this is stela 2.0

summary: katsuki had a wet dream about you — and now he can’t get the image out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. and when you find out? you’re sure as hell not making it easy for him.

warnings: best friend!katsuki, best friend!reader, reader is shameless, reader is down BAD, teasing, flirting, cursing, dirty talk, wet dream, smut, blowjob, gagging, spit, dom!katsuki, bratty!sub!reader, degradation, “this is a bad idea” typa fic, MDNI;

wc: 2,3k

Katsuki Bakugou has a best friend problem.

And it isn’t the kind of problem that can be solved by just talking about it, like normal friends do.

No. This is pretty difficult to solve.

Why?

One, because Katsuki doesn’t even talk about feelings or problems most of the time. He just bottles them up until something new appears and then forgets about whatever bothered him before.

And two, he definitely won’t talk about how a wet dream with his best friend made him feel.

Yeah. A wet dream.

He hasn’t had one of those since he was a fucking teenager, and it makes him feel so stupid. He is a grown man, for God’s sake. An established pro-hero. A respected one. And more recently?

A fucking loser.

A loser who now struggles to even meet your eyes while you’re having a simple conversation, because every time he does, he remembers how you looked in his dream — naked and sweaty and so fucking eager to suck him off.

cw: mdni, nsfw, teacher!midoriya izuku, praise kink, p in v sex, so many praises

It started completely innocently. In the bedroom, Izuku is just like he is in everything else—analytical, observant, and intensely focused on you. He notices every gasp, every shiver, every bite of your lip, and he can't help but vocalize his findings.

"You're doing so good for me," he'd murmur against your throat one night, his calloused hands gripping your hips. "That's it... you feel incredible, you know that?"

You'd always been a confident woman, but the way those soft, breathless words hit you made your brain completely short-circuit. Heat flooded your cheeks, your core clenched hard around him, and a desperate, pathetic little whine slipped past your lips before you could catch it.

You buried your face in his shoulder, embarrassed by your own reaction—but your body betrayed you entirely, squeezing him again, tighter, chasing the ghost of his approval. You realized right then and there that you craved it. That you needed him to say it again. That you'd do anything to hear it again.

I almost burned my house down cause I got distracted making this 🫠

cw: MDNI, semi nsfw, pro hero bf!eijiro kirishima, size difference, manhandling

thinking about how kirishima loves the size difference between you two.

When you first started dating Kirishima, you were struck by how gentle he was despite his massive frame. At 6'3" with a hero build that's all muscle and broad shoulders, he moves with surprising care around you. He's constantly mindful of his strength, always opening doors for you, helping you reach high shelves, and making sure he doesn't accidentally knock you over when he turns too quickly.

In public, he's the perfect gentleman – protective but not possessive, strong but gentle. He'll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you close, but his touch is always careful, measured. He's the type to carry your shopping bags with one hand while holding yours with the other, his large thumb stroking the back of your hand in a way that makes you feel cherished.

But behind closed doors, that careful restraint begins to crack. You've noticed how his eyes darken when you have to stand on your toes to kiss him, how his breathing hitches when you wrap both your hands around just one of his biceps and still can't circle it completely. He loves the size difference between you, loves how small you look against his massive frame.

“papa, mama says you have a bedtime too, is that true?,” asks your daughter, cute little cherub, genuinely confused. 

katsuki bakugo groans, body weak from all the hero work. 

“yeah, an hour after yours,” replies katsuki. 

just then, your princesses eyes go big and mouth drops, truly amused at the realisation her high and mighty dad goes to bed so early. 

she puts her fingers on his cheeks, tilting her head. katsuki returns the favour, holding her a little closer to him, her head laying on his chest.

“should we brush our teeth together then? it’s almost my bed time,” asks your daughter. 

“whatever you want princess” 

they both go to the bathroom, but just then your daughter motions you over to come brush your teeth with them too. 

“mama, you too!,” 

you walk up to the two of them, your daughter a total carbon copy of katsuki. did your genes even try? they both go to put the toothpaste on their brushes - katsuki’s electric one, and your daughter with her hello kitty one. 

your daughter grabs out your toothbrush too, putting a bit too much on the brush, and hands it to you with the most endearing smile ever. 

“oh thank you, sweetheart” 

katsuki smiles in between the motion of brushing his teeth, usual tough boulder all gone to dust. his hands grab onto your waist, and he pulls you closer to him. even while brushing your teeth he’s clingy. 

your daughter is sitting on the sink, exceptionally precise whilst brushing her teeth. as she goes to spit out the excess, her big curious eyes land on the sight that is you and katsuki blushing at each other. 

