stretch up to yank the curtain, the circular metal part that holds the fabric getting stuck on the pole. bakugou doesn’t move to help you but now he knows you’re completely naked underneath.
you laugh, stilted, a little awkward. “no, i’m just saying she said that. the water and electricity bills are expensive.”
once you've got the curtains drawn, you stare outside the window for a moment. the buses along the road, the independent food businesses and a mini supermarket at the corner. then you potter back to your double bed and lay down again, looking over at bakugou.
bakugou went from having a privileged life as an only child with two upper middle class parents to a privileged life living alone in a penthouse in the city centre without much time to adjust to adult life. not like you did. as soon as he finished school he was given agency offers and six figure brand deals. getting paid as a pro hero is easy, sponsors always are asking for his services and he gets pretty big bonuses from the commission for being in the top five consistently. he never had to be considerate of a roommate or of his water usage.
you were only two years younger than him, a student doing your phd and somehow it feels like you’ve lived so much more than him despite having worked in all the continents and being able to afford anything he’s ever wanted. your bedroom was proof of it.
bakugou studies your trinkets along your shelves, tiny little detailed figurines in little outfits, some larger ones of your favourite characters. a hand painted porcelain animal set and vinyls hung across your wall. every book spine is a different colour, none the same shade as the last. when you’re in the shower he loves to read a blurb, a romance book to a psychology one to an art book. you’ve got postcards and cards stuck to your wall, from your friends, your family and your own travels. your room breathes life in a way his whole greyscale apartment just doesn’t.
you have the nerve to make life look easy, just laying on your bed at midday in his t-shirt.
“i fuckin’ know bills are expensive, yn.”
bakugou doesn’t though, not in the same way you’re counting cash at the end of the month and selling your boots online to get by. you just have to quirk your eyebrow at him and he grunts, fluffing up his bed head and crawling back into bed with you. back at his penthouse he would have started his day at five am, already showered, been to the gym and been at his agency doing paperwork.
“i’ll send you money if you need it. i can order breakfast in for us,” bakugou mumbles under his breath, caging you into him with both his forearms by your head.
you’re so beautiful on your striped pillow case, every scar and blemish visible on your face. the neckline of his shirt slightly hangs off your shoulder and bakugou doesn’t think before he kisses it.
“wait, that wasn’t even the point. just that she didn’t sign up to have a man hanging around here half of the week,” you inhale sharply when soft lips linger on your neck, slowly drawing a line upwards to behind your ear.
“i’ll be gone before she’s back. she’s got a lot to say when i’ve never fuckin’ met her.”
“we can feel your masculine energy change the vibe in the house. why else do we burn incense in the hallway?” you giggle and if it wasn’t for the laugh bakugou would have taken you seriously… he thinks you partly still are. his crotch presses against your stomach, but no one does anything about it.
bakugou sighs deeply, forehead resting on your shoulder though he still planks over you like the weight of him would crush you. he could just invite you over to his place, none of this would be an issue but he’s always drawn to your flat on the outskirts of town, where it’s quieter during the day and louder in the evenings. where he can see a polaroid strip of you at every age starting from thirteen. bakugou sets a mental reminder to get plants for his own home but the thought of having to throw away a dead one deems the whole idea pointless.
your laughs die down and bakugou lifts his head to stare at you. the shape of your lips, the sleepy creases around your eyes and the light hickey bruise on your neck from last night. he stares for two seconds too long before your tone changes. your body gets a little stiffer like he was so close to breaking down one of your walls and you built it back up just in time.
you’re frowning at him, a little crease between your brows and your eyes sharp.
“what? why’re you looking at me like that?”
he met you through that celebrity dating app, otherwise you would have never crossed paths. you only got on there because your friend’s cousin referred you.
