#Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[lowkeyremi]

BLOCKED ! (part 4) (smau series)

Summary: As a student of class 1-B, the first time you really saw Bakugo Katsuki was at the sports festival. That’s when you decided you would pursue him. It’s not easy though, because he absolutely hates you. Content: crack smau, just teens being teens, angst, miscommunication between bkg and reader (will be explained in the next part!) this is kind of short, sorry guys!! Masterlist

Bakugo’s messages with his friends:

You + Bakugo talking to izuku (separate):

Taglist:

@katsukota @nemisimp @herefor-tojis-tits

@haechansbbg @rcveriees @hearts4heidi

@kodzubaby @kiritokunuwu @xerophyides

@wisecatmentality @1ndee @call-me-prodigy

@harryzcherry @defnotriri @kxllanxtdoor

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[nemisuki]

Intertwined

Dating AU | He wasn’t aware such a small insecurity could affect your relationship that much. Lucky for him, she seems to know how to ease his worries away. 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, no manga spoilers, pure fluff, no smut, no angst, reverse comfort lowkey, aged up to third years, they're both whipped, two idiots in love, wholesome short oneshot, 821 word count

His brows furrow with frustration at the glistening skin - small droplets of sweat already beginning to form at the surface of his palms.

Bakugos mood immediately getting ruined at the sight of it.

He takes pride in many things in his life, one of them being his quirk, the ability to create explosions from mere sweat is truly an odd but valuable power.

One that needed proper training to get used too and eventually perfected. But there was always one problem that remained and perhaps is unavoidable.

Excessive sweating.

At first it was manageable, he simply wiped it away on his pants, not thinking much of it.

Though as time went on, it grew out of control. Perhaps it was a side effect of puberty now that their seniors in highschool, who knows?

What he did know was that it was beyond irritating.

Maybe this was his karma for being too cocky in the past. He assumed his quirk had no downsides he couldn't manage, but the gods just had to humble him.

For an over hygienic guy - this was probably his worst nightmare come true.

Especially now that he has a girlfriend.

"Cmon Katsuki, we gotta return to the dorms before curfew!"

She quickly grabs a hold of his hand, cheerful expression on her face, a bright smile that could battle the sun.

Oblivious to the swirling thoughts in his head.

Dating was a concept he never thought he would experience - til he met Y/N. As a new couple he didn't expect this personal issue to have such an effect on his relationship.

But here we are.

He flinches at her touch, swiftly extracting his hand from hers, simply praying she didn't notice his clammy hands.

Her face instantly falls, switching to one of worry and hesitation, "Katsuki? Hey what's wrong?"

The blonde didn't know what else to do but stay silent, avoiding eye contact with her as he tried to think of something to say, subtly wiping his hands on his school uniform.

Feeling embarrassed to tell her about this 'problem' he's been recently dealing with.

"It's nothing."

Noticing the clear shift in his demeanor, she tries connecting the dots and gives him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable with holding hands! I should've asked first since you hate PDA." 

His head snaps back at her, realizing the careless mistake he just made, "No no that's not what I- uh"

He sighs as irritation begins bubbling inside him, directed at himself for making her worried over something so trivial.

"It's not that dummy. My hands are..." he looks away once again. Feeling self conscious all of a sudden - opening up has never been an easy thing for him.

She notices the tip of his ears burning with a pink hue, rare shyness creeping in his voice, "My hands get sweaty a lot because of my quirk."

A moment of silence passes between them.

"It's been out of control lately so-"

His words waver as he feels her pinky finger slowly wrap around his own. Her eyes soften as she stares up at him, a look of understanding on her face.

"Ah I see. Then this is fine right?" she smiles, tilting her head to get a better view of his face.

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

"...Yeah sure, whatever" he clears his throat, avoiding her gaze completely.

She giggles at his cute demeanor, not used to seeing him like this, just thinking how soft this blonde truly is under all the walls he put over his heart.

He doesn't say much as they continue their walk back towards campus. His heart doing somersaults in his chest at the contact.

"It doesn't bother me by the way" she mumbles, smiling up at him again, "I just want to be next to you."

"You're such a sap."

He pinches her puffy cheek with his other hand - making her whine in response, trying to distract the effect her words have on him.

