⋆˚࿔ Xanne.cherie 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

— BLACK WHIP !! katsuki bakugou x afab!f!reader

.✦ ݁˖ summary: you hate your boyfriend's new car, but katsuki thinks you just need to get to know each other a little more ... personally

+ hickeys, pet names, car sex, brief pussy slapping, cum eating, oral (f!receiving), pwp, katsuki refers to the porsche as his girl once... just trust me, implied kirimina (yeah boohoo)

The restaurant is loud, overlapping conversations, the sounds of cutlery clashing with stained porcelain — it's overwhelming. And so is the feeling of Katsuki fiddling with the hem of your dress.

In all honesty, you're finding it difficult to concentrate. Even as the couple in front of you poke and prod for details about your, not-so-personal lives, your mind can't help but wander to something else…

"So," the redhead starts, twirling pasta around his fork before glancing up at you, "do you like Bakugou's new car?"

Ah, yes — the Porsche.

The newest addition to the list of things Katsuki really didn't need, but bought anyway because he thought it was cool — second only to the five foot All Might figurine currently collecting dust in his office.

Your boyfriend first brought up the idea on a rainy Sunday in your shared home — limbs tangled together, skin stuck to one another as you melt into the rise and fall of his chest. It was a quiet morning — one filled with love making and breakfast in bed.

So, imagine your disdain when Katsuki ruined it with his stupid questions.

synopsis: two painfully oblivious idiots keep finding themselves in increasingly romantic situations that look suspiciously like scenes from a shoujo anime. while their friends place bets on when they’ll finally realize they’re in love, the pair survive mutual pining and jealous misunderstandings, they’re forced to confront the horrifying possibility that they might actually be the main couple.

pairing: bakugo x reader

The First Meeting

the first time you met katsuki bakugo, he almost blew you up.

in your defense, you had no idea the angry blonde stomping through the crowded hallway was ua’s resident menace. in his defense- actually, no, there was no defense for shoulder-checking someone hard enough to send your papers flying across the floor.

“watch where you’re going, dumbass.”

you stared up at him from the ground, worksheets scattered everywhere.

“…you hit me.”

red eyes narrowed. “and?” the hallway suddenly went quiet.

someone nearby whispered, “oh my god.” another muttered, “someone’s about to die.”

you looked back at the boy towering over you. spiky ash blond hair. ua uniform half unbuttoned. an expression that suggested he hated humanity personally.

oh.

bakugo katsuki.

walking anger management violation.

you picked up a paper slowly. “wow. you’re even ruder in person.”

the hallway collectively inhaled. bakugo’s eye twitched. “the hell did you say to me?”

“you heard me.”

“you got a death wish or something?”

“depends,” you replied. “are you always this obnoxious before eight in the morning, or am i special?”

someone choked in the background. tiny sparks crackled in his palm as he stepped closer. “you wanna fight?”

“not particularly. but if you’re offering.”

there was a beat of silence before another voice cut in. “YOOOOO.” eijiro kirishima appeared out of nowhere looking way too excited. “bakubro, are you beefing with the new transfer student already?”

“they started it.” you blinked. “you literally ran into me.”

“you were standing in my way!”

“…in the hallway?”

“YEAH.”

“which is where people usually stand. kirishima made a strangled laugh while bakugo looked seconds away from committing a felony.

you finally stood, brushing off your uniform. bakugo was annoyingly tall up close, which made glaring at him less intimidating than you wanted.

his eyes flicked toward your papers. combat analysis notes. “you’re in the hero course?” he asked skeptically.

“unfortunately.” he scoffed. “you don’t look strong.”

“and you look unpleasant. crazy how first impressions work.”

kirishima actually wheezed. bakugo’s palm popped with another tiny explosion. “say that again.”

“unpleasant.”

“kacchan,” a tired voice sighed. izuku midoriya stepped through the crowd already looking exhausted. “it’s eight in the morning.”

“tell them to stop talking.”

“you’re the one threatening people!”

“because they’re annoying!” you crossed your arms. “you know i’m still standing right here, right?”

bakugo pointed at you dramatically. “SEE?” midoriya looked apologetic. “i’m really sorry about him.”

“don’t apologize for me, damn nerd.”

“you shoulder-checked them.”

“they survived.”

“barely,” you muttered. bakugo heard you anyway.“you got something to say?”

“several things, actually.”

“TRY ME.”

“you seem emotionally exhausting.” the hallway erupted into whispers. someone muttered, “they’re either gonna kill each other or get married.” you snorted before you could stop yourself.

bakugo looked genuinely offended by the sound. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing,” you said, grinning slightly. “you just take yourself really seriously.”

his expression somehow got worse. “you wanna see serious?”

“kacchan,” midoriya said carefully, “please don’t explode the transfer student.”

“i’m considering it.”

“wow,” you deadpanned. “ua’s future number one hero everybody.” before bakugo could respond, the warning bell rang overhead. the crowd scattered instantly, clearly used to evacuating dangerous situations. kirishima grabbed bakugo’s shoulder. “c’mon, class.”

bakugo shrugged him off without looking away from you once. his eye contact was weirdly intense. like a feral cat deciding whether to attack. “this conversation isn’t over,” he said.

“i can live with that.”

“you better hope you can.”

“are all your threats this dramatic?”

“ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS ANNOYING?”

“probably.”

his eye twitched again. kirishima physically dragged him backward before he could explode at you again. “nice meeting you!” kirishima called.

“debatable!” you yelled back. bakugo pointed aggressively while being hauled down the hallway. “i’m gonna crush you at training!”

“okay!”

“STOP SOUNDING SO CALM ABOUT IT!” you watched them disappear before glancing down at the singed edge of one worksheet. “…wow,” you muttered. “he really is insane.”

“you have no idea,” uraraka sighed beside you.

“does he do that often?”

“unfortunately, yes.” she paused. “usually people avoid arguing with him, though.”

“why?” she stared at you. “…because he’s terrifying?” you considered that. “hm.”

uraraka blinked. “that’s your response?”

“i mean,” you said slowly, “he seems really easy to irritate.” from somewhere far down the hallway came a distant shout: “I HEARD THAT.”

you burst out laughing.

and honestly?

that sounded like a him problem.

The Realization Episode

the realization happens three days after your first fight with bakugo. three exhausting, irritating days of accidentally running into him everywhere.

it starts in combat training when he blasts past you hard enough to nearly knock you over without even LOOKING at you. then at lunch when he steals the last spicy curry bun directly off your tray because “you were standing there too long.” then during quirk assessment when he loudly tells kirishima your fighting stance “looks stupid,” while staring directly at you the entire time.

he’s infuriating.

loud, aggressive, arrogant-

and somehow impossible to ignore.

“you’re glaring again,” uraraka says from beside you in homeroom.

“i am not.”

“you absolutely are.”

you snap your notebook shut. “he started it.”

across the classroom, bakugo is halfway out of his seat yelling at kaminari for touching his gauntlet. ash-blond hair messy, eyes sharp and wild, hands already sparking dangerously. you look away immediately. unfortunately, uraraka notices that too.

“…oh no,” she whispers.

“what?”

“nothing.”

“uraraka.”

she looks way too entertained suddenly. “i just think it’s funny how much attention you pay to him.”

“i literally don’t.”

“you knew exactly where he was without turning around.”

“everyone knows where he is. he yells every five seconds.”

which is true. probably. hopefully.

before uraraka can say anything else, aizawa walks in looking half-dead as usual. “training exercise,” he says flatly. “pairs.” the room immediately explodes into noise. you sit up a little straighter.

please not bakugo. please not bakugo. please not-

“bakugo and you.”

you physically stop breathing. somewhere behind you, kaminari bursts out laughing.

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME,” bakugo barks at the exact same time you say, “seriously?”

aizawa doesn’t even blink. “problem?”

“yes,” both of you answer instantly.

“figure it out.”

great.

just great.

twenty minutes later, you’re standing in the middle of training ground beta while bakugo looks like he’d rather launch himself into the sun than cooperate with you. “don’t slow me down,” he says immediately.

“i wasn’t planning on it.”

his eyes narrow. “you always talk this much?”

“only around people i hate.”

“good. same.”

you should probably stop arguing. instead, you glare harder. the exercise starts with mock villains scattered through the training zone. objective: rescue civilians while neutralizing threats.

simple enough.

except working with bakugo is like trying to survive a natural disaster. he charges ahead recklessly, explosions echoing through the buildings while you scramble after him yelling things like “WATCH THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE” and “YOU CANNOT JUST BLOW UP THE STAIRS.”

“worked, didn’t it?” he shoots back.

“that civilian mannequin is missing an arm!”

“not my problem.”

“IT IS LITERALLY THE ASSIGNMENT.” he grins at that. actually grins. it catches you off guard enough that you nearly trip over broken concrete.

because that expression-

it changes his entire face.

you hate that you notice. you hate it even more when he notices you noticing. his smirk sharpens instantly. “what? you got a staring problem?”

“you wish.”

“yeah? kinda looks like it.” your face gets hot for absolutely no reason. thankfully, another mock villain appears before he can say anything else.

the next ten minutes are chaos. surprisingly effective chaos, unfortunately. you fall into rhythm faster than expected. you block attacks while he goes on offense. he blasts openings through obstacles while you handle evacuations. every time one of you moves, the other somehow adjusts automatically.

efficient.

annoyingly efficient.

at one point, a support beam collapses above you without warning. you barely have time to react before an explosion detonates overhead. debris scatters everywhere. bakugo is suddenly in front of you, one arm raised protectively while smoke curls through the air around him.

“watch it,” he snaps. your brain completely short-circuits. because-

he protected you. bakugo looks down at you, red eyes sharp. “you deaf or something?”

“…what?”

he stares. you stare back. then his expression twists immediately into irritation. “quit looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“weird.”

“i’m not looking at you weird!”

“you are NOW.”

your heartbeat feels strangely loud. why is your heartbeat loud?

before you can figure out an answer, the exercise buzzer rings overhead signaling the end of training. you step back immediately. bakugo scoffs and turns away first. “tch. we still could’ve done better.”

“we passed.”

“barely.”

“you literally blew up half the building.”

“AND?” you should be annoyed. you ARE annoyed.

but as he stalks off toward the exit with smoke still rising from his palms, something uncomfortable settles heavily in your chest.

because now you’re noticing things.

the way he moves during fights.

the way his confidence fills a room.

the way he keeps looking at you like challenging you is the highlight of his day.

and honestly?

that realization might be worse than actually fighting him.

The Jealousy Episode

the problem starts when another class starts flirting with you. more specifically, when a third year named miyata leans against your desk after lunch with an easy grin and says, “you’re the transfer student everyone’s talking about, right?”

you glance up from your notes. “…depends. are they saying good things?” miyata laughs. across the classroom, Katsuki Bakugo looks up immediately. not because he cares.

obviously.

it’s because the extra standing near your desk is being loud. that’s all.

“mostly,” miyata says. “i heard you survived arguing with bakugo your first day here.” you snort softly. “survived is a generous word.”

“i’m impressed.” he smiles. “most people avoid him.”

“most people are smarter than me.” bakugo’s pencil snaps clean in half. the room goes silent. “…dude,” Denki Kaminari whispers. “that was terrifying.” bakugo scowls at the broken pencil in his hand like it insulted him personally. “cheap garbage,” he mutters.

meanwhile, miyata keeps talking to you like there isn’t a ticking bomb three rows away. “there’s a training exhibition this weekend,” he says. “you should come watch the third years.”

“depends,” you reply. “will it be entertaining?”

“if i’m there? definitely.” you laugh lightly. bakugo’s second pencil cracks. kirishima slowly turns toward him. “…you good, bro?”

“fine.” another crack. “…you just broke a third pencil.”

“THEY KEEP BREAKING.”

kirishima glances between bakugo and your desk. then he slowly grins.

oh no.

“bakugo,” he says carefully, “are you jealous?” the tiny explosion that follows is small but emotionally devastating. “I DON’T CARE.”

half the class ducks instinctively. you glance over at the smoke curling from bakugo’s desk. “everything okay over there?”

“FINE.”

miyata raises an eyebrow. “he always this intense?”

“unfortunately.” bakugo’s eye twitches immediately. again. why did you keep saying things like that with that amused little smile? and why was this idiot extra still standing so close to you?

“anyway,” miyata says, leaning closer now, “i could show you around campus sometime. unless you’re busy.”

there’s a loud crunching sound. everyone turns. bakugo is crushing his water bottle with one hand. complete silence. “bro,” kaminari whispers. “he’s actually losing it.”

“shut up.”

“you’re scaring me.”

“GOOD.”

you narrow your eyes slightly at bakugo from across the room.

weird.

he’d been acting strange since training yesterday. somehow even more aggressive than usual, which honestly felt impressive considering his personality already resembled an active war zone.

your attention shifts back toward miyata. “sure,” you say casually. “i don’t mind.”

bakugo stands up so abruptly his chair screeches across the floor. everyone jumps.

including you.

“i’m going to training,” he announces aggressively. kaminari blinks. “class literally starts in two minutes.”

“don’t care.”

“aizawa’s gonna erase your quirk again.”

“DON’T CARE.”

then he storms toward the door. it slams hard enough to shake the classroom walls. silence. miyata watches the closed door for a second. “…did i just witness a divorce?” you immediately choke on your own spit.

across the room, kirishima has to physically sit down because he’s laughing too hard. “OH MY GOD,” kaminari wheezes.

“you guys are making this weird,” you say instantly.

“we’re making it weird?” kaminari repeats.

“yes.”

“bakugo just rage quit the classroom because another guy talked to you.”

“that is not why he left.”

“then why’d he leave?” you hesitate. “…because he’s insane?”

the class considers that carefully. “…okay,” kirishima admits finally. “that’s also possible.”

The Sick Episode

the first sign something’s wrong is that you don’t argue with Katsuki Bakugo in the morning. which, unfortunately, is noticeable immediately.

“move,” bakugo snaps while passing your desk. normally, you’d insult him. instead, you just shift your chair without looking up. bakugo slows. “…the hell?”

you’re slumped over your desk, cheek pressed against your arms, eyes half-lidded. you look awful. “why do you look like that?” he asks.

“like what?”

“like you died.”

“maybe i did.”

your voice sounds rough enough that several heads turn. from nearby, uraraka frowns. “y/n, are you okay?”

“mhm.”

“that was not convincing,” midoriya says carefully. you lift your head slightly and immediately regret it when the room spins. “…okay maybe i’m a little sick.”

“a little?” kaminari blurts. “you look like a victorian child.”

“thank you,” you mumble. bakugo’s still staring.

annoyingly.

“why’re you here then?”

“because we have class.”

“idiot.”

“rude.”

class starts. you survive maybe thirty minutes before your headache becomes unbearable. even taking notes feels exhausting. aizawa pauses mid-lecture. “…why do you look glassy-eyed.”

“i’m fine.”

“you almost fell asleep sitting up.”

“multitasking.” aizawa sighs. “go to recovery girl.”

“i can stay.”

“that wasn’t a suggestion.” you groan quietly and stand. immediately, dizziness slams into you hard enough to make you stumble. before you hit the floor, someone grabs your arm roughly. “watch it,” bakugo mutters. the class goes silent. you blink at his hand around your sleeve. bakugo realizes what he’s doing and lets go immediately.

“…thanks,” you say slowly.

“don’t mention it.”

“you literally stopped me from eating shit.”

“should’ve aimed better then.”

“you’re unbelievably bad at being nice.”

“shut up.”

you snort weakly before heading for the door. behind you, bakugo watches until you disappear into the hallway. kirishima notices instantly. “…dude.”

“what.”

“you looked worried.”

“I DID NOT.”

“you kinda did,” kaminari says. bakugo glares. “keep talking and i’ll kill both of you.”

-

recovery girl takes one look at you and sighs. turns out you have a fever. which is how you end up dragging yourself back toward the dorms an hour later with medicine in your pocket and exhaustion in your bones. halfway there, you seriously consider collapsing into a bush.

“oi.”

you turn slowly and nearly walk into bakugo. “…why are you here?”

“aizawa told me to make sure you didn’t pass out and die on the sidewalk.” you stare suspiciously. “he specifically sent you?”

“don’t sound so shocked.”

“you threatened to leave me for dead this morning.”

“yeah, well.” he shoves his hands into his pockets. “you looked worse after class.”

your feverish brain short-circuits slightly. “…was that concern?” bakugo looks horrified. “NO.”

“wow. defensive.”

“shut up and walk.” you grin faintly. “you care about me so much.” he makes an aggressive choking sound. “i care about aizawa yelling at me if you die.”

“sure.”

the walk back is quiet. bakugo notices things anyway. like how your steps get slower halfway there. or how tired you look rubbing your eyes.

it bothers him.

which is stupid.

you’re annoying.

you argue with him constantly.

so why does seeing you sick feel so weirdly wrong?

by the time you reach the dorms, you look half asleep on your feet. “you gonna survive getting upstairs?” he asks.

“probably.”

you immediately trip over absolutely nothing. bakugo catches your shoulder before you can faceplant.

silence.

“…i’m blaming the fever,” you mumble.

“you’re a disaster.”

“and yet here you are.”

his hand lingers on your shoulder for half a second before the dorm door swings open. mina gasps dramatically. “OH MY GOD.”

both of you jump apart instantly. behind her, kaminari appears immediately. “…why do you guys look guilty?”

“we don’t,” you say.

“you absolutely do,” mina replies. bakugo looks moments away from detonating the building.

“they almost fell.” mina grins. “and you caught them?”

“obviously.”

“awww.”

“DON’T MAKE IT WEIRD.”

you groan tiredly. “i’m too sick for this.”before heading upstairs, you glance back toward bakugo. “…thanks. seriously.” he freezes slightly before clicking his tongue.

“yeah, whatever.”

but he still waits until you make it upstairs before leaving.

The Rain Episode

the rain starts halfway through patrol training. at first, it’s just a drizzle. annoying, but manageable. then, within minutes, the sky completely gives up and unleashes absolute hell.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” kaminari yells as thunder cracks overhead. rain pours hard enough to soak through your uniform instantly while class 1-a scrambles beneath the nearest awning.

you wipe water from your eyes with a groan.

great.

just great.

everyone looks miserable. except Katsuki Bakugo, who somehow just looks angrier than the storm itself. water drips from his hair as he scowls at the rain like it offended him personally. “this is stupid,” he snaps.

“wow,” you mutter beside him while wringing out your sleeve. “really insightful observation there.” his head immediately whips toward you. “you got something to say?”

“many things, actually.”

“keep ‘em to yourself.”

“make me.”

lightning flashes overhead before thunder rattles the windows behind you hard enough to make you flinch. bakugo notices immediately. “…you scared of thunder or something?”

you glare at him. “no.”

“you flinched.”

“because it sounded like the apocalypse.”

“dramatic.”

“says you.” he scoffs, crossing his arms. except now he’s looking at you weirdly again. you’ve noticed that lately. bakugo stares at you more than he used to. sometimes annoyed. sometimes confused. sometimes like he’s trying to solve a math problem against his will.

honestly, it’s unsettling.

another gust of wind sprays freezing rain beneath the awning. you hiss quietly. “ugh. i’m freezing.”

“should’ve brought a jacket.” you stare flatly. “thank you. your wisdom knows no bounds.”

before he can reply, the supervising hero sighs. “storm warning just got worse. train station’s delayed too.” a collective groan rises from the class. perfect. then bakugo abruptly shoves something into your chest.

you blink down.

umbrella.

“…what.”

“take it.”

“…yours?”

“obviously.”

you stare at him. “why are you giving me your umbrella?” bakugo immediately looks irritated. “because you said you were freezing.”

“okay, but you’ll get soaked.”

“i’ll live.”

nearby, kirishima blinks. “…that was weirdly nice.”

“shut up.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously. “…are you dying?” his eye twitches. “the hell kind of question is that?”

“you voluntarily did something considerate.”

“don’t make it weird.”

“too late,” mina says immediately. kaminari gasps dramatically. “wait wait WAIT. is this the rain episode?” the entire class goes silent. bakugo narrows his eyes dangerously. “…the what.”

“you know,” kaminari says, grinning. “the super romantic anime episode where two people share an umbrella and accidentally fall in lo-“

an explosion detonates beside his head.

“I’LL KILL YOU.”

“SEE?” kaminari yells while ducking behind kirishima. “that reaction means something!”

“it means you’re annoying!”

you snort despite yourself. bakugo hears it instantly. his gaze snaps toward you. and there it is again. that stupid feeling in his chest every time you laugh around him lately.

annoying.

uncomfortable.

seriously pissing him off.

“you’re staring again,” you say suddenly.

he scowls. “shut up.”

“that’s not a denial.” before he can threaten you again, the supervising hero sighs. “train station’s officially closed. dorms are closest on foot from here.” you groan immediately. “in this weather?”