“like what?” he slurs, biceps thick and tensed at your head.
bakugou can imagine being infiltrated into your room. a photo of him and you in the thrifted frame by your bed. his new men’s health cover in your magazine rack out for display. even his new figurine that came out last month, he would give you one to put on your shelf. but you always have him on the edge. the edge of your life, the edge of you.
he hears you on the phone to your friends when he arrives early to see you. everything about you is more open, smile a little larger and he always ends up hearing a random fact about you that he didn’t know before just from eavesdropping. lily pollen allergy, noted. when you have a quick conversation with your roommate in the hallway and you get through five topics in a minute. then to him you share just as much as you want to. nothing slipping through the gaps. your personality, your personhood is surrounding him in your room but you’re still not quite letting him in.
“looking like i did something wrong.”
bakugou shakes his head as your hands rubs along his bare sides, then his muscles shoulders and then you hold his cheeks. he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about you.
“you’ve not done shit wrong. just that… for fucks sake.”
he’s not fond of the tall green vine plant in the corner of your room. it always feels like it will become conscious and swipe at his ankles.
you pout a little, dragging your thumb over his eyebrow, softening bakugou out so his next words come out smooth.
“what katsuki?”
“you know i like you, right? i wanna properly date you. introduce you to my friends, meet my ‘rents?”
you nod in slow motion, eyes like a scared rabbit. this is what bakugou doesn’t know about you. the fear with commitment. where the fuck does it come from? you’re okay with your parents and siblings. you’ve had a boyfriend for three months, two years ago. is it him?
“speak, baby. you look terrified at the idea,” he breathes.
“i know you like me and i do like you, i like what we have at the moment.” you say, keeping your tone light, tilted.
bakugou groans like you whipped a wax strip off his legs, hanging his head over yours and then rolling off you.
“it’s like pullin’ teeth with you. what the fuck is it?” he flattens his palm over his face, roughly rubbing his eyes like everything will be clearer after. “did someone hurt you or somethin’? do you not want me?”
“that’s three questions, katsuki.” you’re facing the ceiling, hands clasped over your chest.
never did he think he’d be attracted to someone as emotionally constipated as himself, though he knows you’re not. he hears how you are with your friends, you tell him how you tell your friends everything.
“tell me what the issue is and i can fuck off after.”
telling a man your insecurities is like feeding wagyu to a dog. he eats it up, uses it later to bring you up and tear you down. your issues are a classic. another man ruined you, broke your heart and you’ve always struggled to come up from it. you’re not trying to be so depressed again, not over a fucking man. you can imagine how much worse the pain would be, coming from one as gorgeous and inescapable as bakugou katsuki, number 5 hero. if you date and end horribly you’d see him in your house, in your dreams, on the billboard across the road. you give him enough so he doesn’t bite.
“i’ve just got lots of uni work to do at the moment, all due in the upcoming months and i don't know if i can take on all of that and the pressure of a new relationship. what we have now is easy, ‘tsuki.” you sniff, laying on your side, resting your elbow in your mattress and head in your palm, “ask me another time when life has quietened down.”
bakugou doesn’t know how much he buys that excuse. you’re busy with uni and your part time job but you still have time for him and your friends. how much will the added boyfriend label change your life? he sinks his white teeth into his plush bottom lip, fascinated at how your eyes don’t give anything away now.
he’s got mountains of paperwork constantly, a week long mission abroad to plan for and the hero commission is up his ass for how he handled a situation last week. a photoshoot tomorrow and a brand dinner in the evening. his life is busier than yours and he can find ways to fit you in because he wants to.
“fine,” he cocks his jaw, blinking at you. bakugou gets ready to sit up again, roll out of your bed, “i’ll shower and be out your space.”
you nod, pleased with that conversation.
“not yet though. she will be back in a few hours.”
bakugou lets you pull his shoulder so he’s back laying down as you climb to straddle his waist. your crotch is bare on his toned abdomen, face a blossomed flower with your small smile like you're shy to get what you want from him. the shyness is faux but he plays into it because it gets him hard.
your palms are flat on his pectorals, fingertips brushing over his nipples before sneaking up to squeeze at his shoulder muscles. you sigh in bliss, running your thumb across the scar on his cheek.
“what do you want?” bakugou mumbles, eyes half lidded. aroused. he can see your nipples poke through his t-shirt you’ve got on and you’re chewing your lip like you’d rather be chewing him instead.