“mama and papa are flirting!” yells your daughter. 

“no we are not!”

he likes the way you look down there. kneeling between his legs, pretty mouth wrapped around two of his fingers, lashes low, cheeks hollowed out just a little—like you’re trying to make it more obscene for him.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters.

his fingers press deeper as your lips stretch around them, drool beginning to gloss your chin. he growls low in his throat when you gag just a little around the second knuckle, just enough to make your throat flutter.

“mm, yeah?” he smirks. “that’s what you like?”

you nod. and that’s when he pulls them out.

your breath catches, tongue still out, mouth glossy and wet. you’re waiting—lips parted, flushed, like you know he’s about to—

spit.

right on your tongue.

his fingers go back in before you’ve even swallowed. deeper this time. he presses his thumb to your cheek, watches it bulge with pressure—groans when your eyes flutter, when you gag again, just a little messier now.

you whine around his hand, shifting on your knees, thighs squeezing together like you can’t help it anymore, and he can see the way you’re clenching, needy and soaked with barely a single word said.

he likes that you’ve waited. that you let him do this first.

but he’s hard now, and he can’t watch your mouth like this for much longer.

he slides his fingers free, watches the spit string between your lips and his knuckles before he grabs your jaw—tilts it up—and forces you to meet his eyes.

your mouth stays open, breathless and eager, like you’re still waiting for more.

“fuckin’ look at you,” he mutters, palm grazing your jaw. his thumb presses to your bottom lip. drags it down. watches it bounce back into place.

“you want it that bad?”

you nod. just the tiniest tilt of your head, too fucked-out from nothing, too needy to speak.

he loves how fast you go soft for him. how much you let him play with you. how good your mouth looked stretched around his fingers—red and glossy and obedient.

but he’s been patient. too patient.

he slides his waistband lower, frees his cock from the tight cling of pants, and it’s heavy when it hits the air—thick, flushed, already wet at the tip.

your eyes go wide, just for a second, and he notices.

“what? sucked on my fingers for so long you forgot what comes next?”

and then he’s guiding you in—fist curled around the base, other hand tangled in your hair, holding you steady as you open up again, until the tip just barely slips past your lips.

he hisses through his teeth. “that’s it... open up f’me.”

his cock drags across your tongue, warm and twitching, and your jaw aches trying to take more.

“god, your fuckin’ mouth—”

his hand tightens in your hair when you gag softly, enough for your throat to clench around him.

“should’ve started like this.”

you try to move—to bob your head, take more, do something—but he’s already holding you there, shallow little thrusts of his hips pressing him just a little deeper each time.

your spit’s already dripping down your chin. your thighs are pressed tighter together like you can’t stand how wet you are.

he grits his teeth and lets out a low, shaky breath like he’s barely holding himself back.

“fuck,” he mutters, thumb brushing your cheek.

“don’t worry, baby—”

his voice dips. “i’ll make it up to you after. promise.”

Two taned shins came into view.

They looked up to find Kirishima leaning over them, with a huge grin on his face.

"What are you two doin' down there?" he asked, amused.

Denki flopped down beside them. "Yeah, what are we doing?"

"Existing," Suki murmured, with a relaxed smile on her face.

"We're recharging our energy for the practical exam later," Mina added, taking a deep, calm breath... then exhaled in a long, theatrical groan: "Also, apparently, we're fighting the teachers, which is, y'know, totally normal for first years. But I'm not panicking! I'm totally fine. Super fine!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking another deep breath...

Suki bit her lip, holding back a soft, fond laugh; Kirishima quickly turned to the side, but a soft, muffled chuckle slipped out before he could catch it.

Denki mimicked Mina and let out a gut-deep sigh: "Man, these exams are killing me..."

"What the hell are these three shitheads doing lyin' on the damn floor?!" Bakugou stood in front of them, arms crossed.

Beside him, Sero leaned slightly to get a better look at the scene, unable to hide the disgusted look on his face: "Dude, there are people with some questionable quirks at this uni, and you're just lyin' on the floor?!"

Of course, Sero had to open his damn mouth...

That earned a collective "ew," and the three of them quickly scrambled to their feet.

Kirishima held out his hand to Mina, gently: "C'mon, I got you."

She slipped her hand into his, giggling under her breath.

"My hero~."

