Sidney!

it depends on the day but sometimes it's a tap, or just a shove. if it irritates you or not, he won't stop unless you directly confront him.

he does it sparingly, however. only if he's passing by, not if he's coming towards you.

he just really dotes on your face slash head, though. he'll tap your forehead whenever you're not getting it, boop your nose with a shit-eating grin, grab your attention by poking the back of your head.

he'll rest his chin on the top of your head when he's tired ( preferring it over your shoulder most days ), kiss the top of your head whenever he's saying goodbye, place his hand on the top of your head and turn you to face him so he can kiss you.

19:54, he’d come in the house bitchin’ about some trainee that was assigned to shadow him at work getting in the way of him fighting villains, to which of course you tried to comfort him! but he dismissed you with a single sentence “going to get changed.” you hated when he’d let things happened at work, determine the energy that he’d bring in the house. plus- his mindless rambling lead him to be shedding his gauntlets and the rest of his hero uniform down to his boxers in a trail to your shared bedroom. leaving you to trail behind him and pick it up in annoyance.

strike one.

the stoves screen read 21:36, you placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of the already grumpy man along with a slice of garlic bread. you didn’t miss the way he smacked his teeth when he seen what was in the bowl. “this shit again?” he looked up at you with a confused expression, then he eyes leaving yours as he sighed dramatically, picked up the fork and took a bite. “swear it gets saltier every time i fuckin’ eat it…” he thought he mumbled to himself but you heard him loud and clear.

strike two.

you don’t even know what time it was now. you sat on the couch next to katsuki, but left some space in between the two of you. he was occupied with some action movie on the tv while you were trying to read some essay on substack. trying to read with the loud gunshots and blurts of profanity every five seconds while the tv was on volume 36 was driving you insane!

you took the remote and turned it down to 20. katsuki’s face twisted up as he looked over at you, “the fuck? what did you do that for?” he asked with some bite to his tone. you set the remote back down in between the two of you and went back to read on your phone, “too loud.” you spared him only two words, which really ticked him off. “okay? then go in the bedroom or some shit? don’t turn the fuckin’ tv down?” he grabbed the remote and turned it back up to 36.

you could go in the bedroom - but you didn’t want to! it’s just having the human decency of being considerate about what those around you are doing! “i don’t want to be in the bedroom right now, stop being such a dick!” you took the remote from him and turned it back down to 20, setting it back down in the gap between you. “if i’m being a dick, then you’re being a bitch!” he spat out taking the remote and turning it up to 40, and instead of putting in back on the couch he held the remote in his hand.

strike three.

this might be a little self indulgent but i feel like katsuki’s sort of a sub, sometimes. he might not realize it, but he still is. he likes being told what to do, he likes having you guide him through it. he’ll ask you a billion times “am i doing it right, baby?” “can i keep going?” and a favorite personal “can i cum?” and he comes up with that all by himself. you don’t even fucking say anything, he just asks you if he can cum every. fucking. time. and if you don’t say yes, i promise, he won’t cum. he’ll hold back. and on occasion, you’ll hit him with a “good boy” that’ll have him seeing stars.

he still has a bit of his attitude though. he’ll fucking complain if you say no. he’ll groan, and roll his eyes, but he’ll hold back. he likes being told he’s doing good.

even if he didn't show it, bakugo was thrilled to finally let you into his home.

you had been together for nearly two years at this point and your lease for your own place was ending, so why not move in with him? you were shocked when he proposed the idea, but agreed after barely a second thought. you loved him, he loved you...you spent most night's at bakugo's place anyway so there really wouldn't be a difference, would there?

you already had so much of your stuff there! a whole cabinet of snacks in his kitchen and a drawer of your things in the bathroom. whenever bakugo does the laundry, most of his basket consists of your clothes instead of his. and that stupid fluffy blanket you left draped over the couch? his friend's laughed at it when the two of you got together because it was very much not 'bakugocore'...whatever the hell that meant.

one evening after coming home from a particularly rough patrol, bakugo barely took off his boots before some ridiculously sweet smell filled his nose. he could immediately tell you were lighting a candle, but looked up to see his place more...decorated.