“i…,” you trail off, reaching behind you to grab at his cock beneath his underwear. his hips jolt up without warning, attempting to thrust in your palm, “i want you.”
not exactly the context he wants those words in but he’ll take it all the same.
“take the top off. sit on me.”
little headcanons of them!
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
WARNINGS: pro hero!bkg. flirty!!! that’s it really!!! minors dni
BABY DADDY MASTERLIST
YN: do you think you can look after kenji tonight?
YN: sorry it’s so last minute
YN: if not i can ask my mum
You: Sure bring him round whenever
YN: thank you!!! will be at yours in 30
once bakugou katsuki realised he has a crush on his son’s mother or his favourite term, his baby mama, all the interactions between him and you hold a new pressure. not only does he want to be the best father for his son but he wants to be the best person for you. he wants you to like him back.
so he springs up from his seat at his desk where he was just going through his paperwork and eyes the toothpaste stain on his shirt. cannot let you see that. should he take off his rectangle reading glasses? he finds a mirror in his hallway, his hair is flat. his hair is literally never flat— ever. he has to put a little product to fluff it up. and… it is so embarrassing if he does a couple push ups to bulk his arms, but you won’t know. he has caught you looking at his arms once before, gaze lingering interested. maybe he will.
bakugou is baby proofing his apartment, putting his scissors away, heavy gauntlets back in his office, loose screws in a jar, when his doorbell rings. warmth blooms throughout his chest knowing his son is on the other side and you. you’re there too. fuck.
pushing his glasses up his nose (he decided to keep them on) and raking his hands through his hair (yes, he added some product), he jogs over to his front door swinging it open.
“papa!”
the love bakugou katsuki feels for his son is like no other. even though he sees him often, three times a week, this week four, he always looks older. like a day away from him and suddenly he’s going to pop out with a baritone voice and a beard. not yet though, chubby cheeks pressed against his knee and two little arms around his calf.
kenji, looks just like him and you. obviously from having a child together but it’s truly odd to see his own baby pictures come to life. his father’s wheat blonde but less spiky, leaning more to your hair texture at the end. and instead of his ruby eyes, he’s got yours, copy and pasted.
“hey papa! me and you today!”
“hey little man, you okay kenj?” he ruffles his sons hair and like a cat, kenji leans into it.
“ya! mama going!”
then bakugou lands on you, pupils dilated. where the fuck are you going looking like that?
it’s almost amusing, you in your brown suede mini skirt, black cowl neck top showing your tits, makeup done to literal perfection, little baguette handbag on one arm and then kenji’s deku green backpack hanging off your other arm.
your lips are glossy with these cat like eyelashes at the corner of your eyes. you look seductive, like a siren able to lure bakugou out to sea to drown. he’d definitely follow. he’s so careful to mind where his eyes go, not your cleavage, the glitter on your collarbones. also not the length of your legs in those kitten heels and mini skirt. there’s even a slither of stomach and bakugou wants to bite, wants to drag you back into his house and—
wait, where the hell are you going?
“thanks for taking him last minute! i completely forgot i had plans tonight.” you say, and your smile has bakugou’s next breath shaky.
it must be only him in the whole world who has a crush on his baby mama. the woman he’s never dated, only had sex with on a one night stand and has a whole child with.
bakugou sniffs, letting go of kenji so he can run off probably to all the toys he keeps in the living room.
“no problem, always wanna spend more time with him.” he states, crossing his arms. his pupils are about to drop past your chin when he blurts, “you’re not gonna be cold?”
you laugh, loud and sharp, “of course you’d say that. don’t worry, my jacket is in my car.”
“ah okay. you look good,” bakugou cringes inwardly. how the fuck did he flirt his way into your space the first time he met you? it’s been two years now and there’s almost no improvement. can you even be called friends?
you roll your eyes, clearly amused by him.