In a split second, heat rushed up Kirishima's neck, turning him as red—if not redder—than his hair. His gaze dropped to their hands, still intertwined, then slowly lifted to her face. He lingered on her golden eyes for a beat, caught there longer than he meant to... and then his gaze slipped down to her lips, unthinking, before he jolted back to himself and let go of her hands.

Suki stopped dusting off her pants and looked between the three boys. Bakugou rolled his eyes, while Denki and Sero shook their heads with the kind of knowing look that made it clear everyone understood what was going on—except the two of them.

a/n: who cares about the main plot when Kirimina is right there?!

Katsuki Bakugo X Reader

Reader loves posting 'silly' videos of her Pro Hero boyfriend. Based on the "see if he melts into the kiss" challenge from tik tok!!

Really short fic

Dating a Pro Hero had its ups and downs. Especially when that hero sat at number 4 in the charts and had many many fangirls. Not that Dynamight noticed or cared. He had you. his civilian girlfriend he meet while recuing her from a villain attack. Usually extras get in the way but Bakugo noticed how easily you dodged out of his way giving him a perfect opening to blast that villain. He immietaly gave you a double look noticing how pretty you were. His face became red as he apporached you asking in a rough voice if you were okay. Blinking up at him you smiled and that was that, Katsuki Bakugo was unraveled by an extra.

A year later after many dates a paparazzi had taken a picture of you and Katsuki on a small vacation in Hokkaido. The public criticized your every move, Katsuki had to make a statement to not harass you. Not that you cared you were happily moving into his apartment since he insisted. Couple moths later Dynamight went on an interview and spoke so softly about you it had a bunch of fans switching up on you and you gained a small following.

Now you filmed another side of the hero had the public eating out of your hand. They lived for your content with Katsuki, always tagging you and giving you ideas. Most recently a popular trend was going around social media and fans were tagging you asking to film his reaction. The trend itself was about asking your boyfriend to keep his arms out while you kiss him seeing if he'd 'melt' into it or not. You had an idea on how Katuski would react as you giddily set up the camera.

"What are we doing again?"

His eyes scanned you glancing to the camera already knowing his fans put you up to a crazy trend again. So far you had done videos such as pranking him that you found Kirishima on Hinge, had him lift you up to his shoulder with the audio 'a boy who's jacked and kind,' and plenty other silly videos. But this was a bit different and he could tell when you walked up to him smiling practically jumping on your feet.

"Okay hold your arms out like this," you grab his arms pulling them into position. Stretching them out in a T pose letting go, his arm hung loosely in the position you placed him in. He watched you curiously, wondering what this video was about. "Now what you brat."

You smile cupping his face softly placing your lips on his. Katsuki's eyes widen a bit not expecting it before he huffs into the kiss, eyes closing as his arms quickly come down to wrap around your waist. One stays on your hip as the other, the one the camera has a clear view of mind you, travels down to your ass gripping slightly. You make a small 'mmh' sound as he tilts his head deepening the kiss, greedily swallowing your cute noises. He begins moving you backwards too lost in the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep balance. Pulling slightly back flustered at his kiss, your eyes look up at him in a daze. His own scan you hungrily smirking, bringing a hand to your throat to pull you back into another kiss. Moaning into him Katsuki hums arms coming down breaking the kiss for a split second to cup the back of your thighs scooping you into his arms. He continues walking with you in his arms still kissing you moving you both to the bedroom video forgotten.

It wasn't until much MUCH later that you were able to get your phone the video still playing in loop on your drafts. The video cuts off when Katsuki walks off the screen with you in his arms. Taking off the audio and adding a song you looking at it once more before posting it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

cw: nsfw!! katsuki is a non-commital fuckboy, substance use (weed and vape)

The air in Katsuki's apartment was thick with the sweet, skunky haze of good weed and the lingering scent of your cherry-vanilla vape. You were both sprawled on his couch, limbs tangled in a way that would be intimate for anyone else, but for you two, was just standard operating procedure. Your feet were in his lap, his thumb idly rubbing circles on your ankle.

"—and then he had the nerve to say he 'didn't want to put a label on it'," you were ranting, gesturing wildly with the hand holding your vape. "Like, dude! We've been fucking for three months! The label is 'asshole'! That's the only label you're getting!"

Katsuki let out a short, sharp laugh, taking a long drag from the joint he was nursing. "Told you he was a loser. Saw his profile pic. That haircut alone should've been a red flag."

"Shut up," you grumbled, but there was no heat in it. You nudged him with your foot. "At least I try. You just take one look at a girl and decide she's not worth the effort before she even opens her mouth."