"what the hell...?" he grumbled under his breath, stumbling further into his apartment.

a purple rug now sat under under the coffee table. a framed photo of the two of you from your first anniversary dinner hanging above the dining room table in a spot where he said we would put a clock -to which he never did.

some of your knick knacks he remembered seeing in your room arranged cutely on the tv-stand. in addition to that blanket you left on his couch all that time ago sat three new throw pillows.

'hey..." bakugo kissed your cheek as you sat hunched over the dining room table, sorting through some papers. work related? lease related? he had no clue nor did he care much for it anyway. "i see you were busy getting cozy."

you nodded with a soft smile at him. "mhm. i've always told you your place looked so dull. look how much more colourful it is now! i also got you a new spice rack because you were complaining non-stop about the old one."

shifting to sit beside you, bakugo leaned his arm against the table to rest his chin in his palm. damn, he could get used to this. coming home and the first thing he sees is you...amazing view, really. "yeah, guess it is. but you didn't need to, i could have fixed it no problem."

"but you didn't!" you sing-songed to him and boy, did his heart melt. "oh, i found this fantastic side table on sale quite close from facebook market place. can we go visit the seller and pick it up tomorrow? i think it will look great next to that new lamp that came in the other day."

"yeah, anything you want," he nodded. and bakugo meant it. his apartment was now as much yours and it was his. and for the first time, bakugo truly felt at home in his own apartment.

they are GAY gyaru gals (with eachother to be specific)

you’re RIGHT!

You randomly decide to bake a cake for Bakugou on father's day.

You aren't pregnant, you aren't even married, still in the middle of your masters, but decide Bakugou is a good enough man, you'd bake him a cake on any day.

You don't really put a lot of thought into the sentiment, more focused on picking the flavour and getting to work.

Pulling out cake mix, you looked through your options; vanilla, chocolate, cheesecake, red velvet, earl gre—deciding to stick with chocolate, basic and well within your skill level.

You: Do you remember what day it is? 8:34 am.

Suki💕😋: what do you take me for? 8:34 am.

You: Was just reminding. Come home soon, I've got a surprise. 8:43 am.

Suki💕😋: What do you mean?! 8:43 am.

Suki💕😋: Quit fooling around, what does that mean ??!! 8:45 am

It doesn't take long for it to be done, still resting in the oven by the time you are done plating dinner.

───────────────────────────────

You leaned over the kitchen counter, donned in his t-shirt and a pair of underwear, scooping a spoonful of cake, "Happy father's day, Katsuki." You grinned, not bothering to wait for him to join you, as you hummed at the taste of the cake.

Bakugou feels his heart thumping against his ribcage, implications of the sweet desert setting into his bones, the message— the surprise, you utterly relaxed in his kitchen, the chocolate smudged against the corner of your mouth.

He imagines it, for a brief moment, family of three instead of two, next year, may be father's day, a teeny tiny version of you, perched on the kitchen counter, cake smudged on the corner of the tiny mouth, maybe everywhere, on the bib, on the soft cheeks, your hands too, you giggling as you tried to control the chaos, probably begging him to take the pictures while the image for home settled into his soul.

Your call for his name brings him back to present, back to family of two, back to the kitchen you stood so carefree in.

"Katsuki," You whined, the spoon clinking against the plate as you abandoned it, stepping around the table to reach for him instead, "my cooking isn't that bad." Huffing, you pulled him towards the kitchen counter, "Try some before you chang—"

Your words are cut off with an umpf, Bakugou pulling you close, lips smushed messily against yours, licking whatever remnants of chocolatey sweetness coated your mouth.

He groaned against your skin, one hand cradling the side of your head, keeping your lips locked against his own, the other slid down to rest on your waist, thumb tracing shapes on your belly.

"Drivin' me insane," he hummed, peppering kisses on your face, from your temple to your cheeks to your chin, not even an inch of skin untouched by his lips, "Can't believe there's going to be two of you."

What.

"What?" You pulled back, brows furrowed as you placed your hand flat on his chest, confused eyes meeting his cherry red ones, "What are you talking about?"

"The baby?" He looked at you, like you were the crazy one, his palm fully settled on your lower belly, gently pressing against the skin, "The surprise you were talking about, cake on father's day?"