“unless you’d rather sleep on the sidewalk.”

everyone reluctantly prepares to leave. you glance down at the umbrella still in your hands before looking back at bakugo.

“…seriously, you can use this too.” he blinks. “what?”

“it’s one umbrella,” you say slowly. “unless you’re planning on sprinting home through a thunderstorm.”

“i can handle rain.”

“okay, but that sounds miserable.”

he looks like he’d rather fight god than agree. finally, he clicks his tongue. “fine.” behind you, mina physically grabs kaminari to stop him from screaming. the walk back is awkward immediately. mostly because bakugo refuses to walk normally beside another human being.

“you’re hogging the umbrella,” you complain as rain splashes your shoulder.

“you’re too short.”

“that is not my fault.”

“sounds like a skill issue.”

“you are unbelievable.”

another rumble of thunder rolls overhead. without thinking, you step slightly closer beneath the umbrella. your shoulder bumps his. bakugo immediately goes rigid. you notice instantly. “…why are you acting like i stabbed you?”

“I’M NOT.”

“you literally tensed.”

“because you keep invading my space.”

“we are under one umbrella.”

“…exactly.”

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

he doesn’t answer. mostly because your shoulder is still pressed against his.

warm.

way warmer than it should be.

bakugo’s brain feels like it’s overheating. this is stupid. it’s just rain.

just an umbrella.

just you.

so why the hell is he suddenly hyperaware of everything?

like the way rainwater slides down your face. or how close your hand is to brushing his every few seconds.

his grip tightens on the umbrella handle. “you’re doing the staring thing again,” you mumble.

“…shut up.”

you laugh quietly.

and bakugo immediately decides thunderstorms are the least of his problems.

The School Festival Episode

The festival had somehow turned into the loudest day of the entire semester. music blasted through every hallway, glitter coated every available surface, and half the school smelled like fried food and burned sugar.

you already hated it.

“quit looking so miserable,” kirishima laughed as class 1-a dragged supplies down the hall. “it’s supposed to be fun.”

“i am having fun.”

“you look like you’re planning arson.”

“maybe i am.”

mina snorted from behind a pile of decorations. “c’mon, the festival’s cute.”

“it’s crowded,” you complained. “and loud.”

“wow. shocking. almost like it’s a festival.”

you shot kaminari a flat look just as the classroom door slid open. bakugo walked out carrying an entire folding table by himself like it weighed nothing. of course he was. his eyes flicked toward the group before landing briefly on you. “why the hell are you all standing around?”

“we’re talking,” sero answered.

“well stop.” he shoved past everyone toward the classroom while the rest of the class scattered automatically. you rolled your eyes. some things never changed.

after the rain incident a few days ago, things between you and bakugo had gotten weird. not better. definitely not softer. but weird.

the arguments were still there, except now there were moments where they didn’t feel as sharp anymore. moments where he’d look at you too long before insulting you. moments where you’d catch yourself waiting for him to say something.

it was irritating. especially because everyone else noticed too. “you two have tension,” mina whispered beside you.

“we have mutual hatred.”

“that’s still tension.”

inside the classroom, absolute chaos had already taken over. decorations were scattered everywhere, tables sat half assembled, and jiro was currently yelling at kaminari for touching the speakers again.

meanwhile, bakugo was aggressively fixing a crooked banner.

“if i can see it leaning from across the room, then fix it.”

“it’s barely crooked,” sato argued.

“crooked is crooked.” you accidentally laughed. bakugo’s head snapped toward you immediately. “…what?”

“nothing.”

“you’re mocking me.”

“because you’re acting insane.”

“you wanna decorate it then?”

“absolutely not.”

he clicked his tongue before shoving a folded ladder toward you. “hold this.”

“…you asked.”

“don’t make it weird.”

you grabbed the ladder while he climbed up toward the ceiling lights.

for a minute, neither of you spoke. around you, the classroom buzzed with noise and movement, but the silence between you felt oddly comfortable. which was concerning.

“left,” bakugo said suddenly.

“bossy.”

“move.” you adjusted the ladder slightly while glaring upward. “you know, normal people say thank you.”

“normal people don’t almost drop ladders.”

“i literally didn’t.”

“yet.”

you scoffed while he smirked slightly from the top step. slightly. which somehow felt illegal. before you could recover from the fact that bakugo katsuki apparently knew how to smile, mina burst into the conversation dramatically.

“bakugooooo.”

“what.”

“we need volunteers for the games.”

“find someone else.”

“you’re scary. scary people attract customers.”

“that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”

“and yet i’m right.”

you laughed again before you could stop yourself. bakugo glanced down at you automatically, and for one second his expression softened. then kirishima yelled from across the room, “yo, bakugo! catch!”

a roll of tape flew across the classroom. bakugo caught it one-handed without even turning around.

show-off.

the rest of the afternoon passed in loud chaos. you helped organize supplies while bakugo barked orders at everyone across the room like an angry project manager pretending he wasn’t carrying half the setup himself.

he looked annoyingly good doing it too. which was a problem. by evening, the classroom finally looked complete. warm string lights glowed across the ceiling while colorful banners hung neatly around the walls. you stood near the entrance staring around the room.

“…okay,” you admitted quietly. “it actually looks good.”

“obviously.”

you startled slightly. bakugo stood beside you now holding two canned drinks. he held one out awkwardly without looking directly at you. “…thanks.”

“don’t mention it.”

you opened the can carefully.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. outside the classroom, the hallways buzzed with noise from other classes preparing for tomorrow, but inside things had calmed down considerably.

it felt strangely peaceful.

dangerously peaceful.

“you worked harder than i expected,” bakugo said suddenly.

you blinked at him. “…was that a compliment?”

“don’t piss me off.”

“holy shit.”

“i’m taking it back.”

you grinned despite yourself. “too late.”

he scoffed, leaning against the wall beside you. “you were less annoying today too.”

“wow,” you deadpanned. “how romantic.”

bakugo nearly choked on his drink. actually choked. you stared at him while he glared back looking genuinely offended. “that’s not what i meant.”

“relax, i know.”

except now your heartbeat felt weirdly uneven. and judging by the irritated look on his face, he felt off too. before either of you could make things more awkward, mina suddenly appeared.

“there you are! class photo time.”

“no.”

“yes.”

five minutes later, the entire class crowded together near the front entrance while jiro attempted to organize everyone. chaos erupted instantly. kaminari kept making stupid faces. sero refused to stand still. mina was threatening violence over spacing. you ended up beside bakugo completely by accident.

probably.

“move closer together,” mina ordered from behind the camera.

“absolutely not,” bakugo said immediately.

“absolutely yes.”

before you could react, kirishima shoved both of you sideways. you stumbled directly into bakugo’s chest. his hand grabbed your arm automatically to steady you.

everything paused.

just for a second.

his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist while your shoulder pressed against him. close enough to feel warmth through his sleeve. close enough to notice the brief surprise in his eyes.

neither of you moved away immediately.

flash.

the camera captured the exact moment both of you realized it.

“OOOOOH MY GOD-”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, DENKI.”

The Beach Episode

the beach was somehow even louder than the festival, which honestly felt impressive. waves crashed against the shore while half of class 1-a sprinted across the sand screaming like escaped children. mina and kaminari were already fighting over a volleyball, kirishima was trying to drag bakugo toward the water against his will, and iida was yelling beach safety rules loud enough for nearby families to hear. you regretted agreeing to this immediately.

“why are they all acting like they’ve never seen water before?” you muttered.

jirou shrugged beside you from underneath the umbrella. “because they share one collective braincell.”

“fair.”

you adjusted your sunglasses slightly while staring out toward the ocean. the class had decided on a beach trip after the festival was finally over, mostly because everyone claimed they “deserved a break.” you personally thought sitting in the dorms quietly would’ve been a better reward, but apparently you were outvoted. tragically.

“HEY!”

you looked up just in time for a volleyball to smack directly into your shoulder.

“ow- what the hell?!”

“my bad!” kaminari shouted from across the sand.

“i’m gonna kill you!”

“get in line!” bakugo yelled from somewhere near the shoreline. you turned automatically, which was your first mistake. because bakugo was currently standing near the water wearing a black tank top and swim shorts, sunlight hitting his skin while his damp blond hair stuck messily around his forehead. stupid. annoyingly stupid.

you looked away immediately. “you good?” jirou asked slowly.

“…fine.”

she hummed suspiciously, but thankfully didn’t push it further. unfortunately, ignoring your problems stopped working about ten minutes later when mina practically launched herself at you. “beach game time!”

“absolutely not.”

“absolutely yes.”

before you could escape, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you across the sand toward the others while you complained the entire way there.

“mina-“

“teams are already decided!”

“that sounds fake.”

“too bad.”

you stumbled to a stop near the volleyball net while everyone else gathered around. mina clapped her hands dramatically.

“okay! teams are-”

she paused.

then grinned.

oh no.

“bakugo and y/n versus everyone else.”

you stared at her. bakugo stared at her.

“what.”

“have fun!” mina said cheerfully before sprinting away before either of you could explode.

silence settled between you both for a second before you muttered, “they’re dead.”

“definitely.”

you glanced sideways at bakugo. he already looked irritated, which was normal, except now you were painfully aware of dumb things you shouldn’t have been noticing. like the way his arms flexed when he crossed them. or the water dripping down the side of his neck.

“quit staring.” your eyes widened instantly. “i literally wasn’t.”

his mouth twitched slightly.

asshole.

the game started chaotically almost immediately, mostly because nobody in class 1-a knew how to behave normally. kaminari dove dramatically for every ball even when it wasn’t close to him, mina kept cheating on purpose, and kirishima somehow got distracted halfway through by a crab.

meanwhile, bakugo was terrifyingly competitive.

“MOVE.”

you barely dodged as he spiked the volleyball hard enough to nearly send sero into another dimension.

“JESUS CHRIST,” sero yelled.

“GET BETTER.”

you snorted at that, earning a quick glance from bakugo. “what’s funny?”

“you’re taking beach volleyball like it’s life or death.”

“because idiots keep missing easy shots.”

“you know this is supposed to be relaxing, right?”

“winning is relaxing.”

“that’s psychotic.”

“and yet we’re still beating them.”

unfortunately, he was right. mostly because bakugo refused to lose at literally anything. you’d noticed that awhile ago. whether it was training, classwork, cooking, or apparently volleyball, he threw himself into everything completely. it was frustratingly admirable. which you hated.

“heads up!”

you turned too late. the volleyball slammed directly toward your face, but before you could react, a hand grabbed your arm hard and yanked you sideways.

you crashed directly into bakugo’s chest while the ball flew harmlessly past behind you.

everything paused.

his hand still gripped your arm tightly, your face way too close to his. close enough to notice tiny freckles across his skin. close enough to feel warmth radiating off him despite the ocean breeze. close enough that your brain completely stopped functioning.

“…watch it,” he muttered quietly.

you blinked up at him. for once, he didn’t immediately let go.

then kaminari screamed from across the beach, “ARE YOU TWO GONNA KISS OR-“

“SHUT THE HELL UP.”

bakugo released you instantly. your heartbeat felt violently uneven.

cool.

awesome.

you wanted to drown yourself in the ocean. “thanks,” you muttered awkwardly.

he looked away immediately. “you were about to get nailed in the face.”

“your concern is touching.”

“don’t make it weird.”

too late. everything already felt weird.

the game dissolved into chaos after that. mina buried hagakure in sand, kirishima attempted surfing and failed instantly, and tokoyami somehow found the single darkest corner of the beach and refused to leave it.

throughout all of it, you became painfully aware of bakugo nearby. every laugh, every insult, every accidental glance- it was irritating. especially because he seemed just as aware of you too.

you caught him looking several times throughout the afternoon, and every single time he scowled immediately after getting caught like that somehow fixed it.

idiot.

later, after everyone tired themselves out enough to stop screaming for five consecutive minutes, you wandered closer to the shoreline alone. the sunset had started painting the water orange and pink while waves rolled gently against the sand.

finally.

peace.

“thought you hated the beach.” you looked over to find bakugo standing a few feet away holding two drinks again. why did he keep doing that?

“…i hate crowds,” you corrected.

“same difference.”

he handed one toward you and you accepted it carefully. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the sounds of your classmates yelling carried faintly from farther down the beach, but out here things felt quieter.

calmer.

dangerously calmer.

“you played decent earlier,” bakugo said suddenly. you nearly dropped the drink.

“…wow.”

“don’t start.”

“no, i’m just shocked you voluntarily admitted i’m good at something.”

“you’re still annoying.”

“there he is.” his mouth twitched again. that almost-smile. the one that kept catching you off guard lately. you stared at him before you could stop yourself. bakugo noticed immediately.

“…what?”

“nothing.”

“you’re doing it again.”

“doing what?”

“looking at me weird.” your face heated instantly. “i am literally not.”

“yeah, okay.” you glared at him while he smirked slightly into his drink. smug bastard.

a loud scream suddenly echoed from behind you both.

“GROUP PHOTO!”

you groaned instantly while bakugo muttered, “absolutely not,” beside you.

“too late!” mina yelled while sprinting toward you both. “everyone together!”

five minutes later, the class crowded near the shoreline while mina balanced her phone against a cooler. chaos erupted immediately. kaminari kept throwing sand, iida was yelling about proper posture, and sero attempted to push bakugo into the water twice.

you ended up standing beside bakugo again somehow.

suspicious.

“scoot closer!” mina yelled.

“no.”

“yes.”

before either of you could argue further, a wave suddenly crashed against the shore harder than expected. water slammed into your legs and you lost your balance instantly.

“shit-”

bakugo grabbed your waist automatically before you could fall backward. everything froze. his hand pressed firmly against your side while your hands caught against his chest. way too close. again.

you looked up at the exact same time he looked down, and that weird tension snapped tight between you both instantly.

flash.

the picture captured the exact moment neither of you moved away.

“OH MY GOD THEY DID IT AGAIN-”

“DENKI I’LL KILL YOU.”

The Accidental Intimacy Episode

it started because mina was annoying.

actually, correction.

it started because mina, kaminari, and sero together were a public safety hazard.

“absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“absolutely yes,” mina replied.

“why would i agree to this?”

“because it’ll be funny.”

“that’s not convincing.”

“because i already signed you up.”

you stared at her in horror. across the common room, kaminari burst into laughter while sero nearly fell off the couch.

traitors.

class 1-a had somehow decided game night was a good idea after training, which normally wouldn’t have been terrible except mina had brought “couples challenge” cards she apparently found online. which was already bad enough.

then teams got assigned. and somehow-

through either horrible luck or deliberate sabotage-

you got paired with bakugo.

“i hate all of you,” you muttered.

“the feeling’s mutual,” bakugo said from beside you.

“wow. heartbreaking.” he rolled his eyes while everyone else gathered around the table looking way too excited about this. you immediately knew nothing good would come from it.

you were right.

“okay!” mina announced dramatically while shuffling cards. “first challenge!”

you already wanted to leave. mina pulled a card and immediately started grinning. that was never a good sign. “oooooh.”

“what,” bakugo said suspiciously.

mina looked directly at both of you. “sit in your partner’s lap for one minute.” silence.

you blinked.

bakugo blinked.

then-

“absolutely the hell not.”

“language! it says you lose points if you refuse!” mina sang.

“who made these stupid rules?”

“me.”

“that explains a lot.” you groaned loudly while the rest of the class started yelling over each other.

“DO IT.”

“this is gonna be hilarious.”

“bakugo looks terrified.”

“SHUT UP.”

you rubbed your face tiredly. “it’s one minute. just survive it.” bakugo looked personally offended by your calmness.

“easy for you to say.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“…nothing.”

weird answer.

before you could question it, mina slammed a timer onto the table dramatically. “go!”

everyone immediately started cheering obnoxiously. you glared at the entire class before turning toward bakugo. he looked deeply unhappy about this. good. so did you.

“move over,” you muttered.

“i hate this.”

“same.”

very carefully, and with significantly more embarrassment than you wanted to admit, you lowered yourself onto his lap. the room exploded instantly.

“OH MY GOD.”

“HE’S RED.”

“DENKI I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TAKE A PICTURE-”

“TOO LATE.”

your entire body went rigid immediately. this was awful. bakugo was warm. way too warm. one of his hands hovered awkwardly near your waist like he didn’t know where to put it, while your shoulder pressed against his chest. way too close. you became painfully aware of literally everything. his breathing. the warmth of his hands. the fact that his knees flexed slightly underneath you when you shifted. horrible. absolutely horrible.

“…quit moving,” he muttered quietly near your ear. your brain short-circuited slightly.

“i literally adjusted once.”

“yeah well don’t.”

“you’re the one tense as hell.”

“wonder why.”

you opened your mouth to argue back before realizing half the class was staring at you both like this was the greatest moment of their lives. “why are they acting like we’re getting married?” you whispered.

“because they’re idiots.”

“fair.”

for one brief second, neither of you spoke. and somehow that felt worse. because now you could feel how close he actually was. your back pressed against his chest. his arm brushing yours. every tiny movement. your heartbeat started acting stupid.

which was deeply irritating. “…you’re warm,” you blurted out accidentally.

silence.

then bakugo froze completely underneath you.

oh no.

OH NO.

slowly, very slowly, you turned your head slightly. his face was bright red. completely red. you stared at him. he stared back looking absolutely furious about it.

“don’t say weird shit like that.”

“i didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“well you did.”

“unfortunate for both of us.”

kaminari was wheezing somewhere across the room. “you guys are actually insane.”

“shut up,” both you and bakugo snapped simultaneously. that only made everyone laugh harder. finally, mina yelled, “TIME!” you stood up so fast you nearly tripped over the coffee table.

bakugo looked equally traumatized. “never again,” he muttered immediately.

“agreed.”

except neither of you looked at each other afterward. which honestly made it more obvious. especially when kirishima started grinning. “you guys are acting weird again.”

“we are acting normal,” you argued.

“you almost fell getting off his lap.”

“because your game is stupid.”

“sure,” mina said smugly.

you grabbed a pillow and threw it directly at her face.

The Misunderstanding Episode

the misunderstanding started because bakugo had terrible timing. and because kaminari talked too much. honestly, both were recurring problems.

training had ended an hour ago, and most of class 1-a was scattered around the dorm common room pretending to study while actually doing anything except studying.

you sat cross-legged on the couch beside kirishima while he helped you fix the strap on one of your training gauntlets.

“hold still,” he laughed. “you’re making this harder.”

“because you’re taking forever.”

“wow. no appreciation for my hard work.”

“correct.” kirishima gasped dramatically while tightening the strap. across the room, kaminari nearly choked on his drink laughing. “you guys seriously act like an old married couple.”

“die,” you answered automatically.

unfortunately, that was the exact moment bakugo walked into the common room. you didn’t notice at first. mostly because kirishima suddenly grabbed your wrist to inspect the gauntlet closer.

“nah, see? it fits now.”

“finally.”

“you owe me.”

“i owe you nothing.”

“rude.”

then the room suddenly got quieter.

weirdly quieter.

you looked up. bakugo stood near the dorm entrance staring directly at you and kirishima. his expression looked…

off.

not angry exactly.

worse.

blank.

“yo, bakugo,” kirishima greeted casually. “what’s with your face?”

“nothing.”

immediate lie. even kaminari looked confused.

bakugo’s eyes flicked briefly toward where kirishima still held your wrist before he looked away completely.

“training tomorrow got moved earlier,” he said flatly. “aizawa told me to tell you idiots.”

then he turned around and walked right back upstairs. silence filled the common room for about three seconds.

“…what was that?” mina asked slowly. you frowned toward the staircase. “i dunno.”

kaminari suddenly gasped dramatically.

oh no.

“WAIT.”

everyone turned toward him reluctantly. he pointed between you and the stairs like he’d solved a murder case.

“he thought you guys were flirting.”

silence.

then kirishima burst out laughing. like full-body, tears-in-his-eyes laughing.

“there’s no way.”

“oh my god,” mina whispered. “that’s EXACTLY what that was.”

your stomach flipped weirdly. “…that’s stupid.”

except suddenly you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on bakugo’s face.

blank.

cold.

and weirdly irritated.

which honestly shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.

“you should go talk to him,” jirou said.

“why?”

“because now he’s probably upstairs committing emotional repression.”

“that sounds fake.”

“does it?”

fair point.

you stared toward the staircase another second before groaning loudly. “if i die, blame all of you.”

“already do,” kaminari replied immediately. you threw a pillow at his head before heading upstairs.

bakugo’s door was slightly open when you reached his room. that alone felt suspicious. you knocked once against the doorframe.

“what.”

you peeked inside. bakugo sat at his desk still wearing part of his training gear, arms crossed tightly while homework sat untouched in front of him. he looked up briefly before immediately looking back down.