"Because I'm efficient," he shot back, a smug grin plastered on his face. "I can spot 'fixer-upper' energy from a mile away. They get that look in their eye, like they see a project, not a person. Fuck that. I'm not a goddamn home renovation."

He passed you the joint. You took a hit, the smoke curling from your lips as you exhaled. "God, we're a fucking mess," you sighed, a blissful, relaxed smile spreading across your face. "Two emotionally stunted, commitment-phobic disasters. We should be on a poster."

"We're a perfect team," he corrected, his hand sliding from your ankle to your calf, his touch warm and familiar. "We get each other. No bullshit. No expectations. Just..." He paused, searching for the word. "...Fun."

"Fun," you echoed, a knowing glint in your eye. The word hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. It was your code. The shorthand for everything you were to each other that you weren't to anyone else.

You took another drag, holding the smoke in your lungs before leaning over, your faces inches apart. He didn't hesitate, just met you halfway, his lips parting to accept the shotgun. It was a messy, intimate kiss that wasn't really a kiss at all, just a transfer of smoke and breath. But as you pulled back, his crimson eyes were locked on yours, the lazy, hazy contentment slowly being replaced by a different kind of heat.

"Speaking of fun," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in, this time his lips capturing yours properly. It was a deep, hungry kiss, tasting of weed and mutual understanding. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming it with a confident, possessive stroke that made your core clench.

This was the other part of your arrangement. The part that was as easy and natural as breathing. You didn't need to talk about it. You didn't need to ask. You just knew.

His hands were on you then, one sliding up your thigh to grip your ass, the other tangling in your hair to hold you in place as he deepened the kiss. You responded in kind, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his thin t-shirt. You were already wet, your body responding to his touch with an eagerness that was both embarrassing and incredibly useful.

He broke the kiss, his lips swollen and glistening. "Bedroom," he commanded, his voice a low, husky growl.

You didn't need to be told twice. You scrambled off the couch, shucking your clothes as you went, leaving a trail of discarded fabric in your wake. He was right behind you, his own clothes joining yours on the floor.

By the time you reached his bed, you were both naked. He pushed you down onto the mattress, his body covering yours in a hot, heavy weight. He didn't waste any time on foreplay. You didn't need it. This wasn't about romance; it was about release. It was about scratching an itch that only the other could reach.

He settled between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes burning with a fierce, hungry intensity. "Ready?" he asked, a rare, almost tender moment of consideration.

You just nodded, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He entered you in one slow, powerful thrust, and you both groaned at the sensation. He was big, and you were tight, a perfect, filthy fit that never failed to take your breath away. He didn't give you time to adjust, just set a brutal, punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours, the sound of your bodies coming together a loud, rhythmic slap in the quiet room.

"Fuck, you're tight tonight," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Did that last asshole even know what to do with this?"

"Shut up and fuck me," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't talk about him."

"Fine," he growled, his pace quickening. "Don't wanna talk about losers anyway. Just wanna hear you scream my name."

He shifted his angle, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. A sharp cry escaped your lips, your head falling back against the pillows. "Right there, Katsuki! Oh, fuck, right there!"

"Yeah? You like that?" he snarled, his ego swelling with every desperate sound you made. "Like it when I fuck you stupid? Bet that pretty boy couldn't find it if he had a goddamn map."

You couldn't form a coherent response, just a series of breathy moans and whimpers. He was hitting you so deep, so hard, it was all you could do to hold on.

"Come on, talk to me," he demanded, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels... so good," you managed, your voice a breathy, needy whine. "You're so deep... fuck, Katsuki, you're gonna break me."

"Good," he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening. "Wanna break you. Wanna fuck you so hard you forget every other dick you've ever had."

He reached between your bodies, his rough fingers finding your clit. He rubbed you with a focused, relentless intensity, his touch sending you over the edge.

"Katsuki, I'm gonna—" you started, your body tensing.

"Then fucking do it," he commanded, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Come for me. Now."

Your orgasm was a violent, shattering thing, a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. Your body convulsed around him, your inner walls clamping down on his cock. A scream tore from your throat, his name a desperate, broken prayer on your lips.

He followed you over the edge a moment later, his own release a deep, guttural roar as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. "Fuck! Take it! All of it!" he snarled, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you.

He stilled, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged, harsh pants. For a long moment, you just stayed like that, his body pinning yours to the bed, the only sound your combined, ragged breathing. The tension was gone, replaced by a quiet, sated intimacy.

He finally rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms. He didn't say anything, just pressed a soft, tired kiss to your temple.