“thanks katsuki. i wanted to ask if you have any blister plasters? i feel one coming on.” you lift your left foot off the ground for a second, “first time wearing these!”
an excuse to scan the length of your legs, your smooth thighs, ankles, your feet in your little maroon kitten heels. are you going on a date?
a cough rumbles through bakugou, then he nods, “yeah, come inside. i’ll get you one.”
kenji is in the living room, surrounded by big puzzle blocks he’s cutely failing at putting together. “papa!” he shouts, running into the hallway to see you following after bakugou. kenji’s head tilts, a frown, “mama? here?”
a million thoughts rush through bakugou, reasons he can’t date you even if you ever want him back. kenji finds it weird that you’re even in this space. two spaces, mama’s house and papa’s house. everything about how you’ve parented kenji so far has been separate, very clearly separate.
“i’m leaving in a sec, kenj. just getting something from your papa.” and you perch up on a kitchen stool as bakugou reaches into his kitchen cupboard for the blister plasters. kenji comes to stand by you, two chunky puzzle pieces in hand.
“i brought his new books with him and these yoghurt raisins he’s been loving recently incase you didn’t have any,” you hum, resting your hand on kenji’s shoulder.
“damn, always changin’ his favourites. i just bulk bought those dino crackers,” bakugou sighs but it’s all love as he circles his island counter and gets down on his knees before you.
you’re in shock, jumping and crossing your legs over the other, “you don’t have to put it on me? i can do it?”
a hot hand on your ankle and your whole body vibrates with interest. you’re grateful your son deems the situation boring, toddling off back into the living room.
now bakugou katsuki, your baby father, the man who’s half your son and carries half of your sons last name is stupidly gorgeous. there’s a reason why you ended up in bed with him that one and only time, with his thick arms, you can see a two veins running through each of them and his eyes make you want to moan. a deep ruby red that practically twinkle when they look at you. his attention makes you feel powerful, probably the reason he’s so good at running a hero agency, you’d comfortably leave your life in his hands.
and now, with those nerdy cute glasses on his nose bridge, somehow looking like a model with his fluffed up hair and the sight of dino crackers in a tub behind him labelled ‘KENJI’S SNACKS BACK OFF!!’ made by your son, makes you swoon.
you’re the definition of flustered with this strong, domestic, burly man on his knees with a blister plaster in his hand. he could see directly up your skirt if he wanted to.
“nah, it’s fine. this shit doesn’t bother me.” he blinks expectantly waiting for you to hand him your foot.
swears only when your child is away. you wearing your slutty little outfit with this gorgeous man in his sweats and somehow you feel like a princess with him sliding a glass slipper onto your foot.
“you gonna let me or do you wanna just do it?” he removes his hand from your ankle.
you’ve seen clips of bakugou in action. mostly when it’s on the news, always making sure kenji doesn’t see bakugou covered in blood or shouting orders on tv. how sure of himself he stands, the strength he holds when he blasts a villain that multiple pro heroes couldn’t crack. sometimes you drop kenji off to his agency just before bakugou’s about to leave and you see him in all his glory. the boots that give him an extra couple inches, the tight black material that sucks him in and highlights every ab and pectoral. you remember how he nods a hello to you in those moment, with a boyish smirk like he knows what you’re thinking.
you think your baby father is sexy. so what.
you shake your head to rid your thoughts but bakugou takes that to mean you want him off. he adjusts to get up but you place your hand on his shoulder. the movement has him lifting his head to you, lips parted like he was ordered.
“no, i mean it’s fine. just wasn’t expecting it.” then you uncross your leg from over your other. then you joke with a finger pointed at him, “don’t look up my skirt. i wore it hoping nobody will be seeing me from this angle.”
bakugou visibly gulps at that, head ticking, “i fuckin’ hope not.”
calloused finger tips take your calf and with one hand, big fingers fiddle with your heel buckle. you’re almost sure it’s not possible for him to take it off but then it’s swiftly removed and onto the floor.
you blink at him, “what?”
bakugou carries the focus of a trained professional as he studies the sensitive skin around your heel. he ignores your confusion, “where are you goin’ tonight?”
it’s like whiplash, his question so quick after yours. you barely register what he says before you answers, “club in the city. it’s new, apparently has a live jazz band.”
bakugou grunts, wiping the area with a disinfectant wipe. “who with?”
your smile is slow, a realisation forming that you can’t completely confirm yet. “why are you asking that, katsuki?”
then he glances up at you, bottom lip plump and red. you hate that you can still remember what it’s like to kiss him.