“…what do you want?”

okay.

definitely weird.

“why are you acting like that?”

“like what?”

“like someone killed your houseplants.”

“i don’t have houseplants.”

“you know what i mean.”

he clicked his tongue in annoyance without answering. you leaned against the doorway, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“did something happen?”

“no.”

lie.

again.

silence stretched awkwardly for a second.

then-

“you and kirishima dating now or something?” your brain completely stopped.

“…what?”

bakugo still refused to look directly at you.

“you were all over each other downstairs.”

it took every ounce of self-control not to laugh immediately. “he was fixing my gauntlet.”

“looked real friendly.”

“…are you jealous?”

the words slipped out before you could stop them.

mistake.

huge mistake.

bakugo’s head snapped toward you instantly.

“WHAT? no.”

too fast.

way too fast.

you stared at him.

he stared back looking deeply offended by the question. which honestly just made it worse.

oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

you bit the inside of your cheek hard trying not to smile.

“bakugo.”

“what.”

“…you thought kirishima and i were flirting.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you literally just did.”

“shut up.”

you actually laughed this time. bakugo looked personally betrayed by the sound. “you’re insane,” he muttered.

“you got jealous.”

“i did not.”

“you looked ready to fistfight a couch.”

“i hate you.”

“no you don’t.”

silence.

the second the words left your mouth, the atmosphere changed.

slightly.

but enough.

bakugo stared at you for half a second too long.

your heartbeat immediately did something stupid.

cool.

awesome.

you looked away first.

“for the record,” you said quickly, “kirishima and i aren’t dating.”

“…didn’t ask.”

“you literally did.”

“whatever.”

except now he looked less irritated than before. which was concerning. you shifted awkwardly near the doorway. “so… are you done being weird?”

“depends.”

“on?”

“you gonna keep laughing about this?”

“…absolutely.”

“then no.”

you grinned despite yourself. bakugo rolled his eyes, but there was something different about his expression now. lighter, maybe.

less guarded.

dangerous.

very dangerous.

before either of you could say something potentially life ruining, kaminari suddenly appeared in the hallway.

“SOOOOO,” he started loudly, “are we confessing feelings or-”

an explosion blasted straight past his head.

“GET OUT.”

The Protecting You Episode

it happened during patrol training. which honestly should’ve been your first warning. the exercise started normally enough. class 1-a had been split into groups and sent through a mock city while pro heroes monitored from nearby rooftops. your assignment was simple: locate civilians, avoid traps, and neutralize villains as efficiently as possible.

easy.

at least, it was supposed to be.

“i still think i got stuck with the worst team,” you muttered while walking beside bakugo through the empty street.

“good,” he answered immediately.

“you’re so pleasant.”

“and you’re slow.”

“i literally kept up with you.”

“barely.”

you rolled your eyes while scanning the alleyways nearby. the fake city was eerily quiet except for distant explosions somewhere on the other side of the training grounds.

probably todoroki.

or bakugo from five minutes ago.

“you know,” you said casually, “normal people can hold conversations without sounding homicidal.”

“normal people don’t talk as much as you.”

“rude.”

“accurate.”

before you could argue back, your communicator crackled suddenly. “civilian spotted two blocks east,” aizawa’s voice echoed through the speaker. “possible villain activity nearby.”

bakugo clicked his tongue immediately. “finally.” you followed after him through the empty street while trying not to trip over broken pavement. the second you turned the corner, though, something felt wrong.

too quiet.

again.

you slowed slightly. “…bakugo.”

“what.”

“does this feel suspicious to you?”

“everything feels suspicious to you.”

“that’s because i’m usually right.”

he opened his mouth to argue-

then an explosion suddenly blasted through the side of the building beside you. everything happened too fast. debris crashed into the street while smoke filled the air instantly. you barely had time to react before something grabbed your arm hard.

bakugo.

he yanked you backward just as another blast hit the ground where you’d been standing seconds earlier.

“MOVE,” he barked.

you stumbled after him while explosions echoed around the alley.

“what the hell-?!”

“ambush,” bakugo snapped. “obviously.”

three training robots dropped into the street ahead of you, red warning lights flashing across metal armor.

oh.

great.

“seriously?” you groaned.

the robots launched forward immediately. bakugo blasted one apart without hesitation while you dodged another strike aimed toward your head. metal claws scraped against the pavement inches from your feet.

“left side!” you shouted.

“i SEE IT.”

another explosion lit the alleyway. normally, you worked well under pressure.

normally.

except one of the robots suddenly shifted direction faster than expected, steel arm swinging directly toward you before you could dodge properly.

shit.

you barely raised your arms in time-

but the impact never came. instead, a loud explosion erupted in front of you while heat blasted across your skin.

bakugo.

he’d moved between you and the robot instantly, one arm thrown across your shoulder while the other blasted the machine backward hard enough to send it crashing through a wall. everything froze for half a second. you stared up at him. he looked furious.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snapped.

“…trying not to die?”

“try harder.”

except his arm was still wrapped protectively across you. like he hadn’t even noticed yet. another robot charged toward you both. bakugo shoved you behind him automatically. “stay back.”

your brain short-circuited slightly. “…bakugo.”

“for once, just listen.”

the robot lunged. bakugo destroyed it instantly smoke drifted through the alley as the last pieces of metal crashed against the pavement. silence settled around you both except for your uneven breathing. then slowly, bakugo turned back toward you. “you hit?” he asked.

you blinked. “…what?”

“are. you. hurt.”

his voice sounded sharper than usual. tense.

worried.

that realization hit harder than the explosions did.

“…i’m fine,” you answered quietly.

bakugo stared at you another second like he was double-checking before finally stepping back.

except now the space between you felt weird.

different.

your heartbeat started acting stupid again.

cool.

awesome.

in the distance, your communicator crackled once more.

“exercise complete,” aizawa’s voice said calmly. “good work.”

neither of you moved immediately.

then-

“you suck at dodging,” bakugo muttered.

and there he was. you snorted despite yourself. “you literally threw yourself in front of me.”

“because you were being reckless.”

“you were worried.”

“don’t start.” you grinned slightly while he looked away with visible annoyance. except the tips of his ears were red.

interesting.

very interesting.

The “What Are We” Episode

the problem started because mina wouldn’t stop talking. which honestly described most problems in your life lately. “you guys are basically dating already.”

“we literally are not,” you answered immediately. mina looked unconvinced.

across the lunch table, kaminari nodded dramatically. “you’re together constantly.”

“you fight like a married couple,” jirou added.

“bakugo only willingly shares food with, like, three people,” kirishima pointed out. “and you’re one of them.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “that means nothing.”

“sure,” mina said smugly.

you hated that everyone suddenly looked so confident. because the worst part? they weren’t entirely wrong. somewhere along the way, things with bakugo had shifted again.

the insults were still there, obviously. neither of you knew how to function normally around each other. but now there were other things too.

him automatically saving you a seat during class. you bringing him extra drinks without thinking about it. late-night conversations in the dorm kitchen that somehow lasted hours. accidentally brushing hands and suddenly forgetting how words worked.

it was weird.

dangerously weird.

and apparently everyone else noticed.

“you should just ask him,” mina said.

your soul nearly left your body. “absolutely not.”

“why?”

“because i enjoy surviving.”

“coward.” correct.

unfortunately, the universe apparently hated you because later that evening, you found yourself alone with bakugo in the dorm kitchen.

of course.

he stood at the counter making food while you searched through the fridge for something to drink. the room stayed quiet except for the occasional sound of pans clattering against the stove.

normal.

completely normal.

then bakugo spoke suddenly.

“why were extras staring at us all day?”

your entire body stiffened instantly. “…what?”

“dumbass hair and the others,” he clarified. “they kept looking at us weird.”

oh.

great.

you grabbed a drink mostly to avoid eye contact. “they’re just annoying.”

“yeah, no shit.”

silence settled again. your heartbeat started speeding up stupidly. because now all you could think about was what mina said earlier.

you should just ask him.

absolutely not.

except apparently your mouth had other plans.

“…what are we?”

the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to launch yourself through the nearest window.

silence.

complete silence.

slowly, you looked up.

bakugo had completely frozen.

“…what?”

too late to recover now.

awesome.

you stared at your drink instead of him. “everyone keeps acting like we’re… something.”

“something,” he repeated flatly.

“you know what i mean.”

another long silence stretched between you both.

then-

“do you want us to be?”

your brain immediately stopped functioning. you looked up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. bakugo still faced the counter, but now the tips of his ears were bright red.

oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

“…i asked first,” you said weakly.

“that’s not an answer.”

“neither was yours.”

he clicked his tongue in annoyance, but it sounded less aggressive than usual. more nervous. which somehow felt worse.

you stared at each other awkwardly across the kitchen while tension filled the entire room.

then bakugo sighed sharply.

“i dunno,” he muttered. “whatever this is.”

your heartbeat skipped stupidly. because somehow that answer felt more honest than anything else he could’ve said.

whatever this is.

confusing.

messy.

weirdly intense.

and definitely not just hatred anymore.

“…that’s a terrible answer,” you mumbled.

“yeah, well.” bakugo finally looked at you directly. “you still haven’t answered either.”

your face heated instantly.

before you could respond, loud footsteps suddenly thundered down the hallway. “WAIT ARE THEY CONFESSING?!” kaminari yelled somewhere nearby. both you and bakugo jumped apart immediately.

“GET OUT,” bakugo shouted as mina’s screaming laughter echoed through the dorms.

The Confession Episode

the confession happened because class 1-a finally got tired of waiting. which honestly should’ve been expected.

“you’re both idiots,” mina announced dramatically. you looked up from your homework with immediate suspicion. “what did we do now?”

“existing,” kaminari answered.

across the common room, bakugo clicked his tongue in annoyance. “if you extras have something to say, say it already.”

“GLADLY,” mina said.

oh no.

you recognized that tone. that was her “i’m about to ruin someone’s life for entertainment” voice.

“you two have been doing whatever this weird unresolved thing is for months,” she continued while pointing aggressively between you and bakugo. “and we’re over it.”

“over what?” you asked cautiously.

“the tension,” jirou answered flatly.

“it’s exhausting.”

“you flirt constantly,” sero added.

“you stare at each other like you’re in a romance movie,” kaminari said.

“you almost died because neither of you can communicate.”

“THAT HAPPENED ONE TIME,” you argued.

“THREE TIMES,” mina corrected.

bakugo looked deeply irritated now. “why the hell are we having this conversation?”

“because someone has to fix your emotional constipation.”

silence.

then kirishima burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch. even you covered your face trying not to laugh. bakugo looked genuinely murderous. “i’m gonna start throwing people through walls.”

“see?” mina pointed dramatically. “deflection.”

“okay, enough,” you interrupted before actual violence started. “what exactly do you people want from us?”

the entire room went silent.

then-

“confess already,” everyone answered together.

your soul left your body instantly. you stared at them in horror. beside you, bakugo looked equally traumatized.

“absolutely not,” both of you said immediately.

“cowards,” jirou muttered.

you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it directly at her face before standing up dramatically. “i’m leaving.”

“same,” bakugo snapped.

unfortunately, both of you headed toward the dorm balcony at the exact same time.

awkward.

neither of you spoke while stepping outside. cool night air drifted across the balcony while muffled laughter echoed from inside the dorms.

traitors.

you leaned against the railing with a groan. “i’m gonna kill all of them.”

“get in line.”

silence settled between you both. except now it felt heavier than usual. because neither of you could ignore what everyone had said anymore. not after the “what are we” conversation. not after all the weird almost-moments lately. your heartbeat started speeding up again.

annoying.

“they’re idiots,” you muttered finally.

“yeah.”

“dramatic too.”

“definitely.”

another pause.

then-

“…they’re not completely wrong though.” your stomach dropped. slowly, you looked sideways. bakugo still stared straight ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tense enough to crack concrete.

you blinked once.

“…what?”

he clicked his tongue sharply like he already regretted speaking. “don’t make me repeat myself.”

except your brain had completely stopped functioning. because bakugo katsuki-

bakugo katsuki-

had basically just admitted-

“oh my god.”

“quit saying that.”

“no, because what the hell?”

he finally turned toward you, visibly irritated now. except his face was red. completely red. which somehow made this feel even more real. “you seriously didn’t figure it out yet?” he asked.

“YOU call me dense?”

“yeah.”

“rude.”

“accurate.”

despite everything, you laughed. and something in bakugo’s expression softened immediately at the sound. there it was again. that dangerous look. the one that always made your chest feel too tight.

your smile faded slightly. “…wait,” you said quietly. “are you actually confessing right now?”

silence.

bakugo stared at you for one long second before groaning loudly and dragging a hand down his face. “obviously.”

your heart nearly exploded. “you’re terrible at this.”

“shut up.”

“that wasn’t even romantic.”

“do i look like i know how to be romantic?” fair point. you laughed again softly, and this time bakugo didn’t look away. he just watched you quietly. nervously. which honestly felt impossible for him.

your chest tightened painfully. “for the record,” you said, “i like you too.”

bakugo froze.

completely.

“…yeah?”

you grinned slightly. “yeah.”

for one second, he just stared at you. then suddenly his hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer before he could apparently think better of it. your breath caught instantly.

“you’re still annoying,” he muttered quietly.

“wow,” you whispered back. “your romance skills are incredible.”

“keep talking and i’m taking it back.”

“no you’re not.”

“…yeah,” he admitted after a second. “probably not.”

you don’t even get a second to process it properly. bakugo is still holding your wrist, like he’s half expecting you to disappear if he lets go. his expression is caught somewhere between irritated and relieved, like he’s mad at himself for finally saying it out loud.

“you’re still annoying,” he mutters again, quieter this time.

“yeah,” you answer softly, “you already said that.”

his grip tightens slightly, not painful, just… there. real. for a moment, neither of you move. the dorm lights glow behind the glass door, and inside you can hear faint shouting from the others who are definitely celebrating this way too loudly. bakugo clicks his tongue like he’s about to say something else, then stops. his eyes flick down to your mouth for a split second.

that’s enough to short-circuit everything. you don’t even think-you just move a little closer first, like your body decides for you before your brain can argue.

bakugo freezes.

completely.

then, instead of pulling away, he leans in too, slower than his usual everything, like he’s actually giving himself time to not mess it up.

it’s quick. not dramatic. not flashy.

just a kiss-brief, warm, a little clumsy in a way neither of you would ever admit out loud.

when you pull back, there’s a beat of silence so intense it feels louder than mina screaming inside the dorm.

bakugo is still holding your wrist.

he doesn’t let go.

“…you’re still annoying,” he says again, but his voice is rougher now. you huff out a laugh, breath uneven. “you already said that part too.”

his ears are red again. “shut up.”

Why is the class princess always a mess around Bakugo ⋆˚꩜｡

MINORS DNI 18+ .ᐟ.ᐟ

If U.A. ever handed out unofficial titles, yours would’ve been embroidered on a satin banner by now: Class 1-A’s princess.

Not literally, though with the way Mina decorated your side of the dorm hallway in pink fairy lights, it wasn’t hard to imagine, but socially? Totally. Completely. Irrefutably.

Sparkles followed you like loyal sidekicks. Your quirk, Glimmer Bloom, produced tiny bursts of colourful light that sparkled around you when you got excited, which was often.

You didn’t have the brute force of Kirishima, or Todoroki’s icy cool control, or Midoriya’s endless strategy spirals, but you had style, charm, and a hero costume so cute Aoyama nearly cried when he saw it.

You always knew everyone’s birthdays, kept backup lip gloss in your desk for emergencies, and brought pastel cupcakes to study sessions “because morale is important.”

Even Aizawa, tired, eye-bagged, living embodiment of a sigh, softened a millimetre when you cheerfully handed him herbal tea on late training nights. You were sunshine. Glitter. Kisses in human form.

And then there was Bakugo Katsuki.

The reason your sunshine occasionally short-circuited.

Katsuki has already turned sixteen by the time you wake up from your coma. Despite the late nights he spends at the hospital by your side, when you wake up, he is inevitably, at school. You wake up to Mitsuki Bakugo holding your hand.

Tags/CW: Bakugo x fem! Reader, high school sweethearts, estab! relationship, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, reader in a coma after the war, class 2-A is a soft menace, mom (in law lmao) Mitsuki is mothering, spoilers for season 8.

Despite it being hard to accept at the state you find yourself in, or even realise it at first, Mitsuki is the one by your bedside when you wake up.

For a second you’re convinced you’re dreaming. The room is too bright, the sheets too stiff, and Katsuki’s mom is sitting there like she fought her way past three nurses and a steel door just to sit and stare at you. Which, knowing her, she probably did.

Her arms are crossed, but her foot is tapping like she’s been waiting a long time. Like she’s been worried. And that solemn look on her face is screaming an apology you don’t recognise yet.

“’Bout time,” she mutters, voice sharp but thin around the edges. “You scared the hell out of us, kid.”

preferably canon katsuki, as in, he doesn’t say more than like a sentence at a time, majorly grumpy but absolutely whipped for (y/n), just doesn’t want to admit it. I give you creative rein for the rest 🙂‍↕️

mwah kisses u thank you ily

𝓢𝓪𝔂 𝓘𝓽, 𝓓𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

Summary: You swore up and down Bakugou hated your guts—just like everyone else’s. But then he started walking you home, checking up on you, and picking fights that felt a little too personal. You didn’t know what to think. It took Mina, a party, and one reckless night to make you realize he might actually be into you—for real this time.

C/W: Fingering, cream pie, praising, sub reader, Dom Bakugou , unprotected sex, rough sex, fem reviving, multiple rounds, messy sex, service kink kinda

Wc:5.5k

An: Day 17, Sorry, I got a little behind, so this is kind of super late. Went and fixed some of the grammar, so hopefully it flows better @blushinglemon

Your day ends later than usual, the sun long gone by the time you trudge down the agency steps. Patrol ran over. Paperwork ran over. Hell, your breathing ran over. All you want is sleep. You don’t expect anyone else to still be here—especially not him.

Katsuki Bakugou is leaning against the railing outside, arms crossed, eyes on his phone. The streetlight casts gold over his ash-blond hair and the furrow between his brows. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.

“…You’re late.”

That’s it. No hello, no “are you okay?” Just that.

You blink. “I had extra reports.”

“Tch.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. You’re not sure if he’s annoyed… or relieved.

You move past him, worn out. “You didn’t have to wait.”

“I wasn’t waiting,” he snaps immediately.

Of course not. Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t wait for anyone. He just happens to be here—at the exact time you finish. Every night. You sigh and start walking. He follows a few steps behind—silent, heavy-footed. Your accidental shadow.

Halfway down the block, exhaustion catches up to you. You stumble slightly—nothing serious, just clumsy fatigue. You don’t fall, but he clicks his tongue behind you.

“Watch it,” he mutters, still not looking at you.

You glance back. “Why are you even walking me home?”

“Crime, dumbass,” he replies instantly, clipped and rough. “The city’s not safe.”

You hum. “Hm. That must be it.”

His eyes flick to yours—sharp, dangerous. Don’t push it.

You don’t speak again until you reach your door. You turn softly. “Bakugou—”

He’s already looking away, fists jammed in his pockets, jaw tight as if the words choke him. His foot taps once—impatiently. That familiar twitch of nerves he’ll never acknowledge.

You smile. “…Thank you.”

He scoffs but doesn’t walk away.

Silence hangs. Long. Heavy. Then—

“…Text me. When you’re inside.”

Barely above a whisper. Rough. Strained. Like it physically hurts him to say it.

Your chest tightens. “…Katsuki.”

He finally looks at you. Really looks. Eyes blazing, everything loud in the way he doesn’t move.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he mutters, low.

You step closer, brave. “Say what?”

His nostrils flare. He hates this game. Hates that you know he won’t win it. His hand twitches—like he wants to touch you and won’t let himself.

“Just—” his teeth grit, “hurry and go inside.”

You nod, stepping back. But before you turn, you rise onto your toes and kiss his cheek.

He freezes—absolutely, completely paralyzed.

You whisper, “Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You don’t wait for a response as you slip inside. The door clicks shut. Outside, under the dim streetlight, Katsuki Bakugou presses his palm to the cheek you kissed, scowling at nothing.

“…Damn woman,” he mutters under his breath.

But he doesn’t move until he gets your text.

“I’m home.”

His reply comes seconds later: “Good.”

After that, you throw yourself into bed and finally let exhaustion pull you under.

The next afternoon, you meet Mina and a few of your friends at her apartment to pick out something for the party Denki’s agency is throwing. The three of you scatter across her bedroom, tossing dresses, skirts, and tops onto the bed, laughing and critiquing each other’s choices.

“This one’s too plain,” Mina says, holding up a glittery top. “You need something that says, ‘I’m fun and sexy, but also classy.’”