You snuggled closer, your head resting on his chest. "So," you said, your voice a little breathless. "You wanna order pizza?"

He let out a low, contented chuckle. "Fuck yeah. Extra cheese. And you're paying this time."

"In your dreams, Bakugou," you shot back, a wide, happy smile spreading across your face.

This was your version of happy life. And it was more than enough.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

⊹₊⋆ likes, reblogs, replies, and follows are appreciated!

⊹₊⋆ if it could help me write better, please don't be shy to let me know!

⊹₊⋆ requests are open for now!

FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

You used to chase butterflies as a kid.

Not metaphorically, not in some poetic exaggerated way, but literally, like running barefoot across uneven grass, arms outstretched, laughing breathlessly as you tried to catch something soft and fleeting, something that always seemed just out of reach no matter how fast you ran or how carefully you crept up behind it. You never caught one, not really, just brushed the edges of wings once or twice before they slipped away again, light and untouchable, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of almost.

You hadn’t thought about that in years.

Not until him.

And then somehow—somehow—that was exactly what it felt like now.

Not the running part.

The almost part.

Because the first time you realized your chest felt tight, strange and fluttering and annoyingly persistent, was the first time Katsuki Bakugo snapped at someone across the training field, voice sharp and cutting, temper flaring like it always did, loud enough to turn heads and draw attention in that way only he could manage.

Everyone else had flinched.

You didn’t.

You just stood there, watching him, something unfamiliar settling in your chest, something that didn’t feel like fear or irritation or even annoyance, but something lighter, restless, like wings brushing against your ribs from the inside. Butterflies.

It was ridiculous.

You knew it was.

You were, by all reasonable standards, completely aware that Bakugo was difficult, and loud, and aggressive, stubborn to a fault, the kind of person most people learned to avoid rather than approach, but somehow that didn’t stop you.

If anything, it made it worse.

Because you liked it.

You liked the way he spoke like everything mattered. You liked the way he never held back, never softened himself for anyone, never pretended to be anything less than exactly what he was. You liked the sharp edges, the intensity, the way he carried himself like the world had something to prove to him.

You liked him.

Which was, admittedly, a problem.

Because crushing on Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t just inconvenient—it was borderline humiliating.

You kept thinking it.

Especially now.

Because of course, out of everyone in the dorm, it had to be him you ran into when you stepped outside for air, the night quiet and cool, the faint hum of the city in the distance while the rest of the building settled into that late-hour calm where most people had already gone to bed.

Bakugo was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far off like he was thinking about something or maybe nothing at all.

You hesitated for half a second.

Then walked over anyway.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” you said lightly, stopping beside him.

He didn’t even look at you.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, tough guy.”

“Tch.”

You leaned your elbows against the railing too, staring out into the dark, letting the silence sit for a moment longer than necessary, it wasn’t awkward, it was just… quiet.

Comfortable, in its own strange way.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

And there it was again.

That feeling.

God, you were so annoying.

“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you said suddenly.

Bakugo didn’t react immediately.

Just blinked once, slow, like he was processing whether he actually heard that right.

“…What.”

You didn’t look at him.

“Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”

Silence.

Then—

“What the hell does that even mean.”

You smiled slightly to yourself, resting your chin against your hand.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not ‘nothing,’” he said, finally turning his head toward you, brows drawn together in that familiar annoyed expression. “You just said it like it means something.”

“It does.”

“Then explain it.”

“No.”

He stared at you.

You could feel it. The weight of it.

“…You’re messing with me.”

“Maybe.”

“Tch. You’re weird.”

You shrugged.

“Yeah.”

He turned back to the railing, but you caught the way his shoulders shifted slightly, like he wasn’t entirely dismissing it, like it stuck just enough to bother him.

Good.

You let the silence settle again, the night air brushing softly against your skin, and for a moment you thought maybe that was it, that you’d said your weird little line, he’d brushed it off like always, and things would go back to normal.

Crushing on someone like Bakugo wasn’t something you built expectations around, it was something you kept to yourself, something you let exist without needing it to turn into anything more.

But then—

“…Say it again.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“That thing,” he muttered, not looking at you this time. “About butterflies or whatever.”

You turned your head, studying him for a second, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“You want me to say it again?”

“I didn’t say I want you to,” he snapped quickly. “I said say it again.”

You hummed softly, pretending to think about it.

“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you repeated, a little slower this time, a little more deliberate. “Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue under his breath, like the words annoyed him—but he didn’t interrupt this time.

Didn’t dismiss it right away either.