A small laugh escapes him as he mushes her face to form pouty duck lips, rolling his eyes at her unintelligible words of plead.

"So fucking dramatic." 

Whether to shush her up or satisfy his own desires, he quickly leans down and presses a small peck to her puckered lips. Letting her face go a second after, making the poor girl flustered and silent with shock.

"What was that for?" she says, fidgeting with her sleeves like a love struck fool.

"Tch, can I not kiss my own girlfriend?"

He spins around to walk away - making her rush to catch up, a knowing look on her face.

"I know but in public? Katsuki you sly dog~" she cooes, trying to rile him up.

"Fuck off."

"Love you too!"

At her continuous laughter and teasing, all he could do was put a fake frown on his face, but only from her eyes - she could see the small smile underneath it all.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im really sorry for not posting much u guys! i kinda lost motivation these past couple of weeks but im finally feeling better. i actually relate to this so much bc i sadly suffer from hyperhidrosis. If you don't know what hyperhidrosis is, it's "a medical condition in which a person exhibits excessive sweating". So im basically bakugo irl u guys! one side effect is that my hands are constantly clammy and it's so annoying, me and katsuki twinning fr. my apologies go out to fellow people like us, this condition sucks so bad *sighssssss* tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[c4stxx]

MOOD 😭😭😭😭😭

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕡𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

SFW, characters aged up (21+) 

pairing // Bakugou Katsuki x reader

word count // 1.1k

tags // chaos, descriptions of mental illness, mention of self-harm, depiction of life as a struggle, financial struggle, mention of mental breakdowns, hurt/comfort

AN // I do not listen to Taylor Swift, but the lyrics of Paper Rings inspired this. I just needed comfort.

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night

Life isn’t perfect. It’s an unpredictable tidal wave that can either drown you or take you to some far off shore. It’s a storm that takes you by surprise, a force of nature you cannot control, nor predict. 

Life isn’t always beautiful. It can be ugly, painful; it can leave scars on your soul that still burn, never quite fading. Even the most beautiful rose will hurt you with its thorns. 

And life isn’t a fairy tale story with a happy ending—it’s a never-ending maze of horrors and miracles that you have no idea how to navigate. You wander until your feet bleed, but every once in a while you can stop and admire the flowers that have engulfed the tall walls. 

Life is difficult.

When you don’t come from money, and you’re barely getting by, swamped in work that doesn’t pay but requires a lot, drowning in bills and mental illness that cripples you and holds you hostage in the dark. When your family rejects you, and you have only two friends who (try to) keep you afloat and the orange cat you found by the dumpster behind your workplace during a breakdown. When life is a rollercoaster of unpleasant surprises and punches in the face and you can’t even finish your papers for school because your mind never shuts off, and you’re much, much too tired to deal with it all. 

When you're at your lowest… Life gave you a miracle called Bakugo Katsuki. 

Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

And he didn’t come from money either. Thrifted clothes and a shitty attitude, misunderstood by the world, pushed aside by everyone because he never bites his tongue. Dark circles under his eyes because he too can’t sleep at night, because the nightmares always, always come back. And he keeps his shaking hands in his pockets, holding his head up high and refusing everyone’s pity. 

He, a stranger at that time, could recognize the telltale signs of you dissociating mid-party, and he took you outside and held you tight when you cried because you were overwhelmed. He gave you his hoodie and walked you home, choosing the streets that were most brightly lit so you wouldn’t be scared of the dark. And when you hide your wrists he chuckles and says If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine and rolls up his sleeves to show off his tattoos covering old scars. Thin familiar lines you can trace with your fingers.

And before you got inside your tiny apartment after thanking him and wishing him goodnight, he lingered a few moments longer, whispering a single It’ll be alright before disappearing. Back then you thought you’d never meet this stranger again, so you clutched his hoodie tight and allowed yourself a happy dream that night.

Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life

One fateful day when the bell of the cafe rang, you looked up to the door, just about to end your shift, and it was the sight of a familiar blonde spiky hair that froze you and made your heart leap. Because when he smiled at you, hands still in his pockets, sauntering over to the register, your mind was for the first time in months absolutely clear. 