You giggle, spinning in front of the mirror in a fitted fur jacket over a simple dress. “Sexy me?”

“Absolutely, girl. Gotta look your best,” Mina teases, smirking. “Especially if you want Bakugou to see you.”

You freeze mid-twirl. “Wait… no way he actually likes me for real, right?” You laugh nervously, brushing it off.

Mina raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh, come on. You know he’s obsessed. The way he follows you around, the way he glares at anyone else looking at you… that’s textbook Bakugou behavior.”

“Obsessed?!” You protest, trying not to laugh too loudly. “Nah, that’s just him being annoying, not—”

“Pfft, sure,” Mina interrupts, rolling her eyes playfully. “Keep telling yourself that, but we all see it. He’s completely whipped, whether he admits it or not.”

You shake your head, smiling but a little flustered. “Yeah, sure. He’s not really like that. He’s grumpy, always has a million other things on his mind…”

“Uh-huh,” Mina says, waving her hand. “Grumpy and secretly in love. Classic Bakugou. Don’t worry, you’ll see at the party.”

You laugh, trying to push the thought away, but there’s a flutter in your chest that you can’t ignore. The rest of the afternoon is spent trying on options, teasing each other, and debating shoes. Every laugh, every twirl makes your anticipation for the party grow—and somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t help thinking about who’s going to be there waiting for you.

The evening of the party arrives faster than expected. The Heights Alliance lounge buzzes with laughter, music, and the occasional shout from a game gone wrong. You step inside, feeling the thrill of being among friends, but your thoughts can’t help drifting to one person in particular.

Bakugou is already there, leaning against the arm of a couch with his usual scowl, arms crossed. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone unless necessary—and of course, his eyes immediately find you. There’s a tightness in his jaw you can’t miss, a subtle tension that makes your stomach flip.

You take a deep breath and weave through the crowd to find your friends, laughing when Mina shoves you lightly.

“See? I told you—he’s going to be staring all night.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Yeah, right. He’s just… grumpy.”

Mina winks knowingly. “Sure, keep telling yourself that, babes.”

Your attention shifts to the doorway as Monoma struts in, a smug grin plastered across his face. He immediately spots you.

“Ah, you must be the famous cutie Denki’s always talking about—the one that hangs out with that lame guy Bakugou,” he says, tilting his head. “Looking very nice tonight. Care to dance? Or maybe just keep me entertained?”

You laugh politely, brushing off the comment. “Thanks, but I’m good for now.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightens visibly. His amber eyes narrow, and his entire posture stiffens like a drawn bowstring. He doesn’t say anything, but everyone can feel the tension radiating from him.

Monoma doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he does and enjoys it too much. He sidles closer, resting a hand lightly on your arm.

“Don’t tell me the big, scary Katsuki Bakugou gets jealous?”

Your heart skips. You glance at Bakugou—he hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken, but his glare could melt steel. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

You clear your throat nervously. “Monoma… maybe give me some space?”

He smirks, ignoring you. “Oh, come on, don’t be shy. I’m just saying you look… impressive tonight.”

That’s it. That’s the spark. Bakugou doesn’t shout or blast anything, but the air around him crackles. You can almost feel his quirk itching under his skin. Swallowing hard, you step between them, your hand pressing lightly against Bakugou’s chest.

“Katsuki, stop.”

His eyes snap to yours. You see the struggle in them—the war between restraint and explosion. His fist unclenches slightly, though he doesn’t look away from Monoma.

“He was touching you,” he mutters, voice rough.

“He’s just being friendly,” you insist, though your voice is softer now.

Bakugou’s whole body tenses. “If that’s what you call friendly, you need your eyes checked,” he growls.

You feel the weight of his words—the truth he’s been biting back for so long. Your breath catches. “Katsuki…”

He exhales sharply, turns, and stalks toward the exit. Without thinking, you follow him. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving the two of you in the quiet hallway.

“You can’t just—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he hisses, jaw tight. His hand twitches, tension radiating from him. “Don’t just let anyone else touch you.”

You stare at him, heart pounding. “…Why?”

His nostrils flare. His voice drops to a trembling growl. “Because… you’re mine, dumbass.”

You blink. “What?”

He steps closer, forehead almost touching yours. “You. Are. Mine.”

You stare up at him, breathless. “Wait—you like me? Like… like-like me? No way grumpy Bakugou actually has a thing for me.”

“Oh my god, dumbass, just shut up and kiss me,” he snaps, grabbing you before you can react and pressing his lips hard against yours.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasp into the kiss, your fingers curling into his shirt as his mouth moves against yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been holding this in for years. When he finally pulls back for air, his forehead rests against yours, breath ragged. His amber eyes are wild, shining with fire and something softer beneath it.

“That answers your question, dumbass?” He mutters, voice low and raw.

You smile, lips brushing his. “I don’t know… think you might have to show me again.”

He huffs a laugh, rough and low. “You’re impossible.”

You grin. “You like me that way.”

He rolls his eyes, hand still resting on your waist. “Yeah. Unfortunately, now come on, let's get out of here.”

Once you get to his house, he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, to tease, or to even breathe. His mouth crashes back onto yours, a desperate, hungry claim that steals the air from your lungs. This kiss isn’t like the first one. It’s not a question or a clumsy confession. It’s a promise. A raw, unfiltered declaration of everything he’s been too stubborn to say.

His hands are everywhere at once, rough and possessive, sliding from your waist to your back, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard, defined planes of his chest and the frantic, pounding rhythm of his heart hammering against your own. The faint, familiar scent of nitroglycerin and clean sweat floods your senses, and it’s the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever smelled.

You melt into him, your arms winding around his neck, fingers tangling in the surprisingly soft spikes of his hair. He groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through your entire body, and nips at your lower lip. You gasp, and he seizes the opportunity, his tongue sliding against yours in a fierce, dominant dance. It’s all heat and demand and a barely contained urgency that makes your knees weak.

This is Bakugou. All of him. Unfiltered intensity.

He breaks the kiss, both of you panting, foreheads resting together. His amber eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, fixed on your swollen lips.

“My place,” he rasps, the words scraped raw from his throat. It’s not a suggestion.

You can only nod, your own voice lost to the tidal wave of want crashing inside you.

He doesn’t let go of you. His arm stays locked around your waist as he practically carries you down the hall, away from the muffled party sounds, his stride long and purposeful. He fumbles with his keys, his usually precise movements slightly clumsy, and shoves the door open, pulling you inside his apartment.

The door slams shut, the sound echoing in the stark, clean space. And then his mouth is on yours again, his back pressing you against the cool wood of the door. His hips pin yours, and you can feel the hard, insistent length of him straining against the fly of his jeans, pressed against your stomach. A shuddering moan escapes you.

“Loud,” he mutters against your lips, though he sounds almost proud.

One of his hands slides down your side, over your hip, and grips your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The new angle grinds him against your cunt, and you cry out at the sudden, shocking friction, even through the layers of your clothes.

“Katsuki…”

He buries his face in the curve of your neck, his breath hot and ragged on your skin. His teeth scrape lightly over your pulse point, and you arch into him, a silent plea for more. He answers with a low growl, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin there, a possessive brand that makes your head spin.

“Mine,” he breathes into your neck, the word a hot, damp vow.

His free hand comes up, his calloused fingers wrapping around your throat. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. A dominant, steady pressure that makes you feel utterly claimed, utterly his. Your breath hitches, and you look into his eyes. The question is there, unspoken but blazingly clear.

Yes, you think, hoping he can see it in your gaze. Yes, yes, yes.

A dark, satisfied smirk twists his lips. His thumb strokes the line of your jaw once, a shockingly tender counterpoint to the firm grip, and then his mouth finds yours again in a searing kiss. His fingers tighten, just a fraction. Just enough to make the world narrow to the point of contact, to the feel of his lips, to the hard heat of his body against yours. The slight constriction sends a dizzying, illicit thrill straight to your cunt, your body clenching with desperate need.

He finally releases your throat, both hands moving to the hem of your dress. He yanks it up and over your head in one impatient motion, tossing it aside without a glance. His eyes rake over you, drinking in the sight of you in your simple lace bra and panties. The intensity of his gaze is almost a physical touch.

“Fuck,” he exhales, the word reverent and rough.

He strips off his shirt, and then his hands are on your bare back, frantically working the clasp of your bra. It gives way, and he pulls it off, his palms immediately cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your already taut nipples. You gasp, the sensation electric.

He drops to his knees in front of you so suddenly it makes you jump. His hands hook into the sides of your panties, and he drags them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He helps you step out of them, and then you’re completely bare before him, pressed against his front door.

His gaze is predatory and worshipful. He leans forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. He looks up at you from his knees, and the raw hunger in his expression is almost enough to make you come right there.

“Gonna taste you,” he growls, and it’s a dark, delicious threat.

He pulls you down to the floor with him, onto the plush rug, not giving you a second to think. He lays you back, following you down, covering your body with his. He kisses a blazing trail down your stomach, over your hip bone, his stubble a rough, exquisite friction against your sensitive skin.

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds. You cry out, your back arching off the floor. He groans, the sound vibrating through you, and his hands slide under your ass, lifting you to his mouth, holding you open for him.

He eats you out with the same fierce, focused intensity he does everything else. There is no hesitation, no gentle exploration. He knows what he wants, and he takes it. His tongue flicks and circles your clit with ruthless precision before plunging deep inside you. The dual sensation is overwhelming. You’re writhing beneath him, your fingers clutching at his hair, not sure if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away from the sheer, unbearable pleasure of it.

“Katsuki… I’m… I can’t…”

He redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth, and you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, a wave of pure, blinding ecstasy that whites out your vision. You gasp his name, your body trembling uncontrollably under his relentless mouth.

He doesn’t stop, drawing out every last shuddering aftershock until you’re whimpering, oversensitive, and boneless beneath him. Only then does he release you, rising over you. He’s still fully dressed in his jeans, and the sight of him looming over you, his lips glistening with your arousal, is the most debauched thing you’ve ever seen.

He fumbles with his belt, his movements rushed. “Need to be inside you. Now.”

You reach for him, helping him with the button of his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down over his hips. He springs free, thick and hard and achingly ready. He positions himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against your sensitized flesh. He’s shaking with the effort of holding back.

He looks down at you, his chest heaving, his gaze searching yours one last time for any doubt. There is none. Only want.

“You’re sure?” He grins out, the two words costing him.

“Yes,” you pant, pulling him down for a desperate, messy kiss. “Please, Katsuki.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He pushes inside you in one long, slow, excruciatingly perfect stroke, stretching you, filling you completely. You both cry out into each other’s mouths, a shared gasp of relief and overwhelming sensation. He stays still for a moment, buried to the base, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting, adjusting to the feel of each other.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice wrecked. “So fucking tight.”

And then he moves. He sets a punishing, deep rhythm from the start, each thrust driving the air from your lungs. It’s everything you imagined it would be—primal, intense, consuming. His hips snap against yours with a force that borders on roughness, but every movement is calculated to drag against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

His hand finds its way back to your throat, not restraining your air, but holding you in place, anchoring you to the moment, to him. The combination of his relentless thrusts and his dominant grip sends you spiraling toward another climax far too quickly.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a rough whisper.

Your eyes, which had squeezed shut, flutter open. His gaze is locked on yours, blazing with a possessive fire.

“You see who you belong to?” he grunts, punctuating each word with a deep, rolling thrust that makes you moan.

“Y-You,” you stammer, the confession torn from you.

“Damn right.”

He shifts suddenly, hooking your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The new angle is deeper, so much deeper. You shout as he hits a place that makes your entire body convulse.

“Katsuki!”

He doesn’t let you come down. Not even for a second. His hips piston into you with a brutal, unrelenting rhythm, the deep, claiming strokes of the mating press leaving you utterly breathless, utterly impaled. The angle is so deep you can feel him in your throat with every thrust, a fullness that borders on pain but tips violently into mind-numbing pleasure.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his voice a raw, guttural thing scraped from the depths of his chest. His eyes are locked on where your bodies join, watching himself disappear into you, over and over. “Fuck. Look at you. Taking all of me.”

Your moans are ragged, punched out of you with every jarring impact. Your legs are pinned back, your hands scrambling for purchase on the rug beneath you, but there is no escape from this exquisite onslaught. You are completely at his mercy, and the realization sends another violent shudder through your already quaking body.

His hand finds your throat again, not to choke, but to hold. A steady, dominant pressure that anchors you to the moment, to him. His thumb strokes your jawline, a shockingly tender gesture that contrasts violently with the animalistic drive of his hips.

“You feel that?” he demands, his voice low and intense, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s me. All of me. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking tight around my cock. Made for this. Made for me.”

The praise, so raw and honest, undoes you more completely than any dirty talk ever could. It’s the vulnerability in his harsh tone, the awe layered beneath the possessiveness. A broken sob escapes you, and your inner muscles clench around him in a vise-like grip.

He growls, a feral, triumphant sound. “Yeah. That’s it. Gonna make you come again. Gonna feel you milk every fucking drop from me.”

He shifts his weight, leaning forward just enough to change the angle infinitesimally, and it’s all it takes. He hits a spot so deep, so sensitive, that your vision whites out. Your orgasm detonates, a silent, screaming wave of pleasure that seizes every muscle in your body, locking you in a rigid arc beneath him. You can’t even make a sound, your mouth open in a soundless cry.

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you through the convulsions, his own control fraying. His rhythm becomes erratic and frantic. His grip on your throat tightens, just for a moment, just enough to make the stars behind your eyes burst into supernovas.

“Fuck—gonna—!” he snarls, the words breaking apart.

With a final, deafening roar, he slams into you one last time, balls-deep, and pours himself into you. You feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release, each jet a claiming, a branding. He collapses forward, his forehead dropping to your sweat-slicked chest, his entire body shuddering through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of your ragged, synced breathing and the frantic hammering of your hearts. He stays buried inside you, his weight a comforting, heavy blanket.

Then, he moves.

With a low grunt, he pulls out, a slow, slick withdrawal that makes you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Before you can even process it, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach with a possessiveness that leaves no room for argument. He manhandles you up onto your knees, your ass in the air, your cheek pressed against the rug.

You’re still trembling, boneless and oversensitive, but a fresh, sharp thrill of anticipation shoots through you. You feel exposed, presented. His.

He kneels behind you, one hand splaying across the small of your back to keep you in place. The other fist is tight in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp. The sharp sting melts into a deep, submissive warmth.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with spent passion and renewed hunger. He guides himself back to your slick, swollen entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against you. “All messy and fucked out. My mess.”

He doesn’t wait. He sheathes himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust, and you cry out, the sound muffled by the rug. This angle is different—deeper in a more primal way, hitting places that make you see stars. He sets a ruthless pace immediately, his grip on your hair keeping your back arched perfectly for him.

You feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he pounds into you. The room fills with the lewd, wet sound of your joining, the sharp slap of his skin against yours. His free hand slides from your back to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh, surely leaving bruises. You hope they do.

“Wanted to see this,” he grunts, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Wanted to watch your back arch for me. To see this ass take my dick.”

He pulls your hair harder, forcing your spine into a deeper curve, and the shift in angle wrings a broken moan from your lips. You are completely at his mercy, a vessel for his pleasure, and the power of that surrender is the most potent aphrodisiac you’ve ever known. You can feel another orgasm building, coiling tight and low in your belly, fed by the raw, dirty talk and the overwhelming sensation of being used so perfectly.

His thrusts become more frantic, losing their rhythm. He’s close again. You can feel it in the tension thrumming through his body and hear it in the ragged edge of his groans.

“Gonna fill you up again and again still you can't think straight,” he promises, his voice a dark, delicious threat. “Make sure everyone fucking knows who you belong to.”

The possessive claim, the feeling of his body dominating yours, tips you over the edge. Your third orgasm crashes over you, a silent, shuddering wave that makes your entire body clench around him in rhythmic pulses. You collapse forward, but he holds you up by your hair, fucking you through it, drawing out every last second of your pleasure.

With a final, guttural shout, he slams into you one last time, his own orgasm triggered by your convulsing warmth. He holds himself deep, pulsing inside you, his grip on your hair finally relaxing to stroke your scalp as he rides out his climax.

He stays there for a moment, draped over your back, both of you panting, dripping with sweat, completely and utterly spent. The air is thick with the scent of sex and him.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out. You whimper at the loss, feeling impossibly empty. He doesn’t go far. He collapses beside you on the rug, pulling you half onto his chest. His heartbeat is a frantic drum against your ear.

You expect him to say something gruff, to break the tenderness of the moment. But he just holds you, one arm a heavy, warm weight across your back, his other hand gently stroking your tangled hair.

His voice, when it finally comes, is rough but quiet, stripped bare. “…You okay?”

A soft, breathless laugh escapes you as you nod, the world still hazy and spinning from the sheer force of your climax. You turn onto your side, stretching your arms out to him, a silent, wordless plea for the comfort of his weight, the solid reality of his skin against yours.

He looks at you, his amber eyes dark and intense, studying the languid, open invitation of your body. His gaze is a physical caress, and you see the exact moment the heat rekindles in his blood. Feeling his cum cool on your stomach, on your thighs, but the possessive gleam in his eye is anything but spent. Seeing you like this—fucked out, pliant, and utterly his—gets him hard again. The evidence of it is immediate, his cock already thickening, rising against his thigh with a renewed, stubborn intent.

He doesn’t speak. He never needs to. He just moves, his body covering yours in a slow, deliberate eclipse. He pulls you into a deep, consuming kiss. It’s not like the frantic, desperate kisses from before. This one is slower, a languid exploration of your mouth that tastes of sweat and salt and something uniquely, fundamentally him. His tongue tangles with yours, a lazy dominance that makes your toes curl against the rug.

His hands are everywhere, mapping your skin as if memorizing you. One palm slides down your side, over the curve of your hip, while the other cradles your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat, nuzzling into the sweat-damp skin there. He shifts, his powerful body moving between your legs, nudging them apart with his knees. You open for him willingly, a sigh of pure contentment escaping you as he settles his weight onto you.

This time, it’s different. The frantic, claiming pace is gone, replaced by a slow, grinding intensity that feels even more devastating. He guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your sensitized, swollen flesh. You gasp at the contact, still so exquisitely tender from before. He pushes in with an agonizingly slow roll of his hips, filling you inch by exquisite inch. The stretch is a familiar, welcome burn, and you clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his back.

“Katsuki…” You breathe the name, a prayer, a plea, a thank you.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against your ear.

Your eyes, which had fluttered shut, open to meet his. The raw emotion you see there steals the air from your lungs. The harsh lines of his face are softened in the dim light, his usual scowl replaced by a look of fierce, overwhelming focus. On you. Only ever on you.

He begins to move, a deep, steady rhythm that is no less powerful for its slowness. Each thrust is a deliberate, measured possession, a claim that goes deeper than skin, deeper than muscle, settling right into the marrow of your bones. He holds himself up on his forearms, his face hovering just above yours, his hot, ragged breaths mingling with your own. You can feel every ridge, every vein of him as he slides in and out, the friction building a low, simmering heat in your cunt all over again.

Tears you didn’t even realize were welling in your eyes spill over, tracing paths through the sweat on your temples. He sees them immediately. His brow furrows, not in anger, but in a questioning intensity. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows. He simply lowers his head, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is startlingly gentle before he shifts his attention to your cheeks. He kisses the tears away, his lips soft and insistent against your skin, his tongue catching the salty tracks.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers roughly into your skin, the command laced with a vulnerability that makes your heart clench. “I’ve got you.”

His hips never stop their slow, pistoling rhythm, each movement calculated to drag against that perfect, blissful spot inside you. You can feel another orgasm building, not as a violent detonation this time, but as a rising tide, warm and inexorable. You watch his face as you come undone, watch the way his eyes darken with awe, and the way his lips part on a silent gasp as he feels your internal muscles begin to flutter and tighten around him.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his own control starting to fray at the edges. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

His pace quickens, just a fraction, just enough to push you over that shimmering edge. Your climax washes through you like a warm wave, a deep, pulsing orgasm that makes you arch beneath him with a soft, broken cry. He follows you over instantly, his own orgasm tearing through him with a guttural groan. He buries his face in your neck, his entire body shuddering as he pours himself into you, his thrusts slowing to shallow, possessive grinds that milk every last shudder from both of you.

He collapses on top of you, his full weight a heavy, comforting blanket. For a long time, there is only the sound of your shared, slowing breaths and the frantic beating of his heart against your chest.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes himself up. His eyes are hooded, sated. He looks down at the mess cooling on your stomach, on your joined bodies, and his nose wrinkles almost imperceptibly. Without a word, he slides his arms under you—one beneath your knees, the other supporting your back—and lifts you easily against his chest. You are too boneless to do anything but cling to his neck, nuzzling into the hot skin of his throat as he carries you to the bathroom.