"The cake was the surprise," You watched his expression fall, leaning forward as he settled his suddenly heavy head against your shoulder, "Katsuki, did you think this was a pregnancy announcement?"

He weakly nodded his head, still tucked away in the crook of your neck, breathing shallow against your skin.

"I am sor—"

Instantly his head shot up, face cradled in his palms, "Don't, this was a misunderstanding on my end." He pulled you closer, cheek smushed against your forehead, swaying gently.

"Contemplated the possibility of mini-us for 5 hours start." He sighed, pulling you towards the kitchen, grabbing a clean spoon for you while he took your used one, humming in delight as he took a bite of the cake.

"Well, if it makes it any better, we could try for next year."

Oh, that would definitely make it better.

not kissing! but i did do this sketch sheet of them :3

Golden. Thick. Scarred.

Which wasn't exactly surprising.

Years of brutal training. Endless patrols. Rescue missions that left him carrying concrete slabs like they weighed nothing.

A body like his wasn't built overnight.

It was earned.

Still...

You weren't exactly thinking about any of that.

Not when your face was currently squished against one of them.

"...Comfortable?" his voice rumbled from somewhere above you.

You hummed, nuzzling deeper into the warm muscle.

"Mhm."

"...You're usin' my arm like a damn pillow."

"'Cause it is."

A scoff. "Brat"

You were also convinced half of Japan wanted these arms.

The skin-tight hero costume certainly didn't help.

Every interview. Every press conference. Every rescue caught on camera had people online collectively losing their minds whenever he crossed his arms or flexed without realizing it.

Sure you loved his arms but the rest of Japan loved those arms for entirely similar reasons.

The hero rankings practically exploded every time a new agency photo dropped.

Reporters somehow managed to ask the most ridiculous questions just to keep him standing in front of cameras a little longer.

You'd seen the edits.

The thirst compilations.

The embarrassingly dedicated fan accounts.

Sometimes you were pretty sure the cocky bastard made it worse on purpose.

Coming home straight from the agency after squeezing in one last workout.

Veins standing out beneath tanned skin.

Sleeves rolled up just a little tighter around his arms than usual, buttons looking one deep breath away from surrendering.

Just enough to watch your traitorous eyes linger a little too long, smirking like he already knew where the night was going.

But none of that compared to the mornings.

Those belonged entirely to you.

Just with Katsuki.

Soft around the edges in a way the rest of the world would never believe.

Sleep-mussed blond hair sticking up in every direction.

Grey sweatpants hanging low enough to make you question his intentions early morning.

You shuffled into the kitchen, still half asleep, and without a word your hand found its usual place, giving his ass a lazy squeeze.

"Morning, beautiful."

He barely reacted anymore, already used to it.

Just huffed out a quiet laugh beneath his breath, the sound rough with sleep as he continued flipping the breakfast pan.

"Mornin', pretty," he rasped.

Your smile widened.

Naturally, your next move was to latch onto his arm.

Both hands wrapped around his bicep as you shamelessly buried your face into it.

"Hungry," you mumbled giving a playful nibble to his arm.

"For breakfast?"

"...Eventually."

His brow lifted.

You were already staring again.

Your gaze wandered shamelessly over broad shoulders, across his chest, down the defined planes of his waist before settling—once again—on those stupidly huge biceps.

He caught you. Of course he did.

That infuriatingly handsome arrogant half-smirk tugged at his lips.

"...See somethin' you like?"

Before you could get another word in, he hooked an arm around your waist.

The world tipped.

One effortless lift-

And suddenly you were sitting on the kitchen counter.

Somehow, he still towered over you.

"...Tch."

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

"Greedy little thing."

His hands settled against your hips as he stepped between your knees, amusement dancing in crimson eyes.

"just gonna keep starin'..."

He leaned in, big hands already parting your legs and trailing higher.

"...or you gon' work f'it baby?"

Prohero!Bakugo who had big biceps.

Strong enough to lift cars.

Strong enough to tear through concrete.

Strong enough to save lives.

The rest of Japan admired them because they made him a hero.

You loved them the best when no matter what...

they always found their way around you.