And he ordered his coffee to go and waited for you outside, talking to you like it was yesterday when he walked you home late into the night. And just like that, he reentered your life and nestled himself deep into your routine, into your heart, making each day just a little better than the one before. 

When the world was pushing you down, he’d wrap his hands around you and push back with you, never letting you cave and fold under the pressure. He’d be there for you. He’d hold your hand until it stopped shaking, and he’d kiss your tears away until his feather-light touches would tickle you and you would laugh again. 

When he’d get sick you’d take care of him, hot mugs of tea and homemade chicken soup, no peas because he hates them. You’d hold his hand and read him books until his fever comes down with gentle forehead kisses and quiet whispers of I’m not going to get sick, let me take care of you. And when he’s angry you would calm him, soothe his pain with hugs and kisses until he isn’t boiling anymore. You know he wouldn’t burn you, not ever. Like a fire that reduces even the densest of forests to ash, spreading fast and consuming all into his blaze—into his pain and anger—he only stops when he is met with your rain, dousing his flames.  

He planted flowers in pots, hung them on your walls, and promised to remind you to water them. Always made you a meal when you were too worn down to do so yourself. And he was okay sleeping with the lights on at night when the darkness felt like too much for you to handle. He stood up for you and stayed up late at night to cram for exams with you; carried you to bed when you would fall asleep on the little dining table. He’d set ten alarms making sure you woke up on time and made it to the exam hall in one piece. And he’d celebrate after each exam with a cake he made himself. 

Since you met him, your chest didn’t feel as tight. Because the burdens you had to carry you no longer shouldered by yourself. Because you had someone who understood and had your back. 

Because he was the one you wanted and have been waiting for your whole life. 

Oh, you're the one I want

And he was there when you graduated and took a bunch of pictures of you in a pretty navy dress holding your diploma and smiling brighter than the sun. He bragged to all his friends about how far you’ve come and the new job you found and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. 

And the first step was moving in with you. Finding a new place you would call your own and filling it with colors and picture frames that reminded you of how you met. Kiss good morning, kiss goodnight, never ever a kiss goodbye. For better or worse, in health and in sickness—you were poor but rich with love. 

And when the final boxes of his things were empty and his toothbrush was next to yours, his clothes folded in the drawer opposite of yours, his slippers kicked aside while yours were neatly placed by the door… you knew you were where you were supposed to be. With the person who was meant to be with you. The person who understood and accepted your pain and loved you for who you are. Scars, trauma, sleepy smiles and all. Just unconditional love.

You sit by the window that night, marvelling in the knowledge that you live together now, sipping beers straight from the bottles and just looking at the city lights outside. He fiddles with his beer and peels the label off, folding it into a little paper ring, smiling to himself as he sets his beer aside and takes your hand in his. 

Slipping the little paper ring onto your ring finger, he looks like the happiest man alive.

“One day I’ll save up get you a real one and ask you to marry me.” He looks into your eyes, hoping you would like that idea. In his mind your future together is playing like a movie, bright and full of color and laughter, so he’s taken by surprise when you suddenly kiss him and hide your face into the crook of his neck, barely whispering the words: “Dummy… I’d marry you with paper rings.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[bkgsdoll]

deaf!bakugou likes to feel the vibrations of your body.

to paint a clear picture, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and you two are in resting in bed after a few rounds of making love (and consoling your fiancée when he started tearing up and signing about how he was fucking pissed he couldn’t hear you moaning his name)

the sun’s orange glow as it sets just outside your window beams a gorgeous light onto you both, glistening with sweat. it’s a comfortable few minutes before you remember a juicy story you’d overheard earlier that day, and you gently tap the space next to your lover (you didn’t have to though cuz he was already staring at you with cheesy adoration).

you slightly pull yourself away from his beefy chest to begin expressively signing your daily piece of gossip. you always speak out loud when you sign, even though you know he can’t hear you. and as you’re signing with speedily, facial expressions big and enthusiastic, katsuki’s eyes dart to your lips every two seconds, nostalgically remembering the sound of your gorgeous voice before the war.

he huffs, signing wait. you pause with confusion before he shuffles forward so two of his fingers could rest on your throat. he feels you swallow and a little grin writes itself upon his face. he gives you a tiny nod to continue. and he smiles at the heavy buzzing against his digits.