“…So what,” he said after a second, glancing at you again. “You’re saying I make you nervous or something?”

You tilted your head.

“Do I look nervous?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then not that.”

“Then what.”

You hesitated.

Just for a second.

Because suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

“They’re… good butterflies,” you said quietly. “Not the bad kind.”

He went still.

Not in a way anyone else would notice.

But you did.

Because you were looking at him.

And for a second, just a second, he didn’t have a comeback ready.

Didn’t brush it off.

Didn’t snap.

He just looked at you.

Then—

“Tch.”

He looked away, jaw tightening slightly like he didn’t know what to do with that.

“…That’s stupid.”

You smiled.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then, quieter—

“…You’re still weird.”

“Yeah.”

He shifted slightly against the railing, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a small, almost unconscious movement.

“…You say that every time you see me or what?”

You laughed softly.

“Only when it feels like that.”

“…And it feels like that a lot?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at him, the corner of your mouth lifting a little.

“…Maybe.”

Bakugo huffed under his breath, shaking his head slightly like you were hopeless.

“Idiot.”

But he didn’t walk away.

Didn’t even look as annoyed as he usually did.

If anything, he stayed right there beside you a little longer than he needed to.

And when you glanced at him again, just to check—He was already looking at you.

A pause.

Then, quieter—

“…But I get it.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

Hello helloooo, not fully back yet but I just wanted to drop by and share this fic I crammed 😭 (i miss tumblr so much & flooding ur feeds) it’s a bit rushed and so is the other one m posting maybe in the next few days but I had fun writing it, hope you guys like it!!💜

You knew something was wrong before you even opened your eyes.

Like a creeping awareness that something didn’t line up, like the weight of the sheets felt different, heavier and smoother against your skin, the air smelled unfamiliar, clean in a way that didn’t carry any trace of your usual perfume or the faint sweetness of your room, and even the silence felt wrong, too still, like the space around you didn’t belong to you at all.

Your head throbbed, reminding you of poor decisions made just hours ago, drinks you shouldn’t have finished, laughter that blurred too loud and too close, the way everything had started spinning just enough that you stopped caring.

You frowned slightly, eyes still closed, trying to piece together anything that made sense.

There had been music. Your friends. A crowded place. And then—Nothing.

Your eyes opened.

The ceiling above you was plain, stark white, completely bare, no decorations, no shelves, no familiar clutter to ground you, and that alone was enough to make your stomach drop just a little as your gaze slowly drifted around the room.

Dark walls. Minimal furniture. Everything neat to the point of looking untouched.

It wasn’t messy. But it was hella expensive, the kind of place that didn’t need to prove anything because everything already spoke for itself.

“…This is not my room,” you murmured, voice hoarse from sleep—or maybe from the drinks or maybe from hmm...

A wave of unease crept in. Where were your friends? How dd you get here? Why didn’t you remember anything?

You pushed yourself upright a little too quickly, and the room tilted just enough to make you wince, your hand flying to your temple as your breath hitched, the dull ache in your head flaring for a second before settling again.

“Easy.”

You froze.

The voice came from somewhere behind you.

Low.Rough. Calm in a way that didn’t match the situation at all.

Your head turned slowly, heart picking up just enough to make you aware of it, and your eyes landed on him.

In the corner of the room, leaning against the wall like he had been there the entire time without making a sound, stood Katsuki Bakugo.

Blond hair, messy in a way that looked natural rather than careless, sharp red eyes fixed on you with a quiet kind of focus, his posture relaxed but not lazy, one shoulder resting against the wall while he held a glass of water in his hand like he’d been waiting for you to wake up.

“You look like you’re about to pass out again,” he said, stepping forward just enough to place the glass on the bedside table within your reach. “Drink.”

You stared at him.

Then at the glass.

Then back at him again.

Your thoughts felt slow, delayed, like your brain was trying to catch up with the situation. But one thing you can be sure of is that he was so damn hot.

“…Where am I?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more cautious.

“My place.

That didn’t help.

“…Why am I here?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he straightened slightly, arms folding across his chest as he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was assessing something, and for a moment you wondered how long he had been standing there watching you sleep.

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

Something about the way he said it made your stomach tighten.

He look almost… amused.

“…Remember what?” you pressed.

He tilted his head just a little, eyes narrowing as if studying your face for any sign that you were pretending, and then slowly, almost lazily, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“…Huh.”

Your heart dropped.

“What.”

He didn’t answer.

Just let the silence sit there, stretching it out long enough that your imagination started filling in the gaps, long enough that your pulse started picking up in a way that had nothing to do with the hangover.