“wanna make sure my baby mama is safe. not hangin’ around fuckin’ creeps.”
“ah, you’re asking for kenji?”
you can’t read his eyes yet but there’s a spark of amusement fluttering through them, “sure, let’s use that excuse.”
you roll your eyes and he carefully, lays the plaster on the area. “with a friend.”
“is it a date?” and it’s the nagging at the back of bakugou’s head that makes him ask, the fact he’s needs to know. dying to know.
now you really laugh, undecided if you want to toy with him or not. “and if it is?”
to that bakugou rises to his feet and seated, he feels even taller than usual. the whiff of bakugou’s scent, that caramel sugary scent, reminds you of that night two years ago when he was thrusting into you so sweetly that you could barely remember your name after.
“i hope it’s awful,” he grunts and he feels like a teenager. not a grown ass man and not someone’s grown ass father. he doesn’t know why his finger lands your chin, angling your head to face him. you don’t know why you let him, lips parted like his will land on yours. ruby eyes flicker to your eyes to your lips and the need for contact is imminent.
“you’re so stupid,” you mumble and when you realise the position you’re in, that your son is only next door, you pull away from bakugou katsuki.
bakugou’s left standing where you left him as you scramble away, pulling your shoe back on and buckling it back up with a single hand. you adjust your skirt and you go back into mum mode. “he might ask for something sweet but don’t give it to him, i already gave him ice cream earlier. also ask him about quirk training at school, you’re so much more suited to helping him with that.”
bakugou crosses his arms across his chest. if you want to pretend there’s nothing between you both as you go and meet another man, then sure. he gives you a slow nod, “i will. enjoy your date, yn. though i’m not sure green goes with brown.”
you frown glancing down at your outfit. black cowl neck top, brown suede mini skirt, maroon kitten heels. green where?
“mama! you still here?” kenji appears walking back to you, this time the tv remote in his hand, “you didn’t say bye mama.”
“i was just about to!” you bend down to your sons height, ignoring bakugou’s gaze. “i’m gonna pick you up tomorrow morning, okay? ready for football tomorrow. don’t ask papa for any ice cream, i’ve already told him.”
kenji pouts before landing a big kiss on the top of your head just like where you and bakugou always kiss him. you laugh at the motion, landing a soft kiss on his cheek, “okay, kenj? see you!” you rise and your son begins to wave.
“bye mama!”
bakugou leads you to his front door and green, green, green, still shakes through you until you realise. your fucking green underwear. you spin round with a gasp, bakugou almost falling into you as you halt. stabilising himself with his hand on the wall right beside your head. kenji is still standing behind him, waiting for you to go.
you’re again so close to bakugou, chest to chest and with the realisation that you know what he meant, a smirk grows on his face. so fucking sexy.
“you’re a perv,” you whisper scolding him, finger pointed but it only makes bakugou pretend to bite it by clashing his teeth together.
“have a good night, yn,” he replies, walking forwards as you walk backwards out, “i mean it.”
“BYE MAMA!”
“bye kenj!” and then to bakugou, “i’m watching you.”
“fuckin’ love to hear that.”
— likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world!
i think that bakugou can speak up to 13 languages fluently not including his native language, english and JSL (he was going deaf but he would make sure he could still cuss anyone out).
i think it frustrates the absolute shit out of him the most when he can't speak to someone or understand what they are saying. it annoys him even more when he's reading something and he has to use google fucking translate to understand what it says.
it starts in his second year of ua, he had a internship abroad, probably in some european country like, italy or france. and not being understood in japanese is sure, fine whatever. but not being understood in english? isn't that a common fuckin language abroad?
having to type out on translate what he wanted to say so that someone could just get that he wanted a fuckin coffee and a crossiant for breakfast grated every part of his nerves.
so he learns italian, then he finds out spanish and portugese are similar so he picks that up too. accent is perfect, words are pronounced perfectly, he barely even stutters. and the cherry on top was that he curses just as fluently in those languages as well.