[hxltic]

First time makin out with Bakugo.

suggestive!!

Ur laying down, splayed on top of him, but who can say anything about it? You saw the black tee and sweatpants combo he flaunts while he was casually making food in the kitchen. You’d practically jumped him.

But he didn’t mind; his temper deteriorates later into the night, so the only thing he can feel right now is your fingers wrapped around his neck and your lips slowly dancing against his. Not that he had much of a temper around you anyway.

He groans satisfactorily in the back of his throat. The pads of his fingers creep up the thighs sat on either side of his hips and trickle just under the fabric of your shorts. There was no point getting under the covers of the dark bedroom, the only light came from a candle on the dresser from sometime earlier when you were cleaning, and the only sounds emanated from you two.

That moment he gently tugs your lip between his teeth, just to release it and grin tiredly when you hum in response. At the same time, you shift above him, turning your head into a deeper kiss.

His lips are so soft. They move perfectly against yours, molding like they were made for each other. He looks so content like this, sharing a sultry kiss with you, his body completely relaxed. Mostly.

Your tongue slips out to meet with his as if it had been done a billion times. His touch sends fire through your skin, and with each movement he gets even closer, your heart feels like it’s about to pound through your ribs; however, despite how it appears to be, he is in the same breathless boat. Your hand only disconnects from him to brush the falling tendrils of hair behind your ear.

There was a hardness growing beneath you that made your heart beat ten times faster, but nothing was done about it. He ignored it—instead trailing one of his palms up and down the span of your back while the other reaches a little further.

His brows furrow a bit when he inquires as softly as possible, in his gruff voice, “You’re not wearin’ anything under these tiny shorts?”

You dip your head back to his lips, taking them in sensually. Of course, he returns it, but the question is left in the air. Your mouth leaves his so you can leave slow, needy kisses along his jaw that gradually cover his neck, and when you come back up, the answer is given as a whisper. “Hmm…thong.”

He blinks open his orbs swimming with fire and a glint of amusement. The hand on your back then moves to your nape so he can tug you down to him, already feeling the withdrawal of your taste. Simultaneously, his fingers inch all the way up until he can feel the garment himself.

He effortlessly slips his finger under the thin string and lifts it until he can’t anymore so that it delicately snaps back into place. His tongue soars deeper into yours when you react with a small gasp.

He smiles with a low sound deep in his chest, “Seems like you want somethin’ from me.”

“I do,” you breathe. “Didn’t wear it for nothing.”

It’s then he rolls over, taking you with him onto your back.

©️hxltic

[minus-plus-zer0]

Comparing Hand Sizes

This was the stupidest love advice Bakugou ever received. But he had to give it a shot.

Bakugou approached you at the house party, steeling himself for the worst. The Bakusquad would have hell to pay if this didn’t work.

“Oi,” Bakugou said. “Wanna compare hand sizes?” 

“Um… sure?” 

He feared that you might’ve already caught onto his little game, but you still held up your hand against his. 

“Guess mine’s bigger,” Bakugou said, as instructed. 

Bakugou didn’t know where to fucking go from here, because the idiots didn’t give him the full instructions for this dumb trick. Bakugou went with his gut instead. His fingers intertwined with yours, letting both your hands drop. His hand still gripped yours firmly. 

You laughed in his face. “Really? This is how you finally make a move on me? You’re such a dork!”

“S-so what? It fucking worked, didn’t it?!”

After that, Bakugou didn’t let go of your hand for almost the entire night. He didn’t endure that embarrassment for nothing. However, he knew he needed more.

“So... ya wanna compare lips too? Wonder whose is better.”

“Wow. You are sooooo dorky!”

“Will you just get over here?!”

[dekuneho]

bakugou katsuki doesn’t announce the newfound development in your relationship like a normal person.

one day, he’s in the kitchen within the first breath of daylight, preparing breakfast for two. you slide up next to him, burrowing your head between his arm and chest—and katsuki… he lets you, squeezes you. he kisses you on your temple, “g’morning, baby,” and by then a gasp rips across the silence of the room.

kaminari starts, “what—”

“oh,” ashido gasps, dawning with understanding. “wait—are you two…?”

katsuki bares his teeth at the stunned looks of your classmates, his glare speaking volumes: an unspoken claim.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much💕💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.