He sets you down gently on the closed lid of the toilet and turns on the shower, testing the water with his hand until it steams. Then his hands are on you again, but this time, they are all business, all gentle efficiency. He wets a soft cloth with warm water and wipes the evidence of your lovemaking from your stomach, your thighs, and between your legs. The care he takes is meticulous, almost reverent, his touch firm yet impossibly soft. He does the same for himself, quickly and without fanfare.

He helps you into the shower, following you under the spray. The hot water is a blissful relief on your aching muscles. He washes your hair, his strong fingers massaging your scalp, and soaps your body, his hands gliding over every curve as if reaffirming his claim. You return the favor, lathering the defined planes of his chest and his back, feeling the powerful muscles shift under your touch.

When you are both clean and the water begins to cool, he turns it off and wraps a large, fluffy towel around you, rubbing you dry with a brisk, no-nonsense efficiency that is so quintessentially him. He leads you to his bedroom, pulls back the dark covers, and tucks you into the cool sheets. He climbs in beside you, pulling you into his chest, your back against his front, his arm a heavy, secure band across your waist.

He nuzzles the damp hair at the nape of your neck and presses a final, soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Go to sleep,” he mutters, his voice already thick with exhaustion.

You smile into the darkness, surrounded by his scent, encased in his strength. Just as you are drifting off, his voice rumbles against your back, quiet and gruff.

He’s loud, arrogant, and cocky. Everything opposite of you. So what happens when you really discover there’s more to him than what meets the eye?

parings: K. Bakugo x Reader

warnings: 18+, angst, reader being in denial about being in loveeee, shy, introvert reader, Bakugo is a dick at first, two idiots falling in love. Toga is a haterrr 👎, Bakugo is 21 reader is 19, fluff, smut, canon time skip bakugo (mid-20s), hella misunderstandings between our babies, GOSHH there so in loveeee

SMUTTT: rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap ittt), creampie (he sucks at pulling at) fingering Oral (f receiving), semi-public sex, degrading kink, readers lwk a freakkk, janky hotel sex, masturbation, talking you through it, spit kink, there down bad for each otherrrr, freaky use of plan b. Big dick Bakugo 😌.

I had a vision so here we are hope my girlies enjoy!! Lots of dramatical errors sorry ☹️

Word count: 11.4k

art credits: couldn’t find

Part 2

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────

AU campus was buzzing with the usual chaos of students rushing between classes, students chatting, and skateboards rattling  against pavement,  a faint smell of coffee lingering from the campus cafe tucked between the library and the History building.

You walked through it all like a ghost, quietly weaving between the crowds, your headphones blocking out most of the noise, keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

A commotion near the main fountain drew your attention – a tall guy, blonde hair falling carefully over his face, hoodie half zipped, tattoos peeking out, arms flanking as he argued with a group of students.

“Are you kidding me? That’s wrong! Do it like this, you idiots, or just – nevermind!” His voice carried across the campus, loud enough to make heads turn.

You ducked your head and tried to ignore him, but something about the way he stomped, gestured, and demanded attention, made it impossible not to notice. Every eye seemed to glue to him, every body either laughing or scowling, some half-amused, half-annoyed.

Tsuyu would call it “commanding presence,” but honestly? You’d just call it obnoxious.

He kicked a stray backpack across the sidewalk and didn’t even apologize, glaring at the student like it was their fault for existing. Then he yanked a basketball out of some boy's hands and began dribbling furiously, barking instructions at anyone who didn’t listen. 

You sighed, adjusting the strap of your bag. People like him existed on campus: loud, arrogant, cocky, impossible, and self centered. The kind that made you want to scream internally and yet for some reason you couldn’t… look away.

You turned the corner, hoping to be swallowed into a big hole, while making your way to class. When your lecture was over you made your way to your apartment hoping to get some peace and quiet.  

 A few minutes later you were  curled up on the couch of your apartment, textbooks sprawled across the table, trying to focus on your lecture notes. Tsuyu was perched on the armrest, flipping through a sketch book. 

Uraraka bounced around with boundless energy, phone in hand. “C’mon, seriously, you have to come!” She begged practically bouncing on her tiptoes. “It’s going to be so fun! You can’t just sit here and bed-rot all weekend!” 

“I have stuff to do, thank you,” you said, glancing down at your phone. 

Tsuyu tilted her head, giving you a small, knowing smile. “You need to get out of the house Y/N, Besides, it's a basketball game. It might be fun.” 

“Fun?” You raised an eyebrow. “What’s so fun about watching men run around all sweaty and argue with each-other?” 

Uraraka grinned mischievously. “Oh, nothing! Just that the basket basketball captain is insane – so good, and so loud, and–” 

You frowned, resisting the urge to groan. “I’m not really into big crowds and sports.” 

“Doesn’t matter!” She interrupted, eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s entertaining, plus you gotta get outa your head!” 

You groaned dramatically, rubbing your temple. “Fine, I'll go. But only once because you won’t leave me alone.”  

Uraeaka squealed and grabbed your arm. “Yes! You won’t regret it! I promise!” 

The car hummed down the tree-lined streets of campus, the fall sun dipping low and painting everything in shades of pink and orange. You sat in the passenger seat, practically drowning with dread, while Tsuyu  lounged in the back, sketchbook in hand but glancing up every few seconds to watch her friends' antics.

“You have no idea,” Uraraka was saying for what felt like the hundredth time. “The captain insaneeee, last year he literally tackled a guy from the other team down on the floor and started going ham on him!” She chuckles for a second. “People still don’t know the reason, some said it was because he talked shit on his mom, but anywaysss he ended up getting suspended for a few games.” 

“God this guy sounds like he has some serious issues.” You muttered, gripping the edge of your seat. “He needs some professional help.” 

“Well maybe, but it makes it more fun!” Uraraka said firmly, turning to give you her full attention at a red light. 

You sighed, letting your gaze drift out the window. The campus was loud in this part of town. The buildings cast long shadows along the sidewalk. You should have been watching your favorite tv show right now. 

Honestly, You couldn’t stop wondering what they were so excited about. 

Before you knew it, Uraraka squealed. “We’re here! Parking’s good, come onnn!” 

You walked across the campus lot, the air crisp and smelling of beaches, and pretzels from a nearby snack stand. The gym loomed ahead, its windows reflecting the last light of the day. Loud cheers echoed from inside, making your pulse quicken slightly.

“Okay, remember,” Uraraka said as we reached the doors, “just.. Try not to blink. You might miss something!” 

You rolled my eyes. “Try not to blink at a basketball game?”

“Yes! Just watch!” 

You stepped inside. The gym smelled like wood, sweat, and cotton-candy. Students were streaming in from all directions, excited chatter bouncing off the walls. The crowd’s energy was almost tangible. 

You followed Uraraka and Tsuyu up to the bleachers, glancing around at the players warming up.

That’s when you saw him, or rather the guy that was yelling at everyone this morning. He naturally gained everyone's attention again. 

A tall figure dominated the court. Blonde hair sticking up from a headband being in place, a hoodie tied around his waist, muscles flexing: a shooter sleeve on one of his arms covering his sleeve tattoo – and the looks of it some scars?

He barked instructions at his teammates, while he slammed a ball down, yelling at someone for missing a pass, then he sprinted across the court like it belonged to him and him only.

Uraraka leaned closer, vibrating with excitement. “There! That's him! The legendary basketball player of UA.” 

You almost laughed out loud, a guy like him is a star basketball player? 

You tried to stay neutral, focusing on the game… but it was impossible. Every movement, every shout, every play demanded attention. He was loud, cocky, confident – everything you weren’t and yet somehow he was mesmerizing. 

Tsuyu leaned over voice soft. “Are you okay? You're shaking a little.”

You swallowed heart thumping faster than you thought was possible for just a basketball game. Something about him, something about the way he owned the court – made it impossible to look away. 

“Y-Yeah I’m good” 

The team ended up winning. 

—---------- 

You, Uraraka, and Tsuyu made it out of the stadium, throwing away your drinks and food stepping outside, where the sky casted a blue glow over the area, and the stars twinkled a little brighter than before. 

“Sooo, what did you think, it was amazing right!” Uraraka cheered 

You got into the car. “It was okay, better than I thought.”

“YES, that's an improvement!”

—---- 

You sighed, adjusting the pillow in your arms. “Okay so what do we wanna watch?” You guys were currently all stacked up together on your king bed.

Uraraka gasped, holding a pack of gumming bears in her hand. “We HAVE to watch the devil wears Prada, I made Deku watch with me the other night, it's so good!”

Tsuyu groaned. “We should watch something scary, me and Y/N are sick of your romance movies.” 

You dropped the remote dramatically. “Oh my goodness at this point let’s just spin for it.” 

Uraraka laughed. “Oh shush, you guys love me, and my antics.”

You guys ended up deciding on some scary movie called Bring her back, which you guys ended up having to watch some episodes of Solar Opposites after, because all of you were scared shitless. 

For the next few hours chaos returned, from you guys having a pillow fight, to you guys singing, to spilling the new cup of tea, and what characters from your guys favorite tv shows would date you guys because “You’re totally their type”. 

At one point Uraraka threw a pillow at your head. “Imangine miss Y/N finds her love bug this year! That's so cute. Seeing our little Y/N in love.” 

You chuckled. “You think someone who stays in the house 24/7 and doesn’t like to go out besides for school, and can’t talk to guys for her life, is going to have a boyfriend by the end of year? Hah you're funny!” 

Tsuyu gave a small smile. “You never know.” 

After cleaning up some mess around the room, the three of you started getting ready for bed. Uraraka grabbed her pillow like a treasure. “Goodnight Y/N – don’t let the bed bugs bite!” 

You smiled. “Goodnight raka, try not to dream about me.” 

Tsuyu slipped past you. “Goodnight, sleep well, try not to have nightmares.” 

“Goodnight suyu, sweet dreams, and I’ll try.” 

You smiled watching them disappear into their rooms, feeling the exhaustion from the day catch up to you. Curling under your comforter, surrounded by the coziness of your apartment. 

—-- 

You groaned as your alarm went off press snooze. “Y/NN babyyyy you have to get up, or you're going to be late for class!”

“I’m getting up.” You roll out of bed, doing your routine for the morning grabbing your bag, stepping out of the door, grabbing a piece of toast. “Bye guy’s I’ll see you later, love you!”  

“Byyyy babe we love youuuu!” 

The morning sun lit up the university, setting golden streaks along campus. Students hustling between classes, hung over from parties they shouldn’t have gone to. Energy drink in one hand, your phone in another. Doing your best to navigate through the crowds of people. 

That’s when a basketball comes flying your way, and someone chasing after it. “Fuck can you stay out of the way, you almost got hit.” He grunted 

And that's when you realize the man holding the ball was the one and only Katsuki Bakugo. “Me stay out of the way?!? You were the one not watching where that thing is going.” You scoff. 

Before he could respond you heard a cheerful voice. “Y/N over hereee.” 

You turned to see a familiar head of pink hair heading toward you, waving at you. “Mina!” you exclaimed, relief flooding your body.

Mina hooked her arms with yours. “Don’t worry about him, he is not always like this,” She turns to him. “Stop scaring new kids Bakugo!” 

You glanced back at him, and his attention was already somewhere else on his team again. Yelling at them. 

He turned back towards you. “Don’t get any ideas,” He muttered over his shoulder. “And stay out my way.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I wanna be in your way.” 

Mina laughed, and even though Bakugo didn’t smile, you caught the corner of his mouth twitching.

You turned towards Mina. “Sorry, but I gotta run so I make it to my lecture on time.”

“Oh okay, I’ll see you around let me know if you ever need anything!” She yelled while waving again. 

You walked into Professor Mic’s history class, choosing the seat in the middle by the window that gives you a view of the green leaves fading into red, and the rain falling down. 

“Goodmorning everyone! My name is Hizashi Yamada, but do NOT call me because it reminds me that I’m old! So Mic will do.” He sets his cup of coffee down. “I hope you guys picked this class because you thought it was easy. History is a fun, but heavy topic!”  

You guys spend the next few minutes talking about the syllabus, and rules in his class. That’s when the door opened and Bakugo walked in forty minutes later, with his headphones dangling from his neck.

“Oh how nice of you to finally join us Mr. Katsuki, now have a seat please.” Mic boomed while writing something on the board. 

He grumbled choosing the seat above you slumping when he finally sat down. “I was at basketball practice." 

“OKAY! Now that everyone is here, let's talk about your upcoming project due by the end of the month!"

He smiles while pulling up a document. “So you lovely folks are going to do a research paper about a major historical event. It needs to be between 5-7 pages now, any questions?”

Some girl in front of the class raised her hand. 

“Yes, you!” 

   “Uhm do we have to present this, and do we get to choose who we work with?” She says proudly. 

“AH great question, no” Groans projected across the room. “Okay, okay I know not being able to work with your friends bo ho! Anywho! I will be picking who you are working with.” 

He scribbles on a sticky note. “Speaking of, I think I already have my people picked!” 

While he’s going through people's names and handing out papers, you're messing around with your pencil drifting out. “ Okay last but least, Mr. Star athlete Katsuki and Y/N!”

You still what? This cannot be happening, the universe must hate you.

Bakugo, not happy, arms crossed, a scowl on his face.”This is a waste of time, are you seriously going to place me with her? She barely even talks for god’s sake. I already know all the important stuff. Just let me do it by myself.”

People break out in laughter and you freeze, dropping your pencil. God he really had a knack for people a dick to people. Professor Mic froze mid-sentence, eye flickering toward his scowl. “Katsuki that wasn’t very nice. Miss Y/N is very smart, so unless you want a zero, and want to be on the bench for the season, I suggest you suck it up.” 

“Anyway” Mic clapped his hands. “ Everyone, let's get started!”    

Bakugo let out a dramatic groan. “Seriously? I have basketball practice. I can't do this, and I hate working with idiots.”

Mic tilted his head, smiling brightly. “Katsuki, working with a team is a part of the grade, You might even learn something from Y/N.”

You tried not to react, but your gaze flickered to the project sheet. Interesting something you could actually use creativity for. 

“Ugh,” Bakugo mutters, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, but if she screws up, she’s dead.” 

“Hey” he said, not looking at you. “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. “Okay.” You said softly pulling your notebook closer.

As you brainstormed ideas, Bakugo immediately started dominating the conversation. “No, that’s dumb. Forget that. We need something impressive, big impact, got it?” 

You scribbled notes, quietly refining the plan and catching details he glossed over. His ego was massive, but his knowledge was solid – if he’d just listen sometimes. 

Uraraka is definitely going to tease you about being the “silent genius”. For now, You just focused, knowing you could magnate things behind the scenes while letting Bakugo shine in front.

The class ends with you and Bakugo agreeing to meet 2 times a week, to get this done. 

— 

The history building’s study lounge buzzed softly with conversation, the low hum of laptops and coffee machines filling the space. You sat at a table near the window, your notes spread in front of you, waiting for bakugo to show up. 

You’d arrived early – mostly because you knew bakugo would be late, because of basketball, and sure enough 45 minutes after the agreed time, the door swung open so hard it rattled the frame. 

“Move,” He barked at a student standing near the entrance, striding straight toward the table. His duffle bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, he dropped into the chair tattoo’d arms flexing, across from you, expression already set in annoyance. 

“You’re late,” You say simply, glancing up from your laptop. 

He raised an eyebrow. “So what? I’m really not in the fuck’n mood today.” 

Okay rude.

“Alright” he said, slapping his palms on the table, “we’re doing the Rise of Pro Police System. Big, Flashy, important, none of that boring crap.”

Soft spoken, you hesitated. “Um… shouldn’t we make sure it fits the rubric first?”

Bakugo scoffed. “ I read the damn rubric already. It’s fine.” 

You leaned forward slightly. “Actually.” You said calmly, “we should focus on how it shaped modern police society – why it worked, and what it cost. That’ll hit the analytical criteria.” 

He looked at you then. Really looked. His vermillion eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing. “You read all that?” 

You nodded. “I always read the assignment details.” 

For a moment something flickered in his gaze – half irritation, half intrigued. Then he grunted. “Fine, we'll do it your way. But if we’re doing analysis, I’m handling the opening presentation. I’m not letting anyone else mess it up.”

“That’s fine.” You said evenly. “I’ll organize the slides and write the outline. You can handle the intro and conclusion, I can do the middle sections too.” 

He stared at you like he wasn’t expecting you to agree so quickly. “Huh. You didn’t say anything snarky.” 

You gave a small shrug. “No point arguing with someone who’s already decided they’re right.” 

The meeting went on filled with casual chaos: Bakugo interrupting mid-sentence, you quietly fixing his phrasing in the notes. 

By the end of it, most of the students were cleared out of the area. You are still there trying to organize the slides.

Bakugo lingered too, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You really do all this quiet work crap on your own?” he asked, almost sounding curious. 

You glanced up. “Someone has to make sure it’s done right.” 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Hah. Maybe you’re not as boring as you look.” 

You blinked at him. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” 

He smirked. “Take it however you want, sunshine.” 

And with that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked off, leaving you with your notes, a pounding heart, and the faint realization that maybe, just maybe, Bakugo wasn’t entirely what he seemed. 

– 

The next morning started slower than usual. No alarms, no deadlines waiting. Just the quiet hum of the apartment, sunlight steaming through thin curtains, Erykah Badu flowing through the premises, plus the faint scent of whatever Tsuyu was making in the kitchen. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Uraraka called when you finally shuffled out of your room, hair all over the place. She was perched on the couch. Her hair in a messy bun, scrolling through her phone. “You missed breakfast round one.”

You groaned and dropped onto the couch beside her. “Please tell me there’s still orange juice left.”

“Tsyuy’s on her third cup,” Uraraka said with a grin. “But there’s some left. She made her signature pancakes too!” 

“Y/N” Tsuyu said from the counter, flipping another pancake. “You look like you need more sleep than food.” 

You yawned. “I do. I was up half the night trying to figure out our class schedule.”

Uraraka laughed, stretching her arms out, in her hello kitty pj’s. “We all survived our first few months of college. I think we deserve a reward. Like, a serious shopping trip.” 

“Shopping?” You raised an eyebrow. “We just moved in like not even 8 months ago.” 

“Exactly!” she said, already standing up. “We need new stuff for our apartment. Cute pillows, new mugs. Maybe a mirror that doesn’t make us look like zombies in the morning.” 

Tsuyu hummed. “I could use some more plants. They help the air quality plus Y/N your cat Penny loves them.” 

Uraraka clasped her hands happily. “And we’ll grab lunch somewhere nice after. My treat – well half my treat, because I’m still a broke college girlie!”

You couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. I’m in. But only if you guy promise not to come back with a thousand useless things.” 

“No promises!” Uraraka said, already heading toward her room to change. 

By the time you made it downtown, the sun was high, and the streets were buzzing with weekend energy. Students filled the sidewalks, arms full of bags, laughing and talking. 

Your first shop was a little home decor shop tucked between a bookstore and cafe. The moment you guys stepped in, Uraraka let out a happy squeal. 

“This place is so cute.” she said, holding up a ceramic mug shaped like a cat. “Omg look at this, we have to get it for Penny!” 

“You already have twenty five mugs that fill up our cabinet,” You said, picking up a coconut-scented candle. 

“Yeah, but not a cat mug.” 

Tsuyu was already examining a display of small hanging plants. “These would look nice in the kitchen window.” 

You wandered over to the bedding section, rubbing your hand over the soft fabrics. “We need to pick a color scheme before Uraraka buys the entire store.”

“Pink,” Uraraka said instantly.  

“Green” Tsuyu countered. 

You laughed. “Were going to end up with a watermelon-theemd apartment, aren’t we?” 

Uraraka gasped. “Wait, that’s actually cute.” 

You ended up spending an hour in that one store, laughing, bickering over colors, and trying not to break anything expensive. You bought a new notebook and a candle you didn’t need. Uraraka left with a pile of decorative pillows: Tsuyu carried a small bag full of plants.

Lunch was at a cafe patio nearby, the kind with mismatched chairs and ivy climbing taking over the brick walls. You ordered sandwiches and iced lattes, soaking up the warm afternoon. 

“So,” Uraraka said between bites, “Deku texted me this morning, He wants me to come see his dorm later.” 

Tsuyu smirked. “You two are practically married.” 

Uraraka flushed. “We are not! We just… love each other really well.”

“Sure” You teased, sipping your drink. “Next thing we know, you’ll be coming to us stressing that you're pregnant.”  

She gasped. “You’re mean!” 

You all laughed until Tsuyu’s voice chimed in, calm. “Fumikage’s been busy with basketball practice, but he promised to take me stargazing when he’s free.” 