after he mastered that, he learned french. he hated it. it was too much in the back of his throat. but surprisingly was the fastest he learned a language. and even he could admit it was beautiful to hear, especially in the music he would listen to.
when out on a mission in the stan countries (kyrgyzstan, uzbekistan, kazakhstan), he was practically forced into learning russian. that had taken him the longest, they weren't lying about it being one of the hardest languages to learn. the pronunciation had thrown him off completely, not to mention learning an entirely new alphabet had sent him into a whole new spiral.
but like he fucking says, impossible is not a word in his dictionary so of course he masters it.
the next few languages he learned out of spite, sero had taken a year in the phillipines and came back practically fluent in tagalog. and the day that sero fucking hanta could do something that he couldnt would be a day of reckoning. so of course he learnt it, and blew him out of the park with how he spoke.
chinese and korean were mastered by izuku, and that was enough for him to learn. half the reason was because he started rambling in different languages and like he said it pissed him off not being able to understand someone. learning those were relatively easier, though they were hard for others, a lot of the language was similar to japanese. and practicisng with izuku made it easier for him to pick it up.
learning hindi had happened when mina and denki had started randomly speaking, yeah you heard that right, those two idiots actually spoke something other than stupidity -- ha, good joke. he had no idea why they started learning, or when they became so fluent in it. they could barely string a setence together in english without it being grammatically incorrect. but hell if he was gonna be the one who didn't understand them.
similar to russian, he had done two years in africa, where he picked up arabic and swahili. those challenged him the most, swahili sounded the most different from all the other languages he had learned.
taking two years abroad in africa had brought about arabic and swahili. arabic was challenging with how many things affected a word in arabic, not only that he was trying to learn different dialects while they potentially mixed it with another language.
swahili was a pleasant challenge, and he enjoyed speaking with the kids and the family he lived with. he found it easy to learn because they would teach him how to cook while learning the language. the family he lived with reminded him of his dad, keeps in touch with them till this day.
by 24 he was fluent in those languages, reading and writing were the easiest to practice. writing he barely had time for, but when he did he tried his best. focusing on languages that actually had symbols or didn't look like english words.
in the years following, he picked up swedish and german just for the fun of it. his friends thought he was psychotic, he just wanted to make sure that if he cussed you out you'd know just how much he mean't it. language be fuckin damned.
you’re trying to fold laundry, a mountain of his black shirts and your softer things, and he’s being a pest. a large, immovable pest. he’s leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, just watching you with that lazy, heavy-lidded gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. you’re already stressed from the day, the damn grocery delivery was wrong again, and his mere presence, so calm and amused, is grating. "could you not?" you snap, not looking at him, aggressively shaking out one of his shirts. "you’re just standing there, it’s creepy." his smirk only widens. he pushes off the doorframe and comes to stand behind you, his chest to your back, his big hands sliding around your waist. you stiffen, still annoyed. "toji, i’m busy." he just hums, nuzzling into the space behind your ear, his stubble scratchy. "know you are, sweetheart. just watchin’ my wife work. ain’t a crime, is it?" you elbow him lightly, but he doesn’t budge, just chuckles, a low rumble against your spine. he loves this, loves the way your irritation makes you all sharp edges and fire. he’ll stand there and take your little jabs all day, just to feel the heat coming off you.
another happens in the car, after some stupid fundraiser thing he was forced to attend. you’re fuming in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window at the blurring city lights. "i can’t believe you," you seethe, your voice tight. "you spent the entire night by the buffet, shoveling crab puffs into your mouth like you’d never eaten before. i was talking to the satoru’s wife and you just made that gross grunting noise when i introduced you." he’s driving one-handed, the other resting on the wheel, looking utterly pleased with himself. "was hungry," he says simply, like that explains everything. "and that woman talks too much, my grunt said more than her entire speech." you whirl on him. "you are impossible, you freak!" he just glances over, that infuriating, fond glint in his eye. "your freak, baby." and damn him, because he is. he loves the way your anger makes your eyes flash, the way you get all worked up over things he considers trivial. it’s a world he’ll never quite understand, and he adores watching you navigate it, even if you’re navigating it right onto his head.