[seumyo]

a softie for sentimentality, bakugou katsuki.

Bakugou wears a bracelet. You’ve known about it for as long as you could remember, but only decided to acknowledge it now that you’re in your third year at UA, two weeks before graduation.

It wasn’t flashy or adorned with any kind of logo—just a simple, sturdy piece of metal with a stainless clasp that he seemed to wear all the time. You tilted your head as you studied it.

“You’ve had that bracelet for as long as I can remember,” you said, sitting down on his study chair. It’s a privilege to even set foot inside of his room without immediately being told (yelled) off, really.

Bakugou looked up from his book and glanced at you. “Yeah, and?”

“Is there, like, a story behind it?”

“No story,” he said with a shrug, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Really? That’s so bland. I thought there’d be like a gut-wrenching or life-changing story for it.”

He sat up from his bed with a huff, his eyes narrowing at you. “It’s just somethin’ I wear. What’s it to you?”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on your lips. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Keep your secrets.”

“Fuck off, dipshit.”

“Again with that! Why can’t you be nicer now that we’re graduating?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

-

But the conversation stuck to you.

It’s the day of graduation when you presented him with a small, handmade box. It was simple, made of sturdy cardboard decorated with his signature colors and an orange ribbon to match. Bakugou rose a brow.

“What’s this for?” He asks, holding it up like the box might explode at any given moment, though there was no bite to it.

“A box.”

“No shit,” he scoffs, “what’s in it?”

“Open it to find out!” You egged him on.

Bakugou sighs, opening the box with a focused pout. He went quiet when he saw what was inside.

“Ta-da! A bracelet,” you said, smiling. “For you. Thought you could use something new to switch things up.”

He held the stringed bracelet in his hand, looking at the material as if it would erupt in flames if he glared hard enough. It was a stark contrast to his metal one—brightly colored warm complementary beads with little charms that somehow still managed to feel like him. There was a red charm shaped like an explosion, a black bead with a skull design, and a small silver charm with an engraved kanji for “strength.”

“I’m not wearing this,” he said flatly.

It’s like your cartoonish heart balloon had suddenly been popped with a prickly needle.

“What? Why not? It’s cool!” you argued. “I even made it myself to really match you!”

“It’s not my style.”

“Sure it is. Look, it’s got black, silver, and even a little red—it screams Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I didn’t get you anythin’ as a parting gift,” he tells you.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just thought this’ll go with your metal bracelet.”

He nodded, though there was a somewhat frustrated pout on his expression, muttering something under his breath a soft “thanks,” and placed the gift back in the box, never actually letting you see him wearing it during that moment.

-

Years later, during a photoshoot for the yearly hero gala, Bakugou stood in front of the camera in his full Dynamight suit. The photographer adjusted the lights, snapping rapid shots as Bakugou struck his signature confident poses.

“Hold still,” the stylist said, adjusting his gauntlet slightly. Her eyes flicked to his wrist, and she paused. “Oh, that’s cute. Is that handmade?”

Bakugou blinked, following her gaze. Wrapped around his wrist, right next to his ever-present metal bracelet, was the colorful string bracelet you had made him all those years ago.

He stiffened slightly, but instead of taking it off, he shrugged. “Yeah. What about it?”

The stylist smiled warmly. “It’s a nice touch. Makes you seem... approachable. And quite frankly, it matches your suit.”

Bakugou snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-

When the photos surfaced online, fans quickly noticed the bracelet. Social media practically exploded that day.

Is Dynamight wearing a friendship bracelet??

A HANDMADE BRACELET ON DYNAMIGHT??

Guys, he’s worn this thing for YEARS. Check the old pictures! 🙂‍↔️

You, of course, caught wind of the news—because honestly, who wouldn’t when it took all social media platforms by storm? You saw the posts one evening while scrolling through your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the photos. It was unmistakable—the bracelet you had made all those years ago.