“That’s so romantic.” Uraraka sighed. “You guys are the cutest.” 

Tsuyu tilted her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “He tries.” 

Then both of them turned toward you – smiling in that way that friends do when they’re up to something. 

“What?” You asked suspiciously.

“Y/N” Tsuyu added. “You should get one, so we're even.”

You choked on your drink. “What-no! I’m fine. I don’t need a boyfriend.” 

Uraraka laughed. “Oh, come on! You’ve gotta at least have a crush.” 

“I do not.” 

Tsuyu blinked slowly. “Lair.” 

“Okay, I admire people,” You said quickly “From afar.” 

Uraraka wiggled her eyebrows. “Mhm. Sure.”

By the time you got back to the apartment, your arms were full of bags and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. The sun was setting, casting a pink light through the windows as you unpacked everything, plants on the windowsill, new pillow on the couch, candles lined up neatly by the TV. 

“Okay,” Uraraka said, collapsing onto the couch. “This is officially the cutest apartment ever.” 

Tsuyu added. “And it smells nice.” 

You lit one of the candles – the coconut one from earlier – smiling as the scent filled the room. “I think we did pretty well.” 

“Best roommates ever,” Uraraka said, holding up her champagne glass for a toast. 

You and Tyusu clinked yours against hers. “To surviving college,” You said. 

“To surviving college.” They repeated.

A few days passed in a blur of lectures, meeting up with bakugo, and early alarms. Campus was finally settling down into its rhythm of crowded hallways, the faint buzz of conversation. Plus the constant shuffle of people pretending to not be already behind on assignments. You’d gotten used to the chaos, somehow. History lectures at Midnight, late-night study sessions in your living room with Uraraka and Tsuyu, and long walks between buildings with your earbuds in, pretending you weren’t exhausted already.

It was – comfortable. Ordinary, and ordinary was good. 

That morning, Tsuyu had class early, and Uraraka was already off to see Deku, leaving you with a quiet empty apartment and an open morning. You divided to catch up on notes somewhere peaceful. 

The cafe near campus – AU grounds, had quickly become your go to. It was small, tucked into a corner between a thrift shop and a bike rental stand, but it had good tea, cheap pastries, and just enough background noise to keep you out of your thoughts. 

When you walked, the familiar scent of espresso and cinnamon hit you. The bell adobe the door jingled softly. 

“Morning!” the barista chirped. “The usual?”

You smiled. “Please.”   

While you waited, you pulled out your laptop and notebook, claiming a small table near the window. Students came and went, some in groups, some alone. You didn’t notice when a group of guys entered – loud, laughing, all energy and confidence – until you heard his voice. 

That voice

Gravel and heart and everything that made your pulse jump against your will. 

“Oi, save me a seat, dumbass, I’m not carrying all this by myself.” Bakugo growled from the counter. 

Your pen froze mid-sentence. 

It took a second for your brain to catch up, but when it did, your stomach twisted. Of course he’d be here. This was his kind of place – busy, loud, full of people who already knew his name.

You risked a glance over your shoulder. 

There he was in the flesh, hair messy as ever, shoulders broad under a black AU hoodie, that same permanent scowl that somehow made people stare more. He was surrounded by his friends – Kirishima, Denki, and Sero – all of them laughing about something.  

He looked completely in his element. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were sitting alone, notebook open, pretending to look productive. 

Your tea arrived, and you ducked your head in thanks, hoping he didn’t see you.

“Bakugo, you seriously almost dropped that entire tray.” Deki’s voice carried across the cafe 

“Shut the hell up, I didn’t.” Bakugo snapped back. 

Kirishima laughed. “You did, though! You were this close, man.” 

Their laughter echoed – and hit something deep in you. You hadn’t realized until that moment that he could be like that.

You took a sip of your coffee, eyes glued to your notes, trying to tune them out. But then his voice dropped lower, sharper. 

“... the hell is she doing here?” 

Your stomach sank.

He’d seen you 

There was a pause, followed by Kirishima’s voice softer this time. “Man, maybe just leave it alone–” 

“I’m not stupid,” Bakugo muttered 

You didn’t look up, didn’t dare to. 

Instead, you focused on the screen, fingers trembling slighting against the keys. Your heart thudded too loud in your chest, and every nerve in you screamed to get up and leave. 

But before you could, someone called your name. 

“Hey! You’re in my English class, right?”

You looked up and saw Lida waving from a few tables over, all polite smiles and perfect posture. He'd been assigned as a project partner for your class, and he was already walking over. 

“Oh-yeah.” You said, trying to sound normal. “Hey, Lida” 

He smiled warmly. “I thought that was you, I was hoping we could go over the presentation outline before next week’s class,” 

“Yeah, sure. Sit down.” You said, grateful for the distraction.

He pulled up a chair, all calm and focused, while you tried desperately to not look past him, where you could feel Bakugo's eyes burning into you. 

You guys started talking about the project, something about ancient authors, but your words came out distracted, uneven, Lida didn’t even seem to notice, to busy explaining his bullet points. 

“... and if he divides it evenly, I can handle the visuals, and you could handle the written portion.” He said adjusting his glasses. “Does that sound fair?” 

“Yeah.” You said automatically, though your mind is somewhere else. 

Across the cafe, chairs scraped against the floor. Someone stood up. 

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. 

Bakugo's voice was low and sharp when he spoke again, “We’re leaving” 

Kirishima murmured something – you didn’t catch – but Bakugo didn’t respond. The door opened, the bell jingling again, the air in the cafe suddenly lighter.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

Lida glanced up. “Are you alright?” 

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

But even as you said it, your pulse hadn’t slowed.

It’s because you could feel him. Like the echo of thunder, longer after the storm had passed. 

– 

Time moved in strange ways after the cafe run - in.   

At first, it was awkward – really awkward. Every time you saw Bakugo on campus, you'd pretend not to when you could. He did the same. Sometimes you’d catch him in  the corner of your eye – at the gym, walking with his teammates, or grappling coffee from the same shop you swore you’d be avoiding. But then you started crossing paths way too often besides the project meet ups, to keep pretending.

It started with small things. A nod in the passing. A muttered. “Hey.” A conversation that lasted longer than a minute. 

And somehow, before you could really make sense of it, Bakugo Katsuki, which you used to describe as an earthquake, was always there.

He’d show up at the library under the excuse of "needing to finish things” even though you both knew hated quiet spaces. He’d hover near your table, pretending to be annoying when you saved him a seat. 

“Don’t make this a habit, nerd,” he’d mutter, sitting down anyway. 

But he’d stay. Always.

Over time, his edges started to look different. Still sharp, but not cutting. Still loud, but less defensive.  

Somewhere between late-night study sessions and early morning walks to class, you started talking about real things - the kind of things that made you forget how to breathe. 

One cold Friday evening, you both  were at the gym - him, still sweating from practice: you, pretending to stretch while watching him shoot free throws like it was nothing.

He caught you staring. Of course he did. 

“What?” he said, not even looking away from the hoop 

Hot. 

“Nothing.” I say quickly. “You’re just good.”

He smirked. “Obviously.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Cocky much?” 

“Confident.” he corrected, sinking another shot. The ball swished cleanly through the net. “There’s a difference.” 

You sat on the bleachers, hugging your knees. “Have you ever stopped being so competitive?”

 Bakugo dribbled the ball lazily, his voice low when he answered. “ Not really. It’s how I was raised. You win, or you’re nothing.” 

There was no arrogance in his tone this time. Just honesty - and something heavier underneath.

You tilted your head. “That sounds exhausting.” 

He stopped dribbling. Look at you. Really looked. And for a second, you saw something softer, something that made your chest ache. 

“Yeah,” he finally said. “It is.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just content. 

Over the next few weeks, the history project somehow pulled you closer, than you had expected. What started as awkward study sessions in the campus  history nook, turned into easy conversations and late nights spent laughing, over takeout and old shows. 

Bakugo surprised you with how focused he was. Always pushing you to do better, without even saying it. Somewhere between the research notes and the eating breaks, the tension between you shifted to something comfortable. 

By the time you turned in your final paper, summer had quietly faded – leaves cruising gold, air cooling, and your relationship feeling warmer than ever. 

– 

From then on, it was like something shifted. 

He’d walk you home after late study sessions, hands stuffed in his pockets, pretending it just because “the towns are full of creeps.” He’d leave snacks at your door before exams – swearing they were "leftovers” even though they were clearly from that fancy bakery downtown. 

He never admitted to any of it, but he didn’t have to. 

Sometimes you’d sit outside on the door steps after midnight, sharing a drink while talking about everything and nothing. 

He’d tell you about growing up – how he always felt like he had to prove himself, how he got his scars from going into a house fire, to pull a kid and his dog out, and how people always expected him to be perfect because he was Bakugo Katsuki. 

And you told him about the quiet pressure you put on yourself – how you never felt you stood out, how worried you were that’d you’d just fade into the background, and how you always had taken care of people, before they took care of you. 

He’d scoff every time. “You’re stupid, if you think you’re forgettable.” 

You laughed. “Wow, Thanks, I think?” 

“Don’t twist my words, idiot,” he muttered, glancing away. “I just mean.. You’re not like everyone else.” 

Your heart tripped over itself. Because for some reason it meant more than anything coming from him. 

– 

One night, after a long game, you found him sitting alone on the benches. Everyone else had gone home. 

“You okay?” You asked, stepping closer. 

He didn’t look up. “We won.” 

“I know. I was there.” 

He ran his tattooed hand through his hair frustrated. “Didn’t feel like it.” 

You sat beside him, knees, brushing. The light humming overhead. “You played great.”

He scoffed. “Could’ve done better.” 

“You always say that.” 

“Because it’s true.” 

You smiled faintly. “You don’t always have to be the best, you know?” 

His jaw tightened. “Yeah, I do.”   

For a moment, he looked like he was fighting with himself – the same battle he’d probably been fighting his whole life. Then his shoulders dropped just slightly, the tension melting away. 

“Maybe,” he muttered. “But when I’m with you… I don’t feel the pressure of proving anything.”

Your breath caught. “Bakugo-” 

He stood suddenly, grabbing his water bottle, and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.” 

And when he walked you home that night, his hand brushed against mine – once, accidentally, but neither of you pulled away. 

By the time Fall rolled around, the change was obvious. He still barked and cursed and rolled his eyes like a sport, but people had started to see what you saw months ago.

And sometimes, when no one else was around, he’d let it show. 

Like when you were stressing about finals and he showed at your door, scowling, holding takeout. 

“Eat.” he ordered. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

You smiled, taking the bag. “You’re sweet, you know that.?” 

He blinked, almost offended. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are, though.”

“Shut up,” He grumbled, but the tips of ears were turning red. 

– 

You’d mentioned it once – weeks ago – how you’d never been to a pumpkin patch. It had slipped out in passing, one of those half-rants, you always fell into when you studied together. 

“I don’t know, it just sounds nice,” You’d said, half laughing. “Like one of those cozy movie scenes. Cider, sweaters, picking out pumpkins… I’ve always wanted to go but never had anyone to go with.” 

He hadn’t said anything at the time. Just gave you one of his trademark scoffs and went back to his notes. 

So you thought he didn’t remember. 

Then one Friday afternoon, as you were tidying up things around your place, someone knocked on your door. 

When you opened it, Bakugo was there – hands shoved into his hoodie, pockets, looking like he was fighting the urge to bolt. 

“Uh.” You said, blinking. “Hey?” 

He thrust something at you. Two folded pieces of paper. 

“What’s this?”

“Tickets,” he muttered. 

You unfolded them slowly. Musutafu Valley Pumpkin Patch – Admission for Two. 

You’re heart stuttered. “Wait… you got these?” 

He grunted, not meeting your eyes. “You wouldn’t shut up about it that one time.” 

“ I– I wasn’t ranting.” You protested, smiling, before you could stop yourself.

He raised an eyebrow. “You talked for ten minutes straight about hayrides and caramel apples.” 

You bit back a laugh. “Okay, maybe I was ranting a little.” 

“Yeah, well..” He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re always stressing about exams and crap. Figured you could use a break.” 

You blinked at, warmth blooming somewhere deep in your chest. “You figured?” 

“Don’t make it weird,” he muttered. “You wanna go or not?” 

You grinned. “Of course I wanna go.” 

For the first time his expression softened, no scowl, no teasing, just this small, almost shy smile that disappeared as fast as it came. 

“Good,” he said. “It’s Saturday, I’ll pick you up at noon, be ready.”  

The next day was perfect when he picked you up. The sky was bright and cold when you opened the door. 

He stopped in his tracks. “God you look beautiful– I.” 

“Thank you, you look pretty good too.” 

When you arrived at the pumpkin patch you were giggling  pulling him. “Come on!, we have to get there before all the pumpkins are gone.” 

He huffed being pulled by you, while trying to lock his car. “Yes , I know slow down though.”

While wandering around he refused to let you carry anything and complained the whole time around the crowd. 

“This many people just to look at vegetables,” he muttered. 

“They’re pumpkins, Bakugo,” You said, laughing. 

He gave you a look, but there was no real bite behind it. 

You walked through the rows of pumpkins, orange stretching as far as the eye could see. You tried to find the perfect one – medium, round, slightly crooked – and when you did finally spot it, you made him carry it. 

“Tch, you picked the heaviest one here,” He complained but his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. 

You paused and turned around. “Wait Bakugo can we pretty please take this picture.” You faced your phone toward him showing the image where two people were shown holding pumpkins to cover their faces. 

He stilled. “Oi, fine but we're taking it on my phone, it has better quality.”

“Okay!” 

Later, you sat on a hay bale sipping warm cider. The sunlight caught in his hair, illuminating his tattoos placed over his scars. All while softening his edges.

“You really wanted this, huh?” he said quietly.

“Yeah” You admitted. “It's silly, I know.” 

He shook his head. “It’s not silly.” 

You looked at him. “Thanks for bringing me.” 

He shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal.”  

“It kinda was,” You said softly. 

His eyes flickered toward you – that same stubborn warmth hidden behind them. “Yeah, well… you’re welcome.”

And when You smiled at him, really smiled, he looked away quickly, ears burning red.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled. 

“Like what!?” 

“Like you’re about to say something cheesy.”

You laughed. “Maybe I was.” 

“Don’t” he warned, but there was laughter in his voice too. 

The drive back from the pumpkin patch was quiet in the easy, warm way that made your chest feel full. The kind of silence where we didn’t need to talk to feel comfortable. The sky had gone soft and golden, and the world outside the car window was painted in oranges and reds, like fall was saying goodbye. 

You were tired but happy. Genuinely happy. You’d spent the whole day picking pumpkins, drinking hot cider, and Bakugo even let you drag him through a corn maze. (He pretended to hate it, but you saw the smile when he thought you weren’t looking.)

But as soon as you guys hit the freeway back toward campus, the clouds rolled in. Thick, gray, and fast.

By the time the first fat raindrop hit the windshield, Bakugo cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Storms comin’ in quick” 

“Can we make it back?” You asked, watching lightning flash in the distance.

“Not a chance,” he muttered, pulling off at the next exit. "We're stayin’ somewhere till it clears.” 

The hotel was small – one of those roadside places with flickering lights and a lobby that smelled faintly of vanilla coffee, but it was warm, dry, and that was enough. 

“Only one room left,” the woman at the counter said with a polite smile. 

You glanced up at Bakugo. He didn’t even flinch. “We’ll take it.” 

You opened your mouth – we? –  but he'd already swiped his card. 

The room wasn’t bad. One big bed, a small couch, a shower that actually worked. Your heart wouldn’t stop racing – not from the situation, but from how calm he seemed about it. 

“I’ll shower first,” he said, gently placing your purse down onto the chair. 

“Right, yeah,” You said quickly. Sitting down on the bed staring at the floor like it was suddenly fascinating. 

As soon as the bathroom door closed and the sound of running water filled the air, your phone buzzed violently in your pocket. Then again. Then again.

Bad bitches 🎉

Uraraka 🩷 : 

ARE YOU WITH BAKUGO RIGHT NOW???? 

Tsuyu 🐸 : 

You disappeared all day. Are you okay, babe?

Your brows furrowed. You started typing a response – but before you could send anything, Uraraka & Tsuyu called. 

You picked up whispering, “Hello?”

“HELOOOO?!?? You better not be in his room right now!” Uraraka shrieked so loud you had to pull the phone away from your ear. “We saw it! We ALL saw it!” 

“.... Saw what?” 

“His instagram duh!” Tsyuy shouted in the background. 

You froze. “His What?” 

“Go Look!” Uraraka demanded

Hands trembling. You opened instagram. 

And there it was. 

Bakugo Katsuki – who hadn’t posted anything aside from one basketball shot since making his account years ago – had finally uploaded a photo. Just one. 

It was from earlier today. The two of you standing in a pumpkin field, sunlight spilling between the trees. You were laughing, holding a pumpkin, and he was beside you – eyes turned toward you instead of the camera. 

No caption. 

No tags, 

Just That. 

And it already had thousands of likes.

“Uraraka–” You started, but she cut you off. 

“Oh my GOD. Do you even understand what this means!? He doesn’t even POST! Like– ever! This is monumental! This is– this is boyfriend-level exposure!”

“Calm down!” You hissed glancing toward the bathroom door. “It’s just a picture!”

“Just a picture’ my ass,” Uraraka said. “He’s not even even soft-launching you, That is a full-on hard launch, girl!” 

You covered your face with your hands. “I hate you all.”

Tsuyu’s calm voice came through next. “I think it’s sweet, babe. Bakugo's not the type to show things he doesn’t care about.” 

You froze at that, heartbeat picking up again. “You think…?”

Before anyone could respond, the shower shut off. 

“Gotta go!” You whispered frantically.

“TAKE A SELFIE TO COMMEMORATE–” Uraraka's voice cut off as you hung up.

You quickly tossed your phone aside and tried to look normal.

The bathroom door opened, and Bakugo stepped out –  sweatpants clinging to his waist, v-line very much showing: his blonde happy trail complimenting his body. Hair damp, his usual scowl softer. 

“What’s with your face?” he asked, raising a brow. 

“Nothing!” You said too quickly. “Just, uh… friends being weird.”

He hummed, unimpressed, then sat down on the edge of his bed scrolling through his phone. 

You swallowed. “.. You posted something.” 

He looked up lazily. “Yeah, So?”

“I just– you don’t really post.” 

“Didn’t feel like it before.”

Your throat felt dry. “And now you do?” 

He shrugged. “Had somethin’ worth postin’.”

He said it so casually – like it was nothing. But to you, it was everything.

Your heart stuttered. “You really don’t care what people think?” 

His lips curved into that familiar, cocky half smile. “Let ‘em think what they want.” He leaned back, looking at you from the corner of his eye.  “They’d be right, anyway.” 

You blinked. “Right about what?” 

“That you look damn good with me.” 

– 

The heater hummed softly, filling the quiet with a low warmth. Bakugo stretched out on his side of the bed, one arm bent under his head,  eyes half-lidded. The lamp threw a gold pool of light across his face, catching the outline of his jaw and the faint curve of a smile that looked – almost peaceful.

You shifted under the blanket, trying to read the messages that lit up your phone, but your attention kept sliding back to him. 

“Stop fidgetin’,” he muttered without opening his eyes. 

“You're the one to talk” You shot back “You can’t stay still for five minutes.” 

That earned a quiet chuckle from him. He opened one eye, and for a second it felt like the whole room tilted toward him. 

“Guess you’ve been watchin’ me long enough to notice huh?” he said. 

You huffed, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re impossible.”

He rolled onto his side facing you, left arm placed under his head. “And you’re bad at lying.” 

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t comfortable this time. It was heavy – thick enough that you could feel it pressing against your ribs. 

He turned his head toward me. “Are you cold?” 

“I’m fine.”

“Lair,” he said again, quieter this time. Without waiting for an answer, he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you so you’re back, hits his chest, the movement dragging warm air between you. You could feel the heat radiating off him. 

The rain outside hit harder, while you kept wiggling around trying to find comfort. 

His grip tightens on your waist, “Stop fuckin’ movin’.”

“I-I’m sorry I can’t relax.” you whisper, straightening out your spine and locking your muscles in place. 

Your hips shift back with out noticing, ass jutting against something hard – oh

His fingers trail down your stomach. “Bakugo what are you–” 

His breath hits your ear whispering. “ Helping you relax, now shut up.”

Bakugo's always been a taker but when you’re laying here all pretty waiting for him, he wanted to give you as much as he possibly can.

He trails his hand from your waist untoward your throat, finger eventually hovering over your pulse. His lips gently locking into a spot on your neck. Your pulse quickening. 

“Let me take care of you baby,” he says, voice dripping with lust. He shifts, sliding his free hand down the front of shorts, continuing towards your lace panties.