“That’s rough,” he said finally.

“What’s rough?” you asked quickly, your voice sharper now. “What happened?”

He pushed off the wall and moved a little closer, not too close, but enough that his presence felt heavier in the room, more real.

“You were wasted,” he said.

“I figured.”

“Could barely walk,” he continued, tone casual, like he was recounting something mildly inconvenient rather than your entire missing night. “Kept stumbling.”

You closed your eyes for a second, groaning quietly under your breath.

“…That sounds about right.”

“And loud.”

Your eyes snapped open.

“I’m not loud.”

“You were,” he said without hesitation.

“I was not.”

“You were.”

You stared at him, trying to decide if he was serious, but his expression didn’t give you much—just that faint edge of amusement that made you more suspicious than anything else.

“What was I even saying?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

He paused.

Then that smirk came back, sharper this time.

“…Mostly about me.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

“You kept going on about how I’m ‘handsome,’” he said, voice just slightly mocking now, like he was quoting you. “And—what was it—‘yummy,’ I think."

There was a moment where everything just… stopped.

Then your entire face burned. He was yummy alright but I didn't know I would literally say it to him.

“No,” you said immediately. “No, I did not say that.”

“You did.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

You dragged both hands over your face, groaning into them as embarrassment hit full force, your brain finally catching up to the situation in the worst possible way.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing—”

He huffed quietly, almost like a laugh, though he didn’t fully commit to it.

“You also didn’t know where you were,” he added. “Didn’t know your friends, didn’t know your name.”

You lowered your hands slowly, staring at him.

“…You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“So you just… brought me here?”

“You were about to fall flat on your face,” he said simply. “Figured I’d stop that from happening.”

“…That’s not very comforting.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to process everything, your thoughts still sluggish but at least starting to connect now.

“…Nothing else happened, right?” you asked carefully.

The moment the question left your mouth, you regretted it.

Because the way he went quiet—

“You don’t remember?” he asked again.

Your stomach dropped.

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at you, holding your gaze a little too long, like he was deciding how far he wanted to push this.

“…Damn,” he muttered.

Your heart started pounding.

“What happened?” you repeated, more urgently now.

He leaned back slightly, one hand braced behind him on the bed, gaze still locked on yours.

No, no, no, nothing happened right? Your hands immediately went to your body and a sense of relief came when you see that you're still wearing your dress from last night. Then, just as your thoughts started spiraling—

“Relax,” he said.

You blinked.

“…What?”

“Nothing happened,” he added.

The relief was immediate.

Sharp.

Followed immediately by embarrassment all over again.

“…Okay.”

“You were the one trying to start something, though,” he added.

You froze. COULD THIS BE EVEN MORE EMBARRASSING??!!!

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

“You kept asking me to kiss you.”

Your brain shut down.

“…You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

You covered your face again, voice muffled.

“This is horrible.”

“You literally said ‘just one kiss,’ like eight times.”

“I did not say it like that—”

“You did.”

You peeked at him through your fingers.

“…And you didn’t?”

“No.”

“…Why not?”

He gave you a look.

“You were drunk out of your mind.”

You paused.

Right.

“…Okay, fair.”

“And I’m not that kind of guy,” he added, tone a little sharper now, like that part actually mattered to him.

Something about that made you glance at him properly this time.

Really look.

And yeah.

Annoyingly enough—

He was handsome.

Very.

And yummy indeed.

Which made everything worse.

“…Well,” you muttered, lowering your hands, “at least I have good taste.”

He huffed again, quieter this time.

“Yeah, you do.”

You grabbed the glass of water and took a sip, letting the coolness settle your throat while the embarrassment slowly dulled into something more manageable.

“…I didn’t even get your name,” you said after a moment.

“Bakugo Katsuki, just Katsuki.”

You nodded, then gave yours.

He repeated it once, like he was making sure he got it right.

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t as tense now, just… calm.

Then—

“…So,” he said.

You looked up.

“What.”

That smirk was back.

Dangerous.

“Now that you’re sober,” he said, voice low, “you can ask me again.”

Your stomach flipped.

“…Ask you what.” for him to kiss you duh

He tilted his head slightly.

“You were pretty persistent last night.”

You stared at him.

Then huffed, looking away, trying to hide the way your lips curved just a little.

“…You’re annoying.

“Tch.”

He didn’t deny it.

And the way he was looking at you now,

Like he was waiting

Made your pulse pick up all over again.

Except this time…

You didn’t look away.