then there’s the real fights. the ones that aren’t about crab puffs or laundry. the ones where real, genuine hurt is involved. you’re crying, and you’re angry that you’re crying, and you’re yelling, and he’s just… taking it. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head down, listening to every word. he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to defend himself. because this? this is different. this is your heart laid bare, and the anger is just the wrapper for the pain. and he loves that, too, in a much deeper, more fucked up way. he loves that you trust him enough to show him the raw, ugly, real parts. that you know he can take it. that you know he’ll still be there after, to pick up the pieces he probably broke. when your voice finally cracks and the fight drains out of you, leaving you shaky, he’ll finally move. he’ll pull you into his lap, your face against his neck, and hold you so tight it’s almost painful. "i know," he’ll murmur into your hair, his voice rough. "i’m sorry, wife. i’m so sorry." he’ll sit there and rock you until you’re both calm, worshipping the very anger that he caused.
and oh, when that frustration translates to the bedroom. it’s his absolute favorite. when you shove him back onto the bed, your eyes blazing, and climb into his lap, all that pent-up energy looking for an outlet. "you’re gonna sit there," you command, hands on his chest, "and you’re not gonna move." his grin is pure sin, all sharp canines and dark promise. "yes, ma’am." and then you’re riding him, not for his pleasure, but for yours. taking your stress out on him, using his body to work out every last bit of that mad. your nails dig into his pecs, your hips grind down hard, almost punishing. and he’s in heaven. head thrown back, a guttural groan ripped from his throat as he watches you, all furious and beautiful above him. "that’s it, sweetheart," he’ll rasp, his hands coming to grip your hips, not to guide you, just to feel the force of your movements. "use me, take it all out on me. fuckkk, just like that." he loves being your tool, your stress relief. he loves the possessiveness in your anger, the way you claim him so aggressively.
the morning after a fight, he’s always extra clingy. you’ll be making coffee, still a little quiet, the remnants of last night’s tension a fine mist in the kitchen. he’ll come up behind you, his arms winding around your waist, his face burying in your neck. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just holds you, breathing you in. "made your coffee extra sweet," he mumbles against your skin, a peace offering. you sigh, leaning back into his solid warmth, the last of your anger melting away. "you’re lucky i love you," you mutter, but there’s no heat left in it. he nuzzles closer, a contented sound in his chest. "the luckiest." he’s whipped, utterly gone for you, and these moments of quiet after the storm are what solidify it for him. he craves the entire cycle—the spark, the explosion, and the calm, tender aftermath that only the two of you share.
it’s the little things, too. when you get mad at a video game and chuck the controller at the couch (never at him, you’re not stupid). he’ll just blink slowly from his spot, stretched out like a big cat, and say, "controller do somethin’ to you, baby?" and when you huff and pout, he’ll reach out and hook a finger in the waistband of your sweats, pulling you down on top of him. you’ll struggle for a minute, all irritated squirms, but he just holds you tighter, laughing into your hair. "my angry little wife," he coos, and it should be condescending but it’s just unbearably fond. he’ll kiss your temple, your cheek, until you stop fighting and go boneless against him. he finds your tiny, everyday frustrations endlessly entertaining and endearing.
and he loves pushing your buttons on purpose, just to see you get that look. he’ll deliberately leave his wet towel on the bed, right on your side. he’ll drink the last of the orange juice and put the empty carton back in the fridge. he’ll come in from a job and track a little dirt on the clean floor. all just to see your nose scrunch up, to hear that indignant little gasp before you start in on him. "toji fushiguro! what is wrong with you?" he’ll just lean against the wall, crossing his arms, a picture of pure masculine satisfaction. "lots of things, wifey. you married ‘em all." he’s baiting you, and you both know it. it’s his fucked-up version of foreplay, his way of ensuring he’ll get that specific brand of fiery attention later. he’s a simple man with complex wants, and the biggest one is you, in any mood, but especially when you’re all his, even in your rage.
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