Long after your UA days were behind you and your lives had taken you and Bakugou down different paths, the all-too-familiar bracelet made you smile sadly—more nostalgic happiness than actual sadness, really.

You stared at the screen, sighing quietly. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken, to the unspoken decision that had pulled you in different directions. You never thought something as small as a bracelet would still mean anything to him.

You didn’t even think you’d live to see the day he wears it, much less keep it after the years.

But there it was, bright and unapologetic on his wrist, a subtle reminder of a bond that hadn’t completely faded with time.

Somewhere across the city, Bakugou stood on a rooftop, the evening wind tugging at his hero uniform. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, running his thumb over the frayed edges of the string. He smirked to himself, a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the person who’d given it to him.

“Guess you were right,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “It does scream Bakugou Katsuki.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lightseoul]

a/n. pleasantly surprised at how quickly i wrote this bit, it practically wrote itself. glad the first part was interesting for a lot of you—i love writing about psych/therapy stuff (despite my complex relationship with 'em), and ofc bkg <3 i honestly don't know where i'm going with this, but it's been fun so far. (0.8k)

navigation. part 1, (you are here), part 3

thankfully—and to the relief of whatever dignity he had left—that interaction was short-lived.

well, it’s mostly because after you blinked at him for what felt like a torturous eternity and said a shaky hello back, he gave you a curt nod as if he wasn’t the one who just initiated the exchange and bolted it out of there without a single glance back.

that bit haunted him for the next few days, reappearing in his consciousness whenever the topic of therapy or anything remotely close to it was broached. he even snapped at kirishima when the redhead asked how his latest session went during one of their evening patrols together. it was a kneejerk reaction, an entirely out-of-proportion, aggressive response that shocked even him, which says a lot.

he should go ahead and text the guy an apology.

eventually, though, that unfortunate powwow slowly faded into the background of his exceptionally busy mind as the days went on. things got so hectic in the agency that he had to postpone his appointment for the week, which—quite frankly—is an upside to this chaos, because he sure wasn’t pumped about discussing his love life, or the lack thereof, with the jarringly knowing middle-aged lady. being able to definitively avoid you and buy you more time to forget about his stupid social blunder is merely the cherry on top.

okay, maybe the incident didn’t actually slip his mind after all.

“…bakugou-san? are you still with me?”

dazed, bakugou squeezes his eyes shut before fluttering them open, and what greets him is the very same lady against the backdrop of her increasingly familiar office, only this time she’s looking more concerned than perceptive.

right. he’s supposed to be in the middle of a session right now.

“yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of irrelevant thoughts and focus on the matters at hand. therapy is expensive, after all. “i’m here.”

that doesn’t seem to placate the woman who instead prods, much to his chagrin. “you seem out of it today. is there something in your mind that you want us to talk about?”

for a second, he debates caving and just telling her the dumb shit that happened two weeks ago, but then backtracks when it dawns on him how ridiculous everything is. what is he, a prepubescent boy? he died and survived a major war, for fuck’s sake. why is he so hung up on seeming awkward for once in his life?

even hearing it in his head is embarrassing enough.

that settles it, then. his lips are and will remain sealed.

but then his gaze refocuses on his therapist, and the sheer ‘unconditional positive regard’ or whatever the crap is called that she’s radiating becomes so palpable that it just spills out of him.

“i fucked up.”

that makes the lady frown—which, if he thinks about it, is understandable, because he rarely opens up about his failures, let alone this blatantly—although she manages to quickly school her expression into a more neutral one. “can i ask you to expound on it?”

at that, bakugou sighs, because it’s either he just tells the laughable truth or actually cite one of his actual mistakes—which he’s not feeling right now, by the way. or he can expertly maneuver the conversation to another topic, but something tells him there’s no getting out of the current subject. maybe today, there is, but it’ll surely loom over their next sessions indefinitely until either of them revisits it.

he should know. it’s happened to him too many times, he’s lost count.

with this realization, he can only sigh again.

“it’s stupid,” he preempts.

“i’d like to hear it regardless,” comes her classic, supportive response.

and so he does it. talk, that is. it starts off a bit rough—he didn’t know how to even begin without flushing like an idiot, but he managed to get the brief anecdote going. he still ended up blushing anyway—the warmth in his cheeks was undeniable—and if she noticed, she gratefully didn’t point it out. by the time he’s finished with the trivial tale, he’s mildly out of breath, having said everything in one continuous burst.