His fingers slide through your wet folds softly, sliding the tip of his finger halfway inside – before retracting back to you clit making soft circles with his middle and ring finger. You whimper ecstasy taking over you. 

“Feel good, my sweet baby?” Bakugo asks, tightening his hold on your throat as he finally slides his fingers in, slowly fucking it in and out, he adds a second finger, after a moment, going deeper. Hissing at the feeling of your walls compressing around them. 

“F-f-fuckk,” you wine, surging your hips, to meet his hands. Your jaw falling open in a wash of pleasure, a low groan coming from your throat.

You’re trembling in his arms, wondering how long you’ve been missing out on a feeling like this. When his thumb goes back to your clit, you’re seeing stars, pleasure flooding through your veins, as he goes faster, curling his finger in just the right spot.

.“Oh, god,” You cry out, fingernails digging into his wrist. “Suki……. Oh my god, Suki……. Fuck.”

He chuckles in your ear. “That’s right” he says, mouth hovering against yours. Your pussy suffocating his fingers as your walls tighten around them. “Cum for me, baby, You’re so close, Fuck pretty cum on my fingers.”

The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. You're moaning as quietly as you can. Your legs are shaking and your whole body feels like it’s getting tight. You think you might die. 

“Bakugo PLEASE,” You say as stings cover your body. “Oh, god, oh god, I can’t… It feels so amazing Suki…….. Fuck.” 

“You can, baby, you got this,” He says “You can do it, Cum for me, I’m right here, I got you.”

Your body tightens. Getting closer to the edge “Bakugo…,” You breathe. “Oh god, Bakugo…” 

You're gonna cum, it’s happening, you try to tell him, but you can’t get the words out. 

“OH MY GOD, SUKI… FUCK!” you don’t have any words for the sound that came out of your mouth. 

“Oh fuck, yeah,” he growls, his fingers somehow increasing the pleasure. You want more. Need more. You try to grind harder against his thumb, but it’s not enough. Your fingers dig into his tatted wrist as you push his hand up and grind  the heel of his hand against your clit. “Fuck yeah, baby, There you go, ride it out, Jussst like that fuck. You’re beautiful.” 

“Oh god, Bakugo,” You cry, your body becoming weak. 

“I’m right here okay?” he says, “I’m right here baby.”

The scent of the hotel body wash wraps around me, as you curl into his body. You feel vulnerable, but for once, it doesn’t bother you. 

You take shallow breaths, blowing them through your lips. Your hands are shaking and your whole body feels tingly. Little whimpers escape your mouth as you rub your feet against the bed. 

“Shit,” You cry out as his finger slides back inside, thumbing brushing your clit. Your body jerks, with euphoria. It happens two times before, he stops his fingers,  keeping them inside and it’s strangely comforting. 

“Did I pass?” You ask. “I’m sure my presence left my body.” 

“No baby,” he says, tipping your chin to give you a sloppy kiss. “You didn’t pass, it was beautiful.

You swallow hard. “I want to do that with you inside me,” You breath out. 

“Fuck” he growls, shifting you off his fingers, “Not tonight baby–shit.” 

The next few moments pass too quietly, he looks down and finds you sound asleep passed out. 

Guess that did make you relax huh?

– 

The storm had passed by the time the sun rose. Light filtered through the thin hotel curtains, and the world outside was dripping and quiet. 

You woke first. For a few seconds you couldn’t place where you were, just the steady sound of someone breathing beside you and the smell of soap and chlorine. 

Then it hit you–Bakugo. 

The hotel. 

Last Night. 

His fingers.  

He was still asleep, turned toward you, one arm thrown carelessly over your waist. His hair was a mess, more than usual, and his mouth was parted slightly in a way that would have been funny if he didn’t have stains of your tinted lipgloss on them. 

You should have looked away. You didn’t

When he stirred, you snapped your eyes shut like you’d been caught doing something illegal. The bed dipped as he sat at the tattoos flexing with his back muscles. 

“Mornin’,” he said, voice rough and deep with sleep. 

“Morning.” 

The word came out too soft, too careful.

He stretched, yawned, ran a hand through his hair. “We should head out soon. Roads’ll be clear.” 

“Okay, I'll pack up.” 

You moved around the room like strangers again –polite, quiet, both pretending not to notice the thin string about to snap. He double checked the map, while you folded your jacket, and neither of you mentioned the fact of what happened last night.”

When you got into the car, the air outside was cold enough to see your breath. He held the door open for me, muttering something about the engine needing a minute to warm up, then climbed in.

The drive started in silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t hostile—just… to aware. 

Finally, you risked a glance at him. “You’re quiet.” 

He grunted. “Just thinkin’.” 

“About?” 

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw tight. “Stuff”    

“Bakugo, that’s not an answer.” 

He shot you a look, then sighed through his nose. “You have somethin’ you can’t thinkin’ about. Even when you know you shouldn’t?” 

By that he meant fucking you until you were co-hearant. 

The question hit you sideways. “Yeah,” you said slowly. “All the time.”

He nodded once, eyes back on the road. “Yeah. That.” 

For a while, you just listened to the music quietly playing in the background. He looked more tired than usual, like his armor was slipping just enough for you to see the person underneath – still sharp, still loud, but softer around the edges. 

Half way back to campus, his phone buzzed in the cup-holder. A flood of notifications lit up the screen-likes, comments, text messages.

He smirked without looking away from the road, hand drifting over to rest on your thigh. “Good.” 

His phone kept blowing up, He grunted snatching it up. “What the-”

You leaned just far enough to see the messages blowing up across the screen.

Inner-meated 🍤

Kirishima 🧱: BRO. YOU POSTED?!

Denki ⚡: HOLY-ARE YOU SOFT LAUNCHING SOMEONE RN?!?

Mina 🍡 :  OMG IT’S THE GIRL FROM YOUR PROJECT ISN’T IT

Sero 🌩 : All caps bro you cooked. 

Bakugo's ears went red. “Bunch of idiots.” 

He dropped his phone back into the cup holder like it burned. “Tch. Didn’t think they’d notice so fast.” 

“They noticed fast enough to blow up your phone,” You said smiling now. 

By the time you rolled into town, the clouds had lifted into a washed-out blue. The roads glistening. Neither of you said much after that: the silence wasn’t awkward anymore-just full. 

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, You unbuckled your seat belt. slowly , not really ready to open the door yet. 

“Thanks for driving,” You said. “And.. for the trip. It was fun.” 

He shrugged, pretending to focus on the steering wheel. “Yeah. It wasn't bad.”

You smiled. “That’s your version of I had a good time, huh?” 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t push it.” 

For a second you just watched him, the way the light caught the edge of his hair, the faint pink still dusting over his ears from earlier. Then, before you could overthink it, You leaned across the console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

He went completely still.  

“See you in class, Bakugo,” You murmured, pulling back before he could react. 

His hand twitched on the gear shift, eyes wide for the briefest second before he turned his head away. “Yeah. Sure. Later.” 

You climbed out, your pulse racing, and by the time you had reached the door, You heard the faint sounds of giggling and screaming from your apartment. 

Inside the car Bakugo sat there for a long moment before pulling out. He touched his cheek where your lips had been a moment ago. A small, helpless grin tugging at his mouth. 

–

He’d barely pulled out of the parking lot before his phone went off again-this time it was calls. 

“Kirishima,” he muttered, hitting accept through his bluetooth. 

“BRO,” came the immediate yell through the speakers. “Did you post a pumpkin patch soft launch?!” 

Bakugo scowled. “What the hell’s a soft launch?” 

“You didn’t tag her, but everyone knows!” Denki’s voice chimed in next–apparently they were all on call great. “She’es in your car! Your only  post is you and her! That’s like, like most boyfriendy thing you’ve ever done!” 

Mina cackled. “Look at you, Mister Explosion heart! I’m gonna cry!” 

“Delete it,” Sero teased. “Before people think you’ve gone all domestic.” 

Bakugo slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “I ain’t deletin’ shit.”

The went silent. Then Kirishima said, grinning so hard Bakugo could hear it in his voice, “So you like her.” 

Bakugo growled. “Shut up,” 

“You do!” Denki yelled. “Holy crap, Bakugo's got a crush! Everyone make the date”

“Keep talkin’ and I’ll punch you in the face, when I see you.” Bakugo snapped, hanging up the phone and throwing it in the passenger seat. 

The smile he had didn’t mean to have stayed anyway, tugging at his mouth while he drove. 

– 

By the time you made it upstairs, You’d barely kicked your shoes off before Uraraka's voice rang from the couch “You kissed him didn’t youuuu!!!”  

Your face flamed. “What--how did–you”

“You did way more than that,” She said excitedly, smiling. “You have that post- orgasm glow.” 

Tsuyu grinned, grabbing your arm, “I’m so happy for you! Finally, no more third-wheeling while Fumikage, Uraraka and Deku hang out!” 

“Wait, we’re not–” You started, but she was already bouncing. 

“You so are,” She said. “And if you deny it again, I'm calling him myself.”

Uraraka laughed loudly. “I think you like him more than you want to admit, ribbit.” 

You buried your face in your hands. You wish you could stop smiling. 

– 

The weekend after the pumpkin patch, came faster than you expected. Campus was buzzing with talk of a big Halloween party – everyone from first-years to seniors, sharing and showing off costumes. 

You hadn't planned on going.  After the night in the hotel, after how he touched you – how different you looked at him – you thought maybe space was safer.  

A text – then lit up your phone.

Suki ♥️ : You comin to that dumb halloween thing?

You: Maybe, why? 

Suki ❤️ : Cuz if you are, we’re going matching. 

At first you laughed, thinking he was joking. But then the next text makes you freeze. 

Suki ❤️ : well go as fin and the fire princess. Suits us.

You: okay yeah :) 

Your stomach flipped. That was oddly cute. He’d listened – really listened to you when you rambled about how the fire princess was misunderstood, wild to full of emotion for her own good, like you. He’d even teased you about it. 

Now, a week later, you're standing in front of your mirror, dress glittering with warm orange hues that highlight your skin tone. Your hair pinned up, loose pieces falling out like flames, your makeup soft but striking. You looked – good and felt good for once in your life. You looked like someone Bakugo would tease, grin at, stare a second too long at. 

When he showed, you nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked unfairly good in his Finn outfit – simple white shirt tugging his muscles, blue jorts hanging low around his hips, backpack slung over his shoulders – but the same smugness in his smirk is what really got you. 

“Told you it’d work,” he muttered, eyes trailing over you before he looked away. “You’re lucky I agreed to this,” you teased, voice wavering slightly. 

“You're lucky I asked.”

The drive to the party was easy – music low, windows cracked just enough for the cool air to brush against you. You felt something new forming between you. 

The party itself was chaotic. Lights flashing, people spilling into the backyard, low bass of the song playing, shaking the floorboards. You tried to stay close to him at first, but Bakugo was magnetic in the crowd. 

People – especially girls gravitated toward him. Laughing at things he barely said, fingers brushing over his arms, when they didn’t need to.

You tried not to care. I tried not to watch. But your chest ached anyway. 

You ended up near the drinking table, your friends chatting besides you while your gaze kept drifting across the room. One girl – short, gorgeous, dressed as a vampire – leaned in close to Bakugo, hand on his bicep squeezing, as she whispered something that made him grin. Not his usual smirk – something softer. 

Your breath caught. 

Uraraka noticed first. “You okay?” 

“Mhm totally fine.” 

“You sure? You look like you wanna throw hands.” 

Tsuyu tilted her head, croaking softly, “He’s not even looking at you, babe.” That stung more than you wanted to admit. 

“It’s fine,”  you said finally, voice tight. “I’m just gonna… go get some air.” 

You step outside, arms crossed, cool night air hitting your face, but it didn’t calm the storm inside you.  

Suki ❤️ : Where’d you go? 

Bakugo walks out, leaning against the wall of the house, staring at you with his hands in his pockets, “There you are,” he says “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, finally looking at you, frustration laced in his tone. 

You froze, words coming out before you could stop them. “What’s wrong with me? Really, Bakugo? You’re standing there laughing and flirting with–”

“Flirting?!” he barked, stepping closer, his eyes wide. “You think I’m flirting, They’re just persistent as hell, okay? Even if they were, it doesn't matter because we're not dating. Why do you always make everything into some big ordeal?” 

“Fuck you! I’m not making it a big deal!” you snapped back, your voice trembling with hurt and anger. “I just.. hate seeing seeing girls all over you, and you acting like it’s nothing,” 

Bakugo ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know what you want me to do!? I can't control who comes up to me, and I’m not gonna start yelling at them, just to make you feel better!” 

Your chest tightened, a mix of hurt and frustration flashing over your face. “Its not about controlling them! It’s about – you know what fuck you Bakugo, go ahead have random girls on you be my guest.” you say turning away stomping back into the house. 

Bakugo watched you go, jaw tight, but before he could call after you, his gaze landed on something that made his blood boil. One of the guys from the party had his hands all over you as you laughed at something harmless, while another was leaning a little too close.

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Oh fuck no–” he muttered under his breath, voice rough.

 “Bakugo?” the guy asked, noticing his presence, but he didn’t answer.

Without a word, he strode past everyone, grabbing your wrist firmly. You froze, surprised. “Bakugo–” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his grip unyielding. You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes displaying equal parts of anger and jealousy made you stop. He didn’t say another word, just dragging you down the hallway until he found an empty room at the back of the house. 

Once the door shuts and clicks behind you, Bakugo lets go of your hand, pushing your chest hard, making you fall harshly on the bed. “Why the hell are you letting guys just fucking touch you like that?” He snapped, voice low and dangerous. 

Speechless, you shook your head, still in his hold. Your frame trembles as you let out a broken cry. “I wasn’t –” 

“Shut up” he bluntly said, peeling his white shirt off his body, unbuckling his belt, letting his pants fall. He knelt onto the bed, leaning into you, as you held yourself up, He loomed over you, before roughly pressing his lips on yours, causing you to fall back. You whimpered as he wrapped a hand around your throat, tightening it as he kissed you.

You gasped when he took the opportunity to deepen his kiss. Your fastening pulse against his palms, flickering like a candle. 

He slid his tongue into your mouth past your lips, without any warning, letting it clash with yours, getting sloppier by the second. He licked your lips tasting every bit of coconut lip-gloss you had applied way before. 

While still kissing you, you felt his ring decorated fingers making their way up your thigh, pushing your orange dress up, prying it open to allow him access. Your eyes shut in pleasure when he began grinding against your cloth pussy. Gasping at how big he was. 

“I don’t like it when you're mad at me,” you say between kisses. 

“I don’t like it either,” he replied quickly, biting your bottom lip, pressing so hard, you felt like he was going to draw blood. You wanted him near you even if he was mad. It was foolish maybe, but you didn’t care. 

You didn’t realize until a moment later, where his hand rested against your neck, he could just apply pressure and crush your larynx. 

“Does it turn you on?” When I get that angry?” scoffing against your mouth. 

You weekly nodded – eyes hooded from how he was touching you. His hand reached down to push your dress up more, you reached down to help him pull it off. He grabbed your wrist. “Keep it on.” 

You didn’t argue, You lifted your hips up enough for the silk to bunch at your waist, for him to slide your orange lace panties off, the cool air hit your folds, making you shutter. 

You clamped your legs shut but Bakugo was quick to catch your thighs before, holding them open whilst shooting you a rude look. 

Your bottom lip jutted, when you didn’t move again. His hands touched the flesh of your thighs, his eyes fluttering towards your pussy.

With an expression unreadable, he stared at your pussy. Before you could even beg him to just fuck you, he leaned down a bit, spitting directly onto it. 

Your eyes closed, when he brought a hand toward your cunt, massaging his spit all over your pussy. His thumb rolled over your clit, causing you to wine in response. He just kept flicking your clit.

You reached out towards him, hoping to hold on to him in any shape or form. “You don’t get to touch me, baby,” his voice neutral. 

tears at the corners of your eyes as you whined. Bakugo removed his hand from your cunt, only to slap it. You jolted, letting out an abrupt and breathy gasp. As crazy as the man was, he did it again. 

He rubbed over your folds again, almost as if he was trying to calm you.

“oh shit,” you cried. “Yeah? That feels good baby?” he asks with a coy smile.

He was rubbing one hand down your waist. The other holding his dick, he slapped his dick against your clit. 

He followed, staring down at the cite “Shit, it’s gonna be all the way in your fuckin’ stomach.” 

The filth of his making your pussy clench around nothing. You both watched as he pushed his pink flushed tip in. Your lips move apart at the stretch. 

Shit, his dick was way thicker than his fingers.

“Shit,” he says under his breath.

You watched intently as he slowly sank further in. You clenching your fists trying to adjust to the size. Out of nowhere he snaps his hips forward, stealing life out of your body. 

 Whether you were ready or not. 

A moan came out of you, as he bottomed out, just to pull out, thrusting hardly back into you. You screamed, interlocking your legs around his back. 

He ripped the bottom of your thighs off of him, pushing them up to your chest, as he began moving fast, bullying his dick in and out of you. 

The pressure shifted, at the new angle, forcing gasped out of you. His once nice blonde hair — now a hot mess sticking to his forehead. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, wanting to be closer than you already were. He places hot kisses along your neck, sinking his teeth leaving marks. 

“Fuck you,” he says, pounding into like you were nothing. “Fuck you, for making me like you.” 

Your eyes widened, too blissed to understand, arching your back. “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

He grunted angry, pulling himself off of you, flipping you over on your stomach, pulling you by your neck, forcing you into a mean arch, “Fuckin’ Lair.” 

 He says while Poison floods through the house, soft but erotic sounds echoing around you.  

He settled behind you, “You wanted this, to be treated a like a fuckin’ slut — Just letting random men all up on you — your not sorry.” 

Bakugo slammed himself back into you, making you moan against the sheets, as he began pounding into you again, a hand sliding up to grip your hair. 

The other hand grabbing, and slapping your as, pulling apart the skin as he watches you swallow him. 

You were clenching the sheets, grappling them between your trembling fingers. As the sound of Bakugo’s skin slapping against yours echoed around the room. 

He pushed the side of your head into the sheets. You tried catching a glimpse of him behind you. Sweat dripping off his forehead, abs clenching. He bent over your body, licking up your spine.

Bakugo has not shown an ounce of intimacy like he did at the hotel, only pure hunger. 

“F-fuck’” he moans pumping his dick in and out, you gasped at the feeling of milky liquid pouring inside of you, dripping out of your folds, onto your thighs. 

Bakugo wasn’t sure how he made it this long with out fucking you. 

A shiver ran over your body, never having someone finish inside you — ever. You slumped on the bed. 

He finally relaxed into the bed, sinking into the sheets next to you, as he caught his breath. You wanted to cuddle into him. 

Your eyes shot open, as he pushed off the bed, running a hand through his hair before standing up. Your face twisting in hurt, as you pulled the blanket over your body facing away from him. 

You heard the sound of clothes ruffling. His feet moving against the floor, door opening, then closing. 

"Bakugou. Handle this." Aizawa's flat voice cut through the room's peaceful vibes.

Before anyone could react, the click-clack sound of heels barreled into the common area.

"Katsukiii!" You called dramatically the second your eyes found him. "You have to see the outfit I bought! I tried calling like a million times, but you didn't answer, and this couldn't wait! Look, it's pink!"

The class froze. Sero blinked slowly, "What the...?"

Mina whispered, covering her mouth. "Who is she?"

Kaminari's jaw dropped. "Gotta be his sister, right...?"

Bakugou blinked, his face deadpanning. "...You barged into my school to show me a shirt?"

"Well, why weren't you answering your phone!?" You demanded, hands on your hips.

"Was busy," Bakugou muttered without looking up.

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Important stuff."

You squinted at him. "Uh-huh. Important stuff like ignoring me?"

He sighed through his teeth. "You're doin' this on purpose."

"Maybe," you said innocently, flipping your hair. "Maybe if you answered your phone like a good boyfriend, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Katsu."

The class's heads turned in unison at the word boyfriend.

"Keep talkin' and I won't answer next time either."

Yeah, he was lying straight through his teeth.

You gasped, "You wouldn't!"

"Watch me."

"Unbelievable," you huffed, flopping onto the nearest stool. "My own boyfriend, the supposed hero—mind you, ghosting me!"

Bakugou's lips twitched. "You done?"

You just crossed your arms and looked the other way, making him suppress a smile on his face.

Aizawa let out a sigh that sounded like it held a lot of exhaustion... Now, would that have anything to do with the glittery bomb that just waltzed in?

Yes.

"She caused a scene at the gate when security tried to search her bag."

"He touched my bag, Katsuki! This is Italian!" You said like it was the most obvious reaction ever.

"So you want me to kill someone over your bag?" Bakugou sighed.