૮ ․ ․ ྀིა angst, soft bakugo (he just wants to love you bro)...has a happy ending! AN: this is a revised version of an orginal work from over a year ago :P

Ex-husband Bakugo! who agreed to signing the divorce papers without a fuss. he wears his wedding ring on a chain that sits around his neck. He never takes it off. Hero costume? securely tucked under the collar. Casual wear? The chain and ring itself shines brightly in the sun. The shower? It.never.comes.off

Ex-husband Bakugo! who brings bags of groceries and goods for the kids. Snacks, clothes, and a few toys. All the essentials for the little ones right? Nope. You'll always find your favorite snacks, restock of your signature lotion and perfume, or something you would mentioned wanting. (Bakugo of course making an excuse that you "needed" it and refusing on returning the ,rather expensive, items back)

Ex-husband Bakugo! who hasn't changed the lockscreen of his phone. It's the two of you on your first date. He had tried convincing you to go somewhere that had spicy food, but was eventually dragged to a nearby bakery/cafe that was near campus. Surprisingly, he wasn't put off on the dango and smoothies you ordered. They weren’t too sweet, just right. The photo is a selfie of you two, a stick of dango in your hand, the straw of the smoothie in Bakugo's mouth as your cheeks were pressed against each other. Bakugo looking everywhere but the camera as if he were embarrassed while you were smiling and looking at the camera lens.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who tried the dating scene again. The relationship wouldn't last longer than 2-3 weeks. All of them resulting in him comparing the women to you...or rather they failed to compare to you.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who lets you rest your legs on top of his thighs, as he massages your calves and sore feet after being on patrol for long hours. sometimes you two would sit in comfortable silence, the faint sound of Kazuya (your son) talking to baby Hayami in their shared room over the baby monitor filling the silence.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who would stay over for the weekend, claiming it was to spend more time with the kids when he also wanted to spend more time with you.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who found himself sleeping in the same bed with you since the divorce after dropping the kids off after a long fun weekend. You huffed as his larger frame seemed to swallow you whole despite your bed being a Queen and he techincally had his own side. Your personal space no longer your own. It's when you gave up on trying to resist him and settle down for the night, you swear you can feel him smiling against your hair

Ex-husband Bakugo! who, slowly but surely, started reintroducing himself in the kids (and your life) lives again by staying over more often. your own personal laundry basket was filled with his clothes, your toothbrush holder held an extra one, and his natural cedar cinnamony scent was engraved on your pillows long after he left for patrol.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who kissed you softly one morning while you were making breakfast. The taste of freshly brewed coffee on his lips and your natural sweet taste combining into one left the both of you wanting more of each other. You reluctantly pull away from each other when the pair of small feet running on the wooden floor of your apartment, no doubt belonging to your toddlers had brought you both back to reality.

Ex-husband Bakugo! who vows to do better, promising you that he will be there when you’re ready to try again and that he doesn’t plan on leaving even when you push him away. where he told you this? by taking you to the bakery cafe with the both of your kids.

—

pairings: fwb with kirishima x f!toxic reader

warnings: rough sex, kissing, pet names

summary: if you don't want to be with him just spit it out!

walk with me here walk with me….

being fwb with kirishima and you're over it. over him. he's too nice, and it only makes you meaner. 

throughout the entirety of your "relationship" he's been nothing but sweet, even when you don't deserve it. he puts up with your attitude, your mixed signals, your way of pretending none of this matters. 

it's as if it only draws him closer. and you hate it. 

rule number #1 of your relationship was simple, no feelings. a boundary you set when you figured this would be nothing but sex for you. until he became the best thing you never planned for.

so you act like a brat, push him away, ignore him when he's being "too clingy". then show up at his dorm room, late at night asking why he hasn't talked to you all day. 

and kirishima, ever the gentleman, will always apologize. he'll pull you into his room and lay you on the bed so sweetly, and give you the best head of your life. 

so you call it quits. tell him it's over through text because he 'isn't taking this seriously'. like you're daring him to disagree, another test to see if he'll finally crack and say what you never could.

and within minutes of sending it… he's at your door. barging into the room like it never happened. like the message didn't exist.

it's only when you bring it up to him again as he makes himself comfortable on the bed that you realize he's not confused — he's certain.

he doesn't argue, doesn't push back. just nods as if he's already made peace with it.

"okay" he says softly, "one last time then"

and the way he looks at you makes your stomach twist.

"if you can still tell me you want this to be over… we can call it quits" he smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

and what does he mean, if you can?