“i told you,” he spits when she doesn’t say anything for a beat. “it’s stupid.”

“i’d normally ask you to reconsider the adjectives you use for yourself and your experiences, but i think you’ve heard enough of that.”

he snorts. damn straight.

the woman then shoots him a smile, and he has to tamp down the reflex to bristle at an impending attempt to placate him. fortunately, it doesn’t come.

what does, instead, is a question.

one that catches him completely off guard.

“did you find her attractive?”

the fuck, is his first, immediate thought.

but then his normally trusty and acute brain seemingly comes to life and promptly supplies a second one that leaves him frozen and utterly dumbfounded.

yes.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[klashwhip]

these past few weeks you’ve been watching tiktoks of people asking their signifcant other to peel/cut oranges for them. you watch the variety of reactions; from a hudband who tells his wife to ‘do it yourself, im not your maid’ to ‘you feel like an orange? i feel like an apple.’

wondering how your boyfriend would react to the request, you secretly record him while the both of you were lying on the bed—deep down you already know how he’d react.

“katsuki, baby,”

he grumbles in reply

“i feel like snacking on some oranges”

“i bought and cut some earlier, it’s in the fridge.”

he went beyond your expectations, you had expected him to be willing but not him reading your mind and anticipating the day you would crave some oranges, “huh…?”

he looks up from his phone and look at you, with an eyebrow raise, “what?”

“how do you know i want oranges?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, lucky guess,” his mouth curled up a teeny tiny bit.

he can’t just say that he had a feeling you would, that would make him seem like a loser (he is, in every way possible.) he noticed you kept using your citrus lipbalm out of the 20 other flavours. you ordered 2 lemony-orangey-citrusy sodas this week alone, you unconsciously triple sniffed when you walk past the fruits —specifically the oranges—aisle. just a lucky guess.

[suksatoru]

tender touch ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ katsuki x you

i’m just thinkin about touch starved bakugo. he's rejected any and all forms of affection towards him—absolutely hating the feeling of anyone unnecessarily touching him.

he doesn't know how he's turned into such a sap now for you. it seems like he can't not touch you. it doesn't matter. it can just be him bumping his knee against yours under the table during class or keeping a hand on your back when walking through the crowded halls—he likes touching you. however, he didn't think he'd enjoy you touching him. boy was he wrong.

whenever you're rubbing the muscles in his back after a hard day's worth of training, he's groaning and leaning into your touch—which is something like an anchor, grabbing hold of katsuki and pulling him deeper and deeper until he realizes it's love that makes him crave your touch so much.

[blqstar]

౨ৎ katsuki bakugo loves to sleep naked with you.

but not in a sexual manner, no. instead, in the most loving way imaginable. he loves to feel your plush and honey soft skin rubbing up against him. he loves how warm to the touch you feel, basking in the fervor plethora of just you. bare you.

just to rub his hands all over your body feels like heaven to a man like him. for you to be so comfortable in showing him the most beautiful body that God has given you has him almost shedding tears. he honestly feels like the luckiest man alive.

knowing he only gets to trail his fingers through every crack and crevice of you, that he’s the only one to love on your tinted brown skin is so excruciatingly satisfying. he can’t get enough of it.

no, he just can’t get enough of you.

[hxltic]

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched away from him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

[azzo0]

Sometimes, you like teasing your boyfriend, Katsuki, by pretending to be one of his fangirls. He usually doesn't react and rolls his eyes at you, but today is different.

You strut into his office after patrol as usual and let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh, my god, is that Dynamight?"

He looks up from his laptop and removes his reading glasses, setting them aside. "Yeah, what do you want?"

You smile and sit on his desk, his eyes following your every movement. "Sign my tits."

You expect him to scoff and shoo you away, but no. Instead, he grabs your thighs and pulls you into his lap. You laugh in surprise when he actually reaches for the hem of your shirt.

"Gonna sign 'em for you, alright?" He brings his lips to your ears as he slowly lifts your shirt up, "with my mouth."