"Not kill, what are you—some assassin? Weirdo... No, I mean just... enforce justice!"

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm leaving before I age ten years."

Ignoring the class's stunned looks, Bakugou walked over to the stool you were sitting in, hands in his pockets in front of you. "What's that look for?" He asked gruffly.

"My stomach hurts," you murmured, crossing your arms.

"And what did you eat?"

"A latte, duh." You say, pouting.

Bakugou's face scowled immediately, "Christ... that's all you had today?"

You shrugged innocently, "Yeah, I was busy. The mall is very stressful, y'know!"

He muttered a curse under his breath, then stomped to the kitchen. "Sit your ass down."

You followed him, plopping yourself up onto the counter, swinging your legs as you immediately started yapping. "So first, the cafe got my order wrong, and then..."

He didn't look up, cracking eggs into the pan as you continued on. "Mhm."

"I found the cutest keychains at the store, but the line was seriously so long, and..."

"That's nice, baby."

"And I—ugh, my nails! One of them chipped, and-"

"Yeah?"

You smiled with a giggle, admiring his focus on his cooking. "You're such a good listener, Katsu. That's why I love you."

He grunted, sliding some sizzling food onto a plate as you continued on another rant about your day.

Kaminari and Mina slid over curiously. "So... um," Kaminari began, scratching his neck, "What do you even see in Bakugou?"

"What kinda fuck-ass question is that?" Bakugou scoffed as he placed the pan in the sink.

You tilted your head, smiling mischievously. "Hmm... Well, first of all, he's smoking hot."

Kaminari's eyes nearly popped out, and Mina's jaw dropped."W-what?!"

You giggled, "Relax! But honestly... he's the sweetest and most patient guy I've ever met."

Mina blinked. "Sweet? Patient... Him?"

"Yep, he's not perfect, I'll admit. But he's perfect for me."

Bakugou's ears heated into a pink hue as he slid the plate of food in front of you. "Shut up and eat."

⤷ contains: hot tub sex, outdoor sex, dry humping, (leg) riding, mutual (?) masturbation, handjob, (husband!katsuki), (f!reader)

After a long five years together, you were both finally married as of tonight.

It was after reception, everyone had left the both of you alone together in your new home and you were both sat across from eachother, relaxing in the hot tub and resting after the strain and stress of the wedding day. The hot water loosened the tightness in your muscles from all of the scrambling around, the socializing, the dancing… Just everything.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, only the sounds of soft music playing, the water bubbling, and the occasional car passing by, filling the air. Katsuki sighed contently and opened his eyes to peek at you.

His eyes roved over your wet, bathing suit-clad body. His wife’s body. He just couldn’t grasp the fact that you were finally his wife. Even though not much was truly different, the thought of you finally being his wife brought absolute joy to him—though he’d never admit that. Expressing his feelings in that way would “make him seem weak,” as he often said.

He stares at you for a bit longer before tapping your leg with his foot. He smirks at you as you open your eyes to look at him. “C’mere, wifey,” he murmurs gruffly, motioning you over with one hand and patting his leg with the other.

The tone of his voice already has your heart racing and your thighs rubbing together, and you push yourself up from your spot. As you slide over, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you to stand between his legs, his crimson eyes staring up at your face through his spiky bangs.

His hands sensually run along the sides of your torso for a few moments before he pats your ass and leans back against the wall of the tub. “Sit down, baby,” he muses out, patting his leg again. “I didn’t call you over here to just stand around.”

Of course, you couldn’t resist when your husband was telling you to do so, with his bathing suit squeezing his lower regions in all the right places, the dark lighting making his expression all the more intimidating, the slight light from the tub making his eyes glow, the water running down his chest…

Your thighs rubbed together again and your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you stepped forward and plopped yourself down onto his lap, straddling him without question.

“…Oh.” You didn’t miss the bulge that you now sat atop of, and you swallowed with anticipation. He chuckles and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. One of his hands moves down to your thigh and rubs the skin.

“Think you could help your husband out a bit, wifey?”

Of course you could.

Next thing you knew, your lips were on his, your tongue desperately chasing his as he pushes it into your mouth, your hands running through and ruffling up his hair.

He shifts you on his lap slightly before pulling away from the kiss for a quick breath. “This comfortable?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. Definitely.

He smirked again and pressed his lips back into yours, his hand moving to the back of your neck to prevent you from pulling away.

His lips moved hastily against yours, and you really needed some sort of stimulation. So you took the initiative to provide it for yourself, instead of waiting for him to notice and do something about it. You just couldn’t wait that long.

Your eyes peek open and flicker down, your thighs closing around one of his legs before you start rutting yourself against it. You let out a heavy breath against his lips at the feeling of your clit rubbing against your bathing suit and his leg.

His eyes immediately open and he grins wolfishly against your lips, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other hand moving to firmly hold your hip, guiding you to grind yourself against his leg.

Your lips sloppily moved and let out heavy pants against his, one of your hands gripping at his shoulder for support and the other tangling into his blond locks.

The heat from the hot tub and the slowness of the music made the night all the more intimate. There was a spark in the air that you both felt, and clearly you both were planning to act on it.

Seeing you get off using his leg was satisfying to Katsuki, but it just wasn’t enough. He needed to get himself off too.

The hand on your hip slid up to grab your hand off of his shoulder, bringing it down and guiding it to the waistband of his swimming trunks, silently requesting you to do something, anything.

Obviously you weren’t gonna deny your husband when he asked so nicely, so your hand slipped under the waistband of his trunks, your fingers gently pawing at his length.

He groans against your lips and you pull away from the kiss, your chest heaving against his. “Pull them off a bit, love,” you panted, your fingers teasingly brushing against his slightly-dripping tip.

Katsuki stared up at you with hooded eyes for a few moments before lifting up his hips and pulling his bathing suit down enough to free his hardened cock, and his grip on your waist tightens as your fingers wrap around his length.

His lips twitched up into a satisfied smile as your hand began pumping him, his eyes watching you beautifully work your hips to rub your pussy against his leg.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Your hand wasn’t enough.

His hand returns to your hip and pats it, indicating that he wanted you to sit up a bit. You obliged, and suddenly his hands are pulling the bottoms of your bathing suit off. “You can’t look delectable and expect to not get eaten up. You already know that’s not how that works, baby.”

Before you know it, your bottoms are tossed somewhere off to the side, and he guides you back down onto his leg, his thigh shifting between your legs to provide you with more direct stimulation. A soft whine escapes you, your hips jolting in pleasure.

He permitted you a few more ruts against his thigh before patting your ass. “Alright, wifey, enough of that. Get your ass up and ride this dick , ‘cause you’re killin’ me right now,” he groans, his face slightly scrunched in his usual irritation, but a soft hint of softness that was reserved for only you, and another hint of hunger—again, the intense gaze only for you.

“And make sure you do it like you fuckin’ mean it.”

His words made your pussy clench around nothing, and you swallowed in excitement. “..Okay.”

You sat up on his lap, moving to wrap your legs around his waist, and hold his length up to align it with the entrance of your pussy.

He grins up at you, hands on your waist and thumbs rubbing the skin as he leans back, letting you go at your own pace.

You grind your wet entrance against his tip, spreading your slick along it, before lowering yourself down, a shudder running through your body and your eyes fluttering shut as his cock begins to deliciously scrape against your walls and stretch you out. His eyes flutter but don’t shut, not wanting to miss a single second of this moment.

He groans quietly once your pussy fully engulfs him, and he pats your ass as if to rush you.

“Show me how much you need it, baby.”

You were gonna do that anyway.

You lifted yourself up and plopped yourself back down, your lips parted and a string of soft moans escaping you as your hips develop a relentless rhythm.

“A-ah, fuck.” He lets out breathless grunts and an occasional moan as your hips rut against his, his hands keeping a tight grip on your waist.

Your hips twitch at the sound of his moans and grunts, and began moving against his with even more conviction.

His head fell back and he moaned loudly, causing your pussy to clench around his dick. Your hand grabbed one of his and guided it downwards to your clit, and he hazily smirked up at you.

His calloused fingers erratically rub against your clit, and you moaned loudly and clenched around his cock again. It felt so good, you were starting to understand what people meant by ‘sex is so much better when you’re married to the person.’ It appeared Katsuki was understanding as well.

You felt that warm feeling in your stomach build up quickly, and Katsuki could tell by the way your legs were twitching, the way the movement of your hips was no longer consistent, the desperation of your moans… And he embarrassedly felt the same way.

He couldn’t take it anymore. You riding him was amazing, but he needed to do something to chase that high of his orgasm.

His hand leaves your clit, taking your hand and bringing it down to your clit. He groans in satisfactory at the sight of you touching yourself while riding him.

His hand returns to your waist and he slightly shifts beneath you, his grip on your waist tight and holding you in place as he begins to meet his hips up with yours, fucking up into you with desperation.

You let out a mix between a moan and a gasp at the feeling, your vision going blurry for a few moments and your legs going weak. Your mouth hung open and your fingers twitched against your clit, the movements sloppy as Katsuki began to fuck you dumb, like he was trying to rearrange your guts.

A string of breathless whines and whimpers leave your lips, the sound of both of your moans and grunts, the sound of his skin hitting yours, and the sound of the water sloshing around you both, mixing with the soft music in the air.

Your pussy clenched around Katsuki and you managed to whimper out “I-I’m about to cum,” through the cloudiness of your head.

He groans and nods. “Me too, baby.”

Your back arches as his hips move more erratically against yours, your hand rubbing at your clit with more desperation and your nails from your other hand digging into his shoulder.

Katsuki leaned forward to press various kisses along your chest area, neck, and jawline, his hips ramming up into you with a particularly hard force. Your eyes roll back and your body jolts, your orgasm rippling through your body and onto his cock.

He groans loudly as you clench around his cock and finish, and his orgasm follows almost immediately after that.

He lifted you off of him and pumped himself, a slight whine escaping him as his load spurts onto your lower abdomen.

It starts, as it always does, with something stupid.

Something so small it shouldn’t even matter, except it does. Because with Bakugo, everything matters.

“You left the damn door unlocked again,” he grumbles, tossing his hero gloves on the couch.

You glance up from your phone. “I was literally gone for five minutes, Katsuki.”

“Five minutes is all it takes for some dumbass villain to sneak in and wreck the place!”

You raise a brow. “What, you think some villain’s gonna waltz in here and steal your protein powder?”

He glares. “It’s imported, you brat.”

You snort. “Right, my bad. We must protect the sacred whey at all costs.”

“Don’t start with me—”

“I’m not starting anything!”

“Yeah, well, you sure as hell never finish anything, either!”

That does it. You cross your arms, glaring right back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gestures wildly, like the words are burning a hole in his hands. “You leave stuff everywhere! Your sketchbook’s on the table, your hair tie’s on the counter, your—”

“My presence is apparently ruining your perfectly tidy life, huh?” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “You said it, not me.”

“Wow. Romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be romantic, dumbass, you always—” he starts, jaw tight,

But you don’t let him finish

And that’s when you kiss him.

Mid-sentence. Mid-grumble. Mid-lecture something about basic security awareness.

You grab his collar and pull him down, lips colliding with his mid-complaint scowl. He makes a startled noise, somewhere between a grunt and a gasp, and goes absolutely still.

When you pull back, he’s just staring at you like you’ve committed a crime. His face is red to the ears.

“The hell was that?!” he barks, voice cracking at the end.

You tilt your head. “A tactical interruption.”

He blinks. “A what—?”

“You were talking too much,” you say sweetly, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt.

His jaw drops. “I wasn’t talkin’ too much, you—!”

You kiss him again.

And this time, he actually makes a sound, a muffled grunt against your lips, something halfway between surprise and surrender. His hands hover uncertainly before finally landing on your waist, like his body made the decision before his brain did. When you pull away, you’re both a little breathless.

He glares. Or tries to. “You—you can’t just kiss me when you’re losin’ an argument!”

“So you admit you were winning?” you tease.

“I—THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

“Sounds like it is,” you hum.

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me,” you sing-song.

“Yeah, yeah.” His voice softens despite himself. He mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like too much, but you don’t call him out on it.

You just grin, leaning forward until your forehead bumps his. “You gonna keep yelling, or should I shut you up again?”

His smirk returns, slow and dangerous. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You rise on your toes. “Try me.”

And before he can reply, you kiss him again —longer this time, his laughter breaking through between your lips. The argument dissolves, like it always does, into something softer, warmer, something that sounds a lot like home.

(Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader)

🖤💖24/31 for Kinktober💖🖤

Word Count: 440

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI - 18+, anal sex, anal fingering (f!receiving), praise

Case Notes: I fully and 100% blame Blmartin on AO3, and their fic “The Next Big Star” for putting me into the ‘Katsuki Bakugo is an ass man’ belief.

“God, I love this pretty ass.” Katsuki’s voice is rough as his palm smacks against the round globe of fat, making a moan fall from your lips, “gonna let me fuck it, hah?”

You nod, in no position to argue, laid out on your shared bed, your ass in the air for him, his hand smoothing down your spine, your cheek against his pillow, pretty eyes gazing back at him.

He grins, that bright, wide one he does when he feels like he’s won before both his hands pull the fat of your ass apart, spitting a big glob onto your puckered whole before he starts to circle it with his middle finger, “that’s it, relax and let me in, babe.”

He gently prods at your tight hole until his finger is sinking in gently pumping it slowly, until he’s three knuckles it, and moving easily. “That’s my girl.”

You moan at the praise, as he pulls his finger out, lubing up his fingers to sink two in this time, slowly fucking you open, preparing your puckered hole to take his cock.

And then he’s got three in there, groaning at the way your asshole stretches around his thick fingers, at how pretty your moans sound before he pulls his fingers out fully, positioning himself behind you.

His cock is thick and heavy, already leaking from the excitement as he circles it around your stretched out hole, “Y’gonna take me so good, ain’t ya?” He asks, giving your ass another smack, waiting for your breath ‘yes’ before he pushes his length inside.

“Shit, babe. So fuckin’ tight. You’re sucking me in.” Katsuki groans through gritted teeth, trying to be easy as he sinks into your ass, the right hole wrapping around him like you were made just for him.

“Fuck baby, m’so full.” You moan when he finally bottoms out and he grunts. In response, taking a moment to let you adjust.

“You ready?” He asks, voice gravely and needy, like he’s tired of holding back.

“I’m good, go on.” You breathe out, trying to relax, focusing on the way his warm hand runs over your lower back before pushing you into a deeper arch.

He pulls back and thrusts into you. Hard. It takes your breath as he sets a quick pace, his hips pistoning into your ass, bullying his cock into your ass with every stroke, his hand sliding around to between your thighs to rub tight circles around your clit, “that’s it, that’s m’girl, take it.”

Katsuki commands and a room, and it’s no different in the bedroom as he has you falling apart on him.

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———————————— ୨ৎ ———————————

It had been a dificult week. Failing tests, losing friends, and the worst of all—losing your boyfriend.

Though your chest ached, deep down you weren’t surprised, you were used to this feeling. This wasn’t the first time he had left you like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was impulsive, selfish and more often than not, cruel. And still… you loved him so deeply that you’d let yourself break if it meant staying by his side, and he knew that. He knew you would always come back to him, no matter how badly he hurt you.

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependence. And not only did he know it—your best friend, Katsuki Bakugo, knew it too.

He had been there for as long as you could remember. Since childhood, your mothers introduced you and fate decided to tie your lives together. He had seen every step of your doomed relationship, though he never liked it, he hated the way he treated you, the lies and the games—but most of all, he hated seeing you stay.

Because for him, you were more than perfect, you were everything.

And he never told you. Never confessed that the fire burning inside of him had always been yours. Since he could remember, that feeling had been there, like he was born to love you. But he never felt good enough. Fear had always kept him silent, fearing that he’d lose you if he said the words. So he swallowed it down, let himself bleed in silence, telling himself it was better this way.

But each time your boyfriend disappointed you, Katsuki wanted nothing more than to hold you, to show you that someone could love you right. That he could.

He just never thought he’d break. Until now.

“I don’t get it, Katsuki, I just don’t…” you muttered, walking beside him, tears streaking down your cheeks as the city lights blurred. “Why does he keep doing this? Am I not worth the risk? Am I not worth fighting for?”

“Tch.” His tone was sharp, angry, but the anger wasn’t at you. It was at him. “Don’t be stupid. He’s just a damn idiot, I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

“He’s not an idiot!”

“Whatever.” His jaw tightened, eyes fixed forward, fists shoved deep in his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a pause, guilt pressing into your ribs. “I know you don’t like him, but… I just can’t see him like that…”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Katsuki kept walking, fists shoved in his pockets, jaw tight. He couldn’t even look at you, and it made your chest ache. You hated when he was angry with you.

So you tried to break the tension, tried to laugh through your tears. “I don’t think you’d get it anyway. You’ve never been in love. You’re made of stone.”

That did it.

Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His shoulders trembled, his breath caught. You turned to him, startled, and froze. His crimson eyes weren’t just angry—they were shaking.

“Is that what you think, huh?” His voice cracked, rougher than usual.

“Katsuki—”

“No. Don’t ‘Katsuki’ me.” His voice rose, raw and sharp like broken glass. “God, you’re so fucking stupid sometimes. Haven’t you noticed? Haven’t you ever noticed?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confusion twisting in your chest.

The first droplets of rain began to fall. Perfect timing. As if the world itself wanted to break with him.

“Fuck,” he growled, dragging a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt. “Do you have any idea what it does to me, watching you with him? Watching you let him treat you like shit, when all I can think about is how much better I could love you? How much more I could give you?” His voice broke, his chest heaving as years of silence shattered.

Your lips parted, your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ve spent years watching you settle for scraps,” he continued, his chest heaving. “While I’ve been thinking about how I’d treat you better, like you fucking matter. And you stand there and tell me I don’t know what it feels like to love someone?”

“Katsuki…”

“Don’t.” His hand shot up, halting you. His eyes burned into yours, the storm reflecting in them. “Don’t say my name like that. Not now. Not when I’ve given up everything—friends, training, time—just to make sure you’re okay. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. Everyone else has. Everyone but you.”

The weight of his words slammed into you, leaving you breathless.

“I love you,” he said, voice raw and shaking now, desperation bleeding into every word. “Damn it, I’ve always loved you. Since we were kids. And if you’re telling me you never saw it—then you’re lying. Because it’s been there, right in front of your face.”

You stood frozen, the rain soaking through your clothes, heart racing so hard it hurt.

“You can’t pretend this is just friendship,” he pushed on, stepping closer, desperation spilling from every movement. “Because I don’t treat anyone else like I treat you. I never have. I never will.”

“Katsuki, I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your own tears blending with the rain. You were trembling, overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

“Of course you don’t,” he scoffed bitterly, voice shaking. “You’re too busy chasing some asshole who doesn’t even respect you. Too blind to see what’s been right in front of you this whole damn time.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” His crimson eyes burned into yours, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “Every time I think maybe—just maybe—you might see me, he snaps his fingers and you go running back. And I’m the one left picking up the pieces. Every. Single. Time.”

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I’m not asking you to love me,” Katsuki said, quieter now, his voice raw and trembling. “But don’t stand there and tell me there’s nothing between us. Don’t tell me I’ve been imagining it all. Because I know you feel it too. I can fucking see it.”

You couldn’t breathe. His words ripped you apart, exposed every wound you had ignored. You stared at him, the desperation on his face, the storm pouring around you both. Your throat tightened, your heart shattering under the weight of his words.

And then, finally, you broke.

“You’re right,” you whispered, your voice small but steady, trembling as you met his eyes. “It was never your imagination. There’s always been something. Something I’ve been too scared to admit. Too scared to face. Maybe because of fear, or maybe because… I didn’t want to ruin us.”

His breath caught, his jaw slackening slightly as your words hit him.

“But tell me,” you whispered, stepping closer despite your trembling hands. “If I let go of him and choose you… what if it ends the same? What if I lose you too? What if we ruin everything we’ve built?”

His jaw clenched, his whole body trembling as he fought to keep himself together. The rain poured harder, thunder rolling in the distance.

But when he spoke, his voice was low, steady, and devastating.

“You won’t lose me. Not now. Not ever. Because I’ve already been yours this whole damn time.”

You gasped softly, and in that moment, the storm didn’t matter. The years of silence didn’t matter. The world around you didn’t exist. It was just him.

Your best friend. The boy who had always been there. The man who had always loved you.

And finally, you closed the distance.

His lips crashed against yours in the rain, fiery and desperate, tasting of salt and thunder. His hands gripped your face like he was afraid you’d slip away, but his kiss was everything he had held back for years—every word unsaid, every night spent wanting, every moment he chose you over himself.

You melted into him, tears spilling, arms wrapping around his soaked shirt as you kissed him back with everything you had left.